The Damnation of a Good Girl

The bell rang, signifying the start of class. The majority of the students attending homeroom came rushing in at the last minute. Meanwhile, Catherine was already at her desk, like the perfect straight A student she was. Despite being only 18 years of age, many people assumed she was older due to her mature attitude.

Catherine flicked her tightly braided butt-length blonde hair over her delicate shoulder. With the exception of her breasts and butt, which were surprisingly voluptuous, the rest of her could easily be described as tiny and delicate.

Honestly, if she didn’t dress so conservatively, then most people would probably agree that Catherine Crowley was hot… but she was a good, Christian girl that would never indulge in such sin.

Today, they were going to get their midterm report cards. Catherine could barely suppress a giddy smile as her bright green eyes gleamed with excitement.

Their homeroom/English teacher, Mr. Todd, stood up from behind his desk at the front of the classroom. With reports in hand, Mr. Todd paced between desks, handing each and every student their report card.

“These reports are not your final grade but a reflection of your ongoing progress,” announced Mr. Todd in a loud, firm voice. “And while some of you are progressing nicely, others really need to pick up the pace if you want to graduate.”

Upon reaching Catherine’s desk, Mr. Todd paused. He was glaring down at her with a truly sinister look in his eyes.

That look had always frightened Catherine – ever since she was a little girl. Her father and Mr. Todd were close friends. They had grown up together, they had served in the military together, and for the past 14 years, they had lived down the street from each other. However, this was his first time teaching her.

Without saying anything, Mr. Todd slammed the folded piece of paper face down. This caused Catherine to jump in fright. Mr. Todd then walked on as if nothing had happened.

Catherine cautiously waited until Mr. Todd was at the front of the room before flipping open her report card.

Advanced English: 69%

Calculus: 60%

History: 64%

Advanced Biology: 65%

Advance Science: 55%

Art: 57%

Catherine blinked in confusion.

How could this happen?! wondered Catherine, feeling her cheeks heat up in both embarrassment and indignation. I’ve always been a straight A, honour student. I have won multiple competitions in poetry, science, and art. Less than a month ago, I won a pie by reciting over 2,000 digits of pi – that was a world record, and I didn’t even get a single damn slice of that pie.

Her eyes started to well up, but Catherine quickly pushed her tears aside. In her household, crying was a sign of weakness and thus never tolerated.

With her head held high and a blank, unreadable look on her face, Catherine shoved the report card into her bag. For the rest of class, she took careful notes with determination to do better.

I have to do better. It’s obvious that I’ve been a failure to everyone – my father, my mother, this school, and God, thought Catherine in pure shame and self-hatred. After school, I’ll talk with Principal Aberra. We can discuss what I can do to improve.

When the bell rang, signifying the end of first period, everyone rushed out of the classroom. Near the back of the pack, Catherine was taken by surprise as Mr. Todd grabbed her arm. His grip was tight enough to create bruises.

Mr. Todd was a burly man – equal parts fat and muscle. His breath reeked of cheap cigarettes and alcohol.

“I’ll be speaking with your parents tonight,” said Mr. Todd, his tone threatening. “Filthy slut.”

Catherine didn’t even bat an eye at the insult. She was used to such words from Mr. Todd. And her mother and father had always told her to never talk back to an authority figure.

Suddenly, a fellow student, whose name was Bathin, interrupted them.

“If you got nothing nice to say, Harold, then you should shut your mouth,” insisted Bathin as he shoved Mr. Todd’s hand away from Catherine’s body.

“When addressing me, you will either refer to me as Mr. Todd or sir,” demanded Mr. Todd, agitated. “It’s a sign of respect.”

“Respect needs to be earned,” refuted Bathin. When he turned to look over towards Catherine, his gaze immediately softened. “We should hurry over to biology, Cat. Instead of wasting our time here.”

Bathin smiled at her. Catherine immediately smiled back. This boy’s kindness, intellect, and bravery always had a way of warming her heart.

Even still, despite that warmth, Catherine could feel Mr. Todd’s cold gaze on her back.

~~ 5 Hours Later ~~

School had ended less than 10 minutes ago. And now Catherine was sitting in one of the chairs outside the principal’s office, waiting for him to finish up a discussion he was having with administration.

It wasn’t long before several people exited Principal Aberra’s office, and Aberra, himself, poked his head out and looked her way.

“Ah, Catherine. Good to see you,” greeted Principal Aberra with a smile. “You wished to see me?”

“Yes, Principal Aberra, sir,” answered Catherine, respectfully and concisely – just like her father and mother taught her.

“Well, come in,” said Principal Aberra, gesturing her towards his office.

“Thank you, sir,” replied Catherine politely as she grabbed her backpack and entered Aberra’s office.

“What’s the reason for your visit?” asked the kindly principal.

“I wish to discuss my grades, sir,” replied Catherine, getting straight to the point; in as few words as possible. “How can I best improve them?”

