The Apartment (Part One)

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The Apartment

Part One


By Shorngirl


Too good to be True


I didn’t think anything of it, really. When I saw the advertisement for an apartment for rent, and I saw the location, I jumped at the chance.

I had just moved to Rochester, and was staying with family friends until I was able to find someplace to live. It was a good move, having just started my freshman year at university.

The only unfortunate thing was their son. He had the most ridiculous crush on me, bordering on creepy but certainly unhealthy for me. It started with noticing my underwear missing from my dirty clothes hamper. I knew I had just purchased two packs of five, and suddenly I was down to eight.

I tried not to think about this kid jerking off with the crotch of my worn panties under his nose, but the image was just too troubling.

Then, one morning while I was taking a shower, I had this strange feeling I was being watched. I did my best to disregard it, but without warning I flung back the curtain, only to find Markus standing inside the door to the bath.

He immediately ran out, but the damage was done. Not only did I catch him, but in the process, he managed to catch me in a full-frontal. Horrified, I approached his parents, who suggested that I make plans to leave as soon as possible. They even agreed to pay for my first month’s rent and security deposit, in exchange for my keeping mum about the issue, especially as it concerned my parents.

An affordable apartment right near the Eastman campus was unheard of, so I headed downtown to see if it was a good fit. Imagining a total dive, I prepared myself to be disappointed. I was a Piano/Voice major and hoped to enter Eastman’s Piano Performance curriculum once I had established myself. I had been accepted to other schools, but Eastman was at the top of the list for me.

To be honest, the closest parking was the ramp for the university, so I took advantage of my pass, and parked there, choosing to walk the three blocks to the address.

The spinning barber pole distracted me for a minute, until I looked up and saw the ‘for rent’ sign in the window directly upstairs. The person I had spoken with about the place, had said to meet them downstairs, so I assumed that meant the barbershop.

I mustered up some courage and walked in, having never been in one of these wholly masculine establishments in my entire life. A small bell tinkled overhead as the door opened and I walked into what appeared to be an empty shop. Two swivel chairs sat on one side of the room, while a row of utilitarian benches lined the opposite wall.

“I’ll be right with you!” A voice called out from a long hallway that seemed to stretch into darkness at the back of the shop.

Taking a look around, I admired the hand-painted scrollwork that framed two large plate glass mirrors on the business side of the shop. Various hairstyling, utensils were neatly arranged on a white marble counter, while several trimmers hung from hooks beneath. I involuntarily ran my fingers through the length of my chestnut locks, hitting a snag where the tips met my waist and pulling out with a wince.

“You look like you could go for a trim.” A young man said, having caught the pained expression on my face. I extricated my fingers from my hair and turned to face him.

“That’s okay. I just had one.” I said, embarrassed. “I’m here about the apartment?”

“Ah. I was wondering. We don’t usually get too many women in here for haircuts.” He admitted. “I’m Steve.”

“Sarah. We spoke on the phone.” I suggested.

“Hi, Sarah.” He held out his hand, which I took out of politeness. I was still wearing a mask most places, and shaking hands seemed to have gone the way of the Dodo. He seemed perfectly comfortable, so I obliged. “Let me show you the place.”

“You’ll have your own entrance, but it’s just easier to go up the inside stairs from in here,” Steve explained, flipping the closed sign over on the door.

“So, you can get to the apartment from the barbershop?” I asked.

“Not directly, no. But these stairs access the same hallway.” He led the way, and I followed up a narrow flight of stairs that shot straight up with no landing. Doing a one-eighty, we ended up at the opposite end of the hall, and a very sturdy-looking door. “Here it is.”

He inserted a key into what appeared to be a very substantial dead-bolt, throwing it open with a clank. Stepping inside, I was amazed at the change of décor. We had gone from dark and dreary, to light and airy in a few steps. A large Living room/Dining room combination opened into a very modern, and well-appointed kitchen.

“This can’t be right. The Ad said the apartment was six hundred a month.” I fretted.

“Six-Hundred, including all utilities and internet.” He seemed to correct. “There are some stipulations that go along with that reasonable rate, however.”

I suddenly had this awful image in my head, something like ‘room with benefits’. I cringed. “What stipulations?”

“Why don’t we take a look at the rest of the apartment, and then I can go over the particulars with you, should you decide you like it.” Steve indicated a hallway that led away from the kitchen.

“I don’t think there’s any question of that. It’s a beautiful space.” I complimented.

“Thank you. I used to live here myself, before I met my wife.” He admitted. I suddenly felt better about things, but still wondered how he could let the place go for so little money.

The bedroom and en-suite were just as amazing as the rest of the place, but the kickers were the large walk-in shower and soaker tub that just screamed elegance. By the time we returned to the kitchen to talk, I probably would have agreed to sex if it meant I could live there.

