The tall bronze-skinned woman looked up at Chelsea on the stage, the girl’s head and sex freshly shorn of their coverings. She smiled, knowing she had not only won the lottery, but would be laying claim to the best of the eight offerings. She would not have been mistaken in her assumptions, when she saw the small dribble of juice wet the inside of the girl’s thigh. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also what was known as a ‘natural strip’.
Chelsea gazed at the tall woman, whose eyes were running up and down her exposed body. The sensation of being so regarded was not an unpleasant one. There was a distinct superiority in her countenance, and that alone added to her shame. In turn, that shame translated to all sorts of emotions, not the least of which was extreme arousal.
All of the ponytails were gathered together into a single bundle, Chelsea noticed, hers the longest and most blonde; most obvious amongst the others. Her attention was quickly averted as the tall Caribbean-looking woman strutted onto the stage, grasping her arm, roughly.
“This is Chelsea Manning, but you may name her as you will, of course. Her family is in the twelfth bracket, so she may be quite spoiled.” One of the staff announced as they walked away from the front of the stage.
With her free hand, Chelsea reached up, running her fingers over the ultra-short stubble, a hair’s breadth from being totally smooth. She gasped audibly, which brought a snicker from her new owner.
“You best get used to that, girly-girl.” Her owner grinned, her thick Cajun accent laced with undertones of French.
“I’m so glad you plan to keep her bald.” The staffer smirked. “I simply cannot condone the lackadaisical way some of the recipients treat their strips.”
“Bald?” The woman ran her long slender fingers over Chelsea’s scalp. “This…” she rubbed her fingers together annoyedly, “…is not bald. Soon enough, girly will have a taste of my blade.”
Chelsea suddenly imagined the woman, standing over her with a frightening straight razor glinting in the dim light of some back street hovel. The image ingrained itself in her mind, and she couldn’t help but add the notion to the long list of enticing thoughts and events of that day.
Chelsea tried her best to understand her emotions. Why wasn’t she upset, as the other strips were? Most were slowly coming to grips with their situation, but some faces were still damp with grief. She had felt none of that, and to be honest, she was glad of it. She had no idea where this strange erotic strength had come from, but she was grateful for it.
“Kneel, strip.” A male voice demanded from behind her. His forceful hand barely gave Chelsea a chance to comply. Suddenly, her neck was encased in something smooth, and cold. She felt a slight heat at the nape of her skull and a sharp snap signaled that her collar was now in place.
She remembered learning that the collars were completely inert to any tools or cutting. The mechanism that had sealed it so ruthlessly around her neck would automatically release three-hundred sixty-five days after its closure. Until then, it would remain, a constant reminder of her status. The woman pulled a short length of chain from her pocket, fastening it to the ring under Chelsea’s chin.
She thought back to when she had seen Amanda, knowing that she was the same. Her friend had seemed so humiliated, Amanda’s eyes forced down onto the pavement beneath her bare feet. A tug on Chelsea’s neck broke her silent reverie.
As the woman led her through the doors of the intake center, Chelsea felt the strangers’ eyes upon her as they walked down the street. Chelsea wondered whether the woman would soon tuck her safely into a car, but as they descended the stairs to the subway, she knew she would be spending a great deal of time naked, and on the street.
Chelsea had no idea what she looked like now. Was she hideous? From the looks and stares she was getting as they boarded the train, she most certainly must have been. Or was their obvious disgust simply because of who Chelsea was? She was, after all, a strip; naked, hairless, and just… less.
“So…girly? What name does your momma call you by, huh?” The woman asked, turning to look at her for the first time since the intake hall. “And, no lies, or you will know pain like fire.”
Chelsea knew that she meant what she said. She imagined that pain would soon become a regular part of her existence. That was one thing that did nothing for her newfound erotic defense. “Cici,” Chelsea muttered, truthfully.
“Cici. Perfect for you, girly-girl. Cici it is, then.” She said, turning back to meet the stares from her fellow passengers. “See how they stare, Cici. You better get used to that too.”
They exited the train in a part of the city where Chelsea had never been. She knew it was home to a large population of Latin Americans, but what she knew could not have prepared her for what was to come.
Claps and jeers erupted from the windows and front porches of the houses as they walked down the narrow street, as people seemed to pour out to watch ‘Cici’ pass by. Many were congratulatory, the woman brushing off the accolades with a wave of her hand. For Cici, it was a very different experience. This was going to be her neighborhood for the next year.
