No Going Back

No Going Back

 

By Shorngirl

 

       I was halfway down the driveway before I really thought about what I was about to do. I hesitated before backing into the narrow lane. I looked back at the large Georgian mansion before pulling away. “What am I doing?” I asked myself aloud as I slipped the car into drive and left it behind. “I must be crazy.”

       It had been three years since I’d been left a young widow, my husband losing his life in a car accident. I mourned his death for over a year, I suppose the requisite time before considering what I was going to do with my life.

       His wealth and sizeable life insurance policy had left me in good stead; I would never have to work to maintain the lifestyle to which I had grown accustomed. The thing was, we were never really that close. He was well aware of my affinity for women, but despite my assuring him that I would never be the lover he might want, he married me anyway.

       It was a marriage of convenience, really. As much as I hated to admit it, I was arm candy. Accompanying him to parties and social functions, ever the dutiful trophy wife. More than a few eyebrows would wag if they knew how cold and sexless our marriage actually was.

       That was all over now. Enough time had passed that the incessant visits from his associates had all but stopped. I think they actually thought they could slip into his place with me. I had left them all wanting, all but one. The only one who saw through the façade. Margaret Farars.

       She had shown up at my door some three or four weeks after Michael had passed. There was a certain domineering air about her, the way she moved through my house as if it were her own. Her condescension towards me was obvious through the veil of sympathy that she barely pulled off. “You two were never really close, though, were you?” She presumed, as she sipped from the tea that I had prepared.

       “You’re very perceptive, Margaret.” I sighed, trying not to look directly at her. She was quite beautiful, actually. Long blonde hair and a long, vulpine face. Then there were the eyes, a deep, almost violet blue that seemed to rip right through me. “We never were close that way,” I admitted.

       “In fact, you don’t find the company of men very alluring at all, do you?” She assumed, correctly.

       “Again, very perceptive.” I murmured, almost sotto voce.

       She disappeared after that, never making another visit. I suppose I should have considered that quite fortunate. I wasn’t sure just how long I could have played coy with her before succumbing to her charms.

       Of course, that was before I ran into her at the Old Mill Inn, a restaurant that Michael and I had frequented. The food was excellent, and the service was second to none, so I saw no reason to stop going by myself.

       I saw Margaret walking across the room, seemingly leading a young woman to a table some three or four away from my own. It only took a moment before our eyes met. I was almost expecting her to walk over to me, but she never did. That didn’t stop me from observing her and her companion for the rest of my meal, however.

       The girl was a bit elvish, her blonde hair cut drastically, with a body that was lithe and almost too thin. The satin dress she wore was quite revealing; although not transparent, the weight of the fabric hugged her form, leaving her quite exposed to anyone with a twinge of imagination.

       Every once in a while, Margaret caught me spying, and she seemed almost tickled that I was observing them. She treated the girl almost as a pet, who waited on her as if she held her in her power. Perhaps she did.

       A few days later, a letter arrived in the post, one with no point of origin. The hand on the envelope was elegant, so I didn’t toss it in the trash as I did most anonymous mail that I received. The letter had a slight scent to it, one that I recognized, but couldn’t place.

My dearest Penelope,

       It was lovely to see you out and about, but most especially so, as I had my most recent acquisition in tow. Her name is Raine. She seems to fit into my life quite nicely.

 

A photograph fell out from between the leaves of the letter, landing face down on the carpet between my feet. I left it for the moment, reading on.

I have shaped her into my own ideal, of course. When I first found her, she was quite a beauty, her long blonde tresses falling nearly to her shapely ass. Of course, vanity has no place in a servant’s life, so I took the liberty of separating her from her hair.

There were a few tears shed, as was to be expected. This was quite a sacrifice she was making to be in my service. In the end, she accepted her shorn pate as a mark of her subservience.

I know this may or may not come as a shock to you, that I should live such an animated lifestyle. I tend to think the latter, for you, Penelope. No, I’m quite certain that there are stirrings within you as you read this note.

 

She was right, of course. I found the idea of a woman succumbing to another in such a way almost irresistible. I unconsciously place a hand between my legs, testing that the moisture that must surely be leaking from me, wasn’t soaking through my slacks.

I’ve taken the liberty of enclosing a photo; one that I am quite certain you will find enticing. I won’t bore you with the day-to-day, Penelope, but know that I am thinking of you.

Should you ever seek a change, I will leave it to you to find me. I feel it’s better to allow a submissive, such as yourself, to work at becoming what they so desperately desire.

 

Do take care, Penelope,

Ms. Margaret.

 

       I stared at the pages for a moment until the exquisite handwriting faded into blurry splotches on the parchment. Was I really what she said I was? I know I’d always felt excited when I’d see a strong woman taking control. The thing was, I never imagined that I was that woman. Perhaps she was right.

       Then, I suddenly remembered the photo. I reached down between my legs, catching the unmistakable scent of my arousal as I did so. As I flipped it over, it showed Raine, naked and exposed, her once glorious mane cascading over her shoulders, hiding one diminutive breast.