“So, Sarah, here’s the deal.” He sighed, as if this was where most people walked away.

I prepared myself for whatever he might propose, but as I looked around, I was hard-pressed to come up with much I wouldn’t do to live there.

“The reason the apartment is so reasonable? There are certain responsibilities that go along with living here. I close up shop downstairs at six. I despise cleaning, despite your current surroundings. You would be responsible for thoroughly cleaning the barbershop downstairs each evening, except for Sundays and Wednesdays, when I’m closed. The stairs give you access to the shop, so you won’t need a key, other than to your apartment and the back door.” He paused, looking for a refusal.

I offered none. “Is that all? Just clean the shop five nights a week?” I mused, thinking it was a bit too good to be true.

“We’re not talking just sweeping and dusting, Sarah. All the clippers and scissors need to be sanitized, as well as the combs and brushes. The counters have to be spotless and the floor immaculate. Do you think you can handle that?” He asked. “Don’t say yes, until I go over with you first-hand what it entails.”

Over the next hour, he explained what my duties would be, and none seemed difficult or all that time-consuming. I explained that I was a music major at Eastman, and that my studies would be more about practicing at school than actual schoolwork. I figured what he was asking me to do would take less than two hours a night, and probably closer to an hour once I grew proficient.

“So, Sarah. What do you say?” He asked, tentatively.

“I accept. I’ll take it.” I answered excitedly.

“Good! I’ll draw up the paperwork, and we can meet tomorrow. You can even move in tomorrow if you like. Being Wednesday, it’s good timing.” Steve offered.

“I can meet you here in the morning, if that’s okay. I have class in the afternoon.”

“Nine o’clock?” He grinned.

“See you then,” I said, avoiding an older gentleman who was on his way into the shop as I was leaving.


Moving In, a Revelation


After I told the Hendersons about the apartment, they were overjoyed at the prospect of it, not to mention how cheap it was. They wrote out a check for twelve hundred dollars without batting an eye. To be honest, I think they were glad to get me out of their house, especially as it concerned their peeping-tom, pervert of a son. I never did tell them about the panties. I figured; let the creep jerk off on them, I wouldn’t want them back anyway.

I did some grocery shopping the following evening and was completely settled into my new place by nine. The first thing I did was run a hot bath in that glorious tub. I even picked up some scented candles for the occasion. I was indeed in heaven.

The only evidence that anything even existed downstairs was the bell, which seemed to resonate through the floor each time a customer entered the shop. It wasn’t annoying, just a reminder of what was happening below.

The first few nights of cleaning were fairly routine, and I followed Steve’s instructions to the letter. Sweeping up the hair that remained on the floor, I then cleaned all the clippers and utensils. I was actually gaining quite a bit of knowledge, learning of the various blade lengths of the clippers as I cleaned them. Shuddering as I cleaned the shortest ones, I wondered what it would be like to feel those whirring blades so close to my skin.

I couldn’t explain this, but as awful a prospect as that would have been, I often would fantasize about just that, right down to the shocked expression on my face in those elegant mirrors.

Then came a moment that seemed to change everything. One particular evening, about two weeks after I moved in, I was in for a surprise. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw as I went to clean the shop.

There, surrounding the one chair was a sea of blonde hair, that seemed to form a ring of gold around its base. I was shocked, but incredibly aroused at the same time. Picking up one of the long strands, I guessed it to be over two feet long. “Was this a man’s hair? Some hippy giving it up, finally?” I asked myself. Without thinking, I held the silky strands to my nose, filling it with the light fragrance of Chanel. “Oh, my god.” I gasped. This was a woman’s hair.

Steve usually at least made an attempt at sweeping up the hair after a cut, but this seemed to be left there intentionally. Shocked by the very nature of what I saw, I got the impression that, somehow, he knew how this would affect me.

I tried to imagine this beautiful blonde, coming in and asking Steve to do this to her. Did she still have any hair left at all? I found it difficult to imagine that she left with any hair on her head, considering the length and volume on the floor.

Slowly, I began to sweep the severed mane into the dustpan, but then had trouble completing the task. I ran quickly upstairs and grabbed a plastic bag. As if I was doing something terribly naughty, I kept looking around to see if anyone was watching. Gathering the hair together, I deposited all of it in the bag and set it aside to bring back to my apartment.

Later, as I rested, I imagined again how that must have felt. To have all that hair cut away from my head. Hell, she was probably bald at the end of it. She remembered there being some blonde remnants on the straight razor when she sterilized it that night. Were they hers?

I took out the transparent bag and gazed at the swirls of blonde that filled it. Slipping a hand under the waistband of my workout pants, my fingers found me already wet. I opened the bag, and the delicious scent of Chanel and whatever shampoo the girl had used that morning wafted into my nostrils. Soon that scent was mixed in the air with my own heady aroma as my pants slowly found their way to my ankles.

