Leah Lets Go

Leah Lets Go

 

By Shorngirl

Chapter One

         I stared at her and the look on my face must have given away more than I realized. “What did you expect Angela?” I sneered. “I catch you with your ex, not once but twice. I can’t think of any reason for me to stay.”

         “Well, I think you’re blowing this whole thing way out of proportion.” She said over her shoulder as she applied some mascara. She was meticulous about her looks, something that I never was. “Can’t you just let it go?”

         “Not this time, Ange. I’m already packed.” I revealed.

         “And, where do you think you’re going to go, anyway? It’s not like you have a plethora of friends to impose upon.” She spat, disdainfully.

         “I’ll be gone by the time you get home.” I insisted. Walking away, I was tired of arguing. It was over, and that was that. I retreated to my bedroom, staring at the three boxes and two suitcases I had hurriedly thrown together that morning.

         Staring at myself in the mirror, I ran a hand through what everyone swore was my best feature. I’d always taken care of my hair and it had grown long over the three years I had been with Angela. She always warned me not to cut it. I almost felt like taking a pair of scissors to it right then and there, just to spite her.

         “Who would you be punishing, Leah, Angela, or yourself?” I muttered under my breath as I heard her heels clack across the hardwood floor.

         “You really are a fool, Leah. You and that insatiable sex drive of yours, why, you’ll be lost without me, and you know it.” Angela scolded, as she leaned against the door jamb.

         “Please, just leave me alone.” I sighed.

         She looked me up and down and shook her head. “You’ll never do better, you know.” I looked up to respond but she had already walked away. A few moments later I heard the door slam, the screen creaking closed a few seconds later.

         Two weeks had passed since I walked out on Angela. An old friend, Morris, had put me up after all my female friends had turned me away. Each had a valid excuse, mind you, but I couldn’t help but feel as though I was being shunned for leaving my cheating girlfriend.

         Morris, or Mory as I once called him, was a friend from high school, and seemed more than eager to have me stay. He was a bit of nerd, having done well in the tech industry. Even so, he wasn’t ugly or anything, I’d just never given much thought to exploiting what was once a part of me. Before I became what I thought was a devout lesbian, I’d dabbled with the idea that I was bi.

         Girls still held the lion’s share of my interest, but I couldn’t deny, especially lately, a creeping interest in what the opposite sex had to offer. Mory wasn’t shy around me, and I’d catch him as he walked by me in the morning, just a towel wrapped around his waist. I’d never afforded him anything like the openness he seemed to enjoy sharing. In fact, I was shy about him seeing me without being fully dressed.

I settled down in front of my notebook and readied myself for the day. Ever since the pandemic, I’d been working from home. I almost turned down the offer as most people returned to the office, but the convenience of never having to deal with the people there, was too much to say no to.

I worked in customer service for a large software firm, and most of what I dealt with was repetitive. It paid well enough for me to call it a living, but I could never afford an apartment on my own.

Mory lived in a large house on the outskirts of Seattle, so having me there was too easy, I supposed. He had three bedrooms that were empty and had given me the pick of them. I chose the one with a view over a wooded hillside, which made him smile. “If mine didn’t come with an ensuite, this one would have been my choice too.” He mused. “Make yourself at home.”

He never really asked me for anything like rent, or even to chip in on the groceries, even though I insisted on buying. I think he’d always secretly admired me, but that felt weird to think about, so I tried not to.

I was having a rather quiet day, so I slipped down to the kitchen to grab a snack around 11am. As I opened the trash drawer to deposit my empty yogurt container, I happened to see a small, folded image poking out of the garbage. I gingerly plucked out and spread it open on the counter. What I saw was a bit of a shock. It seemed that Mory had a kinky side.

The image was of a slender woman with a myriad of tattoos covering her naked body. This was interesting enough, but what really caught my eye was the fact that she was utterly bald. Hairless; no pubes, no hair and no eyebrows.

What was even more disturbing than the image, was the throbbing I felt between my legs. Why on earth did something as bizarre as this picture, excite me so. I went to deposit the image back in the trash, but something made me hang onto it. Heading back to my room, I stealthily slipped it into my desk drawer under a few folders.

As the day went on, I couldn’t resist the temptation to pull out the lewd photo and stare. Each time, I felt the intimidating arousal blossom in my loins. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I whispered, as I answered a service request, hiding away the image safely.

