Skinning the Kat

(All characters in this work are at least eighteen years of age. Those referred to as boys or girls are done so as strictly a statement of gender, and not indicative of age.)

Note: This is a work of fantasy, with no intention of being compared to real life situations. Please treat it as such, and although it is listed as Non-Consensual, it is also Sci-Fi and Medical Fantasy. So, like Mary B. Shelly, I don't want comments telling me it's not possible. We're all well aware.

Saphhia

Grounded

Katrina sat on her sofa, another Friday gone to waste. She was bored and tired of serving the sentence imposed upon her by her overbearing mother. It had been three weekends in a row now, since she had come home at four in the morning, stinking drunk.

Of course, her mother had been sitting up, waiting for her arrival, and confronted her as soon as she walked in the door.

"Where the hell have you been young lady?" She scolded, looking at the kitchen clock that hung over the stove. "Do you know what time it is?"

When she began speaking it was more than a little obvious that she was dead drunk, slurring her words and then steadying herself against an available countertop. "Fuck off, bitch." Was all she remembered saying before the eye-opening slap that sent her careening to the floor.

The grounding was probably warranted, and she knew that. She had broken the rules, big time, and even insulted her mother in the process. So, it was hard to justify violating the punishment. It was a month of coming straight home from school and not leaving the house on weekends. Katrina tried to remind herself that it was only one more week. "Just one more week." She whispered under her breath, as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

The following week dragged on as the three before it had, and she was really developing a serious animosity towards her mother, who seemed to like nothing better than to remind her of her stunted social status.

So it was with some serious elation that the grounding finally came to an end, but with some serious implications. She was to stick to the rules that her mother had laid out, which really weren't that stringent, considering she had only just turned eighteen prior to her punishment. She was to be home by ten on school nights, and by midnight on the weekend. They were rules under which she would have to live, unless she wanted to suffer severe consequences.

The Party and the Excesses of Youth

All that first week she had been stretching the rules as far as she dared, walking in the door at precisely ten. She would even stand outside to make sure she didn't come in until the exact hour. Why she did this was more than likely some form of oppositional defiance, but so be it.

Friday finally came, and she knew where she was headed. There had been talk all week of a party going on at a local university. She knew she was forbidden to go to those parties, but how could she possibly resist. All her friends told her not to go, that they were too wild, and there had been some trouble. Katrina wasn't listening. She went by herself.

Walking through campus, she had some idea where the party was supposed to be held. All of the fraternities and sororities were in the same place, on a street casually known as Greek Row.

Once she got close, she just followed the beat of the louder than loud music that emanated from a large mansion-type house. People poured in and out of the doors to the place, and whatever was happening inside, she most definitely wanted to be part of.

Katrina had the advantage of looking much older than she was, with her long blonde hair and mature physique, she slipped right through the guys that seemed to be guarding the doors. "Welcome to Phi Delts, gorgeous." One of them had said as she passed. Eating up the compliment, she followed the stream of people into a large hall, where the music was nearly deafening.

A plastic glass was shoved into her hand, filled with beer, which was at least marginally cold. Quickly downing the liquid in a few gulps, it was replaced almost at once. She wondered whether there were frat members strictly assigned to getting girls wasted. By the fourth beer, Katrina was feeling the buzz.

Everything was going great, and she had danced with at least a few different guys. Some of them were a little more forward than others, copping a feel here and there. Katrina didn't object and it soon became obvious that more and more guys were having their way with her.

"You wanna see something fun? Come on." A tall dark guy had suggested. Being too drunk to object, she followed along. They wove through a couple of hallways and then down some stairs to a much darker, more sinister-looking room.

The music was more metal, really hard and acid, and black lights illuminated everyone and everything in a strange fluorescent glow. At one end of the room, there was some activity, and she was led by the wrist to the gathering.

A throne-like chair was elevated on a sort of pedestal, and was splattered haphazardly with fluorescent paint. It was what was happening in the chair that took Katrina by surprise.

