Baldies only
Bella had always been the wild type, sneaking out with her friends during summer break from college. At 19, the sophomore figured she could handle a night of partying without consequences. But when her strict mom caught her stumbling home at dawn, reeking of booze and smoke, all hell broke loose. ‘You’re grounded until I say otherwise,’ her mom snapped, eyes blazing. The next morning, still hungover, Bella found herself dragged to a unisex barbershop on the edge of town. ‘This’ll teach you some discipline,’ her mom said, shoving her toward the empty chair.
Jill, the 25-year-old barberette behind the counter, looked up with a sly smile. She was fit and confident, her own short crop of dark hair framing sharp features. Bella’s mom explained the situation in hushed tones: ‘Give her a proper haircut. Something to remind her who’s in charge. I’ll be back after my errands.’ With that, she stormed out, leaving Bella sniffling in the hydraulic chair, tears streaking her mascara. The cape draped over her shoulders felt like a shroud.
Jill circled her slowly, running fingers through Bella’s long, wavy locks. ‘Don’t cry, sweetie. It’ll be over soon. Or maybe you’ll like it.’ She lathered up a fresh bowl of shaving cream, the scent of mint filling the air. Bella squirmed, but Jill’s hand pressed firm on her shoulder. The clippers buzzed to life first, shearing off chunks of hair in swift passes. Strands tumbled like confetti, piling at Bella’s feet. She whimpered, but as the vibrations hummed against her scalp, a strange heat built between her thighs.
Jill set the clippers aside and spread the warm foam over Bella’s newly buzzed head, massaging it in with deliberate strokes. Her fingers lingered, tracing circles that sent shivers down Bella’s spine. The straight razor gleamed under the shop lights. ‘Hold still now,’ Jill murmured, tilting Bella’s head back. The first stroke scraped smoothly, peeling away the foam and stubble, revealing pale, sensitive skin. Bella’s breath hitched. Her hand, hidden under the cape, slipped into her shorts, fingers finding her slick folds. She rubbed her clit in slow circles, biting her lip to stifle a moan.
Jill noticed the flush on Bella’s cheeks, the way her hips shifted subtly. She smirked, pressing the razor closer, gliding it over the crown, then the sides. Each pass exposed more bare scalp, the cool air kissing the freshly shaved skin. Bella’s fingers plunged deeper, two digits thrusting into her pussy as she fingered herself harder. ‘Oh god,’ she gasped, unable to hold back. Jill’s free hand brushed Bella’s thigh under the cape, encouraging. ‘That’s it, let it out.’ The razor worked methodically, shaving behind the ears, over the nape, until Bella’s head was completely smooth, gleaming bald.
By the time Jill wiped away the last traces of foam and applied a soothing lotion—her touch lingering like a caress—Bella was trembling on the edge. She came hard right there in the chair, pussy clenching around her fingers, juices soaking her panties. Moans escaped in waves, echoing softly in the empty shop. Jill stepped back, admiring her work. ‘Looks good on you. Feels even better, doesn’t it?’ Bella nodded weakly, tears now mixed with something like ecstasy.
Her mom returned oblivious, nodding approval at the drastic change. ‘Good. Now maybe you’ll think twice.’ Back home, Bella bolted to her room, stripping naked and diving onto her bed. Her hands roamed her bald head, the smoothness igniting fresh arousal. She replayed the razor’s scrape, Jill’s commanding presence, as she spread her legs wide. Fingers dove into her dripping cunt, rubbing her swollen clit furiously. She came again and again that night, orgasms crashing like waves, until exhaustion claimed her. For the entire week, she barely left her room—curtains drawn, door locked—lost in compulsive masturbation. Toys, fingers, even the showerhead’s pulse against her clit; nothing was off-limits as she fixated on the memory of her shaved scalp, fingering her pussy multiple times a day.
Finally, she emerged for a shower, water cascading over her body. As she soaped up, her palm grazed the faint stubble regrowing on her head. The texture sent a jolt straight to her core. She grabbed her mom’s razor from the shelf, lathering her scalp hastily. Strokes were uneven but determined, shaving away the prickles until her head was bald once more. Emboldened, she moved to her eyebrows, scraping them clean with careful passes of the razor, leaving her face strikingly bare. Staring at her reflection, Bella traced the smooth arches where her brows had been, her wide eyes dominating her features in an alien-like way—bold, otherworldly, exposed. The sight thrilled her, pussy throbbing as she imagined herself as some sleek, hairless creature. Her hand slipped between her thighs again, circling her clit as she admired the change. Another orgasm rippled through her, sealing the addiction.
Then, lower—pits, the trim strip above her pussy, her legs, even the fine hairs on her arms. She rinsed, feeling utterly exposed, vulnerable, alive. This became her ritual every day for the rest of summer break. Mornings in the shower: razor gliding over scalp, face, body, erasing every trace of hair while she masturbated furiously, fingers pumping her wet pussy until she squirted against the tiles. Afternoons and nights blurred into sessions of frantic self-pleasure—fucking herself with fingers, humping pillows, edging for hours. The smoothness fueled her, a constant reminder of submission, of that first shave. She barely ate, spoke to no one, her world shrinking to slick skin and shuddering climaxes, always ending with the razor in hand to maintain her bald state.
