“Come here,” He says.
Just out of the shower, my hair wrapped in a towel, another towel around my body, i am still damp. i stand in front of Him. Trying not to grin.
He looks me over, head to toe and back again. “Open the towel,” He says.
i hold the towel open in the front, flashing Him. But then i am standing there, still holding it open, exposing myself to His gaze.
The urge to laugh is fading, replaced by a heat between my legs. He looks me up and down, dispassionately. “Are you clean?” He says.
And of course i am, i just got out of the shower, but i feel a moment’s anxiety. “Yes, Sir,” i say, and i hear the question in my voice as i say it.
“I see you shaved,” He says.
“Come closer, I want to inspect you, let’s see if you did a good job,” He says.
Definitely anxious now, i move closer. Shaving is not my strong suit – i know, i know, everyone else seems to do just fine with it. i get red bumps and miss spots and feel ridiculous for not being better at it.
i am standing close to Him now, but He grabs me – grabs the lips of my pussy, and squeezing firmly, pulls me forward. i am standing between His legs, my legs open, still holding the towel open in front of me.
“Lose the towel,” He says, but His attention is between my legs, pulling on my nether lips with one hand, the other hand caressing the top of my pussy.
i don’t know what to do with the towel – it’s wet, i don’t want to drop it on the floor. i take it off and let it hang over my arm. “Yes, Sir.”
He’s frowning – i hate that – stroking the top of my pussy with one hand, holding both lips with the other, firmly. And frowning.
i’m off-balance, my pussy being pulled forward like this, and i feel awkward.
He glances up. “Here,” He says. “Give me that towel. Lie down here at my feet, i want your legs spread and your put your feet up here on the chair.”
i’m not sure what He means, but i get the “lie down” part, so i do. The floor is hard. i put the pillow under my head so the towel on my hair won’t get the floor wet. He pulls my legs up, knees bent, one on each side of Him.
This opens my pussy, brings it close enough for His inspection.
Fingers poke, probe, stroke. i look away, embarrassed, but He notices. “Watch me,” He says.
i focus on Him.
“Do you think you’ve done a good enough job here?” He asks.
“No, Sir,” i say, mortified.
“Why not? Why did you stop before you’d done better?” He’s waiting, i think He really wants an answer.
“Because, Sir,” and my voice is shaky, “i can’t do it right, i can’t do it well enough, if i go over the same place too many times, then i start breaking out, and you don’t like that either.” My voice sounds thin and whiny to me, and i hate that.
i want to disappear, but He’s holding me here, my legs trapped, one on either side of Him, and even if they weren’t, i couldn’t just leave anyhow.
“What are you feeling?” He asks. “Right now. No censoring.”
Tears spill over, “i feel awful,” i say. “Like i’ve failed You. Like i’m a terrible person.”
“Well,” He sounds matter-of-fact, “That might be a little extreme. We’re talking about shaving, not world peace. But I appreciate the sentiments.”
He pauses, looking at me, all open in front of Him. “Maybe this will help you feel better.”
And he has a ruler in his hand, a wide one, it’s some kind of flexible material, i don’t know what, but it make a nice ‘thwack’ as he taps it on His hand.
And a louder “thwack” as it lands on my pussy, making me gasp. He is smiling.
“A little chastisement – this isn’t actually punishment, just a little discipline – always makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir,” i say, and as i say it, i realize that it’s true.
WHAP ~ the ruler lands again, and i settle myself to accepting whatever He has in store for me.