A Close Shave

"Fuck!"

The spray from the shower nozzle was freezing. I stumbled away, but Esme had me by the balls - literally - and I barely went anywhere.

"Aww, too cold for you?" Esme asked me, biting her lip and making her brown eyes as wide as possible. The innocent act only lasted for a second before slipping into a devilish smirk.

"Yeah, it's f...fucking freezing," I said, teeth chattering. I reached for the nozzle, but the grip on my junk tightened and I let my hand drop. It didn't hurt, but...well, it was a good reminder of who was in charge.

"The temperature is

really

tricky," Esme said, practically purring. "You wouldn't want to burn yourself, sweet boy."

She reached out with her other hand and slowly turned the handle. The shower quickly heated up, and I realized that the tension in my body wasn't due to the cold - but rather how completely intimidated I was by this woman, and by exactly how excited for and scared of what she was about to do to me.

Esme nodded towards the tall, pink and green container of bodywash on the edge of the tub. "You can go ahead and clean up," she said. "I'll be right back."

She disappeared from the small opening in the shower curtain, then pulled the paisley-colored plastic closed.

"And if you even

think

of touching my loofa," she called out, "I'll send you home with balls so blue Oompah Loompahs could write a song about them."

"O-okay..." I said, afraid to even look at the purple scrunchie-on-a-stick thing hanging from the wall. I grabbed the bottle of bodywash, squeezed way too much into my hand, and started cleaning myself off.

I had never been so thoroughly humiliated as I was that night. I was so ridiculously tongue-tied that that alone was enough to put the evening in the top five of my personal hall of shame. Add to that cumming in my pants, being naked and on display, and agreeing to be...shaved? Holy shit, this was a disaster.

And yet...I could not think of a single moment that I had spent with another woman that had left me so utterly, completely, and mind-meltingly aroused.

"Jesus Christ," I said, violently shaking my head. "Get a grip."

A voice swelled up inside of me in response.

Okay, listen up bro-

"Bro?" I said out loud.

Yeah, BRO. Listen. All you have to do is take back the initiative. When she shows up again, kiss her hard, grab her hips, woo her-

"Woo?"

WOO HER with some aggro, bro. Just a little bit. Just enough to show her that you're a man, and that she's a woman, and-

I heard the rustling of the curtain and the clinking of shower rings behind me.

Oh shit is that her? Uh...I gotta go.

"Talking to yourself?" Esme asked.

Yeah, show her that you're a

man, I told myself, this time in my normal internal voice instead of some obnoxious pseudo-frat one. I turned around to face her.

ShowwwwHOLY SHIT

. My brain flatlined, filling my mind with the incessant

eeeeeeeee

of a dead heart monitor as I watched Esme step into the shower.

She wore a tight, one-piece bathing suit, black with a grayish-silver stripe down each side, both the fit and the design making her curves pop harder than the blood vessels in my quickly stiffening cock.

"Oof," she said, arching her back and slowly running her hands up her sides. "It's been a while since I last wore this."

She cupped the large breasts that had already made me cum once that night, slowly rolling her head back and forth to stretch her neck. She opened one eye slowly, almost like a reverse wink, watching me and my desperate arousal with an amused expression on her face. I caught a glimpse of pink tongue as she ran it over an oddly sharp canine tooth, and added

sexy smug vampires

to the rolling list I kept in my head of new porn genres to seek out.

"Do you know how killer whales take out great whites?" she asked as she stepped close to me, once again taking my maleness into a grip that wasn't painful, but that highly suggested I remain where I was.

"Nnnnn-" I whined.

"They flip the shark over, more or less paralyzing it, and then chew its liver out." She growled and snapped her bright, white teeth at me, then smirked. Her hands started working on me, soaping me up, stroking me, and my eyes rolled back into my head.

Esme stepped even closer. I could feel the smooth, slick fabric on her stomach pressed against my hip, and the gentle resistance of the breasts squished up against my arm as she tilted her chin to talk quietly up towards my ear.

"And did you know that killer whales eat moose? They sometimes come across them swimming between islands and just mm...mm...mm...."

I swallowed hard. "Is...is there going to be a test on this?"

Esme laughed. "Kinda," she said. "It's just that the last boy who saw me wearing this said that I looked like a 'sexy Shamu'." She shook her head. "That was a bad idea."

I added

hentai orca big tits

to my future-porn list.