Over the next few days, I found it difficult to face Mory, knowing what I knew about his fetish. We would often eat supper together, and he finally said something about my standoffish behavior.

“Is everything alright, Leah?” He asked, setting down the glass of Cabernet he had just poured. For some reason, the question set my nerves on edge, almost feeling obliged to tell him exactly what was on my mind. “You’ve ben awfully quiet the last few days. Is it work?” He asked.

“No, it’s not work.” I answered. Almost instinctively, I ran my fingers through my hair, before throwing it over my shoulder. “I’m fine. Maybe a little out of sorts.” I tried to look him in the eye, but I just couldn’t manage it.

“Maybe it has something to do with this.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the picture, the very one.

How on earth could he have known about it? I tried not to look but there was no doubt it was one and the same, the corners slightly dogeared from my frequent perusals. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“You left it on your desk, Leah.” He pointed out. “I only happened to see it as I walked by your room. Of course, I recognized it at once.”

I needed to run. I wanted to stand up and run out of the house, I was so embarrassed. Lost for words, I did stand, but as I turned to leave the kitchen, he stopped me. He hadn’t grabbed me physically, but his words stopped me in my tracks.

“I left this for you to find, Leah.” He chuckled. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“I only… It was just sitting in there. Why?” I asked.

“Because I wanted to know if you were as kinky as I am.” He mused, spinning the image of the hairless girl so that it faced me. “Judging by the state of it, I’d say I hit the nail on the head.”

I wanted to turn and look away, but that damned picture just drew me in as it had for days. If he knew how many times I’d masturbated while looking at it, he’d have laughed his ass off. I knew my face must have been red a beet, but I managed to find the courage to sit back down to my meal. “I’m not going to lie, Mory.” I managed after a long swallow of wine ran down my throat.

“Let’s finish our supper. We can talk about this another time.” He offered, and then casually began talking about how things were going at his office. My head was rushing with humiliation, but at the same time, my pussy betrayed me. Somehow, Mory knowing about my interest in that image made me hotter than ham on a grill.

When we finished eating and cleared the table, he was sure to hand me the frayed picture. “I have more if you’re interested.” The heat boiled up in me and I almost said, ‘yes please’, but restrained my enthusiasm. In fact, I said nothing as I almost ran up the stairs, quickly putting the picture away. Had I really left it out? I suppose it was possible.

Nothing more was said on the subject for a few days, and I began to wonder if he had simply accepted the fact that I was a pervert and moved on. Of course, that was when I found his note under those folders where I kept “it”.

“In the basement, there’s a storage room at one end. I normally keep it locked, but I’ve left it open just for you. I know your curiosity will get the better of you.”

         I had twenty minutes before I had to log in, so I quickly checked to see that Mory had left for work. Poking my head into the garage, his Mercedes was indeed missing.

         I quickly walked, well, ran to the basement stairs and descended into the darkness. At the base of the steps, I ran my hand along the wall until I found the light switch. Several canned lights illuminated the space and as promised, the door to the storage room was ajar.

         Slowly, but deliberately, I walked to the door and opened it. I have to admit to feeling a bit like Anastasia Steel as I took in the lavish and well-equipped dungeon laid out before me. There were the restraints and the floggers and such, but what actually caught my eye was the barber chair at the very center of the room.

         It was old, with lots of chrome and red leather, the metal frame carved and filigreed as only the artisans of the past could manage. As much as the other things in the room intrigued and frightened me, I just couldn’t resist slipping into that chair. The leather was cool against my back where my shirt had lifted, and the chrome hand rests were cold and smooth as glass.

         “You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about this.” It was whispered, but unmistakably real.

         I startled, but as I tried to jump out of the chair, two strong hands caught me and pulled me back, preventing my escape. “Mory, this all very interesting but I really need to…”

         “Leave? No, I wouldn’t hear of it. Not before we take care of that overgrown mane of yours.” He walked to the front of the chair and looked down at me.

         The fear must have written all over my face. “You’re not cutting my hair.” I managed. “Besides, I’ll be late logging in. I can’t lose my job, Mory.”

         “I could just say I don’t care, but that would be a lie. And, do call me Morris, I really hate the old name.” He stepped back, allowing me to stand. “I think the temptation will get the better of you, Leah. When you are ready, I will be too.” He smiled, gesturing toward the door. As I began to leave, he followed me with an assurance. “Besides, I have no intention of ‘cutting’ your hair.”

