5 comments/ 45918 views/ 5 favorites Seen at a Mall: An Allegory of Love By: TRCIII Usual disclaimer: Story depicts scenes of STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT, NUDITY, BONDAGE, NON-CONSENSUAL SEX, HUMILIATION, ABDUCTION, SHAVING, and other things I may have forgotten. Don't like these things? Exercise your rights to NOT READ THEM! For the rest of you, enjoy. * May 1995 It was nearly mall closing time, and I had my "victim du jour" in sight. A luscious wench she was, too; the requisite long, plush, red locks of course, in this case bound loosely by a cloth fillet, but also a rounded fullness of body, not angular like so many of the others. (Why ARE so many redheads waaaaay too skinny? Choice or heredity? But, I digress...) She was older than many of the others, too, a woman of "that certain age", somewhere between 30 and 50, but could be anywhere along that spectrum. Old enough to know what she wants, and confident enough to be sure she can get it. Ripe. Yes, that's the word...she was fully ripened. This one might provide more than an evening's amusement, despite the dangers of keeping the trophy longer than necessary before "throwing them back." The light was catching the flaming highlights of her hair, bouncing freely just above her buttocks, dazzling me where I stood--well back from her sight, but not far enough to escape being bewitched. I was like a moth caught by the light of the candle, entranced by that fiery mane. She appeared to be almost finished shopping, so my time for contemplative admiration was growing short. Soon, I must make THE decision, as I had so many times before. But tonight, there was really no decision to make; this one must be mine, no matter the risk, no matter the cost. She was wearing an LBD (Little Black Dress) and spike heels, so she would be easier prey than many, but I mustn't grow overconfident, just the same; complications could always arise at the last moment, no matter how ripe for plucking the fruit might appear. Now was the moment. She was headed for her car, in the nearly deserted lot. Why do women insist on fumbling with their keys on the way, not seeing their surroundings, not seeing the DANGER waiting in the shadows? As she stopped, next to her car, still fumbling, still searching for something she would now no longer need, I dashed from my sanctuary into the semi-darkness between our vehicles--she never even heard me. I slapped her purse straight up into the air, much higher than her head, en route to bending down towards her knees. As she instinctively raised her arms up to catch the fleeing bag, I followed her arms with my own--with a handful of dress and slip hems clutched tightly in my grasp! Her arms and head were now entangled in her own clothing, and while she struggled, still not realizing fully what was happening, I yanked her panties and hose around her ankles, entangling her feet as well. Predictably, she began to scream at this point, but it was much too late for her, even though her noise was only mildly muffled by the dress in front of her face. I caught her as she began to tumble forward, still squirming inside her tight garments, opened the van door, and redirected her final fall to the inside of my vehicle, parked right next to hers, awaiting her return. I quickly shackled her wrists and ankles with the waiting restraints attached inside the door frames, slammed the door on her frenzied shouting, and casually strolled around to the driver's side door, scooping her purse and most of her belongings as I went. Looking around, I saw no witness to my act. Standing next to the van, outside the driver's door, I could barely hear her screaming. Further away, there would be no sound at all. She was mine. I was, as usual, shaking from the adrenaline rush of another successful capture, but not so badly that I couldn't finish the job after opening the door and sliding quickly into the front seat between screams. I quickly flicked open my butterfly knife for the coup de grace--slicing open the front of her bra and the portion of her dress still encumbering her breasts to bare her entire torso to my gaze, turgid nipples and fluffy, copper bush. I then turned the car key already in the slot to begin our escape. Total time elapsed: 47 seconds. Keeping my voice low, so she would have to stop screaming to hear me, I explained the situation to my latest toy while leaving the parking lot, and then the city. She began crying, then threatening, then pleading, in between gasps and fits of struggling, but in the end, she continued to listen as I explained her fate. I assured her, above all, that she would live, and in time, be released, but that she was mine for at least a short time, and there was really nothing she could do about it. In a city of 1.3 million, people disappeared every day, and police were much too busy to enjoin a serious manhunt. How bearable she made the time spent with me was totally up to her...I was a strict master, but not cruel, and she would be punished only as necessary. She would undoubtedly remember her time with me for the remainder of her days, and unfortunately, she would almost certainly be emotionally marked by this violation. But no permanent physical damage would come to her because of my ownership. She was mine to do with as I saw fit, and no amount of screaming or struggling would change that simple fact. Did she understand? I reached over the seat and trailed a finger down her midline, from under her chin to the top of her bush, to emphasize her position. She understood, as I knew she would; she was intelligent as well as beautiful. And so the rest of the trip was spent in silence. When we arrived at the cabin, I checked to make sure all was in readiness as I had left it, that nothing had been disturbed. I came back for her in the van, and attached the running lines to the restraints on her wrists before releasing the restraints from the interior walls and floor. I kept the guide lines taut to keep her from falling out of the van onto the ground, and bruising that alabaster flesh. She shuddered and tried to shrink from my touch