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though not surprised, given his obviously lavish lifestyle.
    “Yes,” he said, as
if this were a common thing. “She can make us another breakfast later. I have a
feeling we’ll be hungry,” he grinned conspiratorially. “But for now, how about
some coffee cake and a cup of strong java?”
    It sounded good to
me, and I followed him into the kitchen, still naked, and wishing I had a wrap.
As he made the coffee, grounding the fresh beans in a little machine on the
counter, I got up the nerve to say, “David, I’m kind of cold. Do you think I
could wear a robe?”
    He looked at me,
first my face, then slowly, up and down my body. “No, sweetheart. I’m sorry,
but I like you naked. At least for now. I love the look of your skin, so ripe
and soft, like a perfect peach. I love the way your breast rest, high and round
against your narrow ribcage. I love that tapering waist and that cute little
bellybutton.”
    I was blushing now,
embarrassed but pleased at his lavish praise and obviously sincere
appreciation. But then he threw me for a loop. “This, however,” he said,
leaning down and cupping my pubic curls, “I think this has to go. I want to
shave you. Shave your pussy. I want you bared for me. And I think you’ll find
it heightens all sensations.”
    I stared at him,
my eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. He must have seen the hesitation in
my face, because David said, “Don’t say no, darling. Remember, that isn’t your
prerogative any longer. You belong to me now. We both know it. But I want to
hear you say it. To admit, and to accept what and who you are. And so I’ll ask
you now, who do you belong to, Zoë?”
    There it was
again, his hypnotic voice, low and pleasing, somehow entering inside of my very
essence to claim me. I found myself answering, “You, David. I belong to you.”
    “That’s right,
angel. And I want to shave your pussy, and you’ll let me, won’t you?”
    Again I nodded.
David smiled, and said, “But first coffee! You wouldn’t want my fingers to slip
from lack of alertness, would you now?” Indeed I didn’t! We drank the coffee,
delicious with fresh cream and a hint of cinnamon. David had some cake too, but
I found I was too nervous to eat, now anticipating a cold razor, held by someone
else, scraping along my most private and sensitive parts.
    I couldn’t believe
on one level that I was even contemplating it, but as we sat together at the
long bar, sipping our hot coffee, it seemed almost natural. Of course I’d shave
for my master, if that was what he wanted. My master! The words slipped into my
mind unbidden, but once said, couldn’t be unsaid.
    When he was done,
we walked together back to the bathroom. David turned on the water in the big
tub. It filled quickly, and he added some sweet smelling oils to it as the
steam rose invitingly.
    While waiting for
the level to rise, David said, “First we’ll cut off the excess hair. That will
make shaving much easier.” He knelt in front of me with a long pair of barber
scissors. I felt a little nervous having a pair of scissors so close to my
pussy, but I trusted David.
    Gripping my pubic
hair, he snipped and cut until it was as short as possible without shaving. I
felt very strange, but also aroused, which seemed to be my constant state
around this man.
    Once the tub was
full, David got in first, and held out his hand to me. I stepped in and nestled
back against him, feeling his warm hard body, settling into it like some human
chair. He held me for a while, and then said, “I think you’re ready. Sit up
there, on the ledge. Spread your legs for me, and stay very still. I don’t want
to nick you.”
    “David,” I began,
suddenly unsure again, but he stilled me with a touch of his fingers to my
lips.
    “Zoë. This is what
I want. Don’t defy me on this. This is what I want. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Yes. As crazy as that sounds to someone who doesn’t understand the
Dominant/submissive relationship, it was enough.