Graduating With Honors

Graduating With Honors

 

By Shorngirl

 

         I’d done it. After four and half years of sweat and toil, I’d achieved what no one in my family had done before me. I’d graduated from college. Not only had I graduated, but I’d done so with honors.

         It was thrilling to stand before my father and brothers and receive that scroll that meant so much to me. They were thrilled for me too. It was about halfway through the ceremony that I noticed something amiss. There, sitting a row back        from my father in the audience was my mother.

         She hadn’t been a part of my life for some time, having walked away from my father and the three of us kids. In fact, it had been almost four years since I’d even seen her.

         Everything was winding down in the auditorium and I had gotten hugs from everyone when she suddenly appeared next to me. “You ready earn that damned thing?” She spat, the disdain on her face more than evident.

         “I haven’t seen you in years, Mother. Whatever do you mean, pay for it?” I sneered, trying to match her scowl.

         “Who then hell do you think paid for all this, him?” She chuckled, thumbing in my father’s direction, who had faded back to stand with my two brothers.

         “Dad?” I questioned. Reluctantly, he moved back to stand beside me, looking more like a puppy ready for a whooping, tail between his legs.

         “She’s right, honey. I tried, I really did; to keep her outta things. Everything just got so expensive.” He admitted.

         “So, she did pay for this.” I held up my degree, which she swiftly snatched from my fingers.

         “That’s right, Suzanna, to the tune of about forty thousand.” She bragged.

         “I earned that, Mother. Now, can I have it back please.” I tried to reason with her. Her response was to sink it into her oversized purse, closing it with a snap.

         “You’ll get it, alright. But there is the bargain your father struck with me in exchange for paying for your, so-called education.” My mother seemed pleased with herself.

         “Bargain? What bargain, Dad?” I fumed.

         “It was her idea, and I just couldn’t bear to tell you to drop out or anything. You’re gonna have to do it, Suzie.” He mewled.

         “Do it? Do what?” I asked, starting to sweat in my graduation gown.

         “You’re coming to live with me for a while, ‘Suzie’.” She spat my name mockingly.

         “But, I’ve got job offers; an internship that I’ve already signed up for,” I argued.

         “Sorry, Suzanne, but all that is just going to have to wait.” My mother mused. “Why, I’ve already had all your things shipped to my address, so….”

         “Then I have no choice?” I sighed, looking one last time at my father. He only shook his head as my mother took me by the arm.

         “Come along, girl, we have terms to discuss.” My mother led me along the hallway and out where a rather expensive-looking car was waiting. To my surprise, there was a driver that opened the door for her. I had no idea she was so… well off.

         Taking a seat in the back with her, I kept my distance, preferring to sit as far away as possible. “I can’t believe you’d do this to your own daughter,” I grumbled.

         You can stop with the ‘mother’ shit, girl. I’ve disowned you. You haven’t been my daughter for years, legally anyway.” She announced.

         “Fine. What do I call you then?” I asked.

         “Mrs. Kincaid, or if you’re feeling as though you want to please me, I suppose Mistress will do.” She never looked at me.

         It was when we climbed aboard a private jet that I understood just how wealthy my ‘ex-mother’ actually was. I’d been forced to ditch the graduation gown, tossing it as well as my cap in a convenient garbage can in the airport parking lot. It felt wrong, but she wasn’t going to be argued with. I suppose she’d paid for them anyway.

         Once we were in the air, she handed me a legal folder, with a three-page document inside. “Read that, and sign the bottom, like the grateful girl you know you are.” She insisted.

         The affidavit read more like a contract for indentured servitude. I would have no say about anything, and that scared me a bit. I knew my ‘mother’ to be a bitch, but she was never cruel. Perhaps things had changed.

         This was a contract for forty weeks of service, at which time, all debts would be settled, and I could return to my life. There seemed to be a clause at the end that allowed me to forfeit my freedom after said satisfaction for an undisclosed sum. I knew for a fact that this was never going to happen, so ignored it. I had a life waiting for me.