as I continued to slide her out of the back, but there was really nowhere for her to go, with half her body still on the van floor, and the rope continuing to pull her out the door like a baby being birthed. When I had guided her fully out and into a standing position with her arms now secured to two tree branches overhead, I tied off the guide line around the tree, well out of her reach, and stepped back to really survey my prize for the first time since her capture. Her breasts were much fuller than the restrictive clothing had originally let on, and they were held almost taut by the position she was bound in, with her arms overhead. In the glare from the harsh spotlights, her skin seemed almost luminescently pale, especially in her untanned areas. Her hair was long enough that even though her face and arms were still covered by the remains of her dress, some still fell from that upper opening, between her bound arms, to cascade over the hem of the slip and frock still binding her. The fluffy curls at her nether opening were delightfully thick, with golden highlights amidst the flame. And they were my first order of business, once I finished binding her... I attached two more ropes to my victim, one to each leg, and tightened them in place before cutting away her pantyhose, and removing her heels. After tossing those useless remnants aside, I further widened her stance and tied those guide ropes off at the bases of the trees. She was now almost free of clothing, but I needed to blindfold her before freeing her from that last tattered bit of restriction. I stepped behind her, reached under the opening I had earlier cut to free her bra, and split the dress and slip the rest of the way up her arms, allowing it, and her hair, to fall around body. The fillet was almost useless now, having nearly come off in her struggles, and I removed it the rest of the way, to leave her hair totally unbound. She began struggling anew, and twisting to see me behind her. I quickly smacked both her asscheeks, hard, and yanked her hair back enough to cause her to look straight upwards, though she couldn't have turned far enough to see any part of me, in any case. "You don't want to see who I am. I promise you. If you see me, I can't let you leave. Think about that whenever you get that urge again." And so saying, I slipped the blindfold over her head, and settled it into place on her eyes. The reddening prints of my hand stood out in stark contrast to her lily cheeks, and I continued circling her now-completely-nude form, to finish my appraisal of my catch. She spoke, in a quavering voice, just this side of panic, "What do you want? What are you going to do to me? What..." Any further questions were postponed by my introducing a bit gag into her mouth, reducing her to unintelligibility. As I walked over to the video camera on a nearby tripod, pre-focused on my victim, I spoke to her again while zooming in for a brief close-up of her bush. "You'll be with me for some time, so I'll answer a few questions, up front, but understand that in the future, such unwelcome and inappropriate blathering may get you punished. That bit is not to keep you from screaming--I assure you, when I eventually remove it, you may scream all you wish, and no one is around to hear for many miles. "First, what I wanted, I now have--you, bound naked before me, gagged and blindfolded, vulnerable to anything I desire from you. What am I going to do to you? Well, again, I'm in a position to do anything I want at the moment, but what I want to do right now is remove that patch of fur perched so prettily above your slit. Have you ever had your pussy shaved bald before? Shake or nod your head to respond." She shook her head vehemently no, tossing her hair about wildly, and I wasn't sure how much was negative response, and how much was reaction to my disclosure of intent. I was very glad I was capturing all of this on film--she was incredibly photogenic at moments like that one. After checking the final focus to be sure I was again viewing all of her, I walked again to where she stood. "Good, a virgin to the blade. But first, I feel I owe you something. I see a wedding ring on your finger, so I assume you have a husband, and further, that if he's not a complete idiot, he eats you regularly. But I would guess that the last time he did so, neither of you suspected that it would be the last time he would be doing so for a while with this bush covering you here. "So, to allow you to cum one final time with fur--knowing that to be the case--I'm going to dine between your thighs first." And so saying, I sat down on the ground between her widespread legs and prepared to feast on her fuzzy treasure, trying to avoid blocking the shot as much as was possible. The width of her stance already had her lips parted slightly, so it was hardly necessary to spread them further with my fingers to allow my tongue entrance, but I did so anyway, delighting in the feel of her, even covered with hair as she was. She was one of those women who allowed her bush to run rampant, a wild, furry creature that extended up her belly and--slightly--down her thighs, in florid profusion, never trimming it or giving it check. No butt-floss bikinis for this gal; no punk-Mohawk-pubic-stripe! It was obvious to me from the first glimpse in the parking lot, that this abundant crop had never been harvested before, and that she was probably quite proud of her lavish pelt. A pity. Soon she would have nothing remaining to be proud of. I plunged my nose into the thicket, as I plunged my tongue into her moist crevice, setting off a new paroxysm of head shaking and struggling, but to no avail. She had obviously delicately perfumed her bush, and I drank in the aroma, snuffling my nose through her pubes to garner every bit of scent I could release. Her natural scent combined deliciously with this fragrance (Was it Chanel?) and I spent a few moments inhaling all of it I could, while she struggled to avoid my touch. Then, I shifted my grip to her asscheeks, tilting her pelvis forward to make her more easily accessible to my lingual