Shorn

Scribbler's Notes: I decided to do something a little different based on recent experiences and my discovery of the head shaving fetish world. I didn't put it in non-erotic because for a lot of people, this type of story is VERY erotic. Thanks so much to Katt and Wolfe for introducing me to the concept of baldness as a kink. Enjoy.

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His fingers trailed along my shoulders, the same fingers that only an hour earlier had laced me into the royal blue silk and lace corset that hugged my figure into a neat hourglass. Each tug on the strings had brought a gasp from my lips and the feeling of my waist being pulled into that little taper had been in its own way erotic and sensual. But that was not what this night was about. This night was about my hair.

We had discussed it for months. At the beginning of our discussions my hair had been brushing past my shoulders and now came nearly to the small of my back. It had become an obsession for him and together we had surfed many websites, discovering this new fetish together. Finally we had decided to do it and he had made sure to get only the best supplies. Ordered in from Paris, the kit had been expensive, but he swore to me that it would be worth it, that it was the finest. The chair I now sat in had been purchased from a shop several states over but he had desired it and so I had conceded when he suggested we buy it.

His fingers trailed through my hair, stroking, gripping, drawing my head back to steal a kiss from my trembling lips. I was terrified of what we were doing, terrified and extremely excited. He fetched rope from the cupboard where all of our toys were kept and lovingly, carefully, my wrists were tied to the arms of the chair. He touched my shoulders lightly, leaning the chair back ever so slightly, all the time stroking my hair, a look of eagerness taking over his handsome features.

"Are you ready?" he finally spoke and I nodded. He gave me a look, "you need to say it," he reminded me. "You need to say yes or I won't do it." I had to consent in words so that I could not complain if I changed my mind afterwards.

"I'm ready," I whispered.

"Louder," he demanded.

"I'm ready."

"Good girl." He wound my hair around his hand and picked up a pair of scissors. I started to close my eyes and was stopped by a light tap on the forehead with the closed scissors.

The first snip dug through the strands and I bit my lower lip lightly. The next made its way across my hair. Seven more cuts -- I counted as I sat there shaking - and he pulled his hand away with my hair in his grasp. He dropped it on my lap and I looked down at it, fighting the urge to cry. He snipped away more of my hair and spun the chair so I could look at my deformed-do. There was almost nothing left, although, that was the idea of this little scene of his.

"If you cry, I'll leave it like this," he promised and I swallowed my tears and glared into his eyes in the mirror. He laughed and picked up the razor, plugging it in. As he switched it on and it began to buzz, I was shocked to find a jolt of excitement run through me. He pressed it against the base of my skull and pulled it up along my head, a loving look of concentration settled in his eyes as he peered down at the exposed scalp. I watched in the mirror as I was shorn, each buzz across my scalp sending a tingle down my spine and a sprinkling of hair over my shoulders to the floor.

He brushed his hands over my scalp to clear away the excess hair and began to carefully shave around my ears, gently pressing them out of the way of the razor. I finally relaxed into his touch as he finished the last swipe of the razor, switching it off and setting it down.

His hands were cold against my bare head and he stroked it with reverence, making sure his fingers touched every inch of flesh now exposed to his touch. He leaned down to press his lips against it, caressing the back of my neck, chasing away stray bits of hair that inched their way down my back.

Untying my wrists, he watched as I picked up the lengths of hair piled in my lap and pressed them to my cheek. They smelled of the shampoo I would no longer need and I found myself growing teary with the thought of it. I let it slide to the floor and rose off the chair, gazing at myself in the mirror.

His arms wrapped around my waist and he kissed the back of my neck, smiling at my startled expression.

"Beautiful," he murmured in my ear, "absolutely beautiful"

-End-