Are You Brave?

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“Are You Brave?”

I’ll admit, I wasn’t in the best place mentally when I signed myself up for this.

I’d recently lost my boyfriend, who left me for some blonde chick he’d met god knows where… but a part of me was enjoying the freedom from him. Especially the sexual awakening I’d found in his absence.

He’d been a fair, if rote, even occasionally boring, lover … but I’d quickly found that many on the club scene were far more adventurous and far less gentle.

I often went out in little more than chromatic shorts that were barely more than underwear, and skimpy crop tops that were little more than bras. Combined with twin braids of my cherry red hair, I easily caught attention, despite my pale complexation and small tits.

I am a natural redhead regardless, but I dye it a brighter shade to take out some of the ginger and add more vibrancy. There is a bit if an issue with being ginger, in that being that most of the attention you get is either from guys who also believe in Dragons, or guys who are REALLY into redheads.

As it so happened, this latter sort were just what I was after at the moment, they were never hard to find, and when the goal is mindless sex, leaving with the first half-functional looking man to come my way often meant leaving within the hour.

It was through these exploits that I found how much I enjoyed being dominated. Having my hair pulled or messed up, wrapped around a dick and covered in cum. How much I liked being choked, or the feel of a thumb pressing slowly into my ass.

I kept wanting more, to go further and harder. Eventually the random one-nighters didn’t stack up to the porn I was putting myself to bed with every work-night.

I considered trying out as a model, flying to California, or wherever these were filmed, to let some beautiful smooth chested block of abs stick me like a hog.

Unfortunately, I’m Scottish, so that was maybe quite a long way to go. Curiosity overwhelmed me though, and I went looking to see if there was an equivalent to HardTied hiding in some inconspicuous corner of Falkirk.

What I found, was this:

FuckForce!
Lasses! Your ultimate sexual fantasy is just a few clicks away!
Send us a request, and we’ll work with you to design and fulfil your dirtiest desires, there are no limits here.

What followed was a pretty open-ended form where you could explain what you wanted to do, or to be done to you. Followed by an explanation of their payment systems and a lengthy disclaimer.

Part of me thought that this was all just bullshit, but the fantasist in me enjoyed filling the form out regardless.

Hi – I want to be snatched off the streets on my way home from work, stripped naked and taken somewhere remote. I want to be tied up, fucked and abused until I look like the dirty whore I am.

I hovered over the send button, one hand on my phone, one hand on my soggy panties. Then sent it on its way, expecting to hear nothing else of it as I worked myself into orgasm with dreams of what might be.

It was the very next day, on my break at work, that I noticed the email back.

We can do that, tonight. Reply here with your place of work, a photograph, and a name you will answer to. Please also see the attached disclaimer, which requires your consent. See you soon.

I think my eyes nearly fell out as my jaw hit the floor. I was glad to be the only one in the breakroom at the time, because I was certain I went flushed and began breathing heavily just reading it.

Forcing myself under control, I sent back details of my place of work, the time I’d finish that evening, two of the roads I tended to walk when going to the bus stop and … should I use my real name? … no … I’ll be, erm … Brave. Fitting maybe, for a few reasons.

I shook out my hair as I posed for a selfie, it was kinda a frizzy mess today, my curls not behaving all so much. I’d have done more with it if I knew… I tugged down the collar of my blouse as I snapped a picture, attaching my smiling face, surrounded by red hair and a plunging neckline that mostly just revealed my lack of any real bust.

The disclaimer was long, I skimmed it. Some legal waivers, I couldn’t call the police or sue, everything was assumed to be consensual, a long list of things they might do to me … which I skipped over after point 3 (cum shots over any part of your body) as I didn’t want to spoil myself too much on what was to come. I scrolled past the blur of text and ticked my consent. Then sent the whole thing off.

I was pretty much useless for the rest of the day, but had worked there long enough to look busy while actually doing pretty much nothing. It took all my willpower to avoid running to the bathroom and masturbating in a stall, but I didn’t want to spoil dinner with sweets.

When it came time to clock off, I dawdled a little to let everyone else get ahead of me, last thing I wanted was to get caught in a gaggle of co-workers on the way to the bus. By the time I pulled my heavy coat on, everyone else had plenty of lead on me. I made sure to keep my hair over my collar, it was my most instantly recognizable feature, and I didn’t want my date(s?) to just drive right on by me.

This was a concern that was not much warranted. I was barely 20 meters down the road when an unmarked van pulled alongside me, any other night I would run, tonight, I stopped.

The van slid open, revealing at least three masked men. “Are you Brave?” asked the closest.

Last chance, I thought. “Yes, that’s me.” I said, already putting on my innocent, submissive voice.

They didn’t need any more consent.

I was dragged off the street and the van screeched away into the evening. It had all taken maybe 5 seconds.

