Stealing Jennifer Scott, Chapter Two

Stealing Jennifer Scott

Chapter Two

By Shorngirl

It had been a week since our little encounter at Sanctuary, an S&M club on the upper East side of the city. I watched closely on my computer as the evidence of what I had done to her became apparent in her communications.

Jennifer’s messages and emails were riddled with questions and at times a certain modicum of ridicule. She was having a tough time at work, her two closest friends being the only ones that really knew what had happened. Jennifer’s cover story was that she simply got tired of taking care of her gorgeous blonde locks.

At the end of the first week, the uproar had calmed to barely a mention of her new look. What had changed was what Jennifer seemed to be viewing at night. Although I knew she had been perusing haircutting fetish sites before, her interest was shifting into a full-blown obsession.

I remembered giving her my card at the club before she left, but she’d admitted to her friends that she’d thrown it away in a fit of rage when she got home after her first day at work. Her admission of unsuccessfully digging through her garbage to find it was humorous, to say the least.

I was also a bit amused by her feeble attempts to discover who I was, and although her personal searches were a valiant effort, they were too elementary to be successful. She’d even gone so far as to attempt to pry my identity out of the staff at Sanctuary. Their only advice was to come to the club and perhaps I may show up.

I’d noticed too that her interest in haircutting had advanced to the more extreme, such as punishment head shaving and slavery involving the same. She’d also begun to refine her fetish by reading fiction on the subject.

I decided it was time to make another move, but it was Jennifer who needed to contact me. I made a trip to her address while she was at work, and using the security codes I’d gleaned from her data, was able to gain access to her apartment.

Not wanting to give away knowledge of my invasive access to her life, I came up with a plan. I took another of my cards and opened the trash drawer. Removing the existing bag, I put the card beneath, face up. I knew that the next time she emptied her garbage, she would undoubtedly see it. She would think herself fortunate to have found it and doubted she would ever suspect my intrusion.

While there, I fired up her laptop, which I was surprised to find. I’d assumed that she used it for work, but perhaps not. I made some adjustments, giving me more exclusive access, and even some control over her internet choices. Most importantly, I enabled her camera so I could access it remotely, tweaking the code to disable the activation light. I wanted to see her and what she was doing, but I didn’t want Jennifer to know about it.

That evening, I settled in to watch the show. It didn’t take very long for her computer to fire up, and the little alarm rang out on mine, informing me of my new access. I entered the code and her image appeared on the screen. I was disappointed to find her fully clothed, but smiled seeing her new image.

Jennifer sported the short style well, her long neck and lovely face only accentuated by the absence of hair around it. I watched as she fired up the internet and a bit of puzzlement crossed her face as the sites I had prescribed popped up in a fake ad on her screen. She reduced it, but to my delight didn’t close it entirely.

Soon, she was shedding her clothes and I was treated to her lovely body, at least from the waist up. I launched screen share covertly and watched what she watched, read what she read, on my adjacent monitor. She was deep into it, and I saw her right hand moving below the desk. The look on her face was priceless and I almost felt guilty seeing the unabashed depravity of her rant.

“Take it, Dale. Oh… God, Dale…Just take it all!” She ran her hand up through her hair, mimicking what could only be clippers. To be honest, I was stroking myself at that point and we came together as she fantasized about my taking her hair from her.

Her phone rang out then, almost inconveniently, interrupting our mutual afterglow. I immediately twinned her phone connection and listened in.

“Hello?” Jennifer managed, a bit breathless.

         “Are you masturbating again?” The female voice accused. I called up the ID and noted that it was Bridget. “You little whore.”

         “Yeah, so, what of it?” Jennifer answered, petulantly.

         “Did you find out who she is?” Bridget asked, expectantly.

         “No. It’s really pissing me off. I want to see her again, Bridge.” Jennifer sounded pissy. She must not have changed her garbage yet.

         “Are you kidding? After what she did to your hair the last time?” Bridget sounded genuinely concerned.

         “I like it. I might even go shorter, you know?” Jennifer admitted.

         “You’re joking. Lisa was right. Once you start cutting it, it’s like an addiction. I loved your hair, Jen, but your new cut has opened up a few avenues for Lisa and me at work.” Bridget mused.

         “What do you mean?”

         “I mean, most of the guys have stopped lusting after you. Let’s face it, before you got all that hair lopped off, you were a knockout.” Bridget chuckled. “Now, not so much.”