"What did you do to him?" I asked, voice cracking as if the balls that Esme was holding onto had only just dropped.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "Actually, I think he's haunted more by knowing what I

didn't

do to him."

"Ohhh," I said, chuckling nervously. "I thought you were gonna say, like, you tore him a new blowhole, or something."

"Why tear him a new one when you can just invade the one he already has?" Esme said sweetly. But before I could fully reflect on that, she held up a pink shaving razor an inch away from my nose. I could practically hear the sound of a record scratch in my head.

"Last chance, sweet boy," she said. She stepped closer, further pressing her wet body against mine. "Do you want to preserve your dignity?"

She stepped up on her tiptoes, her voice low, but strong in my ear. "Or do you want to make me really,

really

happy?"

"Oh...Christ, I want to make you happy," I groaned.

"Nnn," she moaned in response. I could hear a smile in her voice. Her tongue curved beneath my earlobe, guiding it right between her sharp little teeth. I groaned as she bit down, my cock throbbing with electricity and need.

"Alright," she purred, stepping back and grabbing me in a more businesslike manner. She looked into my eyes, the previous playfulness now replaced by command.

"Don't. Move," she said, and I swallowed hard.

***

I have a lot of friends who really enjoy their recreational...substances. As a Zoomer who's heavily involved in my local music scene, that shouldn't really be too much of a surprise. I don't really partake myself, but I do enjoy hearing some of the wackier "substance"-related stories that tend to be shared around bonfires or while waiting for concerts to start.

However, I've always been a bit weirded out by the idea of the "out of body experience" that all of my friends seem to have had while "substancing". I could accept some of the crazier things they've seen and done - hallucinating blue caterpillars on everybody's shoulders, or streaking through a mall at noon. But being outside of one's body - acting as a third-person observer of your own self? Yeah, that always seemed made up to me.

Well, it turned out I didn't need a hit of psilocybin to have an OBE. No, all I needed was to have my cock and balls shaved by a shortish, gothish, thiccish, curly-haired brunette with big brown eyes.

Let's be honest, I was a bit...terrified. Yes, I was rock-hard, and yes, I was fully enamored with the look of the black and silver bathing suit clinging to Esme's curves. But, as much as I believed in her ability to safely shave me bare, at the start I had to fight off a flinch every time the blade scraped away a line of lather and hair.

Part of it - and I wish I could say most of it, but I can't - was just the fear of pain. I mean, come on - did I really want this thicc chick to slip and razor-nick my hard dick? Not at all. But the greater fear - and I feel a little stupid even saying it - was that of vulnerability.

I mean, I've never been the most masculine guy. And for the most part, I've been able to accept that. But standing there, being shaved, being stripped of a kind of manly roughness and left with a kind of feminine smoothness? It was...scary, it was unnerving, it was humiliating, it was...

Ah, hell. It was exhilarating.

It was this feeling, this combination of fear and eagerness, that pushed my mind out of my body, displacing it somewhere over Esme's shoulder. I felt like I could see myself, even though my eyes were closed, rigidly standing beneath the spray, my body tense beneath Esme's practiced touch. I felt like I had slipped my hands into Esme's, almost as if they were those gloves in chemistry labs that are attached to glass boxes. I felt like I could feel both Esme's hands on me as well as feel my own hardness in her hands as together we shaved away the last of my hair and manliness, leaving me fully smooth.

"Well," she said, tapping the razor against the wall and then placing it in the soap dish, "what do you think?"

It took a few seconds for me to slip back into my body. Once I was finally centered again, I looked down. "Jeez," I said, slowly running my hand over myself. "It's smooth." With a flush of humiliation, I realized that she had also taken the hair running down from my navel to my groin. From a certain angle, it looked like the lack of hair continued right down my thighs and into my legs.

"Mmm," Esme said, biting her lip as she looked at me, enjoying the results of her handiwork and the flush in my cheeks. "

Very

nice."

Before I could respond, she had taken me by the hips and spun me around to face the wall beneath the shower-head. I gasped as she slid close to me, her hands, somehow soapy once more, slipping around me to my smooth manhood and started to stroke me again.

"You did

very

well," she purred into my back. As shiver of pleasure rocketed up my spine. Her slippery fingers formed a tight "O" at the head of my cock, then slid down my length to the base.

"Oh...

fuck

," I moaned.