Principal Aberra furrowed his brows in serious thought, “I can’t possibly see how.”

“You can’t, sir?” questioned Catherine in desperation.

“Just keep doing your best,” replied Principal Aberra, with a kind smile. “You’re a bright young woman.”

Catherine’s face heated up in embarrassment. She wasn’t really used to receiving compliments.

“Thank you, sir,” replied Catherine with a small, awkward smile.

~~ 40 Minutes Later ~~

Arriving home, Catherine quickly took off her shoes and immediately went into the kitchen to check on dinner. She had put together a Tuscan chicken recipe in a crockpot earlier this morning.

Tasting it, Catherine deemed it acceptable to serve. She carefully set out the dining set; making sure each plate was perfectly centred in front of each chair and that every utensil was evenly spaced for each placement.

With that out of the way, Catherine went outside to feed Max, their dog. She spent a few minutes extra just petting his soft fur. It was unfortunate, but she was the only one that ever gave the poor boy any attention.

When she eventually headed back inside, Catherine hurriedly went about dusting, sweeping, and mopping every room in the house before her parents got home. This is something she did every day, so there was very little mess to clean up… after all, her mother loved doing the white glove test. And even the smallest speck of dust would earn her the belt plus a sternly worded reprimand.

Hearing the front door slam closed, Catherine quickly put away the cleaning supplies and hurried downstairs.

Upon reaching the bottom step, Catherine realised Mr. Todd had already intercepted her parents before she could.

Catherine forced a smile even as her heart raced wildly in her chest.

“Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma’am,” greeted Catherine, standing at attention like every day – her parents insisted on being addressed in such a way as a sign of respect. Her frightened gaze briefly flickered over towards Mr. Todd. “I see that you have company, sir. Is he staying for dinner, sir?”

Catherine’s father, John Crowley, scowled down at his daughter.

“Yes, Harry is staying for dinner. But you don’t need to set out another plate,” spat Mr. Crowley, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Do you know why?”

“Because I won’t be eating tonight, sir,” guessed Catherine, already used to such punishments.

“And why’s that?” asked Catherine’s mother, Mildred.

“Because I have lost the privilege, ma’am,” answered Catherine, obediently.

“Exactly,” replied Mrs. Crowley, coldly. “Now go serve us and our guest the evening meal.”

Dutifully, Catherine went back into the kitchen and put the Tuscan chicken into a serving dish. She then brought it out to the dining room where everyone was seated.

“Is that all?” asked Mr. Todd with a sneer. “What even is this?”

“Tuscan Chicken, sir,” replied Catherine, bowing her head as she stood off to the side. “Just as Mr. and Mrs. Crowley requested.”

Mr. Todd shook his head in disappointment.

“Not my favourite,” huffed Mr. Todd. He turned his attention to Mr. Crowley. “Your daughter really needs to learn how to be more accommodating. She lacks thoughtfulness.”

“The girl lacks discipline!” criticised Mr. Crowley, smacking his hand against the table. “That’s what she lacks.”

Catherine hung her head in shame. Without even looking up, she could tell that Mr. Todd was staring her down.

“If she was my daughter, she’d get a firm spanking,” said Mr. Todd, smugly.

“She most certainly will – after supper,” replied Mr. Crowley, glancing over at his daughter with barely concealed contempt. “I can scarcely believe that girl is failing all her subjects.”

“If I may be so bold, perhaps you have been too soft in your administration of such punishments,” suggested Mr. Todd. “After all, this disobedient creature is still your daughter.”

“What would you recommend?” asked Mrs. Crowley, curious.

“Every punishment should have an element of humiliation,” explained Mr. Todd, enthusiastically. “Allow me to handle her spanking while you and your wife discuss a more creative punishment – something that will break her pride.”

Catherine snapped her head to look at her parent imploringly. She didn’t want to be left alone with Mr. Todd.

“That is an excellent idea,” agreed Mr. Crowley. Getting up from the table, he shoved one of his pudgy fingers in front of Catherine’s frightened face. “You better behave yourself for Mr. Todd.”

“Yes, sir,” muttered Catherine, defeatedly.

Both of Catherine’s parents left the room, leaving her alone with Mr. Todd.

“Strip,” demanded Mr. Todd, licking his lips.

“What?” asked Catherine, uncertain that she had heard him correctly.

A look of pure rage crossed Mr. Todd’s face.

“IS THAT BACKTALK!?”

“No, sir,” replied Catherine, skittishly. Even still, she hesitated to remove her clothing.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” said Mr. Todd, in a threatening manner.

Catherine immediately shook her head as she stripped down to her bra and panties – exposing her slender but strong arms and legs as well as her concave stomach. Fingering the hooks on her bra, she hesitated once again.

“All the way, sir?” asked Catherine, timidly.

“To your bare ass,” replied Mr. Todd, crassly.

