Bimbo Barbie's Close Shave

                               by 

                            Joe Doe 

 
Barbara's swim team agrees to enroll in a small college in order 
To use the pool.  But the young professional women fall under the 
Control of the watchful coach leer. 



Barbara saw her reflection in the polished floor of the gymnasium 
and smiled.  The beautiful young woman in the crisp charcoal suit 
she saw striding across the room was the epitome of cool 
professionalism. 

Barbara kept in excellent shape by participating in a small swim 
club she had formed with some other female executives in the area.  
Her relay team had competed in swim meets with other corporate 
groups.  The competitive women had won several ribbons, although 
first place had eluded them. 

But, when their health club closed their pool for renovations, 
the team had no place to practice.  Barbara had entered into 
negotiations with a small local college to use their pool, which 
was available for private use three nights a week.  The college 
had agreed, provided that they could find a faculty sponsor to 
supervise the team when it was on school property.  Unfortunately 
for the women, the only faculty sponsor available was Coach Leer. 

The women knew of Coach Leer's reputation for "accidentally" 
walking in on his female athletes in various stages of undress, 
and there were rumors that he used his power over women athletes 
in unscrupulous ways.   But, along with his reputation as an 
uncompromising disciplinarian, Leer was also known as a man who 
could coach a winning team. 

The six young women on Barbara's team had discussed the coach over 
a bottle of wine and had unanimously concluded that the only 
solution was to agree to whatever he demanded.  Much to Barbara's 
initial surprise, the conversation quickly turned to the women's 
sex fantasies, each of the powerful career women admitting that 
the coach's reputation for peeking and power games was a real turn-on.    

All six executives had stress-filled power jobs, and they agreed 
that it might be fun -- even therapeutic -- to live out their 
exhibitionist fantasies by "submitting" to the sexist antics of 
the coach.  After all, the women reasoned, they were all competent, 
educated professional women at the top of the pyramid.  How bad 
could a few practices with him really be? 

"Besides," Cynthia said, "Leer is a good coach.  If it takes a 
little humiliation to produce a winning team, then I say, let's 
do it."  Her slightly drunken, randy teammates quickly agreed, 
and Barbara was selected to drop off the enrollment forms the 
coach had requested. 

Although she was used to cutting million dollar deals, Barbara's 
instincts told her that her first meeting with the coach was going 
to be different.  Coach Leer knew that the women needed him more 
than he needed them, and Barbara had no doubt that a lecherous 
tyrant like him would take full advantage of the situation. 

She nervously knocked on the door to the coach's office and was 
surprised when he greeted her warmly.  He offered her a seat and 
immediately asked her if she had brought the enrollment forms.   

The coach insisted that everyone on the team enroll as "students 
at large" in the college, so that they would be covered by the 
school's insurance when on school property.  The request seemed 
reasonable enough, although Barbara felt a slight twinge when the 
coach explained that the forms also meant that, once the women were 
enrolled, they would be no different than any other student -- and 
would have to submit fully to his authority.  

He smiled broadly when she handed him the forms.  After checking 
that each form was signed, he locked them in his desk and 
immediately suggested that they both "hit the showers." 

Barbara was stunned when she walked into the large locker room.  
The beautifully tiled locker room at her health club contained 
private shower stalls, with curtained-off changing rooms in front 
of each stall.  But the large gang shower here, by contrast, was 
basically a slightly sunken area in the center of a large, brightly 
lit concrete room.  Instead of shower nozzles, a series of pipes 
with sprinkler holes ran across the ceiling in horizontal rows 
spaced every four feet.  

A few feet away was a small office that was separated from the 
shower area only by a large glass partition.  Barbara noted 
unhappily that anyone sitting in the office would have a perfect 
and unobstructed view of the showers. 

"I'll turn on the water for only the first pipe when you girls take 
your showers, since there aren't that many of you," the coach 
explained.  "There is plenty of room in the front row for you 
girls to stand shoulder to shoulder and take your showers."  

"Where will...y-you be?" Barbara asked, nervously. 

