5 comments/ 26503 views/ 12 favorites The Shaved Slave By: jPhoenix Chapter 1 I don't think that I really paid much attention to Susan the first time that Mark brought her into the bar. Nobody really paid much attention to any girl that Mark brought in, because they probably weren't going to be around long. But after the inevitable breakup, if that's even the right word for the end of a two-date relationship, Susan stayed around in our little group of local bar hoppers. That wasn't entirely unusual either, nor was it uncomfortable for her and Mark to be there at the same time. It wasn't uncomfortable for any of us to be at a table with former fuck partners, actually. It was just that sort of town. What was a little uncomfortable was that Susan never really fit in. She dated a few people from the bar, never for long, and she went home with a few for the night. But she was shy and quiet and practically a nun by our standards, and so I don't think that I or anyone else in the regular crowd really noticed her even after she was one of us. It wasn't that she was unattractive. She put time into herself, and it showed in her curvy but toned body. Her long blonde hair was carefully styled, and her clothes were tasteful and as fashionable as anyone in a town our size ever got. She never showed too much skin, in contrast to a lot of the regulars, but it was clear to anyone with an eye for such things that she was hiding an impressive body. She had an air about her that seemed to be saying that she wouldn't turn down attention, but she wasn't going to go out of her way to attract it either. Even the shyness seemed to work for her with some guys, but for a long time, I just wasn't one of them. That all changed about a year after her introduction when she came in one Friday night and literally stopped every conversation. She was dressed the same as always, and she carried herself the same as always. But the long blonde hair that she had seemed so proud of had been shaved completely off. She was as bald as a newborn. I have a few fetishes that I keep between myself and the occasional like-minded partner, but the shaved head thing had never been one of them. I've seen a few women pull it off, of course, and I've seen a few more fail miserable. Susan was pulling it off, but that wasn't the only reason that she rapidly made her way to the top of my to-do list. The real reason for that came later in the night. Susan took her usual seat in a quiet corner of the bar and waited in her usual way for people to approach her rather than talking to them. It didn't take long, and the first few uncomfortable comments were mostly dancing around the cancer question. Even if she was a little off, Susan was one of us, and were all genuinely relieved when someone finally blurted out the question and got back an answer of no. But from there, the night took a less friendly direction. Nobody was outright cruel about it, but the sideways glances and stifled laughter were hard for me to miss. They were hard for her to miss as well, and I could see how humiliated she was getting. But I could also see something else, something that everyone else probably missed. The humiliation was exciting some part of her. It started as a flush to her face that neither alcohol nor embarrassment could fully explain, and eventually the more blatant laughter was even bringing on a quick flick of her tongue and an incredibly sexy bite on her lower lip. I had never really considered that sort of submissiveness to be a turn-on any more than bald heads, but that was probably because the few times I had tried to be dominant had been in situations where it was a halfhearted role play. Now, as I watched Susan subtly squirm in what I knew had to be dripping wet panties, the thought of humiliating a partner who was genuinely excited by it had my dick as hard as a hammer. I was playing a dozen scenarios through my mind as I sipped my beer and tried not to look as horny as Susan was, and it was still a few hours to last call when I decided that I was going to find a way to make them happen. But even I couldn't have imagined where it was all about to lead. My chance came almost right away. I was sitting at the bar when I noticed that things were getting heated at Susan's regular table. I was too far away to hear anything over the bar noise, but she and another regular named Katie were arguing. Again. If Susan was the relative prude of our little group, then Katie was definitely the slut. Theirs was an awkward friendship, and Katie had a bad habit of blowing off all other plans in order to go home with the first guy who asked. From the douche bag waiting impatiently a few feet away, it looked like that was exactly what was happening. I ordered one of Susan's beers while I waited for Katie and her conquest to clear out, and then I walked over to her table and slid the beer in front of her. She looked up with a genuine smile that lit her face, and I'm sure mine as well. "Thought you could use another one," I said as I dropped into a chair across from her. "Yeah," she said as she pulled the beer closer. "Thanks." "Sure," I said. "Katie again?" "I don't get it. It's not like she's that hot." I laughed at that, hoping that Susan had either forgotten or was just ignoring that I had been the guy leaving with Katie once or twice before. But if Susan were going to use indiscretions with Katie to filter out potential sex partners, then she was in the wrong bar to begin with. "You need a lift home, then?" I asked, trying not to sound eager. "No, she wasn't my ride." "Oh," I said, thinking that I had misread the argument. "So..." "I was staying with her for the weekend," Susan explained, looking like she close to tears. "My neighbor found a roach, and they're spraying the whole building. Katie was going to let me use her couch." "Well, the couch will probably still be free in an hour. That guy didn't look like the stay-the-night type." "No," Susan said with a quick laugh. "No, but she doesn't want me there at all now." "What?" I asked. "Hell of a time to tell you." "She said it was okay last week, but I haven't seen her since..." Susan trailed off. She absently reached up and ran her fingers over her head. Watching her red painted nails trail slowly through the light stubble was almost more than I could take, and I had a brief image of what it would be like to shave her completely smooth myself. The fantasy was cut short when I suddenly realized what had happened. I knew Katie was a bitch as well as anyone, but even I was surprised that she would have taken people laughing at Susan as an excuse to give her the boot. Susan must have seen the recognition on my face and she confirmed what I was thinking. "I don't think she likes it." "Well, fuck her!" I said. "I like it." "Really?" Susan asked softly. She was still trailing her fingertips across her head, and her lips parted seductively for a second before she caught herself and dropped her hand to her lap. "Umm..." She started to say as she recovered herself. "I don't, I mean... do you have..." "A couch?" I asked, jumping at the chance to turn my night's plans into a full weekend. "Actually I have a whole guest room. It's all yours if you want it." "You sure?" Susan asked. "I don't want to be in the way or anything." "I'm sure," I said. "You got all your stuff in your car?" "Yes. It's just one suitcase." "Then finish your beer." I intentionally made it sound like a command, and I wanted to gauge her reaction. There seemed to be a sudden shift in her demeanor, and she drained the beer and followed me out of the bar without another word. It was exactly the reaction that I had wanted. Thirty minutes later, Susan was in my guest bedroom and changing her clothes after I had told her to get comfortable. I was curious how she would interpret that. For my own part, I had changed into my usual around-the-house outfit of loose boxers and an old college t-shirt. I had been scrawny in my younger days, and the shirt clung nicely to the muscular physique that I had been carefully building since then. The boxers were a little different, as I had gone with a black silk pair instead of my usual flannel. I wanted to tease myself while I waited to see where the night was going, and the silk felt exquisite sliding over the head of my cock as I leaned against the kitchen bar and mixed a pair of margaritas. It felt even better when Susan came out