Well, I Did Steal

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My boss called me into her office around noon. She then handed me a manilla folder. It was full of stills from security cameras that I didn’t know existed. They showed me stealing from the stores. They weren’t big thefts. You know, I would occasionally take a lipstick from one of the displays or slip a twenty from the register in my pocket. Still, over time, they added up to an amount that could get me jailtime if she decided to press charges.

“Please,” I said, summoning up some tears, “I will pay you back.”

She laughed because she knew my tears were fake. “Yes, that’s a given, though it won’t be with money. You clearly don’t have any.”

She suddenly stood up from her desk. Despite her bulk, she deftly knelt down before me and pulled off my skirt and panties. I gasped as she started eating me out. That being said, even though she was, well, ugly and butch, she was making me cum. As I sat, my waxed pussy being well-serviced by her tongue, I thought, I’m okay with letting this bull dyke touch me if it means that she won’t call the police on me.

Yeah, I’m an idiot because, once she made me climax, she started stoking my chic black bob, paying attention my shaved nape.

“Ever shave your head before?” she asked.

Purring because I love attention, I said, “No,” only to have her slap me.

“Always address me as mistress, slave,” she said, “and I’m about to shave yours.”

Shaking, I let her undress me. She then sat me back down on the chair. Hard. Then she pulled out a pair of big black clippers. My chic black bob was soon on the floor. She actually made me sweep it up. The humiliation.

“Look at you,” she said, watching me dump my hair, my own hair, “You look like a boy now with that skinny titless frame and that buzzcut. No more dick for you. Just big butch dykes like me. I should shave you to the skin just to ugly you up further. In fact, sit down.”

Crying, I sat down and allowed her to cover my scalp in a thick layer of shaving cream. She then bic’ed it smooth. Eyebrows included. Once she finished, she showed me, and, without my hair, I did look like a boy with my skinny frame and angular face. A very, very bald boy.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry – it’s gonna get worse,” she said.

Then she pulled out a piercing gun. She pierced both my nipples, my clit, and my tongue. Then she trained me on how to eat pussy. I had to do it until I got it right. When I finally performed to her satisfaction, she presented me with a white polo, black slacks, and white Crocs, my new work uniform.

It’s been four months since she caught me stealing and gave me a “little makeover”. That’s what she calls her destruction of my beauty and femininity. I’m still bald and browless, and I still need to wear my boy uniform at work. She’s also been giving me a piercing a week. My face is dripping with hardware now.

And, yes, when I’m not servicing customers, I’m servicing her.

Why would I leave? It’s a great place to work for a freak like me.

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