         I ran back to my room, a mixture of fear, anticipation and almost debilitating arousal flooding through me. I closed the door and fell into my chair, breathless. I glanced at my watch and realized that I was a few minutes late logging in for the day.

         Thankfully, being a Friday, it was busy, which kept my thoughts out of where they wanted to wander. I couldn’t believe ‘Morris’ had cornered me like that. ‘What was next?’, I wondered. Would I have to succumb to what seemed to be infiltrating my psyche? I knew that answer but tried desperately to put it out of my mind.

         Knowing Morris was gone for certain; I couldn’t resist heading back into the basement to reaffirm what I had seen down there during my break. My heart sunk when I saw that the door to the dungeon was closed; but was it locked? The cement floor was cold on my bare feet as I walked the length of the basement to check the door. To my surprise, and delight, the door was closed but unlocked.

Chapter Two

         Stepping into the space I shivered, remembering my encounter with Morris that morning. In sharp contrast to the rest of the basement, the room was warm, and a thick red shag covered the floor, working between my toes.

         Examining several of the implements that hung from the walls, my attention was once again drawn to the barber chair. This time however, a folded page lay across the seat, a pair of scissors weighing it down. Was this another image meant to entice me? Moving the scissors aside I picked up the page, only to find a simple note.

I’ve always admired bangs, Leah. Why don’t you give them a try.

 

         My heart skipped a beat as I looked down at the scissors that lay slightly open on the red leather seat. I’d been scolded by my mother never to cut my own bangs after I had hacked them to bits as a child. Now, there I was, contemplating doing the same thing again. At the same time, my pussy was streaming; the idea of doing something so reckless overtaking me.

         I dropped the note, picking up the scissors instead and examined them. They weren’t cheap, and were undoubtedly sharp. I caught my reflection in one of the mirrors that garnished the walls. The scissors still in hand, I moved closer to one, folding my long blonde hair to mimic bangs of a sort. It made me look younger, almost juvenile and I allowed the hair to fall around my face again.

         “This is silly. What are you doing?” I mouthed aloud. For all my reasoning, the ache in my pussy seemed to be winning out. I finger-combed my hair down over my face, and before my conscious mind could object, raised the scissors and sliced a hank out of the middle, level with my eyebrows.

         A long tendril of hair fell lifeless to the floor, its light color in sharp contrast to the red of the carpet. Knowing there was no chance of Morris suddenly appearing, I slipped out of my top. My small breasts tightened with the exposure and my nipples hardened to pebbles. I ran the cold steel of the blades over them, while my other hand found its way beneath my jeans and slipped into the generous moisture waiting there. “Jesus!” I gasped, almost coming.

         Looking up, the gap in my hair where my nose poked through reminded me there was still a task left unfinished. I slipped the open blades of the scissors into the opening, aligning them with the shortened forelock and closed them tightly, sending more of my precious hair to the floor.

         They were shorter than I had planned but this was of no consequence as my arousal drove me to finish what I had started. Sscchink…Sscchink, the sound driving me closer and closer to an inevitable orgasm. It came as the last cut was made, ripping through me like a tidal wave. I knelt to the floor, panting as the scissors slipped from my fingers.

My excitement now satiated, I stood and walked to the mirror. The bangs were short, a good half inch above my eyebrows, running from temple to temple. The ends were blocky and unfinished, but at least they were straight, which was quite a feat, considering the froth my left hand had made of my crotch during the process.

“Oh, what the fuck, Leah?” I mewled, realizing how silly I looked; an errant child, punished by a strict governess for failing to keep her hair out her work. Looking down, the scissors lay open on the floor, in and amongst the strands of blonde locks I had so carelessly severed. I thought that I should clean up, but then I supposed Morris would find it amusing if I left it all there for him. So, I did precisely that. Grabbing my top, I made my way back to my room, never bothering to don it again.

         The look on Morris’s face when he walked in that evening was a mix of amusement and conceit. “Love the new look, Leah.” He mused, dipping down as if looking under the blocky fringe. “Bit short though, huh?” He giggled, pulling a bottle of red from the rack and twisting the cork out. He sipped at the wine and smiled. “It does take the years off though, doesn’t it? I’m thinking, what, maybe six?”

         His playful jabs did nothing but reignite the flames that had only just settled in my crotch. “I needed a change.” I lied, knowing he saw right through me.

