Princess Penturbury

Tonight is dinner at Mark’s house. The occasion is the yearly gathering of all of Penturbury. 

I am wearing a white shirt and navy trousers, and on my left hand is my best watch. Elle is dressed in a fiery red. I had asked her to wear her pale blue dress, which I so love, but after a petty argument between us earlier today she wasn’t in the mood to do me any favors. Her hair, blonde, curly, and down to her hips, is let down but tied in an elaborate style. She looks absolutely stunning. 

Most of the village is already there when we enter the house. Of course, Penturbury is tiny – it is home only to 17 couples, Elle and I included. Everyone is between twenty and forty. 

The age demographics are not surprising, considering the Game. 

I take a look around the room, while Elle scatters off to join her friends. Mark is with a group of people, and there is that unmistakable look of subtle sadness etched on his face. The poor sod has been this way for years now, ever since his wife became Princess Penturbury. But with all things considered, his marriage is doing quite well, at least so far. 

He is certainly doing better than I did. 

Across the room, in the middle of a group of guys, is his ravishing wife Lily. One could be forgiven for mistaking her to be English like the rest of us if it wasn’t for hair – her long, straight black hair, inherited from her Vietnamese mother, and which has apparently not been cut since Lily was in middle school. It is tied in a silky braid that sweeps the floor. On her neck is the Ornament of the Princess, a symbol that she is a free woman not bound by marriage, for she has the longest hair in town. Her flirty grin makes it absolutely clear that she knows how her status as Princess has been eating her husband from the inside, but yet, that she does not care. 

“Amazing, isn’t she?” 

From behind me emerges Raymond, glass of wine in one hand. I wonder how long he has stood there, following my gaze. 

“Ray,” I nod. “How are you doing?” 

“Oh, I’m doing perfectly well, thanks. How is Elle?” 

“She is fine.” 

“I’ve noticed that her hair has gotten a little longer.” 

My fists clench. 

“What a lovely Princess she was, your wife.” 

“Well, she isn’t Princess anymore, so shut it.” 

Ray lifts his arms in surrender. “Hey, just saying. Everyone still talks about her. As your friend I think you should know, if you do not, already.” 

I do, but that does not help my mood. After Ray walks away, I retreat to the makeshift bar which is a table on one side of the room decked with drinks. I stay there alone, until Lily comes by. 

“Matt,” she says curtly. “Alone?“ 

I nod. 

Lily pours herself a glass and leans on the table beside me. The gloominess suddenly lifts from my face. 

“Enjoying yourself over there?” 

Lily smiles. “Yes. It is amazing, y’know. Maybe you should grow out your hair, try and outgrow me, then who knows, maybe an exception will be made and you will be made princess.” 

I scoff, and smack Lily on the arm, while she laughs hysterically. 

”Anyway, I see that you’re all dressed up. What’s the occasion?” 

”Well…” 

“I’m kidding, I know what these are. Your sex clothes.” 

”My sex clothes?” 

“You always wear them when you come to see me.” 

I turn a little red. The fact that Lily keeps track of what I’m wearing is crazy. Or maybe it just speaks to my narrow wardrobe of nice clothes. 

Lily comes closer, closing the gap between us. She lays her hand on my chest. From the corner of my eye, I see Elle watching, but I pretend not to notice. I grab Lily’s wrist just as her fingers find the top button of my shirt. 

”Lily, inside.” 

Lily giggles. ”Follow me.” 

As I follow Lily inside, this time, I make eye contact with Elle. She does not look pleased. I shrug. 

 

 

 

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As Princess, Lily is always fucking, yet each time, she fucks with a hungriness that suggests that she has not had sex in years. 

Lily does not wait for the doors to completely close to unbutton my shirt. She kisses my neck and bites on it with an intensity that is typical of her. I play along, until she herself realizes that our heat levels are far from being on par with each other. She smirks, as if to admonish me, before pulling her braid in the front. 

Lily discovered my fetish only a few encounters into her becoming Princess. Which is amazing, given that Elle herself does not know, and we’ve been married for ten years. Apparently I focused on her hair too much even when we were having sex, and that gave it away. 

Lily wraps her braid around my dick, and as she does, I become more and more harder. I had previously asked her if she minded my cock touching her otherwise well-maintained hair, and she laughed saying that her hair had already ended up in her own butt crack more times than she could count. I could not say whether she was only joking. 

