Hair today, gone tomorrow
Now I've said it before on many occasions here on this blog, I've got a soft spot in my kinky heart for a woman's pubic hair. While not a deal breaker or must have by any stretch of the imagination, rather I just get a secret (or not so secret) smile when I discover a woman who chooses not to follow the fashion of the day. As an aside, I would pin the blame for this particular kink of mine on this woman, but that is a tale for another day.
No, today's story is all about the possession of body hair... and the removal of it at the edge of a straight razor.
"The black one", she says with a sigh, "the one you use every day"
She points to the row of razors, laid in single file before her, their blades gleaming with the promise of danger. Each blade has a story, a history to me. She listens wide eyed as I pick each one up, caress it like a lover, and share the blade's story.
"this one, this one I named Klaus", rolling the handle so that the dull gray of the blade explodes in the light before her, "hand made in Berlin before the war. Found it in a roadside antique store. This", picking up a simple black handled blade," this was given to me by a 70's porn goddess. She used it in a film that once scandalized the audiences of grind house theaters across the country. Took me months to return the blade to perfection. And this", pointing to a pearl and mahogany handle of another, " was a gift and may only be used on the skin of the woman who gave it to me..."
She is naked and the room is *just* cool enough to see the landscape of her skin explode in goose flesh. Maybe it is the temperature, or perhaps not, either way I can't help but smile at the way the hairs along her inner calf bristle and rise in anticipation of what comes next.
Tonight, tonight that hair will be mine. All of it.
Yes, unlike previous times when I have been so honored to have a woman offer me the hair between her legs, tonight I am being given a truly special and rare gift.
She is one of those funky neo hipster types. The kinda girl who only shops at second hand stores or street fairs and sports a look that is both chic and self assured. Lithe and tone, her dancer's body is before me. Tufts of thick, curly dark hair peek out from under her harms. The a gift on Christmas morning, a tiny red bow is tied into the thick curls of her pubic mound.
Next comes the strop, I run the blade along the long strip of leather in slow, even strokes. This is not so much to sharpen the blade, as that has been done with painstaking detail already, no this is more to prepare the blade and align the microscopic particles of metal along the razor's sharp edge so that there is nothing but pure, single minded, sharpened steel. All fixed upon one tasks.
As she lays back on the bondage table, trying to relax, she asks if I am going to restrain her... open.
"Oh no..." I say with a wicked laugh, "I assure you, you will be very motivated to stay very, very still for me"
Dammit, I've rambled too long and there are rope orders that must go out today. I'll pick this tale up again tomorrow.