Slowly, Catherine removed her bra – freeing her round, firm breasts. Dropping her bra to the floor, Catherine’s hands moved to the waistband of her panties. Hooking her thumbs under the thin material, she quickly shoved them all the way down.

Fully naked now, Catherine remained completely still as Mr. Todd stared at her with lustful eyes. As soon as he stood up from the table, she saw that his dick was straining against his trousers.

Mr. Todd reached his sweaty hands out to cup Catherine’s perky breasts. Catherine felt sick to her stomach as his hands travelled lower until he was petting her pubic hair.

“You know, I’ve always been fond of a full, thick bush on a woman,” commented Mr. Todd, as he rutted his clothed cock against her hip. “Unfortunately, I can tell you’re a natural blonde.”

Catherine forced herself not to react as Mr. Todd jizzed in his jeans.

“Bend yourself over the table,” demanded Mr. Todd irritably as he removed his belt.

Like a good girl, Catherine obediently did as she was told. With bent elbows, she laid her forearms flat against the table and arched her back, bracing herself for the inevitable.

“Now remember to count,” informed Mr. Todd, gruffly. “Otherwise, we start over at one.”

With a loud crack, leather met skin. The sting was immediate. But Catherine knew better than to cry.

“One,” stated Catherine, stoically.

The belt smacked against the soft flesh of her ass again.

“Two.”

This went on for about 15 or so minutes. Catherine’s ass had turned a glowing red – both cheeks had swollen to twice their usual size with many shallow cuts in the soft tissue. She could feel blood running down her pale, quivering legs.

“Sixty-nine,” continued Catherine, feeling a little woozy. “Seventy.”

At some point, Catherine’s parents had re-entered the dining room. Quietly, they watched the spectacle go on.

“Eighty-seven, eighty-eight…” counted Catherine, following each unrelenting strike.

“I think she’s had enough,” interrupted Mrs. Crowley, much to Catherine’s relief.

“We’re ready to administer her second punishment,” informed Mr. Crowley as he escorted Mr. Todd to the door. “Thanks for the help. We should do this again sometime.”

Moments after hearing the front close, Catherine watched her father stomp back into the dining room. He looked over at her mother.

“Mildred, go fetch a bowl and a pair of scissors.”

Mr. Crowley’s eyes then landed on his daughter.

“And you,” growled Mr. Crowley as he jabbed a meaty finger into his daughter’s chest. “Follow me to the bathroom.”

Catherine tried to gather her clothes, but her father slapped them out of her hands.

“Don’t bother with your clothes,” grumbled Mr. Crowley.

Immediately, Catherine followed her father, who led her to the bathroom.

The air in the bathroom felt colder than the rest of the house. The small window was open – allowing in the cool night air. Catherine forced herself to suppress a shiver as a light breeze fluttered over her skin.

Stepping into the bathroom, Catherine spotted a single tall, metal stool positioned directly in front of the mirror.

“Sit,” commanded Mr. Crowley, as he shoved his daughter onto the metal stool.

Tears welled up in Catherine’s eyes as her tender bottom met the solid metal seat of the stool.

Catherine’s father sneered down at her; his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Are you seriously crying right now?”

“No, sir,” replied Catherine, wiping away her tears.

“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME, MAGGOT!” screamed Mr. Crowley as he slapped Catherine across the face. Catherine recognised the old nickname – it was what her father used to call new recruits when he was back in the army. “How dare you act as if you didn’t bring all this on yourself?”

While Catherine was being admonished, Mrs. Crowley entered the bathroom with a metal mixing bowl and a pair of sharp kitchen scissors. Catherine turned to look at her.

“Keep your head straight,” snapped Mr. Crowley.

Catherine quickly straightened her posture and turned to face the mirror. As she did so, her mother’s gaze focused in on her reddened cheek.

“What did you do to earn that?” asked Mrs. Crowley, gripping her daughter’s chin.

Before Catherine had a chance to answer, her father interrupted.

“She lied to me.”

As soon as Mr. Crowley said that, Mrs. Crowley’s immediate reaction was to slap her daughter’s other cheek.

“You are obviously in dire need of an attitude adjustment, little lady,” grumbled Mrs. Crowley, shaking her head in disappointment. “You need to learn that actions have consequences.”

I’m so sorry, mommy, thought Catherine, contritely.

Face set in a deep frown, Mrs. Crowley yanked her fingers through Catherine’s hair – undoing her braid without even a hint of gentleness.

“Maybe we should start her off with a buzzcut,” suggested Mr. Crowley, running a hand through his thinning flat-top hairstyle. “A very simple, no-nonsense induction cut. We can use the dog clippers I keep under the sink.”

Catherine was surprised her father actually knew that’s where she kept them, since she was the only one that trimmed the hair around the pads of Max’s feet.

“If she doesn’t get her grades up, then that’s what she’ll be getting next,” replied Mrs. Crowley. “I can’t believe we let her grow it so long in the first place – it is so filthy and unclean.”