Inside I found the floor was padded, slightly. It reminded me of the old gym matts they’d lay out at school. I was pinned down to that matt immediately as they started stripping me, first my coat, then yanking at my boots.

“No!” I yelled “Please don’t! Stop it!” – I knew they wouldn’t, but it was part of the game, part of my fantasy. I loved getting into character.

I couldn’t see much of what they were doing as I struggled to keep my legs together – if they wanted to strip me naked, I’d make them work for it – but I did see them tossing each article of clothing they did get into a big black bag.

“Arraah!” I yelled and squealed as they flipped me over, pulling my arms high and yanking at my jeans, which started to give way over my hips regardless of how tightly I squeezed my thighs. “NOoo!” I moaned as I saw a cock spring into view above my head, its owner furiously jacking it, aiming for my face.

I bucked my hips uselessly as my jeans were dragged past my knees, my panties following close behind, their delicate cotton tearing as they were forced down.

I felt my hands being secured in rough bindings, and found I couldn’t lift them from whatever they were tied too, my arms stretched uselessly above me as another man began to simply cut away my shirt with a stout knife.

“Please” I begged again. “Just let me go, don’t do this, don’t rape me I -”

Hot cum splashed over my cheek and into my pleading mouth. I almost came right there. Twisting my body and groaning as I tasted this strangers seed.

“Be Brave.” One of the men said, “You’ve got a lot more to do before we’re finished, you dirty ginger slut.”

The last of my clothes were bundled into the black bag, which was then unceremoniously tossed out of the van onto an anonymous stretch of some unknown B road.

Two of the men sat down. The third started taking photos of, me naked and cum stained on the floor. I put on my best sad & pathetic face, while eagerly waiting to arrive at our destination.

Time passed, I’m not sure how much.

The rest of the journey was punctuated only by the occasional pothole, bouncing me against the floor.

When we stopped, it was pitch dark. I was unfastened from my shackles in the van, and dragged outside. Now, I decided, was time for more acting.

“Aregh! No! Get off me!” I struggled, uselessly, against the big men. Who restrained me easily enough that they could still cop a feel of my little tits and pert ass at their leisure. After dragging my bare feet though the dirt for a couple of meters as I scrambled for grip, they instead simply lifted me off the floor and let my legs dangle and kick at them to no effect.

We were approaching a large house, alone in the countryside. It had a few external lights, but I noticed no particularly distinguishing features beyond the vague period of the architecture – old, like most of the places out here.

We veered away from that old house though, they carried my around the back, away from the road and towards open woodland. I barely noticed the “set” until we arrived. I was tossed down into loose dirt, immediately feeling little rocks and loose twigs bite into my calves. Four mobile floodlights were powered on, filling my little square with amber light, blinding me further to anything beyond that small space.

“Please … don’t …” I squinted around, there were more men here now, I couldn’t tell how many. “I don’t … please don’t rape me” I begged … “I – I’m Catholic…” I lied “A virgin, I’m saving myself for…”

Someone grabbed my throat from behind and pounded my head down into the dirt. I was dazed by the violence of it, but my pussy responded with glee. I could probably take two of these guys in me at once.

A thick leather collar was fastened around my throat, and a chain clasped to that was then locked to some unseen thing beyond the edge of the light.

“Can’t we just talk about …” I began before a yank on the chain caught the words in my throat.

“Arrogant this one, eh?” said someone.

“Yeah, real talkative” growled someone else.

“Pretty though” said another.

“Bit skinny for my liking” said one that might have been one of the first two.

“Yeah, she has teenager tits.” Quipped one.

“Sexy hair though.” Stated another, as he came forward, naked into the light and grabbed a handful of my mane in each hand, pulling my face against his rigid cock.

I resisted a little, keeping my mouth shut as his fat dick bounced off my face. Then relented and opened up to take him.

“This’ll stop her mewling! The daft whore!” laughed the cock-owner, rousing cheers from the innumerable crowd.

He came quickly, spilling into my throat and over my chin.

Then came more.

They fingered me violently, with no regard for my comfort as they made sure I was wet for their dicks. I was tossed from one position to another as they took their turns in me. Dirt crusted my legs and forearms, twigs poked at my tits as I was slammed down doggy style. The first few came inside me, I hadn’t even thought about birth control until a few of them joked about breeding me.

More chose their favourite spot to cover me in their cum, my chest, my ass, my face, my hair.

It was maybe the seventh guy who proudly proclaimed.

“I’m taking her ass, as is my right as host!”

This was worth more begging. “My ass?” I feigned naivety “You don’t mean … no! Please sir don’t! Don’t fuck my ass! I don’t want – I’ve never done …” this was a part truth, I had never had a dick in my asshole before, but I was quivering with anticipation of my first.

