Keratin Cutting: Fingernail Cutting And Hair Shaving

I may be developing a fingernail-cutting fetish.

I've been growing out my nails: strong, filed to ovals, and long enough to leave clear red pinstripes on a back or an ass. I enjoy having natural, subtle weapons to flick out at will.

But when I clip them down to the base, it feels... good.

The increased exposure of my fingertips feels primal. When I flex my fingers, the strength of my hands is sensual, unencumbered by extending nail.

Nipple torture comes to mind. Gripping a ball sack. Kidskin gloves. Anything that rubs against the naked tips of my fingers.

If you cut slowly enough, you can hear and feel the steel shearing cleanly through the keratin fibers: sshhhhrrrrk.

It's glorious partly because it's rare. It can only happen once every growth cycle, and nothing can hurry that growth.

Shaving is the same principle, but more subtle. The result of interplay between hard steel implement and delicate organic hair is sure, inevitable, definitive. The quiet sound of razor over skin is the sound of harvest. It is the feeling of good work being done.


In my music training, there was no room for personal indulgences of nail length or color. Clear polish was beyond my piano teacher's acceptance. If my nails exhibited even a thin edge of white, nail clippers were handed to me before the lesson was allowed to begin. "There must be nothing that detracts from your performance!" she demanded. Vanity, that paltry substitute for worth, was not allowed in the realm of art.

I now find pleasure in that sound of exactness, that sensation of cleaving a layer of organic fabric. There's a boldness to a woman defying expectation, deliberately cutting off the natural ornaments of nails or hair. One can polish and decorate, sure - airbrushing and bejeweling and so on - but the asceticism, the austerity of bare, healthy, well-trimmed nails with nothing to distract from their function says to me, "ready for action".

This woman is ready to conquer a fistfight... or a fisting.

Text Teasing

Recent text exchange:

Him: "What are your thoughts on abduction and forced regression?"

Me: "I think of a male stripped of adult privacy..."

"Inspections, belittling talk, scoldings for naughtiness. 'How silly to resist. You'll be treated like a child for as long as you act like one. The only way out is to accept your fate and cooperate.'"

Then, the cherry on top -

Me: "One word: thermometer."

Him: "Oh... you are good."

Me: "You know it."