Stacey and Claire Break the Rules
Stacey sat looking at herself in the mirror, her freshly washed chestnut hair falling around her shoulders in water-slicked strands. She loosened the towel, allowing it to fall away from her ample breasts and bunch around her feet on the tile floor.
Gathering it together, Stacey pulled it up and back tightly, gripping it against her scalp at the crown, admiring what she saw. Her ears were fully exposed, her long slender jaw with nothing to hide it, and her eyes full and open.
“If only… oh, fuck it.” Stacey allowed the hair to fall back into place, everything hidden once again, as it always had been, and always would be, if her husband had anything to say about it.
Stacey faced a dilemma that was all too common. She was a girl who wanted short hair, married to a man who loved long hair. The thing was, she really didn’t want to disappoint him. Nevertheless, she constantly fantasized about having all that lovely hair cut off. At times she even imagined having it shaved off, completely.
And so, Stacey resorted to the only outlet available to her, the internet. A veritable treasure trove of material concerning the fetish was at her fingertips, from erotic fiction to graphic videography, portraying women as their hair was removed, either willingly, or by force.
As she explored her fantasy, she discovered more about herself. Not only was her fetish for haircutting stroked, but she soon discovered that her interests were more diverse. Stacey certainly loved the haircutting and shaving, but also the humiliation and degradation that went along with it. The humiliation endured as their hair was removed as well as the embarrassment felt by the women as they revealed themselves shorn and bereft of their locks. This was the path Stacey found herself traversing.
Soon, it was not enough that she read these stories, and eventually, her inventive mind created its own. She began jotting down her ideas until finally, she wrote her first short story. It was rewarding to see so many people enjoying her efforts, but one person caught her attention. She was another author on the site, and her name was Claire.
Stacey had been reading Claire’s stories for some time and was thrilled to find that she too enjoyed her writings. Little did she know that Claire was equally pleased to see Stacey enjoyed her own work, reading her comments with admiration.
Soon, the two seemed on equal footing, both producing wonderfully erotic stories, and feeding off one another’s encouragement. This… was only the beginning.
It was not long after they had begun corresponding, that Claire announced that she may well be traveling to Europe, and in particular, England, where she had been born and raised.
Imaginations were peaked, as they planned when Claire would arrive. How might the two get on? It was one thing to write stories and communicate through emails. It was quite another to meet in person.
Stacey knew that Claire was considerably older than she was, but the photograph she had shared enticed her. Claire had been lucky enough to be in a relationship where how she wore her hair was her own business. So, not long before, Claire had had her already short blonde hair shorn to the skin.
There was another question that nagged at Stacey. She knew from their communication, that Claire was a lesbian, and in a seemingly happy marriage. Still, she couldn’t help but find the woman attractive, and not in a strictly platonic sense. Claire tickled something inside her that she was reluctant to admit. She was married, happily, to a wonderful man, and yet the feelings persisted.
Claire too was taken by the vibrant young brunette, conjuring all sorts of ideas. She hated the idea of being unfaithful, but it would not have been the first time, for either of them. Claire set about putting everything in motion.
At last, the date was set. Claire was going to be arriving in London the following week, and both women were nervous about their inevitable meeting. Claire had something up her sleeve but wasn’t going to share her ideas until they had become acquainted. She had asked Stacey to take a little time off.
They were to meet at a rather non-descript pub, not far from Stacey’s home. Claire had rented a car, and only hoped that she could remember how to keep left. At least she had insisted on an automatic, as shifting was something she was never very good at.
Stacey arrived first, sitting nervously at a table, sipping at a pint of bitter and hoping it would take the edge off. When the tall blonde stepped through the door, there was no mistaking her. Even though she had allowed her hair to grow into a shaggy crew cut, Stacey knew it was Claire.
Claire noticed Stacey right away, even without the small wave to call her over. Stopping at the bar, Claire specified that she wanted whatever the brunette at the table was drinking. Her heart was in her throat as she approached.
“I knew it was you, right away.” Stacey smiled, as Claire took a seat opposite her at the small table.
“And how could I have missed that beautiful smile of yours.” Claire mused, sipping the beer, and licking the foam from her upper lip.
The action only served to whet Stacey’s unbridled admiration of the woman, and she sensed her arousal immediately. This wasn’t something she was expecting so quickly. She only hoped that Claire wouldn’t notice the slight flush of her skin.
Claire raised an eyebrow, seeing the change in Stacey’s countenance, the very thing she had hoped she could hide. Claire had sensed something in their correspondence, but now her suspicions were confirmed. “It’s lovely to meet you, at last, Stacey.”
The two seemed to fall right into each other, their conversation skirting the issue of their shared fetish, until Stacey broke the ice. “You’ve let your hair grow in.”
“Busy, you know. I just finished up the novel I’ve been struggling with over the past six months. Why, would you like to steal it from me?”