predations. This first taste of my capture always sets me afire, and I ravenously plundered her folds with lips and tongue, licking and nibbling, slurping and swallowing, burrowing my entire being into that small space between her tender lips. After the frenzy of the moment passed, I slowly converted to a more methodical approach to her fulfillment, suckling her clit between my lips and laving it gently with my tongue, with occasional forays back between her love lips to scoop out the dew forming from my efforts. And make no mistake, my ministrations were producing the desired results. While her brain may have been rebelling at the "atrocity" awaiting her, her pussy was responding as pussies do to petting and attention--with arched back and eager availability to further caresses. Only this pussy GAVE cream with tongue-lapping, instead of getting it! She was delicious, and her juices flowed copiously long before the finale. Toward the last I could barely keep up with the gushing, and when the dam burst I was awash in the taste of her, my face and beard drenched with her spending. Pausing only a moment for her to catch her breath, I took full advantage of her predicament by continuing to tongue her oversensitive clit, which only intensified the frenzy of her struggles. After a few minutes of wild thrashing, as I continued to push her button, her ass began to buck again, within the confines allowed by the ropes, and shortly she was cumming again. Then, a third time...and a fourth, and fifth, after which, she hung limply in the ropes. A portion of her escaped tresses partially curtaining her lush body, a sheen of sweat covering her brow and breasts despite the coolness of the night. She was totally exhausted from her struggles and multiple orgasms, much more pliable, and still tremendously sensitive. Now the slightest touch of my tongue or fingers produced more unconstrained activity, but with much less vigor to be dredged up for the response. "You'll be glad I did that later, so you won't be as tempted to continue your struggles, and accidentally cause me to cut you with the razor I'm about to use on you. Now, to the matter at hand, or more accurately, at the juncture of your thighs." I went over to the worktable next to the trees, where I kept the tools of my trade. Over a Coleman stove, I had a small pot of water warming, next to it some battery-powered clippers and a mug containing some shaving soap and a shaving brush. And, of course, next to them all lay the apple of my eye, my companion, the extension of my will--my razor-closed, sleeping for the moment, but soon to wake, to eat of his favorite meal. I opened him now, light glinting off the shining length of him, waking him to join me in the feast. We sang our song together, the gliding, rollicking song of sharpness, as I stroked him briskly along the strop, the prelude to our meal. We shared our joyous communion of preparation until he seemed to cut the very air with his movement. Enough! He and I were ready, and I set him down as I bent to my menial tasks, mixing the soap and water, whipping up the creamy foam which is the only condiment we crave on our food. Then, grabbing a fresh towel from the overhead branch, I brought the low tray with everything I needed, and sat once again before the altar at which we would worship. I spoke to my capture as you would to calm a nervous filly. "Before I begin in earnest, there is always a minor preparation, to allow the blade free access to the flesh. Though it certainly doesn't require it, I admit I take a certain satisfaction in the act, and of course, I prize the trophy that is the result." I attached the pube-catcher between her knees, and without further delay, flipped the switch on the electric clippers, and ran them slowly down the center of her pubic thatch, top to bottom, leaving a swath of barely-visible stubble in the wake. The cellophane centerpiece of my simple invention, suspended like a hammock beneath her pussy, caught each precious bit of fur as it cascaded from her mound, quickly accumulating a sizable sprinkling of flaming red tufts with each passing stripe of the clippers. At the first sound of the instrument buzzing into life, her head had jerked up, and her hips, still weary from her earlier frantic bucking, tried futilely for a few moments to avoid the clippers' caress. But patience, preparation and her utter fatigue won out, and her pubes soon became the latest addition to my collection. With the last trip across her mons complete, I stepped back and over to my video camera. I zoomed in until the only thing visible in the viewer was the few, barren square-inches of skin, previously invisible, and the slippery slit beneath. I stepped back to her, careful not to block the shot at any time, and finished the exploration. Her lush forest had been reduced to a putting green, and I stroked the fuzzy remnant, tickling my fingertips with the sad remains of her pussy's former glory. My own close-cropped beard was now a profuse growth in comparison, and I knelt to rub my facial fur across her nearly-denuded pudenda for a few moments, savoring the contrast of textures, setting off another round of anguished, but pointless, rebellion. The warm comfort of her pussy rubbing against my bearded face was worth the extra effort it took while she thrashed futilely, unable to prevent it. When I was through, I detached the catcher, and after carefully sealing the cellophane to avoid losing a single strand of my prize, gave a final kiss to her stubbled mound, and sat back down to my task. When I looked back up again from the tasks at hand, I saw her head hung down to her chest in utter dejection. She knew, now, that I had acquired the first of my prizes, and that even should she somehow escape, part of her would always remain with me. The very warm towels (not hot! I had no wish to burn those sensitive areas, now so delightfully vulnerable!) were still a shock to her, and caused an involuntary start, but after the initial contact, no further response. The lathering that followed shortly was anti-climactic, in every sense of the word, and