The Circus

The Circus

By Shorngirl

Elise paged through the newspaper want ads in what had, up until then, been a fruitless search for employment. She had been let go from her old position some six months before, and with the government subsidy checks nearly at an end, there was an air of desperation about her.

Elise hated the idea of collecting anything for free, and were it not completely necessary, would have opted not to take the redundancy compensation. Giving up on the job offerings, she strayed to entertainment.

Elise’s tastes ran to the wild side of crazy, and she had been known to explore the various kinky venues that always seemed to be open, whenever she felt the need for being overtly amused.

This advertisement was different from any she had seen before. It was, by the look of things, a traveling show, and boasted the most bizarre of spectacles. For whatever reason, Elise couldn’t get the idea of the old ‘freak show’ out of her mind, with all the negative connotations to go along with it.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, but this was one instance where Elise was not going to listen to her conscience. She purchased a ticket online, and planned to go the upcoming Friday.

Elise’s dreams were disturbed that night, with images and situations that only a mind such as hers might imagine. She was an avid reader, and always found that her mind could conjure a much better setting for a scene than any movie producer ever could. She was inevitably disappointed when she attended a film, where she had previously read the book.

As she mulled over her decision to go to this, thing, swirling the coffee that rarely is ever woke her up sufficiently. Startled, Elise’s mobile rang, and she checked the screen to see if it was yet another sales call for something she couldn’t possibly use. The call was local, so she decided not to let it go to voicemail.

“Hello?” Sounding as perky as she could manage.

“Good morning. May I speak to Elise Whittington please?”

“This is she. How may I help you?”

“Elise, so glad we reached you. This is the human resources director at Brigham Entertainment Services. I wanted to reach out to you to see if you are still interested in an interview?”

Elise tried to remember the place, or if she had even been there in person. The lion’s share of the applications she had filled in were online. In any event, an interview was an interview, and she would most certainly be going. “Yes, very much.”

“Good news, good news. How does ten o’clock Friday work for you?” The young woman asked.

“I am free Friday morning, yes, that will be fine.” Elise pulled up the calendar app on her tablet, poised for the details. As the woman rattled them off, Elise carefully entered them, and they said their goodbyes, each seemingly excited to meet the other.

Elise finished off her coffee which had gone cold, but she hardly noticed. After looking back at her notes, the job was for a research assistant, and would be the best paying job she had ever had, should she be so fortunate as to pass the interview.

The prospect put a lift in her step for the rest of the day, and she found herself in the mood to go shopping. She hopped into her Dacia Sandero and headed for the High Street.

Friday…

Friday came so much faster than Elise was prepared for. All she had thought about the previous night was the interview, and how very important it was that she performed well. Of course, her sleep suffered, and she was forced to take something, which inevitably made her hungover in the morning.

“God, why do I get so worked up over these things?” She asked herself aloud. “Now I feel like absolute shit, and I’m heading for the most important meeting of my entire life. What the fuck.”

Elise donned the new suit that she had purchased that Wednesday, and had to admit that even in her lowly state, she looked brilliant. A little makeup, and her face would match the rest of her, she thought.

Elise couldn’t believe how well the interview had gone, and the young woman had told her so. Unless something unforeseen happened, she was almost guaranteed the job. She was ready to take on the world.

As she rummaged through her purse for the keys to her car, she came upon the ticket for the show that evening. She had printed it out and stuck it in there just to prevent her from forgetting it. Elise sat in the car, and eyed the ticket, wondering if she still wanted to go.

“Think of it as a night out to celebrate your new job.” She told herself.

The ‘Circus’ as it called itself, moved from location to location and was currently located in a warehouse, three towns south of Elise. When she pulled up to the place, it was a bit frightening. The warehouse seemed almost abandoned, and lighting was sparse, to say the least. For a moment, she considered a change of plans, very nearly restarting her car to head for home.

That was when she saw a young couple enter the door. A sign which simply said ‘CIRCUS’ in large block letters hung over the unassuming entrance. “Well, if they can go in, so can I,” Elise whispered under her breath. She had dressed appropriately for the night, her tight leatherette pants and top making her look sleek and sexy. She had worn her longish blonde hair in an up-style that looked messy but trendy. Then there were the boots. Well, they made her look a good five inches taller than she was, and set off her already slender legs. She checked herself in the side window of her car, and locked it, satisfied with her appearance.

Smiling at the rather large doorman, she handed him her ticket. He said nothing as he examined it, but simply indicated the direction she should walk, with a flick of his wrist.

There were surprisingly few people there, but then again it was a specialized event, and it was quite early. Elise almost expected there to be cages, or at least a collection of stages where people might be displayed. Instead, the Circus made use of the various offices which lined the walls of a much larger space.