After a bit more foreplay, she starts stroking. I sometimes cum immediately, but not today. Today, I relish the experience, keeping Lily’s hair wrapped over my dick for as long as my body would allow it. 

When we are done, I am on the floor, panting, and Lily sit on the edge of the bed, her hair glimmering with my cum all over it. She hungrily scoops my cum off her hair and licks. If it wasn’t for my fetish, I would have regarded Lily as revolting. 

 

 

 

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Elle does not say a word on our walk back home. 

She is not angry, but she is clearly upset, which makes it worse. I feel terrible, but I know that if I rewound time, I’d simply do what I did again, because that is just the way I am. Elle knows it too. 

We change our clothes in continued silence and get into bed. However ruptured our marriage is, we still sleep in the same bed, albeit with a little distance. I lay awake, thinking about what I’ve done. I turn to look at Elle. She is turned the other way, and so all I can see is her golden mane. Even in the dark, her hair is a wonderful thing to look at. 

“Elle?” 

“What?” 

”I… I’m sorry. For what I did.” 

Elle stays quiet. 

“I know it does not mean much, but I consider myself very lucky to have you, even despite everything that is going on right now.” 

“Matt…” 

“I’m just such an idiot at times.” 

Elle turns to me. Her eyes are a tad teary 

“Matt, it is okay. You do not have to say that. Now, get some sleep.” 

She turns back to her side. I find it incredible how she continues to put up with me after all this time. 

 

 

 

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I am sitting at the dining table, as Elle is preparing breakfast, when there is a knock on the door. I get up, wondering who could possibly be at our door at this time of the day. 

It is Mark and Lily. 

I gulp. 

“Matt,” says Mark. “Can we come in?” 

Lily looks gravely upset. Mark, on the other hand, no longer bears the sodden expression that has been a fixture of his face for the last few years. 

I beckon the two to come inside. Elle is out of the kitchen, no doubt just as confused as I am. 

“So, what is it?” 

Before Mark can answer, Lily turns around. Elle and I gasp. Lily’s hair ends at her shoulders. 

“As you can see,” begins Mark. “Lily got a haircut, and she is obviously no longer the woman in Penturbury with the longest hair. Which means…” 

Mark does not need to complete the sentence as we realize what it means. The color drains from my face. 

Lily lifts her purse. From it, she takes the Ornament of the Princess. She cups it in her hands, and hands it to Elle. No doubt from the awkwardness, Mark and Lily leave right after. 

Elle and I look at each other. She is trying her very best to appear apologetic, even though this is out of both of our hands, but it is clear that she finds the prospect very exciting. 

Meanwhile I do my very best to suppress my scowl. 

That night, we again sleep together with a little distance, but this time, it is I who is turned away. Elle’s arms are wrapped across my body. It is something that I would have appreciated on any other day, but today, it feels offending. It feels as though some higher power is having a laugh at my expense. 

 

 

 

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I wake up late the next morning. Elle is already up, visibly in better spirits than usual. She even gave me a good morning kiss, for the first time in well over a year. It took me effort to reciprocate it. 

As I sit on the couch, my thoughts first drift to Lily. Her haircut. She loved her hair, so, why did she cut it? Did Mark force her into it? But that can’t be – Mark is the last person you’d expect to do such a thing, and talking your Princess wife into getting a haircut is considered taboo already. 

I quickly stop thinking about the why, and about the haircut itself. Gosh, whoever cut her hair sure is a lucky person. I hope Lily’s hair was braided before it was cut. Maybe it was dressed in the cutter’s cum, at least that is what would have happened if I was given cutting duty. Regardless, I hope Lily kept the shorn braid. Of course, however, I cannot ask her anything as she’s no longer Princess, and that is a shame. 

Then, Elle emerges out of the shower room. She is dressed impeccably. I search her face for answers, but all she offers is a smile. She goes to the kitchen, grabs our plates of breakfast, and joins me on the couch. 

She is focused on her breakfast, and I am focused on her. God, she is so gorgeous. Gorgeous now even more because of the evident smile on her face. Maybe her becoming Princess isn’t so bad after all. It could save our marriage, and I also believe that if I show some improvement in behavior, she’ll remain all mine, despite her new status. 

