Stealing Jennifer Scott
I was beginning to have some doubts about whether Jennifer, or Jen, as she insisted on being called, would actually call. It had been a full week, and although I had still been monitoring her through her computer and phone, she showed no signs indicating any interest in getting together.
Much of that, I attributed to the rather cool reaction she received at work, upon her return. Even though she had done an admirable job of drawing on her eyebrows, the ‘too short’ bangs were a bit much for her friends and colleagues.
I didn’t feel incredibly guilty over what I had done, or that I had woven my way into Jennifer Scott’s life. So, as I observed her through my digital window into her world, I was only aroused by what I saw.
As she sat down at her computer that night, I was pleased that she had taken the time to remove her drawn-on brows, opting for the blank, expressionless visage I saw on my monitor. By, now, there should have been a slight shadow of stubble where only smooth skin now lay. She was shaving her eyebrows herself.
This pleased me more than I wanted to admit to myself. Whatever I had done to her, she seemed committed to maintaining, and that was incredibly arousing to me. I slipped a hand into my loose-fitting sweats and allowed my fingers to caress my clit. This was delicious.
“Dale, what have you done to me?” She whispered to no one as she scanned the haircut sites, seeming to be looking for one video in particular. I had no idea what that could be. When at last she found what she sought, a mixture of trepidation and lust crossed her face.
Switching to share, I joined her as she stared at a video of our second session at Sanctuary. Someone had been filming. I had seen the crude videos that her ‘friends’ had posted, but I had no idea anyone had posted a video of this. Who that she knew, had been watching? It had to be someone she knew.
I watched intently, and it seemed odd to be watching myself in so revered a costume, performing something so sexually evocative. As the blade of my katana sliced away her lovely braid, I was stunned by how close I had come to scalping her for real. Later, when I enhanced the footage, the razor-sharp blade had come within an inch of her scalp. ‘How could I have been so careless’, I chided.
Jennifer was naked now, having removed her clothing during the lead-up to my dramatic climax, and she masturbated, her body vibrating with her efforts. Her mouth opened just slightly, revealing her perfect teeth, almost panting as she drew close to her peak. It was stunning to watch. Of course, her ridiculously short bangs did detract from her looks a bit, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to fulfill both our fantasies.
Jennifer longed to be so humiliated, and I was more than happy to oblige her desires. It was a mutually satisfying game we played, and only I knew where it was to end. Her masturbating continued after the end of the video, and I saw her frantically searching for another, trying not to allow her edge to fall away.
The next scene shocked me, and to be honest, I was almost repulsed by the violence of the video she chose. A girl was cornered in a dark alley, only it was not by men, but by three very menacing-looking women. As they advanced on the woman, she crumpled to the dank pavement, only to be set upon by the three.
They beat her senseless, and I had a very hard time convincing myself that it was staged for a film. The beating seemed real, as did the blood which dribbled from the corner of the girl’s mouth. Deciding that it was only film, I continued to watch with her. The look on Jennifer’s face had changed from one of arousal to desperate lust.
The next scene had the girl tied to a chair in a large warehouse, the women wanting to extract some sort of information. My German is terrible, so trying to decipher what they were saying was pointless. The girl’s long blonde hair was next, mussed and a bit wet from her sweat, the one woman began shaving her. It was not gentle, and the blade she used left small red abrasions on the poor girl’s scalp.
In the end, she left tied to that chair, the women seemingly giving up. I had stopped any attempt to come, but Jennifer was falling over the edge as the camera panned in on the girl, bereft of her hair, her scalp an exercise in how not to shave one’s head. Small beads of blood oozed from the careless strokes the razor had left, and the girl, once lovely and demure, looked anything but.
Without her hair, she was stripped of anything that resembled beauty, her face bruised and her mouth bloody. I was indeed shocked by Jennifer’s choice. Was this what she fantasized about? If it was, there was no way I could ever stoop to such depths, attempting to grant her that reality.
