Down and Down She Goes Ch. 02

I had just enough time to get to my appointment, never having the opportunity to look up the location on my computer. "Fuck it," I whispered under my breath. With everything I'd been through, I was ready for anything. Already, my cunt was leading the way, anticipating another humiliating task ahead.

Unfortunately, the inside of my Bentley still stank of Vanessa's pee, but I imagined that would fade in time. I had prepared myself for whatever my nemesis had in store, but I was still a bit shaken as I pulled up in front of Buster's Barbershop. Checking the address, there was no mistake. This was the place.

Taking a deep breath, I dragged myself out of the car and made my way toward the entrance. The place was a bit busy, a handful of men sitting patiently on one side of the room while a single stylist worked on a man in his large leather and chrome chair. He looked my way, not all that surprised to find a woman in his shop.

"If you're here for a haircut, take a number." He directed, tersely, returning to the task at hand. I took a seat, fumbling with the paper number. The men all seemed a bit taken by my presence, and to be honest I felt very out of place. I didn't even know what Vanessa expected of me. Had she left instructions for the man?

I watched as he peeled one head after the next, all getting the same basic haircut. Nothing on the sides, with a ring of stubble on the crown. Was this what Vanessa had planned for me? I felt my hands start to sweat as the realization sunk in. Several men had entered the shop after me, and I knew that they would be treated to whatever I was forced to endure.

"Harriet, yeah?" The barber sighed, as he wrapped a tight piece of crepe paper around my slender neck.

"Yes, uh... that's me." I managed, as the cape swung around me, enveloping me inside.

"Figured. Not really a lady's place, in here, so..." He adjusted the paper, folding it neatly over the top of the cape. I expected him to undo the braid that I had fashioned after my long shower, but he didn't. "I've got instructions, so just sit back and enjoy the show." He kidded, lifting a rather menacing set of clippers from underneath the counter.

He spun me around so that I was facing the half-dozen or so men that had wandered in after me. I suppose I shouldn't have been too shocked as the whirring machine slipped under my braid in the back, running effortlessly up the back of my head, all the way to the crown. The clattering of the blades and the vibration of the clippers against my scalp set my cunt on edge. I think it didn't know whether to shrink in fear or ooze with delight. In the end, I know it was the latter.

Working with practiced efficiency, the barber quickly found his way around my head, each pass causing my drooping braid to fall a little closer to the floor. Near the end, he placed the clippers at the top of my forehead, pulling straight back, relieving my head of the last of its blonde tresses. A muffled thump told me that my braid had finally succumbed to the clippers, falling lifeless to the checkered linoleum floor.

There were a few sequestered whispers amongst the men, and a few chuckles, but as the barber swung me around to face the mirror, nothing could have prepared me for the creature that stared back in my direction.

I suffered a bit of a disconnect, suddenly, not able to see the reflection as anything but that. It was bald, of course, the clippers having taken its hair right to the scalp, all over. Whatever setting he had used, left absolutely nothing behind. It reached up from under the cape, touching its scalp and shuddering at the absence of hair. It was gone, well and truly gone. Running its fingertips down the sides, they paused to examine its ears, which seemed inordinately large, protruding absurdly from the sides of its bald head. Bald head? It was finally sinking in. The creature in the mirror was me! I was bald!

Finally released from this humiliation, I paid the man and virtually ran out of the shop and the safety of my car. I could hear the loud guffaws coming from the place as the door closed behind me, and I shuddered. It was only after I sat down and closed the car door, that I realized just how aroused I was. "I must be sick in the head." I blurted, and not quietly.

Still reeling from this latest demeaning task, I drove home, for lack of any other place to go. Right now, I imagined Vanessa in court, taking my cases and running with them, while I suffered one indignation after the next. Still, there was no doubt what I'd be doing as soon as I walked in the door to my house.

I could smell my cunt before I even got my slacks off, and I knew this was going to be quick and violent. Naked, I ran to the full-length mirror in my bedroom, laughing a bit too loudly as the whole picture began to hit home. With one hand working my 'Lil' Stinker!' and the other rubbing my freshly denuded head, I came almost at once, collapsing in a heap, hideous and defeated on the sculptured Berber carpet.

My mind was running as I lay there, screaming in absolute horror over what I had become, knowing full well that there was no coming back from this. My cunt would win this battle every time. It mocked me from between my legs, sporting its absurdly tattooed skin and reveling in the abject humiliation it had forced me to endure. It was going to win, and it was going to cost me everything.