She dropped her yellow pad and pen onto the footstool, rose from the chair and sat next to me on the couch. Her thigh was touching my thigh. She bent ...orward slightly and my eyes automatically went to the gap at the center of her blouse. She placed her hand in my crotch and asked, ‘What emotions are you feeling?’ ‘Ahhh, oh fear maybe … and some…some…’ ‘Say it,’ she urged. ‘Shame!’ I told her ‘And what else?’ she insisted, her hand doing spider pushups in my groin ‘Anger,’ I responded. She knew he was tying them tightly so they would stand proud for his attentions and she could not help but love him more deeply for his rough fingers and strong tugs at the rope. Her ecstasy flashed to fear when she felt the cold kiss of one of his antique straight razors slide across her wet thigh. She came again as he wet the razor thoroughly with her gushing come and she almost screamed as he patiently, carefully began to shave her pubic hair with the come soaked blade. Each scrape and ting. More

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