I turned off the screen, deciding to walk away from the unpleasant thought. I knew that porn had a way of drawing someone deeper, so they required more and more intense scenes in order to satisfy their cravings. But had she really fallen so far; to desire something so incredibly violent? Putting the thought from my mind, I was startled when my phone rang.
Without thinking, I raised it to my ear and answered. “Hello?”
“Clay. It’s Jen.” There was some silence as she waited for my response, one that was slow in coming. She had called me, right after watching that?
“Hello, Jen. I was beginning to think you had blown me off.” I accused.
“No, not likely. I have been trying to come to grips with what happened, and to be honest, how it has impacted my life.” She cleared her throat. “No, I really want to see you again.”
Trying to put the images of the disturbing video out of my mind, I answered. “Sure, I’d like that too.” I listened, but she was waiting for me. “What about this Friday?” I suggested.
“This weekend.” She said suddenly. “I want you to kidnap me and treat me like your hostage.” She said, boldly.
“Woah, what?” I acted surprised when I was anything but.
“You know, you grab me, throw me in your trunk and drive off to some undisclosed location, where you… well, do whatever you want to me.” She tried to sound innocent in her request, but I knew better.
“All weekend?” I asked.
“I’m free if you are.” Jennifer sighed, the afterglow of her orgasm still on her lips.
I could never give her what she seemed to want, but I could fake it pretty well, I was sure. An inner battle was waging, and I fought any reserve I still felt about this. “Fine. Be prepared.” It was all I needed to say. Disconnecting, I went to my computer to clear my schedule for the weekend. It seemed I would be following a colleague’s advice and take him up on the use of his cabin in the Palisades.
Living Up to Her…Expectations
I watched patiently as people filed out of her office building, waiting for her. I noticed that almost everyone that seemed to want to leave at five was on their way when she finally peeked around the corner of the marble entranceway.
There was no mistaking her hairstyle and she had deliberately, I think, worn what some might consider inappropriate clothing for work. Maybe she had changed in the ladies’ room? I didn’t care. This next part was crucial. I slowly pulled down the small alley that ran between her building and the next, knowing that she walked that way to get to the subway. I’d done a bit of homework.
In spite of that, I couldn’t help but have reservations over what I was doing. What was the girl expecting? I felt a bit like I had created a monster, even though she was well on her way to that without my interference.
Dressed in a suit, I did my best not to stand out as I popped the trunk of my A7 and pretended to fumble around inside. I smelled her perfume before she walked by, and had to admit, my heart was racing. I had never done anything even approaching this brazen and the reality of it began to form a ball in the pit of my stomach.
‘What if someone saw me? What if she put up a fight and drew attention? God, what if she screamed?’ All these thoughts ran through my head as I spun and wrapped my forearm around her neck and drew her backward, remembering my jiujitsu and using her own weight to propel us into the opening of the Audi’s trunk.
The cloth I held over her face was laden with nothing but simple ethyl alcohol, but I wanted her to think that it was chloroform. She struggled momentarily, but as if believing what she was smelling was the real thing, she began to fade in my grasp. I quickly deposited her in the rather cramped quarters of the sport sedan’s trunk and slammed it shut.
I looked around and was pleased to see that no one had apparently witnessed the mock abduction. It was my most pressing concern, as anyone reporting a supposed kidnapping would surely report it to the police.
Slipping the car into drive, I had this sinking feeling in my gut. ‘What the fuck had I just done!’ In essence, I’d just kidnapped a girl from a city street, even if it was planned and expected, it just felt incredibly wrong.
As I crossed the GW bridge out of Manhattan, I began to hear stirrings in the back of the car. Now, I knew all too well that if the girl wanted out all she needed to do was pull the emergency trunk release that was plainly visible in glow-in-the-dark plastic. If she knew how the car worked, she could push the back seats down and climb into the passenger compartment. She wasn’t restrained.
Instead, all I heard was the single-word question. “Dale?”
“Yes. Are you okay?” I had to ask.
