She felt it. I felt it. And I knew she felt it.

My eyes shot open, greeted by the blackness of the blindfold.

"Nooooo! NOOOOO!!! Ihh cahh eee!!!," I shouted through the ring gag.

But there was no denying it. Both my Mistress and I had felt it, plain as day. I thrashed against my bonds keeping me spread-eagle and face up on the bed, but it was too late. She had taken her mouth from off of my balls, my erection quivering in the darkness I could now feel crushing me.

"Ah, too bad," she said. "I really thought you had it this time. But there it is, right under your left testicle. I'm not sure who is standing more proudly - that one little hair, or your penis who I'm sure is staring to feel the same disappointment you now feel."

The tears started to soak into the blindfold, as I could do no more than mutter "Nooo, no no no..." through my gag.

It had started out so seemingly simple. My Mistress had locked me into my chastity cage on a Saturday. It was nothing new - we used my cage frequently, and it usually led to some of the best orgasms of my life when it finally came off, usually within a week or two. We'd just had some rather boilerplate sex, when she reached into our toy box and pulled out the four inch torture device. I didn't resist as she locked it into place, and my cock took its time exploring its newfound yet familiar place. I waited for my Mistress's instructions, if she had any for me at this point. This time, she did.

"The other night after I blew you, I went out to dinner with a few of my girlfriends. I saw them laughing a bit, but they didn't say a word when I asked them what was so funny. It wasn't until after appetizers that I checked my teeth with my tongue and found it - one of your dick hairs, sticking out from between my teeth! They know I'm your Domme, so you can imagine just how humiliating that was for me. Still, you could argue that I should have looked a little more closely afterward, so I'm willing to just call that my mistake and move on."

"However," she continued, "I'm not even going to take the tiniest chance of that happening again - and you're going to be the one to make sure that happens." She smiled wickedly, turning and twisting the key to my cage between slender fingers. "You're going to be locked up for the entire week. Next Saturday, I will unlock you, and you're going to shave your entire package completely hairless. And I mean, COMPLETELY." She enunciated this last word so slowly and boldly that no further explanation could ever been wanted or need.

"Afterward, I will check you out. You will be bound, blindfolded, and gagged with that nice ring gag we BOTH love so much, and I will inspect your work. If you were successful, I will reward you with a blowjob that will have you questioning whether the rest of your life is worth living having experienced something so pleasurable."

My eyebrows raised along with my caged cock at this prospect, as I knew her skills with her mouth and tongue were to be envied by male and female alike - yet I always felt like she was holding just a little back the times I was privileged to experience them.

"However," she said again, "If you fail me, my little pet..." She tenderly gripped my cage. "You and your little friend here will be spending another week as fuck buddies. And I'll be the one making use of your mouth, while you wish you had paid just a little more attention to my demands."

My arm around her in our naked embrace, I glanced down past her jaw-dropping tits at my steel erection. I considered my predicament for a moment - not that I currently had any choice in the matter. This was a chance to give my Mistress something courteous and that she truly deserved. While I certainly understood the gravity of my situation, the task I was given didn't feel all that daunting. I already manscaped - if I was careful and took my time, how hard could it really be?

That was four weeks ago.

Four weeks - four chances to get this simple little task right, and each time I had completely blown it.

It seems so darkly humorous to me now, that first attempt. I can hardly believe the juxtaposition between how careful I thought I had been and how nonchalant I now realize I actually had been. I stepped into the shower, uncaged, but in full view of my Mistress with no misconceptions about the caged year I would face should I attempt to cheat her out of my chastity. I had trimmed as best I could with my usually shears during the week, and grabbing her pink razor and shaving gel she used to shave her legs, I lathered up my quickly attentive cock and got to work.

"Careful you don't enjoy that TOO much!," my Mistress shouted over the top of her book, eyes not on the book, but not on my eyes in the slightest.

It took me about 15 minutes to go over everything five times. I thought four had been enough and could see or feel nothing, but I figured it'd be better to take two minutes and make one last pass than to spend another week weighing 10 ounces more than necessary.