With my free hand, I lifted a strand of the severed hair and allowed it to float softly onto my tummy between my navel and the edge of my well-groomed pubic hair. The touch of the silken tendril sent a shiver down my spine, but as I swirled it back and forth over my skin, I came so hard I thought I might have passed out for a moment.

The following morning on my way to class, I stopped downstairs to question Steve about the hair. “You left me quite a mess last night.” I joked. A young man sitting in the chair was getting a trim, scissors only, it looked like.

“Yes, sorry about that. A last-minute customer.” Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“Last minute. Okay.” I supposed. “That must have been something to see.” Not knowing where that statement came from, I made for the door.

“Believe me, Sarah. It was. I think you would have enjoyed it.” He continued with the hair he was cutting, and I carried on to school.

I was convinced now, that Steve had left the hair deliberately for me to find. Not only that, but his statement about me enjoying it seemed to be a double-edged sword. Did he mean I would have enjoyed watching it, or having it done to me?

I was distracted for most of the day, and although my classwork really didn’t suffer, I knew I wasn’t all there. This became especially evident when I was performing a Chopin Etude for my instructor and made several errors.

“You seem distracted today, Sarah.” The professor noticed.

“Sorry, yes. I’ll do better with it tomorrow.” I promised.


Alex and the Video


By the time I got back to my apartment, it was after seven, and I wanted to get the cleaning done so that I could get back to the practice pianos for an hour or two. Heading down the stairs, I found a note on the counter.


“Sarah. Take a break tonight. I’m closed tomorrow so you’ll have all day to clean. Sorry about the mess last night. Oh, and check out this web address. I think you might be entertained.”  Steve.


         Curious, I took the note upstairs. Opening my notebook, I pulled up the address, only to be confronted with some porn advertisement. “Nice one, Steve,” I mumbled, and was about to close the link when a small vignette appeared in the upper right corner of the screen. Beneath it, it only read, ‘Today’s Haircut.’

         I clicked on the box, and it grew to full screen. A title reading “Alex Gets Buzzed” quickly appeared and disappeared, fading from black to a very familiar scene. It was Steve’s barbershop. “Oh my God,” I said out loud. It was obviously being filmed on a phone as it was pretty shaky, at least until it was set down facing one of the chairs.

And suddenly, there she was; the blonde mystery lady. Steve seemed to be conspicuously missing from the shot as she looked up at the camera. Alex, if that was even her real name, was indeed a beautiful girl. Her hair stretched well past her waist as she sat, and before Steve caped her.

She played with her hair for a few minutes, lifting it, and letting it fall again, as if putting on a show. Pausing the video, I retrieved the bag of hair and opened it, allowing the scent to fill the air. ‘What a treat’, I thought, seeing as well as smelling the very hair in the video. Thinking ahead, I had stripped down to my birthday suit this time. I didn’t want anything to come between my fingers and my sex.

Suddenly, her face grew very serious, and then Steve entered the frame holding one of the Oster 76 clippers, with what looked like a very short blade. He held them poised in the middle of her forehead for what seemed like an age, but I have to admit the suspense only served to moisten my sex. Before the blades had sheared their first blonde tendril, my hand had found its way into my naked folds.

To be honest, it was shocking. Steve must have been using a zero blade because the first cut was right to the scalp. “Oh…my…God.” I gasped as the clippers did their worst, stripping row after row of her luscious blonde mane from her head. Again, my hand dipped into the bag, pulling a few strands of the lovely silk to hold under my nose; rub over my face.

All during this, Alex, whom I thought would be crying at this point, seemed to be smiling ear to ear. The closer Steve came to ridding her of everything, the happier she seemed to be. As the last slip of hair fell, I orgasmed hard, my fingers slippery with my excitement. I had pulled out nearly half of the hair from the bag and was quite literally covered in it.

The end of the video was a bit puzzling, as it showed Alex getting up from the chair, sans any hair at all, and walk through the front door of the shop, receding into a blurry end. Fade to black. I had assumed this was her phone, and that she was posting the video. Then, the thought occurred to me that this was actually Steve’s phone, and that he had posted this. I mean, she could have done that for effect, and come back for her phone. Somehow, it didn’t seem likely.

I carefully gathered all the hair, and placed it back into the bag. As I was hiding it in my carefully thought-out spot, (the drawer by my nightstand, lol) I began to wonder what was really happening here. What if it was Steve?

Going back to the site, I tried to gain access to other videos, but they seemed to be locked. The somewhat absorbent membership fee to unlock the videos was not an option, so I was left to wonder.

Things began to calm down for me over the following couple of weeks, and I nearly forgot about the hairy bundle next to my bed. Almost. As the scent of Chanel and shampoo began to fade, I masturbated less and less with the hair as a prop, but I still did.

