...orlando, not in touch with his feminine side,
slams down the steps in his Best Butch to date.
The sentence is up, though, at long bloody last.

Pointed-toe thick-heeled size 14 shitkickers
(with handworked lavender leather insets,
and a tiny "z" on each sole)
hit those steps with downright menace.

Faded buttonfront 501s, knee-ripped, arse-ripped, engine-grimed,
wrap those lean muscled legs.

wanders in and moves to Her chair... the gear all set up on the table next to her... sitting and waiting...

Sweat-stained ancient black cotton t-shirt,
now two sizes too tight, and ripped at neck, pit, and shoulder seams,
sticks to dripping pumped pecs like faded paint.
Thick heavy black leather fringe swings from wrist to shoulder
and across the back of the grimed leather biker jacket.

Two weeks of thick black beardgrowth
shadows his usually pristine jawline.
and those bright baby blues are concealed by
classic Jack Nicholson Ray-Bans.

Butch purgatory was over last night,
and it's time to *lose* this shit.

eyeing that outfit... picking up a large pair of scissors...

The jacket and boots I peel off myself. They go together, and zenith got the boots handmade, I explain.

But the rest of butch drag? Scissoring is too good for it, actually.
...and I smile deliciously...

ah ok... well perhaps a souvenir... the thought of cutting leather gives me a pang anyway... crooking my finger...

it won't be all scissoring... evil smile...

...after peeling, I walk to present before you, standing tall, and beam with delight at the not-all-scissoring promise...

Shirt, 501s, dreadful socks, yardwork boxers. Enjoy. I know I will.

lifting a hand... trailing long nails through the long stubble on your chest... describe the pattern for me...

...I look down at the rips in this shirt, and know I should have ditched it ages ago, but what better to sweat in and grassstain?...

exactly... let's just do something about that and I will try not to get ahead of myself...

My chest hair: Picture a the shadow cast by a bird of prey, broad splayed expanses over the pecs, trail pointing down toward my navel like a tail. I never shave the navel to cock trail and thatch.

There's nothing wrong with quick studies, naturally. ...I grin broadly, and continue the descrip:...

lifting the scissors... making a small snip at the center of the hem... setting the scissors aside and grasping the cut sides in either hand... looking up at you as I tear the shirt up to your neck...

Back hair: Nearly smooth, but a diamond at the base of my neck, 6" wide, about 3? high, centered at upper back. Lower back: tiny black diamond just above and centered over the crack of my arse.
...and You see my back arch and eyes sparkle at the ripping of the shirt...

I usually never shave the lower diamond except for photographs, because it's such a good tugger.

visualizing... all right... do you prefer the back done also? I like the lower back part especially... little pointers... wicked smile... rising and reaching around behind you to grab the back of the shirt and tug it from you...

ahhh... what a delicious thought...

The upper back, yes, and I see You see what I mean about the lower.
...delicious smile...

It does feel good to have the air on my back, instead of that wretched disgrace of a tshirt.

slipping a finger into the waistband of the jeans... pulling it out... cutting the waistband above your right thigh... then moving to repeat the action on the left...

gripping the right cut side... exerting some force to rip the front of the leg down to the torn knee... my hands moving to the left... the sound of ripping cloth... watching as the jeans fall to your ankles...

This is a Lady who gets *creative* with scissors!
...and I watch, wide-eyed and fascinated...

These are virtual ankle shackles, unless You finish the rip.

wicked smile... you should ask M. Organic what I can do with a knife...

...big boygrins...
I do not even want to *think* about it, Chere Maitresse.
One does not need to know, when one *trusts*.

lifting the scissors again... making small snips in the leg hems of the boxers... gripping the fabric and ripping up to the waistband... allowing them to hand in tatters for a moment before cutting through the waistband on either side... watching as they flutter to the ground...

ah well it seems I made quite an impression one time... but it is good to be trusted...

Do excuse the obvious erection, 7'n'7 purple against my washboard. There's something about being undressed with a blade that gets to me,
ma Chere. ...and I see that my ankles are still levi-bound...

I do believe You are still capable of making an impression.
...one puppylarge boyhand tips Your chin so that O/our eyes connect briefly...

wicked smile... if you didn't have one then I didn't do my job right... moving the scissors forward... snipping the odd pubic hair... grinning and setting the scissors aside...

looking in your eyes for a moment... knowing what you see there...

...not fainting, but starting to sweat, the snick of the blade nothing to the press of cold sharp metal against the skin as it goes for that odd hair or two...

gesturing to the floor... kneel for me now sweetums... lean back and grab your ankles...

Yes, ma Chere.
...I drop to my knees, and my body arcs beautifully as my hands grip my ankles behind me...

...You see the muscles ripple, and You see the little beads of sweat start to puddle beneath the black stubble...

smiling in appreciation at your grace... very nice... sitting for a moment to admire you...

