When I failed out of university, my father and my step-mother refused to allow me to move back with them. No, they said, you will move in with your step-sister and help with her children. My step-sister was a plain woman. Big teeth, big nose, and big gangly limbs. I used to call her “Sarah Plain And Tall”. If you don’t get the reference, Google it. It’s not a flattering nickname. Having no better options, I said yes. So, a week after the university finalized my exit, I drove to her large house in the suburbs. (Despite being still a plain woman, she married well. Her husband, the architect, was fat, ugly, and fucking rich.)
I found my step-sister waiting for me outside. She looks good, I thought, seeing her for the first time since her wedding ten years ago. Her makeup was artfully applied, and her expensive yet tasteful clothing emphasized her tall, fit frame. I felt like a slob in my sweatshirt and leggings. Looking at me coldly, she told me to leave my bags, including my purse, in my car and to follow her. In the past, I’d have mouthed off. The events of the past months, however, damaged my once glowing self-esteem. I just followed her submissively into the house. She brought me to a large bathroom.
“Take off your clothing and throw it in the trash,” she said, coldly.
When I asked why, she slapped me and repeated her order. Stunned, I obeyed, dumping everything that I wore in the trash. She then took a make-up wipe and scrubbed every bit of makeup from my face. Once she did that, she sat me down on the toilet to remove the polish from my nails, fingers and toes, and clip them down to stubs.
“My servants must conform to a certain standard of hygiene,” she said, parting my legs and exposing my lush black bush, “and that includes you.”
And, with that, she took a pair of clippers to my bush. As I watched it fall, I started to cry, which made my step-sister laugh.
Taking the clippers to my head full of glossy black shoulder-length curls, she said, “Well, if you hate that, then you’re REALLY going to hate this part.”
I wept as she gave me a grade-zero buzzcut. Despite my tears, she showed no mercy. Clearly an expert at giving them, she had me looking like a new Army recruit within minutes. After she finished, she rubbed my head, clearly pleased by the results. Looking in the mirror, I could see why she was so pleased with her handiwork. Without any makeup or my pretty curls, I looked…unfortunate. She was definitely the prettier sister now. All my beauty laid on her bathroom floor. She ordered me to toss my hair in the trash, which I did, with tears streaming down my face.
Annoyed by my tears, which she called dramatic, she took me over her knee and gave me a vigorous smacking. Twenty whacks to each butt cheek. Afterwards, my tears quelled by my spanking, she rubbed my sore, red cheeks.
“You’ve always been a worthless girl, spoiled by your own beauty,” she said, her voice low and smoothing, “It will be good for you to spend some time being a lowly servant in my house.”
And, with that, she applied Veet to my head, eyebrows, and pussy. It burned as she let it stick on my skin for twice the recommended time. When she scraped it away, it left behind smooth, red, and shiny skin. Then she bathed me clean and dressed me in baggy, unflattering grey sweats.
Even though my step-sister’s kids are now grown, I still live in her house, just another one of her bald servants.