They walked up to the stoop of a very colorfully painted house, square in the middle of the block. Some of the men had formed a train behind them and they gathered on the sidewalk as the woman unlocked her front door. “That’s enough from you now.” She shushed, pushing the door open with her hip. Then, they were inside. The woman smiled and seeing no need for it, removed the heavy chain that ran through the steel ring at the front of Cici’s collar.
To call the place lavish would have been an understatement. Every inch of the large living room they entered was adorned with colorful decorations, and the furniture seemed brand new and very expensive.
“Rule number one, Cici. No furniture for you. The floor is good enough, and probably cleaner than what even you are used to.” She nodded her understanding, but it was not good enough. “You are not mute, Cici. You will answer me when I speak to you.”
“Yes…” Cici muttered, “I understand…”
“Miss Amoya.” The woman finished.
“Yes, Miss Amoya.” Cici voiced more assertively.
“Come. We must finish the job those butchers started.” Amoya led Cici back through the house, which was far larger than it appeared from the street. Each room seemed more opulently appointed than the last. Surely, this woman was too well off to be a recipient, Cici thought.
At the end of the hall, they came to a large and very brightly finished bathroom. The floors and walls appeared to be encased in marble, which, considering the rest of the house, seemed fitting. Perhaps she would be more comfortable than she imagined here.
Amoya directed her charge to sit on a clear plexiglass chair, that she had moved to face a mirror, stretching ceiling to floor. “All this…” Amoya ran her fingers over her head, “must go, and go for good.” The friction of her hand on the rough stubble, caused Cici to feel aroused all over again. But perhaps it was her appearance that contributed to that more than anything else. It was the first time she had actually seen herself.
Gone was the lovely blonde heiress whose reflection had graced the mirror in her bedroom at home. No, this person was far removed from that memory. Cici’s starkly shorn scalp was jet white, the stubble unseeable due to its silvery color. Her ears were far larger than she ever imagined, protruding from the sides of her newly shorn head like pink clam shells, the tips nearly red from her embarrassment.
The black carbon collar was the only thing to break the smooth expanse of flesh, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her feet were already filthy from the subway and the street, the dark shading creeping up the sides of her toes and ankles.
Her reverie was broken by a hot towel being placed over her head. To Cici’s astonishment, Amoya had shed her clothes, revealing a lithe, trim form, that was only slightly lighter than the bronze tone of her face. Cici couldn’t help but admire her, although she had never in her life been attracted to other women. She imagined that concept would become all too familiar to her.
The towel removed, Amoya painted Cici’s scalp from a cup, the lather smelling of lavender and the sea. “This was my father’s.” Amoya pointed out, opening the ancient-looking blade, its width abbreviated from countless sharpenings. “It is deadly sharp and dangerous to anyone who is not trained in its use.”
Cici felt the blade against the back of her skull as it began to denude her for real. The delicate scraping sent shivers through her, and Amoya scolded her for moving. “You must remain perfectly still, Cici.” And so, Cici stiffened her resolve, but her drooling sex was a dead giveaway, however still she remained.
Amoya looked down, grinning over the small smear of clear viscous joy, spreading forward from Cici’s roughly shorn pussy. “As I said, Cici, you are,
without any doubt, a natural.”
“Why do you say that?” Cici questioned, earning a sharp slap to her left breast.
“No disrespect, girly-girl!” Amoya scolded. “You must always say… Miss Amoya.” She had slowly worked her way up the back and sides of Cici’s head, leaving only the top to be shaved.
Reiterating herself more carefully, Cici asked again. “Why do you say I am a natural, Miss Amoya?”
Amoya chuckled under her breath. “Because, Cici, unlike many, you find pleasure in your situation.”
Cici fought the urge to shudder as the menacingly sharp blade carved into the stubble at the top of her forehead. Her slight gasp only reinforced what Amoya had imparted a moment before. “You see… a natural.”
Cici thought the shaving was complete when Amoya finished with her head, but she was quite mistaken. Using her thumb, she spread a small amount of foam above Cici’s bright blue eyes. The shocked look on Cici’s face said it all as the delicate arches that gave such expression to her lovely face were scraped away.