...my breathing slows as You sit back to watch, and You can see this is so because the heaving of my chest stills, and my body begins to hold motionless as carerra marble...

reaching to the table for the cup of shaving soap... stirring it up with the brush... extending the brush and beginning to dab the soap over the offending stubble.. brushing it over your nipples... the coarse hair of the brush rubbing aginst them... dabbing then returning to your nipples... over and over till your chest is coated witht he soap...

...flawed carerra. That big purple blotch dead center, after all...

...and o, the bristles of the brush against my nipples, if the bristles don't carry the message back to You that my nipples stiffen into little bullets beneath Your bristling, they aren't as firm as they seem...

ah but that is no flaw... but rather the focal point of the work of art before me...

...feeling the silky warm soap covering me, chilling in the air, my nipples alive and alert and very very sensitive...

reaching out a finger... flicking one of those hard nipples with one long nail...

Ma Chere Maitresse, Your lips and nails have to be a turnon to *everybody* who gets to experience them.

...and my nipple sings and throbs and I do sincerely hope You do the other, or I'll lean all crooked...

Besides. When You balance them, it completes the circuit, as it were.
...abashed home-improver wiring jock grin...

smiles... well I have not had any complaints thus far... reaching for the strop.. holding it and running the shining blade back and forth over it...

...cock rocking harder against tight washboard at the sound of the blade on the strop, and my lashes lower, and my lips part, and I start to breath through lips instead...

laughing... slippig my finger through the soap... flicking the other nipple back and forth... holding the handle of the blade in my other hand... well lord knows we can't have you being lopsided... are you grounded too?

That's a tough question. Sometimes when You think they're grounded, they spark anyway.
...a deep breath swells through my torso, long low exhalation, happy second nipple...

grins... laying the blade agains the upper portion of your left pec... right where the hair begins... pressing lightly... slowly slding it down toward the nipple... how very true...

...sweet goddess how I love blade scraping over my skin, and the thrill of another pair of hands doing it sends me *away*...

...I try to hold very very still, but this statue is all too fleshly, and You feel it tremble slightly beneath Your blade...

wiping the blade... cleaning up the shaved area above your left nipple... moving around to the side... removing that hair... watching your face as the shining sharp blade does it's work...

...nipple hard and solid, in the cool air with the rest of that pec shaved naked but still wet enough to dry in the air...

feeling that fine tremor under the blade... compensating... laying the blade over the top of your right pec... drawing the blade down toward the nipple... wiping the blade carefully and then running it on the strop again...

...my biceps and thighs start to feel the burn from holding the gorgeous arc, but I've held it for longer before...

The touch of a pro, nobody expected anything other, ...I whisper, dazzled by Your automatic compensation, Your cool solid skill...

placing the dull rounded end of the blade against the top of your left thigh... drawing the metal down the top of your thigh to your knee...

...but I've never held it this long with distractions like that, and I fight and fight to hold the arc, no matter how my thigh starts to tremble...

lifting the blade again... applying it to the side of your right pec... drawing it toward the nipple... thank you sweetums...

smiling as the various parts of your body begin to tremble one by one... laying the blade at the center of your chest... drawing it toward your left nipple... wiping the blade and repeating the action toward the right nipple...

...the air hits my right pec, shaved clean and sleek and smooth, and the cool of the air against the heat of my torso is a wonderful thing to be feeling...

...the blade moves like a cold fire across my hot chest, center out the way the heat inside me moves...

smiling... knowing how that clean feeling of just being shaved is wonderful... wiping the blade... turning the blade dull side up... lowering it and nudging under your sac with it...

...the nipple rings quiver, delicately, in the chill air...

...and my balls snick up tight against me, two walnuts in spandex, at the unexpected touch of the blade and the heavy eroticism wrapping around the room...

...not real spandex, natch, there was nothing beneath those boxers You ripped off, but that's what the effect looks like, I'm not the first to say so, either...

lifting the blade again... placing it just under the center of your chest... drawing it down remove the hair trailing toward your navel... slow smooth scrape of shining razor sharp metal...

smiling at the imagry... remembering an old story about spandex, which I will tell you later... reaching down with my free hand and cupping your sac... circling your navel with the dull end of the blade...

...my 8pack ripples beneath that sweet scraping steel, and I inhale, slowly, deeply, skin bellying out, feeling the change of the press of steel as I do, knowing that You adjust by instinct, but the tiny modulations as my skin and Your pressure interact is dark magic...

...Your hand at my balls, nails digging in ever so, and the dull edge of the blade tracing me, my thighs start to shake, because this is more than a burn I feel...

slipping one forefinger into the left nipple ring... pulling it out... cleaning up the stray hairs around it... allowing the ring to snap back... pulling out the right ring and whisking away the stray hairs there...