”Elle, you look marvelous today.” 

She smiles. Her cheeks turn red. “Aww, thanks.” 

“Are you happy? I mean, with everything at home. With me.” 

She nods. 

We both return to our breakfast. I let myself relax a bit. Elle is too sweet. 

Then, there is a knock on the door. Before I can get up, Elle leaps to her feet. She straightens her dress, and goes to the door. 

At the door are three men – Liam, Phil, and Edward. Their faces are painted with broad grins. 

“May we come inside?” 

Elle lets the three in. Her face is flushed red. There is a weird energy between Elle and the guys. Nervous anticipation. 

It is an energy I know all too well. My heart sinks. 

The guys do not acknowledge my presence at all. 

“You look so pretty, Elle,” says Phil. 

“Aww, thanks. And you look handsome. All of you.” 

Heat is rising in my chest. I restrain myself from getting up. I cannot react. 

“So, lead the way.” 

Elle walks toward our bedroom, the three guys close on her heels. Elle is beaming, and the guys are giggly. I hope for Elle to look at me, to explain what is going on. But her eyes are set on the bedroom door. I do not think that she is deliberately ignoring me, no. Worse, I really do think that she has forgotten about me. Elle does not turn when she shuts the door behind the dudes. 

Our bedroom door is long overdue for replacement, and it is now more apparent, as I hear everything that goes on inside from the couch. Laughter, followed by moaning, and then the sound of clapping of hands against flesh. I had not heard Elle moan that much since the last time she was Princess. 

While the ordeal was underway, I had thought about how I would absolutely not be sleeping in the bedroom, the sanctity of which has been ripped to shreds. But the decision has been made for me, as not one of them emerges out of the bedroom for the remainder of the day. I fall asleep on the couch to the sound of wild giggles and moans from my wife of ten years. 

 

 

 

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I am inside the village grocery store. Tomorrow is the monthly Penturbury dinner. As Elle is Princess, we are hosting, and there is shopping to be done. 

The dinner marks the passing of exactly a year since Elle has become Princess. But, it feels like much longer. 

I walk past the stationery aisle, lost in my thoughts. My eyes land on the shelf of scissors. There are all kinds of scissors, ranging from smaller craft scissors, to incredibly large ones that are almost the size of garden shears. 

Elle’s hair has gotten significantly longer over the past year – it now goes past her butt. Normally, I’d find that a lovely sight, her loose curls dancing about her hips. But it is something that I’ve come to resent, because it represents Elle being Princess, and by extension, the problems in our marriage. Her hair, which I once saw as regal, now appears like the mark of a whore. 

I have thought about cutting it – walking up to her and ripping through her hair. I always had, courtesy of my fetish, but before, I would shut the thoughts down as I considered them blasphemous. It is obviously still something that I cannot actually do, but I’ve found myself fantasizing it more than I should be. 

“Oooh, scissors, what kind are you looking for?” 

It is Ray. 

I scowl. “Leave me alone, will you?” 

Ray frowns. “I’m only trying to help. It is my store, after all, and you’re my customer.” 

I let myself ease a little. Ray is mocking me, but he is the least of my problems right now. 

“How are preparations for the dinner?” 

“Going well, thanks.” 

“You should have seen the way you were looking at the scissors. Your eyes had murderous intent. Were you planning to kill me?” 

I snort. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying that. I know that this last year has been hard on you.” 

I soften a bit more, but do not let my guard down. “What would you know about it?” 

Ray raises his arms. “Not claiming to fully understand how you feel, but I do worry about you. You probably think of me as a vile friend who’s always thinking about your wife, and you’d be justified in thinking so, given how things were the first time she was Princess, but you’d agree that I’m a changed man now, wouldn’t you?” 

Ray does have credibility on that front. He has, surprisingly, not once come to see Elle or called Elle over to his. I nod. 

Ray pulls out a packet of scissors off the shelf and rolls it between his fingers. 

“Your problems would be solved if she just cut her hair.” 

“She would never agree to it. 

“Well, what if she didn’t have to…” 

I glare at Ray. “Absolutely not.” 

Ray sighs. “Do you think that low of me? I’m not asking you to sneak up on her and cut it.” 

The fact that he said it out loud makes me think that that was absolutely what he was going to say. 