The idea of having my hair cut in such a manner started to grow more real, and I began to entertain the justification for doing it. The only real hold-up were my upcoming performances. I couldn’t very well walk onto a stage and perform three complex pieces with a bald head and be taken seriously.


Another Victim?


It had been about a month since Alex, (and I’m still doubting that was her real name), had her head shaved downstairs. Suddenly, my suspicions about Steve as the videographer were made more certain. There, surrounding the same chair, was another sea of blonde hair. Instantly, my sex was boiling under my clothes. As I approached the scene, I noticed that the hair was slightly darker than Alex’s and also a bit shorter.

I picked up a few of the scattered locks and held them to my nose, disappointed that they only smelled of shampoo. No expensive Chanel perfume lingering on these tresses. There was no doubt that they were once gracing a girl’s head, however, as I found several bobby pins and a bright blue barrette in and amongst the hair.

Still, there was no way I was throwing it out. Again, I gathered the hair and kept it for myself in a clear plastic bag.

Several days passed, and I waited for Steve to drop me another link, but it never happened. I was disappointed. Biting the bullet, I paid the fee for membership to the site. Suddenly, there were rows and rows of videos, dating back years. Although not all of them were filmed in Steve’s barbershop, there were nine or ten that were. Those were the ones I chose to watch.

It was incredibly erotic to watch these women, all submit to Steve’s clippers, shedding their locks for what I can only assume was monetary compensation. I have to admit to having numerous orgasms while I watched. Then I saw it. At the bottom of the page, there was a link that tantalized me.


Interested? If you’re a young woman, interested in contributing to this site, please click the link below, and you will be directed to the release form page. The shorter you go, the more lucrative the payout. You will find a detailed summary on the release. Once you sign and submit, you are committed to that cut. You will be directed to one of our numerous stylists once you submit, and they will take care of your payment, after the cut and the video is complete.


Of course, I was unable to resist clicking on the link. What popped up seemed to be a standard legal release, which rendered the stylist and site legally protected from any retribution concerning the haircut, and any resulting repercussions. I read through it carefully, but found nothing that seemed out of line. There was a minimum length of hair that they would accept for consideration, and mine fell well beyond that minimum. Then there were the haircuts. Obviously, the most lucrative was a full head shave, which paid a thousand dollars. As the cuts got longer, the payments were smaller. The longest they would allow was a pixie, and that only paid a paltry two hundred dollars.

If I was going to do this, I wanted the full monty. Shaved to the skin for a measly thousand dollars. It didn’t seem like a lot, but if a girl was desperate, or really needed the money, I could see it being a motivator. For me, the money was a secondary bonus. This was about satisfying what had become almost an obsession.

I would never have guessed that I had a hair fetish before I moved to my new apartment. It was very much a part of me now, though. Almost all of my fantasies involved haircutting of some sort.

My most erotic fantasy involved being tied up, naked, to a barber chair and divested of all my hair, top and bottom. It fueled many a hot masturbation session. I had moved past using the hair I had collected as a prop, but still admired my lovely trophies.

I was almost finished completing the form, when I noticed another small link at the bottom of the page, almost hidden deliberately.


X-rated release


This was almost too good to be true, I thought. I stripped out of my pants and fingered myself a little before opening the link.


For those with a little more adventure in mind. In addition to your haircut

agreed to in the standard release, here are some options that pay a bit



I perused the document, masturbating as I read through some of the scenarios they had laid out. About halfway down the list, I found the one I was looking for. Entitled ‘Naked and Bound’, the scene involved my being bodily stripped and tied into the chair. Some play-acting was involved, because they apparently wanted an unwilling victim. The model, as they referred to us, would then be shaved of all her hair, including her eyebrows. There was some language that described full nudity, and genital exposure.

As I brought myself off imagining this scene playing out, I realized that I was essentially submitting myself as a porn star. The pay included an additional two thousand dollars, which seemed fair, considering I would undoubtedly be immortalized on the web in all my shaved and naked glory.

After a great deal of trepidation, and many, many orgasms, I submitted the forms. Yes, both of them! The elation I felt as I clicked that button was overwhelming. I had committed, and there was no backing out.

Of course, after I had exhausted myself, there came inevitable regret. What had I done?! A few hours later I received an email, describing the scene to which I had committed as well as the barber who would be performing the act. Of course, it was Steve. What I hadn’t realized, was that, unlike the haircuts that had previously been filmed downstairs, this would involve a small film crew.

My performances would be complete, and the semester over, only three days before the big event. That was cutting it close. It also meant that I would have a full four weeks to grow out my hair before spring semester, which I figured would resemble a longish clipper-cut by then.

Of course, Steve was informed of the deal as well, and I fully expect a visit from him. It came a few days later.