"While you girls are showering, I'll just sit in the office," he 
said.  He looked Barbara up and down appraisingly, and she felt 
flushed as he undressed her with his eyes.  "And observe!" he 
added, with sly grin. 

"But, we'll be...naked!" she said, her voice trembling in disbelief. 

"BUTT naked!" the coach replied, cheerfully.  "Regrettably, the 
rules require me to stay in the office and supervise, in case 
there is an accident...and to make sure that there's no horseplay.  
Don't worry; I'll keep a close eye on you ladies!" 

From the way the coach was looking at her, Barbara knew that he 
would keep his word.  She frowned as she imagined the scene.  She 
and her teammates would be lined up in a row, which would give him 
a clear view of each of them.  They could turn their backs to him, 
of course, but the rear wall of the shower room was mirrored, which 
meant that he could get a good view of both the fronts and backs of 
all the women without difficulty.   

The women wouldn't be able to adjust the water or even reach the 
pipe above their heads, and the coach would have total control of 
the temperature and water pressure.  Barbara had heard stories 
about the coach's predilection for "humorously" adjusting the water 
temperature while the team was showering.  She blushed as she 
imagined prancing around helplessly under a suddenly freezing spray 
while the coach sat comfortably in his office and laughed at the show. 

To Barbara the entire situation was almost unbelievable.  Her 
colleagues were attractive and successful career women: corporate 
executives, lawyers, small business owners, and high-priced 
consultants.  Was it really possible that he was going to force 
them to strip totally naked and scamper around in a group shower 
like they were posing for some sleazy pictorial? 

"Couldn't we wear our swimsuits in the shower?" she asked, 
tentatively, while looking desperately for an exit from the 
humiliating, prison-like shower block. 

"Absolutely not," the coach sternly replied.  "The health 
department requires a NUDE shower before entering the pool.  
And that means all of you fine ladies will be showering in 
front of me absolutely, completely, 100%, bare naked!"  The 
delight in his voice was obvious.  Clearly, the lecherous 
old perv could hardly wait to strip her and her lovely 
colleagues naked and throw them into the shower. 

"Of course, school rules also require a shower AFTER practice, to 
wash off the chlorine."  He paused and smiled before springing his 
next surprise.  "Since this is an all female team, you will swim 
in the grand tradition of the first Olympics.  None of you will be 
allowed to wear swimsuits, and all of our practices will be held 
in the nude. 

Barbara was stunned for a moment, but quickly regained her 
composure.  "That's ridiculous," she shot back.  "It's bad 
enough that we have to shower in front of you, but you can't 
seriously expect us to prance around the pool in 'the altogether'!" 

The coach looked at her sternly.  "Perhaps we would be more 
comfortable if we discussed this in my office," he said, curtly. 

The two walked into the adjoining office, and the coach sat down 
behind the wooden desk.  Barbara pulled up a chair and started to 
sit, but he stopped her dead in her tracks. 

"I'd like to remind you that you are a student in MY office, young 
lady, and I did NOT give you permission to sit down!"  

She was stunned by his change in tone.  But there was something 
about his voice that brooked no contradiction, and she found 
herself standing anxiously in front of his desk like the nervous 
student she suddenly was. 

"YOU are the one who asked to be here, and I agreed to coach your 
team as a favor," he said.  "So it's my way...or the highway!  As 
far as I'm concerned, you're just another student, and that means 
you toe the line and follow MY rules.  When you're in my pool, the 
only suit you are going to wear is your birthday suit!"  

Barbara shifted nervously from foot to foot as he continued his 
harangue.  As a successful executive, she was used to being in 
charge and to being treated in a deferential (even servile) way.  
But it was clear that her new coach regarded her as just another 
naughty student who needed a good talking-to. 

"As a coach, Barbara, it is sometimes my unfortunate duty to have 
to discipline my students," he went on.  "I'm sure that you 
wouldn't like it if I made you run laps or do squats or jumping 
jacks.  With the 'uniform' you'll be wearing, that could put you 
in a rather awkward position." 

