Sleep-Deprived

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Sleep-Deprived

 

By Dreadlocks

 

Andrea was desperate. For whatever reason, she had been unable to sleep for the past few nights. It was beginning to take its toll, at home and at work. She worked for a high-power attorney, and the pressures that were placed upon her as a paralegal were far above anything she had experienced before.

“Sandy, I don’t know what I’m going to do?” She cried to her sister, who had always had a sympathetic ear for her sibling’s problems. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in over a week, and I’m afraid I’m going to make a horrible mistake at work.”

“I told you before Andie, you should just quit that job. There are always positions open for experienced paralegals.” Sandy suggested, and not for the first time.

“But the pay is so much better here. I’ve gotten used to having things that I normally couldn’t afford.” Andrea sighed.

“Listen, my dear sister, things are just that, things. Your health on the other hand, once that’s gone, things don’t matter all that much.”

“I know you’re right, Sandy, but I’m just going to have to find a way to make this work.” Andrea hung up the phone with her sister, no closer to an answer for her issues.

Out of options, and frightened by the prospect of losing her job, Andrea finally broke down and called her doctor. “I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Phillips, please.” There was a bit of silence, melded with typing and the background noise that a busy medical office always seemed to have.

“Well, Ms. Allen, you’re in luck. The doctor had a cancellation for tomorrow at three o’clock. How does that work?” The receptionist asked.

“That’ll be fine. I’ll just have to leave work a little early. I’ll take the appointment.” Andrea wondered just how she was going to convince her boss to let her go early. It was just going to have to happen.

“Steven Forge, attorney at law, how can I help you?” Andrea was often relegated to secretary when her assistant, Cynthia, was out sick. Unfortunately, this was one of those days, which made ducking out early, that much more problematic.

“Mr. Forge?” Andrea popped her head through the door, and her boss was on the phone, a continuous state of being for him. He raised a finger, indicating the chair opposite his desk. After a few moments, and listening in to a conversation with which she was all too familiar, Steven was finally off the phone.

“How can I help?” He asked.

“I have a doctor’s appointment for this afternoon, and I was hoping that I could leave a little early, so that I might go.” She explained.

“Everything alright, Andrea?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, thanks, just a little female problem.” She returned, knowing, like most men, he would back off immediately.

“Well, of course you can go. I’ll just have to pick up the slack for a couple of hours. I’ll manage.” He said, gruffly.

Andrea knew he was a little put out, but she really needed to address this sleep thing, before it really became a problem.

Sitting in her car inside the parking ramp, Andrea pulled the clips from her hair, allowing it to fall down her back. They almost always gave her a headache, the sheer length of her hair not helping one bit. She’d often entertained the idea of a shorter style, but just couldn’t get past the idea of losing her glorious blonde mane.

She arrived just before her appointment time, and was quickly ushered into the back and placed in a small examination room. It was your typical exam room, with a padded bench covered in the obligatory white rolled paper. A pillow was covered in a paper case and looked no more comfortable than the bench. Various posters graced the walls, touting this medication or that, and some, simply anatomical charts.

A knock on the door, and the wiry older gentleman entered. “Good afternoon. Ms. Allen?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you for seeing me, Doctor.” Andrea answered.

After a perfunctory physical exam, he asked the obvious question. “What brings you in today, Andrea.”

“I’m having trouble sleeping.” She admitted. “I’m in a high-stress job, and lately, I just can’t seem to relax.”

“Well, the obvious answer would be to eliminate the stressor, but I have a feeling that’s not why you’re here.” The doctor surmised.

“I need something to help me sleep, Doctor,” Andrea admitted, ashamed.

“Well. There are a couple of suggestions I can make, but why don’t we cut right to the chase, as it were. Aside from the over-the-counter supplements, such as Melatonin, there are the hypnotics. The most commonly prescribed of those is Ambien.”

“I’ve heard of that. Can I try it?” She asked.