Picking up a hairbrush, Catherine’s mother roughly pulled almost half of her daughter’s hair forwards. This completely obscured Catherine’s view of herself in the mirror.

Mrs. Crowley then placed a metal bowl on Catherine’s head. The lip of the bowl grazed her nose and the halfway point of her ear.

Mr. Crowley then took the huge kitchen scissors from Mrs. Crowley’s hand. And without hesitation, he gripped a chunk of hair that rested against Catherine’s left cheekbone and placed the scissors at the edge of the bowl.

Shnick. Shnick.

In only two snips, the entire handful of hair was separated from the rest. Mr. Crowley purposely dropped the severed strands onto Catherine’s naked lap.

Catherine forced herself not to react. She had to take her punishment – like a good girl.

Mother and father are only doing what’s best for me, thought Catherine, suppressing a flinch when the scissors nicked her ear. Without discipline, there is only chaos.

Blood dripped down from Catherine’s ear.

“Ugh, you’re bleeding all over my clean tiles,” complained Mrs. Crowley.

“I’ll make sure to clean them, ma’am,” replied Catherine, automatically.

“Did we give you permission to speak?” asked Mr. Crowley, as he purposely caught Catherine’s other ear in-between the blades of the scissors. “And damn right you will be cleaning this mess up, maggot,” he grunted in annoyance as a speck of blood got on his skin. “Buzzing this would’ve been so much easier.”

And less painful, thought Catherine, less than kindly, as both her ears and her bottom bled profusely.

Shnick. Shnick Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. 

The sound of quick, aggressive snips filled the air as the pile of hair in Catherine’s lap grew larger and larger.

Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. 

With one final snip, the scissors finished their journey all the way around the rim of the bowl.

As Mrs. Crowley took the metal bowl off her daughter’s head, Mr. Crowley stared at the back of her head with a frown.

“So messy back here,” huffed Mr. Crowley, yanking on the still-long sections at the back of Catherine’s head.

“Just cut all the hair below the top of her ears off at the root,” insisted Mrs. Crowley. When her husband gave her a confused look, she held out her hand with an exasperated sigh. “Give me the scissors.”

As the scissors once again passed hands, Catherine took a moment to observe her reflection. Her once long, blonde hair now hung level with the tip of her small, upturned nose.

Unwilling to raise her hands without permission, Catherine’s gaze was semi-obscured by the thick, clunky bangs that rested in front of her face. The only remnants of her formerly glorious mane was a long tail of hair at the base of her skull – it had remained untouched because the point of growth had rested below the lip of the bowl.

Suddenly, Catherine felt her mother’s hand shoving her head forwards. Catherine’s chin was now firmly pressed against her chest.

With a vice-like grip, Mrs. Crowley held the top portion of Catherine’s hair out of the way. With her other hand she positioned the scissors just below the tips of her daughter’s ears – they were angled in such a way that they were flush against her scalp.

Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. 

It wasn’t long before the back of Catherine’s neck was completely devoid of hair. When Mrs. Crowley was done reducing all the hair below her daughter’s ears to a short, even stubble.

Catherine tried to ignore the cool air brushing over the back of her head and neck. As if twisting the knife further, her mother ran a hand against the barely-there stubble.

“I think the little maggot needs bangs; otherwise, she will be too busy pushing them out of her face instead of focusing on schoolwork,” criticised Mr. Crowley.

“I think you’re right,” replied Mrs. Crowley. She placed the scissors ½ an inch away from the top of Catherine’s hairline.

The blades of the scissors snapped closed.

Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. Shnick. 

Catherine watched as the hair covering her face fell away with each snip of the scissors. Her forehead was soon left completely exposed.

“Looks like we’re done… for now,” said Mrs. Crowley, with a pointed look in Catherine’s direction.

Meanwhile, Catherine was frozen in her seat as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had been cut into a weird bob/bowl cut hybrid – the micro-bangs adding to the ridiculousness of the overall style. Yet, despite having an undeniably ugly haircut, Catherine was still a very attractive girl.

“Stop preening and clean up this mess,” demanded Mr. Crowley.

“Yes, sir,” replied Catherine, as she knelt down. She quietly picked up her severed hair and dumped it in the trash.

~~ 4 Months Later ~~

Catherine had a good feeling about the final report card of her high-school career. Her grades must have improved. She had scored absolutely perfect on every test and assignment. She had won multiple awards in several competitions. And she had even gotten a full-ride scholarship to study biology and biochemistry at the University of Cambridge.

The first bell hadn’t even rung yet, but Catherine was already waiting patiently at her desk in homeroom. She was pushing her now shoulder-length hair over her shoulder just as Bathin walked up behind her.

“Looks like we’re both going to the same place,” said Bathin.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Catherine, uncertain about what her classmate was talking about.

“Cambridge,” clarified Bathin, with a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m going there too.”