         As the plane touched down in Vegas, which is where I knew she lived, I was a bit shocked by her blatant command which she barked across the cabin. “Get your clothes off and leave them in the jet, girl.”

         I stared at her for a moment to make sure she wasn’t kidding, not that this was even in her nature. She crossed her arms over her chest and began tapping her toe. I could see a car approaching the plane, so at least whatever exposure I was about to endure would be of short duration.

         As quickly as my nervous fingers allowed, I disrobed, stopping briefly when I was down to my panties and bra. I looked up, hopefully.

         “All of it, girl.” The smirk she sported said she was obviously enjoying my discomfort. I reluctantly obliged, suddenly finding myself naked at the door to the jet, exposed to anyone on the tarmac who cared to look my way. I was thankful my long hair hung over my breasts, hiding them from view. My hands cupped my sex as I walked gingerly over the searing hot asphalt, diving past a rather amused driver and into the back seat, where Mrs. Kincaid awaited. I certainly couldn’t consider this woman as anything but a stranger. How could she do this to her own flesh and blood, disowned or not?

         “Why did you have me do that?” I asked, still hiding myself as best I could as the driver began to pull away.

         “Oh, that’s just a taste, Suzanne. You’ll soon get quite used to being naked.”

         “I can’t believe you were my mother… once,” I yelled.

         “Once, is the key word there, dearie. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll obey the staff once you’re at the estate. My new husband has very particular tastes, and after seeing a photo of you, well, he just had to have you.”

         “Doesn’t it bother you that he’s lusting after your own daughter?” I accused.

         “My dear girl. I live a life of avarice and have more money than I could spend in a hundred lifetimes. I don’t give a flying fuck what he gets up to as long as he’s happy.”

         “So, you paying for my college was just a ruse to… to what? What… I’m like his slave or something?” I pulled back into my seat, protectively.

         “Oh… you have no idea what’s coming.”

         Those were the last words spoken between us for weeks, as it turned out. After pulling into what seemed like a monstrous estate, she was quick to exit the car. I was driven around the back, where several fully clothed men were waiting. They didn’t wait for me to get out, rather, they reached in and extracted me.

         “So… you’re the boss’s new toy. My, my, what fun he’ll have with you.” The one exclaimed as he roughly pushed me through the flagstone courtyard and into what looked like a kitchen.

         Suddenly, I was surrounded by people, men, and women, all fully dressed in comparison to my utterly naked state. One of the women grabbed me by my hair and directed me out of the room and down through a series of hallways. After descending a flight of stairs, I was thrown into a small room, the door quickly locked behind me.

         I suppose one might consider it a bedroom, of sorts. There was a crude bed and a single light overhead. That was it. For lack of anything else to do, I sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated what my future held in this place. I could never have imagined. For the first time in hours, I stopped trying to conceal my nudity.

         Eventually, I fell asleep and it could have been hours before someone unlocked the door. It couldn’t have been too soon, because I really needed to pee. “I need to use the bathroom,” were the first words out of my mouth. The well-dressed man guided me into a toilet a few steps down the hall, waiting outside while I emptied my bladder.

         “Look, the boss wants to see you.” He said, “Hurry up in there.”

         As soon as I came out, I was rushed to an elevator that required a key to operate. “Can I have something to wear, please?” I begged.

         “Nah. You’ll do just as you are, I’m thinking.” He prodded, pushing me out into a lavishly decorated hall and then into a series of enormous rooms. At the end, I saw an older man, who seemed to take notice as we approached.

         “Thank you, Steven. We’ll be fine.” The man imparted, nodding to the guy who had just rushed me up there. “So… You’re Suzanne. I’ve so looked forward to meeting you.”

         “What do you want?” I whimpered, my emotions finally sliding from anger to fear.

         “Entertainment, my dear girl. And I have no doubt you’ll provide this in abundance.” He pushed up from his desk, walking around me where I stood at the center of the richly appointed office. “Yes, I have no doubt of that.” He reached out and pulled my hair away from my shoulders, my arms rising to shield my breasts. “Modesty would normally suit you well, my dear, but it is quite out of place here.”