I stepped out, dried off, and checked yet again. No sign of hair anywhere! I confidently knelt before my Mistress and announced "Your slave is ready!"

She now looked up from her book, and without putting it down took hold of her property and inspected my work. "Hmm," she said appraisingly and without a hint of the confidence I presented. "Let's get you into position and we'll see just how well you really did." Locked on my back, blind, gagged, stretched, and spread, I waited for the heaven that was sure to come.

Instead, I got a bag of ice on my cock.

"Impossible!," I screamed in my mind. "I was so careful! There's nothing there, I swear it!"

She placed a hand on my cheek as I started to rebel against my restraints. "You foolish little slave." She spoke sympathetically, yet without belying the tone that made it clear that my current predicament was no one's fault but my own. "I didn't even have to feel to know that you failed me. I counted no fewer than three spots where you missed. After the third one, I didn't even bother counting any further. Is it possible that you didn't want to be released after all?"

It wasn't. But that comment cut the deepest. It made the extent of my carelessness crystal clear.

"No matter. A deal is a deal." She climbed atop my face, and as my erection quickly shrank down to cage size, I knew better than to complain and quickly got to work.

In the intervening three weeks between then and now, I had taken her cutting remark to heart. I purchased a set of brand new razors exclusively for pleasing my Mistress at this task. I read up on shaving techniques, for intimate shaving as well as in general. I kept myself as bald as could be considering my constant companion. And then as Saturday night came each week, I set myself to work with the singular goal of fulfilling my Mistress's wishes completely.

It was all for naught. I had failed both of the weeks that had followed, each time on the manual inspection, though these times it was on some tiny hair out of my sight that she found. It felt so impossibly hopeless, like a man could never fully succeed without being some sort of contortionist, like a kinky Cirque Du Soleil. I was as flexible as a cinderblock, and while no one could deny that I was trying, there was no 99% grade in this pass/fail test.

With the past three fruitless attempts and four full weeks of chastity weighing heavily on my mind and libido, I set myself to work over an hour ago. This wasn't just about an orgasm or a blowjob anymore - this was my entire sexual future! I'd been caged for nearly a month now. Was this to be how I would live out the rest of my days?

"NO!," I resolved, and set myself to work, determined to succeed no matter how long it took! I went through three different brand new razors. I must have used half a can of shaving cream. I went over and over the surface of my package so many times that several little nicks and cuts appeared under my well-practiced hands. The water from the faucet ran cold each time I turned it back on, the hot water long since used up. I shriveled and grew, shriveled and grew, taking each opportunity to find some other little spot, some little bastard hair hiding among the folds. I squatted over a mirror, inspecting over and over. My Mistress glanced up occasionally, and once I thought she even looked mildly impressed with my efforts.

Finally, I decided, I could do no more. Every angle had been explored, every crevice mapped, no where left to hide. It was time.

I gagged and blindfolded myself as my Mistress commanded, and laid down on the bed, accepting my restraints. It would be a mistake to say that I was confident, but I rested in my assurance that I had done everything I possibly could to fulfill my Mistress's single demand.

She took far longer than usual with her hands, turning everything this way and that, keen eyes inspecting my handiwork. I silently begged and pleaded that nothing would spring up out of nowhere - some little hair that just enjoyed my misery, waiting to assert itself.

She took her hands off, and I didn't dare breathe for the next few seconds. I heard her move, felt her body brush up against my leg. Those few seconds took a year in my mind.

Then I felt it - her magical tongue, sliding every so gently up the length of my shaft. It was so slight, yet so pronounced that it's a wonder I didn't cum right then and there. She stopped, paused, as little nerves fired, doing their work. She moved down, this time using her lips against my balls, moistening them, lubricating as she explored the surface. Starting on the right, she sucked ever so slightly, allowing the signals to race to my brain, to my heart, to heaven, and right back through me. She moved from my right to my left - not quickly, but deliberately, like a predator hunting injured prey, with all the time in the world to bring blessed release.

