Chapter 5 - a Haircut
About a month later Anne arrived at Paul's house for their regular
Saturday afternoon session, which would be followed by the evening out.
By this time Anne was actually looking forward to the sessions. Paul would
drag her through the dirt verbally but in the course of that trip, she would
cum ever harder than when she took care of things in her own bed at home.
So she walked in and started to remove her leather skirt. But Paul stopped
her. "We're going out" he informed her.
"But why" Anne whined. She was looking forward to the session and
didn't want to give it up.
"Because your pussy is too hairy. I want to get the hair removed.. Sluts
don't have hair on their pussy - its bald so that everyone can see their hot
cunt."
"Go out, I don't understand. And I can't shave my pussy, girls just don't
do that."
Paul sighed. "Do we have to go through this again? I can show you the
video tape I've made for your father, pull you across my lap, and spank
your ass till its hotter than the sun. And then you'll go. You know it. I
know it. Besides, your a slut. We both know it. And sluts aren't supposed
to have hair on their pussy."
Anne acted as though each sentence from Paul was him hitting her. Yes
she would do it. Yes she was a slut. She didn't have any choice. Anne
dropped her head as she realized her total lack of control over her body.
"ok" she whispered and turned to go.
"Just a minute. Just because you realize you have no choice now doesn't
excuse your telling me no before. You have to be punished don't you."
Anne looked up at Paul and nodded very slightly yes.
"Don't you" Paul said with a large threat in his voice.
"Yes" Anne said, fearful of Paul.
"Pull your skirt up and assume the position. Oh, and don't cry because we
are going out immediately after the spanking and I'm not giving you time
to fix your makeup."
Anne leaned against the wall and arched her back.
"Beg for it."
"Oh please Paul, whip my ass. I'm sorry I said no, please forgive me,
please do--- AAAGGGH, OH GOD IT HURTS SO MUCH, NOT ANO---
OOOOWWWWWHHH, DEAR GOD DEAR GOD I'M SORRY I'M SO
SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I'm sorry I'm sorry please forgive me,
oh please I'm sorry."
"Tell me you love me and beg for another. Do it NOW."
"Oh Paul, I'm sorry, I love you please don't, oh please don't, I love you, I
love you, I love you, I'm sorry, pleas--- AAAGGGHHH, OH GOD IT
HURTS SO MUCH, OH GOD PLEASE DON'T, PLEASE PLEASE
PLEASE I BEG YOU, I LOVE YOU PAUL."
"You said please don't so that one doesn't count" he told her grinning.
This was the first time she had said she loved him, and it was while he was
whipping her. Definitely a strong foundation for their future. "Beg for it or
it'll go a lot worse for you, and tell me how much you love me - slut."
"Oh Paul I love you, I do love you. I know I'm just a slut but I love you.
Please spank me, please please span--- AAAAAGGGGGHHHH OH GOD
OH GOD OH GOD, IT HURTS, IT HURTS SO BAD, ITHU---"
"Tell me that you love me slut."
"OH GOD I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU PAUL. IT HURTS SO MUCH I
LOVE YOU. I love you I love you it hurts oh god it hurts."
"Beg slut."
"Please whip my ass, please whip it. Whip your slut's ass, I love you so
much and I want you to whip my ass, plea--- AAAGGGHH OH GOD I
LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU. PLEASE PLEASE OH GOD
please don't - don't, oh god I love you."
And with that Anne turned and threw herself on Paul holding on to him
and with sobs wracking her body kept repeating "I love you, I love you."
Paul held her until the sobs receded. Then kissed her on the lips pulled her
skirt down, and pulled her out the door to her car.
After driving a bit Paul pulled over and showed Anne 6 packages. They
were all the same size and addressed to her father at his work address, her
school's principal, the local newspaper, and the 3 local TV stations. He
then explained what was in the packages, a collection of the best photos he
had taken as well as 2 hours of the best scenes he had shot on video tape.
Anne was scared. This was much worse than the original photo. This
would show the world that she was a full-fledged slut. And with the
information going to the principal and news media, the word would get out
all over town. She wouldn't be able to live if this happened. Oh god, what
was Paul going to do to her.
Paul then laid it out. "We're going to a beauty salon to have your pubic
hair removed. They will do what you tell them to do. If at any time you tell
them to stop, they will stop and there is nothing I can do to make them
continue. You get to decide what happens.."