She flinched at the image of herself doing naked squats in front of 
the drooling coach.  But, despite her humiliation -- or perhaps 
because of it -- she felt herself becoming very aroused. 

The coach reached into his desk and pulled out a dark leather 
smacking strap called a tawse.  "Of course, when a young woman 
behaves like a smart-mouthed little girl, it's often better to 
get to the 'seat' of the matter!"  

She looked thoughtfully at the coach playing with his strap and 
considered the situation.  All of her teammates were in their 
twenties and thirties, and the thought of being forced to prance 
around naked under the threat of a spanking was clearly absurd.  
But the power exchange that Coach was proposing left her incredibly 
hot, and the dampness between her legs was undeniable. 

She knew from her conversations that forced exhibitionism scenarios 
turned on her teammates, too, and, though she knew that none of the 
women had expected the coach to push their fantasies so far, she 
suspected her randy friends would be as excited as she was.... 

"Yes, sir," she agreed, meekly.  "We'll take our showers...just 
the way you say, sir.  And we'll practice...n-naked!" 

The coach smiled triumphantly.  He couldn't wait for the first day 
of practice.   

Then the office door opened.  "I have all the equipment ready for 
the team, Coach.  Do you want me to bring it in?" 

"Sure, Stanley, come on in," the coach replied.   

Barbara was surprised to suddenly find herself standing a few feet 
from Stanley Hollis, a fresh-faced 19-year-old college student.  
Ten years ago, when she herself had been in college, she was 
Stanley's regular babysitter, and she had to admit that she had 
been something of a bitch.  But now things were different, and it 
was he who towered over her as he strode past her and sat down in 
the chair that she had been ordered out of.  He dropped a large gym 
bag alongside. 

"It's nice to see you again, Barbara," Stanley said to the stunned 
executive standing nervously in front of the coach's desk. 

"It's nice to see you too, Stanley," she lied.  Under the present 
circumstances, there were few people in the world that she wanted 
to see LESS than Stanley Hollis! 

"Since Stanley is going to be helping me coach your team, I think 
you should really start calling him 'Coach,' Barbara," Coach Leer 
said, in a patronizing tone. 

"What will 'Coach Stanley' be helping with?" she asked, nervously. 

"Stanley will supervise the shower area and help maintain 
discipline."  Leer was stroking the tawse with obvious affection.  
"He volunteered to do the job for free after he heard you were on 
the team, Barbara.  It was his idea to have you girls practice 
'Grecian style,' and he's working right now on a way to keep 
your long hair from clogging up the pool drains.  Tell her what 
you've decided, Stanley." 

"Well, before the first practice, I'll march you ladies down to the 
barber shop for mandatory haircuts, because, even with swim caps, 
long hair can be a problem.  I considered a buzz cut, but I decided 
that a very short page boy look would be okay.  A couple of my frat 
brothers work part-time as barbers, and they agreed to give you 
ladies a group rate. 

"So you needn't worry about having to get a crew cut," he said, 
magnanimously.  "Except, perhaps, as punishment," he added, with 
a cruel smile. 

Barbara's hands immediately flew to her head as she imagined 
herself sitting helplessly in the barber's chair as the grinning 
Stanley watched his fraternity brother snip off her beautiful 
blonde hair.  Stanley knew the vain executive was in love with her 
long golden locks, and she knew that Stanley had engineered this 
particular humiliation with her in mind. 

"Of course, since they'll be practicing in the nude, the hair 
between their legs will have to go, too," Stanley said, casually, 
smiling at the coach.  "After I finish shearing our little lambs 
at the barber, I'll shepherd them back to the gym for a nice close 
shave." 

Stanley reached into his bag and pulled out two shiny metal 
contraptions that looked like something out of Dr. Frankenstein's 
lab.  He brushed past Barbara and knelt down to fasten the two 
ridiculous looking silver attachments to the end of desk, 
tightening the clamps securely. 

Barbara looked on in bewilderment as Stanley explained the devices. 
"After we get them back to the locker room, we'll strip them down 
naked and line them up outside the office.  They can come in one 
at a time, put their feet up into these stirrups, and then we can 
shear our new litter of little pussies clean as whistles." 