         “Well, thanks for being honest.” Jennifer bit, obviously hurt by the comment.

         “Guys like long hair, Jen, as shallow as that may seem.”

         “Yeah, well, that’s become a problem for me, too,” Jennifer admitted.

         “Uh oh, trouble in paradise?” Bridget asked.

         “Ashton hates it. He can’t understand why I would ever cut my hair.” Jennifer ranted. “I told him if all he saw in me was my long hair, then maybe we shouldn’t be dating.”

         “You didn’t!” Bridget blurted.

         “I broke it off with him.” I saw her wipe a tear from her eye, but immediately sit up straight.“He didn’t seem all that upset, like I’d saved him the trouble, or something.”

         “Good riddance.” Bridget seethed. “You are way too good for him anyway.”

         “Thanks, Bridge.” Jen sighed. “I’ve got to go. This apartment needs a little sprucing up.”

         “Hang in there, Jen. Hey, maybe you’ll find out who this Dale chick is, right?” Bridget offered. “Just don’t let her cut off any more of your hair.” She chortled.

         “I’d let her shave me bald, honestly,” Jennifer said, her honesty lost on her friend.

         “God forbid. You take it easy. See you Monday.”

The phone clicked off and my link died. Jennifer sat there staring at her screen for a few minutes, still naked. Thankfully she left her computer on, and I was treated to her housekeeping skills. She never put anything on, except for some music, deciding to stay in the nude.

I was pleased that she had broken up with her boyfriend, to be honest. She was way too good for any boy, and from the sound of things, I was now on the menu. I wanted her to experience the upheaval as well. A bit of humiliation and from what Bridget had said, being knocked down a few pegs was good to bolster her submissive compulsions.

While she cleaned, she would wander on and off camera and I was considering shutting it down, when I heard a rustling that could only be a garbage bag.

         “What the… Holy shit!” And I knew she had found the card. She immediately planted herself back at her desk and tried entering my information into her computer. I knew all she would find was my phone and address, as my office links were ultra-secure. I was optimistic to expect my phone to ring as she didn’t seem to be the type to jump into a conversation unprepared. I wasn’t wrong.

It was Saturday afternoon when the image of her lit up on my mobile, bringing a smile to my face. “Hello?”

“Hi.” There was a long pause. “It’s Jennifer, from Sanctuary?” She spoke as if I might have forgotten her.

“I was beginning to lose hope that you’d ever call, Jennifer,” I answered, innocently.

“I wanted to let you know that I had a really… interesting time that night.” She managed, reticently. “It’s caused a bit of a catastrophe in my life, to be honest, but… you pressed some buttons that I didn’t know I had.”

“Do you like it?” I asked, tersely.

“To be honest, I enjoyed the experience more than the result,” Jennifer admitted, coyly. “Everyone was a bit shocked that I would do something so rash with my hair.”

“Well, I thought the look suited you.” I prodded, hoping that she might reveal more about how she really felt.

“Thank you. It’s just taking a bit of getting used to.” There was a pregnant pause and then she added. “I do like the shaved bit in the back.”

“And I suppose you’ve maintained that, have you?” I asked, knowing that she had from her images on camera.

“I have touched it up once or twice. How did you know?” Jennifer asked, without suspicion.

“Call it a feeling I had about you.” I mused with a slight chuckle. So far, she hadn’t made any attempt to ask me out, as it were, but I had a feeling it was coming.

“Anyway, I broke it off with my boyfriend, and I… I was wondering if I could see you again.” And there it was.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad. I hope it wasn’t over anything so shallow as your hairstyle.” I imagined her running her fingertips into her undershave, just as she had on camera the night before.

“As a matter of fact…”

“Oh, well, then he never deserved you in the first place.” I insisted. “Why don’t you pop over to my apartment, say… around five?”

“Um. Well… I didn’t think…yes. Okay.” She stammered.

“Don’t be nervous, Jennifer. We’ll have fun together. Trust me.” I doubted, after what I had done to her at Sanctuary that she would ever really trust me, but I was hoping for at least a willing trepidation. “See you then.” And then, I ended the call.

During the afternoon, I half expected her to call and cancel. She would give some lame excuse for her inability to see me, as embarrassing as that would be for her. So, it was with some surprise that the door buzzer rang out precisely at five o’clock. “Punctual little vixen, isn’t she,” I muttered, as I crossed the large foyer to let her in. “Second floor, Jennifer,” I spoke into the intercom.

