It was 3 weeks ago that I first shaved my cunt. I was rather leery about it. My doom had been hanging over my head for months, ever since my Master announced that he might have me shave. I knew how my skin behaved. I knew how easily irritated it was. I used to clip the hair very close for the philosopher, who was more easily persuaded to let me off the razor hook than the sadist was. I knew from that how arousing it was to feel my panties - or, better yet, the crotch of my jeans - passing over the unprotected skin and the even more unprotected female bits now that they were no longer cushioned by my little red curls. Still, I was worried about irritation. I was worried about cutting myself.
I was worried about the itch.
I know my own skin.
I did cut myself.
It looked all red and irritated.
And it itched like hell.
Still, what my Master wants, my Master gets. And there's a feeling I get from obedience... especially when I'm doing something I was not all that happy about in the first place. And I was surprised to find that I liked how it looked. It did not look at all pre-pubescent. It did not look at all like the cunt of some would-be porn star. It looked like me. My very own pussy. Solid and sensuous with those floppy inner lips hanging down between the generous outer ones. And the curls? They had become pretty scraggly with age. It was no great loss.
But the whole shaving ritual took a very long time. After all, I had read up on how to make it as smooth and painless as possible. The first time that included clipping everything close, but now, at least, that was no longer necessary. Still, there was the long, soaking bath first, to soften everything up.
It was a little over a week until I found time for the aforementioned bath and second shave. Again, it yielded irritation and bumples. That seemed to be my lot. I only hoped that in time my skin would accept its fate and the hairs would give up their lives without protest.
Between one thing and another, I didn't find time for my shaving bath last weekend. The hair kept on growing. It's not that it was that long. And when my Master was here on Monday (he has been here so often lately!), he didn't complain about the returning lawn.
But I knew.
And then, there was the itch.
Oh my god, was it itching!
And I am sorely lacking in the self-control department.
So I would scratch and scratch and that would just make it itch more, and it turned red and irritated and I thought helvete! - which is a much more serious swear word in Swedish than it is in English. If it's going to be red and irritated I might as well shave.
I was desperate. And had no time for a bath. So this morning I shaved in the shower. Quickly and cautiously. With the same blade I had used last time, nearly 2 weeks before.
And guess what!
Almost no irritation!
And the itch is gone!!
I suddenly think I know what the difference was. I used this Bikini Zone stuff each time, so that wasn't it - and in fact, needed more the first 2 times than this morning. And you would think not having a fresh blade would have made it worse.
But being short on time, and lacking the luxury of the shower, meant that the razor passed over my delicate skin less often. And maybe that's why the skin was less irritated. Which means I can shave in the shower every few days and not worry about fitting in a bath and always have a nice smooth pussy ready for when my Master announces as I'm leaving the house for work that he might be able to pay me a lunchtime visit that very afternoon.
I think I love my naked cunt.
I love feeling his eyes on it.
I love feeling him caress it.
I even in some way love having him flog it.
Because it gives him pleasure.
It represents my vulnerability.
And I want him to know that I am holding nothing back.
I belong to you, my Master.
I love you.
And everything I am is yours.