“All I’m saying is, maybe, there’s a way to put her in a situation where she will be forced to choose to cut her hair, y’know?” 

“What does that even mean?” 

Ray chuckles. “I know it sounds murky, forced to choose, but I have an idea. You will probably not like it, but will you hear me out, at least?” 

“What is it?” 

“Go to the second next aisle, first shelf from the left. You’ll find what you’ll need there.” 

 

 

 

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The gathering was scheduled to start at 6 PM, but the guests started filling in an hour earlier. 

Most couples, on arriving, would split – with the husband going straight to Elle to flirt with her, and the wife coming to me with a look of ‘you poor thing’ written over her face. They were simply continuing what they did when it was Mark who bore the brunt of being husband to the Princess, but I did not need their sympathies. 

What I do need, is Lily. 

Mark is on a business trip, and so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to talk to Lily. I am not looking for sex, but for precedence with respect to what I plan to do. As the most recent Princess, she is the perfect person to talk to. As I look around, my eyes meet Ray’s. He nods, as if to reassure me about the plan. I might have felt better if the endorsement is from anyone but him. 

I stay with the wives of Penturbury until Lily finally comes. Her hair has grown a bit from her choppy shoulder-length cut last year – the longest strands now reach her bra. I walk over to her. 

Just as she sees me come, she turns the other way. 

“Hey, Lily. Can we talk?” 

She pretends to have not heard me at first, but it only takes a few seconds for her to change her mind and turn toward me. 

“What?” 

“It sure has been a long time since we last-“ 

“Matt, cut to the point.” 

I take a sharp breath. 

“Why did you cut your hair?” 

“That is… not your business.” 

“Did Mark make you cut it? 

“What? No!” 

“Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really.” 

That was not what I was expecting to hear. I feel a little let down, because Mark forcing Lily to cut her hair would have made me feel better about my plan. But Lily was not lying. 

“Okay, then why? I know that you loved your hair plenty, and the previous day, you showed no signs of wanting to cut it.” 

Lily sighed. “It’s… complicated.” 

“That’s a non-answer.” 

“Ugh, you aren’t going to give up, are you? Well, it is because I felt guilty.” 

I snort. “Guilty about being Princess? Sure.” 

“I may not have shown it, but I did. It was eating me up on the inside.” 

“Okay.” 

“Matt, don’t you pretend that you do not understand. Every time we, well, slept, I could see a bit of hesitation on your end. I could tell that you felt a bit guilty about cheating on Elle, even if sleeping with the Princess is the norm.” 

Lily was not entirely wrong. I do not respond. 

“Here is what I think – the system is fucked. All it does is damages marriages and by extension us, the people. Sure, we could have moved away from this by literally shifting places, Mark and I, but we like the place otherwise. I want the system to come to an end, Matt. Because I know that as long as it exists, we will all participate, giving in to our desires, myself included. And people like Mark, and now you, will suffer.” 

Lily takes a sip from her drink. We had been intimate many times before, but this conversation involved a different kind of intimacy that we never entered into before. Lily is probably feeling the same way, and so, she sets down her glass and leaves. 

In a twisted way, Lily has just given me the reassurance that I needed. 

 

 

 

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It is midnight. The party has come to an end, but not all the guests have gone back. In the bedroom are Elle and eight other men. She has slept with multiple before, but eight is high even by her own standards. 

I stand outside the door, waiting, until the noises have settled down. There was a lot of noise, alright – natural given the number of participants, and with Elle at the center. After I’m confident that all nine have fallen asleep, I take a deep breath, and enter the room with my master key. 

The room, which was only a year ago a place only for me and Elle, is a mess. Elle is asleep in the center, with three others around her, all of them naked. The other five are on the floor, with two asleep with their hands around their dicks. Revolting. 

I tiptoe myself through the fallen soldiers and towards the bed. It was not visible before, but now it’s clear, even in the darkness. Elle’s golden hair, strewn across her body and the hands of the three that sleep on the bed, in a tangled mess. 

Until this point, I was only filled with nervousness and a bit of guilt. But now, with the treasure on display right before me, I feel something else. My cock struggles against my pants. 

I take out the metaphorical poison dart that I bought at Ray’s store out of my pocket. I unwrap the wrapping, and pop it into my mouth. 