"However, if at any time you tell them no, or don't answer any question the
way I tell you to, I will leave immediately and mail these packages. There
is no second chance. If the women in this store think anything funny is
going on they will probably refuse to continue and may even call the cops.
So you can't disagree with me and then immediately change your mind to
make it right - one screw-up and you become the front page story for this
town."
With that Paul grabbed Anne by the chin and held her face about 2 inches
from his. "Do you understand my little slut - one fuck-up and the whole
town gets to see what a slut you are. Do you understand me my little
whore?"
Anne, totally afraid now, both about the packages and afraid of Paul
nodded her head up and down and said "yes." She didn't know which was
worse, an angry Paul or the packages mailed out. But she didn't want
either to happen.
"Another thing, this will hurt. Not anyway near as much as when I spank
you but it will hurt. You can cry and ask me to hold you. But you must
endure it until they are done. You got that?"
Anne just nodded. Whatever he wanted, she was not going to cross him
right now. Not with those packages waiting to be mailed.
"Finally, we need to remove your butt plug. The people working at this
salon might not want to touch you if they realize what a slut you are. And
only a real cunt walks into a salon and shows the world her butt plug.
Anne blushed and realized that she would have done just that. The butt
plug had become so much a part of her life that she had forgotten it. God
what a slut she was if she would show people that. She really was
becoming quite a slut. Oh god help her.
Paul then pulled back into traffic and drove the rest of the way to the salon.
They went in and Paul informed the receptionist that they had an
appointment. They were shown to a private back room where the girl
showed Anne a chair to sit in. Anne removed her underwear and skirt as
instructed and laid back in the chair, spreading her legs.
The stylist walked in and started getting the electrolysis equipment ready.
You understand that this will hurt she told Anne.
Anne nodded and said "yes, I do."
"Now, what exactly do you want taken off?"
Anne looked at Paul with a question on her face.
"All of it, isn't it dear?" Paul said to Anne.
"Yes, all of it" Anne said to the stylist.
The stylist looked at Anne a little strange but started to work. It hurt Anne
every time the needle went in and every time it zapped. She held on to
Paul's arm and gritted her teeth. But as time went on (it takes a long time
to remove an entire bush) the pain moved into a dull constant in the
background.
Anne started to think about how she looked. Lying there with her legs
spread letting another woman work on her cunt. And when she was done,
she would have no pussy hair - ever. Boy, she would really look like a slut
then. In a way she couldn't hide. Anyone who saw her naked would knew,
she was a slut.
The funny thing, thinking of how this was marking her as a slut, combined
with the constant pin pricks, was actually arousing her. Not a mind-
blowing orgasm kind of arousal but it was putting her mind on sex. And on
sex that degraded her as a slut. And that was getting her worked up.
And then she suddenly realized, the stylist working between her legs would
see the juices leak out of her cunt. Hell, she would smell it. And then she
would realize that Anne was getting turned on by this. The thought was too
awful to bear. But Anne found herself getting even more turned on by the
thought of this woman knowing what a complete slut she was.
About this time the stylist was moving up to remove the hairs around
Anne's clit. This got Anne worked up even more. Paul noticed first
because of Anne's clutching of his hand. My god he thought, the whore's
getting off on this.
The stylist noticed next. This little tramp is actually enjoying this. I just
hope she doesn't cum on my hand, oh yech.
But Anne was getting closer and closer, and suddenly, a zap of a hair at the
base of her clit put her over the edge. Anne tried to hide it but couldn't.
The stylist stopped and both Paul and the stylist stopped and watched Anne
orgasm.
Anne then sank back in her chair totally mortified. "Sorry about that" Paul
said. "I'm afraid she is a bit of a tramp. I'm really really sorry about this."
"I can't work on a woman like this" the stylist said, standing up and
looking disgustedly at Anne.
"Please reconsider. She's almost done and if we have to go elsewhere then
another stylist has to put up with the same reactions. She's done now so
you should be able to complete the job before she gets out of control again."
Anne tried to sink deeper into the chair. Oh god, how could she have had
an orgasm right in front of this stranger. What kind of woman was she.
She really was a slut. She just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Yet her
she was, lying back with her legs spread for this stranger.
"We don't want to leave here with the job incomplete, do we" Paul said to
Anne.