         After examining me for what seemed like an hour, he sat back at his desk and picked up his phone. “Cecil? Yes, I need you to come up to the house this evening. Yes, that’s right, she’s finally arrived. She’ll need the full treatment, Cecil, I’m afraid. Yes, much too coy, actually.” He placed the phone back on the cradle.

         “What’s going to happen to me?” I asked.

         “Well, that would spoil things for you, I think. We need to unravel this present one ribbon at a time.” Steven was back, approaching me from behind. “The Lilac Salon, Steven. Cecil will be arriving. Do see him in.”

         I felt and hand wrap around my arm and I was once again on the move, deposited in what could only be described as an absurdly decadent bathroom. The thing was, it wasn’t only a bathroom. At the center of it stood some sort of perverted bondage apparatus.

         “You should bathe,” Steven suggested. “Quite frankly, you stink.” The door was closed behind him, and locked by the sound of it. I tested it all the same, but my assumption was correct.

         After exploring for a moment, I stepped into a walk-in shower that was akin to a floral jungle. When I turned on the water, it sprayed from all directions against my skin. After a moment, the water was warm and felt heavenly after such a crazy day.

         I had almost completely dried, my hair reverting to its usual wavy curls that happened without a brush. I hated the look, preferring it long and straight, the blonde curtain behind which I consistently hid. It had always been my security blanket. I sat, staring at the strange device, which I knew only too well, I’d be experiencing in some form or another.

         This was preposterous, I thought. I was a successful young woman with a career just waiting for her to grab. I had the world at my fingertips. Now, where was I? I shivered at the thought of what this ‘man’ would do to me, or have me do. “Jesus.” I mouthed, sotto voce. “Forty weeks?” Not so quietly.

         I hadn’t noticed, but someone had joined me in the room. “You are Suzanna?” The rotund man asked. He carried a satchel, which he set on a nearby counter.

         “Suzanne.” I corrected.

         “Oh, my apologies. Suzanne.” He smiled. “I am Cecil.” He hesitated for a moment. “The room smells lovely. You washed for me, how courteous of you.”

         “I took a shower, yes,” I admitted.

         “Are you going to be a good girl, or will we need to make use of the equipment?”

         “I suppose that depends on what you’re going to do.” He surely didn’t imagine I’d allow him to violate me.

         “Mr. Kincaid. He… He requested my services. I suppose he didn’t tell you why?” Cecil pondered.

         “Something about unwrapping a present,” I murmured.

         “Oh, that is a colorful way of putting it, I suppose.” The man grinned. “I’m a hairstylist, by trade, but…”

         “So, he… Mr. Kincaid, wants me to have my hair cut?” I supposed, nervously running my fingers through my still-damp locks. I thought about it and figured it probably wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. “I think I can be a good girl.”

         “Then you can have a seat by the mirror, please.” He directed me to a large vanity with a ring of lights encircling the mirror. It reminded more of a dressing room than a vanity, to be fair.

         Cecil never bothered with a cape, and it concerned me that the only item he removed from his satchel was a small set of cordless clippers. He noticed me eyeing the machine and smiled.

         “Perhaps we will need the apparatus, after all, Suzanne.” He suggested.

         “Those are clippers. I’ve never had my hair cut with clippers…ever.” I warned.

         “For what Mr. Kincaid is requesting, they are all I will need.” He examined me for a moment. “I think we better move to the center of the room instead.”

         He lightly coaxed me out of the padded chair and over to the device that looked more like an elaborate version of the stocks I’d seen in old movies. I felt strange as I laid back on the leather upholstered bench, inserting my neck and wrists into the half holes, which soon encircled them entirely, making escape impossible. I was on my back, at Cecil’s insistence, so I was left looking at the ceiling.

         He pulled my hair through the limited space between the wooden stock and my neck, so it fell nearly to the floor, I was sure. “Such beautiful hair. It’s almost a shame. Almost,” I heard him chuckle.”

         I could feel him fasten a band around my hair, pulling it tight and then snapping it securely, the tension tugging at my scalp uncomfortably. “Ouch.”