“Tell you what I’ll do. I can write you a prescription for a fifteen-day supply. We’ll start at five milligrams, and see how that goes.” The doctor offered.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She gushed.

“I will warn you, that if you start to have any issues with doing things in your sleep, such as eating or even driving, you have to stop the mediation immediately.” He warned.

“You mean like sleepwalking?” Andrea asked.

“This is more than just sleepwalking. This is why they are called hypnotics. You can act in an entirely autonomous fashion, and not be aware of what you are doing.”

“Does this happen a lot?” She asked.

“No. Fortunately that side effect is rare, but it is serious. Keep that in mind as you start.” He suggested.

That evening, Andrea popped the little oval tablet an hour before she went to bed, and to her amazement, she slept soundly through the entire night. She hadn’t felt so good in nearly a month. It was a miracle.

During the day, she couldn’t help but be annoyed by a slight irritation on her shoulder. At times it itched, and others it burned. Too busy to address it, she went on with her day.

That evening as she undressed for a shower, she decided to take a look at whatever this irritation was. To her absolute shock and horror, a small dragon now adorned the back of her shoulder, resting on the crest of her shoulder blade. “Holy shit!” She screamed, adjusting the mirror for a better look. She had never even considered getting a tattoo in her life, and here one now adorned her shoulder.

“A dragon? Why a dragon?” She asked herself. The work was good, at least, and the stylized creature seemed to mold itself to the natural curve of her shoulder. “Well, no more strapless gowns for me.” She resigned, ignoring the obvious elephant in the room. How did it get there?

         Andrea knew damned well what had happened. The exact thing her doctor had warned her about. She must have gotten up and gone out, still asleep for all intents and purposes, and had somebody ink this thing on her body. “God, what else did I do?” She said out loud, as she stripped and did a thorough head to toe. Thankfully that was it, and she was almost relieved.

Later, she sat at her kitchen table, eyeing the small oval pill, and wondering if the risk was worth the reward. That day, she couldn’t remember performing better, or feeling more refreshed. Without any further ado, she swallowed the tablet and headed for bed.

Waking up with her alarm, Andrea again felt wonderfully refreshed. She padded into the bathroom and flopped down on the toilet only to realize that the marble tiled floor was strewn with silky blonde strands. Stopping herself midstream, she flew to the mirror, only to confirm her worst nightmare.

Andrea’s waist-length hair was now only just brushing her shoulders. Her eyes grew wide with astonishment at the sight. It was not a good job, either. One side was significantly shorter than the other.

Desperate, she called her sister. “Sandy, you have to help me!” Andrea wailed.

“What the hell, Andie.”

“I cut my hair in my sleep! I have to get to work. Can you please, please, come over and straighten out this mess.” She begged.

“Hang on, Sis, I’ll be there in twenty.” Sandy hung up, wondering what on earth her big sister had done. Sandy, once a hairdresser, had given up the profession after she got married and had children. There just wasn’t the time. She often wished that she could open her own shop one day, but for now, that would simply have to remain a dream.

Andrea sadly began cleaning up the long strands of her hair that littered the bathroom floor. With each handful, she had to fight back tears, depositing it like so much trash into the wastepaper basket.

She got ready, as usual, with the exception of her hair. She looked at the clock. An hour. She had an hour before she had to be at work. “Twenty minutes, drive time, shit, Sandy, where…”

There was a knock on her door and she dashed to answer it. “Can you fix this in twenty minutes?” Andrea asked.

“Andrea Lea, what on earth?” Sandy exclaimed, regarding the chopped blonde mess that replaced her glorious locks. “I can, but it’s not going to be pretty.”

“What do you mean? It has to be at least presentable.” Andrea pleaded.

“Oh, it will look okay, it’s just going to be short,” Sandy admitted.

“Short? How short?” Andrea panted.

“You haven’t seen the back, have you?” Sandy grabbed a hand mirror and held it up so her sister could see what she had done. The back was cut clear to her hairline.