Anne suddenly realized what Paul meant. They couldn't leave yet or he
would mail the packages. Oh my god no. "Please finish it" she begged the
stylist. "I'm really really sorry. I won't do it again. Please forgive me." God
she wanted to die, pleading with the woman to continue removing her hair,
apologizing for cuming on her ministrations.
"Ok, I'll finish up the job, but no more enjoying it you little whore" the
stylist said, contempt dripping from her voice. "I'm not gay and I'm not
getting paid to get you off. So hold still and try to behave as a lady would -
although god knows no lady ever had all of her pubic hair removed."
Anne felt like dirt. This woman was right. She was not a lady anymore, not
by any stretch of the imagination. She was a whore, getting off on the
hands of another woman. Oh god, how had she become so sick.
The stylist was in a hurry now, jabbing faster and deeper to get the job
done quicker. But it caused Anne's excitement to build up again. Anne
grabbed Paul's arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Help me she
thought, help me not enjoy this.
Paul looked down and realized that she was getting off again. The
combination of the fear and the stylists utter contempt were building her up
even faster. He actually needed to do something if they were going to
complete this job. Paul slapped Anne firmly.
The shock, both of the slap itself, and being slapped in front of this woman
who considered Anne a dirty slut broke the building orgasm. Thank you
Paul, thank you thank you thank you she thought, looking up at him.
The stylist looked back at Anne's pussy, but hesitated.
"I'll pay you a $500.00 tip if you finish the job" Paul said. "And I'll do my
best to get her to behave. Please finish this, I know she's a slut but I love
her and she wants this."
Anne couldn't believe her ears, Paul was blaming it all on her. Of course,
it was her fault that she was cumming. And if she was a slut, then she did
have to get her pussy hair removed she guessed. Maybe it was all her fault.
No it couldn't be. It was all Paul's fault.
But she glanced down at the stylist and saw the utter contempt in her eyes
for her. The stylist knew she was a worthless tramp. The stylist thought
Paul was a nice guy. Maybe the stylist was right. After all, the stylist was
grossed out by Anne's cuming and wasn't that the reaction a normal
person would have.
But here she was, getting all excited again. In fact, she wanted to cum. She
didn't care if the stylist saw her cum. In fact, she wanted to be seen. She
wanted the stylist to look at her with utter contempt, convinced she was a
complete slut. Just the thought of the other woman's reaction had Anne
building up.
Paul saw what was happening. She was getting off again. He slapped her
face. But this time Anne expected it and it just furthered her debasement.
He slapped her again and again. Anne kept looking up at him with a the
blank look of someone building towards an intense cum. Each slap seemed
to build the cum.
Anne couldn't stand it any longer. The slaps, the jabbing of the needle, the
thought of how she looked, only a pig could get off on this. The thought of
enjoying this was so sickening to her that it got her even more excited. She
tried to hold it in, to cum because of this meant that she was turned on by
being treated as a complete slut. She couldn't cum from that - it would
mean she was nothing.
Anne held it in as long as she could, but finally, the dam burst. She started
grunting and moved her hand down to rub her clit. The stylist and Paul
jumped back. While Paul was secretly loving it, the stylist was totally
disgusted with what she saw. The little whore had cum again. What a piece
of trash.
"That's it" the stylist said. "The dirty little slut keeps getting off on my
hand. This isn't worth $500.00. No way."
"Wait" said Paul. "I'll let you punish her for being such a whore."
"Punish her?"
"Yes, when you're done, you can spank her for being such a bad girl.
Don't you want to make her pay for getting off on you?"
The woman paused at that. It would be nice to teach this little whore the
error of her ways. And she would like to punish her for using her as a
vibrator. "Yes, I'll do it."
Anne was watching this all with disbelief. Paul was going to let this
woman spank her. Paul expected her to let this woman spank her. Anne
was starting to realize how low she had sunk. A good girl would not be
here, would not have her legs spread, and would not let anyone spank her.
She was a good girl, she knew it deep down inside. The real Anne started
to bubble to the surface.
The stylist looked at Anne and told her, "lie back you little whore. And
I've had enough of you getting off on my hand. You may want to fuck
every man woman and child you meet but I don't. Try this once more and
you'll find yourself getting the spanking you deserve immediately little
girl."
How dare she talk to Anne like that. "I'm not a whore" Anne protested.