The music was weirdly ambient setting an eerie tone to the entire room. There was a stand at the middle which seemed to be serving drinks, so Elise made her way there first, before exploring any further. Her appearance had not gone unnoticed.

As she stood sipping her drink, two women approached her and struck up a conversation.

“You look new.” The one girl said, the multiple piercings in her face causing Elise to do a double-take. “Are you part of an act, or are you just here to…watch?” She asked, seductively.

“I’m just here to watch, I guess,” Elise said, quietly.

“You guess?” The other girl chided. “You better be sure, or you might just end up an act all by yourself.” She eyed Elise up and down, then turned to walk away with her friend, hand in hand.

“How very strange,” Elise said under her breath. A few more people had arrived, and the central room was abuzz with quiet conversation, just audible over the music.

“Good evening.” A male voice boomed, startling nearly everyone. The music had stopped, and a rather gaunt-looking man stood at the end of the room. “Welcome to… Circus.” Upon him saying that word, a very tall and very naked woman walked out of the room closest to him and took her place at his side. “This…” He indicated the woman, “is Para.” She bowed deeply. “She will be your guide through our strange and sometimes macabre world of fetish.”

After the opening speech, the group was guided from room to room, where they were exposed to some of the most bizarre spectacles Elise had ever witnessed in person. The displays were too numerous to extrapolate fully, but one, in particular, caught her attention. Each of the displays or acts were labeled above the door by their medical names, such as Mazophilia or Formicophilia, but the one that seemed to strike her the most was Trichophilia.

Here, a woman seemed to be obsessed with the hair of a girl who was naked and bound to a chair at the center of the room. Elise recognized the girl in the chair as the one who had warned her to be careful earlier. The woman in charge of the scene was busy brushing, combing, and even smelling the girl’s long black hair.

It was when the scissors came out of the woman’s pocket that Elise found herself holding her breath. For a while, she toyed with them, making snipping motions but not cutting. It was when she dipped the blades into the hair near the girl’s ear that Elise gasped. The scissors closed, and a long tendril of hair slid lifeless to the floor.

The woman laughed as if she was possessed, slicing hank after hank of this poor girl’s hair away from her head. As shocking as it was to witness, Elise could feel the moisture seeping out of her, slicking the inside of the warm faux-leather pants.

Every once in a while, the girl would look in her direction, knowingly. The shearing seemed almost personal when their eyes would meet, and Elise could see the arousal in her as the woman massacred her locks. In the end, the girl was left with next to nothing on her head. Elise imagined it must have been a shattering experience, because she was fairly undone just watching.

When the last act was complete, they were all invited to join the participants for cocktails, something Elise was more than interested in. Of course, these people must be used to the same inane questions being asked, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to know. It was somehow comforting to see these same people that had been so embroiled in fetish, laughed and cajoling with their audience. It lent some humanity to what Elise had just witnessed.

“What did you think?” A small voice inquired from behind her.

Elise turned to find the same girl, her hair now buzzed to a fraction of an inch standing before her. She almost reached out to touch it but restrained herself. “The show was very entertaining. I have to admit though, I found your show absolutely breathtaking.”

“Yes, I saw your reaction in your eyes.” She mused. “It turned you on, didn’t it?” Elise could only nod. “It must be your fetish, then.”

“So now what?” Elise asked. “You obviously can’t do that again for a while.”

“Nope. It’s a one-off.” She said, mournfully. “I’ll a be part of the show somewhere though. I have a few fetishes. Hair is just one.” She admitted, freely.

“I hope they compensate you well for your…sacrifice,” Elise said, admiring how close her hair had been shaved.

“The Trich booth is up to a thousand quid. It’s by far the most popular act.” She boasted. “The salary around here isn’t bad, altogether though. You ought to give it go. You’ve certainly got the looks for it.” She did a quick scan of my head. “And the hair.” She chuckled. “They’re always looking for new blood.”

“You know, I just landed a job today, as a matter of fact.” Elise offered, in consolation.

“Blow it off. This is so much more fun.” She giggled, walking away to speak to the woman who had so mercilessly cut her hair. As she followed her with my eyes, Elise couldn’t help but meet the look the other woman gave her. It was as though she knew how much Elise had been turned on by what she had done.

Elise left the warehouse in a bit of a fog. She had enjoyed the shows, or the acts, as it were, but the one room haunted her. That night she dreamed of being that girl in the chair, while this seemingly mad woman had at her hair, hacking her lovely blonde curls into nothingness. The dream and the imaginings persisted.

