And the Game Goes On…
A Change of the Rules (Conclusion)
By the end of the fourth day in camp, both Mistress and I noticed Delores Ashland beginning to flex her will once again. Even though Mistress had put her in her place, and threatened her with exposure with the image of her abusing me, she still managed to exert some authority around the camp. She somehow managed to get my car keys back from Mistress, we suspect through thievery of some sort.
Twisting the explanation of her head-shaving to resemble more of a symbol of solidarity, rather than humiliation, she had once again gained the trust and admiration of the rest of the campers, including the adolescent group, to which I belonged, technically.
She had left Mistress and I alone, so far, other than the reacquisition of my keys, which, we assumed were hidden rather well. Delores also had begun to lock the office, something she had never done before. Mistress didn’t seem worried by the trend, but I could see an uneasiness in her eyes whenever Ms. Ashland was around.
During the evenings I was the most penitent slave I could be, serving my Mistress in whatever manner she saw fit. There wasn’t a square millimeter of her body that hadn’t been bathed by my tongue, and not the tiniest fleck of my own flesh that hadn’t been marked by her lash, crop, or open palm.
I was put in charge of my own depilation, which was one hundred percent from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Mistress had gone one step farther with my eyelashes, having plucked them out individually. I wondered if they would ever grow back, but if they didn’t, it was so much the better.
My tattoo was healing but itched terribly at night, and it was a struggle to keep my hands away from it. Mistress pared my fingernails incredibly close to the quick to prevent me from scratching in my sleep.
To be honest, we were both amused when Ms. Ashland started to walk around, sans baseball cap. The sun had even begun to darken her scalp, and Mistress commented that she was certain Delores had razored her head, after Mistress had clippered her so close. I imagined her masturbating in front of her bathroom mirror with one hand while the other divested her of any remaining stubble Mistress had missed.
Each time I looked down at my new tattoo, I was reminded of my place. I had officially given up any notion of being anything but the most devout lesbian. I knew that eventually, even the thought of touching or being touched by a boy would be repulsive to me.
Both Mistress and I were amused when Ms. Ashland began to appear around the camp, sans her baseball cap, and seemed to cement her authority with the campers as a result. This worried me, but it didn’t seem to bother Mistress at all.
Thursday, Mistress surprised me when she presented me with a small velvet box. I opened it at her insistence, finding three silver rings inside. Two were smaller and identical, and one was much larger and thicker.
“You’ll be a good slave and wear these for me, won’t you?” She asked, unnecessarily. She picked up the smaller pair. “These go in your lovely nipples,” reaching out and tweaking one with her thumb and forefinger, “and this… goes here.” Moving up from my nipple she securely grasped my nose with a finger in each nostril.
I opened my mouth to protest, but perhaps knowing better, no sound of complaint was made. I watched, fearfully, as she laid out, what could only be described as a sterile field. On it, she placed the rings, minus the small silver balls which secured them, several needles, a funny-looking hemostat, gauze, and alcohol. It all looked very professional.
“This will sting, just a bit,” Mistress warned, as she held up a thick hollow needle to the side of my left nipple. I braced myself against the seat of the chair as the searing pain coursed excruciatingly through my breast. Once the ring was in place and the pain subsided, and it was time for the other. This one, I think, hurt a bit more than the first and I bit my lip in order to stop myself from yelling out. Mistress inserted the silver balls into the space between the ends of the ring and they were securely in place.
It took all of my will, and stoicism to get through the next part. Mistress grasped my septum with the hemostats, which instantly caused my nose and eyes to water. This was nothing compared to the veritable flood which cascaded down my cheeks as the needle pierced my delicate nose. I gasped in shock as the ring was forced through the hole, but as with the nipple rings, the pain stopped almost as soon as the ring was inserted. The ball on the larger ring was screwed into place, unlike the others, and Mistress was careful to tighten the ball securely.
“That will be next to impossible to loosen, but eventually I will epoxy it in place permanently.” This thought both scared and excited me.