Stacey imagined running a set of clippers through Claire’s overgrown crop, and she knew there would be no hiding her arousal at the thought of it. She struggled with what to say, and was completely shocked by what actually did come out. “What I’d like is for you to steal mine from me.” Tugging at her long chestnut mane.
“I’m fairly certain I can arrange that.” Claire giggled, taking another sip from her glass of bitter. “We could take turns, you know, you do me, and then I’ll do you.” Claire blushed, realizing the implications of her suggestion.
“I could never. My husband would kill me.” Stacey sulked.
“I think he’d get over it, once he saw you ‘uncovered’.” Claire smiled.
“I don’t know, Claire. He’s always been adamant about me keeping my hair long.” Stacey sat back into her chair, regarding Claire and her short blonde crop, enviously. “I wish things were different.”
“I have a plan, my friend. You did manage to get some time off?” Claire hoped.
“Three days was all I could manage.” Stacey wondered what Claire might have had planned, and was certain that it was something that would land her in a heap of trouble.
“Perfect. You and I are heading for Paris.” Claire decided.
“Paris! Oh, I couldn’t. Paris?” Stacey admonished.
“Why not? You said you’ve got three days, right?” Claire insisted.
“What on earth am I going to tell my husband?” Stacey asked.
“Tell him that you and I are going on a lady’s holiday and that you’ll be back on Sunday.” Claire finished her beer and waited for Stacey’s response.
Everything inside said she should run away from her, but something else was pulling Stacey towards the very thing that she knew she had to avoid. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, torn between her desires and her responsibilities. “Fine.” She finally said.
“Good. We have tickets for tonight from Waterloo.” Claire informed her.
“We do?” Stacey knew then that this was not a spur-of-the-moment idea. This had been planned all along.
“You better pack a few things, Stacey.” Pausing for a moment. “On second thought, let’s just leave now, and we’ll buy everything when we get there,” Claire smirked.
Stacey was put off a bit by the extravagance of the idea. It just seemed ludicrous to drop everything and leave. “I have to tell him I’m going, at least.”
Claire held up her mobile, wagging it back and forth. “That’s what these are for.”
Stacey was in a state of disbelief. One moment, she was meeting a woman who was essentially a stranger, and now she was heading out of the country with her, with only what she was wearing and her bag. For a minute or two, she honestly thought about calling off the entire thing. She’d never done anything so irresponsible in her entire life.
It all settled into a knot in the pit of her stomach as the light disappeared and they were under the channel. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Stacey sighed, almost afraid to look Claire in the eye.
“Don’t be glum, Stacey. This is going to be so much fun. Just wait and see.” Claire laid her head back on the ample headrest, and Stacey did the same, allowing her eyes to close.
Claire smiled when Stacey’s hands flew to her head, a mixture of relief and disappointment on her face. “That must have been some dream.”
“It’s not a new one,” Stacey admitted. “All but one thing. You.”
“Did I shave off all that lovely hair of yours?” Claire asked, running her fingers through her own disheveled crop.
Stacey coloured, blushing as she recalled the dream. It was a beautiful dream, and it wasn’t all about her being shaved either. “You did, and a bit more.”
“I see. Well, we’ll have to see about that.” Claire said, mischievously.
They made small talk as the train emerged from the tunnel, the French countryside whistling by outside. The sun had only just set, and the sky was a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges.
“Beautiful.” Claire sighed, resting her head against the window.
“Nothing, compared to you.” Stacey wasn’t sure if she had said it out loud. She hoped she hadn’t, but the smile on Claire’s face said that she had heard it loud and clear.
Having left the car in London, the two hired a taxi at the station. Claire seemed to know exactly where she was going. It wound through the streets of Paris, finally turning onto an avenue off the Champs-Élysées and into the entranceway to a small hotel.
“Where are we?” Stacey asked.
“Just a little hotel I enjoy. I made reservations a few days ago.” Claire admitted.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t come?” Stacey asked, curiously.
“It would have been a much lonelier adventure.” Claire sighed. “But, you did come, so let’s not speak of that.”
The place was not particularly opulent, but it was certainly beautiful and well-appointed. Their room was not what Stacey had expected, especially when she saw the single king-sized bed. “Where am I going to sleep?” Stacey asked, logically.
“Well, if you’re not comfortable sleeping with me, then the sofa pulls out.” Claire indicated a rather comfortable-looking duvet that did not look like it had a bed hiding inside.
Stacey wondered what Claire must have been thinking. Did she really expect Stacey to sleep with her? Thinking about it gave her all sorts of interesting feelings, but actually doing it was another thing entirely.
It was just early enough for the two to enjoy an intimate meal at the hotel’s restaurant, which seemed quite fine. It wasn’t a surprise to find the food quite tasty, and the service top shelf.