“Oh, really?” replied Catherine, happy for her friend. “Well, I look forward to studying with you, sir.”

Bathin pulled a sour face.

“Please don’t call me sir,” insisted Bathin. Then in a more teasing tone he continued. “I have a name, you know.”

“Sorry,” apologised Catherine.

Bathin looked at her with a clear expression of sympathy.

“No need to apologise,” replied Bathin with a small smile. “By the way, I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”

Bathin softly grasped both of Catherine’s hands as he knelt down beside her chair.

“If I asked, would you give all of yourself to me?” questioned Bathin. “Body and soul.”

Catherine could barely contain her excitement.

Is Bathin asking me what I think he’s asking me? wondered Catherine, her hopes soaring.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” asked Catherine.

“For someone so smart, you are very naive,” replied Bathin, shaking his head as he chuckled.

“Oh,” sighed Catherine, sadly. “Just so that you know, I really like you… and I would’ve said yes.”

“I know,” replied Bathin, simply.

Having lost track of time, Catherine was briefly startled by the ringing of the school’s bell. Mr. Todd came strolling into the classroom with an air of superiority. His gaze landed on Catherine, and she could feel a malicious glee radiating from those eyes of his.

The classroom was half-empty. Being the last day of school, most students their age had decided to play hooky and go to the beach.

Catherine wouldn’t ever dare do something like that… even though she kind of wanted to. Not that any of that matters. Wants are not needs. And she needed to see her report card.

Catherine watched in anticipation as Mr. Todd wandered between desks handing out reports. He approached Catherine’s desk last. Leaning down, he placed her final report card face down.

“I’ll be seeing you tonight,” whispered Mr. Todd, his lips a short distance from her ear.

Suddenly, Catherine felt Mr. Todd’s nose bury itself in her hair as he deeply breathed in her scent.

“I see that your hair is growing back nicely,” commented Mr. Todd as his hands stroked her soft, blonde hair. “It was a shame that it had been cut so short – especially when you look so much better with it long.”

Catherine wanted Mr. Todd’s hands to stop touching her, but she knew that if she said as much, then she would be in serious trouble.

Mercifully, Mr. Todd finally returned to the front of the classroom to teach his final lesson of the year. Catherine released a sigh of relief.

But that relief was short-lived as she flipped over her report card.

Advanced English: 52%

Calculus: 58%

History: 54%

Advanced Biology: 59%

Advance Science: 51%

Art: 55%

Catherine stared at the piece of paper in confusion.

How can this be? This was worse, thought Catherine in wide-eyed panic. How did my grades get worse?

Waiting until the end of class, Catherine immediately bolted out the door as soon as the bell rang.

Rushing down the hallway, Catherine headed straight for the principal’s office.  Alerting the secretary to her urgent need to see Principal Aberra, Catherine forced herself to remain calm as she sat down in a chair and waited.

After a few minutes passed by in complete silence, Principal Aberra stuck his head out and gestured for Catherine to follow him into his office.

“What brings you here today, Catherine?” asked Principal Aberra in a kindly tone as he went to stand by the open window. “It is such a nice day.”

“I’m sure it is, sir, but right now I need help. I need to raise my grades somehow – they are much too low,” said Catherine as she laid her report card face down on the principal’s desk.

“Low?” questioned Principal Aberra, turning away from the window to look at Catherine with furrowed brows. “However you may feel about your grades, Catherine, I can not possibly raise them any higher than they are. For anyone else, maybe. But yours are as good as you can possibly get.”

“Are you giving up on me, sir?” questioned Catherine with a teary expression. Her life was officially falling apart. She’d likely lose her scholarship, and her parents were definitely going to rip her hide off for this.

Before Principal Aberra had a chance to reply, Catherine ran out of his office.

~~ 10 Hours Later ~~

After wandering aimlessly around the neighbourhood for several hours, Catherine realised that she had to go back home at some point. Reluctantly, she strode over to the front door and slowly opened it. On the other side were her parents and Mr. Todd.

“We warned you,” said Mr. Crowley in a grave tone.

“I know, sir,” replied Catherine, defeatedly. “I’ll go to the bathroom to serve out my punishment.”

“Not yet,” said Mr. Crowley. He glanced over at Mr. Todd. “Harry has agreed to help out with your punishment again. Afterwards, you will be getting a more appropriate haircut and packing up.”

“What do you mean by packing up, sir?” asked Catherine, confused.

“Your father and Harry have pulled some strings and secured for you a position at the nearby military academy,” explained Mrs. Crowley. “Once th-”

“Once there you will learn discipline,” interrupted Mr. Crowley. His words coming across more bluntly than his wife’s. “In exchange for the privilege, you will be expected to provide certain services to the men.”

Something about those words left Catherine feeling unsettled.

“What sort of services, sir?” asked Catherine, nervously biting her lip.

“You’ll be a barracks bunny,” answered Mr. Todd, gleefully. “There you will learn your place.”