Elise, About Two Years Later…

As expected, I was hired for the new job, and it was every bit as boring as I suspected that it might be. The money was good, and it afforded me many things that I previously could not afford. I was good at my job, and although it was not a challenge to me, it was better than what I had been doing.

Life went on, but that stark image of the girl in the Circus haunted me in my dreams. It was as though a seed had been planted that night, and it had grown into something that both intrigued and frightened me. Many times I had to fight the urge to duck into a salon or (god forbid) a barbershop and have them hack my hair off short, drastically short. But I knew that they wouldn’t give me what I wanted. There wasn’t a hairdresser or barber out there that do that. I tried to imagine it, being forcibly stripped and tied to a chair while my precious hair was taken from me, roughly, sadistically, until there was nothing but stubble remaining on my lily-white scalp.

The thing was, I loved my hair. I loved how it looked, how it felt, and I worried that one day my penchant for this fetish might push me over the edge. Would it drive me to do the unthinkable?

I had been at my new job for almost two years, when the one thing I dreaded more than anything else occurred. The Circus was back. I stared at the ad, knowing that there was no way I could prevent myself from returning. It was as though I was powerless to stop myself from purchasing the ticket. When I clicked the print button and the ominous admission pass appeared on my Epson, it was as though I had lost the battle. Was there any way I could stop myself from becoming part of that strange and macabre world that was the Circus?

Friday…

My recollection of the show was as clear as if I had seen it only a few days before, and yet it had been over two years. When the day finally came, and I knew that in only a few hours, I would be there, in that place, a strange but wonderful resolve swept over me. I would allow whatever happened, to simply happen, and not allow my thinly veiled grasp on normality to influence my decisions. For once in my life, I would give in to my needs, and let them rule me.

I was pleased to see that the Circus was being put on at the same location, the rather dour-looking warehouse now familiar to me. Gone was the misplaced hesitance that plagued me the first time. It was the same large man that took my ticket at the door, but for some reason, he seemed more welcoming. Was my attitude to blame? I wondered.

There were more people present this time, and there also seemed to be more participants as well. The same rooms with the same technical names bordered the walls of the place, and I found the fetishes they represented comforting. I remembered being put off by some of the displays, and shocked by a few of the acts. Now, as I was guided through by the same fascinating tour guide, I was intrigued and even aroused by some of the spectacles that were represented.

I saw many that seemed to have the same look of shock and distaste that I must have displayed on my first time through. Their faces brought a smile to mine, knowing what I knew, and hotly anticipating my favorite act. But, as we approached the room that I so looked forward to, I noticed that it was dark.

I approached Para, our guide. “What of Trichophilia?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, it happens, occasionally.” She frowned. “We were unable to secure a suitable participant.” She looked away, and then immediately back to me. “Perhaps tomorrow, we will be more fortunate.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, perhaps,” I answered, pulling the pins from my hair to let it cascade down my back.

“We should talk.” She mused. “During the social.” Speaking to the group as she turned away, we were led to the next exhibit.

I watched as the vendor poured a glass of Chardonnay into my glass and hand it to me with a smile. I tried to pay, but she simply held up her hand, indicating Para who stood directly behind me.

“What is your name, girl?” She asked, sipping at a colorful concoction.

“Elise.” Doing the same, the wine tasting particularly dry.

“Well, Elise.” She set her drink down on a convenient table and indicated a chair opposite the one she was taking. “Please, let’s chat.”

Saturday…

The day seemed to pass as any other Saturday, despite my being overwhelmingly nervous over my intentions. I had paid close attention to my hair that afternoon, being certain to wash and condition it carefully. Where I would normally allow it to air dry, I spent some time straightening it with my seldom-used blow-dryer. With all the curl removed, the length seemed to extend a further six inches down my back, the ends resting just above my ample bottom.

Something else I did, which I hadn’t done in many years, was shave my pubic hair. I had to admit to being acutely aroused as I worked the razor over my mons and lips. The soft blonde curls would slowly circle the drain and then disappear as they fell away from my sex. When at last the job was done, I had to stop myself from masturbating.

Before leaving for the Circus, I performed a few tasks that had been wanting to be done all day. Was I not certain of myself? I sat in my car for a few minutes before leaving, just to confirm that this was, in fact, what I wanted. A few moments later I was driving south, without a doubt in my mind.

There was an inner courtyard to the warehouse that housed the vehicles and transports that moved the Circus from place to place. This was where I parked. The jeans and sweater I wore were in stark contrast to the way I normally dressed, but then again, I would not be wearing them for long.

As I stepped into the busy backscene, I was immediately welcomed by Para and several of the actors, which was what I learned they referred to themselves as.