They were about halfway through the main course when a rather striking-looking woman sat down with them at one of the available chairs. It was her appearance that took Stacey by surprise, being completely bald.
“Claire, mon Cheri, it’s been an absolute age.” The woman spoke with a French accent, but her English was perfect. “I’ve just picked up your latest, but haven’t turned a page.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy it when you do.” Claire indicated Stacey. “This is my friend, Stacey. Stacey this is Arabella.”
“Lovely to meet you. Any friend of Claire’s, well…” She turned towards Claire and said without a thought. “I do hope you’ll be my guests at Fouets et Chaînes tomorrow night.”
Claire looked at Stacey and smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your food.” She looked at Claire and her expression went from one of joviality to an almost evil grin. “Tu seras à moi, Claire, alors prépare-toi. Peut-être que votre petite copine peut participer, oui ?” And with that, the bald woman disappeared into an adjoining room.
When Stacey looked back at Claire, her face was bright red. “What was that all about?”
For a moment, Claire seemed reticent to share what the woman had said, but realized it was impolite not to share. “Arabella has invited us to a rather exclusive club, tomorrow night.” Claire hesitated. “Apparently, she plans on having her way with me.”
“What kind of place is this?” Stacey asked.
“Fouets et Chaînes? Um… it’s an S&M club.” Claire admitted in a whisper.
“Oh my God, really?” Stacey’s shock was only matched by her curiosity. Never in a million years had she ever imagined going to such a place. “Fouets et Chaînes?”
“Whips and Chains.” Claire sighed, knowingly. Suddenly, it was Stacey’s turn to blush.
Stacey had all sorts of images flying through her head that night as she attempted to sleep on the fold-out bed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but she imagined how nice it would be in the luxurious king, next to Claire, who was already fast asleep.
She didn’t remember moving, but when she woke up, she found herself in the large bed, alone. Claire must have risen early. At least she had spared Stacey the embarrassment of having to explain why she was there.
A knock on the door brought Stacey to her feet, and towards the large set of French doors that led to the suite. Looking through the peephole, she saw Claire, her arms full of what appeared to be breakfast.
It was an impressive spread, with freshly baked croissant, whipped butter, and an assortment of jellies. Those combined with the kippers and eggs and a carafe of coffee, made for a feast.
“To be honest, I never much cared for kippers.” Stacey sighed, leaving the smoked herring on the plate.
“Well, I haven’t had them in years, and when I noticed they had them, I just couldn’t resist.” Claire grinned around a mouthful of the salty fish.
“As long as you brush your teeth after.” Stacey chortled.
“Why, are you planning on kissing me?” Claire proposed.
“No, but… I…”
“It’s alright, Stacey. I know how you are torn, right now.” Claire pointed out.
“Really? How can you be so sure?” Stacey admonished.
“I’m not blind, girl. You may be married to a guy, but you imagine yourself differently.” Claire sipped her coffee.
Stacey seemed at a loss for words, so she simply ate, enjoying the sumptuous croissant and coffee. After room service cleared their mess, Claire slipped into the shower, leaving Stacey alone, still dressed in her clothes from the day before; the same ones she had worn to the pub.
Stacey imagined Claire, naked, with the hot water running down her lithe figure, and it was everything she could do to stop herself from masturbating. Part of her longed to be in there with her, their slippery bodies sliding over one another. “Oh, God, what am I thinking?” Stacey said aloud, splashing some water on her face from the sink.
Stacey looked up at herself in the mirror, realizing suddenly, where she was, what she was doing. She fumbled in her bag, pulling out a small brush, which she relentlessly dragged through her long brown hair. It was a task to which she had been enslaved for years, but one she endured for her husband.
For a moment she thought about calling him, to straighten out her head. As if knowing that it would only deaden the mood, she slipped the phone back into her purse.
The day was spent shopping, eating, and drinking, and although Stacey had insisted upon paying her way, Claire had been stern, saying that this was all her doing, and therefore, at her expense.
Stacey almost forgot about their date with Arabella later that night, but was reminded all too keenly, when Claire asked her to wear the sexiest kit they had purchased for her that day. It left very little to the imagination, only equaled by the skimpy affair that Claire squeezed into.
They must have seemed quite the pair as they hurried through the hotel lobby, dressed in what might be misconstrued as inappropriate. Claire laughed as the taxi driver seemed nonplussed by their revealing attire, stating simply that ‘this is Paris, after all’.
The taxi turned onto a tiny alley off the Rue Saint Antoine, stopping at a rather non-descript building. Stacey had expected something a little flashier, but then, this was not your average club. As they made their way down the long hallway, they started to hear the pulse of music from above.
“Are you ready?” Claire asked, pressing the button on what seemed like a freight elevator.
Immediately upon exiting the lift, they were confronted by a tall man, impeccably dressed, but imposing by size alone. “Arrêt! Avez-vous une invitation?”