There was no answer, but I’m pretty sure I smelled her scent. She had either stripped or was aroused enough to be soaking through her panties and hose. I imagined her naked, her clothing bunched up around her and for the first time since I set out on this bizarre little fantasy of hers, I was actually excited.
Hers was a unique scent, and it was almost an aphrodisiac for me. I had smelled it once in high school as a boy flirted with her at her locker. He probably had no idea what a sexual creature she was, but I knew what I smelled, now and back then.
When my colleague said that his cabin was off in the woods a bit, I had no idea how serious he was. The long drive and utterly isolated cabin seemed the ideal place, had this been an actual abduction. As it was, the place was beautiful. It was set high enough to have a narrow view of the Hudson, but the closest neighbor was well out of sight.
As suspected, when I walked around to open the trunk, I found Jennifer utterly naked, her clothes balled up at one end of the trunk. To my surprise, they had been shredded into pieces that were too small to call scraps. Jennifer held up a pair of office scissors, smiling widely, and melting my heart, just a little.
Deciding to act the part that she so desperately wanted me to play, I took the scissors from her and threw them into the woods. “Can’t have you doing anything unexpected now, can we?” I pulled her roughly from amongst the ruins of her clothing, and onto the grass; starting to wet with the evening dew.
I grabbed one of the long strips that had once been her blouse and gagged her, pulling it past her lips and knotting it behind her head. Her neck, I noticed, was still shaved to the skin. Smiling with that thought, I turned her around, her mouth distorted as the fabric pulled harshly between her parted teeth. “That should keep you quiet.” I griped, trying to act. She mumbled something unintelligible through the makeshift gag.
Using another scrap, I tied her wrists behind her back and led her up onto the porch. I supposed I should have scouted the place, had I really wanted to pull this off convincingly, but I was soon inside and pulled her in after me. “You stink like sex, you know that?” I accused, rubbing my fingers through her sex, and bringing them to her nose. “Smell that, you whore.” I was pleased, again, that she had kept everything below as smooth and hairless as I had rendered it.
I saw the same look, the one she wore when she had watched that abhorrent video. She was getting off on my rough treatment, even though it was all make-believe. Perhaps in her mind, it was anything but. I would allow her to maintain the idea of realism as long as I dared.
I left her in the quaint living area, while I visited the bathroom for a break. After, I stood in the mirror and stared at my reflection, still not quite used to the shaved back and sides. “You can do this.” I tried, not totally sure I actually could. “Control, Dale,” I whispered. My biggest fear was that I let myself get lost in the role.
Seeing that Jennifer was still sitting contentedly in the living room, bound and gagged, I looked around, spotting exactly what I had been looking for. I went back to her, lifting her off the comfortable sofa and leading her back to my discovery.
The storage closet was basically empty, a dirty little hole where nothing of value was kept, at least until now. “In there,” I demanded. She looked at me for a moment before walking into the cramped little space. There was no light, so when I closed and padlocked the door, she was in complete darkness. ‘Real enough for you, Jen?’ I mused, but chided my excitement immediately afterward.
As I unpacked my stuff, I heard her move every once in a while, and I thought to check on her. After an hour, I couldn’t prevent myself. I heard her move quickly as I snapped open the padlock and swung the door open. What happened next, I was unprepared for. With a sudden quickness, she flew into me, knocking me off my feet as she dashed for the door. Somehow, she had managed to untie her hands and had flown through the front door, and out into the dark of the night.
Maybe the closet was a bit too much realism for her, I thought as I dashed out after her. With nothing on and her bare feet, she couldn’t get far. I slipped my phone from my pocket and searched the woods around the cabin, spotting a flash of white behind a nearby tree. Walking in a direction diagonal to her location, I lurched, grabbing her arm before she escaped.
She fought against me for a moment but then relented almost unnaturally. This was still a game. Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the amount of realism she expected.
