The Story Of Pam

The Story of Pam

By H2O2_4U

Pam had just turned eighteen when she ran away from home, fleeing from the restrictions her strict, religious parents continued to impose on her. Mistress had found her, cold and huddled up in the corner of her entranceway. She had given Pam a place to stay, just until she got on her feet. That was four years ago. The naïve and innocent Pam had quickly fallen under the complete control of the dominant and cunning woman she had come to call ‘Mistress’.

Mistress was the epitome of a woman scorned. Her husband had left her for a young prostitute and she now hated all men. Her hatred of men and her contempt for prostitutes had so twisted her mind that she became obsessed with taking out her revenge on Pam.

At first, Pam was overwhelmed by the way Mistress cared for her. The fact was, Mistress was actually brainwashing her. She eventually became totally dependent on Mistress to make all her decisions. Pam had never been exposed to any form of sex education and it was certainly never discussed in her household. Mistress had no trouble convincing Pam that it was perfectly normal for two women, who really cared about each other, to become intimate.

Occasionally, she would use Pam to repay debts she owed for various little jobs that she had men do around the house. Like her ex-husband, Mistress was convinced that all men thought with their dicks. The brainless workmen were always more than happy to receive their compensation by spending an hour with Pam.

Pam was always more than willing, since Mistress had assured her that fresh warm sperm was good for her complexion. It would work equally well whether she swallowed it or had it injected directly into her body.

By honing Pam’s image to represent the sluts she hated so badly, Mistress was able to justify her constant abuse of poor Pam. Sadly, having nothing to compare it to, Pam had no idea she was being abused. Pam’s image was carefully orchestrated.

Early on, she had convinced Pam that wearing ultra-high heeled shoes would improve the shape of her legs. Pam was badgered into wearing nothing but five-inch heels any time she was not in bed. After four years, her calf muscles had shrunk to the point where it was very uncomfortable for her to go barefoot without walking on her tiptoes. She convinced Pam that panties and bras were a haven for bacteria and germs. She was forbidden to wear either.

Mistress never allowed Pam to wear street clothes in the house. Whenever she came into the house, she would immediately have to strip down to her garter belt and stockings, and of course, her high heeled shoes. Mistress enjoyed watching Pam parade around the house dressed like a hooker.

Mistress always insisted that Pam wear extremely heavy makeup. Mistress said she looked beautiful with her thin, highly arched eyebrows and thick false eyelashes. The Collagen she had injected into her lips, swelled them into a sexy, pouty look. When Mistress didn’t have them heavily coated with bright red lipstick, she enjoyed kissing them while her hands explored Pam’s young innocent body.

Mistress frequently allowed Pam to lick the “vitamin rich” juices from her clitoris and labia. Pam was sure it would improve her eyesight and besides it seemed to make Mistress very happy.

As Pam looked at herself in the mirror, she stared at her breasts. They were large and full, way out of proportion against her small frame. She tried to remember how soft they felt before they were filled with silicone pouches. Pam cupped her hands under her silicone tits, as she was made to call them. Now, they felt hard and artificial. The thick gold rings accented the brown flesh of her sensitive nipples.

She thought to herself that there was nothing about her that Mistress hadn’t changed. Nothing, that is, except her long, dark hair.  Mistress knew that Pam was very proud of her silky mane. She would spend her time brushing and pampering it. Mistress had big plans for Pam’s lovely hair…

It was over a year ago. Pam was getting ready for bed and had just begun to brush her hair, when she heard her bedroom door open. As Mistress approached, she instinctively lowered her eyes. Mistress took the hairbrush from Pam’s hand and walked behind her.

As Mistress began to brush Pam’s healthy mane, Pam began to relax and bask in the attention her beloved Mistress was giving her. She knew Mistress loved her and her interest in Pam’s appearance only fortified that love. Otherwise, why would Mistress have spent so much time and money making sure she looked just right? As Pam became more and more lost in the moment, she was suddenly startled by Mistresses sharp voice in her ear.

“Pam, I have a little surprise for you tonight. I’m sure you will be very excited. You are excited that Mistress has decided to give you a little surprise, aren’t you, Pam?

Pam shyly nodded, “Yes Mistress, I am not worthy of such a kind and loving Mistress.”

“Of course you are, Pam.” Cooed Mistress, as she continued to brush Pam’s long, dark hair. “You are such an obedient little slut. So eager to please.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Pam said, quietly. “You know I would do anything to please you, Mistress.”