accomplished in utter silence, even when the bristles from the brush played over her turgid clit, and poked between her swollen lips. I got up to widen the shot of the camera to again include all of her, then returned to sit once more between her knees. The fluffy mockery of shaving lather, masquerading as her pubes in their absence, brought a rueful smile to my face. She appeared almost as she had before, but where there had been a fiery mane of copper glory, now existed a white snowscape. Where there had been tangled curls now rolled flowing waves of foam. If she lived long enough, her mound might one day be similar to this color again, in extreme old age. I'd like to see her re-grown crop of fleece then, but I would always have this more precious memory, foreshadowing that change. And if by some quirk of fate, I did see her pubes attached to her again, I'd only be compelled to remove them, as I just had. And I had hers to remember her by, regardless. I addressed her again, but her attitude still remained apathetic. Her head barely raised to acknowledge that she heard my speaking. It was usually this way with the very proud ones--much of their spunk disappears with their pubes. Again, a pity. But maybe this one would surprise me yet. In any case, my friend and I were ready to get to the real work of the evening. "Now we begin the final steps. I must caution you again, to remain still to avoid injury. I have very steady hands, but even so, I may not be able to anticipate your every gyration. The blade I am about to use is more than sharp; it is a razor, used in olden times for surgery as well as shaving. One ill-advised move and your clit may very well follow your pubes into my permanent possession. Remain still, and you will feel no discomfort whatsoever, just a silken caress, and the fresh, clean sensation of newborn flesh." Seen at a Mall: An Allegory of Love I pulled her body toward me, with a hand on her ass, jutting her pussy forward to meet the blade and decrease the chance of inadvertent injury on her part; by giving her pelvis no more room to move forward, she could only retreat from the blade's caress, and only if she gathered her strength to do so. The first smooth stroke cleared approximately a quarter of her mons in one swipe. The usual involuntary jerk away from the blade accompanied the touch, but she quickly recovered control. Very strong-willed, this one. I ran my tongue over the area uncovered, only partially to check for smoothness--I knew just how silken her mound would be--but really, to savor that first bared swatch of her. Virgin territory, uncharted waters. The touch of that slippery surface to my tongue shot through my brain like lightning, and I very nearly came from that first contact. I wanted to linger, but it was going to be a long night, and I had much more flesh to cherish. My friend and I continued to bare her to my gaze and tongue, removing each bit of stubble with careful precision, using two hands when necessary, but never needing to repeat a stroke. Between the lips was always the tricky part, when I could not steady her, and must stretch the skin in odd ways to fully denude the interior aspects of the labium, but my earlier preparations had done their work well. After the initial flinch from the touch of the blade, my guest did not startle or struggle anew, even when I continued the path between her legs to denude the inner surfaces of her asscheeks and her puckered asshole. Shortly, it was done, and after setting my friend aside--for the moment--I carefully toweled away any traces of lather, patting, not rubbing the tenderized flesh. She was pristine, baby bare. I knew that never again would she be as smooth as she was at this moment; eventually the skin would coarsen, as it did on legs and pits, with repeated shavings. Occasionally, sadly, there were shaving bumps, although not as often with the fairer-haired. Each pussy developed its own personality, once shorn of covering, reacting in different ways at different times, but careful maintenance usually minimized any problems. Ahhh, but this smoothness--this was a one-time moment. I had to restrain myself from ravenously attacking the vulnerable flesh. I carefully rubbed an aloe preparation into the newly-shaved surface, taking great care to reach each nook and cranny, neglecting no corner of what had previously been her tangled triangle. I soothed the roughened edge of her pussy's sensibilities, talking quietly to it; many people would do so to their plants or their pets, if they'd experienced trauma, and no one would look askance for a moment, but speak to a pussy--which gives so much more pleasure than either of those other possessions--and people think you've gone off, somehow. Go figure. When I was satisfied I had done as much as I could to ensure her--MY!--pussy would recover without mishap, I went back to the camera for a final, brief, closeup of her now-completely-bald pussy, and on the way back to my seat between her thighs, spoke to her again. "Now comes the moment many women, for whatever personal reasons they might have, never experience in their entire lives. That moment I'm about to give you, cherished by many women as one of their fondest memories, is their first orgasm with a shaved pussy. I've been told that the greater sensitivity generated by the loss of pubic fur--freshly lost--borders on the exquisite long before actual culmination. 