“Hi, Steve,” I said, smiling as I opened the door for him to come inside.

“Sarah.” He returned, a little sternly. “I suppose you know why I’m here.”

“I was counting on it,” I said, not nearly as seriously.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve contracted for, Sarah?” Steve questioned, concerned.

“Believe me, Steve, I’m well aware.” Almost boasting.

“I mean this is pretty much a porn film here, honey. All but the fucking part.” He qualified, not shy at all about the forward language. I guess he figured that if I was submitting to something like this, language was the least of it.

“I don’t think you realize what has happened to me over the last few months, Steve.” I rationalized. “Since I’ve started working in a barbershop, I’ve developed a rather obsessive hair fetish. I have to say, that your leaving all that hair around for me to find, fed that fetish, nicely.”

“Toying with you a bit, guilty, and I thought that maybe you might come down and have me give you a trim or something, at best a shorter cut. I would never have suspected this, and I hope that I haven’t corrupted you, because that was not my intention.”

“You’re looking at this as a bad thing, Steve. I’m actually incredibly excited about doing this, and I was hoping you would be too.” I pointed out.

“Well, now that you put it that way, I feel like a complete asshole.” He stammered. “Of course, I’m excited, Sarah. No offense, but you are a beautiful young lady, and to have the opportunity to work with you on this is both an honor and a privilege. I just hope this doesn’t sexualize the friendship we’ve developed.”

“I’ll be honest, after the shoot, things will probably be a little awkward. You’re going to see me during the most exposed and vulnerable experience of my life, but I think we can get past it. I know I can, if you can”

“And I’ll be honest too, Sarah. This is the first of these shoots I’ll be doing, and I’m nervous as hell. I know what I have to do, but the idea of doing that to you is a bit overwhelming.”

“Listen, Steve. Just know that I like the rough stuff, to a point, and the rest, well, I’ll be having the time of my life.” I paused for a moment. “They are going to want me to masturbate during this aren’t they?” I asked, softly.

“It’s part of the script, yes.” He admitted.

“Well, that’s good, because I will definitely want to. You can expect some monster orgasms.” I shamefully confessed.

“You know, I’m going to have to come clean to my wife about this. As much as I would regret it, there’s a possibility that my partner might need to do the shoot.”

“Partner? I didn’t even know you had a partner.” I pressed.

“Yes, she’s a bit of a silent partner. She only uses the shop once or twice a month. I’ll let you know well in advance who will be doing the cut.” Steve assured me.


The Game Changer… Shelby


So, suddenly there was a wild card thrown into the mix. There was a pretty good possibility that a woman might be doing this scene with me. This ignited my fantasies even more. I never really talked much about it, but I was a bit of a closet lesbian at the time. Why I’d never come out was beyond me, but I think my parents had figured it out by the time I left for college. Something to do with never dating boys.

I supposed that if I ever met the right girl. I would be forced to come clean, but that occasion hadn’t presented itself in my life.

Sure enough, a few days later, I got a visit from Steve, apologizing for his inability to do the scene with me. His wife just would go for it. He was certainly more disappointed than I was, I have to admit.

“So, who is this partner? Do I get to meet her before the shoot?” I asked, reasonably.

“Her name is Shelby. She seemed excited about doing it. She already knows who you are, as she’s a co-owner of your lease. You can expect a visit from her later today.”

“Today? That’s kind of short notice, Steve.” I complained. After our talk, I quickly set about cleaning the apartment, which was in a bit of a state. End of term had me concentrating on my playing and exams, so housework fell off the bottom.

At around three o’clock there was a knock at my door, and I held my breath. Was this someone that I was going to be excited about working with? As soon as I opened the door, I was instantly aroused. This woman oozed sexuality, from her sharp pixie haircut to her evocative clothing. Her breasts were almost bursting out of her top, and I had to fight to keep my eyes up.

“Sarah? Hi. I’m Shelby.” She held out her hand.

For a moment, I sort of just stood there, dumbfounded. Then as if I had sat on a pin, I lurched forward, awkwardly taking her hand and ushering her inside. “Hi. Nice to meet you, Shelby.” I managed.

Inside, my mind was reeling. This drop-dead gorgeous woman was going to be shaving me head to toe? My pussy was literally soaking my panties, and I worried that it was going to be all too evident before our visit was over.

“So. It sounds like we’re in for a bit of fun, yeah?” Her slight British accent only enhanced how I was feeling about her.

“You’re okay with doing…all those… things.” God, I sounded illiterate all of a sudden.

She laughed. “Okay? Honey, this is going to be absolutely brilliant.” She took a seat on the sofa I had offered. “Look at you. How could I not be excited.”

All of a sudden, I got the very distinct impression that Shelby was gay. That thought nearly sent me over the edge, and I had to steady myself.