“What do you say to that, girly-girl.” Amoya joshed, standing behind Cici, one hand on each of her shoulders.
Cici stared at her blank alien face, her eyebrows, which she had spent innumerable hours having shaped and plucked and micro-bladed, were now utterly absent. Her vibrant blue eyes seemed larger, stranded in a sea of pale white flesh.
“We are almost done, Cici,” Amoya exclaimed, reaching into the small pouch where she had deposited the straight razor. A very long set of tweezers came out in their stead, and Cici knew all too well what her new owner was after next.
Starting at the outer edge, Amoya began the painstaking process of plucking Cici’s lashes, one at a time. Cici was too shocked to be feeling all that much pain, only wincing occasionally, as a particularly deep-rooted lash tried desperately to hang on to her eyelid. Her cheeks were littered with the remains of her long luscious lashes. She remembered so many compliments in school, ‘how do you get your lashes so full’, or ‘you have the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen’ came immediately to mind. Now, they too were gone.
Without the fringe of lashes bordering her eyes, Cici looked freakish. She thought she looked odd without hair and brows, but without those thick lashes, she resembled some sort of strange reptilian creature.
After giving her slave some time to absorb the aftermath of her depilation, she reached back into the pouch and handed Cici a safety razor. “Go into the shower and rid yourself of any hair below that collar, girly-girl, and washed those disgusting feet too. You’ve made a mess of my floor.”
Cici stepped into the shower and turned on the tap bringing a rain of warm water cascaded down on her from the three wide nozzles above. She had heard of showers like this, but had never experienced the luxury, even in her parents’ palatial estate.
Cici set to work with the razor, ridding herself of the stubble left behind on her overstimulated sex. She could feel the difference between the water and her slick juices as they continued to flow from within. How she could possibly be aroused at this point, Cici had no idea. But as her fingers held fast the plump labia to rid them of their final covering, her thumb managed to brush against her clitoris, igniting a fire that desperately needed attention.
She thought of masturbating, right there in the shower, but feared what Miss Amoya might do to her if she was caught. She spared just a few quick strokes against the throbbing nubbin, bringing her ever so close to coming, but stopping just shy of it.
Of course, Miss Amoya appeared outside the glass of the luxurious shower just as Cici allowed a gasp to escape her lips. “None of that, now, Cici.” Still naked, she climbed into the shower with her, allowing her fingers to slide into the silky-smooth slot, and finding Cici’s tender morsel immediately. “Do not come until I say you can.” Amoya insisted, as her middle finger slid back and forth several times, causing Cici to writhe under her attentions.
“Oh… Miss Amoya, I need to come so bad.” Cici begged.
“What about my needs, Girly-girl? Would you come before your mistress?” Amoya spread her legs, her own smooth sex open and ready.
Acting on instinct alone, Cici pressed her fingers into the tender groove that was every bit as wet as her own. Amoya lifted her chin to look her square in the eyes.
Not with your fingers, Cici.” She forced Cici’s mouth open with her finger, extracting her tongue. “With this.”
Without thinking, Cici fell to her knees, bringing Amoya’s pussy within inches of her open mouth. Everything she had felt in her life up until that moment fought with what she was about to do. But as her lips enveloped Amora’s labia, and her tongue sampled the tangy juice, all her inner objections fell away. Her tongue quickly found Amora’s clitoris, circling it, caressing it, as if nothing could be more natural. ‘Natural’ She thought, ‘that word again. Is this what it means?’
Amora’s fingers wrapped about Cici’s rubbery smooth head, pressing her mouth deeply into her pussy, forcing her lips and tongue to bathe her sex in her saliva.
As something that she would become all too familiar with, Cici was left wanting, her orgasm so close but denied. She moaned silently to herself as Amoya guided her out of the shower, and back down the hallway to the living room.
“Kneel, Cici,” Amoya demanded, and her servant obeyed immediately, taking a spot on the oriental rub that covered the center of the room. You must learn the positions, girly-girl.” Amoya spread Cici’s knees open, so her sex was exposed at the apex of the thighs. “Now, place your palms upward, and lay them comfortably on the top of your legs.”
Cici felt utterly exposed like this but as she had been so cruelly denied, the sexual tension built between her open legs, once again. As if knowing what should be next as a matter of reason, she bowed her head, so that the smooth surface of her skull was plain to Amoya.