Barbara shuddered when she realized what Stanley had attached to 
the end of the table.  Those metal contraptions had transformed 
the ordinary desk into a medical exam table.  Not only was Barbara 
going to have to strip naked and parade around in front of the 
leering teenager, she was going to lie flat on her back and put 
her feet into the humiliating steel stirrups...and be shaved. 

Her face turned crimson as she imagined Stanley teasingly running 
his fingers through her lightly colored blonde fuzz.  The degrading 
stirrups would allow him and the grinning coach to closely examine 
all of her most delicate and private feminine secrets in detail.  
The shaving process would be even worse and would literally give 
Stanley a free hand to probe all of her most delicate and secret 
places. 

"I purchased a shaving cup," Stanley said, extracting a porcelain  
shaving mug and a badger brush from the bag.  "If I mix the lather 
myself, I can add in some inhibitor cream that will keep the hair 
from growing back so fast.  I thought of trying to mix the lather 
beforehand, but I think I will get a better result if I wait until 
each girl has her feet in the stirrups.  Then I can use the mug to 
mix up a hot, fresh, tingly batch for each girl.  I can baste it on 
with the brush, but I'll need to use my fingers to really rub it 
in," he explained.  "It burns a bit, but it works like a charm," 
he added, brightly. 

Barbara grimaced as she imagined herself up on the table with her 
feet in the stirrups, looking on helplessly as Stanley tauntingly 
stirred the burning cream into a thick lather.  She knew he would 
take his time, relishing every moment of her fear, exposure, and 
humiliation. 

"There's one other set of items I picked up," he went on.  "I was 
concerned that, even with the exercise, the pool water might get 
cold, especially considering that our little cuties will be 
paddling around buck naked.  So I picked up a thermometer for 
each one of them, and I'll take their temperatures after practice 
each day, just to make sure the pool temperature is correct." 

He reached into his bag of tricks and handed Barbara small 
thermometer.  She swallowed hard when she read the label.  

"Th-these are...r-rectal thermometers, sir," she stammered, 
desperately hoping that it was all a terrible mistake. 

"You get a more accurate reading that way, Barbara," he said.  "But 
don't worry; it won't hurt a bit."  He reached into his bag again 
and pulled out a large box of disposable rubber gloves and a jumbo 
tube of lubricating jelly, which he placed on the desk in front of 
him. 

"After practice I'll just line them up in a row on their hands and 
knees, with their heads on the ground, their cute little butts in 
the air, and their lovely thighs spread nice and wide," he said, 
obviously enjoying the mental image.  "With the thermometers 
sticking out of their backsides, they'll look like a row of turkeys 
cooking," he chortled.  "I'll keep the tawse handy too, since that 
will probably be a good opportunity for us to review the practice."  

"Boy, you thought of everything, Stanley," the beaming coach said 
proudly.  "Isn't it wonderful that my assistant has done so much 
planning, Barbara?  I really think you ought to thank him." 

"Yes, sir," she said, looking at her shoes.  "Thank you for 
preparing everything, C-coach Stanley."  Despite her humiliation, 
she couldn't believe how hot she was getting. 

"You're very welcome...Barbie," Stanley replied, graciously.  
"It was really my pleasure.  And I actually have lots of other 
surprises planned for you girls!" 

Barbara flinched as she imagined the "surprises" her nemesis had 
planned.  But mostly she flinched at the name "Barbie," which had 
always reminded the proud executive of the sexist "Barbie doll" 
image she had fought to avoid.  Of course, after Stanley stripped 
her naked and removed the hair between her legs, a Barbie doll is 
exactly what she would look like. 

"You're dismissed, Barbie," the coach said, teasingly, picking up 
on the hated nickname.  "You run along like a good little girl 
while I finish up my planning session with Coach Stanley." 

Her head still bowed in shame, Barbara obediently shuffled out of 
the room and headed towards the door that led to the gym.  She was 
humiliated beyond words, but grateful for her escape.  It was only 
when she pulled on the handle to the gym door that she realized 
that it was locked. 