         “You need a firm hand and a stiff cock in that so called lesbian cunt of yours, that’s what you need.” Morris moved closer, examining my reaction.

         At that moment all I could think of was a cock fucking me, his cock, any cock for that matter. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised by my response. “You’re right, Morris.” Had I just given him an open invitation to have me right there on the kitchen floor? I think my answer shocked him, almost as much as it did me.

         “Jesus, Leah, you are a slut, aren’t you?” He bit back. “I suppose you left your mess all over my playroom floor.”

         “I figured you’d appreciate it.” I said, acerbically.

         He set down his glass and drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment, never taking his eyes from mine. “Follow me.” Crooking his finger towards the basement stairs, there was no refusing him now. I dug this hole, now I had to climb in, all the way in.

         Still barefoot, I scurried behind him as he strode across the basement. He smiled as he looked down at my hair, then taking a seat in the barber chair, he swiveled to stare at me in the doorway. “Well, come in and close the door.” I did as he asked, resuming my spot. “No, that won’t do at all.” His finger over his lip contemplatively. “Go back out, strip out of your clothes, and come back in.”

         I looked for a smile, or any indication that he was kidding, but there was none. Was I going to do this? Once again, my cunt, as he called it, was in firm command. I opened my mouth to object, but nothing came out. Instead, I turned and stepped back into the chilly basement, closing the door behind me.

         As I stripped, I imagined Morris, gloating over how easily he had controlled me, sitting royally in his throne. This was me, surrendering, I told myself. Apparently, I needed this as much as he wanted it. I piled my clothes in the corner, and stepped back inside, utterly naked.

         “That’s better. Don’t you think so?” Morris sat forward admiring my nudity. I knew this must have been a fantasy fulfilled just by his expression. “Now, down on your hands and knees and clean up the mess you made.” He tossed a plastic bag at my feet, obviously prepared.

         As I bent forward to kneel, I could smell the juice emerging fresh from my slot, and if I could smell it, Morris certainly could. With my ass pointed directly at the chair, I knew what was coming as I slipped the first blonde strands into the bag.

         It started with his finger, probing me, readying me for his cock. “You’re so wet, Leah.” His breath coursing over my back, “Let’s try something bigger.”

         I felt the head of his member slip past the lips of my cunt, easing inside as my breath left me in a huge gasp. Either I was tight, or he was huge, because on the second thrust he held nothing back, slamming into me so hard it took my breath away. Then, he fucked me in earnest.

         “Keep…fucking…cleaning…slut!” He demanded caustically, as he drew out, only to impale me even harder. I did my best, managing to bag hanks hair still attached to my head along with the tatters on the rug. I knew I should be coming, but for some reason it seemed just out of reach. Finally with a flurry of throbbing assaults, he pressed his hips into my upturned ass and burst inside me.

         I could feel the hot jism coat the inside of me as he spasmed, his pumping cock expanding and contracting with each spray of his seed. “Oh my god.” Was all I managed as he slid his member out, my opening surely gaping. I twerked my ass upward involuntarily, needily, as he left me.

         “Very nice, Leah. You were even better than I imagined you’d be.” I heard him zip his fly, the leather of the chair squeaking as he retook his throne behind me. “Let’s see what you gathered.”

         Almost proudly, I held up the bag as I turned, filled to the seam with a tangle of blonde tendrils. I must have looked a fright as I started pulling my hair out from amongst the severed locks in the bag.

         He shook his finger. “No, no, Leah. What’s in the bag stays in the bag.”

         The look on my face must have spoken volumes, because he chuckled heartily over it. Slipping out the chair he reached down to pick up the scissors from the floor. “The hair in the bag is mine.” Holding out the scissors, he waited until I took them from him, my hand shaking as I did.

         “Morris, I…”

         “Stop procrastinating, Leah. You know what you’re going to do, so get on with it.” He didn’t seem impatient, just expectant.

         I looked down at the bag, wishing I’d been more careful as I gathered, but how was I to tell the strands apart. I was sure there was more hair in the bag that was still attached to my scalp, than what I had managed to clean from the rug. I wish I had come, because then I would surely have put up at least a morsel of resistance. As it was, my cunt was still in charge, and Morris must have sensed this.

         He reached between my legs and stroked my clitoris with his fingers, eliciting a low moan from me. “There now. A little erotic persuasion to ease the scissors through.”