"And I think you deserve a reward," she said, continuing to stroke me, her cheek pressed up against my shoulder blade. "What do you think?"

"Hn...hn," I moaned in agreement, thrusting my hips forward, pushing myself into the "O" of her fingers - which all of a sudden stopped and squeezed me tightly around the base.

"Use your words, sweet boy," Esme growled as I continued to thrust my hips against her tightened grip.

"Oh, God, yes, please," I said, barely able to get the words out. Her strokes began again, and I felt like my mind was filled with a blinding white light that transformed everything except for physical sensation into an intense static sound.

I had never cum from a handjob before. Of course, I had never - never

ever

- gotten a handjob like that one. In fact, it's not even right to call that a handjob. It was...surrendering myself to her, allowing her to bleach my mind with pleasure, allowing myself to drift away from all thought, from all stress, to fill my entire focus and attention on the tight ring sliding up and down my cock.

I hyperfocused on every physical stimulation simultaneously. Her other hand, sliding around my chest, pulling me closer to her. Her heavy breasts pressing into my back. My legs shaking from standing on the balls of my feet for so long. My calves burning in response. Her small, sharp teeth digging into my shoulder.

She had me orgasming before I even released my cum. The intense pressure that had been building up in my base overwhelmed me completely - and it was only when I realized that the high-pitched moan I was hearing belonged to me that I finally emptied myself. She made me shoot three, four, five, six times, more than I ever had before, either on my own or with anyone else. I flinched with every spurt, every sense heightened to overwhelming proportions - I felt like I could hear and even

feel

each impact of my cum against the hard tiles in front of me. Moaning weakly, completely spent, I leaned heavily against the wall.

"Fuuu," I said. "Fuuuuuu...ck."

"Sh, sh, sh, sweet boy," Esme said. She kissed my spine, and an aftershock rumbled through me.

"Nnnn..."

"I know," she said sweetly, "I know. That was a lot for you, huh?"

I nodded weakly. She pulled back. I heard her moving around, the sound of a bottle being uncapped and then recapped.

"Here," she said, reaching back around me and pressing something rough into my hand. A washcloth.

"Clean yourself up, sweet boy."

I groaned.

"Come on now," she said, her voice a little more authoritative, almost enough to make me shiver all over. "We had our fun, now it's time to clean up."

I didn't move. I couldn't. Not until she pulled herself close to me, her nails digging into my ass, her small hand gently taking my throat into her grip.

I froze, a moan strangling itself before it could leave my mouth.

"Get it together, sweet boy," she purred. "If you can't clean up in the next two minutes, it's going to be a very long time before we have any fun again. Understand?"

I nodded, my head bouncing up and down in quick, short jerks.

"Mmm good," she said. She patted my butt, and I heard her leave the shower.

My entire body felt completely spent. My balls felt loose and achy. My calves were cramping slightly from the intense time I'd spent up on my toes. And it felt hard to breathe, almost as if I'd just run three miles as fast as I could.

And yet, the prospect of not being able to do this again anytime soon had me cleaning myself faster than I ever had before.

As soon as I turned off the shower, a hand popped through the curtain, holding a big fluffy towel out for me.

"Thanks," I said, drying myself off. I stepped out of the shower, hoping to catch another glimpse of Esme in her skin-tight bathing suit, but she had switched into pajamas - soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. There was nothing more I wanted in that moment than to cuddle with her - but unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards.

"Come here," she said, sitting down on the seat of the toilet and beckoning me over to her. She pulled open the towel and put her hands on my newfound smoothness. They were soft and oily, and she slowly and tenderly rubbed lotion on me from a puce-colored tube she kept in her lap. This time, the pleasure that washed over me wasn't erotic. It was the feeling...well it was almost like feeling as if an oath was being fulfilled.

See, I had submitted myself to her entirely, allowing her to hold a razor to my most "crucial" areas, allowing her to strip away from me a certain level of manliness, of adultness, of confidence. And now that she had taken that from me, now that she showed that she could own me, she was now taking care of me, holding up her end of the bargain - a queen demanding subservience, but offering protection in return.

Somehow, this felt simultaneously more genuinely heartfelt than any emotional intimacy I had ever experienced, and insanely dirtier than the shaving and the handjob.

"There," she said. "That should prevent razor burn. Not that you would have needed it. I am very good at this."