There was a soft knock, but I allowed her to wait in the vestibule for a minute before opening the heavy, steel-reinforced door. “Hello, Jennifer.” I implored, opening the door wide to allow her entrance.

“It’s Jen. You can call me Jen.” She eased, looking around the large, sparsely decorated living room. I was a firm believer in Feng Shui and most of the décor had a decidedly Asian feel to it. “This is… lovely. A bit unexpected, but nice.”

I supposed she had me living in squalor; a messy room with newspapers on the floor and clutter everywhere. I was happy to surprise her. “Welcome to my home, Jen. Would you care for a drink?”

“Actually, that would be fantastic.” She sat slowly into the metal-framed sofa, the smooth leather squeaking against her bare legs. She’d worn a skirt, but an incredibly short one, and she had tugged on it slightly before resting on the offered perch.

“Brandy?” I assumed, as it seemed to be her drink of choice at the club.

“Thank you, yes.”

I poured two fingers of the Remy Martin X.O into two snifters and brought them in, taking a seat adjacent to her in a matching chair. I watched as she brought the glass to her lips, the very act itself admittedly erotic.

I noticed that her neck was freshly shaved, and her hair had been styled since my rather blunt attempt at it in the seedy green room of Sanctuary. “Your hair looks wonderful.” I complimented.

“Thank you. This is wonderful.” She changed the subject, swirling the cognac in her glass to regard the fingers trickle down the inside of the crystal globe.

“I’m glad you appreciate the flavor.” I smiled, sipping a little myself, before placing my glass on the low wooden table. “I thought we’d get something to eat and then come back here… after.” I’d worn a suitably butch outfit, not wanting to disappoint, dressy, but certainly not feminine. I stood and indicated that I would need to freshen up. “Make yourself at home, Jen. Have a look around.”

A few minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom to find Jennifer looking through my extensive vinyl collection. “See anything you like?”

“A lot, actually. We seem to have similar taste in music.” She chortled.

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing, for later.” I grinned. She blushed suddenly, and it was so cute. “I’ve made reservations at Cote.”

“I’ve heard about the place, but I’ve never been.” Jennifer smiled. “Korean, right?”

“The best. I think you’ll enjoy it.” We finished our cognac, and headed out, opting for a cab rather than bothering with cars. I kept mine stashed away most of the time, in a garage down the street. Jennifer didn’t seem to mind.

Dinner was fabulous, and the conversation steered well clear of the topic at hand, bordering on small talk, but slightly more invasive. I opted to stay away from any talk of Schoharie, and she didn’t seem to mind avoiding the ‘hometown’ thing either.

Once safely back in my apartment, there was an air of expectation that I didn’t want to go to waste. I eyed her up and down carefully, as she shed her jacket. “Why don’t you just keep going.” Not a question at all.

For a moment she stood, stock still, her fingers poised at the top button of her blouse. “Right here?”

“Right there. Just let them fall to the floor, all of them.” Meanwhile, I showed no sign of disrobing, save for my shoes, which I had shed at the door out of habit. “Of course, I could just strip you, but they seem expensive, and I may not be as careful as you might like.” My tone was decidedly authoritarian, and I felt a pleasing shift in the dynamics between us. Less than a minute later, Jennifer was naked.

“Another brandy?” I asked, indicating the sofa once again. I think she was a bit shy about being the only one naked in the room, and I wanted her to savor that difference. Nothing is more demeaning or humiliating than being naked and alone in it. She accepted the brandy, nervously crossing her legs, the leather slipping noisily over her skin. “You better not be leaving any pussy tracks on my Italian leather, Jen.”

I slipped a towel from the rack at the side of the small wet bar and tossed it to her. She must have turned every shade of red in the box as she lifted to spread the towel under her butt. “Better?” She asked, in a whisper.

“Safer.” I smiled, allowing my lips to linger on my glass as I observed her. “Open,” I commanded, pointing to her sex, which was well concealed by her demure pose.

Startled, she uncrossed her legs, allowing them to fall open, wantonly. I could immediately smell her scent in the air, and it was delectable. Her neatly trimmed thatch glistened with her arousal, and I knew that the towel was more than humiliating. As manicured as it was, it was going to have to go.