         “Sorry, but at least it is a pain you will not know for some time, Suzanne.” He reminded me as I heard the clippers come to life, their high-pitched whine saying something for their inevitable efficiency. “We will start below.”

         As the vibration touched my skin, I realized that he was nowhere near my head. I cringed as I felt the blades slip into my pubic hair, grazing my hooded clitoris with what seemed like a certain degree of skill. Had he done this before? I was prevented from seeing his actions, but as he worked, I knew he was leaving nothing behind. He pushed my legs open, so they fell over the edge of the bench, exposing me completely.

         I groaned audibly as I felt him manipulate my labia, half out of embarrassment and half out of a strange arousal that seemed to be creeping over me. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help but respond to his attentions.

         Not being able to see the portly old man was a blessing, I supposed, but it did prevent me from seeing what he planned next. Something warm, almost hot was being spread over me down there. By the time he laid the cloth strip over me, I suddenly realized what he was about to do.

         “No, wait!” I yelled. “This is going to hurt, right?”

         “Oh, yes, Suzanne. It will hurt, but it’s quick.” And with that, he pulled the strip away, and I swore he had torn the skin away from my delicate folds. I couldn’t help but scream. He did this four or five more times, perhaps more. I think I lost count, as I was floating somewhere else in the room. I read about endorphins and their effect on the body. This must be what was happening to me.

         I came around as he rubbed some sort of cream over my mons and lips. It soothed, but after a few minutes, I realized it numbed as well. For that I was grateful. Of course, my slight delirium was short-lived as he moved his attentions to my side of the stocks.

         “Are you going to shave my head?” I asked, in a nonchalant tone, as though I accepted his answer before he gave it.

         “Yes, Suzanne; I am.” He sighed. “As I said, it is a shame to take something from you that you that is so healthy, and so long. The strange arousal buzzed through me, despite the numbing cream, and I simply nodded.

         “I love my hair.” I sighed. “It’s a part of me.”

         “Yes, I might even say, it’s a large part of who you are. It’s a part of your identity.” He said, calmly. “You have taken great care, and it is in wonderful condition.”

         “Thank you.” I managed. After having said it, I was annoyed for showing this man any sort of gratitude. He was about to take my hair from me, after all.

         “This part won’t hurt at all. In fact, some women have said it is quite pleasurable.” Cecil assured me.

         ‘Some women?’ I questioned, silently. So, he had done this before. I wondered if he got off on it, shaving women; taking their hair, their pride and joy.

         I heard the whine of the clippers again, only louder as they passed by my ear. He made no announcement; nothing to prepare me. I simply felt the vibration against my forehead before the blades crept over my scalp from front to back. One strip after another, he shaved me, until I could feel the cool air of the room against my naked crown.

         He carefully carved out my ears, the sides of my head exposed, until all that remained attached was a strip that ran from my nape to my crown. The weight of it all had transferred to the back of my head, and I imagined the scene as my severed hair hung precipitously by the tie that bound it.

         Cecil had been right. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. The warm caress of the clipper’s blades sent shivers up and down my spine, as he pressed them insistently into my skull’s supple covering. His breath against its smooth surface gave some truth to the idea that I was well and truly bald. The arousal had returned.

         This man was removing all that I held most dear to me; my beauty, my security, my pride, however misplaced that may be. Yet, I was feeling so aroused that I knew my folds were moist, even though I felt nothing down there.

         I felt the pressure point grow smaller and smaller as he slowly peeled the back of my scalp of its covering. Smaller and smaller, until I thought the remaining hair might rip out of its own accord. There was a soft thump as the precious bundle hit the tiled floor of the salon. It was over, or so I thought.

         Cecil knew where I was, and how I was feeling. I could sense his amusement as he observed my dilemma. I was both ashamed and excited, humiliated but wildly aroused. He knew it, and that in itself was degrading.

         He ran his hands over my newly exposed skin, tempting my emotions. “Mr. Kincaid has instructed me to apply this.”