'In other words, it ain't always the destination, sometimes it's the trip.' "But I'm afraid your enjoyment of the act may be marred by the circumstances surrounding this particular event, although I'll certainly be trying to distract you as thoroughly as I'm able from any morbid dwelling on such things. Here it is, your first shaven orgasm. I hope this moment is special to you. I know it is to me!" And so saying, I applied myself once again, with a single-minded devotion to her now-hairless hole. Her honey had never really stopped flowing, not once in the entire time elapsed since I'd begun her last tasting, with the knowledge it WOULD be her last--furred--tasting. But as my tongue traveled the barren skinscape, and delved freely into areas inaccessible before her depilation, the waterfall began afresh. I could see from the involuntary tremors and ripples in her flesh that, despite her apparent show of defeat and degradation, she was being brought to a fevered peak again, and in very short order. Before I knew it, her hips were bucking with renewed vigor, wildly tossing, as if to remove the source of irritation from their surface, this time accompanied by poorly-muffled attempts at shameless name calling, but my lingual grasp held firm, and my mouth and her naked essence were fused beyond such simple attempts at separation. I drew on her clit, sucking deeply at her core, and continued to do so until her spasms became less forceful, her breathing too ragged to allow for further attempts at abuse through her gag, her body limply spent. She had come ten times now, by my count--who really knew how many? If I asked her, would she say? I wouldn't, in her place. But then, as a male, I wouldn't need to--the evidence of my spending is incontrovertible; either I did or I didn't, there's no guessing involved. I removed my mouth from our joining. "Now, you have one last, admittedly slim, chance at avoiding further humiliations at my hands, tonight. I'm going to attempt to make you cum, one last time. My proposition is simple. Keep from cumming, avoid disgracing yourself by revealing your true slut nature, and in a few days or weeks when I release you, your hair leaves with you. Fail, and the remainder of your stay will find you bald above, as well as below." Her head snapped up as the words sank in. "Know that I'm going to be doing everything in my power to ensure the hair stays behind, a trophy won at the wars. That luscious mane is entirely too beautiful to remain attached to such a slut, who would come so often and so hard for a man she has never even seen. But knowing the consequences of such release may give you the extra strength you need to deny yourself. I'll begin in a few moments, but first I must speak with my friend, here, and when I'm done, I'll free your mouth from your gag, so you, too, may have your say." Her head had been shaking "No!" since the first intimation that I might take her locks, slowly at first--as if she couldn't believe I was even suggesting such an atrocity--then more and more frenziedly, until the hair in question was whipping wildly about her nude body, now shielding, now revealing. Accompanying this savage display was a high, keening moan emanating from behind her gag, and now, in the final moments of her realization that I did, indeed, intend to remove her glorious tresses, hot tears began to course from beneath the blindfold. Finally, she could sustain the wildness no longer, and her entire body shook with the depth of her pitiful sobbing. I watched this entire transition through the camera's viewfinder, almost in awe at the fury of it, then turned to my other tasks again. Although my friend argued that he was as sharp as ever, I reminded him that I never shaved anyone with a dull instrument, and I wasn't going to start now. He got sulky over the insinuation, but I soothed him with the strop, assuring him as we stroked that, though he would never be dull, there were times when only the finest edge would suffice, and this was one of those times. Further, only he was capable of that edge. Did I not choose him over those other, inferior blades? Was he not the brightest, most beautiful, and EASILY the sharpest blade? He cheered up, and again we sang to the rhythmic slap-slide of blade and strop, and when we were done, I knew this would be our crowning moment together. I turned to face the slave-slut. "Have you made your peace with yourself? Are you ready to fight your inner self, your true nature? Are you prepared to fight me with your entire being, and deny me my satisfaction? Are you, in short, ready to prevent yourself from cumming? "I'm going to undo your gag, and re-position the blindfold so it does not bind your hair in any way, but be warned, you will have a limited amount of time to say what you will. I would caution you against wasting all of it with cursing and name-calling. I assure you I've heard it all before, and it would be so...common. You are in all other ways extraordinary--even your capacity for sluttishness surpasses the norm--so please don't lower yourself by reproducing the same tired maunderings of those who are obviously not your equals. But, your time is your own. Use it as you will." And so saying, I undid the clasp securing the gag in place and, with a flourish, whipped it free from her head. She spent a few moments working her jaws, to release the tension, not really believing it was gone. Then--oh, so predictably- "You BASTARD! How COULD you? Who do you think you are? What gives you the RIGHT!!?!! I'll KILL you for what you've already done--don't even THINK about touching the REST of my hair! This isn't some kind of joke, here! I've been growing this hair for you since my 25th birthday! Let me LOOSE!!!" I'd thought she would be more worn down by now, but the animal fury she released over the next three-and-a-1/2 minutes was certainly NOT common! The vituperation and invective she heaped on me, my ancestry, my progeny and all my kin were unequaled by any I've ever experienced! Even now, reviewing the tapes of the episode gives me chills and leaves me prone to nightmares. Even though I am always most careful with my ropes and tackle, I began to fear for their stability. Redheads! Never underestimate them! I almost began to have doubts about the act I was about to undertake. But I knew I was right to do what I did. I couldn't have been mistaken about the signals I'd received. With renewed resolve--after the prescribed time, when I was certain she wasn't going to say anything constructive--I again slipped the bit back in her mouth, this time securing it under her hair, next to the blindfold. She attempted a final furious volley of thrashing to prevent my securing it--actually biting at it, along with my fingers--and all of this accompanied by a bestial scream of rage