“I know you would, my pet. That’s why I have decided to help you get over this obsession you have with your hair.”

Mistress gathered Pam’s hair in to a ponytail, brushing the hair between her thumb and outstretched fingers, continuing to brush the thick hair across the palm of her hand.

Pam’s eyes flashed as the realization of what Mistress just said began to register in her brain. Her beautiful hair, her pride and joy, the only part of her that Mistress hadn’t changed.

Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes. Her lower lip began to quiver. She began to plead, “Please, Mistress, please let me keep my hair?”

Mistress smiled cruelly. “Of course you can, Pam. We’ll put it in a little box for you. You can keep it and look at it any time you want. It will remind you of its original color.

“Original color? No, Mistress, please.”

Now, don’t be a baby. I’ve decided to cut it much shorter and I’ve been toying with the idea of bleaching it.”

A look of terror quickly appeared on Pam’s face. “Bleach it? You mean blonde?”

Mistress laughed sarcastically. “Yes, Pam, Of course I mean blonde, you silly girl. What would be the point in bleaching it if I didn’t want to make it blonde?

“Actually, I was only teasing, Pam, when I said I had been toying with the Idea of bleaching your hair” Mistress said slyly.

Pam openly breathed a sigh of relief.

Mistress continued, “What I meant was, that I have already decided to go ahead and bleach your hair. In fact I have everything all ready for you. We’re going to do it tonight!”

Pam began to plead. “Oh, please, Mistress. Please don’t do this to me. I will look terrible. My beautiful hair will be ruined.”

“Yes, Pam.” Mistress said, coldly. “I’m sure it will. Bleaching can be very hard on the hair. But I’ve made up my mind. Now, I want you to go into my bathroom. On the vanity, you will find a pair of scissors and two boxes of bleach. Another box contains the toner we’ll use to dye your hair the final color. Anyway, you will open one of the boxes of bleach and follow the instructions inside. It will tell you how to mix the chemicals we’re going to put in your hair tonight. I want you to add both packets of booster and mix it all together in the plastic bowl. I’ll be in shortly and we’ll get started with your blonding. Oh, and Pam, while you’re waiting for me, I will expect you to take the scissors and cut your hair off at chin level. I will finish cutting it for you after we’re finished bleaching and drying it. Now go on. Scoot!”

With tears now running down her cheeks, Pam opened her mouth to speak. Mistress immediately put her finger to her mouth and shook her head. Realizing the situation was hopeless, Pam obediently turned and slowly walked to Mistresses bathroom.

On the vanity through cloudy eyes, she saw the three boxes of hair color. She found the bleach and began half-heartedly, mixing the chemicals. She stared at the other box as she stirred the thick blue cream. The young girl on the box had platinum white hair. She couldn’t imagine herself with hair that color. Soon, she wouldn’t have to imagine. Her thoughts were interrupted, as the slight smell of ammonia burned her nostrils. It had been ineffectively disguised with a sickening, sweet fragrance. She was still sobbing quietly when Mistress entered the bathroom.

“You haven’t cut your hair yet, Pam?”

“No Mistress.” Pam said, sniffling. “Please, Mistress. Please don’t make me cut my hair.”

“Well get on with it.” Mistress snapped.

With painful hesitation, Pam slowly gathered her mid-back length hair into a neck length ponytail and picked up the scissors. She stopped to glance one more time at Mistress. All hope diminished as Mistress nodded, signaling her to proceed to sever eighteen inches of her silken growth.

As Pam began hacking through her thick main, Mistress smiled smugly, watching clumps of long dark hair falling onto Pam’s shoulders and raining all around her feet.

By now, Pam was sobbing openly. She stared in the mirror at herself. Her hair was an uneven, obviously self-hacked mass. She took one look and burst into tears.

Unmoved, Mistress impatiently pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap and directed Pam to sit on the edge of the bathtub. She handed Pam the bowl of bleach. With a rattail comb, she parted Pam’s hair down the middle and across the top, dividing it into four sections. Handing Pam the color brush, she instructed her to load the brush heavily with bleach. Pam reluctantly complied, pushing the short, stiff bristles into the thick blue cream. As she handed the brush back to Mistress, her hand was abruptly pushed away.

“No, Pam, you will ask me if I will help you bleach your hair. Tell me that you want me to help you look more like the little slut that you are. Convince me that you want me to apply it for you.”