I could feel the cold metal of the rings resting against my areolae, but was most striking was the sensation of the larger ring and its weight resting against my upper lip.
Mistress stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Lovely.” She smiled. “Would you like to see?”
I nodded, and after she helped me to my feet, we walked to the bathroom together. She watched my reaction carefully as I took in my new jewelry. The nipple rings were lovely, and complimented my rather large nipples and breasts.
The nose ring, however, was an entirely different experience. It was nothing but humiliation at its most dehumanizing and degrading levels. The ring, looking much larger on my face, hung so the silver ball rested perfectly to where my lower and upper lips met. I felt like a pig or a cow, so large was the ring and I fully expected to be led around by it eventually. It could serve no other practical purpose. It was both humiliating and arousing because of it. I couldn’t help but reach up to touch it.
“You will get used to it, slave.” Mistress offered. “It is as much a part of you now, as your ears or your mouth.”
It was Monday, the first day of the second week, and Mistress and I were just finishing up our morning routines; me shaving myself from head to toe, and Mistress caring for her magnificent mane of blonde tresses. We were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door to the cabin. So, it fell upon me to answer the door, being forced to don something quickly.
When I opened the door, two of the adolescent campers were standing at the other side of it. “Yes?”
“Ms. Ashland would like to see the two of you in her office in twenty minutes.” The one blurted.
“Whatever for?” I asked, surprised.
“I suggest you be there, Ms. Burns.” The larger of the two girls called out. “She seems pissed off about something.”
After pushing the two out, I closed the door securely and immediately ran to my Mistress. “What do you think she wants?”
“I sense another showdown coming up, slave. I think she’s forgotten about the photo.” Mistress sneered, acidly.
As we made our way down to the camp office, I couldn’t help but notice that most of the campers were staring at us from wherever they were. It made me feel as though they knew something that we didn’t.
“Ms. Burns, Miss Roberts. Come in.” Ms. Ashland said assertively, indicating two chairs on the other side of her desk.
“What can I do for you, Delores?” Mistress asked.
“Well, for starters, you, young lady, are being demoted to camper this afternoon, so I’d best prepare for that if I were you.” Ms. Ashland bit.
“Hah! Are you forgetting something? I have a certain photograph of you taking advantage of Miss Roberts, here.” Mistress maintained.
“Oh, that. Well, when I retrieved Miss Robert’s car keys, I couldn’t help but notice your phone sitting on the sideboard near the bed. I think you’ll find that your evidence against me is rather thin, Natalie.”
Mistress pulled her phone out of her pocket, and for the first time appeared slightly panicked. Scrolling through her images, I could see the look of disappointment roll over her as she realized that the damning evidence against Ms. Ashland was gone.
“So, you see, Miss Burns, you will comply with the camper’s dress code and report for your haircut this afternoon at two o’clock. I’ll have the rest of the campers assembled. I’m sure they’ll just love watching all that hair fall to the floor.” Ms. Ashland shuffled some papers and looked back at us. “That’s all girls. Oh, and Miss Roberts; love the nose ring. It suits you, I think.”
“I never signed a release. I never signed one. You can’t cut my hair.” Mistress blurted out as we were leaving. She was grasping at straws now, realizing her predicament.
“If you read the employment agreement you signed, Miss Burns, you would have noticed the clause pertaining to demotion. Goodbye, girls. See you at two.” Ms. Ashland stood and disappeared into the back, while we made for the door.
“If she thinks I’m just going to sit there and let her cut off my hair, she has another thing coming.” Mistress seethed, pushing me ahead of her as we made our way back to her cabin.
As much as dreaded seeing my beautiful Mistress shorn of her crowning glory, I was equally excited to see it happen. It was a strange mix of fetishistic arousal and a protective instinct I seem to have developed for her. She was my Mistress, my better, she always had been my better. The idea of seeing her reduced to a lowly camper, and shorn to boot, was too much for my mind to wrap around. Would I still worship her as I did then, or would the change in her appearance and status forever alter my feelings towards her? One thing was for certain, Mistress would no longer be afforded the luxury of her own cabin.