and frustration that shook me to my core. Finally, she was secure again, and she hung there, panting, sweating but still obviously with a tremendous reserve of fight left in her. That would only serve to make the ultimate victory--and her ultimate defeat--that much more delicious, I told myself. Although still a little shaken, I tried to sound nonchalant as I continued. "Brava! Very exciting! Very...creative! But, in the end, futile. And a little annoying. I'd hoped we could discuss these matters at length, maybe come to some understanding. But now, I'll admit, you've pissed me off a little. "So, not only WILL you cum for me--once again, you savage slut--but when I'm through licking that bald little pussy, I'm going to fuck you and make you cum once again, WHILE I TAKE YOUR HAIR!! Do you understand? No shred of hair OR dignity will possibly be left you if you cum on my cock while I strip you of your crowning glory. "You'll be revealed--TOTALLY revealed, I might add!!--as the perverted, debased, wicked deviant you are--a whore, a slave, a toy, a SLUT, whose pussy rules her life, a cum-hungry cock-hound. You've had your say, and I hope you enjoyed it, but the final victory will be mine, and in mere moments. In fact, I'll truly show you for the bitch-in-heat you are--I'll raise the stakes. I'm betting you won't last ten minutes. Just ten little minutes of denial of your dripping pussy, five minutes without a spasm showing your weakness, and you go free, tonight, hair intact. But if you lose, slave, ohhhh, if you lose..." I paused to savor the vision I was experiencing. "Your weeks of hell begin tonight with me cumming on your shaven head. I can hardly wait to see that jism dripping down between your eyes. Are you ready, slave?" I could swear she was looking right through the blindfold at me, and that a grin tightened the corners of her mouth around her gag. Again, that chill passed over me, like a goose on my grave. I shook it off, and plopped down in front of her naked puss, ready for the final battle. I glanced at my watch. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to trust me on this, slut, but I've got 12:37. At 12:40 exactly, the attack on your drooling, shaven cunt begins, and if at 12:50 you still haven't cum in my mouth--yet again--you'll be on your way by 1:00. "But you know, I can't help but notice that, despite all you've endured, all you've SAID, this hot little pussy is still busy creaming away. You're drenched almost to your knees down here, you know?? You slaves are all alike... you try to deny what you are, but here's the truth of it." I scooped up a fingerful of cunt cream from her thigh and popped it in my mouth. "Mmmmm, mmmmm, good! Yep! That's the real thing--slut juice. Cumming your buns off, while I abuse and torture you. Here I am, possibly some crazed lunatic, I stalk you, sneak up on you in a parking lot, strip you naked next to your own car. I kidnap you, tie you up, drag you into the woods where I could possibly be planning to slit you 'from guggle to zatch', as it were, and they'd never even find the body. And here you are, spewing pussy juice with every touch of my tongue to your clit." I knew I was warming her up, sparking her fantasies, causing her hips to undulate juuuust the slightest, and maybe this was a trifle unfair, under the circumstances, but c'est la guerre! 'All's fair...' as they say. "Almost time. Almost time for the final 'assault' on this smooth, delicious, hot little pussy, leaking cream and practically wriggling with lust. Even knowing the cost, I can see you've already lost this battle. I can almost see her spasming a little, like she's winking at me. You've been practicing your Kegel's, I gather. What a hot, wicked little slut you are!! Your body betrays you completely, now; your nipples already crinkling to hardness in preparation of another cum. This is going to be easier than I'd dreamed! Here we go, into the final countdown...10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...ONE!" I applied myself with a vengeance. To her credit, she tried everything I'd ever seen attempted by any of the others, and one new maneuver toward the last that almost broke my nose on her pelvic bone, after lulling me into complacency, but in the end, nine minutes, three seconds after I'd begun, she was mine. Her pussy was mine, her hair was mine, her cum was mine. Her orgasm was incredible, awesome to behold. I've never seen her cum so hard. But I hoped to see it again, in just a few moments, when she did it again on my cock, with her hair raining down around us. I sucked and licked, lapped and lingered, and when she finally wound down and I slowly released my oral hold on her clit with a final quick flick of the tongue, I knew she was mine. She would never be the same for anyone else again, not now. I was going to keep this one forever. I couldn't bear to even THINK of her belonging to anyone else, she was so deliciously debased, so beautiful and decadent. And now she was all mine. I paused a moment to savor the victory, to allow her to languish in the afterglow, to drink in the beauty of her, as she hung there in the ropes. Then I began to adjust her position with the pulleys, until after a few moments, she was now bent over, vulnerably off-balance, almost on tiptoe, her globular ass jutting out to the rear, her breasts dangling from her chest like ripe pears, her hair hanging down on each side of her back but hiding nothing. Her beautiful, silken hair, so plush and exquisite. MY hair, all mine, to harvest as I pleased. The time had come. I adjusted the rubber sheet over the ground under her feet, to catch the hair as it fell, and I began circling behind my new possession while undoing my pants. "Well, slave. I see you didn't make it. A pity, too. But only to be expected, considering what a slut you are. But now, it's time to pay the piper, time to put away childish things and start your new life as my slave. Forever and ever, amen. Are you listening to me, slave? I've decided I'm going to keep you. I can't continue to go through all this trouble, searching for just the right