At which, Claire, and in perfect French responded, “Arabella m’a demandé de passer. Qu’y a-t-il Philippe, tu ne me reconnais pas?”
The man leaned in closer, and then cracked a smile, then a small laugh. “Claire. Your hair, it is not too short, no?” He chuckled, opening a large black door to a room best described as shocking.
Everywhere Stacey looked, there were women in various stages of undress, and to her amusement, not a single man in the place. Suddenly, what they were wearing seemed incredibly conservative, considering the multitude of scenes unfolding around them.
Through the sea of women, one, in particular, stood out and quickly made her way over to them, her hairless head gleaming under the coloured lights and ultraviolets. “Claire! You have arrived, and with your friend too!”
Suddenly, they were being whisked across the room and into a series of hallways. The air was laced with the scent of women’s arousal as they arrived in a small, lavish auditorium.
Stacey noticed the seats were slowly being filled as Claire and Arabella discussed something in French. Arabella was doing most of the talking, and almost obediently, Claire seemed only to be taking directions. Suddenly, Arabella disappeared behind a curtain, leaving Claire in a daze.
“Have a seat, Stacey. I have to go for a little while, but you’ll see me soon enough.” Without another word, Claire was gone, leaving Stacey alone, and very much out of sorts. She was gutted that Claire would leave her alone, but followed her direction, finding a seat down towards the front of the little theatre.
Without her asking, a drink was placed in her hand by a tall and very naked woman, brandishing a tray. Smelling the concoction, Stacey realized that it was only gin with a few other ingredients. Taking a sip, she knew she had better not have too many of them.
It wasn’t long after that the stage lit up, displaying a curtain drawn closed to the center. There was a small round of applause as the drapery split, revealing a box at the center. Someone was in the box, their head poking through a hole in the middle of the top.
Then her attention was drawn to Arabella, who strode onto the stage wearing a topless leather dress, looking very domineering indeed. Only then, did Stacey realize that the person inside the box, was Claire.
Stacey’s heart raced as she watched the tall bald Domina circle the box. Arabella slowly spun the wooden box, until it was all too apparent who it was inside. Claire’s mouth was filled with a red ballgag, distracting from her normally good looks, the strap pulling her lips tightly over the large red ball.
“Who thinks I should clean up this mess?” Arabella asked the audience, as she plucked at the blonde hair standing up at odd angles under the bright spot. There was a resounding response from the people around her, and Stacey found herself joining in the chant. “Rasez-la chauve, rasez-la chauve!”
Stacey looked at her friend, knowing how helpless she must have felt as the clippers appeared, apparently hidden within Arabella’s outfit. But, as the hair began to fall away from Claire’s head, she couldn’t help but wish that it was her in the box. She imagined that it was her head feeling the vibration of those sinister blades as they shaved so ruthlessly.
Arabella was forced to remove the gag, and it was then that Claire sought Stacey out, their eyes finally meeting as the last of her blonde hair fell to the top of the box. “That was far too easy, my lovely Claire. Let us finish the job.”
An assistant, who had been waiting offstage appeared with a small bowl and what looked like a straight razor. Setting them on the box, the lather was spread over Claire’s head, which from Stacey’s perspective already looked shiny bald.
Strip and after sensuous strip was cleaned from Claire’s head, the freshly shaved skin and moisture accentuating the glassy smooth surface under the lights. Stacey could feel the moisture between her legs as she watched, her eyes never leaving Claire’s as the razor was deftly wielded by the bald goddess.
There was a slight struggle as something unexpected seemed to be happening. Up until then, Claire had been compliant. It was when Arabella spread a small amount of lather over Claire’s brows, that she objected so adamantly.
Quickly, Arabella replaced the ball gag, stifling Claire’s protests. Only as the dangerously sharp blade came to rest against the top of her nose, did Claire give up the fight.
Stacey watched, in awe, as Claire lost her eyebrows. They were one of her most defining features, so high and perfectly groomed. Now, they were nothing but wispy filaments, mixed into the lather and rinsed off the blade into the bowl of water.
Claire looked so very different without them, but Stacey didn’t have long to appreciate the look. The box was suddenly opened, and a very naked Claire was helped out to the cheers of the audience, her total hairlessness so obviously humiliating for her. It would have been shocking enough to have been put through that in private, but in so public a venue, it must have been incredibly degrading.
Stacey tried to feel compassion regarding her friend’s plight, but all she felt was the most intense arousal. So, as Claire was attached to a cross, and wheeled to the center of the stage, all Stacey could do was stare. This was all so intense. Never had she seen anything to compare to what she had just witnessed.
Claire was spread, with nothing left to the imagination. Her hairless sex was on display, her pert breasts high on her chest as her arms were drawn up so tightly to the corners of the cross. Even her delightfully pink labia were spread open, as if in sympathy for the rest. All of this was only a few feet away.