What is a barracks bunny? questioned Catherine, baffled by such terminology.

Suddenly, Mr. Crowley grabbed Catherine’s arm and dragged her into the dining room. His wife and Mr. Todd followed a short distance behind.

“Harry has so graciously offered to be your first,” said Mr. Crowley as he shoved Catherine against the side of the table. “You be sure to listen to his instruction.”

Mr. and Mrs. Crowley sat in the chairs at the opposite end of the table. It seems like they were going to be present for the whole punishment this time. Catherine felt a bit safer knowing they would be there to stop Mr. Todd if he got too handsy.

“Strip,” demanded Mr. Todd, a sharp and wicked grin spreading across his grotesque face.

Catherine tried to ignore the fear building inside her as she slowly removed all her clothes.

It wasn’t long before Catherine was standing naked and vulnerable in front of both her parents and her teacher.

Meanwhile, Mr. Todd had removed both his belt and his pants – much to Catherine’s confusion.

“Bend over the table,” instructed Mr. Todd.

Catherine looked towards her parents for confirmation that this was getting a bit weird. The faces were set in a completely neutral expression.

Taking a deep calming breath, Catherine pressed her hands down on the table and leaned over.

“Spread your legs and raise your bottom more,” directed Mr. Todd as he placed his hand between her legs.

“Sir?” questioned Catherine, not liking where this was going.

“DID I ASK YOU TO SPEAK?” scolded Mr. Todd as he slapped her pussy.

Catherine could feel tears briefly welling up in her eyes. That slap had really hurt – om both a mental and physical level. Regardless, she forced down the urge to cry.

I’m a good girl, insisted Catherine, silently. I always do what I am told… no matter how much it hurts.

Spreading her legs and arching her spine, Catherine waited for the first strike of Mr. Todd’s belt. But it didn’t come. Instead she felt something fleshy and moist breaching the entrance to her vagina in one hard thrust.

Catherine nearly blacked out from the pain as Mr. Todd’s dick repeatedly pushed in and out of her vagina. The lack of preparation combined with the force of his thrusts caused her to start bleeding.

“No!” begged Catherine. She didn’t want this – not from Mr. Todd. “Stop!”

“SHUT UP!” shouted Mr. Todd, between grunts. He suddenly grabbed a handful of Catherine’s hair and used it to smash her head against the table.

Catherine struggled against Mr. Todd’s hold. As she kicked and screamed, her father looked at her in disappointment.

“Quit struggling, maggot,” said Mr. Crowley, leaning back in his chair. “This is for your own good.”

Reminescing, Mr. Crowley smiled, “Back in our army days, Harry and I used to enjoy the company of barracks bunnies.”

While her father continued to talk, Catherine continued to struggle. She eventually landed a good kick that sent Mr. Todd stumbling backwards.

Catherine tried to run, but Mr. Todd had recovered quickly and managed to grab ahold of her hair. He then tackled her to the floor and proceeded to use her hair as a handle in order to bang her head repeatedly against the ground until she became docile.

“Your hair is so soft,” moaned Mr. Todd, lustfully as he pushed inside her once again. “I am so glad I get to fuck you before you become an ugly, bald ass bitch.”

Catherine’s vision had become increasingly splotchy as blood poured down the side of her head. The muffled sounds of her father laughing caught her attention.

“Not bald, buzzed,” corrected Mr. Crowley. Distantly, the ringing of a phone could be heard. “Mildred, go get the phone.”

Catherine heard the click of her mother’s heels against the hardwood floor as she left the room. Meanwhile, Catherine tried to endure, but as more blood continued to pour out, the weaker she felt. Distantly, she could hear her mother calling for father.

“Husband, it’s our daughter’s principal on the phone,” shouted Mrs. Crowley.

“Coming,” replied Mr. Crowley, as he too left the dining room.

I’m going to die here, realised Catherine, her vision fading fast. And nobody cares.

Looking up, Catherine saw something strange. Her best friend, Bathin, was here – crouching down in front of her as he held her hand.

“Bathin?” said Catherine, confused.

Mr. Todd looked over to where Catherine was looking, his eyes passing over Bathin’s form, “Crazy bitch.”

Why doesn’t Mr. Todd see him? wondered Catherine. Is Bathin nothing more than a hallucination?

“Astral projection,” explained Bathin. “Only you can see me.”

Bathin’s fingers pressed against the pulse point in her wrist. A concerned expression wrinkled his brow.

“Remember? I asked you if you would offer yourself to me,” said Bathin. Catherine nodded weakly in confirmation. “Draw my seal with your blood, and I will be yours to command.”

His seal? thought Catherine, panicked. Bathin is that Bathin. One of the great dukes of Hell.

“You’re a demon,” realised Catherine, feeling betrayed.

“And you’re dying,” argued Bathin, bluntly. Then in a more gentle tone. “Listen to me, Cat. Just do all that I ask, and I will be your slave. I’m offering you a life of freedom, luxury… youth and beauty eternal.”