He pushed my face into the dirt, pulling my hips high until they were practically above my head. I felt slick viscous stuff pouring over my anus, sliding over my pussy, dribbling over my asscheeks and down my back, lube, lots of lube.

He didn’t go easy after that. I’d felt fingers and thumbs, my own and others, stretch and press and penetrate the shallows of my ass before – none of it prepared me for him.

His cock felt as thick as my arm as he ploughed his full length into me with one firm thrust. The scream was real this time, and when I begged him to slow down, to wait, to just wait a moment, that was all real too.

He didn’t wait for me to get used to him, he didn’t stop. My ass screamed as he pounded full force into me. I cried into the dirt, pleading with the ground.

“No … nooo … please … not like this … my ass … it hurts … oh god please …” I sobbed. The earth did not respond.

When he came, deep in my bowels, I felt like he’d filled me with half a pint of hot cum. It bubbled up and spilled out of me as he pulled out his monstrous cock, and I fell onto my side, curling into myself on the floor and tenderly holding my ass – as if I could somehow put back together what he had just blown apart.

A ring of feet surrounded me, men grunting and sighing as they either fired yet more cum over my prone body, or released their bladders onto me. Piss was a new one too, it felt gross, and hot, and disgusting, and erotic … it was washing off some cum at least.

Then the soil below started turning to slick mud, staining my skin, and more than one guy had the bright idea to aim for my hair, which lapped up their piss like a thick ginger towel.

I was filthy, piss-soaked mud squelching under me. Cum and lube drying on my naked, exposed body. My pussy felt raw, my ass felt like it might never stop screaming protest. Yet, I felt a deep satisfaction unlike anything before, like my first ever orgasm, like scratching an itch I didn’t know I had, like this was exactly where I should be and everything I needed.

My breath shuddered as I relaxed into the ground, smiling.

“Well would you look at that,” said someone. “I think she liked it.”

“Bloody hell, we got a real freak here lads” followed another.

“Well then, I guess we’re not done,” said a third. “tied up, fucked and abused until I look like the dirty whore I am,” he quoted my own request back at the group.

“Dirty whores don’t smile about being whores, “said someone “she ain’t proper broke yet.”

“Yeah, I have an idea though,” said the man who might have fucked my arse raw “tie her up.”

My wrists and ankles were bound, then I was yanked up onto my knees, my head bowed under the weight of my dirty, sodden hair.

Someone gripped my hair at the scalp and yanked my chin up, then waved a set of heavy scissors in front of my face.

“You have such pretty hair lassy, I bet it makes you vain. I’m going to take it all from you.”

I realised too late what he was about to do, when the first shriek of steel lopped off a damp lock of my hair. I didn’t expect it, and I definitely didn’t want it. I broke down.

“NO! Don’t cut my hair! Stop! This wasn’t part of the deal!” He didn’t stop. “Stop! Stop cutting!” I cried, I begged. He did not stop.

He pulled and tugged and yanked my head one way or the other, each time stealing off a fistful of my long red hair and casting it into the mud.

It felt like forever, and no time at all, before he pushed me to the ground, my head looking like a doll who’d fallen victim to a toddler with scissors.

But he didn’t stop there. The sound of clippers roaring to life in his hand made me try to crawl away. Slipping in the mud, I didn’t get far before half a dozen hands pressed me flat into the dirt.

“Nooo! I want to stop, please don’t shave my head! This is too far! I don’t want to he bald! Please!!” my cries went unanswered; I may as well have been a squealing pig for all the good my words did.

Someone grabbed me by the throat and forced my chin up, then the clippers began their terrible work. I felt like some sick joke when he buzzed the top of my scalp, something between a clown and a balding man. When he began taking the rest, I could barely cry anymore. I just lay there, spaced out as the last of my hair fell in wet clumps to the filthy ground. My body slick with mud, my breath cracking and shallow as I struggled for air against the vice-grip on my throat.

When they finally let me go, I could barely move. Someone rolled me over and pulled my legs wide, they began to fuck me, it barely registered. My buzzed scalp bounced and scraped on the ground, occasionally some of my severed hair would stick to me, only to fall off again.

A familiar snap and flash, a camera immortalised my humiliation. I was pretty sure it had been going off frequently this whole time… what would they do with me now? Would they let me go? Sell me on to another group? Kill me?

The man who was raping me came deep in my pussy, he must have been the 9th or maybe 10th to do so that night.

One of the dragged me up onto my knees, he slapped my face a few times while staring at my eyes, I barely made eye contact.

When they applied shaving cream to my head, I found a few more tears, but no more defiance. As slowly they scraped off the last of my favourite feature. The curly office red-head no more, I was a bald sex slave now … When he was done with my scalp, he grabbed my face and twisted me about as he shaved my eyebrows too, I was surprised by that, but I’d fallen too far to care for their loss. What more difference could it make?