Her mom noticed the changes, the way Bella avoided mirrors at first but then lingered in them. Instead of scolding, a new dominance emerged. ‘If you’re going to act like this, you’ll earn your keep,’ her mom declared one evening. From then on, Bella’s days included scrubbing floors on her knees, naked except for an apron, while her mom watched. ‘Clean every inch, or no dinner.’ Bella obeyed, the humiliation stirring her arousal; she’d sneak off to finger her pussy afterward, coming to the control. Her mom dictated outfits—none, mostly— and bedtime routines, even inspecting her smooth body nightly, running hands over the razor-fresh skin. ‘Good girl. Keep it bare.’ The power dynamic deepened Bella’s submission at home, blending with her private obsessions.
Fall semester pulled her back to college, where curious stares followed her chin-length bob—the hair having grown just enough to pass as a bold style. Classes dragged, but the itch returned stronger. Parties tempted her, but one night, her ex-boyfriend cornered her at a frat house. They’d broken up messily before break, but he pulled her into a bedroom, pinning her down. ‘Missed this,’ he growled, yanking her skirt up and thrusting his cock into her pussy without preamble. Bella moaned, legs wrapping around him as he fucked her hard, pounding deep until she came clenching around him. But as he pulled out, shooting cum across her stomach, she saw the phone in his hand—recording the whole thing.
The next day, the video spread like wildfire: clips of her begging for more, face twisted in ecstasy, sent to classmates, professors, even posted online. Whispers followed her in halls, judgmental texts buzzing her phone. Humiliation burned, but alone in her dorm, Bella stripped and replayed the video on her laptop. Watching herself get railed, exposed to everyone, ignited a twisted heat. She spread her legs, fingers diving into her soaked cunt, rubbing her clit as she came to the embarrassment, over and over, the shame fueling her orgasms like never before.
As soon as summer break hit again, she drove straight to the barbershop, heart pounding. Jill’s eyes lit up when she walked in. ‘Knew you’d be back.’ No words needed; Bella climbed into the chair, cape on, already wet. Jill wasted no time, lathering the bobbed hair and buzzing it short before the razor took over. But this time, she didn’t stop at the scalp—after shaving Bella’s head smooth, she tilted her face up and carefully razored off her eyebrows too, leaving her bald as an egg, features stark and alien. ‘Perfect,’ Jill whispered, her fingers tracing the bare skin. Under the cape, Bella’s fingers worked her pussy relentlessly, thrusting deep as moans filled the shop. She came explosively as the final strokes finished, body shaking.
Jill leaned in close, whispering, ‘You’re mine now, aren’t you? On your knees.’ Bella slid to the floor, heart racing, and buried her face between Jill’s thighs. She lapped at Jill’s wet pussy, tongue flicking her clit, sucking the folds as Jill gripped her bald head, grinding against her mouth. ‘Deeper, slave,’ Jill commanded, coming with a shudder, juices coating Bella’s lips. But Jill wasn’t done. She strapped on a thick dildo, bending Bella over the chair. ‘Spread your ass.’ The peg pushed into Bella’s pussy first, then switched to her tight hole, thrusting rhythmically as Bella fingered her clit, moaning in submission. Jill fucked her hard, slapping her smooth scalp, until Bella squirted, collapsing in bliss.
‘Come back tomorrow,’ Jill commanded, handing her a small bottle of aftershave. Bella obeyed without question. The next day, same routine: shave head and eyebrows razor-smooth, bald as an egg; Bella eating Jill’s pussy until she quivered; pegging that left her gaping and spent; masturbation during the process, fingers always busy in her cunt. Daily trips turned into a ritual—Jill keeping her perpetually bare, razoring every stray hair, the alien smoothness a mark of ownership. By the third visit, Bella knelt after, licking Jill’s boots in gratitude. Jill’s hands grew bolder, slipping under the cape to pinch nipples or slap ass lightly during shaves.
Summer wore on, and Bella’s life revolved around the shop, her mom’s house a secondary domain of chores and control—vacuuming nude, cooking meals while plugged with a toy her mom chose. She quit her part-time job, ignored calls from friends and family. Jill collared her one afternoon, a simple leather band around her neck. ‘My slave now.’ Bella dropped to her knees, pussy throbbing, and serviced Jill on demand—tongue in her ass, pegged until she begged. From then on, it was total surrender: daily erotic shavings of head and brows, endless masturbation under Jill’s watchful eye, pussy eaten and fucked raw. Orgasms were rewards, submission her air.
College became a distant memory; Bella dropped out, moving into a small apartment above the shop. Jill owned her completely—shaving not just her head and eyebrows but her pussy lips smooth, body hair a forbidden relic, always with the razor for that perfect, egg-bald finish. Bella’s days filled with service: cleaning the shop naked, pleasuring Jill on demand—lapping her pussy, taking the peg deep—masturbating only when permitted, even as her mom visited occasionally to assert household dominance, making her scrub on all fours. She was theirs forever—bald, bare, blissfully enslaved.