A girl, who couldn't possibly be much older than she was being held in place by two rather beefy-looking guys. All her clothes had been cut away, lying in tatters on the floor by her feet.

Katrina gawked at the girl trying to make out what was happening, but the black lights and the darkness of the corner they were in made it difficult. She was handed another glass, only this wasn't beer, but something much stronger. Katrina knew she shouldn't, but she quickly downed the burning liquid as the guy egged her on, from beside her.

The music changed, and so did the lighting for a moment. It was in that moment that she realized what was happening to the girl in the throne. Her hair was being shaved off. Two holes were cut in the high back of the throne, through which hands emerged, each grasping a hair clipper.

Katrina watched in horror as the screaming girl was divested of her long brown hair. The blindly wielded machines left a patchwork of messy stubble in their wake and had even removed an eyebrow in their haphazard frenzy of depilation.

As horrified by the spectacle as Katrina was, the hard liquor that she had been given a minute before was kicking in, and she couldn't help but be fascinated as well. Most of the guys around her seemed equally mesmerized by the show. It then occurred to her that she was the only girl, aside from the unfortunate creature being shorn in the throne.

Katrina was more worried about what was going to happen to the girl after the shaving, because with all her clothes ripped away, she was prime material for whatever these oversexed frat boys wanted to do.

The clippers had done all the damage they could have, and all Katrina could manage to think was at least all the patchy stubble was gone. The girl was completely bald, including both eyebrows in the end.

Suddenly, the two guys holding the girl down let go, and she leaped from the chair like she was launched on a spring. Naked and bald, the unfortunate thing disappeared into the crowd.

With the throne now empty, all eyes fell on Katrina. On the back of the chair, she read the words: SIT AND BE JUDGED, apparently stenciled over the pop art splatterings of paint.

Realizing all too late why she had been brought there, she tried to run, but was easily captured by two frat boys eager to see her 'be judged'.

Kicking and screaming, she was dragged backward into the throne, where two strong hands latched mercilessly onto her arms, holding her firmly against the back.

Suddenly, hands were emerging on either side of her, except they no longer held the evil clippers. For a moment, Katrina thought she might be spared that fate. Instead, the hands began tearing at her clothes, ripping open her blouse with a single motion, the displaced buttons glowing in the black lights as they flew off into the crowd, which had now gathered eagerly around her.

Just as effortlessly, her bra was torn from her body, disappearing with the remains of her blouse back through the holes. The hands appeared once again, and began rubbing over Katrina's exposed breasts, which seemed to have exactly the opposite effect she thought she should have. Rather than shy away, Katrina thrust her chest outward, encouraging even more rough handling as the hands kneaded her supple flesh until each tit ached from the attention.

Eventually, they worked their way down to the cut-off shorts she wore, grasping the leg holes and ripping upward, they tore the material open to the waistband. In an instant, her panties were gone and what was left of her jean shorts was pulled back through the holes.

Realizing that she was now totally naked and exposed before all of these leering eyes, only served to excite her even more. So as the hand moved between her

legs, they encountered a very wet and excited Katrina.

As if trained in the art, the hands began to work at her clitoris and virgin opening, and she found it impossible to hide her arousal any longer. She thrust her hips forward, meeting the hands of her tormentor greedily. This was a sex show, and she was the star. Suddenly, she imagined everyone that stared at her, having pulled out their cocks, stroking them in sympathy for her abject humiliation.

Katrina rocked in the chair with the rhythm of the hands which worked their fingers in and out of her, stealing her maidenhead in the cruelest arena imaginable. She lost count of the number of times she came, but when she finally fell back into the throne, she was coated in a sheen of her own sweat and juices. The air around her reeked of her singular passion, and that alone was humiliation enough to rouse her out of her sexually induced stupor.

Only then, when she had begun to regain some semblance of thought, did the hands reappear. The men holding her down, renewed their efforts, knowing that there would be a struggle.