         I looked down at the bag, raising my shaking hand to its opening and cut. “Oh, no, oh…”

         “See how easy it is, Leah. Now, give me what’s mine.” He quickened his pace, his fingers thrumming over my erect clit, leaving me gasping. A few more cuts with the dastardly blades and deed was done. What remained of my hair fell back against my sweaty form, as he grabbed the bag from my hand and sealed closed. “There. A little worse for it, but I think you’ll survive.”

         “I must look dreadful.” I mewled, my fingers replacing his absent ones as he resumed his spot in the chair.

         “Now, lay on the floor and finish, like a good slut.” His words only fed my debasement, my lust pushing me to obey.

         I fell back on the carpet, my legs splayed open toward him, my slimy cunt open and gaping from his fucking. Raising my knees with my feet dangling, I masturbated for him. He looked down at me as I writhed on the floor beneath him. My gasps and grunts further dividing him from me as I sunk lower, and he rose higher. As the first waves of my orgasm coursed through me, I knew that I would never be the same.

         Lying there, spent and thoroughly humiliated, the first pangs of reality began to settle into my gut. In my stuporous afterglow, I failed to notice that Morris had left. How long had I been ‘disconnected’, I wondered. I dreaded seeing myself as I peeled my sticky body from the floor. I stood, unsteadily, and made my way one of the mirrors.

         “Oh, fuck.” Was all that came out as I saw the damage I had wrought. Huge uneven hanks of hair were missing from my once beautiful mane. There would be no fixing this. I shook my head, mournfully, and went to leave. That was when I realized Morris had locked me in.

Chapter Three

 

         I considered calling out or even screaming, and with the state of mind I was in it may have been warranted. Why had he done this? Wasn’t my abject humiliation and state of ruin enough for him? Resigned, however, I tried the chair, surprised to find that it reclined almost flat. The room was warm enough that I was comfortable lying naked, curled up in the chair.

         My face had stuck to the smooth surface of the leather, and it made a peeling sound as I lifted my head. Looking around nothing had changed, and I had no idea what time it was or for how long I had been sleeping.

         My body ached from the workout it had endured the night before, but most especially my cunt, which felt raw and used. Standing, I tried to avoid the mirrors as I made my way toward the door. To my surprise it was unlocked.

         I walked to the corner where I had stashed my clothes. But they were nowhere to be found. “I see.” I murmured as I scampered across the cold concrete floor to the stairs. I could hear Morris walking around upstairs. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I appeared in his kitchen, naked. “Where are my clothes?” I sighed, meekly.

         “Oh, you won’t be needing those anymore. In fact, I took the liberty of disposing of all your clothes, as you’ll soon discover.” He smirked at my appearance. “We’re going to have to do something with that hair, Leah.” Morris flicked at one of the tattered ends. “This afternoon?” As if nothing could be more normal.

         Escaping the weirdness that I was feeling in his presence, I made my way upstairs to my room. What I found was upsetting to say the least. The bedroom had been stripped; any trace of my belongings gone. Even my laptop was missing, and I wondered how I would work, come Monday morning. “Morris!” I yelled, almost reflexively.

         “Yes.” He was standing in the doorway, anticipating my reaction.

         “What the fuck, Morris. What happened to all my things?” I spat, all humor erased from my tone.

         “Considering your place now, I got rid of it all.” Seeing the shocked expression on my face, he continued. “I didn’t toss them, Leah. I just locked them away for the time being.”

         “What about my job, you took my computer.” I begged.

         “Oh, that. Well, I took care of that by submitting your resignation.” He frowned. “You really need to guard your log in information more carefully, Leah.”

         “Morris, my god. What am I supposed to do now?” I looked around the barren room, the closets and drawers askew and the bed stripped to the mattress.

         “Well, you could be my submissive servant. That would solve all your issues at once, including your insatiable sexual appetite.” He sat at my desk and seemed to take some pleasure in my squirming. “You would cook and clean and see to all my, well, somewhat twisted needs.”

         The proposal was obscene, but at the same time, it triggered something inside that I knew all too well. For years, I had begged Angela to take a more dominant role in our relationship, something she had no interest in. Now it was being offered to me in spades. “What about my clothes?” Realizing after I said it that I disregarded the real question, and in doing so, accepted his terms.

         “You really don’t need them, Leah. I prefer you naked, at all times. Seeing as you’ve accepted my offer, why don’t you hop in the shower and clean yourself up. You stink of sex and sweat.” And with that, he left.