of her room in a soft nightshirt. The shirt was loose, but it was still stretched a little across her chest. From her erect nipples popping through the fabric, she had obviously taken off her bra. But I was amazed that her breasts seemed as high and firm as always even without the support. The shirt went below her flat waist to her seductively wide hips, showing off firm and shapely legs and making me wonder if she had also forgone her panties. I got the answer a second later when she climbed onto a bar stool across from me without trying to adjust the bottom of her shirt. She was wearing panties, all right, and the thin white cotton even showed a small wet spot as she swung her legs around on the seat. "Sorry," she said when she noticed my gaze. Her face flushed with sexy embarrassment again, and she reached toward her legs to adjust her shirt. "Don't," I said suddenly, surprising myself. "Don't be sorry," I added with a smile. "I told you to get comfortable, right?" "Yes," she said softly. She brought her hand back up, leaving me with my view. The damp spot was wider now, and the wet cotton was outlining her swollen pussy. I was surprised to see pubic hairs showing through, and it seemed funny that she would have shaved her head but not her crotch. I realized that I knew exactly what I wanted to do now, and I reached over and gently rubbed her head. The stubble was surprisingly soft and sensual under my fingers. "Did you do this yourself?" I asked. "Yes," she replied, lowering her gaze. "I didn't do a very good job," she added. "You should have used a razor," I said. "I know. I... I didn't want to cut myself." I pulled my hand slowly back from her head and took a pull from my drink. "Well," I finally said. "I guess I'll have to do it for you." Susan drew in a sharp breath, and her face flushed again. "Please," she said with a tremble. "Would you?" "Go to the bathroom," I ordered. "Take the drinks." Susan slipped off her bar stool and took a glass in each hand. She started toward the hall bathroom next to her room, and I watched her hips sway for a moment before. "No," I said, and pointed toward the master bedroom. "My bathroom." I watched as she slid past me, her tits subtly bouncing up and down under her night shirt, and then I picked up the bar stool that she been sitting on and followed her to my bedroom. She crossed the room in the dim light and obediently went straight to the bathroom, stopping at the center of the large space. I set the stool down behind her and told her to sit, and then I switched on the light. The bathroom was one of the reasons that I had bought this house, and it included both a corner tub and walk-shower as well as a large vanity sink. I crossed to the sink and started the hot water before gathering what I needed. When the sink was full, I shut off the water and stood in front of Susan. My dick was still achingly hard, and she couldn't help staring at it. I reached down and took the glasses that she was still holding, enjoying a long drink from mine before setting both on the vanity, and then I dipped a wash cloth in the steaming water. I turned back to Susan, standing behind her now, and lowered the cloth to her head. She jumped as the hot water met her scalp, and I watched with pleasure as it ran down her neck and face. Standing over her, I could see a stream run down her cleavage and dampen the front of her shirt. I took a moment to work rub the cloth around her head, and then I tossed it on the vanity and picked up a can of shaving gel. I spayed a line directly on the top of head and slowly worked up a foam with both hands. It took a while and a few more handfuls of gel to cover everything, and I worked as slowly as I could. I wanted to build as much anticipation as either of us could take. Finally, I rinsed my hands in the sink and picked up a fresh razor. I started at the center of her head, slowly pulling the blade back toward her neck. It made a scraping sound as the stubble gave way, leaving a sensual trail of freshly smooth skin. I worked slowly to my right, careful to remove every hair. Neither of us spoke, and I could hear her heavy breathing over the sound of the razor. When the first side was done, I moved back to the center of her head. But being right-handed, I realized that I wasn't going to have a good angle to shave the other side. So I walked around the stool and stood in front of her. Focusing on the details of the meticulous shaving had made my erection ease, but there was still a nice bulge in the front of my shorts. Susan reflexively parted her lips at the sight of it, and with a quick motion, I tugged down the front of my shorts and thrust my semi-hard cock past her lips and deep into her mouth. It sprang to life immediately, and I savored the sensation of growing hard against her warm tongue. Susan tried to move her head forward on my shaft, but I reached down with my free hand and lightly slapped the freshly shaved side of her head. "Don't move," I ordered, and she obeyed. I slowly pulled my hips back until just the tip of dick was in her lips and then slid back as I started shaving again. I timed it so that the razor stroke ended just as my pubic hair was brushing against Susan's nose, and then I pulled back and repeated the process. I held a slow and steady rhythm of thrusts while I finished shaving her head, and she had to keep perfectly still while the sharp blade was on her. Several times it looked like she wanted to reach down and rub herself, but since she seemed to sense that I wasn't going to let her, she dug her hands into her thighs instead. They were red by the time that I finished shaving and dropped the razor on the vanity. I picked up the damp cloth and dipped it in the sink again, and then I washed the last bits of foam from her head while still keeping a constant rhythm of sliding in and out of her mouth. When her head was clean, I very slowly ran my fingertips over the delicate skin. It was like nothing that I had ever felt before, and the combination of sensations coming from cock and my hands was overwhelming. I wasn't going to last much longer, and so I grabbed both sides of Susan's head and pushed her up and down on myself while I stopped thrusting. I wanted to see what kind of a blowjob she could really give, and she didn't disappoint. I grabbed her right hand and wrapped it around my shaft, and she quickly got the message that she had free reign. She squeezed me tightly with one hand and massaged by aching balls with the other while sucking me deep into her throat and running her tongue all around me. I had been building a massive load of cum for hours, and it was probably less than a minute before I pulled out and sprayed it all over her shiny bald head. I stroked and squeezed my throbbing dick a few times to make sure that all of the cum was out and then lowered it back to Susan's mouth. She dutifully licked the last drop from my slit, and the sharp pulse that ran from my sensitive head made me shiver. I stepped back and drained my margarita while I proudly admired the volume of glistening juice dripping slowly down the side of her head. "Rub it in," I said, still catching my breath from the intense orgasm, and Susan gingerly touched her smooth skin before eagerly working the cum around with her hands. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as she explored the feel of her smooth skin." "Good girl," I said. "You should finish your drink now. We have a lot more to do." To be continued... The Shaved Slave Ch. 02 Chapter 2 I had never really thought about how long it takes for cum to dry until I was standing in my bathroom and watching Susan's freshly shaved head turn from a wet glisten to a dull sheen. It was a surprisingly fast transition, and it gave me yet another idea for planning the next two days with this lovely new toy as my servant. "I'm going to cum on your head again," I told her. "A lot, actually. You can rub it in, if you want, but don't wash it off. Understand?" "Yes, sir," Susan said quietly. "Thank you." "Good," I said. "And you don't get to cum either, not until I tell you too. If you're good, maybe I'll let you on Sunday." "Yes, sir," Susan repeated. "Now take off your shirt," I ordered. "Let's see what else I have to shave for you." Susan let anticipation flash over her face as she obediently lifted the loose night shirt over her generous torso. Actually, 'generous' didn't nearly do her justice. From the way that they had been moving under her shirt, I already knew that her breasts were going to be amazing. But I was still taken back by the sight as they finally came into my hungry view. They were larger than I had guessed, a D cup easily, but they defied both their size and the laws of physics by standing firm and high on her chest. They were perfectly round, so much so that I might have thought that they were fake were they not so perfectly matched to her body, and each delicate pink nipple rose in the center of an equally pink areola. She dropped her shirt behind her and let her hands fall back to her lap. Her arms gently pushed her tits closer together, forming a perfect line of cleavage. I wanted to reach down and grab them, to pinch her nipples, and to shove my already hardened cock between them. But all of that would wait; there was still work to do. "Put your arms up," I said. "Over your head." She did so, and I let my gaze fall again to her tits as they lifted even higher on her chest. But I was really interested in something else, and I put a hand gently over one of hers and then let it brush slowly down her arm. Goose bumps followed the trail of my touch all the way to her armpit, where I stopped and scratched the stubble there. "You really need to do a better job taking care of yourself," I said with a disappointed shake of my head. "I will, sir," Susan said humbly. "I'm sorry." Ignoring her apology, I rewet the warm wash cloth that I had used on her head and soaked one of her armpits. Then I slowly moved the cloth across her chest to the other arm, letting warm water trickle down her cleavage and wash over her nipples as I went. When both arms were ready, I took up my shaving cream and razor and made as slow a job as I possibly could of shaving her armpits smooth. It took at least ten minutes, and I made Susan keep her arms over head the entire time. The position also kept her tits thrust out, and even if I had wanted to avoid pressing my silk boxer shorts up against them, it wouldn't have been possible. The water from her chest was soaking the smooth fabric of the shorts, and they clung tightly to the outline of my rock hard dick. Even taking my time, however, the shaving was done before I would have liked. I rinsed the last of the shaving cream away and then finally allowed Susan to put her arms back down at her side. I bent down suddenly in front of her, and she drew in a sharp breath as our lips nearly touched. But I held myself just barely out of her reach and instead reached down to caress her strong legs. Those it seemed that she had shaved before she went out, and I was partly disappointed that I wouldn't be able to prolong our anticipation for what was coming. But I also knew that there was one more part of her body that was definitely in need of a great deal of attention, and I was anxious to get to it. "Your legs are fine," I said as I straightened back up. "But you missed something else when you shaved, didn't you?" "Yes..." Susan answered softly. She kept her gaze lowered. "Yes, sir." "Let's see it, then," I ordered, and Susan responded by seductively spreading her legs apart. Earlier, when we had been in the kitchen, the dampness on her white panties had revealed hints of pubic hair. But now, the combination of her pussy juice and water from the wash cloth had turned the thin fabric completely transparent. Except for the wild hairs pressed against the cloth, her cunt was every bit as beautiful as the rest of her. From the short length of the hairs, I guessed that she used to shave herself fairly regularly but had for some reason let herself go. "Why is your cunt still hairy?" I asked, wanting to see her reaction to the coarse word for her sex. If she had any distaste for the term, however, she didn't show it. "I'm sorry, sir..." Susan started. "I just... Nobody has seen it for a while, so..." "That doesn't matter," I snapped. "You should always be ready to be shown off." "Yes, sir," she replied again. "Now stand up," I ordered, "and take them off." When she was at last naked, she stood submissively in in the middle of the room while I walked slowly around and admired her. She had a perfect hourglass figure, and her round ass was sumptuously large but still firm and toned. As I passed behind her, I gave her a hard spank and was rewarded with the sight of a red hand print rapidly appearing on her lovely cheek. "Next time I catch you with hair on your body," I whispered in her ear, "it will be a paddle instead of my hand." I moved back to face her and gazed at her cunt again before reaching down and running my fingertips through the short blonde fuzz. Pinching a little of the hair between two of my fingers, I gave a gentle tug. Her lips parted slightly to reveal the thick and hard hood of her clit, and I gave her pussy a slap as I released the hair. "Go sit on the edge of the tub," I said, pointing toward the large corner tub in my bathroom. Susan quickly sat, but she was facing out with her feet on the floor in front of the tub. "No," I corrected. "Put your legs in the tub." While Susan complied, I moved the shaving supplies to the edge of the tub next to her, and then I added a small pair of scissors that I normally used for trimming my beard. When everything was ready, I stripped out of my shorts and shirt and climbed into the tub myself. I sat facing Susan, enjoying the feel of the cold porcelain on my naked body, and roughly shoved her legs wide open. I started by cutting back the hairs as far as the scissors would allow, making sure to brush my hands over her clit as many times as I could. Each time, Susan drew in a breath or let out a subtle moan. When the trimming was done, I drizzled warm water over her cunt and then lathered up the shaving cream in my hands. I worked it in slowly, pausing over her clit and rubbing it until her breathing showed that she was getting close to an orgasm. I reached up with my free hand and slapped one of her tits. "Don't cum," I ordered, but I didn't let up on her clit. "I won't... sir..." Susan said between breaths, clearly struggling against her urges. I kept going until I was sure that she wouldn't be able to hold back to any longer, and then I abruptly pulled away from her swollen pussy and picked up the razor as if I hadn't even noticed her frustration. Reveling in the control that I had over her now, I started in with the razor. I worked from the outside, slowly and gently running the blade over her delicate flesh and watching the soft hairs pull away. I continued my torturous attention to her clit as well, bringing her to the edge of cumming and then pulling back twice more before finally working a slick finger into her incredibly tight cunt. I left it there, feeling her muscles contract against me while I finished shaving. There were a few hairs trailing down toward her asshole, I saw, but I couldn't reach them in her sitting position. Putting the razor down, I grabbed her hips roughly and forced her to stand. I turned her around, and all without speaking, pressed the small of her back until she got the point that I wanted her to bend over the edge of the tub. She did it, and my vision was filled by her tight and delicately pink asshole. Without warning, I slid a finger into that hole as well while I shaved away that last of her intrusive pubic hairs. Putting down the razor, I stood in the now slick tub and pulled Susan to her feet. I guided her out the tub and back to the plush throw rug in the middle of the room. "Lay down," I ordered. "Face down. And close your eyes." While she did as told, I opened a drawer in the vanity that held one of my many stashes of condoms. I pulled one out, quickly and quietly sliding the latex over my cock. I didn't want Susan to know what was coming, and so I reached down and slapped her ass again, adding a matching hand print to her other cheek. Before she could recover from the surprise, I dropped down on her with my knees on either side of hips. My cock was positioned directly over asshole, and using the combined lubrication of the condom and some left-over shaving cream and pussy juice that had trickled down, I slipped my swollen head past the vice of her anal entrance. Wanting to prolong my pleasure for as long as possible, and not knowing how much experience Susan had with the art of ass fucking, I worked my way deeper into her ass with agonizing slowness. When