“Oh…my…god!” Andrea sobbed.

“We’re talking chin-length bob, honey, and I may need to do an undercut in the back.” What she didn’t tell her was that the cut would probably make her look a lot less commanding.

Andrea threw up her hands, resigned. “Okay, just get started.”

As Sandy began to lop off the front of her sister’s hair, she couldn’t help herself. “What on earth possessed you to do this, Andie?”

“It’s this damned drug the doctor put me on. Ambien.” Andrea explained. “I’m doing things in my sleep.” Andrea pulled the collar of her blouse open to reveal her other unconscious addition.

“You got a tattoo? You, my conservative big sister, got a tattoo. It’s cute, sort of.” Sandy leaned in closer.

“I didn’t do it consciously. I just woke up with it…on me.” Andrea sighed.

“You definitely need to get off this shit. What’s next, you know?”

Sandy continued to snip away at her sister’s hair, and it kept getting shorter and shorter, much to Andrea’s dismay.

“Does it have to be that short?” She asked.

“Look, sweetie, I’m the hairdresser here. Just sit still unless you want to be late for work.” Sandy warned. But when the whine of the small battery-operated clippers filled the bathroom, Andrea freaked.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you. Undercut.” Sandy slipped the clippers into the hair at Andrea’s nape, essentially shaving it down to a number one. She probably ran the clippers a little higher than she needed to, but she figured her sister deserved it for what she had done to her hair. Finally, the clippers fell silent. “All done.”

“Great, ‘cause I’ve got to go. Can you let yourself out, Sis? Thanks.” Andrea gave her sister a kiss on the cheek and sprinted for the door.

Sandy had to admit that Andrea really rocked the bob, as young as it made her look, and hoped that she didn’t hate her for it later.

Of course, everyone at the firm was shocked by what Andrea had done to her hair. At the same time, they admired her for her courage in doing it, saying that she looked good. It was not as professional looking as her updo, but it still passed the grade. Steven Forge was especially impressed with the new look, saying that he would love to see her go even shorter.

That, of course, had Andrea puzzled, but her day was too busy to even think about his comment. Still, as refreshed and awake as she was, she began to appreciate her new look more, and more, as the day went on.

She found that her fingers had a hard time staying away from the bristly hairs on the back of her head, which seemed to go a long way beyond where the bob was cut. In the restroom, she lifted the back, revealing just how much of her hair Sandy had shaved. Nearly half of the back of her head was next to bald, her knobby occipital bone skinned closer than the rest, glowing white through the stubble.

“Jesus.” She sighed aloud, but quite taken aback by the moisture that she felt between her labia. She was horribly aroused. Slipping into the stall, Andrea lowered her slacks and panties, allowing her fingers to slide into her moist folds. Her other hand was busy with the stubble on the back of her head, which had suddenly become a source of excitement for her.

“What the fuck am I doing?” She asked herself, realizing where she was. She quickly dressed herself and washed her hands, straightening her hair as best she could.

“That’s quite the undercut,” Cynthia remarked, her assistant of two years noticed. She unexpectedly ran her fingers up under Andrea’s bob, giggling with the extent of the cut. “Wow, Ms. Allen.” Cynthia smirked. “That’s pretty bold for around here.”

Andrea watched as Cynthia walked back to her desk, and for whatever reason, she felt as though she had surrendered herself by allowing her assistant the liberty of touching her that way; of knowing something so intimate. Cynthia looked back at her, and Andrea could feel a change. It frightened her a little, but it also fed her arousal.

By the end of the day, it was fairly obvious that there had been a serious shift in dynamics between Cynthia and herself. It all became very apparent when they were leaving the office that day. Andrea and Cynthia often left the office together, and that day was no different. What was different was when Cynthia arrived at the door and waited for Andrea to open it for her. That simple act spelled out the way things would be going from then on.

To her complete relief, Andrea woke up the following morning with nothing untoward done to her person. She hadn’t cut her hair, nor had she gone out and done anything rash. “Maybe I was just getting used to the medication.” She surmised.