victims, hiding, ducking, sneaking, stalking. It's getting too dangerous out there. I'm going to retire, and you, my delightful darling, YOU will be my retirement pay. Do you understand? I'm keeping you! And I'm keeping you BALD!" With the final word, I simultaneously plunged my rampant cock into her shaven hole from behind--she was so wet and open I could have lobbed a softball into her cunt from 10 paces--and yanking back on her hair, I made the first pass through her hair with...a brush. I could feel her naked pussy spasming around my dick, from the shock of the entrance, and her overall excitement. I continued to fuck her, not too vigorously, since I knew I wouldn't last long, and brushed her hair at the same time. I brushed it till it shone, and fucked her until she was again bucking and on the verge of another cum, then backed out. She moaned in frustration, and possibly relief, for her hair was still with her. But not for long. I bound her tresses together in one thick, long, glorious ponytail, trying to tuck in any spare hairs flying about, until I was sure I had captured all of it in the one magnificent bunch. I stepped behind her, again, holding the treasure in my hands as I went. I pulled it backward and plunged into her again, setting off a new spasm of activity, but I moved my hips with hers to prevent her--and my--premature release. I released her gag, and her blindfold. I clicked on the clippers. She began to babble incoherently, as I tugged her head back toward me, increasing the tempo of my thrusts into her vulnerable cunt. I placed the clippers on her forehead, and she began to moan, and buck, and then she was cumming, and I began the first careful stripe back onto her scalp. I worked all along the fringes of the front, as she spasmed on my dick, trying to milk it dry, and the ponytail began to come away from her head. She cried out in simultaneous anguish and pleasure, and began to cum again, with the humiliation and the pleasure, and I finished peeling her hair away back to her ears and over the top of the crown. Half done, and her head was drooping forward, and she was still cumming, again and again, it seemed like forever, but was probably only 30 seconds. Another few final passes, and the ponytail came free in my hand, and her clippered head hung forward completely, abject, defeated. ------------------------------ And then she came a final time, as I waved the hair in front of her face, and her stubbled head came back again, and I plunged deep into her for a final time myself, and she began crying out, "Lover, what have we done? Oh, lover, you bastard, oh master, my master, I love you!!" and I screamed out, "Happy 40th Birthday, slave! I love you!!!" and began pumping her full of my cum, and minutes later, when we'd regained our senses, I began to release her from the bonds, and laid her down on the soft grass and began to cuddle her as she deserved. I repeated, a little more coherently, "Happy Birthday, lover, delicious slave. Did you enjoy it?" "Oh, MASTER! How could you? All those years you've hounded me to grow my hair, and now, this!" She rubbed her nubbly scalp. "Don't worry, I've already arranged to have it made into a wig, so no one will be able to tell anything's different, when you go back to work in a couple of weeks. But I gathered this has always been a fantasy of yours, hasn't it? To be kidnapped? Raped and "forced" into pleasure? Yeah, I know the fur and hair removal was always MY fantasy, but did you mind? Didn't you want your 40th to be something special? Something memorable?" Seen at a Mall: An Allegory of Love She laughed ruefully. "Well, it was that! You know I love you, and yes, I was hoping you'd catch my hints about something like this. I was starting to feel so old and unattractive, and now I know just how much trouble you're willing to go through to keep me interested in you." "I meant what I said, little slave. I'm keeping you. Forever. I've got this place up here in the hill country rented for a week, and the kids are all taken care of, and you and I are going to stay here, naked, and make love until we can't anymore. And if you're very good, I'll let you come home with me afterwards, instead of just keeping you here, naked and bald, and visiting you after work every day. I love you!" "I love you, too! I still can't believe you'd take my hair, though! You LOVED my long hair, Master!!" "Yeah, I was worried when you started with that tirade! GOD that was scary! You almost had me convinced you DIDN'T want me to continue! But for years, now, you've whined and complained, and continually wanted it cut shorter, and I always told you what the consequences would be if you cut it, even a little, slave, so you've finally got your wish! You let your hair grow as you wish, from now on, and I'll continue to take care of it--and you--whatever length you decide on!" You chuckled, "Well, this was pretty drastic, but I always suspected you weren't kidding, Master! Are you going to finish the job?" "Oh, yes, slave! But first, let's go inside! I want you again! And I still need to anoint your scalp with my next load, little baldy. But in deference to your comfort, we'll use the bed, this time, so we can fall asleep when we're done. I mean, you ARE getting old, now, and you need your beauty rest, right, slave?" "Asshole!" "BAD slave! You'll pay for that in the morning!" "Master!! I'm just being a playful slave!" "Luscious slut! I'll playfully beat your ASS in the morning!" "Master," she cooed. I doubted she'd actually feel the lash in the morning. And for the rest of the week, a Master and his delicious, SMOOTH slave lived in shaven, connubial bliss. And for the rest of their lives, as well. Well, until HIS 40th birthday...but that's another story --------------------------- Ending 2, the Scooby Doo ending (Consensuality revealed): And then she came a final time, as I waved the hair in front of her face, and her head came back again, and I plunged deep into her for a final time for myself, and she began crying out, "Lover, what have we done? Oh, lover, you bastard, oh God, I love you!!" and I screamed