...oh sweet goddess YESSS, the rings as tools for the last few hairs, how I *love* that part of being shaved!...

...the pace of my breathing doubles, little sweet bursts over my lips, at those finishing flicks to my nipple's edges...

reaching for a wet towel... laying across your chest... the wiping all the leftover soap away... looking at your flushed smooth chest... smiling...

...I whisper, voice husky and a little ragged...
It feels glorious, ma Chere Maitresse. How could it *not*?

listening to the sound of your voice,.. your breathing... good, very good... and it looks wonderful too... laying my hand flat on your chest feeling the smooth skin through my sensitive palm...

...ah, no, the key sensation is the smooth skin of Your tiny hands, that I promise You...

How prettily must I ask, so that You take the beard away, too?
...bright baby blues look clear at You, full of hope and promise...

smiling... caressing your chest lightly... butterfly touches... knowing how sensitive freshly shaved skin is... no hair to muffle the sensation

looking at you... ah you want the cute satan look gone too?

...and my face breaks into a huge smile at the butterflies, and I gasp and laugh deep and quiet and low at the sheer pleasure of the fluttering...

It is very cute, and it was a good Look, but it is very non *boy*, no, ma Chere?

cleaning the blade then running it over the strop again... parting my knees... you know the position...

My jawline, so sensitive, so sensual. I want to *feel* the tongue on it.

you are correct... and we will take care of it for you...

...breaking the arc, body parts gone numb shocked at the change, but I crawl, anklebound, to between Your thighs, head tilted back against Your sex, damn near, chin up, throat bared for You...

lifting the wet towel and laying over your face and throat... reaching for the cup... dabbing the soap over your face and neck... my thighs gripping your shoulders..

...my shoulders spreading Your thighs, good thing they're limber, and the heat of the towel seeps into my face and throat and gentles my overstrained nerves...

picking up the blade... hesitating for a moment... grinning evilly... picking up a set of nipple clamps joined my a chain... clipping each clamp to a nipple ring... letting the cold metal fall onto your hot smooth chest... laying the blade at the base of your thorat...

...I want so much to wiggle and feel the metal dripping across my chest, the weighted tugs at the rings, and disturbing the path of an oncoming blade would be *sooooo* stupid, but I want to wiggle anyway, and I don't, the deliciousness of postponement nearly a compensation...

sliding the blade up your throat... reaching down.. jiggling the chain so that it slides over your chest...

...blade at my throat, chain wiggling across my sleek sensitized chest, I have to murmur, stiff-jawed...
Sorry about the dribble on my belly, I can't control the first few pearls, but the rest I can hold for fucking ever if I have to.

glancing down over your chest... smiling... reaching down to trail one fingertip through the shining droplets... lifting my finger to my mouth and licking the nectar with my soft pink tongue... no problem sweetums...

...still not jawmoving...
What's it taste like to You?

sliding the blade over you throat... reaching down to grasp the chain and tugging on it as the sharp metal slides across your skin...

...o sweet goddess I'm not moving but I want to, twin sensations of blade at throat and chained nipples, I *want* to move...

smiles... those first few drops always taste different... sweeter somehow... it is not a flavour easily described... but rather to say it tastes like a man...

keeping a firm grip on the chain... the blade stilled against your throat... and how would you move if you could sweetums?

...reined like a fucking animal as I am curried, and bestially pleased on several low levels...

...still stiffjawed, not moving the jaw, no no no...
I want my hand on my cock, and my hand on your hand that used to be on the chain, while you strafe the beard. I know the risk. I want the risk.

reaching down to take your hand... guiding it toward your straining shaft... slipping my hand under your other hand... lacing our fingers together and moving them both to the chain... moving the blade to your chin...

Thank You ma Chere Maitresse!
...i half whisper, half gasp, breathless burst, and I set to...

...right hand slimes more pearls around my head, they'll get sticky soon, and the left hand, interlaced with Your hand at the chain, begins to tighten over and around Yours...

...it's not enough, my right hand reaches up, hoping for either shaving soap or Maitresse saliva, my own mouth is not moving...

...Your hand is so tiny in mine...

wrapping our laced fingers around the chain... allowing you to choose the force... sliding the blade along your sensitive jaw... yes sweetums...

smiling... setting the blade down... gripping your wrist... lifting it to my mouth... licking your hand... then gathering saliva in my mouth,,, allowing it to trickle over your palm... coating it...

...i pull slowly at Your hand at the chain, enjoying the gradual increase of pressure, the harder bite at my nipples, the tiny hand in mine, and the Gift of Your saliva will be most appreciated, finger traces Your face before the hand returns to my cock...

feeling my hand engulfed by yours...your fingers spreading mine wide... and yours is so warm and it surrounds mine...

...slick wet hand starts to work over my cock, starting slow, firm tracings all over, wetting all over, and the other hand moves O/our interlaced ones from side to side, tugging the chain to left, right, alternating pressures, shifting focus, while the neck and head stay ramrod straight...

smiling... you finger warm on my face... picking up the blade again... running it over the other side of your jaw as I feel your grip tightening around my hand...

...I've been too damn hard for too damn long, and my wet hand nearly makes me explode, I pull it away as if my cock were a hot coal, and I hope You will tell me when I may come...

glancing down your chest to wath the motion of your slick hand... wiggling under your head just a tad...

...an uneasy balance, the one hand now empty, the other twined with Yours, and the pressure increases on Your tiny hand on the chain...

...I tug our hands on the chain, slow deep jabs into my chained nipples...

wiping the blade... sliding it over your left cheek... your hair tickling the insides of my thighs... lifting the blade and shifting agin.. then returning it to your face... I will tell you sweetums... never fear...

...hand returns to my cock, grabbing hard, trying to be a human cockring, trying to hold myself back, while I drink in the blade at my throat...

feeling the pressure increasing on my hand... the bite of the chain on my palm... drawing the blade over your right cheek... wiping it and moving to your lips...

flicking at the stray hairs around your lips... adding a tug of my own to the chain...

...I will burst, I will fucking burst, but I don't, and I return to the rhythm O/our hands had, the alternate tugging at nipple rings, while the blade makes my lips come alive...

...my hand keeps a solid grip on my cock, the pressure keeping it bottled in, I may pass out soon, but I will not come without Your permission...

finishing the work on your face... taking the wet towel and wiping your now smooth face and throat... setting down the towel... my fingers trailing lightly over your jaw...

...and the tracing on the sleek clean sensitized jawline is sweet and heady...

threading my fingers in your hair... pulling your head forward... quickly dabbing soap over the bit of hair on the top of your back... whisking it way with the blade... wiping the smooth skin with the towel and leaning forward to nibble over the sleek skin...

...it makes my hand grab Yours crushingly hard, the chain now biting against Your fingers...

...As You nibble, I pull, I stretch my nipples side to side with that chain, pressure on Your tiny hand...

wincing a bit as my hand is squeezed... using my feet to push the chair back... slipping down to the floor behind you... the insides of my legs along the outsides of yours... your tight butt nestled tightly aginst the apex of my thighs...

...my eyes open wide, I'm not sure I get it, and the feeling of soft thighs, hell, the feeling of breasts so close to my naked back, even clothed breasts, is really fucking weird, and I almost drop our hands at the chain...

...I don't drop them, though, I pull sharp and hard, over and over, trying to wake up, trying to get a grip on more than just my cock...

grinning... my free hand slipping around your waist... palcing it over the hand around your shaft, squeezing it... you may release now sweetums... lifting my head and closing my teeth over the back of your neck...

...my cock is really throbbing, and the light touch of Your hand on mine on it was a surprise, but Your teeth sinking into my neck was all it took really, and my head arcs back into Your mouth, pressing into the bite, and my fingers slide fast over my cut ridge, and we're into it...

...quick ripples over the ridge, Your little hand feels the rhythm, faster until the swell comes, the throb just before, and I start to shoot like rockets...

releasing the bite and then biting again... my hand firm on yours as it slides...

...I"m not looking, but if I were, I'd see the highest arc my load has hit in ages, and it hits my shaved chest, and it splashes Your hand on the outside of mine, and it drips down my still thickly-haired thighs...

feeling the wetness begin to flow over my hand... my teeth digging harder... pulling hard on the chain...

...it all goes, I unload hours worth of builtup come, hot and sticky and damn near endless it feels like...

feeling the flow continuing... pressing tight against your back... sharp litle bites over the smooth skin at the base of your neck...

...my head rocks from side to side, my torso shakes, I'm spent, I fall forward bringing Your hand, Your arm, with me as I collapse panting and shuddering...

...my grip on Your hand tightens, even as my body goes slack and relaxes in release, and I whisper...
Thank You, ma Chere Maitresse.

laying over your back... my arm wrapping around your chest... holding you...

kissing your back lightly... lovely sweetums... just lovely...

...and in the spent splendour of release I start to giggle beneath You, and I tell You... I want a barber like You *locally*.

giggling... now there's a job description I could get into...

Let me know where You hang out Your shingle. ...big darling smile... I think I need to just pass out here in the Nest pillows.

grin... you'll be the first to know... and now sweetums I also need to collapse... the day starts early tomorrow...

...shifts slightly, hauls an available pillow beneath his fresh-shaved dazed head, tosses You one, passes out way out...

Good night, Chere Maitresse. Been one for me. ...dippy grin as I slip from daze to unconsciousness to deep deep dreaming...

leaning over to kiss your smooth cheek... snuggling close and closing my eyes... night sweetums...

...totally out...

slipping off to dreamland... fades into the night... patting your cute butt as I go...