At the office, however, the relationship with her assistant was starting to become problematic. Andrea had never been attracted to women before, but for some reason, she really found the way Cynthia was treating her around the office stimulating. To make things even more uncomfortable, Cynthia had just obtained her paralegal certification, and was only waiting for the right opening. The fact that she was Andrea’s assistant was merely a technicality.

Steven Forge was well aware of this, and Andrea swore that he would play them off each other at times. The fact that Andrea was Cynthia’s superior only through a chronological chain of command, didn’t seem to matter to him.

Now, Andrea was finding herself forced to take second fiddle to Cynthia, who would seem to be in the right place at the right time, as it were. Assignments that she would normally take, Cynthia was taking. By the end of that day, Andrea was feeling more like Cynthia’s assistant.

To top it off, Andrea just couldn’t seem to say no to Cynthia. Had a simple, but somewhat humiliating haircut been the source of this power shift? Each time Cynthia would ask her to do something, Andrea’s sex would just vibrate deliciously.

By the sixth day, Andrea realized that whatever reaction she had had to the Ambien had subsided, but had the damage been done? Previously, when she had the long blonde hair, even up, it was a point of authority. No one questioned her superiority, especially Cynthia. Now that she sported this abbreviated bob, it not only made her feel submissive; it made her appear submissive as well.

The thing that really got to Andrea was how attracted she seemed to be, especially when Cynthia exerted her newfound authority over her. The more powerful Cynthia became, the more smitten Andrea seemed to be.

The real shocker came on Monday morning when she found all her things in a box on top of what used to be Cynthia’s desk. When she approached what used to be her small but adequate office, she found Cynthia seated there.

“Ah, Andrea, I see you’ve discovered our new seating arrangements,” Cynthia smirked. “I trust you have no objections?”

“No, Cyn… Ms. Parker. This was expected, I think.” Andrea sighed, submissively, unable to keep her fingertips from sliding up under her hair and feeling that strip of tonsured stubble.

“Steven felt it was best. Of course, your salary will be adjusted accordingly, as will mine. You’ll be reporting directly to me, from now on. Is that understood, Andrea?”

“Yes, of course, Ms. Parker.” Andrea cowed.

“Good, good.” Cynthia stopped to look at her new ‘servant’. “I do so love that haircut, Andrea.” She paused to gauge Andrea’s reaction, which was every bit as subservient as she suspected. Again, the fingertips caressing her neck.

“Thank you, Ms. Parker.” Andrea realized where her hand was, and quickly brought it back to her side.

“I’m thinking something a bit shorter next time?” Cynthia suggested. “You know, why don’t we go to lunch today. There’s this little barbershop in the lobby, downstairs.” Cynthia’s smile widened as she contemplated her newfound power.

“Barbershop? But Ms. Parker…”

“Now, now. I’ll have no argument from you, young lady. You work for me now.” Cynthia chided.

Andrea was actually concerned that her pussy was going to start leaking down the inside of her thighs, so peaked was her arousal at that point. “No, Ms. Parker.”

“Come in and close the door, Andrea.” Cynthia indicated the chair where she had taken so many notes. Now it was Andrea’s turn.

As Andrea went to sit, Cynthia shook her head. “Kneel, Andrea.”

Every single hair on Andrea’s body stood straight up, and she felt as though she might faint. Placing her hands on the edge of her old desk, she lowered herself until she was kneeling before her new boss. As a final gesture of submission, Andrea lowered her eyes.

“I love how complaint you are. Now, I want to get things quite clear between us.” Cynthia said in a commanding tone. “I know how you feel about me, Andrea. I know that you just love this power I have over you. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Ms. Parker,” Andrea admitted, almost painfully.

“And, I love the way you have submitted thus far. Surely you know that we are only just beginning.” Cynthia grinned.

