Shearing the Sheep

"Kneel," He ordered.

I knelt in the center of the floor.

"Grasp the poles."

I took the cold steel poles, one in each hand and He secured my wrists to them, using the metal cuffs which dangled from them.

One of the first things He had done when I became His submissive was to have several additions made to the room in His house which had become where he kept me. The poles, which, when I knelt, kept my wrists just above my head, were one of those additions.

He stood and rummaged around in His box of goodies and came toward me carrying the biggest anal plug I had ever seen. He had never used this one before. It was tapered at the end, but it grew larger and larger, culminating in a bulbous end that I knew would tear right through me.

"This will remind you who is in charge." He slowly eased the unlubricated tip of the plug into my ass until it passed my sphincter, and then unceremoniously thrust the rest into my tight hole, twisting and turning it as it tore the tender flesh. I grunted against it, but it was no use.

"Now you must be punished," He said.

Only half an hour ago, I had been caught, red-handed, the evidence of my transgression still in my hands, with no where to hide it.

When I agreed to a life of full submissive, His first act was to dictate my daily life. I was to wear no undergarments, I was to dress each morning in whatever He laid at the foot of my bed, and I was to sleep with my hands bound together so that He was sure I would not pleasure myself while He slept. I never left the house and I remained ready to serve him whenever he demanded. It was much as we had agreed to when we met online.

The next thing He did was to restrict me from my most coveted possession---my hair. I had long, full golden locks that fell midway down my back in loose natural waves. It was beautiful and the source of much jealously when I lived in the outside world. By the end of the first week, He grew tired of my constant brushing and touching, and so He made me wear it in a tight bun at the base of my neck with no strands escaping the bobby pins that held it close. I was proud of my hair, it was my most beautiful trait, and giving it to Him was the ultimate sacrifice. I did it without question. That was my position.

I had done well, I wore it secured as He insisted, without fuss. On occasion He would let me wear it down, cascading over my shoulders, and on the most rarest of occasions, He would brush it for me as I sat naked on the bed as a source of foreplay. These nights pleased us both.

Tonight, when I was sure He was out, I had snuck into His bathroom, and in a moment of weakness, took the hairbrush from one of the drawers of His bathroom vanity. I stole back to my room and sat in the dark on my bed and brushed my hair until it shone and my scalp tingled. I had just placed the round end of the hairbrush against my clit, my hair covering my face, when He walked in.

Now I would be punished.

He moved a floor length mirror before me. "You will keep your eyes open the entire time and you will watch as your punishment is doled out. Understand?"

I answered, "Yes, Sir," my voice shaky.

The butt plug pulled at my skin and the wetness dripped down my thighs against my wishes.

He left again and didn't return for several agonizing minutes. When He returned, He carried with Him the largest pair of silver shears I had ever seen. They glinted in the harsh light of the bedroom.

I sucked in my breath as He held them against my cheek. "You must watch, or I will make it worse."

I trained my eyes on the mirror and tried to focus, to submit and send my mind to a safe place.

He took a handful of my hair from the top of my head into His fist, held it straight up in the air, and drew the shears across it. The two blades clamped together in one full motion and His hand moved away from my head with a huge clump of my hair in it.

Tears streamed down my face, much as the wetness streamed from my pussy, as my beautiful hair was shorn, handful by agonizing handful.

He held up each section and made eye contact with me in the mirror before closing the steel vices on it. He laid each section carefully on the floor in front of me. Handful after handful, He cut the curls from my head until I felt several pounds lighter and dizzy from the trial.

The results of His work were horrendous as he had not taken any care to make sure it was even. When He was finished, He laid the shears before me as if they were some sort of sacrifice, and admired His punishment.

"Are you satisfied?" He asked.

I studied myself through tear stained eyes and clouded vision. I looked like a wretched clown. Tufts of hair stuck out, each section a slightly different length, some close to the scalp and some two or three inches long. But I said nothing. Gave no indication of how this was destroying me and turning me on at the same time.

"I'm not," He answered for me.

He left the room again and I stared at the pile of hair I had coveted for years as it lay before me, spread out lovingly on the blue carpet by my knees.

He returned and I listened as He fumbled around behind me. The next thing I knew, He had electric clippers, which He turned on with a snap and held to my scalp. He placed the vibrating blade at the top of my head, and in one smooth stroke, He sheared me bald from my forehead to the nape of my neck. He continued in long pulls from the front to the back, working confidently around my ears and at the base of my neck until I was completely without hair.

He snapped the clippers off and stood behind me. He took my head in his hands and moved it roughly from side to side inspecting his work as if I were a show dog.

He knelt before me and looked into my eyes. His hands reached across the carpet for the clippers, which He found without breaking away from my gaze. The buzzers snapped to life again and He placed them on my stomach, sending shivers up my spine.

I had a beautiful pussy---almost as beautiful as the head of hair He had just had shorn. We both loved it, the fine blonde pubes that grew there, the scent that drifted from my wet clit. He often laid his face against my mound, inhaling the musk that came from deep inside of me. We kept it nicely groomed, my cunt, trimming the hair just enough to keep my bush perfect and round.

My eyes spurt forth tears again and I stopped breathing as He moved the clippers down my belly and to the top of my pussy. I began to cry in ragged breaths. He placed his finger to my mouth and shushed me.

"It's almost over," He said.

I did my best to compose myself, taking deep breaths and trying to focus on Him. I wanted to please Him and I knew that I deserved what I was getting. I knew better than to take the brush without permission. I shivered again as I thought of my bald head and how my cunt was about to match.

He drew the clippers across my pubes and they fell to the floor in a neat pile, resting on top of the hair He had shorn from my head. He worked diligently, leaning down and moving my lips from side to side, stretching the tender skin of my cunt to be sure He reached all of the offending pubes. He spread my legs apart in an excrutiating "V" to reach behind my cunt toward my ass, which was still full of the plug he had inserted in the beginning. His hand on my crotch made me hot and I struggled not to cum as He yanked the clippers without care across my cunt. Pull after pull, He shaved my cunt until it was as bald as my head. I looked down at it, pink and exposed and the wetness between my legs spread.

Fresh tears fell onto my cheeks when He stood and moved away from the mirror revealing the new me once again. It was awful. Bald head. Bald cunt. Yet I was strangely fascinated by my new look and the obvious pleasure it gave Him. I was anxious to be unbound so that I could run my hands across it, feel the tiny hairs as they grew in.

"I'm pleased," He said, running his hands over my smooth head much as I wished to do. He knelt and shoved his fingers into my pussy and felt the wetness that dripped from my cunt. "You are, too, slut."

He removed His pants and stood before me, thrusting His hard cock into my mouth as He has thrust the plug into my ass. He fucked my face until He was ready to cum, and then He pulled His dick from my lips and came all over my shiny head, His hot seed dripping down my bald pate and into my eyes.

He stood and pulled His pants up.

"You will remain in this position for the next half hour. You will study yourself in the mirror and you will remember that you are not to covet anything but me. My cock. My ass. My desires. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I said quietly as I licked the cum the had slid onto my lips.

As He turned to leave the room He bent over and turned the ass plug to vibrate.

He stood in the doorway as I writhed in agony, and then spoke one last time. "You may cum." He shut the door behind Him.

He left me there, chained to the bars, staring at myself in the mirror, my head and cunt as naked as the rest of my body, and I succumbed to my waiting orgasm.