She nervously returned to the office where the two men were 
chatting jovially.  The coach was complimenting Stanley on 
his wonderful idea to raise money by selling the frat houses 
"spectator" tickets to the team's practices.... 

Barbara explained that the door to the gym was locked, and Stanley 
said that he had locked it behind him and had unfortunately left 
the key in the other building.  The coach told Barbara she would 
have to leave by walking through the pool area. 

"There's only one problem, Coach," Stanley said, sadly.  "You and 
I, we're wearing our gym stuff, but Barbie is dressed in her 
ordinary street clothes -- and street clothes aren't allowed 
in the pool area."

The coach immediately saw the ramifications of Stanley's "mistake" 
with the keys and turned to Barbara with a big smile.  "I'm sorry, 
Barbie, but you're going to have to take off all your clothes."  

She stared at the two smiling men like a deer in the headlights.

"Take off my...clothes?" 

"I'm afraid so," Stanley said with mock sadness.  "You can put your 
clothes in my bag, and Coach and I will escort you through the pool 
area.  You can put your clothes back on as soon as you get out into 
the parking lot." 

The parking lot!  Not only were they going to strip her naked, they 
were going to parade her through the halls and out into the parking 
lot!  Barbara winced as she remembered the fraternity house and the 
large student dorm across the street.  She wondered if Stanley had 
friends there. 

"But I can't just strip down na-na-naked...in front of you," she 
protested weakly. 

"We already discussed that, Barbie," the coach said, once again 
reaching for the tawse.  "Are you going to be a good girl, or do 
you need your first lesson in obedience right now?  If you're a 
good girl, you can step over in front of the picture window, so 
you'll have more room." 

She swallowed hard.  He was caressing the tawse meaningfully, 
and she had no doubt that he would be delighted to use it.  The 
thought of stripping in front of Stanley and him was unspeakably 
humiliating, but the thought of being taken over the coach's 
knee for a bare bottom spanking was infinitely worse.

"I-I'll be...a g-good girl, sir." 

She walked over in front of the picture window and turned to face 
her two tormentors.  She shivered and then kicked off her shoes. 

"Put your clothes neatly beside you, Barbie," Stanley said, in a 
patronizing tone.   

She submissively squatted down to rearrange her shoes, and then 
stood again.  She slowly took off her blue jacket and folded it 
neatly, setting it beside her on the floor.  Then she reached 
behind her and unzipped her skirt. 

"I think women in expensive business suits look sexy, don't you, 
Coach?" Stanley said, casually.   

"Yeah, but women stripping out of them look even sexier!" the coach 
said, with a lewd chuckle. 

Barbie stepped out of her skirt and slowly started unbuttoning her 
crisp white blouse.  Stanley was smiling at her and tapping his 
toe to an imaginary tune, but he quickly shifted the tempo so 
that each tap of his foot matched the loss of a button. 

Barbara folded her blouse neatly and placed it on top of the suit.  
After a pause, she reached for the hem of her pink slip.

"Do you think Barbie's wearing matching undies?" Coach asked.   

"I'm sure of it," Stanley replied.  "Barbie dolls always wear 
matching outfits," he grinned. 

Barbara felt a surge of anger flash through her at the humiliating 
comparison, but quickly pulled the pink slip over her head.  As 
Stanley had predicted, she was wearing expensive, matching pink 
bra, panties, and garter belt. 

"Nice frillies," Stanley said, holding up both thumbs to show his 
approval for the lacy underwear.   

"It looks like someone has a charge account at Victoria's Secret," 
the coach added, with a sly smile. 

"I don't think Victoria's going to have any secrets left after 
today," Stanley said, with a laugh, as Barbara fidgeted nervously 
in front of the two horny men. 

It was somewhat awkward for her to take off her stockings and 
garter belt while standing up, but neither one of the men offered 
her any assistance.  Instead, they just laughed and joked about 
the blushing beauty's "fabulous legs." 