All around her, Stacey noticed women making love. A set of fingers slid through the sparse curls of the girl directly next to her, and she honestly wished that someone would do the same for her.
For a second, her eyes met Claire’s, and there seemed to be a desperate cry within them. This had gone farther than Claire had hoped, but Stacey knew she was powerless to stop it.
Claire would not even have the protection Arabella might offer by standing between the audience and her naked form, as the whip landed against her breast. Claire’s tormentor stood behind the cross, allowing the cruel whip to wrap around her body and kiss her openly, as the audience watched without obstruction.
It was almost too much, and Stacey found herself having to look away as the red welts began to appear on Claire’s beautiful body. The gag still in place, Stacey wondered how Arabella would know when her victim might have suffered enough.
The moans became louder, as the whip began to find places it should not have been going. When the cruel tail fell across Claire’s open sex, it was all Stacey could do not to shout for Arabella to stop. Then, as if reading some universal sign, the whip fell silent, and Claire slumped into her bonds.
Arabella removed the ball gag, a line of drool finding its way from the corner of Claire’s mouth to the floor. Stacey thought the show was over, but the tormentor became the pleasurer. Arabella spread Claire’s sex with her gloved fingers, eliciting a moan from her as another found her breast, the white flesh now crisscrossed with red lines.
As erotic as the scene was, all Stacey felt was the most unexplained jealousy. She wanted to be the one doing this to Claire. She imagined the soft skin of her breast under her fingertips, and the silky smoothness of her sex wetting her fingers.
Claire was not ignorant of the look on Stacey’s face as Arabella toyed with her. Claire whispered something into her ear, and Arabella turned, staring directly at Stacey. Was she wanting her to go up there? Suddenly, the idea of doing something so incredibly erotic in front of all those people was too much.
Unable to watch as this woman had her way with Claire, but equally unable to be so brazenly public about it, Stacey ran from the auditorium. She didn’t look back until she was lost in the large room, the music blaring and lights flashing. She suddenly felt faint, but just as she was about to fall, a pair of arms wrapped around her.
The music pounded around them, as Claire held her, looking so entirely different. “I want to go.” Stacey managed, as Claire helped her back to her feet. Only then did Stacey notice that Claire was still completely naked. Still sporting the leather cuffs that had held her so helplessly to the cross, Claire stepped back and allowed her some space.
“Are you sure?” Claire asked, working at the cuffs with her fingers. All Claire saw in Stacey’s eyes was concern, as she eyed the myriad of welts that were slow to fade on her body.
“Are you okay?” Stacey asked.
Claire ran a fingertip over one of her missing eyebrows and winced. “Things went a little farther than I thought they might.”
“And that’s not what I’m talking about,” Stacey corrected. “I’m talking about all this.” Stacey inadvertently brushed Claire’s breast and nipple with her hand.
“It stings a little, but I’ve had worse.” Claire soothed. Suddenly Arabella was beside them, looking concerned.
“Claire, baby, did I take things too far?” She asked, earning a glare from Stacey.
“She didn’t want her eyebrows gone.” Stacey scolded, taking Claire by the arm and leading her away from the woman, remorse suddenly finding a way onto Arabella’s chiseled features. Stacey found them a seat in a booth, removing the rest of the cuffs from Claire’s ankles. “She’ll need her clothes.”
“Stacey. It’s alright. I’m okay, it was all good fun, you know.” Claire tried to explain.
Stacey didn’t say a word as she helped her friend on with her clothes, still shocked over what she had witnessed; still appalled over her own arousal as she watched. It was going to take a while before all this sank in.
As they rode back to their hotel, Stacey couldn’t keep her eyes away from Claire. Her change in appearance was strangely exotic. The baldness was absolute, and it made her look stark, almost alien, as she leaned her head against the window of the taxi.
“I’m sorry…, I really am sorry if all that was a bit over the top.” Claire apologized. “Things seem to have accelerated a little since I was here last.”
“It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…,” Stacey admitted, finally. She couldn’t bring herself to keep that from her friend. “ …at least until she started touching you.”
“I saw that, Stacey. I had no idea Arabella would be so intimate with me. I told her to stop.” Claire sighed, raising eyebrows she no longer had.
“As much as I wanted to touch you then, I could never; not in front of all those people.” Stacey looked over at Claire, still trying to cope with the change.
They garnered a few looks as they made their way through the hotel lobby, but it was Claire who seemed to be the object of their stares.
“You’re going to have to brush up on your skills with an eyebrow pencil,” Stacey commented, as Claire sulked in the bathroom mirror.
“I look like a freak.” Claire sighed, walking away in disgust.
“I shaved them off once,” Stacey admitted. “It took a minute, but with the right colour pencil, no one was the wiser.”
“Show me.” Claire dug in her bag, retrieving a blonde pencil and holding it up.