Finally he stood back, and spoke.

“What is your name girl?”

“I – I’m Ca… I’m Brave. My name is Brave.”

“Brave?” he laughed, others joined him. “Never seen a brave cry as much as you, piglet… so here’s what happens next.”

My ears perked up. I bet they looked weird and large now.

“You have two options, you go home, or you stay here.”

“I want to -” I began, then he cut me off.
“Ah! Not so quick piglet. If you want to stay you don’t need to do anything else. We’ll take you in that nice house there, run you a hot bath, get you a good meal. You’ll live comfortable, and we’ll fuck you like this every Friday. Or … you masturbate for us, right now, if you make yourself cum, we’ll take you home. Don’t try to fake it, we’ve seen that too often to be fooled.”

His speech raised a lot of questions I’d reflect on later … but for now I only saw one option. I bit my lip and started gently touching myself. I felt raw from everything they’d done to me, but I was determined I could find an orgasm. So much of this had been what I’d fantasised about for months, even if it had gone further than I’d ever expected, much of it had, did, deeply arouse me.

The jeering began immediately. Some whoops from the crowd, others trying to put me off.

“Look at yourself, filthy bald whore!”
“No tits, and now no hair! What a freak!”
“My fuckin son is prettier than she is now!”
“Gonna cry for us again baldy?”

Little did they know it was actually helping. I was filthy, I was bald, I did feel like a whore. In may ways, I got exactly what I wanted. More than just playing at the fantasy of being… this… I had become it.

My fingers played in the soft hair of my cunt, the only hair I had left. My hand reached up, timid, to touch my bald scalp for the first time – my palm felt electric when it met the smooth skin there, feeling for traces of hair and finding none. I touched my filth encrusted little tits, wiped my thumb over my bald eyebrows, and hooked my fingers into my pussy, a mix of stale cum slowly oozing out of me as I did.

My orgasm came faster, and harder, than I expected. Leaving my again panting on my side in the dirt.

“Well, that’s a shame,” came the voice again “she’s a real freak, but the deal is absolute. Put her in the van.”

I don’t remember most of the trip back. I do remember arriving, exactly where they had first picked me up. They shoved my back onto that same pavement, but now naked, hairless, filthy. As a last joke, they shoved a wet mound of what had been my hair into my arms, then drove off.

The sun was rising. A car went by without so much as slowing. I let my hair fall to the floor, and began the long walk home.

I was surprised nobody stopped me. It took nearly an hour to get home. It was a Saturday morning, near dawn, so it was quiet out at least … but that also meant I stood out more to the few people I did see.

A jogger who stopped across the street and took his phone out, photos to his friends, a video on pornhub, who knows.

An older lady, walking a dog, who tutted as she went by.

Cars that slowed down as they neared me, then sped off.

A police community support officer who must have seen me from a half-mile away, but cut off down a different street before he reached me. I guess dealing with a filthy naked bald woman on the streets at 6am isn’t worth the paperwork.

When I got home, I almost fell into the bathtub. I put the shower on, I ran the taps, I let it fill and drain and fill over me for hours.

It was midday before I properly looked at myself in the mirror. My body was covered in tiny cuts and bruises, hard pebbles and piercing twigs. My throat was bruised, as was my ass. My asshole, despite previously feeling like it had been blown apart, looked fine actually. A little red.

My head! I was bald, so so bald. My fair eyelashes weren’t helping, but I didn’t dare even try wearing mascara, thinking drawing attention to what little hair I had would only further highlight what I didn’t.

I felt my head, the shape of my skull under pale skin. I noticed I was raising eyebrows I didn’t have as I did so, I looked alien … and kinda badass. The eyebrows I longed to have back, I could draw some on at least… but maybe I could get used to being bald, or maybe just keeping a short buzz for a while. The response from my pussy all but confirmed I’d be doing just that.

I wasn’t productive that weekend. Spending most of it in my sweatpants, either masturbating about what had happened to me, or writing it down so I wouldn’t forget.

On Sunday I took my first bald selfie for Insta, although I had drawn on some brows. Within a few hours it was my most liked picture by a wide margin. Maybe there was something to this look.

On Monday morning, a manila envelope came though my front door. It had photos of me, in the van, in the dirt, half bald, masturbating and … and photos of other girls … and a small 1TB Flash Drive.

I immediately called in sick to work for the full week.

2 responses to “Are You Brave?

  1. Well, that was a bit of fun. Brave got exactly what she asked for, and I think had she read the fine print, she would not have been so shocked by the shearing. In the end, I think she was more than happy with her new look, and what she had become. Well written, and interestingly conceived. Still puzzling over the end, though, making me wonder if a sequel is forthcoming.
    Claire

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