“This is Nadu. You will spend most of your time in this position, Cici.” Amoya instructed. “Now that you are properly prepared, I am intent on showing you off.”
Every Strip’s Worst Nightmare, Realized
This, of course, was what Cici feared most. To be seen in public as she was now would be so incredibly humiliating. Things had moved so far past just the simple shearing at the intake center. In Cici’s eyes, she no longer appeared human.
It was a bit of a shock when Amoya led her, the chain once again through the ring at the front of her collar, to a secluded garage in the rear of the house. Inside, was something quite unexpected. She dared not question her new owner as to the legitimacy of her claim, but there was no way this woman could possibly qualify as a recipient with a Ferrari in the garage.
Yet the very reason that question even arose, worked distinctly in her favor. Aside from certain rules, she was living in accommodations not so far removed from what she was used to at home.
“From your demographics sheet, you are from Belmont Heights. I know the area well, so I think we begin there.” Amoya gloated, opening the door for her slave and carefully placing a towel over the camel-colored leather. “I can’t very well have you messing up my car now, can I? You leak.”
The chain dangled down her front and the cold steel pooled between her legs, resting firmly against her sex, as the supercar roared to life. Soon, they had exited that part of the city, and were entering much more familiar ground.
“I often go shopping in the open mall in Belmont. I think we will take a stroll.” Amoya reached over and tugged on the chain. “What do you say to that, Cici?”
Cici was mortified. It was Friday evening, and the mall would be teeming with people who would undoubtedly know her, although, in her present state, she wondered if she might escape being recognized.
The all too familiar parking lot sent a shiver down Cici’s spine as they pulled in. So many times, she had come here with friends, to shop or have their hair or nails done. This had always been one of her favorite places to go. Now, she dreaded the thought of walking down the palm tree lined concourse, linking all her favorite shops.
As they exited the car, Cici had a moment of panic. Amoya had to tug rather vigorously on the leash to get her to move. “Don’t make me punish you in public, girly-girl. You think I don’t know how much this frightens you?”
“I am frightened, Miss Amoya. Someone will see me that I know.” Cici admitted, wincing.
“Oh, I am certain of it. That is what makes this so delicious.” Amoya chortled. “Come now. We have a special errand that must be dealt with tout-suite.”
As they passed the vaulted entrance, the stares Cici was getting were beyond condescending. She was being glared at. In all her times at the mall, Cici had never seen a strip there. Was she the first, she wondered?
A group of boys she recognized from school had crossed to the opposite side of the concourse, ogling her, and joking amongst themselves. She heard their comments, and for a moment she thought she might escape what she feared most; to be recognized for who she once was. Then, she heard it. One of the boys had called out after they had passed one another. “Chelsea?”
She didn’t turn around, hoping that they might simply accept that it couldn’t possibly be her. She watched a smile spread across Amoya’s face as the boys’ approaching footfalls grew nearer. Then, as if to spare her the humiliation, Amoya led her through the doors of a place all too familiar to her. Some banging on the glass behind her, assured Cici that she had been made.
The strong scent of lacquer and solvent filled the air, as Amoya towed Cici to the front desk. Cici had been there once a week for years and knew almost every technician. Every head in the place turned to see what must have been shocking to them. Why would a strip be in a nail salon?
“I would like a full set.” Amoya gleamed, and then looked over to Cici. “And my strip needs hers removed.” The manager, Herold, looked down his nose at Cici, but then as if a light had been flipped, knew her at once.
“Hello, Chelsea. That’s a new look for you.” He mused. “We don’t normally serve strips here, but in this case, I think we can make an exception. Let me see if Midori is free.” Midori had been Chelsea’s favorite tech for years, but as Cici, it was a nightmare come true. She had always been more than demanding, and even a little petulant concerning her nails and had abused Midori at times.
Amoya was led to one of the other technicians, handing off Cici’s leash to Midori, who was more amused than shocked. A quick tug on the chain told Cici that this was not going to be fun. Having acrylic nails removed was a delicate and sometimes painful process, and she was certain Midori would have no mercy.
“I always thought you were kidding when you said you were firstborn, Chelsea,” Midori commented, as she roughly deposited her naked client into the chair at her station. “Now, look at you. Nothing but a strip. You don’t have a hair on your body at all do you?”
