Mistress took me to the side of the house, finding the garden hose and using it on me. The ice-cold well water was almost more than my body could stand, even with all I had been through. Mistress knew that I was not looking forward to going home. In four days, she had transformed me from a reasonably attractive girl, with long blonde hair and plenty of interested parties, to a sniveling pig. With my newly shaved head and skin caked with filth, I couldn't imagine even the most homely boy being interested in me. I knew I was disgusting. I felt disgusting. And now with my newfound penchant for lesbian pussy, I doubted I could ever go back to anything even closely resembling my old life.
Once I was rinsed of reasonably well, Mistress took me inside. I hadn't been allowed in for two days, and felt more like a farm animal than a girl.
"Samantha. I can't believe how strong you smell even after I hosed you down. Get your ass in the shower and use the razor to shave your head and cunt." She indicated the hallway she had taken me down when I first arrived there. "There's a scrub brush on the shelf. Use it. I don't care if you have to scrub your skin raw, I want you clean and presentable."
I looked at the food on the counter, feeling ever so hungry, but knowing that I was not allowed. Mistress had seen fit to feed me, but my diet was limited to table scraps and whatever I could find outside. Strangely enough, I seemed to have gained weight anyway. The paunch in my belly never having been there before.
I looked at myself in the mirror, and the creature looking back at me bore no resemblance whatsoever to the cute little blonde that had wandered naked into the forest a few days before. I ran my hand over my stubbled head and pussy, knowing that they at least would be dealt with.
The last time I was in here, she had used the clippers on my head, but her instructions were to use the razors, three of which sat new opened and on the edge of the sink. I wet my head and allowed the remaining dirt and filth to slowly dissolve before setting to work with the razor. Part of me wanted to be sick as the razor rasped over my head, reducing the stubble to a glass smooth scalp. I managed to use two razors, having dulled the first one with what remained of my thick blonde hair.
Taking the other razor, I hopped into the shower, the warm water feeling heavenly against my skin, but most especially against my freshly exposed scalp. Reaching through the shower curtain, I grabbed the scrub brush and went to work on my filth-stained skin. I doubted it would even look as pristine as it used to be, but I could at least get it clean. Lastly, I took the razor and with practiced experience, shaved my pussy clean. I had done it so many times, that I knew the curves and folds by heart. It was slick and hairless in a matter of a minute.
With no hair to dry, I was done and dry within a couple of minutes of getting out. As I came back into the kitchen, I found Mistress seated at the small dinette table.
"Well, that's a little better." She sighed, looking me up and down as I came to kneel before her. She ran her hand over my freshly shaven head, enjoying the smooth surface. "I do so like it when a slave follows directions."
I knew she was referring to my having used the razor rather than the clippers when dealing with the state of my head. "Thank you, Mistress."
"Yes. I do like this better than the stubble." She leaned down to sniff at my scalp. "Even smells nice, if I do say so myself." She cleared her throat. "So, my dear Samantha, this is how things are going to go."
She set about explaining just how I was to deal with my affairs back in Boulder. She would, as I had suspected, be coming with me. Fortunately for me, I lived alone, so there would be no awkward encounters with roommates or boyfriends. The unfortunate thing was, I was to be afforded no clothes for the entire time I was back.
It was up to me to figure out just how I was going to accomplish this feat, but seeing as Mistress was allowing me the chance to wrap up my life, I thought myself lucky. By the time we had started, it was already growing dark, and I was more than pleased to be concealed by the cover of night.
I had never in my life driven a car, completely naked, but that was exactly what I was doing. Mistress was in the back seat, amusing herself with my predicament as one trucker after another would lay on their horn as they looked down at me. I suppose I should have been used to it by the time we exited the interstate, but as the streetlights of Boulder began to illuminate the inside of the car, I became painfully aware of just how exposed I really was.
It was a small car, low to the ground, so almost any other vehicle that pulled up beside us would have a full view of at least my naked breasts, if not the rest of me. Mistress seemed to be taking it all in from the back.
"I thought you liked being naked, slave?" She chided, as I turned away from a man in a Camaro, beeping his horn and yelling out the window.