“Everyone!” Para called out, garnering the attention of the busy group. “Please welcome Elise. She has come to us to help out with our Trichophilia display.”

There was a round of polite applause before the group returned to their preparations. Of course, I was approached by a number of them, fawning over my hair, and mourning my sacrifice, preemptively.

Finally, I was brought to the woman who would be performing my ‘destressing’ as it were. I did not recognize her at first, her hair cropped close to her head, but then as I regarded her in a better light, I knew her at once. She was not the cutter from before, she was the girl who had had her hair cut off.

“Well, well. Took you long enough, Elise.” The girl chortled. “I’m Brooke, and I’ll be your nemesis tonight.” She pulled a set of scissors from her back pocket, opening and closing them menacingly.

“You remember me?” I asked, amazed.

“I never forget a face, especially one as lovely as yours.” Brooke had me follow her to a small dressing room, and closed the door behind us. “Hmm, let’s see what we have to work with here.”

Knowing to what she referred, I began to remove my clothes until all that remained was my socks. Brooke raised her eyebrows and glanced down at my feet, prompting me to remove those too. While I was undressing, Brooke explained how she was in my place only a few weeks before, explaining her closely tonsured head. She admitted to having done it four times since the one which I had witnessed.

She took the socks from my hand, bringing them to her nose almost out of habit. “Some people like feet, what can I say.” She giggled.

I remembered the display labeled Podophilia, and thought for a second that it was something I would object to strongly. The similarity the name bears to that other unacceptable perversion, threw me, until I realized what it was. I found that I was strangely aroused by the two women orally worshipping one another’s toes.

“Yes, I may be of the same ilk,” I admitted. Standing before her completely naked while she was clothed was a new experience and one that I found especially titillating.

“Well, perhaps we’ll see about that later.” Brooke grinned. “I see you shave.” Indicating my sex.

“Yes, I hope that’s okay.” I sighed, worriedly.

“Honey, it’s almost a necessity around here.” She said, pulling down her jeans to reveal an equally hairless mound. “You’re going to look good tied to a chair, but I am thinking as tall as you are that shackles and a St. Andrew’s Cross might suit you better.”

I tried to imagine myself fastened spread-eagled to a cross, all my wares on full display. “That won’t leave much to the imagination, will it?” I noted.

“You’re not going to get shy on me now, are you?” Brooke asked, annoyed.

“No, not at all. In fact, I’m getting a bit wet thinking about it.” I blushed.

“Good! If the audience can smell your arousal, you’ll really have their attention.”

“Let’s just say, when you start cutting, it may get a bit messy down there.” I glanced between my legs and smiled.

“How are you with me touching you there?” She asked, carefully.

“During the show, I hope you do.” I sighed, wantonly.

“What about after the show?” Brooke pressed, aggressively.

“To be honest, Brooke, I’ve never been with a man.” The few relationships I had had over the years had all been with other women.

“So much the better, Elise.” Brooke looked down at her watch. “It’s places in five minutes, so we should head over to the room.”

I followed Brooke, out of the backscene, and into the large central room that was getting so familiar. I looked to the small room where we would be playing out my scene. “Are they going to fit that in there?” I asked, noticing the large cross suspended some ten feet above the floor.

“Surprise! Our scene will be taking place out here, Elise. I like a big room.” Brooke chuckled. “We’ll wait in the Trich room until the crowd is in the preceding exhibit, and then I’ll fasten you in.”

I saw a very excited-looking Para slide across the room in our direction and I figured she was going to wish us luck or break a leg, or whatever.

“Elise. You look wonderful by the way. A regular Lady Godiva.” Para pulled Brooke aside and whispered something in her ear, which brought a smile to her face. “Elise, darling. How would you feel about being put into your cross now?” She asked.

“Won’t that spoil the surprise?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And so, there I was, completely naked, shackled to a St. Andrews Cross and suspended some fifteen feet above the floor. Footplates had been added for comfort, considering the amount of time I would be suspended there. The only thing I worried about was dripping on some unsuspecting patron who wandered beneath me.

There was so much going on in the room, that it took some time for people to realize there was a naked blonde hanging from the ceiling. Eventually, everyone caught on, and I soon became the center of attention. This, of course, caused me to become very aroused. Just like clockwork, my fragrant juices began to drip from my open sex.

To my surprise, people weren’t put off by it at all. In fact, it became a bit of a game amongst the men to try and catch the precipitous drops on their tongues. Only a few succeeded before the show began.

Once the group had been escorted into the first room, I was lowered to the floor, the cross left at that height for the grand finale. Brooke led me to the Trich room and went over exactly what she was going to do. The only difference was the ending, which, if done correctly, would surely be a showstopper.