         I hadn’t actually accepted, but inside I knew I had to. My insatiable arousal was rearing its head again, something I was powerless to control. I knew it, Morris knew it, even Angela knew it. I was the poster child for sexual addiction.
Resigned, I stepped into the bathroom, eyeing myself in the wall-to-wall mirror that encased the vanity. I looked like I’d gone three rounds with a weed whacker and lost. Rummaging through the drawers, I found a pair of scissors and knew what I had to do. I shook my head as I opened the blades, slicing away at the damage. Thinking I could get away with something that could still be considered long, I ended up with an off-the-shoulders bob.

         All the while my clit was throbbing, relishing my self destruction. Why was I like this? I gave up wondering after I finished. Between the too short bangs and the rough-cut lob, I looked ridiculous. Maybe that was what Morris wanted. Maybe in debasing myself, it made me even smaller, insignificant and easier to control.

         Hopping into the shower, the hot water felt wonderful. Washing away all the incriminating evidence from the night before, I began to feel almost human. Almost.

         I towel dried everything, including my hair, which I had never done. My once waist length hair would never have allowed it, but now, it seemed only fitting that I treat it poorly. Dragging an available comb through the mess and ripping out a fair portion of it, I tidied up any stragglers that hung below the blunt edge of the bob.

         Retreating to my room, I tried to imagine what my life would be like now. What strange and peculiar things would Morris think up for me? As my hair dried, I began to look more and more like a Raggedy Anne doll than ever. My hair frizzed out and my bangs did the same.

         “I see you cut off more of your hair, Leah. I suppose I should have expected it. Am I going to have to hide the scissors?” Morris mused, standing in the doorway. “You look a bit like you stuck your finger in a light socket, don’t you.”

         Without realizing, my hand had crept down to my sex, unconsciously stroking my clit as he admonished my appearance. “I cut more off.” I said, awkwardly agreeing with his assessment.

         “Leah, I have just the thing. Why don’t you follow me.” Morris turned and waited at the top of the stairs, my bare feet patting along on the hardwood. We continued into the basement. “Bet you never thought we’d be back in here so soon, huh?”

         Indeed, mixed with the intoxicating smell of leather, was the unmistakable scent of sex. The room brought back some startling realizations from the night before. They weren’t unpleasant, and I felt more surprised than upset over what had occurred.

         “Have a seat.” He turned the barber chair in my direction. “You know, I’ve kept my word that I would not be cutting your hair. In fact, you have done all the cutting yourself, haven’t you?”

         I nodded mutely, as he swiveled the chair back and forth, beckoning me in. I felt my clit throb, missing the attention it was receiving earlier. The leather was cool again, and it felt good against my nakedness. I didn’t flinch when the cold steel of the handcuffs bit into my wrists and ankles. Morris secured me to the chair quickly, perhaps thinking I might resist. I was only sad that I couldn’t masturbate.

         He brought out a bowl of liquid and sprinkled the contents over my hair from his fingertips. After doing that a few times, he combed the sweet-smelling stuff into my hair with his fingertips, paying close attention to my scalp. “Ever hear of Tirupati, Leah?” He asked.

         “No, sorry.” I sighed.

         “Well, my dear slave, it’s a place of sacrifice. Women, with much longer hair than yours… now at least, go there to pay homage to Venkateswara. They leave their hair behind before entering the temple, offering a token to have it shaved clean off.”

         I was squirming a bit in the chair, my clit desperate for attention. I didn’t miss him referring to me as ‘slave’, but perhaps it was appropriate. “Oh…” Was all I managed in response to his explanation.

         “So, Leah, perhaps it’s only fitting that you offer up a sacrifice as you enter this new phase of your existence.” He pulled a straight razor from a drawer and unwrapped a blade, carefully inserting it. “I wouldn’t do this if you are unwilling.” He mused. “A simple nod will suffice.”

         My clit ached so badly for attention, that I blubbered out an embarrassing request. “If you just rub me a little, I’ll do whatever you want.”

         “Very well, sexpot. As you wish.” He reached down between my thighs, the open razor perilously close to my nub, and pressed hard against me. The attention sent shock waves through me. “Are you ready for your sacrifice now, Leah?”

         With his finger still pressed agonizingly against my clitoris, I nodded my consent. I gasped as his hand came away, but I would have little time to miss his ministrations.