Pam looked at Mistress with pleading eyes.

“Say it, Pam. Tell Mistress what she wants to hear.”

Pam thought for a moment, realizing the hopelessness of her situation. Between sobs, she held the brush out with a trembling hand. “Mistress?”

“Yes Pam?”

“Would you please help me to bleach my hair?”

“Why, Pam?”

Pam cleared her throat and in a shy little voice said, “So I will look more like a slut?”

Mistress smiled triumphantly. “Of course I will, Pam,” she said as she took the brush from Pam’s hand. “You know it makes Mistress very happy to hear my little Pammy ask me to help her bleach her hair. Goodness, won’t you look like a cheap little whore with your new bottle blonde hair?”

Pam barely nodded.

“What, Pam?” Mistress snapped. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s better, Pam. You must learn to speak up. Mistress wants to be sure you understand exactly why we I am doing this to you. You must get over this obsession you have with your hair.”

As Mistress began to dab the bleach onto the first lock of Pam’s virgin hair, she decided to engage the hapless Pam in conversation. She was gloating to herself, as she fortified her control over young Pam. As the empty color brush was handed back to Pam, she obediently loaded it with more bleach and handed it back to Mistress. Mistress enjoyed the fact that Pam was actually being made to participate in her first little hair coloring session. She would enjoy this opportunity to further traumatize poor Pam by actually forcing her to discuss the act of having her hair bleached. As she continued to dab bleach onto locks of Pam’s hair, she began her cruel game.

“Pam, I want you to answer truthfully, okay? Mistress promises not to get angry with you, if you are truthful.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You loved your dark hair, didn’t you?”

Pam began to cry. “Yes Mistress.”

“Would you have ever considered changing your hair color?”

“No, Mistress.”

“What have you always thought, whenever you’ve seen a young girl wearing heavy makeup with fake tits and obviously, out of a bottle, bleached blonde hair?”

Pam felt herself being baited. She knew what Mistress wanted her to say. She reluctantly complied saying, “I’ve always thought they looked like sluts, Mistress.”

“Exactly, Pam. Just the way people will see you with your dyed blonde hair.”

“Every respectable, happily married woman will hate you, Pam. Because you represent every woman’s nightmare. Does that bother you, Pam? ”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well, Pam, the fact is, I have been toying with the idea of bleaching your hair for some time now. I have been fantasizing about it, in fact. It is in such good condition, so shiny and healthy. What a shame, the bleach will certainly destroy all that. But then, silky healthy hair just doesn’t look right on a little slut, anyway. Does it, Pam?”

Pam swallowed hard and half-sobbing quietly answered, “No, Mistress.”

“I should have done this a long time ago. I absolutely love the thought of having my little Pammy having to submit to this kind of thing and the fact that she doesn’t want it done, makes it even more exciting for me. So, you see, your crying just makes it that much better.”

Mistress finished applying bleach to the last remaining lock of Pam’s dark brown hair, and began humming quietly to herself as she proceeded to work the mixture deeply into Pam’s hair with her gloved fingertips.

Pam wondered how Mistress could take this so lightly. Her beautiful sable brown hair was being destroyed and Mistress was acting as if it were nothing.

Pam’s thoughts of self-pity were quickly broken as Mistress calmly began making remarks, almost with fascination, as she played in Pam’s hair.

Mistress was acting like a child with a new toy. She sounded almost excited as she said, “Pam, your hair is really starting to get lighter. You should see it. It’s turning orange!” She was eagerly lifting pieces of Pam’s saturated hair, squeezing the bleach between her gloved fingers, examining the progress and wiping it back on. “I think we’ll leave it on the full hour. Then we’ll wash it and bleach it again. Oh, Pam, I hope we can make your hair platinum. With your dark eyes and black eyebrows, no one would ever doubt that your hair is out of a bottle. You will look like such a little slut!”

After two full hours of bleaching, Pam’s hair was rinsed and shampooed. Mistress was humming away, playfully drying Pam’s hair. As she waved the blow dryer back and forth, the pale yellow hair blew all around Pam’s face. As before, she made Pam mix her own toner and obediently ask Mistress to apply it to her tired hair. The dark purple lotion remained on Pam’s hair twenty minutes and when Mistress rinsed it out, she was delighted at the results. It was only after she had blown Pam’s hair dry, that she allowed Pam the first look at her new snowy white, platinum hair. No one had natural hair that color. Pam was devastated. Mistress was very pleased with her work.