“In exchange for what?” asked Catherine.

What am I doing? I shouldn’t even consider accepting a deal from a demon, thought Catherine in self-admonishment. I’m a good girl.

“Collecting men that had been tempted into committing sin,” explained Bathin. “A bounty hunter, you could say. I promise it won’t interfere in your day-to-day life.”

“I don’t know,” replied Catherine, conflicted. She could feel herself growing weaker.

Finally, Mr. Todd’s relentless rutting stopped as he came to a shuddering climax. Before he was finished, he pulled out so that he could jizz all over Catherine’s hair and backside.

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Crowley came back into the dining room.

“Harry! Principal Aberra was just on the line,” said Mr. Crowley, sounding quite cross. “He said that our daughter scored a perfect 100 for the whole year. And that the report she left on his desk had been falsified.”

Mr. Todd gave me a false report, realised Catherine. He planned this… he wanted this.

“I’m sorry, man,” apologised Mr. Todd, speaking solely to Mr. Crowley. “I just wanted to have her so badly.”

“Do you still want her?” asked Mr. Crowley, glancing down at his daughter in disgust.

“Hell no,” laughed Mr. Todd. “She’s nothing more than a dirty whore now.”

“I guess you’re right,” agreed Mr. Crowley with a shrug. “Oh well. After today she’ll be the academy’s problem.”

Catherine looked up at her friend, Bathin, with pleading eyes as she nodded her consent.

“I’ll guide your hand,” said Bathin, as he directed her blood-coated fingers into drawing the Bathin seal. “Harold Todd is your first soul to collect.”

Once completed, Catherine immediately felt better. Her wounds had instantly healed – leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin. There were also sensations of a warm, surging power lying within.

Standing up, Catherine levelled a glare at Mr. Todd.

Mr. Crowley noticed this.

“Quit your gawking, and go to the bathroom, maggot,” demanded Mr. Crowley. “I’ll be there to sort you out shortly.”

“No,” said Catherine. She could feel a heat building beneath her fingertips.

“No?” sputtered Mr. Crowley.

Catherine simply smiled as she raised her hand. Suddenly, Mr. Todd was completely engulfed in fire. The flames burning so hot that it wasn’t long before he was nothing but ashes.

“What the fuck did you do?” cursed Mr. Crowley.

“I sent him away,” said Catherine, with faux sweetness. “To where he belongs.”

“Begone, she-devil!” commanded Mrs. Crowley, holding up the crucifix on her necklace.

That only works for true believers… something that you, my bloodkin, are not, realised Catherine as bitter tears ran down her face. I have lost my innocence due to these people. And now, they want to call upon divine help.

The crucifix melted in Mrs. Crowley’s hands.

“My schooling starts in the fall,” explained Catherine. “Until then I will be staying here. I won’t bother you, and in return, you won’t bother me. Otherwise, there are people downstairs that would really like to see you.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Crowley remained silent.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” said Catherine as she headed to the bathroom alone.

I need a shower, thought Catherine as she stumbled towards the mirror.

Looking at her reflection, Catherine saw how her own blood had dried and cracked against her pale skin. But that’s not what bothered her. It was her hair. How Mr. Todd had grabbed it. Cummed in it. Compliment it.

“This all has to go,” decided Catherine, as she ran a shaky hand through her bloodstained, cum-encrusted hair.

Catherine bent down and retrieved the dog clippers from under the sink. Not bothering with a guard, she turned them on.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

The tiny machine vibrated in her hand. Catherine stared at her reflection for a moment longer before raising the clippers to the centre of her forehead. Without further hesitation, she dragged the clippers backwards into her hairline.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

The guardless clippers chewed a path down the middle of her head, leaving behind a 1 mm stubble. Strands of long, blonde hair tumbled to the floor.

Catherine pulled the clippers away. There was no turning back now.

Positioning the clippers at the front of her hairline once again, Catherine carved out a second path next to the first. Her head was already beginning to feel so light – lighter than her first haircut.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Carving out path after path, Catherine reduced all the hair on her head to a 1 mm pelt. Her feet were engulfed entirely in thick sheets of severed hair.

Completely shorn, Catherine looked down at the thatch of hair covering her vulva.

Catherine recalled Mr. Todd stating his preference for thick bushes.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Buzzing off her pubic hair as well, Catherine finally turned off the clippers and put them away. She then picked the severed hair up off the floor and discarded it into the waste bin.

Running a hand over her stubbly head, Catherine realised it wasn’t enough.

Grabbing a safety razor and the canister of shaving cream, Catherine headed towards the shower and placed them inside. Turning the tap onto hot, she stood under the spray of warm water. She quickly scrubbed clean every speck of dirt, blood, and cum.