She was now wearing nothing but her bra and panties.  She stood 
there nervously, with her arms folded across her chest for several 
seconds, hoping that the two men might issue a reprieve. 

But a reprieve was the last thing on their minds.  "Now the show 
gets interesting," Coach said.  "Don't dawdle, Barbie!"  

She turned her back and quickly unhooked her bra.  It was several 
seconds before she realized that her move had accomplished nothing, 
and the men were now staring at her hardened nipples in the mirror. 

Barbie closed her eyes and slowly slid her panties down her legs, 
giving the men a lovely view of her upturned backside as she 
gingerly stepped out of her frilly unmentionables.   

She squeezed her thighs together to try to hide her shameful 
wetness, but it was a losing battle.  She was now stark naked, 
and she closed her eyes before slowly turning to expose herself 
completely for their lewd amusement.   

"I do believe we have a natural blonde," Coach said, appreciatively.

"Forget the color.  Look at how wet she is!" Stanley said.  "I do 
believe we have a natural bimbo." 

"Okay, Bimbo Barbie," Coach said, cruelly christening Barbara with 
her new team nickname.  "Put your hands on top of your head and 
spread your legs." 

Blushing, Bimbo Barbie meekly complied. 

Coach Leer picked up the tawse and walked over to the naked, 
blushing executive.  Barbie flinched as he ran his finger 
between her legs.  He held up his wet, glistening digits, and 
Stanley laughed.  Coach then unceremoniously stuffed Barbie's 
expensive clothes into the gym bag and took a moment to run his 
eyes up and down her body before speaking. 

"You know, Barbie should really take a shower before entering the 
pool area," he said. thoughtfully.  "But, before we do that, we 
might as well test out the thermometer, the shaving kit, and the 
stirrups, seeing as how you were kind enough to set them up for 
us, Stanley." 

Stanley said nothing, but started to whistle happily as he cleared 
off the coach's desk and moved it away from the wall, so that there 
would be more room for her right foot.  She stared at him in 
disbelief as he tapped the stirrup twice and smiled at her. 

Suddenly she felt a sharp "WHAP!" as the strap exploded across the 
cheeks of her bare bottom.  "Quit dawdling, girl!" Coach said.  
"Mount up!" 

After a second swat, she obediently scooted over and sat on the 
edge of the desk, her arms folded over her breasts and her thighs 
clenched tightly together. 

Stanley looked at the blushing girl with a triumphant smile and 
walked across the locker room to fill up the shaving cup with hot 
water.  Then he returned and stood directly in front of the "exam 
table," facing her. 

Barbie was confused.  Why didn't he go ahead and prepare the lather?   

Then she remembered his plan to wait until each girl had her feet 
in the stirrups before he began mixing the ingredients.  She 
frowned.  Stanley was standing only a few feet in front of her, 
which meant that she would have to spread her thighs and let the 
grinning teen stare at her dripping wet crotch while he mixed his 
noxious, burning brew. 

Barbie looked over at Coach Leer for assistance, but he simply 
smiled at her and began tapping the strap meaningfully against 
his palm. 

So she leaned back and closed her eyes.  She clenched her teeth as 
she put her dainty feet into the cold steel stirrups....   

The coach let out a low whistle as her femininity came into full 
view.  She felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead. 

Against her better judgment, she opened her eyes and looked between 
her legs at "Coach Stanley," who was now regarding her exposed, wet 
sex.   

"Whenever I dream about you, my little Bimbo Barbie, this is how 
I'll see you," he said, with a wink. 

She leaned back on the table and stared at the ceiling.  The air 
conditioner turned on, and she felt even more exposed as the cold 
air gently wafted between her widely-spread legs and across her 
shamelessly wet sex.    

She shivered as the frigid air hardened her nipples.  There were 
goose bumps on her skin, and she knew that the cold air would make 
her body exquisitely sensitive to touch. 

Bimbo Barbie closed her eyes and tried frantically to think of 
something else, but she was distracted by the insistent sounds 
of Stanley's playful whistling and the brush tinkling against 
the side of the shaving cup as he lovingly worked up a lather....



Edited by C. Lakewood