“Where the fuck did you think you were going, whore!” I yelled, slapping her breast with my open hand, and watched her reaction. Her gag was still in place, and I can’t imagine, had she been serious about her escape, that it would have been. “How the hell did you get your hands free, anyway?”
Throwing her inside the cabin, and locking the door behind me, I resecured her hands once again. This time, I used the handcuffs I had brought along. I was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be getting out of those, unless her last name was Houdini.
“You have no idea where we are. You might get eaten out there, all naked like that.” I mused, feigning anger. In truth, the only thing that might be eating her were the mosquitos. She was at far greater risk of being eaten right where she was.
I was getting tired of the gag, and the muted responses from her. I grabbed a pair of kitchen shears from the wood block in the galley kitchen and returned. The look on her face was one of excitement and fear. Did she think I was going to cut a bit more of her precious hair?
The knot I had tied had worked up beneath the undercut and was hidden by the carefully sculpted bob. I imagined she liked the way the material felt against her shaved nape. “You know, I can’t quite see to untie this knot. Maybe I should just cut it.” I offered, snidely.
“Then again, I can’t quite see to cut it, either. All this blonde hair is in the way.” I heard her moan audibly as I brought the bulky scissors to the hair just behind her right ear. “This ought to do it.” I chortled as the scissors bit into the hair, cutting across the back of her head, level with the top of the shaved undercut. Two inches of hair tumbled to the floor, and as her knees started to wobble I thought she might actually collapse.
It was obvious that she had cheated the line shaved into the hairline by at least an inch, and I was going to allow her the pleasure of enjoying that exposure to the fullest. As I finished the cut, the attractive chin-length bob looked a bit more like an extreme A-line, the back fully exposing the occipital bone. With a final flourish, I snipped the gag, which she quickly pushed out of her mouth with her tongue. A line of spittle followed the soaked material as it fell from her mouth to the floor.
“That’s better.” I chuckled, running my fingers over the back of her head and enjoying the smooth condition of her scalp. Jennifer was nothing if not meticulous. For the first time I saw her struggle against the cuffs, and I knew it wasn’t to get away but to feel what I had done. “You want to see what I did back there, don’t you?” I mused.
She didn’t reply, but as I led her into the bathroom and she turned sideways to see her hair, she moaned aloud. “Oh, it’s so short.” She complained, even though I knew she was loving it.
“I know how much you want to touch it, to feel it.” I teased. “You’re just going to have to wait.”
Pulling her into the kitchen, I ruffed the hair at the back, knowing what I wanted to do. “You seem to have lost that lovely undercut, Jennifer Scott.” I used her full name because I knew it made her uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want you to be deprived of that, seeing as you have maintained it so well.”
Reaching into the small overnight bag, I pulled out the Bayliss trimmers. Pushing the power on for a moment I let her hear the high-pitched whirr of the precisely machined instrument.
“Oh… I , oh…please, I…” Jennifer stammered, but her hairless pussy gave her away entirely. Her deliciously aromatic juices wet the inside of her thighs, and I smiled when she knew I hadn’t missed that fact.
“Just a little bit of an uncut, how about that?” I suggested, not really giving her any choice in the matter. I pressed her chin down to a slight resistance, but knew all Jennifer really wanted was to get her bound hands to her sex. Pressing the clippers tight against that prominence of skull, I allowed them to feed on the foreshortened blonde locks.
Jennifer moaned loudly as she felt the blades cutting perilously close to her crown. Mounds of hair fell out from under the micro bob I had created only moments before, the covering thinned drastically with my ministrations. Jennifer vibrated with pent-up arousal as I worked across the back, denuding her scalp to an inch below the top of her head.
Once that was done, I examined my handiwork, knowing that it would look odd to stop there. “I think I’m going to have to carry this right the way ‘round, Jen my darling,” I whispered into her half-exposed ear.
“Ohhh, I… please Dale, my job….I…Oh, God!” She finally yelped as she felt the clippers press hard into her sideburn, peeling a good three inches up the side of her head. Carving carefully around her ear, I made certain that the sides were equally as shorn as the back.