“So, do I get to see what I have to work with?” Shelby asked.

The question conjured up images of a casting couch and sexual favors for acting roles. Jeez. “Really?” I asked, meekly.

“Might as well get to know each other now. It’ll make the scene a little easier for you, and me, trust me.” Shelby offered.

I was torn between misplaced modesty and abject sexual overload. Every hormone in my body was screaming to do a striptease for this delectable treat, while my sane mind argued for restraint. The hormones won. “Okay?” I sighed, questioning myself.

Slowly, I began removing my top. I had neglected to wear a bra that day, so my breasts immediately popped out from under the jumper as I lifted it over my head. Shelby seemed very interested as I unbuttoned my jeans, slowly peeling them down my hips and off, the material falling into a donut at my ankles. I was suddenly very aware of how excited I was, the sudden exposure to air, sending cool waves of pleasure through my sex. As I looked down, the wet spot on my panties was more than evident, and I was suddenly horrified.

I wanted to apologize, but looking at Shelby I got the impression that my obvious arousal only added to her amusement.

“Well, somebody’s excited.” She added, superfluously.

I wanted to get the humiliation over all at once, so I whipped off my panties, exposing my pulsating sex to her probing eyes. “There, all naked,” I said, not even sure why I had explained my predicament.

“I see that.” She moved closer, and for a moment I thought she was going to reach out and touch my sex. “No more trimming this before the shoot.” She ordered.

I had always kept my bush nicely trimmed, and at times had even shaved it all together. It was so arousing to have this woman directing my grooming. “Okay. No trimming the pubes.” I confirmed.

“The more hair there, the better.” She tugged on the tufts that grew from the sides of my labia, surprising me. “Kneel down.” As if nothing could be more natural.

Without question, I knelt down before her. The fact that I was totally naked and she was completely clothed suddenly dawned on me, and only served to excite me further. As she ran her fingers through my doomed locks, I couldn’t help myself. My fingers found their way to my sex, and I slid one through my copiously wet slot. It did not go unnoticed.

“I want you to start conditioning your hair twice, when you wash it, Sarah. The more luxurious the hair is, the more dramatic the cut seems.” She slapped my hand away from my sex. “And if I want you to come, I’ll be doing the honors. Is that clear?”

A moan involuntarily escaped my lips as her hand replaced mine. I couldn’t stop my hips from thrusting forward as she slipped two fingers into my virgin cunt. “Oh, sweetie. You’ve never been with a man, have you?” She had obviously felt my very intact hymen. “Good thing I checked.” And with that, she thrust her fingers deeper, and a sliver of pain shot through me, one that echoed up through my spine. It was quickly replaced with intense pleasure, however, but my virgin pussy was no more.

“Shelby, I…”

“I’ve never popped a cherry before, Sarah. Thank you for that honor.” She offered, solemnly. When she pulled her fingers free from my sex, the tips were coated in my blood.

“I’m… I’m bleeding.” I sighed, still incredibly aroused.

“It’s alright, baby. You needed that before the shoot, especially considering what I have planned for you.” Shelby grinned.

“What do you have planned?” Asking the obvious question.

“Oh, that’s for me to know, and you to find out later, my soon-to-be hairless slave.” She chided. “Now, if you can stop worrying about yourself, I have a very urgent need here.”

She quickly unsnapped her jeans, lowering them until her completely hairless sex came into view. It didn’t look shaved, and I soon found out, it wasn’t. Lowering my mouth to her sex, I eagerly took her hairless vulva into my mouth, its silky-smooth surface adhering wetly to my lips. My tongue shot out automatically, tasting the salty-sweet juices that beckoned me deeper.

Shelby softly directed me, my attentions to her needs strictly overseen as I experienced my first taste of a pussy other than my own. I desperately wanted to touch myself, but at her direction, I abstained. I drank her in, my tongue scooping her luscious juices into my mouth, swallowing them, willingly, eagerly.

When she finally had me encircle her clitoris with my lips and tongue, Shelby came hard, another flood of heavenly juice flooding my mouth with her orgasm.

“You took all of it, didn’t you, my sweet?” She cooed.

“I did.” Surprising myself with my candor over so overtly intimate an act.

“Soon, all of this will be gone.” She ran her hands through my chestnut tresses, fingering its length to the tips.

“Yes, it will.” I sighed, my obvious arousal over the idea coming across loud and clear.

“What will you do then, little Sarah.” Shelby teased, knowing how her words caressed the very core of my newly borne fetish.

“I’ll be bald, and…” I groaned, unable to finish.

“You’ll be bald… and… what, little Sarah?” She asked, seductively, her use of ‘little Sarah’ not going unnoticed.