       It was more evocative to show her as she once was, knowing that she was now shorn of those same locks. As I gazed at her, I couldn’t stop myself from slipping my fingers down my front and under the seam of my panties.

       A few quick caresses were all it took before I burst through the most glorious orgasm I had had in years. I had slipped onto the floor by then, dropping the letter and photo by my side, knowing without a doubt what my future held.

       Knowing and acting are two entirely different things. The letter and the photo found their way into my nightstand and would occasionally be fodder for masturbation. That was where things stood for nearly a year.

       I won’t lie and say I didn’t look for her; I did. But it wasn’t the fervent quest that it should have been. I would seek her out at the Old Mill Inn, hoping that I might run into her there. I never did. I even went so far as to search for her on the internet, but Margaret Farars was as elusive as one might imagine.

       One day, another letter arrived, penned in the same exquisite hand. I almost ran to the house from the letterbox, and I pondered stripping out my clothes before opening the envelope. I refrained, for some reason, perhaps not wanting to open it at all.

       I set it on the table in front of me, staring at it. A few minutes later, I carefully picked it up and slipped a finger beneath the closure. The same alluring scent escaped the pages within as I eased them out. There was no photo this time.

Penelope,

       I find myself at loose ends of late, my dear. Raine has left me, and I feel a bit betrayed. She always seemed perfect, always treated me with the utmost respect, but she has suddenly vanished.

       Then, to find out she has taken up with one of my closest friends, one who holds the same values and standing. Needless to say, I was shocked by the impudence of the girl, to just leave me as she did.

       Needless to say, I shall not be associating with this so-called friend any longer, for I feel she may have coerced Raine with a promise she could grow her hair back once in her service.

       Now, I know you are well set up, Penelope. I think it would be too presumptuous of me to allow that you might leave all that behind to become my servant.

       Nevertheless, I know who you are, and what you secretly desire. You simply exude subservience, Penelope. It seeps out of you like water through a sieve.

 

       I set down the letter, dizzy with the notion that I might be taking her offer seriously. I lived alone in a huge house on a large estate, but I was alone, and had been for three years.

       And so, I find myself driving away from my life, as was. I knew where I was going now; Margaret hadn’t left that to chance as she had when she was flush with the attendance of Raine. It wasn’t a long drive, but it gave me time to recall the balance of the letter.

       I shall not be treating you any differently than Raine, Penelope. You too shall be shorn. You will know the absolute resignation of your station as I reduce you to the servant you know you yearn to be.

       I saw how you treasured your hair, those auburn locks coifed so perfectly as you hung from the arm of your impotent husband. I’ve been watching you, however. I know you’ve let them go a bit. I see how you wear your hair down now, having trimmed the length so it doesn’t bother your shoulders any longer.

       I think it would not be too much of a stretch to imagine them gone entirely. I long to caress the ginger fuzz that will be left behind, the stubble tickling my fingers and enforcing the difference between us.

       Do think about it, my dear Penelope. I will be waiting.

Ms. Margaret

       My fingers were sweaty as they gripped the steering wheel, but not nearly as moist as my cunt, which was streaming by the time I pulled through the gates at the appointed address.

       The place dwarfed my own, so as I approached the ornate Gothic castle, I couldn’t help but feel infinitesimally small. “Is this really where she lives?” I asked myself aloud. I would find out, soon enough, that this was only one of her houses.

       There was no one to greet me, so I parked my car and walked up to the tall wooden door at the front of the place. Knocking and testing it, no one answered, and the door was decidedly locked.

       Wandering back, I looked up and the battlements that crested the walls of the house, deciding to try a different entrance. I eventually found myself at the back, and a far less assuming doorway. A tradesman’s entrance, certainly, I thought.

       I had made no indication to Margaret that I had accepted her offer, and I supposed it was a bit presumptuous of me to simply arrive on her doorstep. Was this what she wanted? When I tested the simple framed door, I found it open. I knocked a pane of the open door, tentatively, suddenly faced with a large woman who was the epitome of any imagined matron.

       “Who might you be, then?” She asked, with a heavy northern brogue.

       I was so surprised by her sudden presence that the power of speech escaped me for a moment. After an awkward minute, I finally responded. “Penelope… Penelope Manning.” I managed, haltingly.

       “So…you must be the wench the mistress has been speakin’ of.” She raised an unkempt eyebrow. “You’d better come with me.” The woman led me through what must have been the bowels of the grand house, until we reached the base of a narrow set of steps. “I’ll be takin’ those.” She indicated my clothes.

       Taken aback by her request, I stood silent for a moment before my fingers found their way to the top button of my blouse. Was I really going to be forced to strip naked before this behemoth of a woman? Apparently so.

       As I handed each item to her, she placed them on the bottom step after folding them neatly. I hesitated when I reached my panties and bra, but a stern twist of her countenance had me handing those over as well.