The hair that danced lightly over the severe fauxhawk was barely enough to hide the sandpaper stubble beneath. I set the clippers aside, warily unlocking the handcuffs and freeing her hands. I wasn’t sure where her fingers might rush to first, her sex, or to explore her new haircut. The haircut won out.
“Dale, Jesus!” I knew that the sensible side of her psyche might be panicking right then, but at the same time, her fetish for humiliation was in complete control. With the fingers of one hand still examining her denuded scalp, the other found its way to her sex, sliding effortlessly through the well-lubricated slot. “Oh, please, just do the rest. Shave me, dale, take my hair away from me.” She begged.
“What, and ruin this interesting style I’ve created?” I mused, genuinely fascinated by the meager tendrils of blonde hair that did little to hide what lay beneath. “I think you need to enjoy this for a while, Jen.”
Free of her bonds, I allowed her a moment of exploration, following her into the bathroom and the mirror. Smiling, I watched as she adjusted her hair this way and that, trying desperately to conceal the savage undercut. Realizing how futile her efforts were, she huffed, dropping her hands to her side. “There’s just no hiding this.” I think she unconsciously allowed her right hand to merge with her sex once again. I wasn’t even certain she was aware of it.
“That’s the point. You can’t hide it.” I sighed, walking back to the living room, only to have her follow me, almost dutifully, a few steps behind.
“I’m already the laughingstock. This is going to light everything up all over again.” The lust in her tone belied her trepidation.
“And yet, you seem to be enjoying it, just the same.” I glanced down at her fingers, rubbing herself, deliberately staring so she felt my attention. “Do you even know you’re masturbating?” I asked, honestly curious.
Jennifer quickly pulled her hand away from her sex and blushed. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. A few seconds later, she forced herself to answer. “Sometimes, I don’t.” She hung her head, as if ashamed of her hypersexual behavior.
“I guess that makes you an insatiable slut.” I chortled, playing into her fantasy. “Say it, Jen. What are you?”
Jen colored immediately because she knew she was going to say it. She had to. “I’m an insatiable slut.” She mewled almost inaudibly.
“What was that?” I asked, cruelly.
“I’m an insatiable slut!” Jennifer surprised me, screaming out the self-abasing slur at the top of her lungs. “I’ve always been a slut.” She continued, with no encouragement from me. “In high school, my parents took me to a shrink. They’d been watching me.” Again, her hand went to her sex as she remembered, and I made no attempt to curtail her confession. “They told him I’d been masturbating too much.” She whimpered as her fingers seemed to move faster.
“Hey, we all do it.” I comforted.
“They even talked about having me… committed.” Jennifer sighed, and I swore she came just as she imparted that frightening prospect.
“Secretly, you wish they had, don’t you?” Pressing, fascinated to be learning this unknown truth about the girl I had lusted over back in the day.
“I read about it, you know… after. I knew what they did to you in there. They’d cut off your hair, like super short, and tie you up at night.” She almost seemed at peace with the idea.
I almost wanted to assure her that they no longer did that stuff, but why spoil something that was obviously a deeply suppressed fantasy. Having had enough of her self-exposure, I pressed on with the evening’s planned activities. I took a plain old rubber band from one of the drawers in the kitchen, and tied up Jennifer’s hair into a ridiculous tassel, exposing the shorn back and sides.
In a way, it reminded me of her long, luscious braid that I had so deftly stolen from her that evening at Sanctuary. Of course, it was a shadow of its former glory, a measly tuft of straggled straw, poking straight up for its lack of length. “There, that’s better.” I chuckled, amused by how it so egregiously downplayed her beauty. “You should go look at yourself.”
Moving quickly with my permission granted, she let out a low, almost guttural moan as she took in her drastically altered appearance. “God, I look hideous.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I eased, slipping in behind her. “It’s a bit of a post-apocalyptic look, to be sure, but…” I rubbed my fingers against the exposed sides of her head. “… I kinda like it.”