"I do, Mistress. I just don't want to get arrested." Which was true. I tried to imagine trying to explain my behavior at a police station, not to mention my rather unorthodox appearance at that moment.
We finally got to my apartment, an upper on the west side of town. It was pretty quiet when we got there and I only hoped that my downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Woods, was either asleep or not at home. I pulled into the driveway and up to my usual spot. I could plainly see the lights shining out of the downstairs windows, so I knew that Mrs. Woods was probably up watching TV.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Mistress prodded. "Are we going in, or what?"
As quietly as I could, I opened the door and hopped out, followed by Mistress, who was busy pushing me towards the side door. I knew Mrs. Woods always checked on me when I came in at night, more to make sure that it was me, and not some kids up to no good.
I quickly inserted my key into the lock, and hurriedly made my way past the downstairs entrance, and had made it past the landing before Mrs. Woods popped her head out of her door.
"Is that you, Samantha?" She called out, turning on the light in the hallway.
"It's me, Mrs. Woods," I said, nervously.
"Where have you been? I've been bringing in your mail, it's on the landing dear. Everything all right?" I worried that she might actually climb the stairs, so I let Mistress into my apartment.
"Everything's fine. I've just been out of town for a few days, is all." I thought I better show my face at least, and try and calm her down. I poked my head around the stairwell wall. "I'm okay."
"Dear God! What happened to your hair, Samantha?" Her eyes were as big as saucers.
I had completely forgotten. Thinking on my feet, I came up with what I thought was a reasonable explanation. "Donated it. You know, like St. Baldricks."
"Oh, well, that's so charitable of you. I can't get over how different you look, my God." She went on.
"I really need to... well, have a good night, Mrs. Woods." I disappeared up the stairs, hoping that she hadn't noticed my nakedness as well as my bald head.
"Don't catch cold with that head, honey. You should get a hat." She called out, just as I closed the door to my apartment.
Mistress had already made herself at home, and had lounged on the sofa in my living room. "Sorry about that, Mistress."
"Forgot you were bald, din't ya." She drawled, my immediate reaction was to spring a leak between my legs. I put my hand down to catch the little bit of pee that escaped. "Y'all handled it. Good. Y'all get down and lick that off the floor like a good slave."
Without thinking, I dropped to my hands and knees, my tongue shooting out of my mouth, lapping up the salty liquid as well as that which landed on my hand.
"That's a good little pig." She sneered.
I'd been following her orders for days, so it came as second nature not to question her authority over me. I stood up, licking the pee off my lips with my tongue.
"Okay. First things first." Whyn't you go git all your legal stuff, y'all know, papers, bank records, checkbooks, and the like." Mistress demanded.
I nodded, disappearing into my bedroom. This was where things were going to get extremely real. While I was fumbling through my file cabinet, trying to gather everything she had asked for, I heard her in the kitchen. I assumed she was getting a drink or something to eat. I couldn't remember if there was even anything in the fridge.
When I returned, my arms full, I found her in exactly the same place. "This should be everything," I explained, carefully setting the stack of papers on the coffee table.
"Okay, little 'un. Get out that checkbook for me." She demanded.
With a certain amount of angst, I reached for it, opening it to the most recent page. I looked down at the balance and grimaced. It wasn't a lot, but it was all I had.
"How much?" She asked.
"Two thousand, seven hundred sixty-eight dollars and forty-five cents," I answered, haltingly.
"Y'all write out a check for a penny less'n at." She reached out, handing me a pen.
My heart was beating out of my chest as I wrote, knowing that I was about to hand over all the money I had to her. At the same time, of course, the humiliation was driving my arousal to new heights. It was the only thing that kept me sane. "Who should I make it out to, Mistress?"
"Ah, ah, ah, you naughty lil' piggy." She scolded, slapping my exposed but cheek with her open palm. "Y'all just leave that empty, now."
I handed back the pen with the check which I had carefully torn out of the book. For whatever reason, I felt like I needed to enter the amount into my register, but then realized the absurdity of it.