         Upsidedown, I looked back, seeing a small bottle of liquid in his hands. He had donned a pair of surgical gloves and dispensed a liberal amount into his protected palm. This was different than the lotion he had applied to my sex. Its odor was pungent, and it tingled warmly against my scalp as he rubbed it in. “What are you doing?”

         “It’s very new. Something that will make your upkeep a bit simpler.” Cecil mused as he poured the remainder of the bottle over my shorn head.

         Deep inside I knew what it was, but I tried not to imagine it. My scalp felt hot and cold at the same time, and not just at the surface. Whatever this liquid was it seemed to penetrate until it felt like it was lathing my skull of its covering.

         It wasn’t painful, but knowing what was happening carried with it its own imagined pain. Several minutes later Cecil released me from the stocks, encouraging me to rinse off the foul liquid in the shower.

         He watched, of course, but as my fingertips caressed my slippery scalp for the first time, I knew that the arousal had been very real indeed. Were it not for the prying eyes of the barber, I would certainly have attempted to come. One quick swipe of my fingers through my hairless folds was enough to confirm I was still quite numb, and that my efforts would have been wasted.

         When I finally emerged from the shower, any and all evidence of the man had vanished, including my severed tresses. Standing in the full-length mirror, I took in my appearance for the first time. The hairless being in the mirror looked more alien than human. Managing a ridiculous giggle, all my modesty and pride had been cleanly swept away.

I was unable to keep my hands away from my head, so I stopped trying. I wondered if all I could ever do with my hands was to luxuriate in its tactile gloss. The more I played with it, the more excited I became.

         It almost seemed like my slick hairless bulb was directly connected to my clitoris, and I began to think I might come without ever touching between my legs. I never had time to find out, at least just then.

         Steven was back, and by his amused snicker, I knew how he felt about my new look. He tossed me a gown, which was little more than a thin cotton shift. Anything to cover my nakedness was appreciated, so I thanked him. Now that there was literally nothing to hide behind, the translucent material was more than ample covering.

         Instead of the small room in the basement, I was led to a rather nicely decorated room on the same floor. Steven stood in the doorway, looking at me. “Shame, the Master’s tastes. You were a stunner.” His words stung, knowing that my sheering had rendered me unappealing, perhaps even ugly. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay here. Your supper is under the warmer by the window.” He pointed across the room to a bay alcove. “He left you a note.”

 

Suzanne,

I hope your experience was not too unpleasant. Cecil is a good man, and he does his best to accommodate my needs. As far as your hair, it will not be growing back, as you may have surmised. The formula is extremely expensive to make, so I hope you appreciate your newfound baldness. Unfortunately, he could not use it on your cunt, as there are unwanted side effects. We tried it once, and the poor girl went mad. As amusing as it was to see her in this incessant orgasmic stupor, it became tiresome, so we had her committed.

Let’s hope that doesn’t happen to you, having only used it on your scalp. It has the effect of tripling the density of nerve endings where applied. This will, unfortunately, prevent you from ever being able to tolerate wearing a wig. I will be having guests tomorrow night, and I will expect you to be accommodating. In the meantime, do try to keep masturbation to a minimum, as hard as I know that is going to be for you. Enjoy your meal.

Mr. K.

 

         I lifted the silver cover and was pleased to see I would not be going hungry. The note lay open on the table, as I ate, the last sentence ringing over and over in my head. My appetite satiated, I stripped myself and laid back on the bed, rubbing my scalp furiously. I knew, on that score at least, he would be thoroughly disappointed.

For a moment, I thought back on the proud and promising graduate student I was only a day before. The image was fleeting, however, usurped by this force that had overtaken me. “I’m bald now.” I sighed, the idea not the least bit disturbing. How silly to have had such lofty ambitions. I felt my scalp slip back and forth over my skull as my fingers pressed hard against it, the burgeoning nerves multiplying beneath its glassy surface.

         Several orgasms later, I lay spent and sweaty on the bed, my hand still caressing my baldness as if to temper the afterglow. I should have been furious. I should have been devastated, but for some reason, I was neither.

         “Bald.” The word slipped over my tongue like warm butter. “Bald, forever.” I sighed, as my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep.