#forced shaving
Last night I shaved my legs,pits, and pubic hair (see links for pictures). I hadn’t shaved my legs and pits in half a decade, and I hadn’t shaved my pubic hair in more than a year and a half. I loved not shaving. I loved feeling the wind in my leg hair. I loved surprising people with the fact that I didn’t shave my pits. I loved feeling like I was still a little bit radical.I loved having hair on my cunt, because it helped weed out douchebags, I liked the way it looked, I enjoyed not having to deal with the shaving, and because it helps reduce infections. I’d even started pulling on my pubic hair while I masturbated, after MLAM did that to me a few times.
I didn’t shave because my feelings about my body hair changed. I did it because my owner told me to. I’m visiting him at the end of this week, and he finally gave me the order I’d been expecting for a while. He instructed me to shave, telling me to take before and after pictures for this tumblr, to explain that he is taking away my “stupid little feminist hissy fit shit.” I used to say that I wouldn’t shave for any man because I liked having the body hair and if some guy didn’t like it, tough. My owner tolerated that for a while, but planted the idea of making me shave in my mind, fucking with my feminist beliefs, making me wet thinking about him making me do that for him.
He’s let me keep my hair for a long time, longer than many owners would indulge a little feminist bitch like me. Let me hold on to this idea that I’m a strong, independent woman who can make decisions about her own body. We both know now that’s not true. I’m a toy for him to play with, including deciding how I will keep my body hair.
Having to do this was not unexpected, but it was a big deal to me. Not shaving may seem like a passive thing, since shaving is an action one chooses to take. But in this society, women are expected to shave, and I’ve gotten more than a couple of people online tell me I was gross or unattractive because I don’t shave. I was actively, and aggressively, deciding to not shave. It became part of my identity.
And now it’s gone. My owner has control over my past, present, and future, and can fuck with them however he likes. He decides what aspects of my identity I get to keep, and what aspects I have to get rid of.
Before and after shaving pictures of my legs.
I think I’ll miss my leg hair most of all. Even though it was difficult to see, being someone who didn’t shave my legs made me happy, and I enjoyed the novelty of it. I liked fitting the incredibly outdated and inaccurate stereotype of the “hairy-legged feminist.” I bonded with a friend in undergrad over the feeling of wind in our leg hair, and since then, every time I’ve felt it, it made my day just that much better.
Not any more. Now I’m a smooth-legged little fucktoy.
Post link
I just finished taking the “before” pictures of my leg, pit, and pubic hair. Time to say goodbye to the past five years. I made a firm decision to stop shaving my legs and pits. I didn’t want to do it anymore, and I didn’t care what men thought. I wanted to see what it was like. I was being all radical and unique. I liked the way it looked and felt.
I’m going to miss the hair. I don’t want to do this. It upsets me and I feel like crying. I was never going to shave for a man’s sake ever again. I didn’t need any man to approve of my appearance or grooming choices. And now look at me. Undoing years of my life because a man told me to. Because all I want is to please him. Because following his orders and making him happy gets me wet.
Last night I was leaving the play space with Legal Lolita and I felt the wind blowing through my leg hair. That’s one of my favorite feelings. It makes me feel free, reminds me of friends from undergrad, and, I must admit, I feel a little bit of feminist pride, even though I definitely don’t think it’s inherently anti-feminist to shave.
That will be the last time I feel that for a while. My owner has finally given the order to shave for when I see him next week. I haven’t shaved my legs or pits in half a decade, and it’s been more than a year and a half since I shaved my pubic hair. I’m emotionally invested, and when he gave the order, I teared up, especially about the leg hair.
I’ll have a full post and pictures Sunday/tomorrow.
It used to have this line in it:
“I don’t shave. One of the best things about that is the feeling of the wind in my leg hair. It’s wonderful.”
Of course, that’s not true anymore. I’ve left it in until now, trying to hold on to a little piece of who I used to be. But someone just asked about it, expressing his preference for full bush. So I just took that line out. I feel a little bit sad, like I’ve really given up a piece of myself.
I have given up a piece of myself. More than that, actually. I’ve given all of myself to my owner. I shouldn’t be sad about that. And I’m not. I’m happy and grateful that he’s willing to take time and effort to train me and help me understand that I’m just a toy, a set of holes for men to use however they want.
