Friday, 28 August 2015

Just a short little story to start off your week

A week ago, my mother forced my sister to shave her head. Jen had been a gorgeous blonde with the world wrapped around her finger. No more. Jen was now alone; only I remained faithful to her. I thought she looked horrible, yes, but also thought it was good for her. It would bring an end to her stupid ways. This did not mean I wanted MY head shaved. HELL NO!
Needless to say, when my mother told me I had to shave my head too, I was pissed, scared, and annoyed. And….excited. I couldn’t stop thinking what would happen. I had gotten so excited, so wet, so damn horny watching Jen’s hair sheared off. But yet, I didn’t want to be bald. I loved my black hair. It was shoulder length, generally curled in perfect ringlets, and soft. It accentuated my face, unless most long hair. It curled around my face, framing it and bringing attention to my brilliant blue eyes. I’d look ugly with a bald head. I just knew it!
Each morning I woke up, nervous to face my mother. I both longed and dreaded the day she said I had to get my hair cut. I’d wake, shower, dry and curl my hair, and head downstairs. At twelve, I still enjoyed wearing baggy shorts and t shirts. After a week of no further notice of a haircut, I thought my mom had forgotten. I began to relax. Friday morning, I was chipper and singing when I walked downstairs. Mom looked and me and grinned; instantly my spirit and mood crashed. IT was time. But she said nothing.
The day dragged by. I was terrified to go home. But, eventually, school let out, and I arrived home, fearful and nervous. I stepped through the front door and dropped my bag. Hungry, I went to get a snack. As I stepped through the push swing door into the kitchen, I froze. In the middle of the floor, there was newspaper laid out under a chair. Electric clippers, scissors, and a comb sat utop the table. I quickly lost my appetite and turned to leave. As I turned, I screamed. I ran right into my mother, who was grinning. She put a hand on my shoulder and said “I didn't feel like spending the money to do something so simple. So, I figured I would shave your head.”
I replied with a shaky voice,”Mom, please. I'm a good girl, I focus in school.”
“Jen used to focus too. Now look what happened to her. There is no need to be afraid Becky, I promise. It’ll look cute, and so much less hassle.”
“NO Becky! Sit!” Mother pushed me gently but firmly towards the chair. I made a rash decision. I bit her hand and tried to run past her. No way I was having my head shaved. Mother cursed and twirled around. I ducked as her hand swung out to grab me. I booked it to the living room and was about to open the door when she grabbed me. I screamed and cursed at her. She grasped my hair in one hand, my arm in the other, and began to drag me back to the kitchen. No matter how hard I kicked or how loud I screamed, she just kept plowing forward. She yanked me upright and said “Sit”. This time, I sat.
She picked up the scissors, snapped them in front of my face, then began her dirty deed. She picked up a curl and caressed it. Then, bringing the scissors so close to my scalp that I could feel the cold hard metal, she snipped of a lock of my hair. She dropped it to the floor in front of me before picking up another curl. She cut this curl off as well. She worked her way from the right side of my head, down around my neck, and up the left. I continuously cried and begged her to stop. But no pleas could change her mind.
Mother picked up a mirror and showed me her progress. I had a cap of long curls left sitting atop my head, but uneven jagged bits of hair everywhere else. It looked utterly horrible. I cursed my mother again. “You evil bitch! What did I do!!??” I hated her for what she was doing to my head. She simply laughed and picked up the clippers.
The hum of the clippers echoed in my mind. The steady hum was almost soothing. Mother pulled the rest of my hair up and pushed the clippers from my crown back. The vibrations of the clippers brought me to an instant climax. I’d never experienced something like this before. Tingling sensations erupted through my body. I let out a moan. It felt wonderful.
Mother made another swipe and pass on my head. Then another, and another. Soon, I had no hair left atop my head. Mother patted my head and said, “see, you look fine.”. I got up and left. I studied myself in the mirror in my room. My hair had been shaved nearly all the way. I ran my hands over my head over and over again. I couldn't get over the sensation of my scalp. I Loved it. I truly did. And, honestly, i looked better than Jen, but only because she refused to have any confidence. I ran my hands over my head again, then laid down to take a nap.

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