Later that evening...
I was home for the night, and had the apartment to myself. My roommate worked nights, and so we rarely saw each other, which worked perfectly for us. He was an alright guy, but just, not someone I would voluntarily be friends with. He paid his half of the rent on time though, so there was that, and usually didn't make a mess. Come to think of it, he actually was a great roommate. Still wouldn't be friends with him though.
So there I was, empty apartment, new razor, bottle of lube, and a box of metal butt plugs. Sounds like the start of a party. I had decided on the bus ride home that I was going to shave first, I guess thinking that it would be easier to do without the plug, although I'm not sure now how that would have made a difference. Standing in the shower, lathered (with shaving gel... never use plain soap, kids, it's bad for your skin), I started. My chest seemed like the easiest place to start: flat, even, easy to get to. The hair only snagged a dozen times or so. It wasn't until later that I learned about body hair trimmers and bought myself one. They're life-savers, let me tell you. Or... skin-savers at least.
After my chest was sufficiently smooth and red, I stopped to consider where to go next. I don't exactly have back hair, which was a plus because there was no way to reach it. Alright, fine, how about my legs? His were smooth, and he said he wanted me hairless like he was, so...
OK, ladies, if there are ladies reading this, on that day I gained a new respect for you. Guys, please, appreciate that women shave their legs, almost all the time, and generally don't complain to us about it. Seriously, try it one day. Or don't, but still. It's a pain in the ass.
My arms were next, and were similar to my legs, but not as big. I was starting to get the hang of the razor, and learned to angle it a little better to prevent the snagging. Things were going well, until there was only one place to do. Fuck.
Again, guys, if your girl shaves for you, go down on her. All the time. Or something. Make it worth her doing it, because shaving around down there is horrible. In fact, guys kind of have it easier, because we can just pull and shift everything out of the way. Then again, we've got stuff that gets in the way... so... maybe it's a wash. Regardless, I managed to shave without too much hassle, and that was without a trim first. Again, buy a trimmer. Worth. It.
Stepping out of the shower was weird. Without hair anywhere, you feel the cold air on you. If you've never shaved your pubic hair, you don't realize just how cold a room can be when you're walking around naked. I dried off with a towel, then set it aside to check my work in the mirror. Honestly, it wasn't bad. I looked like a swimmer or something, all smooth and sleek. And I had to agree with the boss, I kind of liked how my cock and balls looked without the hair. He had a point about that. The rest was alright too, and I thought I did a fairly good job, especially for my first time and with no help. Ok. Alright. This could work.
My eyes shifted to the box and the lube then. Oh. Yeah. That.
Opening the box, I looked over the three steel bulbs. The smallest was about the size of my thumb, and the largest about as big around as the boss's cock: enough that I couldn't get my fingers all the way around it. He had to be kidding, right? And only the three? Like, shouldn't there be more stages here? Kind of a big leap between them. I decided I'd mention it at some point.
I removed the smallest from the box and held it up, examining. There wasn't much to it, just stainless steel in a kind of teardrop shape, with a safety handle. Suddenly I couldn't get the thought of a lawnmower starter out of my head, and came down with a case of the nervous giggles. They went away when I remembered that this thing was supposed to go in my ass.
I lubed the living fuck out of that thing. They say you can never use too much, but I pushed the limits on it. Clear goo dripped from the bulb onto the tile floor, something I'd have to clean up later. For now, it was time to try this. I held the plug against my ass, sliding up and down my crack, because I had never tried to find my own asshole before. It didn't take but a second though, and I puckered as the cold metal touched me there. I... might have started to get just a little bit hard too. I took a breath, and pushed.
Nothing happened. My ass abjectly refused to allow entry. Damn. I tried again, but was rejected. It wasn't until I tried to first wiggle the tip a little, to let the tapered plug work its way in, that I was finally successful. Really, once past the initial hurdle, sliding the rest in wasn't all that difficult, and the bulb settled itself into place as my ass clenched around it. I checked to make sure the safety handle was still outside. It was.
I couldn't face myself in the mirror, but I could bring myself to look at my own body. Again I looked over the hairless smoothness, but then turned, contorting, trying to check my butt. You couldn't see the plug, or at least I couldn't. I knew it was there though.
I stashed the razor, lube, and box of plugs in a bottom drawer in my dresser, then threw on some clean underwear. The material felt weird against my sensitive skin, but not bad. If anything, it made me more aware of that area, just like the plug did. I wound up having a chub all night.
Waking up with something in your ass is a unique experience, and I would recommend it to everyone. At first, you can only tell that something is off, but not really what or where. There's a feeling, not unpleasant, of wrongness. For me, without thinking, I reached behind me and felt my ass, because I could at least tell that that's where it was coming from. My finger hit something hard, metallic, beneath my underwear, and I remembered.
I remembered everything: the interview, standing naked in front of my boss, kneeling for him, sucking his monster of a cock. I remembered the orders to shave, and to start learning to take things in my ass because he was going to fuck me. I got that butterfly feeling again in the pit of my stomach.
I had to wear the same pants as the day before, and knew he would comment about it. But... I only had one pair of dressy pants, and they were it. If he wanted to buy me clothes, fine. Otherwise I'd just have to come in like this. I at least had a different shirt. Oh, and red tie that day.
I was asked to sit in the reception area outside the boss's door and wait for him, so I did, carefully. I was still learning the logistics of having even a small hunk of metal in my ass. Don't get me wrong though: it wasn't painful, just... weird. At first anyway.
At literally, exactly eight, the boss opened his door. "Oh, good, you're here," he said, then abruptly turned back into his office, leaving the door open. I wasn't sure, but guessed that was an invitation. I stood, was reminded of the metal in my butt, then followed the boss into his office.
"Shut the door," he said just as I was passing through it. I grabbed the knob and pulled it with me, shutting the door and stepping in at the same time. "You're wearing the same pants," he observed, without turning to me.
"Ah... you noticed that..." I said, dropping my hand to my side.
"Yes. I'd prefer if you didn't do that." He was looking at some kind of file, back still to me.
"Yeah... sorry about that. Just, you know, money is tight right now and..."
"You can't afford clothes?" The question wasn't asked unkindly, but more just as an observation, a fact about me just like how my hair was light brown, or that I was a grower and not a shower. For the first time he turned though, and actually looked at me, waiting for my answer.
"No, not at the moment," I admitted. "Like I said, money is tight right now." He didn't say anything, but reached behind himself and came back with his wallet.
"Here," he said, holding out several bills. "That'll get you started."
"Oh... no I couldn't..." The last thing I wanted was to owe this guy money. Well, OK not the last, but...
"Take it. I can't have my Executive Assistant walking around in the same pants for two weeks until he gets paid." That was a good point, I had to admit. Presentation was, sometimes, everything.
"OK," I said, taking the bills and folding them without counting. My mom said that it was always rude to count money when someone gave it to you. "I'll uh... I'll go..."
