HappyComeLucky

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is “Looking Back” which fits in perfectly with a very recent experience.

A while ago, I bought a straight razor to use for a Sinful Sunday picture. This might not be very surprising for some  but for me, it was quite a major thing.

About six years ago, I got rid of all of my razors and stopped using any blades in hair removal. I changed to an electric shaver first and then an epilator. I became scared of razors and all that they symbolised for me. I had spent over twenty years of my life turning to my razor blades when life hurt too much. I used them to cut myself, to release the emotional pain through the physical pain. I was always careful and the cuts weren’t deep. I used self harming sparingly. I would make myself wait before I gave in and did it. I always waited for a planned opportunity which made me feel that I was still in control as I was calm as I cut.

Eventually, I reached a point in my life where I wanted to stop more than I needed to go on. I had some help and I worked very hard to try to find other coping strategies. Initially, I was too scared of falling apart to know that I would be ok, so I just hid my razor blades. After a few months, I began to believe that it was possible. I had times that I desperately wanted to cut, but I made it through. One Sunday evening, I pulled out my razor blades and gave them to someone else, asking them to get rid of them permanently. On that day, I made a vow to myself that I would never deliberately cut myself again.

Over the years in between then and now, I have avoided having razors in the house. It started as a sensible precaution and developed into almost a superstition. So, fast forward to my relationship with my man and it became clear that I had a strong reaction to any talk about razors. I really get off on having my boundaries explored and being made squirmingly uncomfortable about what is turning me on. He skilfully dropped the ideas and scenarios into our conversation and the ideas grew in my fantasies.

Since then, I have had three experiences with razors. The first was sprung on me with no warning. He took me to the bathroom and ordered me to shave his face. I was almost paralysed with fear. I was scared of hurting him. He talked me through it and survived unscathed despite my quivering hands.

The second experience thoroughly fucked my mind. He told me in advance that when he saw me, he was going to shave my cunt. I was shaking. It took me deep into submission to lie down and offer my skin to a razor. Luckily for me, he helped me to avoid panicking by pushing his cock into my mouth while he shaved me smooth.

The third experience was this weekend and involved the razor that I had bought as a prop. This wasn’t a safety razor – this was a straight edge or cut throat razor. My man teased me with it before settling down to the serious business of lathering up my cunt and making each deliberate stroke with the razor. It was a very heady mix of emotions for me. I trust my man absolutely and I knew that I was completely safe. At the same time, all of my feelings about razors were trying to assert themselves. I was calm and tense at the same time. The deep level of trust and intimacy won and the experience whilst very nerve-wracking was also beautifully serene. I felt almost in a meditative state of calm and adoration of him. The calm didn’t last long as it was replaced by lust and carnal need very soon after.

Through these experiences, I have moved on from my fear and negative associations regarding razor blades. They still have a very significant and strong effect on my mind but they are definitely in the deeply erotic category rather than the horror.

My fear of razors has been shaved away.

Who else has a Wicked Wednesday to share?