I remembered how she had referred to me, but I only took it as part of the scene. Now I realized that her intentions were far more lasting. “I’ll be bald… and your slave.” The admission sending a torrent of sexual tension through my loins. I simply had to come, and she could see the desperation in my eyes.

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you Sarah?” She asked, not expecting an answer. I rubbed against her hand with my cheek as she caressed me. “I wonder how pretty you’ll be without all this?” She ran her fingernails roughly over my scalp, digging her fists into my hair and pulling, eliciting a gasp from my parted lips. “I wonder how far these ears are going to stick out from this hairless bulb of a head you’ll have.” Again, I groaned as she pulled roughly on my ears, stretching them outward as if prepping them for their complete exposure.

“I want to be your bald slave,” I admitted with a gasp as she pushed me away, falling off my knees and onto my naked ass.

“And you will be, little Sarah. You will be.” She smiled broadly. “Now lay back, spread your legs wide as you can, and come for me like the wanton slut you know you are.”

Instantly, my knees were kissing my shoulders as I exposed my splayed open cunt for her. My fingers were already working my clitoris furiously, my grunts and groans confirming just how right she was about me.


The Big Night


My performance exam was a huge success, and there had been accolades from all my professors as well as some of the other students. If they only knew the real me, the Sarah that had suddenly become obsessed with her hair, or lack thereof. The Sarah that had so willingly pledged herself to a woman named Shelby, was a far cry from the prim and proper concert pianist that graced the keys with her talented fingers. If they knew I was destined to be her slave, I wondered if they would still think so highly of me.

In the end, none of it mattered. The semester had ended three days before, and the day had finally arrived. Steve had closed up the shop a bit early so the film crew had time to set everything up. The shoot was scheduled to begin at eight, but Shelby had arrived closer to five, and had made herself comfortable in my apartment. My submission to her was not to be official until after she had shaved me, but she wasted no time in exerting her newfound authority over me.

As soon as she arrived, she had me strip out of my clothes. I had questioned my decision to give myself to this woman over and over, but to be honest, it just felt right. No one else; no other girl or woman had elicited these feelings within me. I was smitten, and that was all there was to it.

It started out with my simply waiting on her, her naked slave fixing her a drink or running her a bath, cooking a meal for her. It ended with my being her footstool, kneeling on all fours while she propped her naked feet in the small of my back.

I had grown accustomed to her ultra-smooth pussy, learning that she had had all her hair lasered off. Of course, she promised to do the same to me, once I was her slave, officially.

When the time finally approached to head downstairs, I changed into the clothes that had been purchased for me for the shoot. The material was gauze-like, and would make for it easily being torn away from my body when the time came. Shelby helped me style my hair, taking extra care to make sure it looked its absolute best. As promised, my pubic hair had grown out to a rather unruly patch, which pleased Shelby no end.

At first, the shoot was strictly scripted, especially the scene where Shelby rips off my clothes and binds me to the barber chair. I put up a struggle as they had asked, but all I really wanted to do was submit to whatever they wanted.

Once I was finally naked and strapped into the chair, my mouth, which had been spouting obscenities at her from the start was plugged with a ball-gag, reducing my protestations to a muffled non-sensical rant.

Shelby moved around the chair, menacingly waving the whirring Osters over my head, threatening me with what inevitably was going to occur. I feigned distress, but deep within, all I wanted was to feel those clippers against my scalp.

Finally, my wish was granted. Even though I fought against the bonds, my helpless cunt streamed as the clippers made their first devastating pass through my chestnut hair. So many thoughts rushed through my head in that moment, most of them so sexually charged that they were hard to describe in hindsight. Somewhere, however, in the back of my mind, my sane self, which had been moored firmly to the back, broke free of its bonds. For a moment, and only a moment, my struggles became all too real. The realization of what was happening to me struck home, and the tears that had fallen from my eyes in jest, were now grounded in fear.

Shelby was far too astute to miss this moment of realization, and used it against me, whispering into my ear. “Too late, my little piano princess. Too late.” And just like that, my old self was obliterated once and for all by the lust-driven slut that I had become. Realizing the moment had passed, Shelby continued with the shearing.

Just as she had predicted, my ears, which I had always thought of as dainty, suddenly stuck out starkly from the sides of my balding head. They may have been small, but they stood straight out, like little handles to grab. Of course, this realization only made me hotter, and I thrust my still straggly cunt upward in hopes of getting some attention.

It was met with a sharp slap, driving me firmly back into the chair. By now, the clippers had fallen silent, and the lathering of my head had begun. For safety’s sake, all my struggles ceased at that point, replaced with obvious arousal. Shelby would stop her shaving and fiddle with my clit, the razor’s edge dangerously close to my delicate flesh. Then she would continue with the total depilation of my head. Stroke after stroke, the razor’s edge only added to my utter humiliation, the film crew zooming to my face several times to catch my, oh so evident excitement. With three or four quick strokes, Shelby had reduced my eyebrows to smooth, expressionless ridges.