         “Bow your head, slave.” Morris demanded, pressing it down as I complied.

         It started as a gentle scraping at the crown of my head, pushing away from the center. The scraping felt different after that, longer, smoother and cold. One stroke followed the next working outward from the crown. I was ready for this to be an unpleasant experience, but to my surprise, it felt good. As the blade kissed my newly exposed scalp, over and over, my excitement began to build all over again.

         Hair began to fall in hanks from my head, this being the only distressing part of the experience. My scalp began to feel chilly, and I knew that the entire top had been shaved bare. I could feel his breath against it, the sensation sending shivers through my body. The blade worked downward, over my temple and around my ears and then finally over my nape, the last of my hair falling around me in the chair.

         Morris dipped his hand into the liquid and splashed it over my baldness, the motion causing an erotic squishing sound as he ran his hands over my head. The feeling was indescribable, and I desperately wanted him to touch me again. Apparently, he wasn’t finished.

         Morris laid the chair back, reclined to its fullest extent. “Now, for the rest.” He smiled, running his fingers over my brows, their wetness slicking them flat. I didn’t resist. What would be the point now? The same blade that had rendered me bald made short work of the fine blonde arches. Three strokes each as I counted, my eyelids fluttering beneath.

         “I normally like a little garnish above a girl’s cunt, but in your case, I think uniformity will be best.” He uncuffed my ankles and laid my legs over the arms of the chair, spreading my slot wide open for him.

         I really should not have been worried, as he obviously knew what he was doing. Still, seeing that deadly sharp blade scrape away my pubes had my heart racing, especially as he worked around my clit and labia. Morris declared me clean, my sacrifice accepted.

         “There’s the Leah I’ve been yearning to see. Care to have a look?” He unfastened my wrists and helped me from the chair, leading me to the one mirror that was floor to ceiling.

         “Holy fuck!” I exclaimed, my hands immediately shooting to my scalp, and grasping at the silky smoothness the razor had stripped bare.

         “I want you to look at yourself, Leah.” He brought my hands back to my side and moved me closer to the mirror.

         My scalp gleamed in the soft lighting of the room, reflecting the glow of the lamp overhead. My face was a blank, utterly expressionless without my brows and my pussy hairless for the first time since puberty. The look was very reminiscent of the image I had masturbated to so many times, minus the tattoos and piercings.

         “Oh, god, I’m a freak.” I buried my face in my hands, the reality of my condition finally sinking in.

         “Yes, Leah, but you’re my freak.” He comforted, rubbing his hand over my naked pate.

Epilogue

 

         The walls of my personal oubliette were as bare as the day I’d moved in. I wasn’t allowed any decoration, nor any fineries whatsoever. In the corner, a futon large enough for sleep was the only furniture in the ten by ten foot space. A single light bulb was the only illumination. Morris had been particularly proud of the stainless steel toilet he managed to get from a prison, when they revamped the place. It was well used and showed it. This was my space, when I wasn’t slaving.

         There was no questioning that I was his slave, and Morris frequently reminded me of that fact. Each morning he removed me from my cell and into the playroom, where he meticulously shaved me. It had been a year and three months since I lost my hair and I’d quite forgotten what it even felt like. I was hairless, and I’d accepted that.

         Occasionally, Morris would use me in one way or another. He enjoyed flogging me, and putting me through my paces in the playroom. My cunt had adapted to his frequent fuckings, as had my ass. Strangely, he didn’t care for blow jobs, saying that my teeth were too much of a distraction for him. I was grateful for that, but he had brought up a more permanent solution to the problem. I only hoped he kept it as a notion.

         I spend the day cleaning his house, naked of course. I think my body wouldn’t know how to feel about clothing should I ever be allowed. I cooked him breakfast and supper, and waited on him hand and foot, as a good slave should.

         Over the time I’d been there, Morris had people in with certain skills. I’d been tattooed and pierced and an electrologist has been working to make my hairlessness quite permanent. Such was my existence now. I doubt I could ever return to a normal life.

         About six months into my enslavement, Morris announced that we would be entertaining a special guest. It wasn’t unusual for him to invite friends or associates from work to share in our special arrangement. My heightened sex drive was always up to the challenge of multiple users and Morris often boasted about my endurance. Of course, my unique appearance was always a hit, and many would come back time and time again.