'There they are' Katrina mouthed, as each hand that had stimulated her so wonderfully, now held an insipid hair clipper. Katrina looked up at the two men restraining her so diligently and shook her head, smiling. As if reading her thoughts, the men released their grasp. She could have run. She would have been caught, and having betrayed their trust, be held even more roughly to the throne.

Instead, Katrina sat herself up in the ornate chair and waited for the inevitable to happen. What she had imagined happening before, was no longer imaginary. Cocks were being stroked, openly before her, and she couldn't help but imagine sucking each and every one.

She heard the whirr of the clippers at each ear as they came to life. As she was not struggling as the other girl had done, the actions of the hands were more measured, more precise. She felt the hot metal of the bare blades slide up both sides of her head at once, to be followed by blonde rivulets of silk sliding to the floor at her feet. A strip at a time, she felt the cool air of the old basement against the barren skin of her scalp.

The very men who had held her captive, now stroked their impressive cocks only inches from her face. She wanted desperately to taste them, to feel their massive size stretch her mouth as she took them.

Instead, she was being shaved. The throne was slowly being enveloped by her hair as it fell away from her balding head. She knew, deep inside, that she should be horrified, but she was not. With each stroke of the blades, her pussy grew wetter, her renewed arousal filling the air with her scent and driving the rigid cocks closer to coming.

Dutifully, she dipped her head forward so the blindly guided blades could rid her of the last of her once-glorious blonde mane. As the last of her hair slithered down her sweat-soaked back, she leaned back between the holes, as if daring the mystery hands to finish.

They knew where they were as the blades came to rest parallel to each other, just above the bridge of her nose. Slowly, painstakingly, the humming machines slid over Katrina's brows, removing them to the very skin beneath.

She felt it now, the demon that drove her passion, and it forced her to slither out of the throne, and onto the floor, where the cushion of her hair and that of the girl before her made her bed.

The intruder was poised at her opening, and she opened her legs to him, inviting him to be the first. Tipping her bald head back she sensed the presence of the other, and opened her mouth wantonly, the rigid cock feeling even better than she imagined as it slipped over her tongue to lodge in the back of her throat.

Others knelt around her, and she reached out with her hands until she found a random cock with each and encouraged their climax.

As the rhythm of the pounding between her legs came to a crescendo, she tasted the salty gift from the one who used her mouth as his cunt. Suddenly, through groans and cries of lust, each left their mark on her. Filled within and covered without, she was left in a puddle of their making, of her making.

Katrina tried to lift her head, but she was without any energy at all. She felt dirty, used, and ashamed, but knew this was what she deserved; what she wanted.

The insistent buzzing near her ear was a distraction, and she realized that the very one who had shaved her had also used her, his clippers still running on the floor next to her.

Reality and Escape

The buzzing grew louder, more insistent.

"Katrina! Get up, you're going to be late!" The annoying sound of her mother's voice echoed through the door. She opened her eyes, reaching over to silence the buzzing alarm on the nightstand beside her bed.

Her sheets were soaked, and her pussy drooled as she dragged herself out of the bed. She reached up and realized that her hair was still very much intact, although very much matted to her skull with sweat. Had it all been a dream? Katrina couldn't decide whether she was disappointed or elated.

Later that day, it was as though she was living the dream. Again, her friends were less than enthusiastic about the frat party at the university. But again, she had every intention of going, now more than ever. She had to get back there. Back to the place where she had been in her dream. Katrina had never felt more alive than when she had been the center of attention, regardless of how sexually bereft and perverted that notion had been.

The frat party was nothing but a bunch of guys getting drunk, and the place didn't even have a basement. She had a few beers and left, devastatingly disappointed. She doubted that she would ever get back to that place. She tried again and again to make sense of her desire to be that degraded, that used, but no matter how many times she tore it apart, it changed nothing about how she felt.