       The woman, whom I would later address as Mrs. McCrea, looked down her nose at me as she pointed up the steps. “You’ll be findin’ the mistress on the first floor, lassie. Get on with you.” She quickly gathered my clothing and disappeared down the hall, leaving me to ponder my fate.

       Part of me was frightened beyond all imagining. The other part, the part that was driving my cunt to leak down my thighs, was most decidedly in control. I silently climbed the stairs, pausing on the landing before finally landing on the first floor.

       There were three doors, all of which were closed. Shaking my head, I simply walked through the one directly in front of me, stepping into an elaborately decorated hall. Being utterly naked in such decadent surroundings made my heart race as I slowly made my way down the hall, unconsciously covering my ginger bush with my left hand.

       “No need for modesty, Penelope.” Margaret’s voice announced from behind me. “Do stand up straight, arms at your side.”

       I did as she asked, exposing myself to her fully for the first time. I didn’t respond as she approached, walking in a circle around me.

       “Why, you’re every bit as lovely as I had imagined.” She flipped her fingertips through my shoulder-length hair as she came to stand behind me. Her hands came to rest on my waist, and I unconsciously shuddered at her touch. It was as they slipped upwards to cup my modest breasts, that I very nearly swooned. “I can smell how excited you are, my dear. There’s no denying how you are feeling. Her hands fell away as she came to stand in front of me.

       For a brief moment, my eyes met hers, and I literally fell into her powerful gaze. I opened my mouth to speak, but her finger quickly rested over my lips, preventing anything I might have to say.

       “Are you ready?” She asked, without any elaboration. She pulled her finger away, expecting a response.

       “Yes, Ms. Margaret.” I mewled, dropping my eyes to her feet.

       “Miss or Mistress from now on, Penny. My name is only for those of higher standing than yourself.” She scolded, gently. She used the name I had reviled since childhood. My brothers had called me ‘Penny’, and I had cringed every time I heard it.

       “Yes, Miss.” I continued to study her feet.

       “What of your house, that fine estate of yours?” Mistress asked.

       “It’s been let, Miss,” I admitted. It had been a way of pushing me out of my defiance. I knew that had I not done it, I would never have arrived where I was. In a few days, the new tenants would take possession, and that would be that. No going back.

       “Very industrious of you. We’ll have to see whether I allow you to keep the proceeds, however.” Mistress warned. “I can’t have you thinking that you might escape your significantly reduced station in life, now, can we?”

       “Yes, Miss… I mean no, Mistress.” I fumbled. I shivered at the idea of losing everything. Would she take it all away from me?

       “Well, there’s no getting around it, I’m afraid, Penny.” Mistress mused, indicating the lavish staircase that wound up the second floor. I followed behind her, the exquisite scent that I knew to be hers wafting over me as I climbed. My bare feet patted over the marble floor as she led me into a gold-trimmed bath.

       With me braised against the wall, Mistress raised her phone, snapping a few images of me. I remembered the photo of Raine, with her long blonde hair, and I realized the background was the same. I was Raine. “That’s done. Now, have a seat and let us rid you of all that decadent hair.” She pushed a brass-framed chair toward me, and I had no choice but to sit. I heard them before I saw them. Mistress held the clippers menacingly before my face.

“Listen to me, Penny. As you feel the clippers pass through your locks, think of all your pride, all your money, all your possessions being stripped away as well. With each pass, a little more of the old you falls away.”

She placed the whirring blades at the top of my forehead and pushed back, the clippers laboring momentarily before catching their stride, allowing her to press them tightly to my skull as they ran front to back. In the mirror, I saw the white strip of barren scalp they left in their wake. She was shaving me, far shorter than Raine had been shorn. Then, I remembered what she had told me, to imagine all that I was being taken from me. So as the second pass widened the hairless strip, I felt a distinct diminishment.

Just as my hair was being taken, so too was any standing I once held in the world. It was both terrifying and glorious at once. I was falling down a great hole from which there would be no escape.

The top of my head was shorn to the skin, leaving the ginger tresses falling helplessly from the sides. I was ridiculous. Yes, it all had to go now, the house, the grounds, the money, all of it. So as Mistress quickly carved arches around my ears and rid me of any covering at all, I knew she had reduced me to this. “I don’t deserve any of it, Miss.” I spluttered, not believing I had admitted to her.

“I know, Penny.” Mistress ran her fingers over my freshly denuded scalp, the resistance of the stubble left behind barely discernible. “Shall I relieve you of that burden, then?” She asked.

It was only then that the reality of what I had done showed itself fully. It was a revelation of sorts, to fall so far, and even rejoice in the undoing. Mistress reached between my legs and ran a finger through my sopping cunt. Moaning, I knew that she was going to have her way with me, completely. “Yes, Mistress.” I managed, through a cresting orgasm.

“Once I take it, you cannot have it back.” She warned, waving a finger, while the other hand continued to play between my legs.

“Oh, no, I don’t want it back. Take it all, take all of me.” I shouted as I fell from the precipice. And I did fall, all the way. There would be no going back.