“I’m going to shave you,” I advised, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Her hands immediately went to her hair, pulling at the short strands as if she might just cover her exposed ears with the effort. “Right now?”

I knew that she was convinced that I meant to shave her head but thought it would be fun to preserve the misunderstanding. “Follow me.” I held out my hand, lifting her from the sofa. I loved the sound of her bare feet padding across the parquet floor, plit…plat…plit…plat, as I led her into the spacious bath. Lovely. “Sit.” There was a brass guilt backless seat, which I quickly stole the tufted cushion from, having her sit directly on the swirling brass platform.

Watching her in the mirror, she nervously observed. I laid the tools I would need on the vanity, the clippers seeming the most disturbing for her. Her eyes were locked on them from the moment I removed them from the drawer. Testing the ornate trimming tool, the soft high-pitched hum caused her to jump. Amused, I turned with them in my hand. “Nervous?”

“Jesus. What do you think?” She spluttered, beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead.

“Whatever for?” I chuckled. “Haven’t ever shaved your pubes before?”

The relief on her face was almost palpable and the electricity in the room defused at once. “Oh, my god. I thought…”

“You thought I was going to shave your head, didn’t you?” I mused.

“Honestly, yes.” I saw the slightest bit of disappointment touch her countenance.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that, Jen…” but then qualified, “…yet.”

There was an almost imperceptible gasp that escaped her lips, but nothing more was said on the subject. At my demand she stood, her legs spread open, and her hands clasped behind what remained of her hair.

Jennifer’s manicured curls were no match for the skeletonized Bayliss trimmers, which quickly and efficiently shaved her nearly to the skin. It is an intensely personal thing, to be shaved like that and I could feel her shaking ever so slightly as I carefully worked. A quick once over with some lather and a blade and her snatch was as smooth as silk.

Emphasizing how closely I had shaved her, I knelt and took her clitoris between my lips and sucked, her lips and juices pulled erotically into my mouth. I loved how she moaned with my attentions, but when I quickly withdrew there was a hiss of disappointment. “You don’t come until I say. Understand?”

“I understand.” I could hear the pent-up arousal just bursting within her, but knew that she was a long way from being allowed that privilege. I led her out of the bath and down the hallway, to a room I was certain she didn’t expect.

I tried not to draw comparisons to Anastasia’s reaction to the red room, that first time, but it was hard not to. Wandering in, she demurely examined the racks of implements and ornate equipment that lined the walls.

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” She managed, after she had a moment to compose herself.

“You’re about to find out just how much.” I chuckled, slipping a leather cuff from the wall, and wrapping her wrist with it. Surprisingly, she offered the other for me, and I obliged, fastening her to the upholstered St. Andrews Cross. A few moments later she was mine to do with as I pleased, but I don’t think she was prepared for where things went.

I was certain she was expecting me to launch right in with one of my many floggers, dangling temptingly to her left. To her shock and amazement, I pulled the Bayliss trimmers from my back pocket, having stashed them there without her noticing.

“I thought you said… I wasn’t ready.” Jennifer panted, her breath nearly escaping her.

“Did I?” I grinned, as evil a grin as I could manage under the circumstances.

“Oh, my god.” Gasping, she pulled slightly against her bonds, but not in any serious attempt to escape.

“I think it’s time for some more adjustments to your look,” I murmured, bringing the clippers up to her face. If she wasn’t shaking before, she surely was then, and I could feel the tremor as I leaned against her naked body.

“Oh, please, Dale, please.” She begged, and I couldn’t tell if she was more worried about me shaving her head, or not shaving it. I was going to need to drag this out, if for no other reason than to see what her reaction might be. She was ready to be bald, there was no doubt, but I wasn’t ready.

I pulled the blond bob forward, so it effectively covered the upper half of her face. I let my hand touch her smooth sex, and she very nearly came right then and there. “Careful, Jennifer. I can’t have you coming just yet, now, can I?”

She groaned gutturally, thrusting her hips forward, the attachments clashing against one another at the corners of the cross. She hummed uncontrollably through her lips, expecting the worst to happen.

The clippers bit into the hair more than halfway up her forehead, bluntly cutting the beginnings of what would be some severely short bangs. She had stopped breathing, so I quickly carved out the rest, curving them downward to the outside. I’d never done that with clippers before, but it was surprisingly quick and precise. “There. That’s better.” I mused, stepping back to admire my handiwork.