         This guest, he promised, would be different. I prepared a lavish meal as I always did when we had guests, but the idea of someone special had my clit throbbing most of the day. When the doorbell rang, I answered it as I always did, no undue modesty or pride.

         As the door swung open, however, my breath caught in my throat. There, standing in the covered entryway, was Angela. I forgot myself for a moment.

         “Well, are you going to invite me in?” She sneered, in her all too familiar tone. I could have been mistaken, but I swear she had no idea who I was. “Mory, warned about his unusual servant, and it’s a good thing.”

         “Angela, how good to see you.” Morris exclaimed as he took my place welcoming our guest.

         “I’m so glad you warned me about your weird little servant. It almost scared me off, for heaven’s sake. What hideous little thing she is.” Angela tossed her coat over me and accompanied Morris into the house.

         Still shaking from the encounter, I hung her coat in the front closet and continued preparing diner, pouring each of them a glass of wine. She looked at me as one might observe a naked mole rat at the zoo, something to be pitied and scorned. I was grateful she had no idea that I had once been her precious Leah. I was almost certain Morris would let it slip before the night was out.

         Apparently, the two met during a business luncheon, and realizing who she was, Morris made it a mission to get her over for a visit. He knew how humiliating it would be for me to be so exposed.

         Of course, it was no wonder she didn’t recognize me. The Leah she remembered had long blonde hair and wasn’t covered in tattoos and a myriad of piercings. Still, I swore I caught her doing a second take when I spoke.

         During supper I ate in the kitchen as I always did when we had guests. Afterward, Morris summoned me into the living room, where I took my usual spot kneeling at his feet.

         “She seems obedient, at least. Wherever did you find such a hideous creature?” Angela hissed.

         “She’s very obedient.” Morris declared “Slave, I’d like you to show our guest how much you appreciate her shoes.”

         Without hesitation, I crawled to Angela’s feet and began licking at her heels, which I recognized as her favorite pair of Louboutin. She laughed, as I worshipped her feet, having kicked off the heels. “She’s disgusting, Morris.”

         “You asked where I found her, Angela. Well, you see I didn’t find her, I created her.” He reached down and stroked the back of my head, which always elicited a moan.

         “Really?” Angela pushed me away with the ball of her foot, and I returned to my position at Morris’s feet. “Oh, do tell.” She mused. “You mean she was, like, normal when you got her?”

         “Oh, I think you’d be amazed just how normal she was back then.” Morris stroked my baldness from front to back and if I could purr I certainly would have.

         “If I had the resources, I would commission you to create one for me.” Angela gushed. “I mean, she’s like a little gargoyle mincing about. Hideous, but fascinating.”

         “Yes, she’s quite useful, in more ways than you can imagine.” Morris boasted on my behalf.

         “I can imagine quite a lot. You know my ex used to press me about dominating her, but I knew she wasn’t the type.” Her words sizzled in my mind. Was he going to tell her?

         “Care to try your hand?” Morris asked, standing and pulling me to my feet. Reaching behind the sofa cushion he produced my favorite flogger and offered it to Angela.

         To my surprise she took it from him and hefted the weight in her hand. “Are you sure?”

         Morris pulled my hands behind me and thrust me forward towards her. “Absolutely.”

         Angela was never one to ask twice and lashed out with tails, which landed roughly across my breasts. Gasping, I was more excited by the spectacle of my ex whipping me, to allow the pain to penetrate my countenance. Stroke after stroke she battered me until my torso was a crisscross of raised red welts.

         “I think she’s had enough.” Angela gasped, and I could tell that she was almost as aroused as I was. I was dismissed to the kitchen to clean while the two of them cajoled and joked for the rest of the evening. I was surprised that Morris had yet to spill the beans, as it were. Maybe he wasn’t going to.

         With the evening at an end, Morris excused himself, leaving me to see Angela out. I retrieved her coat from the closet and held it for her while she slipped into it. “I hope you enjoyed your evening, Miss Angela.” I managed, speaking out of turn. She wrinkled her nose and looked down at me.

         “I did, actually. Are you… this all so weird so I won’t ask any questions. I find your situation fascinating, to be honest.” It was the first civil words she had spoken to me all night.

         “I’m quite content. It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Angela.” I opened the door for her, and she stepped out, almost missing my clue.

         She stopped, turning to face me finally. “Who are you?”

         Angela almost fainted when I answered, but needless to say, she’s been back quite a few times since then.

The End