“This is brand new.” Stacey chortled, as she stripped the wrapper from the slender tool.
“Just in case. You never know what might happen.” Claire pointed out.
Stacey leaned in close, slowly applying the light-coloured pencil. Their faces were only inches apart as she worked, and an electricity passed between them. Stacey suddenly stopped drawing, the magnetism too great to resist. Their lips met, tentatively at first, then searchingly, tongues testing.
Stacey’s hands wandered up to Claire’s smoother than smooth head, and the kiss intensified, until the violence of it was bound to lead to more. Stacey pulled back, leaving a wanton look on Claire’s face as she did.
“Why did you stop?” Claire asked, pouting.
Lost for words for a second, Stacey stammered, “Because you’ve got one eyebrow and it looks a bit wonky.” They both chuckled at the image that met them in the mirror, but the heat between them was slow to simmer and then to cool.
Claire was incredibly impressed with how real the drawn-on brows appeared, complimenting Stacey on her skill. “No one would ever know.”
“Lot’s of practice, and by the way, I’ll know,” Stacey warned, enticingly.
“I’d leave them on, but, we’ve got to get some sleep.” With that Claire wiped away Stacey’s handiwork, appearing once again as the expressionless drone Arabella had made her.
“To be honest, I like you without them,” Stacey admitted, reticently.
“I think you enjoyed watching her take me down, didn’t you?” Claire asked, inquisitively.
All Stacey could manage was a nod, regarding Claire as she shed her clothes. The red welts had already begun to fade, save for one that slashed across her sex.
“You see, almost back to normal.” Claire ran a hand down her body, as if to shrug off the whipping she had received. But Stacey couldn’t get the image of her strapped so provocatively on the cross, and so very exposed.
Stacey tried not to imagine herself in Claire’s position on that stage, but the image was just too powerful, and she dreamt of that very thing.
She was strapped down, just as Claire had been, so naked, so exposed, the audience invisible, save for their eyes which all seemed to meet her own. Conspicuously missing was her long chestnut hair. ‘Had it been shaved off as Claire’s had been?’ Her hands were fastened high above, and her legs spread open, just as Claire’s had been. She laid her head back, allowing it to rest against the cool leather of the apparatus. She felt her skin stick to the cushioned plank, one smooth surface against the other. ‘My hair!”
She sat straight up in bed, realizing that she was naked, sleeping beside Claire, who was startled out of her slumber by Stacey’s dream. “Oh, my God.” Stacey sighed.
“You’ve been moaning for a while. I didn’t want to wake you in case…”
“…In case it was a good dream.” Stacey finished.
“Was it?” Claire sat up, regarding her.
“It was… and it wasn’t.” Stacey sighed.
“I want you to let me do something for you,” Claire suggested. “You’ve been dancing around this for so long, Stacey.”
“I want to, I do. I just can’t.” Stacey almost cried, the frustration more than evident in her expression. For a second, she wanted more than anything to be with Claire. There they were, in the same bed, both naked, and both so close that sex was almost an eventuality.
“One day, you’re going to cut it all off, Stacey. It’s only a matter of time. Wouldn’t it be better if it was with me?” Claire urged.
Stacey, unable to come to terms with her mixed emotions, turned away from Claire, hoping to sleep away the rest of the night.
The following morning, she was not all that surprised to find Claire awake and reading the morning newspaper. Breakfast was already laid out on the small table beside her. Not bothering with clothes, even though Claire was fully dressed, Stacey slipped into the chair beside her.
“I hope you’re not…”
“Don’t worry about it, Stacey. When you’re ready, you’ll do it, in spite of the risks.” Claire decided. She wasn’t cold, but the excitement had left the room the night before. Stacey, sensing the change, threw on a terrycloth robe and nibbled at the breakfast Claire had brought up.
“Please don’t be disappointed in me, Claire.” Stacey sighed.
“Stacey? Oh, my goodness, is that what you think? Nothing could be further from the truth, love.” Claire raised an artistically drawn eyebrow.
“Did you do those?” Stacey asked, thankful for Claire’s understanding.
Claire shook her head. “There’s a salon in the lobby.” Claire waggled them up and down, eliciting a chuckle from her friend. “They offered to re-shave my head as well, but I thought you might like to do that.”
Stacey’s heart did a flip, sending a charge of electricity directly to her clit, which immediately began to throb. “You would let me do that?”
“I insist.” Claire mused, indicating the shaving products stacked on the bathroom counter.
They moved as one to the bath, Claire stripping out of her top, and Stacey dropping the robe she had donned out of misconception.
“I’ve never done this before,” Stacey admitted, nervously.
“Nothing to it. I’ll help you.” Claire smiled, handing Stacey the shaving foam.