All Andrea could do was nod. She was powerless. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, and she was absolutely powerless to this girl. At last, the juice that was flooding her panties began to seep down her legs. The last testament to her subjugation.

Cynthia stood and walked around her desk, towering over her new charge. She leaned down, grasping Andrea’s chin in her fingers and kissed her, long, wet and forcefully. “I can’t wait for lunch.” Andrea stood after being dismissed, but was stopped at the door. “Go clean yourself up, Andrea. I can smell you from here. Do not, I repeat, do not masturbate.” Cynthia had ordered it, so matter-of-factly, that it took Andrea off guard.

“No Ms. Par… No Mistress.” Andrea relented, her head bowed.

“Wonderful.”

Andrea realized that her demotion was not a surprise to anyone in the firm, least of all, Mr. Forge.

“I was hoping you would understand, Andrea. Cynthia is just better qualified for the job now. Oh, and I’ll be needing your notebook and your key.” It was a final blow, losing access to the office. Her new position afforded her no such privileges.

Lunch came all too soon for Andrea, and she was dreading whatever Ms. Parker had in store for her. She had seen the little one-chair barbershop in the lobby but had never paid much attention to it. She did know that none of the attorneys in the firm went there.

After a quick lunch, which Andrea barely touched, she was guided back to their building and into the little barbershop, that was little more than a glorified closet.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” An older man said, looking up from his newspaper. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, we aren’t lost,” Cynthia affirmed. “My assistant needs a haircut.”

“I don’t normally cut women’s hair.” The man warned, earnestly.

“That’s alright. She doesn’t need anything special. As a matter of fact, I think a nice short crewcut will suit her just fine.” Cynthia’s lips curled into an evil smile, which she directed at a horrified Andrea.

“Oh, now come on, ladies. Is this some sort of prank?” He asked, chuckling.

“No prank. Now, we need to be back in the office in ten minutes. Can we get started?” Cynthia scowled, as she directed Andrea into the chair, manually.

Reluctantly, the man caped the terrified girl in his chair, turning to Cynthia in a final gesture. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, the shortest thing you can still call a crewcut!” Cynthia insisted, forcefully.

Jumping at Cynthia’s aggressive tone, he quickly rested one of several clippers which hung beneath a counter and flipped it to life. Shaking his head, he began in the back, where all Andrea’s problems originated.

Andrea felt the cold bare metal of the clippers against her neck moving quickly upwards until they traversed her crown. Hair began to tumble onto the floor as a small group of people gathered outside the shop to watch, halted by the spectacle. Soon, Andrea could feel the cold air against the back of her head as the barber began to clip the sides to the same minuscule length.

“You know, why don’t you just run those over her entire head. We’re out of time.” Cynthia commanded.

Flustered, the barber did as he was told. Placing the bare blades at Andrea’s forehead, he peeled back all that remained of her once-glorious blonde mane. Five passes and it was all over, to the cheers of the small crowd that watched from the lobby.

Andrea was beyond humiliated. She sat there as the barber slipped the cape away from her shoulders, and the rest of her hair slithered to the floor. She was bald, and in shock.

“Come on. Lunch is over, Andrea.” Cynthia insisted.

Not believing what had just happened, Andrea simply followed blindly into the elevator behind her new Mistress. How had it come to this? A week ago, she was a blonde goddess, with the world at her fingertips. Now, had been reduced to a mere secretary, shaved of all her hair, and subservient to… well, Cynthia was better than her after all.

A month later, and after losing her job, Andrea sat naked in her penthouse apartment. Well, it was hers, until Cynthia had moved in. All that was once hers now belonged to her Mistress. She had signed over everything, car, bank accounts, everything. Cynthia had insisted on a guardianship, almost at once. Now, Andrea was as powerless as a child, totally hairless, and a slave to the woman who had proven to be her better. The only possession Andrea was allowed to keep was sealed in a plexiglass cube. Seven small white tablets sat suspended in the plastic, a constant reminder of how she got there.

 

 

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