out, "Happy 40th Birthday, lover! I love you!!!" and began pumping her full of my cum. Minutes later, when we'd regained our senses, I began to release her from the bonds, and laid her down on the soft grass and began to cuddle her as she deserved. I repeated, a little more coherently, "Happy Birthday, lover. Did you enjoy it?" "You BASTARD! How could you? All those years you've hounded me to grow my hair, and now, this! My HAIR! How will I go to work? How will I show my face at church?" "Feel your head!" "What? What do you mean?" "Just what I said...feel your head!" Gingerly she reached a hand up to her skull...and found several inches of hair remaining!!! "I thought you wouldn't mind a short summer cut, for once in your life. And I knew if I was fucking you, you'd be a little too distracted to notice exactly what I was doing to your head...and so, I used the extra long attachment on the clippers. All you noticed was the missing weight of your hair, and the fact that the pull on your head was being released by clippers, which were touching your scalp. I've done a pretty rough job on it, but the hairdresser will be able to straighten it out and you'll have a short--but definitely attractive and stylish--'do' for the summer. I knew I could 'pull it off.'" She laughed ruefully. "Ha, ha, very funny! Well, you succeeded! I love you! I was hoping you'd catch my hints about a scene like this. I was starting to feel so old and unattractive, and now I know just how much trouble you're willing to go through to keep me interested in you. But then, when you said you were going to shave my head, I just went nuts! I couldn't believe you would do that to me!" "Well, if I'd just brought you out here, and only did things you wanted, where would the thrill have been? I had to make you at least "think" it was somebody having their way with you, or the scene wouldn't have had the same intensity. Anyway, I meant what I said, little 'slave.' I'm keeping you. Forever. Well, for this week, at least. "I've got this place up here in the hill country rented through next Sunday, and the kids are all taken care of, and you and I are going to stay here, naked, and make love until we can't anymore. And if you're very good, I'll let you come home with me afterwards, instead of just keeping you here, naked and clippered, and visiting you after work every day. You are too incredibly sexy for words; God, I love you!!" "I love you, too! Let's go inside! I want you again! And I'D still like you to anoint my hair with your next load--the protein will help it over its shock. But how about if we use the bed, this time?" "Deal, luscious slave slut!" "Asshole!" And for the rest of the week, a "master" and his delicious, SMOOTH "slave" lived in shorn, connubial bliss. And for the rest of their lives, as well. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ending Number 3: The dark side (Totally non-consensual--do not read this ending if you think it will offend you.) And then she came a final time, as I waved the hair in front of her face, and her stubbled head came back again, and I plunged deep into her for a final time myself, and she began crying out, "Bastard, BASTARD!!" and I screamed out, "You bitch! You sexy slave slut!" and after pumping her full of my cum, collapsed on top of her, as she hung there, shorn and defeated, in her ropes. Minutes later, when we'd regained our senses, I disengaged. She continued to hang there, bald head hanging down, weeping silently. After putting the blindfold back on her, I strode around to her front, and taking advantage of her defeated posture, began the task of removing the final bits of stubble from her scalp. After carefully lathering the entire area, a few swipes from my friend--while holding her head steady to offset the crying--and the deed was done. Her head glistened in the moonlight; but she was no longer the one for me. She'd shown her true colors, and regrettably, I was sickened by what she'd shown me. After hanging her pelt on the hook beside the others--it was certainly a worthy addition to my collection--I began the final preparations for her trip back to the capture site. I pulled up the pickup truck, transferred her belongings from the van into the front, and swapped her tie ropes one by one to their counterpart stanchions in the bed of the truck. After taking up the slack with the pulley installed in the truck, I began leading her up into the bed. A flurry of questions on her part prompted me to remember to gag her as we headed back to civilization. It was a long ride back for me, and I assume, a longer one for her, naked, hairless and violated as she was, under the tarp in the bed of my truck. When I released her, back at the initial scene of her capture, I left her nude, bound and still blindfolded, but with her purse nearby, and the means to escape in a few minutes when I was safely gone. As I drove away, watching her struggle in the rearview mirror, I reflected that it might be a while before I went hunting again. But, then again, maybe my luck would be better, next time...maybe the right one was out there, somewhere. Maybe... * Writer's Note: I considered a fourth possible ending, where the captive is kept at the "retreat" and subjugated further, until--after much humiliation and degradation, of course--she is a willing slave to her captor, and they live happily ever after... but the story was way too long as it was. The fifth ending my wife suggested--that she would be able to resist, not cum, and he would have to make good on his lost bet and have to release her, hair intact--I never considered. If anyone else wants to write that type of wimpy ending, feel free, but make sure no one confuses it with my other alternative endings. In my stories, like in life, the dominant wins. If there is enough interest in their further tales at "the little chateau in the piney wood", I may reconsider my decision on ending number four, but for now, this story has run its course. Hope you enjoyed it...you're certainly welcome to tell me why not, if you didn't. That is, after all, what free speech is REALLY all about.