Chewing gum. 

I chew and chew until I’m satisfied. I lean over the bed, hoping to get as close as I can to Elle’s nape. Then, without hesitation, I spit the gum onto her thick and beautiful hair that covers her neck. 

The deed is complete. I thought I’d feel guilty, but the disgusting man I am, I instead, on getting out of the bedroom, go straight to the bathroom, and masturbate. 

 

 

 

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“Where are you off to?” I ask. 

It is the afternoon of the next day. The eight guys who were a part of Elle’s gangbang had left a long while ago. 

“Oh, nothing, just off to the town for some stuff.” 

Elle is dressed in a modest top and jeans. Her hair is in a giant bun. She has done a remarkable job of hiding the gum. 

“To shop? I can come with, help you with the bags.” 

“I’m actually… going to get a haircut.” 

I pretend to act surprised. “What? No way. Why?” 

“Well, summer is coming, and I thought I’d try something new.” 

Elle is a terrible actor. 

“Really? You’re cutting your hair because of the summer? C’mon Elle, I know you too well to believe that you would never do that.” 

The facade breaks. Elle buries her face in her hands, and sobs. She explains about the gum in her hair, and how she has no idea how it got there. She suspects that one of the guys she slept with did it. I ask her not to go too hard on them, and that it could have simply been an accident, with her laying her head on a place that had the gum. 

What’s marvelous is that she does not seem to suspect me at all. 

“Y’know what, Elle, maybe you don’t need to go the salon. How about I cut your hair for you?” 

Elle eases up. A sense of relief washes over her. She clearly loathed the additional embarrassment of having to go to Amelia’s shop, and become the subject of the village gossip. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. Anything for my dear wife.” 

A chair is set up in the center of the living room. Elle sits. I take my spot behind her, and examine the damage. 

“What do you think? How much needs to be cut?” 

“Elle…” 

“How much?” 

“Elle, the gum is at your nape. I’m afraid that we need to remove all of it.” 

“All of it?” 

I grab the clipper, and I turn it on. “Yes, all of it.” 

Elle gasps, but does not protest. She likely already considered the worst. 

I look at her hair. Her beautiful blonde curls, bouncy and gorgeous even in its messy state. With all the problems between the two of us, I had forgotten just what a marvelous head of hair Elle has. 

“Your hair is stunning.” 

”Thanks, I know. I’ll miss it” 

“Me too.” 

Her voice cracks. “I don’t think people would see me the same way once it’s gone.” 

“You have a beautiful face.” 

Elle laughs. “Sure, but tell me really. Would I be less attractive to you once I lose my hair?” She turns toward me, expecting an answer. 

”Well… I do terribly love your hair.” 

“You do?” 

”Yeah. It is one of the parts of you that I love the most.” 

”Wow, you never told me that.” 

Elle looks down. She sees my bulge. I turn red. 

“Jesus, you really do love my hair, huh?” 

”Uhm…” 

Elle’s tears recede and a smile grows on her face. Her hands pull down my pants, and my cock shoots forward. Her hands enclose around my dick, and she starts stroking it. 

Heat rises in my body. But, I keep myself from ejaculating too quickly. 

“Elle, do you know what a hair job is?” 

”A hair job?” 

I do not answer. I grab a chunk of her hair and wrap it around my dick. Elle understands what to do next. 

Elle’s hair around my dick overwhelms my senses, but do not distract me from observing the hungriness in her eyes. It is a hungriness that I had never seen in her towards me before. It makes me even harder. 

I think back to what has transpired over the past year. All the sleepless nights, when I’ve slept on the couch to the sound of men banging my wife. This mess of hair that is in front of me has been touched and grabbed and pulled by many, and it needs to be shorn off. 

I place the clippers at the front of Elle’s hairline, and drive it forward. I go slow with the first pass, watching closely as her thick curls separate from her head and fall down either side, leaving a patch of bareness. The succeeding passes, however, were anything but slow, as I’m overcome with a rush of adrenaline. 

When I’m finished, Elle rushes to the bathroom. I hear a scream – she had likely expected a better result. The scream was followed by intense sobbing. 

I look down at my body. It is covered in Elle’s hair. There is hair on my shoulders, across my body, on my dick, across my legs, and on the floor. 

I lie on the floor. What a wonderful day.