No sooner had those thoughts crossed my mind, than the same two adolescent campers arrived, supposedly, to move us into their group cabin. I took the move better than Mistress did. It was just another blow to her superiority, and it would definitely bite into whatever interaction we would have between us. So, it was with a great deal of consternation that instead of walking towards the teen cabin, we were marched up the hill to Ms. Ashland’s cottage.
“Ms. Ashland wants to keep a close eye on the two of you for the rest of the session. I’ll be taking over your counselor position for the remainder of the camp. I’m looking forward to having my own place.” Her name was Ashley Price, and she was, by all observations, a prim and proper camper, and a brown noser. She had snitched on more campers during that first week than you could count on both hands. This had won her the promotion to counselor, that, and she was the only adolescent camper, other than myself, that was over eighteen.
I tried to imagine what Ms. Ashland had in mind for us, but knew that whatever it was, it would be laced with revenge. We would pay for what we had done to her, there was no doubt in my mind.
For the first time ever, I saw fear in my Mistress’s eyes. There seemed to be no escape for her. I could see she was visibly shaking as we sat in the spare bedroom of the cottage. It was nearly two o’clock, and we needed to go.
“I can’t do this.” Mistress wept.
“Yes, Mistress, you can,” I assured her.
“Please, don’t call me that. How will you ever be able to respect me after this?” Sobbing, she reached for a tissue.
“It’s only hair, Mistress,” I said, refusing to relinquish her authority over me.
“She’s going to shave me, I know it.”
“And, so what if she does? I will not respect you any less for it. In fact, I think you’re going to look incredibly hot.” I wasn’t lying. “If you’re beautiful with hair, you are beautiful without it.”
“You are so sweet. I love you, Tina, my slave.” She mewled.
I was so shocked by her admission, that I was speechless for a moment. There could only be one response. “I love you, too, Mistress.” Realizing that it was true. “Whatever she does to you, to us, it will not change what we have together. I promise.”
“Time to go!” Mistress stood, as stoically as could be expected, and led me out the door and down the hill. I caressed her beautiful hair as I walked slightly behind her, running my fingers through its length for perhaps the last time.
We were only slightly relieved to find that the entire camp had not been assembled, only those in the adolescent cabin. They all stood in a circle around the now infamous chair.
“Ah, Natalie Burns, a little late to camp, but not too late to be initiated into our newest tradition, the camp haircut. Have a seat in the chair, Miss Burns.” Ms. Ashland glowered.
I squeezed her hand tightly as we separated, hoping to instill some confidence that I would still be there for her afterward. “Be strong,” I whispered. Watching with a mixture of dread and arousal, I had to take a deep breath as Mistress took the chair.
“Thank you, Miss Burns, for not fighting this. Your energy would have been wasted. Now, seeing as we seem to be short one camp barber, I will have to stand in. Unfortunately, my haircutting skills are no match with our new camper here, so I apologize in advance for how things might turn out.
I found a spot directly in front of Mistress, hoping that she would look up and capture my gaze. Eventually, as Ms. Ashland gathered her hair into a ponytail, Mistress looked up, and our eyes locked. They stayed locked as Ms. Ashland began sawing through the incredibly thick hair, well above the rubber band that bundled it.
Tears began to flow down Mistress’s cheeks as she felt her hair start to come away from her neck. I slowly shook my head, trying to tell her not to grant Ms. Ashland the pleasure of knowing how upset she was. Mistress quickly wiped her cheeks with her hands, squaring her shoulders in apparent defiance.
When, after almost a minute, the long gathering of hair came away in Ms. Ashland’s hand, I smiled, and to my surprise, Mistress returned the gesture. It far offset the comment that was made by Ms. Ashland.
“Well, that’s going in my personal collection.” Ms. Ashland gloated, setting the impressive ponytail on the desk behind her. “Now for the rest.”