Picking up the shaving cream, Catherine squirted a small amount into the palm of her hand and rubbed it onto her pubic area. With the safety razor, she carefully shaved the entire area until she was completely smooth. It felt surprisingly nice. Dropping the razor, Catherine took her time exploring herself, touching herself, pleasuring herself. Fingering her clit, it wasn’t long before she experienced her first-ever orgasm.

Leaning against the wall of the shower, Catherine grabbed the shaving cream and squirted it directly onto the top of her stubbly head. After spreading the cream all around her scalp, Catherine picked the safety razor back up.

Sccrrk. Sccrrk. Sccrrk. Sccrrk. Sccrrk. 

The razor scraped against Catherine’s scalp. Slowly, she peeled away any remaining hair left on her head. The spray of the water hitting against her bare scalp felt both strange and invigorating.

After several minutes of running her hands over her hairless head, Catherine realised that she would eventually have to face her reflection. Turning off the water, Catherine exited the shower.  She wrapped a towel around her wet body before heading upstairs to her bedroom.

Sitting down at her writing desk, Catherine took her makeup bin and mirror out of the drawer. Looking at her baldheaded reflection, Catherine figured that she was still pretty enough. Her head was nicely shaped with small, shell-like ears. And without all that hair surrounding her face, Catherine’s big, green eyes and lush, pink lips were much more noticeable.

But something is missing, thought Catherine as she fetched her makeup bin. With such a bold ‘hair’style, I need to do a bolder makeup style.

Picking up a makeup brush, Catherine used a dark eyeshadow to create a dramatic smokey eye. She then painted her lips a deep, dark red.

As she applied the mascara to her lashes, Catherine’s gaze caught Bathin’s reflection in the mirror. She slowly put the mascara brush down.

“Are you disappointed?” asked Catherine, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Bathin smiled at her as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Hair or no hair, you are still very beautiful,” said Bathin, fondly. “But…”

“You don’t love me,” guessed Catherine. She could accept that… but that wasn’t the only thing bothering her. “I’m damned to eternity in hell, aren’t I?”

Bathin gave Catherine a sympathetic look.

“Not necessarily,” assured Bathin. “Just keep collecting the souls of the damned every so often and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know if I can,” muttered Catherine, conflictedly. “I don’t like hurting people.”

“You’re too good for your own good,” huffed Bathin in exasperated fondness. “Even if you forget your end of the deal, I’ll try to look out for you.”

“Thank you,” replied Catherine.

Bathin reached forward and hugged Catherine tightly.

“Before you go, can you do me a favour?” asked Catherine, timidly. When Bathin nodded, she continued. “I don’t want Mr. Todd’s touch to be the only experience I have with a man… and you are the only person I trust. So could you make love to me?”

“OK,” agreed Bathin, pressing a kiss to the top of Catherine’s head.

Then with a smirk, Bathin took away Catherine’s towel. His large hands cupped her ample breasts before running down her firm, narrow waist to rest at her hips. His lips briefly brush against her own.

Bathin then stepped back so that he could remove his own clothes. While he was preoccupied with taking off his pants, Catherine assumed the position and bent herself over the bedframe – pushing her ass up into the air just as she had been instructed to by-

Panic coursed through her veins at the mere thought of Mr. Todd.  Bathin looked at her in concern.

“It’ll be more comfortable if you lie down on the mattress instead,” suggested Bathin, gently guiding her to lie down on the bed with her knees bent and legs open.

Biting her lip, Catherine allowed Bathin to position her on the bed. As her spine sank into the soft mattress, Catherine quickly realised how much more comfortable she was. Bathin gazed down at her nude body with a fond, appreciative expression.

“You’re so beautiful,” commented Bathin as he crawled between Catherine’s legs.

Suddenly, Catherine could feel Bathin’s mouth on her freshly shaved pussy. His tongue lapped at her clit. The sensation was pure ecstasy. The sound of her moans were loud and unashamed; Catherine didn’t care if her parents heard her or not.

Lifting his face away from her hairless vulva, Bathin replaced his tongue with his fingers, gradually stretching her open. It took a few minutes before he deemed Catherine properly prepared to take his cock. She could feel her excitement mounting as the head of his penis pressed against the entrance of her vagina. Slowly, he eased all of himself in.

Leaning down, Bathin placed a gentle kiss at the top of Catherine’s hairless head. Then gripping his hands under her ass cheeks, he suddenly flipped them over so that Catherine was now on top of him, straddling his hips.

“You set the pace,” insisted Bathin in gentle encouragement.

Without hesitation, Catherine bounced herself up and down on Bathin’s thick, hard cock. She was having so much. It wasn’t long before she felt him cumming inside her.

Exhausted, Catherine laid down beside Bathin and closed her eyes. She could feel the soft touch of his calloused fingers stroking her bare scalp.

Catherine purred in contentment. For the first time in her life, she felt cared for… even if they were only friends.

Maybe the damnation of a good girl isn’t such a bad thing, thought Catherine as she leaned into Bathin’s touch.