I was all the way in, I leaned forward and put my hands on the carpet for better leverage. I pushed slowly in and out a few more times, enjoying Susan's desperate gasps and moans with each thrust, and then I shoved my hands under her chest and grabbed her tits while dropping my weight completely onto her back. Her ass stayed unbelievably tight, but as she adjusted my girth, I was able to increase the pace of my thrusts until our grunts and moans were overtaken by the sound of my balls slapping against her wet ass cheeks. It had only been half an hour since my first orgasm, and I would have thought that the second would take a good amount of time to build. But before long at all, I was already on the edge. Susan was in the rhythm now, too, and she was involuntarily grinding her cunt into the soft plush of the rug. I gave her tits a harsh squeeze to remind her not to cum, and she let out a scream that put me over the edge. I quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off of my cock as her hungry ass gaped a few times from the sudden loss of its invader. I squeezed my cock tightly and slid up Susan's back just in time to shoot another load of cum all over her bald head. Panting, I reluctantly rolled off of Susan. We laid together quietly for a while we recovered, and I watched my second load of cum dry next to the crust of the first on Susan's sensual scalp After a while, I pulled myself to my feet and strolled naked into the bedroom. "Follow me," I called over my shoulder. Behind me, I heard Susan scramble to her feet. When she came out into the bedroom, I saw her sneak a sideways glance at my king bed. I smiled to myself, realizing that I really did want Susan to share it; just as I was also hoping that what we had just begun was going to last well beyond a single weekend. But that would come later. For now, I was drunk with the power of my new role and selfishly wanted to keep Susan in her place. But I also wanted to let her enjoy the submissive streak that she had obviously only recently discovered that she had. And so I casually plucked a pillow off of the bed and tossed it on the floor at the foot of the bed. "That's yours," I said, and Susan obediently curled up on the floor. I was pleased to see that she deliberately placed her head on the pillow so as not to disturb the still drying cum. "Now get some sleep," I said as I switched off the light. "I think it's going to be a busy day tomorrow." To be continued... The Shaved Slave Ch. 03 Chapter 3 In my opinion, there really aren't very many things that can make a Saturday morning better than simply sleeping in. But if anything can, then it would certainly have to be a naked, submissive woman kneeling patiently at the foot of your bed. That was exactly the sight that waited for me when I swam happily up from sleep on the morning after my first experience with Susan. "Good morning, sir," Susan cooed with a submissive smile "What would you like me to do for you?" "A bath," I said simply, and Susan rose immediately. Her large tits bounced hypnotically as she did, and I gazed at her beautifully round ass as she scurried to the bathroom. I laid back and relaxed in my bed, which was somewhat difficult as my morning erection was already raging, and I listened to hot water running in my tub. It was a large tub, and I amused myself while I waited by gently rubbing my dick. I didn't want to cum, but I did want to be as hard and straight as possible when I walked into the bathroom. With memories of the night before still in my head, not to mention fresh thoughts of a naked Susan in the other room, it didn't take much effort to keep myself excited. When the water stopped, I proudly strode in with my cock leading the way. Susan was standing ready at the edge of the tub with a washcloth and bar of soap in hand, and she smiled when she saw my state of arousal. I let her gaze as I passed, and I noticed that she had applied a thin layer of fresh makeup. From the delicate scent of herbal soap, I guessed that she had also quietly showered herself while I was sleeping. As I lowered myself in the steaming water, I checked to make sure that my dried cum was still adorning her scalp. I was sure that it would be, and I was not disappointed. Susan immediately set to washing my back and shoulders, working slowly and gently down each arm and taking extra time on my hands as our fingers entwined. She washed my hair and gave me a scalp massage, and then ran her hands under the water to clean my legs and feet. I lifted myself to my knees as she trailed the warm cloth over my ass, giving it as thorough a massage as she had done with my shoulders. My cock and balls were last to be cleaned, and she did that with her bare soapy hands. As she ran her hands over me, she seemed to be waiting for permission to stroke me to orgasm. I was tempted to let her, but I wanted to save it. I stood, signaling that I was done, and she softly rubbed me down with a towel that I was sure she had somehow found a way to warm. When I was dry, I sent her to the kitchen with an order for eggs and bacon while I put on my usual Saturday uniform of jeans and a T-shirt. I could already smell the seasoned bacon when I came out to the kitchen, and Susan had donned a kitchen apron that I kept hanging on a peg as the sort of unused decoration that people seem to expect you to have. It looked a lot better on Susan than it did on the wall, especially since there was nothing at all beneath it. There was even a glass of orange juice on the bar, and guessing by its rather light color, it included a generous dose of vodka. Susan hadn't noticed me yet, and a sudden inspiration struck me. I went back to the nightstand in my room and pulled out a vibrating silver bullet controlled by a wired remote. I returned to the kitchen and slid up behind Susan as she stayed intent on the stove. I knew her well enough already to guess that her pussy would be wet enough for what I was about to do, and I found that I was right as I slid the bullet inside and felt her powerful muscles reflexively grab it. She jumped a little but otherwise didn't acknowledge the new addition, and I set the vibrator on its lowest setting and then slipped the remote under the apron strings crossing her strong back before returning to my stool at the breakfast bar to watch her squirm. Susan pressed her legs together to hold the toy in place, not that her tight cunt needed any help with the task, and she subtly rubbed her thighs against each other. From the motion, I could tell that she was trying to find a way to put friction on her clit. "Ah,ah," I warned, and she stopped moving. But her face was already flushed, and I wondered how long she could hold out. Actually, I wondered how she had held out through any of my teasing at all. Even as I was thinking about how to step it up, I heard a sharp and sudden jump in her breathing. "Take the control," I said, and relief flushed her face as she thought that she would be getting a reprieve. But it was short lived. "Turn it up," I ordered, and she reluctantly but obediently thumbed the dial up one click. She was still keeping herself under control, but I could tell that it wasn't easy. Even so, I waited another minute until the bacon was about to over crisp before I let her turn the vibrator off and serve me. "Where's yours?" I asked as she arranged the entire contents of the frying pan on a single plate. "I thought you would want to eat first, sir," she replied. "Hmm," I said between bites of the perfectly cooked food. I found myself wondering just how far Susan wanted or expected the slave personae to extend. I couldn't have been happier with the arrangement so far. I couldn't ever remember having better sex, and I hadn't even fucked her cunt yet, but I realized that I didn't really want someone who would be subservient in every way. But I also understood enough to know trying to guess what she and then bending myself to it would be exactly what she didn't want. The best answer seemed to be to just do what I wanted and take it from there. "That's okay this time, I guess," I finally said, "but from now on we eat together." That seemed to please her, and so I didn't say more on it. I ate while Susan cooked her own breakfast, not wanting mine to get cold, and then I sipped my screwdriver and watched her eat. Afterward, she started cleaning the kitchen. It was a wonderful sight with her in nothing