Don't call me a whore and sto---
"Not a whore" the stylist laughed. "How many times have you gotten off on
my hand jabbing you with this needle. Most women come in here and say it
hurts to have their hair removed. You cum from a stranger doing it to you.
You're a dirty little whore."
Each word was like a blow to Anne. Yes it was all true. The real Anne
buried itself back in her subconscious somewhere and Anne the slut
reasserted itself. Anne looked up at Paul with tears in her eyes. She was a
slut wasn't she. Oh god, she was so low. At least Paul wanted her. "Paul, I
love you" she said, desperate to know someone wanted a slut like her.
Paul leaned over, brushed away her tears, and said "I love you too little
Anne." Don't you worry, I'll take care of you.
The rest of the removal passed fine. The stylist worked, Anne quietly cried,
and Paul stroked her hair. And Anne kept thinking, I'm a slut but Paul still
loves me.
Finally, it was completed and the stylist handed Anne a mirror to inspect
the work. Anne looked down and realized that it was as bald as the day she
was born. And it would stay that way for the rest of her life. She was
marked as a slut forevermore.
The stylist then pulled Anne, still naked from the waist down, over to a
chair, sat in the chair, and pulled Anne over her lap. "A bad girl like you
needs to be punished don't you."
"Yes" Anne whispered.
And the stylist then proceeded to use a hair brush to paddle both of Anne's
ass cheeks bright red. The whole time she kept up a monologue - "you're a
dirty little slut. You probably want to show that bald pussy to all the boys at
school don't you. I bet you can't wait to have everyone's cock sliding into
that little pussy. I bet you get yourself off whenever you can don't you. Do
you play with yourself every night and morning?" All the time raining
down the blows.
Anne quietly sobbed realizing that she deserved this punishment. Yes it
was true, she was a slut. When she heard the question about playing with
herself every morning and night she sobbed out "Yes, yes I play with my
pussy whenever I can, I'm a slut, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
And at that the stylist pushed Anne off of her lap. "You little whore, you
were probably getting off on my spanking you. You need to be punished,
not rewarded for being such a whore. Get away from me. I'm going to go
wash my hands to remove your smell from me you dirty slut."
Anne sat on the floor feeling totally worthless. Paul leaned down in front of
her and told her to play with herself. Anne looked at him in shock - how
could he say such a thing after what had just happened. The stylist had told
her that she was a dirty slut. She didn't want to be a slut. Anne started to
pull herself together.
Paul reached down, took one of Anne's hands, and used it to rub her clit.
Anne resisted for about half a minute, but then it started to work. After
another minute with Paul's assistance, Anne took over on her own, rubbing
her clit.
Paul stayed kneeling down facing her and telling her what a slut she was to
be getting off just after the stylist had spanked her for being such a slut.
Even a slut had some self respect. Anne was just a mindless nympho,
rubbing her clit trying to get off, not caring what anyone thought of her.
No that wasn't true, the utter contempt of the stylist helped her get off.
Paul's whispers that she was a total slut was getting her off. the fact that
someone with the slightest shred of self-respect would at least go
somewhere more private first built her up.
Anne played with her clit wallowing in her debasement. Her whole world
was her clit. She rubbed it furiously listening to Paul. She was a complete
slut. A complete slut could get off anywhere because nothing else mattered.
Over the past few weeks Anne's young body had received a crash course in
how to satisfy the sexual urges her hormones had awakened in her. But
there had been no course in love or respect or willpower. She had been
taught how to satisfy her strongest urges immediately and fully. And like a
powerful drug, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to break her of the
habit.
And it was the feeling of utter worthlessness that allowed Anne to give up
the civilized restraints each of us normally uses to moderate our more
primal impulses. The more slutty and worthless Anne felt, the more she
felt free to satisfy her sexual urges.
And more than that, there was something in Anne's makeup, probably
from years of being raised as a child who should always obey, that reveled
in having her nose rubbed in the dirt. The more degraded she felt, the more
she got off.
So Anne crouched there, dripping pussy juice onto the floor, rubbing her
clit and cascading from orgasm to orgasm. Rubbing her forever bald slit,
and staring at Paul who was watching her get herself off.
Until finally she collapsed in the puddle of her pussy juices, not even
realizing it she was so wiped out. Staring blankly into space as Paul lifted
her up and put her skirt back on her. They then walked out, past the stares
and whispers of the stylists to Paul's car, and drove off.
