”“Like the parting of the Red Sea,” I joked.“Hopefully there is no Red Sea today, neither from a period nor a cut if you move while I shave,�... she warned, before adding as she grabbed the scissors, “So don't move.”“Okay,” I nodded, as I watched her start snipping off my hair.“I'll cut as much as I can before I use the razor,” she said, as she worked.“Okay,” I repeated, still in awe that I was at Tiffany's about to get shaved down there.She cut hair for a good five minutes, until I could actually. I could go and eat my cake and laugh with my family and make a half-emotional half-hilarious speech and go home and shower and cum as many times as I fucking wanted to. Or I could let Scott fuck my ass and tell me what to do for the rest of the day. Why couldn’t I stop him? I knew why. I wanted to please him. I wanted to do what he wanted. I knew it was just terrible but I wanted to give him that power. Why? How can I explain it? Was it because he was so goddamn attractive? Partly. But it was. More

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