but the apron, and I decided finding a maid uniform - a real one and not some cheesy costume - would be a top priority. But something else was occupying my mind as I watched her occasionally sneak curious glances at the kitchen spatulas. Interesting, I thought, but I was having too much fun watching to explore the idea. After the kitchen was done, I set Susan on menial tasks around the house while I sat on a chair in the living room and pretended not to watch. In truth, I couldn't take my eyes off of her, but I did at least try not to get caught too many times. It turned into a game of Susan timing her movements so that she reached over her head or bent over at exactly the right time to catch my attention, but she was exquisitely subtle about it. The chores ended in the bathroom, and when Susan got down on her knees to scrub the floor, she arched her back and thrust her ass up in the air for me to see. The move forced the front of her apron to the floor, and her tits dragged back and forth across it with each thrust of the brush. I went to her and untied the apron strings, pulling the white cloth over her head and tossing it aside. She tried to pull her chest away from the floor, but I pushed her back down and reveled in the site of her nipples growing harder as they scraped across the hard tile. "Scrub harder," I said, pointing to the built-up grime in the grout lines. "I want it spotless." Her ass was bouncing and shaking now, and I watched for a while before going to the kitchen. I returned with one of the spatulas that she had been eyeing; a large wooden number that, like the apron, had previously served little more purpose than decoration. Susan's scrubbing had slowed, and her tits were occasionally lifting off of the floor as she worked, and so I didn't need to wait for a reason to give her ample ass a firm slap. There was a satisfying smack, and her cheek immediately reddened as she jumped and let out a yelp. "Don't stop," I ordered. "And put your tits back on the floor. I want to see them rub it." I spanked her other cheek before she had a chance to obey, and no matter how hard she scrubbed, I kept up the punishment. I planted a few slaps on the sides of her tits as well, especially when they strayed too far from the floor, and my hits were harder when she made the mistake of moving from a spot before it was gleaming white. When I was satisfied that she was cleaning properly, I wedged my foot between her calves and roughly forced her legs apart. Her deliciously wet pussy showed itself to me, and taking careful aim, I slapped it with the spatula. There was a wet smack, and when I pulled back, her clit was even more swollen that it had already been. I crossed the room and sat facing her on the edge of the tub. I unzipped my pants and finally released my throbbing cock, and Susan lit up as I started stroking it for her to see. "You can have it if finish in time," I teased. "But you'd better hurry." Susan started scrubbing vigorously, but she still cleaned every spot on her slow crawling journey down to the bathtub. Wickedly, I timed it so that my orgasm happened just at the moment that she finally reached me, and her bald head was decorated with the third cum shot of the still early weekend. Some of it ran down her forehead and dropped to the floor, and before I could even tell her to, Susan lowered her gleaming head and licked up every last bit. It was already late afternoon by the time that we finished, and not being able to immediately come up with anything else for Susan to clean and wanting to save my numerous ideas for torturing her further, I decided to indulge in my usual Saturday nap. I had my new slave gently stroke me while I drifted off. But my excitement got the better of me, and I woke only a few minutes later to find that Susan was sleeping peacefully on the floor and a raging erection poking up under my covers. The sight of her naked body curled up and the satisfied smile on her face as she slept only added to it, and I knew exactly what my next bit of fun would be. I slowly and quietly crawled out of bed and knelt over Susan, placing my dick only a few inches from her head. I teased myself slowly, wanting this one to last as long as possible. But after only a few strokes, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to hold out long. Thoughts of everything that I was planning to do with Susan flashed through my head like a dozen TVs playing porn on fast forward, and I could already feel the pressure building up in my balls. Compared to the orgasms that I had just had, it wasn't a terribly huge one. But enough cum landed on Susan's head to wake her, and she looked up at me with her gorgeous eyes. "Thank you, sir," she said "I needed that." The Shaved Slave Ch. 04 Chapter 4 A lot of people in our bar group went out on Fridays, but Saturday was the night when everyone did. Given the fun that I was having at home, of course, I hadn't really even thought about anything else. I certainly wasn't planning to spend the night with watered down drinks and bad karaoke when I could spend it bringing Susan to the edge of orgasm and plastering her head with my cum. But after we ate dinner and she cleaned up under the urging of the spatula, she turned to me. "Would you like to take a bath first, sir?" she innocently asked. "First?" I replied. "Before you go out? It's Saturday." I was taken back for a second, but it took only that time to decide what I wanted. "Before we go out, you mean. And make it a shower." Susan smiled and almost skipped to the bathroom. I waited until I heard the water running, and then I went into the guest bedroom and opened her suitcase. She had packed light - jeans, a few T-shirts, and what seemed like entirely too many pairs of panties for a single weekend - but I also found one of the modest dresses that she favored. I wished that it showed a little more cleavage, but that was Susan's style. And since I had absolutely no intention of allowing her a bra for the night, it would do fine. I wasn't going to add any panties to the outfit, either, but I did rummage through the case for shoes until my hand landed on hard plastic. I pulled whatever it was through the tangle of soft cloth, and I found myself holding a long massager with a cord hanging from the end. It was the sort that I suspected most people weren't really using for massage, and Susan's ability to hold an orgasm suddenly made a lot more sense. She was apparently used to the industrial-strength variety of stimulation. Grinning, I carried the items back to my room, careful to avoid the view from the bathroom as I laid the dress neatly out on the bed and plugged the massager in. I placed it on one of my pillows where Susan was sure to see it, and she was waiting for me when I entered the bathroom, soap and towel in hand again. She pulled the door to the stall open as I strode to her, and I almost laughed as I imagined a naked Susan holding the front door for guests at some swanky hotel. I climbed into the shower and then held out my hand. Confused, Susan dropped the bar of soap into it. I put the soap on a tray in the shower and then took the towel from her too, letting it fall to the floor before I grabbed Susan and pulled her into the stall with me. She reached up with her free hand to cover the dried cum on her head, but I pulled it away. I was sure that there would be a time when I would make her go out with semen stains on her sexy head, but it wouldn't be tonight. Tonight I was going to show her off in all of her glory. My large corner tub came at the cost of space for the shower, and it was actually a little small even for one person. For two, it was barely manageable. The only real way to go about it was to take turns soaping each other, and our slick bodies crushing together made the job infinitely more enjoyable. We ended up facing each other, and the head of my hard dick slipped between her pussy lips and teased her protruding clit. She started to gasp, but I cut it short by pulling her even closer and forcing our mouths together. The kiss - such a simple and common word hardly describes it - lasted forever. There was no hesitation, no tentative exploration by new lovers. It was deep and passionate, and when we finally broke, we were both breathless. There was no doubt from that point on as to where this was going. And in truth, there had never really been any before. It took every