TheInvisibleMan
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have waited a long time for this, and at last — she is with us again! On stage, the incomparable Frau Rausch!”
The curtain slowly rose.
Ancient scenery emerged from the darkness.
A man in a toga, holding a scroll, stepped forward and began to speak.
“Citizens of Rome! The next lot! The beautiful Pietas!
The slave is useless around the household, illiterate, and according to her master, Aulus Severus, fit for only one thing. But, oh gods, how exceptionally good she is at that one thing!”
At the center of the stage stood a long-haired blonde in a short tunic, a metal collar around her neck.“Severus has grown old and is no longer capable of enjoying his slave.
He wished to grant her freedom, but decided instead that the gods should determine her fate. If she can satisfy her new master within one minute, he will take no payment, and she shall be set free.
But as the price for his generosity, Severus will keep a part of her beauty as a memento and make the challenge harder.
He will keep her hair.”
In the corner of the stage, seated upon a toppled column, an elderly man in a toga gazed sorrowfully at the slave.
Pietas looked at the old man pleadingly.
“You knew the price of your freedom, Pietas.”
Severus gave an order to the slave standing beside him.
“Tonsor, begin.”
The barber approached Pietas and forced her to her knees. For a brief moment, he did not cut. Instead, he gathered the thick blonde length into his hand, lifting it slightly as though weighing what would soon be gone. A murmur moved through the audience. Even now, untouched, her hair still seemed like the most valuable thing she owned. In his hand gleamed a pair of ancient shears, shaped almost like oversized tweezers.
“And while the master takes what is his — bidding is now open! Who will be first? Who dares put Pietas’s talents to the test?
Twenty euros!”
The barber began cutting the slave’s hair, trying to preserve as much length as possible. He worked his way through the thick strands down to the scalp, pressing the flat blades against her skull before squeezing hard.
Krrrkh — the hair came away with a dry, unpleasant sound.
A heavy lock dropped into the bowl.
For the first time, pale skin showed through the blonde thickness above her ear. The damage looked shockingly real now. Pietas drew a trembling breath. Somewhere in the hall, someone applauded softly.
He carefully set each severed lock aside. Tears streamed from Pietas’s eyes.
“One hundred and fifty euros!”
Lock after lock fell away. Uneven patches remained scattered across her head.
“Three hundred euros!”
Half her head had been shorn. The contrast had turned cruel. One side still framed her face in soft blonde waves, familiar and graceful; the other lay exposed in rough, uneven patches, clipped brutally close to the scalp. Pietas kept her eyes lowered, unable to bear the hall watching her transformed by halves.
“Five hundred euros!”
The final lock disappeared from her scalp.
Pietas instinctively lifted a hand toward her head, then stopped halfway.
“One thousand euros! The auction is concluded! We invite the winner to claim his property!”
A man in the audience raised his arms triumphantly and walked toward the stage.
Tonsor carefully gathered all of Pietas’s hair and carried it to his master.
Pietas’s face was wet with tears. With her unevenly shorn head cropped almost to the skin, she no longer looked seductive — only pitiful.
Strands still clung to her tunic and bare shoulders, absurdly delicate against what had been taken from her.
The clothes of the man ascending the stage contrasted sharply with the Roman setting. He stared at the slave with open hunger.
Severus took out a large hourglass and turned it over.
“Begin!”
A spark of mischief flashed in Pietas’s eyes.
She rushed toward the man, unzipped his fly, pulled out his erect cock, and began pleasuring him with her mouth.
The man gripped her nearly bald head and started rocking her roughly in rhythm with his movements.
His body had begun to tremble.
“Time!”
Pietas pulled away.
The man visibly slackened and began fastening his fly.
The slave rose from her knees with the proud bearing of someone victorious.
She walked to the edge of the stage and looked out across the hall.
Silence fell.
The audience watched her, spellbound.
She opened her mouth, full of liquid, and stuck out her tongue. Semen dripped from her tongue and lips, running slowly down her chin and onto her chest.
She was triumphant.
The old man rose wearily to his feet.
“Free.”
The hall erupted into applause.
Curtain.
Ladies and gentlemen…
If tonight’s entertainment left you wanting more, Frau Rausch has many more transformations yet to offer.