Cici simply shook her head, as Midori took one of her hands and began grinding away at one of her exquisitely manicured nails.
“It suits you, you know, this lizard thing you’ve got going on,” Midori commented. One by one, her nails were reduced to nubs, colorless, and thin. She poured a bowl of solvent for each hand and plopped Cici’s fingertips in. Midori had been so rough that it stung terribly. “You remember the drill. Twenty minutes.” The technician stood and walked over to the station where Amoya was receiving the royal treatment.
For the moment, Cici was alone, but a familiar voice echoed from the rear of the shop. Then the laugh made it all too clear that one of her arch-enemies was there. Alexa Price had been her nemesis in school. They had stolen boyfriends from each other, played brutal pranks, and just simply hated the other for years. There was no way Alexa would have missed her coming in, but as of yet had simply ignored her.
Maybe she just didn’t recognize her. Every once in a while, those steel grey eyes would lock with hers, but Cici would quickly avert, afraid that she would be forced into what would certainly be the most humiliating of circumstances.
Midori was back, her smile upon sitting down spoke of superiority and control. “Okay, let’s get these off and trim those nails to the quick, shall we?” With the last of the acrylic removed, Cici watched in shock as her natural nails were trimmed so close that there was nothing left, her puffy fingertips extending well beyond.
Cici was taken off guard when Midori grabbed onto her leash, dragging her towards the back of the shop. What she feared most was about to happen. They were going to walk directly past Alexa Price. At first, all her enemy did was turn away, disgusted, as if she might smell badly as she passed. But then there was that moment of revelation. Alexa’s eyes grew wide, suddenly realizing who this hairless reptilian creature was that was being led naked past her chair.
“Chelsea Manning!” Alexa shouted. “My, how the mighty have fallen.” She stood and looked down at Cici from the advantage of her four-inch heels. To Cici’s absolute horror, Alexa reached out and ran her hand over her rubbery head. Then, to add insult to injury, she pulled out her phone and snapped several pictures. “Nobody’s going to believe this shit unless I put it out there.”
As if knowing that Cici had all she could stand without some serious consequences, Midori led her away. “Wash your hands!” She ordered.
Cici washed away the solvent as she had so many times before, only there would be no new nails to replace the old. Her fingers looked red and raw, and not the least bit feminine.
Rather than lead Cici back to her station, they moved further back into the rear of the shop. Midori closed them into a small room and kicked off her sneakers. “Kiss my feet, you worthless strip.”
Cici had no trouble obeying Amoya, but hesitated with Midori, until the girl yanked her leash so violently, that Cici fell to the floor at her feet. Knowing she had no choice, Cici lowered her face to the naked feet. Having been encased for a full day, the aroma was almost overpowering to her senses.
Before she knew what she was even doing, Cici had begun to kiss the clammy toes of the once servile technician, who had always clamored to please her. Now, it was Cici’s turn, and payback was a bitch. Before it was over, Midori had Cici licking every inch of her feet, threatening to report back to Amoya if she failed to please.
Then, as one final insult, Midori stood and lowered her jeans and panties, bending at the waist before Cici. “Now, strip, you will clean my asshole with your tongue.”
Having fallen so far already, Cici knew she had no choice but to obey. She opened the girl’s cheeks with her stubby fingers and pressed her face into the moist and quite fragrant cleft. Then the most ridiculous thing happened. Cici realized that her pussy was leaking copiously down the inside of her thighs. The more she licked at the tangy rosebud, the hotter she got. By the end of it, all she wanted to do was reach between her legs and masturbate. She never had the chance.
As soon as Midori was dressed, they were back out into the shop. Without so much as a second look, Cici was deposited back beside Amoya.
“Nadu,” Amoya announced. Remembering the pose, Cici knelt, spreading her knees and placing her palms upward. Amoya’s nose twitched, and Cici realized that all her foot and ass worship in the back of the shop and left a rather sticky residue on her face. Between that, and her open labia drooling unabashedly onto the marble floor tiles, made for a ridiculous sight, as Alexa Price strolled by.
“I hope you like it where you are, Manning, because when I’m done with this, you’ll never be able to show your face again.” And with that, she left, leaving Cici to ponder what her future really might hold, once her ‘sentence’ had concluded. She had no doubt that Amoya was not finished humiliating her. She was certainly destined to become the most infamous of strips. And, this was only her first day!