ounce of will that I had not to take her right there, especially with my wet cock only a quick thrust away from Susan's even wetter cunt. But I had told her that she wasn't going to cum until Sunday, and I was going to keep that promise of it killed me, which I was reasonably certain that it wouldn't. -- I was sure that just about everyone at the bar had seen Susan and I leave together the night before, just as I was sure that they were taking bets on whether we would show up together. I didn't care, of course. In fact, I would have been proud for us to be the topic of conversation, if we actually had been. As it turned out, there was no we about it. Susan was the only topic in the room - in the whole town for all I knew - as well she should have been. Metamorphosis seemed to be another of the talents that she had been keeping to herself, because she had never seemed so happy and confident in all the time that I had known her. She still got my drinks and stayed by my side, although she had a way of asking with her eyes when she needed permission to join another conversation or head to the ladies room, and she seemed to do the latter a lot. Otherwise, her submissive side was apparently only for me, which suited me fine. In fact, I came quickly to understand that really everything about Susan had just been waiting to come out, and I was the catalyst. Of course, the bar was still the bar, and a room full of horny people living vicariously can only go so long before someone starts talking about sex. I've never been one to brag, but in the past I wasn't above a wry smile or a dropped hint. On that night, however, I didn't even go that far. I knew that there was probably no end to the things that Susan would let me do to her, and even going through her suitcase had seemed perfectly natural for our newly found roles. But she had clearly reserved parts of herself for me, and violating that would have ruined everything. Ironically, I was thinking about that when an lanky and incredibly hot brunette dropped into a chair at my table as soon as Susan had gone for another drink. She was another regular, and I was one of the very few men at the bar who had never hit on her. But that was only because I was also one of the very few men who seemed to be able to pick up on the obvious message that anyone with a penis was wasting his time. "Brad," she said in a mock tone of scolding. "Brad, Brad, Brad." "Marie," I said. "You're looking annoying tonight." Marie was actually one of my closest friends, but we had a dynamic that would never let either of us admit it. She nodded to the bar where Susan was waiting to order." "You know how long I've been after that?" "You may have mentioned it once or twice." "And you stole it..." Marie shook her head. "She likes the quiet ones, I guess." "At least you see where you went wrong," I teased back. "I can be the quiet type! Well, not in bed maybe. Hey, so what's that like?" "What's what like," I asked. A conversation with Marie usually took footnotes to follow. "The sex, asshole! I mean with..." she made a subtle gesture toward her head. "You know." "Not really," I said. Marie let out an exaggerated sigh. "You're not going to give me anything, are you?" "I don't think I have anything you want, Marie." "Well, not that," she said, nodding at my crotch, "but fuck yeah, you've got something I want." Marie had been relaxing back with a foot up on the chair next to her, but she dropped it and leaned forward.as she gave me her trademark flirting face. "So how 'bout it, quiet guy? Wanna share your toys?" I opened my mouth to tell Marie to go fuck off, but Susan came back to the table at exactly the same time. She had barely sat down when, without asking, Marie reached over and sensually rubbed her head. The woman had no shame whatsoever, which usually was the reason that I liked her. "That's nice," Marie cooed. "Razor?" "Brad did it," Susan replied proudly. Marie laughed as she pulled her hand back. "Did he?" she teased, as if she had just guessed that Susan and I were together and was just so very shocked by it. Playfully, she cocked an eyebrow at me. "So?" she asked. Susan glanced toward me and instantly read the entire situation. Embarrassed, I started to look away. The truth was that I hadn't really known how to handle this. I certainly wouldn't have minded sharing my toys, as Marie so eloquently put it, but there was a big difference between subduing Susan in the way that she liked and forcing her into something that she didn't. A threesome less than twenty four hours into a new relationship seemed a little much, anyway. But then, this wouldn't technically be a threesome. I still wasn't going to let Susan cum and there was no way anything would happen between Marie and I even if I wanted it to, which I didn't. But then I saw Susan's reaction to the idea, and all of my indecision was suddenly academic. Hungry doesn't even begin to describe the look that she had on her face. Really? I asked with my eyes. Yes! She said back with hers. Marie caught the whole thing, and when I turned to her, she was grinning like a lunatic. "Don't worry, Brad," she said. "We might let you watch." -- If Susan and I leaving together the night before had made for rumors, then the three of us all walking together would have made the TV news. Fortunately, Marie never stayed late at our bar. She preferred to end her Saturday nights at a lesser known establishment that, when I asked once, she had only described as having a strict dress code. Skirts only, it seemed. About ten minutes after Marie left - she had the luxury of not having to pay a tab; she had probably never in her life bought her own drinks - Susan and I walked out hand-in-hand. When we pulled into my building a few minutes later, Marie was leaning seductively against her car and smoking a cigarette. She bounced over as Susan and I got of my car and took Susan by the hand. I had a feeling that, having delivered Susan to her waiting hands, my job for the night was over. But I was too excited to care. We were barely through the door before Marie was all over Susan, and I wondered if the slave personae would come out for her as well. Marie was pushy and greedy, but not exactly the dominating type in the same sense that I had discovered I was. Whatever she was must have worked, however, because Marie was already topless and roughly forcing Susan's mouth to her small tits when I returned from making a drink. I dropped down onto my couch to watch the show, and Marie lifted Susan's dress up to her shoulders to reveal the wonderfully naked body beneath it. "Naughty girl," Marie laughed. "You forgot your underthings." She tried to reach down to Susan's pussy, but her hand was lightly shoved away. "She not allowed to cum," I explained from my seat, and Marie laughed again. "Good," she said. "More for me." Marie fell back in a lounge chair and pulled Susan with her. When they landed, she shoved Susan's head down to her crotch. Susan quickly unbuttoned Marie's tight jeans and then started for the zipper, but Marie stopped her. "Use your teeth," she said. I watched, mesmerized, as Susan slowly gripped the tiny piece of metal in her mouth and pulled it down. When that was done, she helped Marie wiggle her slender legs out of the painted-on pants. Marie immediately threw her legs apart, giving a view of black lace panties that I assumed would match a bra already tossed across the room. She closed her eyes and leaned back, rubbing her hands all over Susan's bald head as she shoved it harder against her cunt. Susan shifted herself that I had a perfect of her ass as she tended to Marie, and I had to fight myself not to take my aching cock out of my pants. After Marie came the first time with a scream that made me nervous for my glass, she pushed her legs together and pulled them to her chest. Her dark asshole came into view, and Susan didn't need to be told what to do. "Lick it, baby," Marie said anyway, although Susan's tongue was already buried in the tight opening. Susan grabbed her cheeks to spread them apart, and Marie reached down and starting rubbing her own clit with one hand while the other harshly slapped the back of Susan's head. "Deeper!" Marie was yelling. "Come on, more! More!" Marie dug her fingers into Susan's scalp and convulsed on the couch. The second orgasm was even bigger than the first, and for the first time in my life, I came dangerously