"You are," I squeaked, then cleared my throat. "You've...had some practice with this."

Esme gave out a little laugh as she stood. I backed away to give her space, but she was soon pressed up against me, her heavy breasts beneath her cotton t-shirt squishing against my naked chest as she stood up on tiptoes, her lips half-inch from mine.

"Tons," she said, laughing as she stepped away without kissing me.

"Oof," I said, closing my eyes and leaning against the corner of the sink for support. I could hear her humming to herself as she washed and dried her hands, but the sounds were largely drowned out by my heartbeat, echoing strong in my ears. Despite having cum so recently, I could feel myself getting stiff again for her, and I could feel my pulse in the root of my hardening member.

I don't know how long I stood like that, but my eyes only opened when I heard the rustling of a plastic bag and felt it bumping against my cheek.

"Hey. Wake up, lover," Esme said. Swallowing hard, I took the plastic bag from her.

"For your underwear," she said. "And your jeans."

"Oh, no," I said, "it's fine, I'll just go commando."

"Oh, but I don't want you to," Esme said sweetly. She held up a pair of leggings, which she put down on the toilet. "These were my last roommate's. She was a tall girl, so they'll probably just reach your ankles."

I eyed them suspiciously. To shave myself was one thing - nobody would know that I had done that except for me and Esme. But to wear such thin, tight pants in public? Thin, tight pants that very obviously belonged to a girl? That was too much humiliation for one night.

I opened my mouth to tell Esme so, but she had stepped close to me again.

"You'll wear them for me," she purred, dragging her nails across my lower stomach, making me shudder and gasp.

"Right?" she asked. I nodded quickly. She gave me space and I quickly finished toweling off, then grabbed the leggings and awkwardly started pulling them on.

"Now, I'll be busy with work stuff over the next few weeks," she said. "So I'll send you instructions to follow. To keep yourself smooth for me until next time."

"O...okay," I said.

"And I'll send instructions on how to shave some more of yourself for me."

I turned my head towards her so quickly that my neck creaked.

"My legs?" I said, scared. I wore shorts regularly in the apartment - so regularly that my roommates would think something was weird if I switched over to pants instead. And if they started asking questions...

"I was thinking of a more...

intimate area

instead," Esme replied with a wicked grin.

My "intimate area" puckered. My throat went dry. My heart dropped into my stomach like an elevator without brakes. Esme's eyes widened, and fire lit up behind them.

"Aww," she purred, running a hand playfully through the hair on my head. Her touch was electric, sending pleasure running down through my scalp to all of the major nerves in my body.

"Your eyes scream 'fear', but uh..." she let her gaze drop. I looked down and saw that I was completely stiff again. Apparently when my heart fell, it went all the way to the bottom floor, because I could see my cock bouncing in time with my pulse.

"Get dressed," Esme said, "and go home, sweet boy."

She turned and exited the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Gasping, I leaned over and grabbed at the sink, my mind reeling from the intensity of...

everything

. My erection was so strong that I could feel my balls aching. I reached down, intending to quickly release the pressure, but as soon as I felt the now smooth skin of my mons I froze as if once again bewitched by Esme's wide, dark gaze.

I wouldn't do that, sweet boy,

she said in my head.

Not until you get home. In your bed. Where you'll pass out after, leaving the mess to dry all over your stomach, too spent to clean it up.

"Y-y-yes ma'am," I said. Then I shook my head, snapping it back and forth, trying to clear it of the vision of Esme and her power over me.

"What the fuck," I mumbled, pulling the leggings on, most of me so embarrassed to be answering to phantasms that I couldn't look at myself in the mirror, while a tiny part of me held onto the arousal of being so thoroughly owned in such a short period of time.

Esme was in the kitchen making tea when I exited the bathroom. She ignored me as I noisily grabbed my coat and put on my shoes, rustling the plastic bag with my jeans and underwear in them at every opportunity I had. Finally I stood at the door, dressed and ready to leave, watching her as she put tea bags back in cabinets and took a handful of mugs from her sink and put them into the dishwasher.

I wanted to clear my throat. I wanted to thank her for...well, for not making me feel useless for having prematurely ejaculated, for one. For holding me right on the line between feeling completely safe and utterly endangered at the same time. And, yeah, maybe for making me cum so hard that blacked out for a microsecond or five - but in a beautiful way, you know?