I knew that this was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. Ms. Ashland picked up the clippers from the desk, no guard attached, and flipped them on with a pop. I saw her smile as she raised them to my Mistress’s forehead. She hesitated for a moment, leaning down to whisper something into her ear. There was no reaction from Mistress, and that seemed to annoy Ms. Ashland no end. She plunged the clippers into Mistress’s hair, leaving a barren swath of bald scalp in their wake.
Mercilessly, Ms. Ashland worked the clippers over her head. Mistress was sporting reddened lines on her scalp from the pressure being exerted on the clippers, in her efforts to have them shear even closer than they were designed to cut. All through the shaving, our eyes never wavered, remaining locked, connecting our spirits into one, I like to think. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life.
In the end, Ms. Ashland had exacted her revenge, at least she thought she had. In actually, Mistress never looked more beautiful. Her naked scalp was perfect in every way. How could it have been any different?
So, when Ashley Price walked by her and ran a hand over her scalp, Mistress didn’t move a muscle. “Nice one, baldy.”
“Shut up, Ashley.” I scolded.
“That will be Ms. Price from now on, Tina.” Ms. Ashland insisted.
Somehow, the idea of showing this girl that sort of respect, annoyed me no end. If that was going to be the case, I just wouldn’t address her at all. I just nodded to Ms. Ashland in acknowledging her demand.
“Natalie, Tina, I want to talk with you in my cottage. I want to go over a few things before you join the rest of the campers.” Ms. Ashland had the smuggest look on her face. I worried what she might want.
I helped Mistress up from the chair. Understandably upset, she was a little unsteady on her feet. “Come on. I’ve got you.” Leading her out of the office, we were met by cheers and applause from the other campers, who had gathered outside the office during Mistress’s shearing. Mistress ran a hand over her head, self-consciously, and turned away from the throng. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I tried to comfort my Mistress as we sat together on the bed. Her hands seemed unable to stay away from her scalp, and I couldn’t tell if she was finally getting used to the idea of being bald, or still suffering from the shock of it. Her face was blank for the moment.
Ms. Ashland finally arrived, closing and locking the front door behind her. I was expecting her to begin whatever perverted plan she had concocted for us, but was completely caught off guard by what happened next. A few moments after we heard her arrive, she crawled through the doorway to our room, completely naked.
Seeing this, seemed to light a spark in Mistress’s countenance, and she stood on her own for the first time since her shearing. “Well, well, what have we here?” Mistress asked, her voice husky from crying.
“I’m sorry for what I have done. Please make me your servant. Make me pay for it. I will do whatever you wish.” Ms. Ashland simpered.
I looked down at the naked, hairless creature that knelt at our feet, and then up at Mistress, who seemed every bit as surprised as I was. I smiled, my worst fears averted.
“Stand up!” Mistress commanded. “Let me have a look at you.”
As she stood, I was amused to see that the overgrown bush that she had sported, and that was forced to work through that first day, was conspicuously missing. Her shaved pussy drooled her excitement, in an obvious exhibition of her arousal. Mistress walked around her, in a mock inspection, pinching here, tweaking there, and finally running a hand over her freshly shaved head.
“If I didn’t know better, Delores, I’d say I did you a favor when I shaved your head. Isn’t that a fact?” Mistress pressed.
“Yes, Ms. Burns. It has always been a fantasy, but you have ignited something inside, it engulfs me completely.” Her legs were actually shaking with what appeared to be sexual arousal run amok.
“Do feel this?” Mistress grabbed Delores’s hand and placed it on the top of her head. “You will never, ever, have hair again. Is that understood?” Mistress chided. “My hair will grow, and in a couple of years, no one will be the wiser.” Mistress ran a hand over her own head. “Slave Tina and I have a perfect bond. She was my strength during your revengeful attack. You will have no such lifeline, slime.” Mistress bit. “I’m going to see to it that your hair is removed permanently, every single hair on your pathetic body will be lasered away. Your head, your brows, your pussy, everything bald! How do you feel about that, worm?”