close to shooting a load in my pants. When it was done, Marie leaned down and kissed Susan passionately, tasting her own juice in the process. Then she jumped up and started gathering her clothes. She was dressed before Susan or I had even knew what was happening, and she kissed Susan again and gave me a wink before skipping to the door. "Thanks guys," she said over her shoulder. "Let's do it again sometime." And then she was gone. Susan looked at me blankly, and I laughed. "Marie isn't really the cuddling type," I said, and Susan laughed too before quickly collecting herself. "Did I do good, sir?" she asked. "Apparently," I said, and then I nodded toward a clock on the wall. "But that's not the good news." Susan looked at the clock and then back again, not understanding. "It's after twelve," I said, and when she still didn't get it, "It's Sunday." -- We raced to the bedroom, and I was as naked as her before we were hallway there. I threw her on the bed, and she spread her legs wide open for me. I fell on top of her, barely having enough time to grab for a condom. I was only inside her for a minute, bucking and thrusting wildly, before she screamed in orgasm and dug her nails into my back. When she finally released me, I scrambled for the massager that I had left on the pillow. I leaned back with my hard rod still inside of her, and I placed the head of the wand over her pulsing clit. She took the handle and switched the device on, and I was instantly rewarded with a strong vibration running down my shaft and all the way to my balls. It was an unbelievable feeling, and I started thrusting again while Susan smashed the massager hard against her pussy. We came together the second time, and I felt so much cum shoot out of my cock that I was afraid the condom might burst. I pulled out, ripping off the rubber and then dribbling the contents over Susan's stunning tits. Even flat on her back, they were still pointing firmly upward, and she rubbed my cum into her skin and licked her fingers. I fell back on the bed, exhausted, and Susan leaned over me to lick the rest of her reward off of my still stiff dick before slowly coaxing me another raging erection. It went on like that for hours, and when the sun came up, we were still licking and playing with other. Finally, too tired to continue, we both collapsed onto the bed. After a while, Susan started to get up and take a pillow to the floor. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Stay," I said softly. "Thank you, sir," she said, and she fell to the pillow and started to close her eyes. "No, Susan" I said, propping myself up on an elbow and looking straight in her eyes. "I mean stay." Susan didn't seem to understand for a minute, but then a broad smile lit up her face. "Really?" she asked. "I mean, roaches?" I joked. "Doesn't sound like much of a place you've got now." Susan laughed. "I hate it," she said. I touched her face gently. "Then stay. Please." Tears welled in Susan's eyes, and she touched me back. "I'd love to, Brad," she breathed. "I'd love to." (Author's note: My humble and sincere appreciation to the fans of this series for your kind and useful feedback. While this part of Brad and Susan's story seems to have found a conclusion, I have enjoyed spending time with them too much to leave them for good. I'm sure that they will make their way back, at least in some part, in my future stories). The Shaved Slave: Susan's Story (Author's note: At the request of a fan, this is a companion to The Shaved Slave. It tells Susan's side of the events leading up to that series. Enjoy). My name is Susan, and I'm submissive. Oh, God. That's terrible. It sounds like a fucking twelve-step program, and I don't want to start with an impression that I think that there's something wrong with me. Actually, I'm happy to be how I am, but it took me a very long time to get that way. There are two things that you need to know about me right off. The first is that I'm shy, I mean like really shy, and the second is that I'm not skinny. I'm not fat either, I guess, but I'm packing some curves and not just on top. I'm not telling you this because I'm one of those girls who runs for the latest diet fad every time that the scale breaks three digits. I hit that mark a long time ago. I'm telling you this because I'm sure that the two things you need to know are related to one another. I work out, and I eat mostly right, but I could never get past my appearance long enough to come out my shell. And that's a problem, because there are actually three things that you need to know about me. The third is that I am constantly and insatiably horny. Twenty-four hours a day I've got nothing but sex on my mind. If I've got a free moment of time and idle hands, then you can bet that one of those hands will be down my pants. I even carry extra underwear, and more often than not, I come home with them soaking wet in a baggie. It's that last part more than anything that always had me thinking of myself as a freak. Women just aren't supposed to be like that. But this isn't a story about how I feel bad for myself. It's a story about how I got over it. -- Some people complain that they live in towns that have more cows than people. Mine doesn't have that problem, but I'm pretty sure that it does have more bars than people. I stayed away from those places for the most part - a few short experiments were enough to dispel the myth that alcohol overcomes apprehension - until I happened to be dating a guy who apparently lived at one. That might seem like an odd match for me, but pickings are slim around here even for the girls who have men falling over them, which I don't. And besides, nobody was really a good match for me then; at least not yet. The problem is sex, just in case you hadn't already guessed. Most guys probably think that a partner who never stops asking for it would be a dream come true, but then they can't actually handle her when she shows up. On top of that, I don't want to ask for it. I want to be told when to give it. It's not that I need to be fucked a dozen times a day, although it would be nice, but I do need to be kept on the edge and told what to do. It's just not the same when I have to initiate, and Mark couldn't get that. But he wasn't completely useless, as it turned out, because he did introduce me to the bar. I really didn't think that I was going to like it, but other than being stuck there with Mark, I actually did. It was a nice place by my town's standards, and the people were friendly enough. Actually, the people were very friendly. There weren't orgies breaking out on the table or anything like that, but sex hung in the air like the afterglow of fireworks, and I got the impression that untangling the web of who had slept with whom among the crowd of regulars would be an exercise that might take a calculator and a room covered in whiteboards. So even after Mark kicked me to the side to make way for the town whore - and that's saying something in this town - I stayed and became a regular myself. I don't think that I was ever part of the most inner circle. I certainly wasn't invited to the any of the threesomes and more that I was pretty sure were happening, and I wouldn't have gone if I had been. I didn't go to the bar for that, and although I eventually made some friends there, I didn't go for them either. I went for Brad. I don't know how or why, but somehow I had a feeling that he would be the one to take control of me and finally let me be what I knew I was. He wasn't as shy or as quiet as I was, but he wasn't the annoying extrovert that most of our friends were either. And he was hot; the well-built and rugged hot-without-trying-to-be-hot sort of hot that constantly had me heading to bathroom to wipe the wetness from my pussy and let my fingers linger for a while before I came back out. He even had a beard that he kept nicely trimmed; not like the trendy caveman beards on hipsters who wear ski caps in the summer while they're bitching about global warming. Brad was every bit a man, he was lovely, and he had absolutely no interest in me whatsoever. But I'm a patient girl, and I waited. Of course, patience has its limits even in a girl like me, and I wasn't exactly chaste in the meantime. All of those trysts ended in disaster, not that there were really that many, but it was the last that stung the most. His name was - fuck it; his name isn't