There was barely anything there, but the razor met resistance as Stacey slowly ran it back from Claire’s forehead. At Claire’s instruction, she used her fingertips to determine what needed to be shaved. All the while, Stacey’s sex was more than wet, her luscious scent filling the room. But when Claire’s fingers slid through that wetness, Stacey startled, lifting the blade out of caution.
“Claire, I really don’t want to cut you.” Her voice vibrating with excitement. Stacey eventually resumed her shaving, even as Claire’s attentions continued.
“Then don’t.” Claire sighed, slipping two fingers inside, while her thumb caressed Stacey’s swollen clitoris.
“You’re going to make me come.” Stacey moaned, struggling to focus.
“I think that’s something I would love to see.” Claire mused. “But, not just yet.” And with that, she removed her hand from Stacey’s sex.
“Claire!” Stacey groaned, thrusting her hips forward, missing the attention.
“Soon, lover, soon.” Claire soothed.
Stacey was only slightly taken aback by her friend’s affectionate referral, because, in essence, it was true. “We’re being naughty,” Stacey admitted, scoldingly.
“I will not disagree.” Claire mewled, running her fingers over her head, pleased with Stacey’s efforts. “Very nice.” She smiled, rinsing the balance of the foam from her head. “Your turn,” Claire said, jokingly.
“You have no idea how much I want to; how much I want you to…”
“To what?” Claire queried.
“Shave my head,” Stacey said, in a whisper.
“There. You’ve said it.” Claire smiled. Nothing more was mentioned as they dressed, Stacey feeling more than a little frustrated, being brought so close, and then denied.
“You’ve left me in a state.” Stacey accused, as they headed out for the day. “What are we doing?”
“I think we’ll do a little sightseeing,” Claire suggested, and so they did.
It was a long day, and both women were a bit tired as they settled into the sidewalk café for a small supper. A slight breeze lifted Stacey’s hair, reminding her of its presence. She looked across at Claire, her head gleaming in the setting sun, feeling jealous, and so aroused.
The excitement that Claire had elicited that morning had yet to fade, and Stacey found it difficult to think of anything else. She longed to feel Claire’s fingers inside her again and having to regard her hairless friend only served to compound that arousal.
Several glasses of wine later, the two found themselves strolling through the Parisian streets, arms about the other, and one might have confused them for a couple. So, it was easy for Stacey to ease Claire up against the wall of the small alley, pressing her mouth against hers, tongues battling, and hands too free to wander.
“Come on.” Claire insisted, pulling Stacey along by the hand. The place seemed familiar as they passed the old stone gate and through the door. When they reached the lift, everything came rushing back, and Stacey pushed away.
“Why are we here?” Stacey sighed, watching as the doors slid open with an agonal grind.
“Your turn,” was all Claire managed, as she pulled Stacey into the elevator.
The turmoil inside Stacey’s tortured mind, finally cleared. The image from the dream the night before, crystallized into reality. All of the teasing and building up of her sexual frustration had pushed her over the edge. “My turn.” Stacey submitted.
The loud pulse of the dance floor was only a blur as Claire led her into the winding hallway. For a moment, Stacey was afraid, but when they were back in that place, Claire at her side, she felt suddenly at ease. There was a scene going on, the stage occupied by three naked women, but Stacey barely noticed. All of her focus was on Claire, as she spoke to Arabella.
Hours before, Stacey held only contempt for the tall bald woman. Now, she seemed only a means to an end. Claire turned to Stacey and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Be brave, lover.”
“I want you to be the one.” Stacey managed, her head swimming in fear and ecstasy.
“Me, and only me, Stacey.” Claire eased, pulling her through the curtain, into another series of hallways.
“This is it,” Stacey whispered to herself when they arrived at the side of the stage. There it was… the box. Would Claire subject her to that? Would that be the vehicle of her ultimate humiliation? Suddenly, Stacey’s sex was soaked. There was no wondering why, either. For years, she had dreamt of a moment such as this. Now it was only seconds away from becoming real.
When she saw Claire again, she was dressed fully in leather, the outfit caressing her lithe form evocatively. “You have to take these off, now,” Claire said, almost apologetically.
Stacey only nodded, as Claire removed her clothing a piece at a time, ultimately leaving her completely naked. It was the first time she had ever been so exposed, at least in front of people. They weren’t alone, and it was all too plain to Stacey that eyes did roam over her voluptuous body.
A thin leather collar was fastened around Stacey’s neck, and a leash attached. Stunned, Stacey followed the lead, relieved to find Claire at the other end of it, smiling. “No box for you, my dear.” And with that, Claire draped an ornate oriental cloak about her shoulders. Grateful for any covering, Stacey smiled, allowing the smooth silk to drape against her body. It was still open in the front, but something was better than nothing at all.
Applause from the audience indicated that the last scene had concluded, and suddenly the side of the stage was crowded with women. Claire ran an open hand over Stacey’s long dark tresses, and perhaps for the last time, for a very long time, Stacey enjoyed the feeling of it.