And that's when my world came crashing down.

I could no more hold back my tears and wails than I could tear my restraints off and satisfy myself, not to say that I didn't try. I tore and pulled, physically exhausting myself in an instant to the same state I felt emotionally. I calmed under the warmth and weight of my Mistress's hand on my chest.

"My poor little slave. I can tell how badly you wanted this. I wish there was something I could do, but to go back on our agreement would make me a liar, and you know I simply cannot have that. I couldn't take the damage it would do to our relationship. If only there were something I could do. Still, I saw your efforts. Maybe next week you'll have better luck."

I barely registered her last word. "If only there were something I could do," she had said, her words seemingly dripping with meaning.

"Ithtretth?" I managed to say through the gag.

"Shhhh..." She placed a finger over my open mouth. "You'll have plenty of time to talk once you're safely both locked and unlocked."

"Ithtreth!" I nearly shouted, hoping my tone would convey the importance of what I hoped to say.

She paused briefly, and I felt her reach under my neck and unlock the gag. I could feel her curiosity in her movements, devoid of any frustration or anger that might normally accompany my request to speak while gagged, short of using my safeword.

I quickly flexed my jaw to be able to speak clearly. "Mistress? Please. I have tried so hard. I have done everything I can to please you. I want nothing more than to do what you've asked. But it's clear - I can't. I can keep trying for weeks, months even, but I'm sure to fail each time. Please, Mistress..." I gulped on the coming request, not sure if it should be made, but feeling emboldened by each past and future failure. "Please, would you shave me?"

It was quiet for a moment, but my nervousness felt washed away. I could feel her smile over top of me, even if I had no way of seeing it or otherwise sensing it.

"Why, my dear husband. Do you know just how long I have been waiting for you to ask for my help?"

The past few months shot through my memory in an instant. They had not been easy months to say the least. Trouble at work, trouble with friends, trouble with my family, bickering, fighting, seemingly over everything and nothing at all. And with each instance of frustration or difficultly that entered my life, I offered little more to my Mistress, my dear wife, than that I would handle it, that she shouldn't worry, that I could take care of everything.

As her lesson to me sunk in behind my wide, blinded eyes, I heard her speak. "Of course I will shave you. I would do anything for you. I am capable of so much. I can do so much to help you. I just needed you to ask."

The blindfold was pulled off and a tear ran down the side of my face as my eyes adjusted to bright light behind my beautiful Mistress. She tenderly unlocked each of my limbs and guided me to the sink where she already had a razor and shaving gel ready.

I was nervous at first, but I shouldn't have been. She moved quickly across the entire surface with skill that I couldn't have dreamed of had I been shaving daily for a year. It was then that I realized what she had told me was true in so many ways. I had discounted her skill and abilities without even knowing it. Years of guiding a razor over bumpy ankles, awkward knees, and pronounced tendons had given her a proficiency with a razor and her hands I had long since taken for granted. What else had I forgotten she was so good at? I pondered my problems at work and everywhere else, and instantly had a long list of issues to discuss with her once we were finished here.

And finished she was. It took no time at all for her to maneuver the surfaces of her project. She felt here and there, and let go with finality. The task I had obsessed over and failed at time and again was done to perfection in a matter of moments. She looked up at me and smiled.

"And now," she said seductively, "we have an arrangement to keep."

And so, I once again found myself gagged, bound, blindfolded, and smiling a dopey open mouthed grin as I heard her mount the bed.

That's when the bag of ice hit my cock.

"Gahhhkk?!" I moaned in surprise.

"Next week, we'll find out if you've learned your lesson, slave! We have an arrangement to fulfill!"

My scream was muffled and lost in her vagina as my cock prepared itself for next weeks' reward.


EPILOGUE

The following week, my heart rate had barely returned to normal several minutes following a standing ovation-worthy performance on my wife's part. My eyes still closed, she snuggled into my body, fingers dancing across my chest. She turned her face toward mine and said, lovingly, "You know, you could've just used Nair."

My eyes shot open.