important - but I was with him long enough to be stupid and tell him about my desires. I should have known that any guy who actually needed to be told wasn't going to be the one to carry them out with. "I thought you were normal, not some fucking freak!" was the last thing that he said on the way out of my bedroom. I can say good riddance now, but at the time, it screwed me up pretty good. So I set out to be normal. I even tried to quit masturbating, which lasted about a week. When I couldn't take it anymore, I came back in style. In spite of my horny nature, it takes a lot of effort to get me off, even using my secret weapon. (It's one of those plug-in wand massagers that no woman on Earth actually uses for sore muscles). But that night I came twice in as many minutes with the help of my favorite Web site; one that specializes in maids getting spanked and fucked by their bosses. The video that did it for me was a little unusual for the site, because the maid had a completely shaved head. She was trying to clean some high-end stainless steel and granite kitchen, but a housewife apparently unsatisfied with the job was slapping the maid's round ass with a nice selection of kitchen tools and then shoving the handles in both of the maid's eager holes. The kitchen thing is a cliché, I know, but it's one of my favorite clichés. Even so, it was the bald maid that really got me off. I had always thought of that as a look for incredibly strong women, and something about a woman like that giving in to her submissive sexual desires had me playing until I felt like I was sitting on a sponge instead of an office chair. And that was when it hit me. Why the fuck was I beating myself up for not being someone else's idea of 'normal?' Here I was trying to look boring so that I could get a man, but I didn't want a boring man. Worse than that, the type of man that I did want was never going to be interested in a boring girl to begin with. I was amazed that it took so many times getting dumped to figure out how incredibly stupid that whole plan was. Maybe it was the video, or maybe it was just the moment; I don't know. But it was clearly time for a change. -- If bars are the most prevalent businesses around here, then all-night drug stores run a close second. There's probably a relationship there, an once I made up mind what I was going to do, I didn't even bother to clean up before I headed out to the nearest one. Just to make a point to myself, I didn't bother putting my panties back on either. I did, however, put on my shortest skirt; and as I stood in the hair products aisle considering the selection, I could feel a trickle of moisture running slowly down my thigh. I was sure that anyone who got close enough would be able to smell it, and that just got me even hotter. There were a lot of choices for some reason, which I hadn't expected, but I figured that the job I was going to do didn't need any of the fancy accessories. I grabbed the simplest one and then stopped at the liquor aisle for a nice bottle of wine to go with it. I'm pretty sure that merlot is the proper choice for rushed decisions with lasting consequences, but the clerk didn't really look like a wine expert, so I didn't ask. I couldn't help rubbing myself again while driving home, and although I rarely go without underwear for obvious reasons, the convenience of it had me rethinking that policy. When I finally got to my building, I nearly ran to my apartment. I had to force myself to slow down long enough to pour the wine and enjoy the experience, and more than anything, I wished that I had a man who would make me prolong the tortuous anticipation. Once in the bathroom, I stripped out of my shirt and bra. It had nothing to do with not wanting to get hair on them, by the way. There are a lot of things about my body that I wasn't happy with back then, but even I always knew that I have some seriously fantastic tits. They're perky and firm, way more so than my D cup should allow, and the mirror in my bathroom was intentionally hung at the perfect height for me to admire them whenever I was in front of the sink. On this occasion, a few tugs and pinches to harden my nipples seemed like the right thing to do as well. I pulled my new hair clippers out of the drug store bag and rummaged for a pair of scissors to cut them out of the stupid plastic packaging. But after reading the directions - don't laugh; I work in tech support and have taken way too many calls from people who obviously didn't even open the manual - I realized that I still had no idea how to go about this. My hair is thick and well past my shoulders, and so just going at it with the clippers didn't seem like a great idea. I picked up the scissors instead, and before I had a chance to stop myself, I grabbed a thick bunch of hair in my fist and chopped it off. Part of me had been worried that I wouldn't be able to do it or that the experience would be too traumatic. But after the first plunge, it was actually a lot of fun. Before long, I was staring at myself with a jagged and spiky crew cut. In a weird way, it looked sort of cool. But I didn't waste any thoughts on stopping there, and I was almost giddy as I turned on the clippers and took the first long strip of hair from the top of my head. It turned out to be harder than I thought it would be to get every hair, but I ended up with a passable job. When I finished and put the clippers down, I was actually surprised to see the reflection staring back at me. It wasn't because the woman in it was shocking or strange; it was because she was beautiful. Somehow the curve of my head actually enhanced my face perfectly, and before I realized I was doing it, I stepped back to see how my new look suited the rest of my body. For the first time that I can ever remember, I was pleased with what I saw. This was beyond any doubt the look for me, and I had a sudden idea that I would have never considered before. -- I live in a building that must have been built in the 1980s, because it still has all of the touches from that decade including full-length mirrors on the folding closet doors. With the relationship that I used to have with my body, I had put over-the-door hooks on every panel and kept the mirrors covered with as many clothes as would fit. But it took only a second to toss them all out of the way. I spent a while staring at my full body and running my hands over my curves before pulling my office chair over and facing it toward the mirror. I had never done anything like this before, and I was almost breathless as I lowered myself into the chair and slowly lifted my legs to rest my feet high and wide apart on the mirrors. I started slowly, rubbing my tits with one hand while the other explored the sensation of the stubble on my head, but it wasn't long before my hands found their way below my waste and slowly spread my lips apart. I've seen a lot of pussy in porn, of course, but I had never really examined how mine compared. As it turned out, mine compared quite nicely. I spent a long time admiring my plump outer lips, sensitive and swollen clit, and pouting pink hole just begging for my fingers. I thought about getting my massager again, but I couldn't pull myself away from the view. The large vibrating head of the toy would have blocked my pussy anyway, and I wanted to see every delicate fold of skin and drop of sweet juice while I played. Even as aroused as I was, I knew that it was going to take a long time to cum with just my fingers, but I made it last longer still by picturing Brad standing over me and stroking a wonderfully thick cock. He was letting me build up to near climax and then ordering me stop, and I obeyed each time. It must have been half an hour before my fantasy Brad finally let me cum, and when he did, I was thrashing so hard that I thought I might kick the closet doors in. In a last bit of brave naughtiness, I locked eyes with my reflection right at the height of my orgasm. As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, the weight of what I had just done started to sink in. Not surprisingly, my first thought was what Brad would think. But I wasn't really worried. I was myself now, and somewhere out there was someone who would be as infatuated with my new look as I was and would realize what it meant. Even then, even knowing how tangled my emotions were, I knew that it would be him. It was always going to be him.