“I’m going to have but a wig or something.” Jennifer sighed.
“That’s up to you, but I’d much prefer you wear whatever style I choose for you, proudly, Jen,” I suggested, firmly.
“Oh, but, I… I just know that…”
“Let me ask you, Jennifer; are there any bald men in your office? You know, the ones that have given up the fight with their male pattern baldness?” I looked at her in the mirror, over her shoulder.
“A few, yes.” She admitted, freely.
“Then you should blend right in.” I slipped the Bayliss trimmers from my back pocket and pressed them against the top of her forehead, my other hand grasping the blonde tuft that begged to be pulled.
“Oh…God, I… please…”
“Beg, Jennifer Scott. Beg me to run these nasty little things right down the center of your head.” The mock sharpness in my tone was so sinister, that I almost winced.
“Oh, Dale, please, I’m begging you. Shave me… shave me!” She yelled.
I paid no attention to her right hand which was busy between her legs, pulling harshly against the hair as I peeled the last of her hair from her head, front to back. “Ahhh…look at you now.” I moaned, my own excitement building.
As her forehead began to extend over the top of her head, Jennifer whimpered in earnest, babbling, but not saying anything intelligible. I knew that she was very near her peak as I pulled away the tuft, holding it out for her in my upturned palm. “Do it with this, slut.”
She grabbed the hair from my hand and pressed it between her legs, soaking it with her copious secretions. I stepped away to observe her. Standing in the doorway of the modest bathroom, Jennifer was a sight to behold. Her bald head exposed; I couldn’t help but picture the wild lust of an animal in heat. Hair was falling in staggered hanks as it broke away from the Malay that was her sopping cunt, rubbing it in for all she was worth.
I thought she might actually drop, her orgasm was so violent. Jennifer stiffened and shook uncontrollably in her ecstasy, and I moved in behind her just before she collapsed into my arms, utterly spent. I reached down and wiped the remaining hair from her sweaty fingers and palm, carrying her into the bedroom.
Exhausted from my own exertions, I stripped out of my clothes, and slipped onto the bed beside her, expectantly. I worried when she didn’t come around immediately, but her smooth and steady breathing assured me that she was simply asleep.
When her eyes finally opened, she was disoriented, pressing her arms into the bedcovers as though she was spinning. “Oh, god!” She yelled, the fingers of both hands flying suddenly to her head, gripping the jet white orb. “It’s done, you did it! Dale, you shaved my head! I’m bald.” The last, a realization that brought with it the exaggerated reality that comes after so sexually charged an event. Relief, shock, and ultimately, regret.
She began to sob, and I earnestly believed that I may have gone too far. “Hey, it’s okay. You look wonderful.” I comforted.
She looked at me and smiled, and I realized, suddenly, that the tears she shed were tears of joy. “Thank you.” She mouthed, sotto voce. I leaned down, unable to stop myself from kissing her tear-soaked lips.
“I wasn’t kidding, you know. You really are stunning, bald.” I sighed, kissing her again, more deeply.
Helping her from the bed, I brought her in front of the mirror, slipping behind her, my naked sex pressed against her firm buttocks. I dipped my head over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. I lifted her chin, forcing her to take in the image.
“You see, Jen. You’re a vision of perfection.”
She turned her head from side to side, examining her newfound nakedness. When her eyes finally met mine in the mirror, she smiled, unabashedly. “No wigs, ever.” She cleared her throat, running her fingers over her scalp. “Just one thing… You need to finish the job.”
3 responses to “Stealing Jennifer Scott, Chapter Three”
My mind is going wild with all the possibilities. I can’t wait to see where you will take us. Thanks.
Thank you very much for your comment, they are always appreciated. Not certain if this storyline is concluded, but it may well be. If I get enough interest in continuing, I may write another chapter but I think I left things fairly well wrapped up. Thanks again,
If it is indeed finished, it was a heck of a ride! Thank you for sharing it with us!