The stage went dark, and the audience hushed. It was time. Claire again gave Stacey a reassuring smile before leading her in darkness to the center of the stage. The only props to be seen were a square leather cushion and a bowl resting beside it.
“Kneel, now, lover.” Claire urged, pressing ever so gently on Stacey’s shoulder to ease her down onto the leather. Claire tapped the inside of Stacey’s knees with the tip of her boot, indicating she should spread them apart. Stacey complied, knowing that even with the cape, she would be exposed fully when the lights came up. Stacey heard, rather than saw the curtain open before her, the only hint of a presence were the myriad of eyes reflecting back into her own.
Thrust into the spotlight, Stacey realized that she was alone at the center of the stage, the exotic red cape open so that her breasts and sex were displayed fully to the faces of anonymity. A gong sounded, reverberating through the theatre as Stacey knelt alone, and as it faded one might have heard a pin drop. Slow deliberate footfalls approached her, and Stacey’s senses vibrated hearing the heel-toe, heel-toe of Claire’s boots as she came to stand behind her.
Soft music began to play above them, serene and mysterious, a single koto wove a melody that was soothing to Stacey’s frazzled nerves. She felt two hands on her head, tipping it backward until she saw her. Claire was there, leaning down to place an upside-down kiss tenderly on her lips. Whispering against them, Claire gave her that last chance. “Ready?”
Stacey’s silence was her answer as Claire began working scented water from the bowl through the hair that very nearly touched the floor around her. It smelled of roses and lavender, the scent bringing Stacey closer to a final calm.
A unified gasp rose from the eyes that stared upon her, Stacey making contact with each as she surrendered. ‘This is really happening’, she thought, almost audibly as she felt the first caress of the razor. Almost a strand at a time, Stacey watched as her long chestnut hair fell over the cape, curling into artistic swirls all around her.
The blade must have been incredibly sharp because Stacey only felt the smooth friction of the hair being severed at the skin, as it fell away. Claire paused to place a kiss against the newly exposed scalp, sending waves of erotic pleasure coursing through Stacey’s body. A moan escaped her lips, involuntarily, and as if in sympathy a chorus of the same returned from those who were watching.
Claire was so careful, so very careful, as she wielded the blade she had commissioned months before. Like the music, it was Japanese, and devastatingly sharp. The same artistry that had crafted swords of unspeakable quality, had fashioned the instrument she used.
Stacey now felt the undeniable nakedness, where only minutes before, hair that had been envied by so many had flourished. As strands fell around her ear, exposing it, she knew it was close. Claire had worked slowly from the top, and only the very fringes remained.
All was gone now, save for a single strand that hung precipitously in front of her eyes. Claire had left that for last. The music faded, and the silence was deafening as Claire severed that single lock, its journey to the floor clearly audible above the quietus, coming to rest amongst a sea of luscious curls.
Suddenly, the cape was gone, and Stacey knew she was utterly naked in so many ways. Applause rose from an appreciative audience as Claire helped Stacey to her feet, embracing her closely. “You are magnificent,” Claire whispered in her ear as they held one another.
There would be no cross, no whipping, but what had happened was far more erotic than anything Stacey could possibly have imagined. Claire led them away, but Stacey couldn’t help looking back, seeing the stage crew sweep up what remained of her once magnificent mane and deposit the lot into a rolling bin.
“I think you wear that look better than I do,” Arabella commented, as they walked by, but all Stacey could think about was Claire.
So, as they changed back into their street clothes and prepared to leave, Stacey managed the first feel of her naked pate. “Oh, my God, I’m bald.” Her eyes as wide as saucers.
“I certainly hope so. Otherwise, all that was for naught.” Claire mused, slipping the prized razor into her pocket.
Stacey was all aglow as they moved through the club, knowing that her newfound nakedness was attracting attention. The thing was, the only attention she really wanted was from the woman standing next to her.
“My husband is going to kill me, or worse.” Stacey realized.
“Then don’t tell him.” Claire chortled.
“I’m talking about my shaved head, silly.” Stacey giggled.
“Yes, well, that will be rather difficult to hide.” Claire winced. “I suppose we could buy a wig.”
“No. Absolutely not. We’re just going to have to get through this, one way or another.” Stacey said, bravely. She looked at Claire, speculatively. “Is it really cheating, if it’s with a girl?”
Claire gave her a look, and then smiled. “Well, I won’t be telling Terry about this, if that’s what you mean.” Claire admonished.
“Then, I guess what they don’t know, won’t hurt them.” Stacey grinned, falling into Claire’s shoulder. “I want you.” She whispered.
“We have tonight, lover, but then the wheels fall off the carriage.” Claire reminded her. “So… I guess it’s going to have to be a night to last the rest of our lives.”
And, it was.