Months passed, and graduation happened, but it was all a bit of a blur. The desire had grown into an obsession. Katrina was hollow, a shell of herself as the notion of attaining that ultimate humiliation grew dim.

She had to leave. Moving out and gathering all she owned, she boarded a plane for Amsterdam, having read that it was a hotbed of sexual depravity. Surely, she could find what she needed there.

At first, it was frustrating. Penetrating the underworld of an outwardly sexually driven place was difficult. It wasn't the language, as most everyone spoke enough English for her to at least communicate.

Kat as she was now calling herself, managed to find a job waiting tables, under the table. This was all she was able to find due to the scarcity of work visas. It was enough to live on.

In her small one-room, she had written down the dream in every imaginable form, so she never forgot a single aspect of the debasing nightmare. She carried a copy with her, just in case. Just in case of what, she still had to work out.

One evening, as she readied herself for the walk home from the bistro, she realized that someone had rifled her purse. Panicked, she ran through it realizing that at least thirty Euros were missing. Amazingly, her passport and ID were still there. She breathed easier, until she realized that the small notebook where she had chronicled her dream was also missing. A few of the other servers took pity on her and threw in some money for her to get by on, and it was enough.

The really disturbing part of this was that someone was walking around Amsterdam knowing her deepest, darkest fantasies. In the back of her mind, she tried to imagine someone coming to grips with probably the most twisted story they'd ever read.

A month later, Kat had pretty much forgotten about the incident and was considering returning to America. The fantasy, she realized, was just going to remain a fantasy.

She had made a few friends during her time in Amsterdam and had even experimented at a couple of sex clubs. Some seemed to touch on the fetishistic bug that had crawled inside her that night in her dreams.

Kat had all but booked the airline reservations back to Chicago, when she received an odd note in the mail.

"I see you are leaving. What of your dream, Katrina? Meet me on the bridge at Oosterpark. Do not be late, and come alone. 10 pm tonight."

For a moment, Kat didn't know what to do. Obviously, this person knew her address, he had stolen from her and knew her darkest sexual desires. Everything she knew told her to run the other way. Having been in her purse, he probably knew everything there was to know about her. It was not safe.

And yet, there was that desire, suddenly rekindled. No matter how she broke it down, the risk outweighed the benefit. She had decided not to go. She tore up the note and tossed it in the bin, continuing to get ready for her move back to the states.

It was about eight o'clock that night when that demon bug crawled down into her pants and danced on her clitoris. The fact that she had remained a virgin all this time just to make the dream possible to live out, irked her no end. More than a few men had been very good candidates to pop her cherry, as it were. Now she was leaving. Or was she?

Almost in a trance, Katrina found herself walking down the Ruyschstraat, Oosterpark looming like a dark void ahead of her. The place was a sort of nature preserve, and was closed after dark. Making certain she wasn't seen, Katrina slipped onto one of the many paved paths that wound through the overgrown ponds and fields.

Rendezvous and a Date with Destiny

She was early, and it gave her enough pause to stop herself just short of the bridge. This was it. There would be no turning back once she made this commitment. She had no idea who this person was, or what they were capable of.

A dark figure was waiting on the bridge, his face illuminated by the ember of a cigarette he smoked. Her legs carried her forward, almost against her will.

"I am almost surprised to see you, Katrina." He mused, tamping out the cigarette on the heel of his shoe before tossing it into the murky water below.

"I'm here." I managed, my voice shaking with either anticipation or fear, and perhaps a healthy dose of both.

He held out his hand, paper of some sort within it. Katrina took whatever it was he offered. There was enough light to see that it was thirty Euros. "I owe you that. I apologize if it was an inconvenience, but I had to make it look like thievery."

"Thank you." Was all she said.

"How long are you good in your apartment?" He asked.

The question seemed odd to her, but she answered anyway. "I'm paid through the end of the month."

"Good. That will give us enough time, with a little to spare, should you wish to return." He informed her. "We will be leaving the Netherlands. What you seek cannot happen here."