“I deserve it! I do. I will submit to it. I’m so sorry for what I did.” She admitted.
“So, you knew the entire time you were shaving me, that this was where you would be afterward?” Mistress asked, in amazement. “And yet, you still did it? You still humiliated me?”
“Yes. I am so very sorry, Ms. Burns.” Ms. Ashland was no more, in her place a sniveling worm of a slave.
“You think you’re sorry now?” Mistress warned. “You have no idea what I am going to do. You will know the true nature of my wrath, worm.” I had never seen a more evil glint in anyone’s eyes in all my life. For whatever reason, I actually worried for the worm.
Mistress looked over at me and smiled. “Do you want to come, slave Tina?”
All I could do was nod, enthusiastically. At her instruction, I stripped out of my clothes completely, and stood with my legs apart.
“Lie down, with your face between her legs, worm!” Mistress commanded. She seemed all the more menacing now that she was bald, even a little terrifying, in fact.
“Now kneel down, my beautiful slave. Smother this worm with your pussy and ass.” Mistress caressed my head with her fingers, knowing how it stimulated my sex when she did.
“Make her come, worm! If you fail, you will never come again, mark my words!” Mistress spat, as she pressed her foot against the worm’s pussy, causing her her writhe beneath me. I felt her tongue against my folds and circling my clit, her attention growing more frantic as Mistress pressed harder and harder with her foot. I could feel the vibration of her moans as she desperately tried to bring me off. Mistress held up her finger, instructing me not to come, not yet.
“You’re failing worm!” Mistress accused. “Do I have to cut it off to make my point!”
The shocked expression on my face must have registered with Mistress, who smiled and shook her head, indicating her threats were, at least for the moment, empty ones. I began to feel the telltale sensations of an unstoppable orgasm, I knew that once this wave hit me, there would be no stopping it.
As the climax built within me, I tried to imagine the scene. Three completely hairless women, two writhing on the floor and the other, majestic in her baldness, towering over the two. The image was so powerful that there was no way the burgeoning orgasm could be stopped. I literally screamed out my pleasure as the worm between my legs doubled her efforts. My screams were silenced however as my Mistress covered my gaping mouth with her own sex.
Tasting her delicious flavor, only caused another wave of pleasure to course through me, unbridled and raw. Close to the edge herself, Mistress pressed hard against my tongue as I pleased her, just as the worm between my legs was still pleasuring me. In the end, the only one not coming was the worm. She was left bereft and wanting as both Mistress and I curled into one another on the bed.
“Crawl into the corner and suck your thumb, worm.” Mistress commanded, but with a more gentle tone in her voice. The worm did as she commanded, and the spectacle was priceless. Curled into a fetal ball on the floor, the once omnificent Ms. Ashland sucked her thumb for all she was worth. “She’s actually kind of fun,” Mistress admitted, whispering in my ear.
When, at last, we emerged from the cottage, everything had changed. Mistress and I walked side by side, while the newly debased worm walked behind. Of course, appearances had to be maintained, but in the evenings, and the mornings, the cottage became a den of lesbian delights. Worm continued to amaze us with her ability to stoop to lows not even Mistress could have imagined. She was a slave to Mistress to be sure, but she also a slave to a slave, a slave to me.
The rest of the camp was oblivious to the debauchery taking place in the cottage, at least we hoped they were. To be honest, neither Mistress, nor myself would be returning to that place, so it mattered nothing to us. The worm would continue to run the camp, we were sure of that. And after all that had happened, it didn’t really surprise me that she actually followed through with the laser treatments, long after Mistress and I had left.
Yes, my avid readers, I abandoned everything in my life to become a full-time slave to my beloved Mistress. No promising future as a Dartmouth graduate, no career, and certainly no boys. All this I sacrificed, but happiness is not always about having. My greatest pleasure was giving myself completely to Natalie Burns, always my better, and forever, my Mistress.