“What.” She blurted. “What did you do?”

“Well, you certainly do look… younger.” I managed, stifling my amusement, and realizing just how childish she looked now. The shocked look on her face was at least allayed by the fact that I hadn’t run them down the center of her head.

Jennifer looked down at the floor between her splayed legs and saw the four-inch tufts of hair lying this way and that on the hardwood floor. “Bangs? Oh my god, you gave me bangs?” I saw her eyes roll upward trying to catch a glimpse of them, but being so far up her face, she was unable.

“I never said I was going to shave your head. As I said, you aren’t quite ready for that.” I insisted. “But I do think I’ll take these instead.” I brought the clippers to bear once more, and she closed her eyes. They did shoot wide open when she felt them pressed to the corner of her brow.

I could tell someone had taken great care to shape and trim these brows, perhaps even some threading had been done. As I pressed the trimmers toward the bridge of her delicate nose, however, it was all for naught. I could see that Jennifer was about to complain, her mouth starting to open with a breath. I quickly brought my free hand down to her pussy, inserting my fingers deep inside her; my thumb pressing firmly against her engorged clit.

Rather than voice her dissent, she gasped out loud, and not quietly, either. The room was sound-proofed, for obvious reasons, so I never had to worry about my neighbors being disturbed. Before she realized their fate, both her brows had joined her hair on the floor. Granted, some had managed to stick to her moistened cheeks, so I carefully brushed them away. “There, that’s much more… polished looking.”

“Dale, please. Don’t stop.” She begged, and I wasn’t sure if she meant her hair or my attention to her sex. I switched off the clippers, setting them on one of the carved teak sets of drawers.

The look was a bit alien, to be honest, and I was quite certain that Jennifer was going to be taken aback by her new appearance. I thought back to her tirade on the computer screen the night before, when she had mock-shaved her head with her fingers while calling out my name. Tied to my rack and shaved the way she was, Jennifer certainly looked more the part; a slave, rather than the voluptuous blonde goddess she had been before our encounter at Sanctuary.

I paid a little more attention to her fragrant labia, which hung open lewdly now that they were so exposed. Easing in and out, back and forth, I teased her, bringing her to edge, only to let her fall back into turmoil. Now that she was primed, it was time for a little fun.

As I unfastened the clips on the leather cuffs she wore, some forty-five minutes later, her lily-white skin was thoroughly marked. I hadn’t left anything untouched, although the floggers I had used were far from the cruelest I owned. Jennifer was a mess, having experienced more than one orgasm during her ordeal.

She almost fell into my arms, once she was free. I had undressed at some point during the scene, and her skin was white hot against my own. I laid her down on the chaise lounge that I had purchased only a few months before. It was the one thing missing from the room, but it had to be the right one.

Sensing her exhaustion, I allowed her to curl up on it, while I started cleaning. I did, of course, leave the hair right where it fell, thinking that it would serve as a reminder of the evening once I had roused her. I doubt that she would forget what I had done, but seeing it there… she would feel for the change in the dimly lit room.

I was trying to imagine that, of course, the humiliation when she showed up for work Monday morning. I wasn’t quite sure just how she was going to explain this one without making herself look foolish.

After a while, I realized that she was down for the night, so I grabbed a sheet and blanket from the linen chest, and covered her where she slept. I neatly folded her clothes and set them beside her on a convenient table, and retired to my bedroom.

I woke Sunday morning to a door being closed rather firmly. Quickly remembering the night before I made my way to the playroom, only to find it empty. Jennifer was gone, along with her clothes, and surprisingly, the hair that I had left on the floor at the base of the St. Andrew’s cross.

I searched the apartment but knew that she was gone. I thought about chasing after her, but still being naked I relaxed, moving to the window. All I saw was her telltale hair disappearing into a cab in front of my building.

Disappointed, I walked to the kitchen and switched on the coffee. That’s when I saw the note, rolled neatly into a scroll; a lock of her hair tied delicately around it. I wondered what she might say in it, not having the nerve to face me, or being too upset to.

Dale,

You are killing me, here.

Please don’t hate me for running

But I deperately needed some space to

Absorb the ‘new me’.

I’ll call you.

Jen

I picked up the lock of hair and ran it slowly under my nose, her perfume still clinging to the strands. Would she call? There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

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