Pam took one look and began to cry again, only to have her face slapped hard by her unfeeling Mistress. To her, Pam was just a toy to be dressed up and played with. She would come to enjoy dyeing Pam’s hair with an almost fetish-like passion. She knew Pam hated it. She would constantly enjoy taking her hair to the limit of its tolerance. Abusing it with peroxide and strong dyes. Each time, she would watch with fascination as the chemicals worked their magic on her little slut-toy’s hair.

Pam’s hair color was to become her obsession. Pam would be required to continually condition her hair so Mistress could abuse it with yet another bleach or dye job. Any breakage that resulted, she considered as Pam’s fault, for not conditioning enough. Eventually the day came when Pam’s hair couldn’t stand any more chemical abuse. Pam would never forget that day…

The night before, Mistress had again decided to change Pam’s hair color. She had seen a singer in a local bar with the entire front two-inches of her hairline bleached yellow blonde. The remaining hair was left its natural brown. She had commented to Pam that she thought the look was very sexy and would look good on her.

The only problem was that just two weeks before, on a whim, she had dyed Pam’s hair red. She was able to re-dye Pam’s hair brown and had done her best to lighten the front of Pam’s hair with bleach. But, the following day a section of Pam’s bangs had broken off.

Mistress became enraged, calling Pam a slut and accusing her of trying to sabotage her. She grabbed Pam and tied her to a chair. As Pam sat helpless, Mistress left and returned holding a pair of scissors and some hair clippers.

Pam began to squirm and cry out, as Mistress began plunging the scissors randomly into Pam’s hair, taking deep cuts as she swore at her. Large chunks of hair rained down onto Pam’s lap and down her back. She cruelly held a mirror in front of Pam’s face. Her eyes focused in disbelief, at the hacked up mess that once was her beautiful hair. She could see light patches of her scalp throughout varied lengths of her newly dyed brown hair.

Mistress quickly pulled the mirror away and Pam soon heard the ‘pop’ and ‘hummmmmm’ as the clippers came to life. With the guard removed, Mistress positioned the clippers at Pam’s front hairline. Without hesitating, she held the back of Pam’s head firmly and deftly plowed a path through her hair from bangs to crown. Severed hair fell everywhere. Mistress continued until only short stubble remained on top of Pam’s head.

She roughly bent Pam’s ears forward as she ran the clippers up both sides of Pam’s slender head. Pam felt Mistress holding her forehead as she positioned the clippers against the back of her neck. Within seconds, Mistress was running them up her nape to the top of her head. Minutes later, years of Pam’s careful pampering and a year of Mistresses chemical abuse had been reduced to a shadow of short stubble. Pam was beyond pleading as she sat, silently whimpering.

Mistress left and returned once again. This time she was carrying a razor and a can of shaving cream. She held the can upside down over the center of Pam’s head and depressed the nozzle. As if putting whipped cream on a chocolate sundae, she made decreasing circles forming a mountain of shaving cream on top of Pam’s head.

By now, Pam had suddenly realized her dilemma and began screaming and struggling to free herself. Instantly, Mistress slapped her face hard and screamed at her to be still. Pam lowered her head and began to cry as Mistress proceeded to spread the white foam liberally all over Pam’s head. With long deliberate strokes, Mistress silently denuded Pam’s head. Pam knew she would be punished further for her outburst and Mistress wasted no time in delving out her punishment with immediate, swift and deliberate dispatch.

Mistress stared into Pam’s terrified eyes as she smeared shaving cream onto Pam’s delicately groomed brows. After instructing the helpless Pam to be still, she slowly and methodically used the razor to remove both of Pam’s eyebrows. She kept Pam’s head shaved from then on. The shavings were done almost daily, and always with Pam restrained.

Pam eventually grew tired of the constant abuse and as much as she felt a need to be dominated, the submissive young Pam finally managed to escape from the tyrannical Mistress.

For a while, she exploited the body Mistress had given her, working as an exotic dancer.

Ironically, she eventually went to school and became a hairdresser. Although, Pam has remained a submissive, she now willfully changes her hairstyles and hair color to please her Master. They were recently married and are now living in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Pam never contacted her parents again.

Her evil and manipulative Mistress continues to prey on young runaways and may return in future stories.