“Now look at yourself,” Shelby uttered, stepping aside so that I could see my reflection. “No more pretty princess, I don’t think.” She improvised. “Now for the rest.” Rubbing her hands together.




Long after the film crew had wrapped, and the barbershop was returned to normal, I was anticipating the moment when Shelby would exert her authority over me. We had retired back to my apartment, celebrating the success of the shoot with some champagne.

I was still trying to come to terms with the ‘new me’, this utterly hairless creature with a bald bulb for a head and two dorky ears that poked out like some deranged comic strip character. I was three-thousand dollars richer, to be sure, but having to live with this look was going to be a bit daunting.

We were both exhausted, to be honest, but I wondered what happened to the assertive authoritarian that had dominated me so well both before and during the shoot. I thought that perhaps the evening had just taken it out of her, just as it had me, but I had to admit to being disappointed.

I took the initiative, kneeling before her as she relaxed on the sofa. Still naked and hairless as a Sphynx cat, I hoped that I might elicit a response. I bent my head forward so my shiny bald head was fully exposed to her.

“You’re frighteningly homely without all that hair, Sarah.” Shelby disclosed, not that I wasn’t embarrassingly aware of that very fact. “What am I going to do with an ugly slave?”

Her words, true as they were, humiliated me even more than I thought I could be already. Was I not even worthy of being her slave? “I’m sorry.” I mewled.

“Sorry for what, Sarah?” She asked, perking up.

“I’m sorry I’m so ugly.” I agonized, feeling lower than I thought I ever could.

“Well, you can’t help it, can you?” She paused, running her fingers over my glass dome, contemplatively, paying special attention to my protuberant ears.

My god, how far I had fallen. A week before, I was a goddess on the stage. With my long flowing mane cascading down my back, I dazzled an auditorium full of classically trained musicians with my artful wizardry on the piano. I had tackled some of the most technically challenging pieces allowed, and I had killed it. The praise and accolades had been rolling in, even as I prepared for this fateful night.

Now, where was I? Kneeling at the feet of a woman, who had singlehandedly rid me of all that made me outwardly beautiful. I had promised her my service as her slave, and yet I was now so ugly, so unacceptable, that even for that lowly station, I was deficient.

“I suppose I will have to take you in… ” she finally said, “ …but, it will be on my terms, and you must agree to those terms, unconditionally.”

So relieved that she had relented and accepted me as her servant, I immediately burst into tears. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Sarah. You have no idea what those terms entail.” Shelby warned.

“I’m just so grateful that you’ll have me, as hideous as I am now.” I bawled.

“Well, here it is, then. You’re to give up this lovely apartment and move in with me, where you will remain as my slave, until I say you can leave.”

“I agree…”

“Wait for it… I’m not done. “As ugly as you are, you are uniquely interesting in this hairless state. As long as I am your Mistress, you are to remain as you are, hairless.” I looked up and met her eyes, and there was no levity in them at all. She was dead serious.

“But what of my studies?” I asked, almost begging.

“You are to continue your studies at Eastman, but there will be no hiding the new you. You must attend openly, as hairless and unappealing as you are.”

“How will I explain…”

“Alopecia Universalis. That will be your only explanation.” Shelby insisted.

I had heard of this disorder, and knew that it could strike at any age, and render a person completely devoid of any hair. Still, the idea of appearing for classes completely bald, and with these ears, went beyond humiliation. After such a high the previous semester, my notoriety would subject me to incredible scrutiny, and people in such a competitive environment could be incredibly cruel.

Still, the thought of serving Shelby was an incredible draw, one that I was not willing to give up. I was going to have to be incredibly resilient to endure the humiliations that lay in store for me, but I simply could not walk away from this woman. “As long as I can continue my studies, I agree to your terms.”

“Why are you doing this, Sarah?” She asked, honestly.

“Because I have never met a woman who enthralled me the way you do, Mistress.” I submitted.

“Very well, slave.” She opened the door to my apartment. “We should go then.”

So, leaving everything behind, I walked out the door of my beautiful apartment, completely naked and totally hairless. I would never return.


To be Continued…



4 responses to “The Apartment (Part One)

  1. Oh my! This story is perhaps the best one yet, Claire! I absolutely was enthralled with this story. The domination and submissive element to this story was very powerful. I look forward to reading what is going to happen with Shelby and Sarah next.

  2. Such a great story! I love how you describe Sarah’s ears and how she feel about them. Besides, I would like to read about her return to class and how she explains her new do. As a suggestion, Shelby should impose on Sarah to go to class dressed in plain clothes (cut-off shorts with flip-flops and a t-shirt) and not as a goddess. Looking forward for the next installment.

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