Brooke, upon hearing the display in the next room revving up, led me out to the cross and fastened me in place. “Ready?” She whispered, tugging on my hair before swiping a mischievous finger through my sex.

“God, yes.” I gasped.

“Good, because here they come.”

“Here, we come to the finale of our tour. You may have seen this lovely girl earlier in the evening, suspended high above your heads. Who am I kidding, of course you saw her.” Para chortled. “This is Trichophilia.” Para introduced Brooke with a flourish and disappeared into the shadows.

A few gasps rose from a few of the women in the audience, perhaps knowing what was ahead. Brooke went into her act. She was very animated as she played with my hair, which dangled down my front as well as back through the opening in the cross. Several times, she toyed with my shaven sex, paying special attention to my bald mound, including it in the act.

Finally, with a change in the music, which had gone from almost primitive, to a sinister ambiance that spoke of what was about to occur, Brooke made the first cut. I heard several gasps from the crowd that had gathered as close as they were allowed. As the long strands were savagely cut from my head, I could feel my juices flowing down the inside of my thighs. The more Brooke cut, the more aroused I became, until I could no longer stifle my moans of pleasure.

I could feel my head growing lighter and lighter, and as I looked up I could see every eye was riveted to my apparent plight. One girl, and I knew there would be one, had the same telltale look of ecstasy that I had been feeling so long ago, when I stood in her place. Our eyes locked, and I heard her gasp as a well-timed lock of hair floated to the floor between us.

When the music reverted to the background ambient tones, I knew that Brooke had finished. She dropped the scissors on the floor, for effect, running her hands through my massacred hair. Para returned, but I knew the show wasn’t over just yet.

“Will the female members of the group step forward please,” Para instructed. “Don’t worry ladies, your hair is quite safe.”

I smiled as the look of horror ran away from their faces, realizing that they would not be expected to participate, at least in that way. Para removed a small set of hair clippers from her pocket and handed them to the girl whom I had indicated with my eyes.

“We cannot leave her like this, now can we ladies?” Para smiled, slyly.

The girl stepped forward and switched on the clippers. I could feel her press against me before she sighed, audibly. “God, I want to be you.”

I smiled and lowed my head for her attention. She was tentative at first, pressing the humming machine to my forehead before pushing them back, over the top. We both moaned in pleasure. Before she handed the clippers to the next volunteer, I beckoned her to come close. “I was you. You can be me.” I placed a kiss on her cheek before she retreated, fading into the darkness of the room.

One by one, the women took turns shaving my head. Some took liberties that others might take offense to, but not me, not that night. I welcomed their touches, their caresses, as they rid me of the last of my hair.

The men, feeling somewhat dejected, but not unsatisfied with the show, applauded as the last strip of ragged stubble was removed. As the crowd moved away from the cross, I was released, at last free to raise my fingers to my naked scalp. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and Brooke could see the look that had swept over me.

“You need attention before the social, dear God.” She dragged me into the back, slipping into a small room and closing the door. I fell back onto some boxes and opened my legs for her as she dove between them. I wished I had lasted longer, but my orgasm came fast and furious, Brooke’s tongue lashing my clitoris mercilessly. My fingers gripped her stubbled head as she pleasured me, and knew that my hair was far shorter than hers.

I wanted to reciprocate, but she insisted we needed to get back. “God, you are unbelievably hot without hair.” She pulled her mobile from her pocket and snapped a photo, turning it so I could see. The striking woman that stared into the camera lens couldn’t possibly be me. Her bright blue eyes were stark against the pale skin, which extended forever over the top of her head. Her ears were perfect, and her hairless head flawless. That was me!

“Wow.” Was all I managed, as Brooke pulled me back to the front to join the social. I was so used to being naked, that even though almost everyone else had donned some sort of covering, I preferred to stay that way. It did not go unnoticed.

My glass of wine was barely touched, as person after person was eager to talk to me. Most wanted to know how I felt, and assure me that I was stunning bald. Para could see that I was beginning to tire, escorting the last of the audience to the exit. When, at last, we had the place to ourselves, a general cheer rose from all, and congrats all around for another Circus act complete.

“So, Elise, what do you have planned now?” Para asked. “Will you head back to your life, and try and put this all behind you?”

“No, that is not the plan at all,” I assured her.

“What of your regular job?” Para probed.

“I left them a note,” Elise explained, an amused smile on her face.

“What on earth did you say?” Para ran a hand over Elise’s head, eliciting a shiver from her that coursed down her naked body.

“I told them that I’d run away, and joined the Circus.”

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