Naughty Nancy
Naughty Nancy – Billd@Microserve.com (Billd)
Nancy and Greg had been going out with each other for over two years now, and had been living together for just over a year. The only major problem they had was that Greg spent an inordinate amount of time locked in that damned room of his playing with that stupid computer. She wondered not for the first time, just what the hell he could possibly be doing with a computer that was so important that he could spend so much time with it. He had made the rules clear when she first moved in that he was not to be disturbed when he was in the room, and after one accidental intrusion on her part, he began to lock the door while he was in there so that she could not have any more such accidents.
It was Saturday and Greg was working. Nancy had the day off and decided to utilize the free time to catch up on some house cleaning. She started vacuuming the living room and worked her way through the house. Soon she was in the computer room, and found herself staring at the computer while she idly ran the vacuum back and forth. What was it that he did on the damned thing she wondered? Unable to resist temptation, she turned off the vacuum and pushed the power button on the computer. She had no experience at all with computers, and sat staring at the screen wondering what she should do next. A feeling of trepidation gripped her as she wondered if she would mess anything up. What if she did and Greg found out about her intrusion into his privacy? Her finger rested lightly on the power button as she debated the wisdom of toying with the machine further. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her and she began clicking on various icons with the mouse unaware of what she was doing, or what the different screens that popped up in front of her meant. After a long time of doing this she eventually came across a screen which resembled a sort of phone book. Several numbers, obviously phone numbers, were listed on the screen each with an accompanying name. Most of these names had a BBS at the end. Towards the bottom of the list was a number with a name in front of it, and a notation in parentheses (Internet). She had heard of the Internet as had virtually everybody else in the country by now, and wondered what the proper procedure was to get on it. A few more minutes of clicking around, and she learned how to get the modem to dial whichever number on the list was desired. She clicked on the Internet number and hit dial. She heard the modem dial the number and heard the connect signal. A series of lines ran across the screen, ending with a flashing line in front of the word “login”. What does that mean? Frustrated and anxious to keep going, she called a friend that she thought might know what to do. The friend explained to her what login meant as well as password. When she hung up the phone her frustration turned to outright anger. How could she ever guess what his login name and password were? She wanted so much to see what it was he did on the Internet. Dejectedly she typed in Gregor at the login prompt. Password popped up on the screen. She typed in his last name. The message ‘login failed’ came to the screen followed by the login prompt again. Refusing to give up she tried again. Again the message. Her determination grew. Again and again she tried to guess his login name and password. Finally after an hour of dogged persistence, to her amazement the screen said ‘login successful’. The screen began to flash and cycle through several messages which she couldn’t keep up with, then finally stopped on a screen which said something about email. She knew what email was also having heard a lot about it on TV etc. She pushed a few buttons on the keyboard and suddenly a message filled the screen. Her jaw dropped. her eyes fairly popped out of her head. She read the email over and over again unbelieving. A sick feeling settled into her stomach. Her mind reeled. A thousand thoughts seemed to swirl through her head, colliding with each other, giving her the beginnings of terrible headache. She turned off the computer and walked out of the room in a daze.
She soon found herself walking around the house never seeming to go anywhere in particular, rereading the email in her mind. How could she face Greg knowing what she now knew? How could he hide such a thing from her for so long? What’s it all about in the first place? Greg seemed like such a perfectly normal man. how could he have fooled her so convincingly for so long? Should she confront him with her new-found knowledge? How could she ever look him in the eyes again knowing what she knew? All these questions and more whirled around in her head making her feel sicker and sicker with each passing minute. She got dressed and left the house determined to go have a few drinks and attempt to sort it all out.
Several hours and many drinks later, she reached a decision. Now all she had to do was pull off the greatest acting performance in history. She steeled herself, and headed for home. Greg had already locked himself in the small computer room by the time Nancy got home. She stood staring at the door to the room feeling a sense of disgust and fear. She knew what he was doing in there now. She wondered once again how she could have been so wrong for so long. She went to the kitchen and started fixing dinner in the hopes that the activity would help take her mind off of the whole thing. Fifteen minutes later, Greg emerged from the room smiling and friendly, for all the world the perfectly normal man she had always thought he was. She went into her act. She kissed him warmly and hugged him, then returned to her dinner preparations, making small talk while she worked. A half hour later the two sat across from each other at the table eating and chatting as though all was normal. It was working. Her acting was better than even she could have ever imagined. He seemed to have no idea that in the back of her mind, she now viewed him in a wholly different way.
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Several weeks passed without event. Nancy had started to sneak into the computer room every chance she got, and read message after message of Greg’s email. She soon discovered that he also participated in a newsgroup called alt.sex.fetish.hair. After a while she learned how to get to the group and began reading not only the various messages he posted to the group, but also every other message on the group which dealt with Greg’s particular interest. She was shocked to find so many other people seemed to share Greg’s interest in female hair cutting. It wasn’t long before her feelings of disgust for Greg’s obsession softened and she found herself wondering more about what causes a person to develop such an interest. All the posts she read shared a common factor. All of the people who posted the messages seemed to derive sexual arousal from the shearing of women’s heads. Often she would find herself unconsciously stroking and twirling her long brown tresses as she read the stories, and oddly enough found herself feeling slightly aroused. She wondered if her arousal was due to the daring involved in actually doing any of the things described in the stories, or was it merely the graphic descriptions of the resultant arousal the participants would share? She couldn’t be sure. She did however come to realize that her initial reaction to her discovery that Greg had such an obsession were harsh and unfair. After all, with so many people who seemingly shared his fetish, she began to think that Greg’s obsession was not as abhorrent as she initially thought.
One day, while Greg was out shopping for Xmas gifts for her, she logged onto the net and went to the newsgroup. There, to her astonishment, was a story posted by Greg about a fantasy hair cutting scenario. After reading only the first few lines, Nancy realized that she was the real life female upon whom this fantasy story was based. She read the story intently, paying particular attention to the feelings of raw sexual arousal that the fictitious male experienced as a result of the shearing he was giving the imaginary woman. To her astonishment, half way through the story Nancy felt an orgasm surge through her body. She couldn’t believe what had just happened to her. Never in her life had she ever even thought of getting her beautiful long hair chopped off. Yet here she was reading a story by her beloved Greg, knowing that it was her hair that he was fantasizing about cutting, and feeling the full measure of arousal that he himself must have felt as he wrote it. A shudder of fear ran through her. She couldn’t allow this to happen. She couldn’t begin to understand and appreciate his feelings about this. It was too dangerous. She turned off the computer and began looking around for anything that she could do to take her mind off of the story and her subsequent arousal. She felt so confused. But always her mind kept coming back to the story, and one thought that seemed to steadily grow in her subconscious. She walked around the house as if in a dream, visions of Greg, scissors in hand, shearing her hair off like a man possessed. Another orgasm rocked her body, and to amazement she looked down to find the fingers of her right hand massaging her clit. She didn’t even remember taking her jeans and panties off. Yet there she was, naked from the waist down, fingering herself into orgasm. Her mind reeled. This was all too weird. She had to get a grip on herself. There was no way she could actually ever go through with it. No way she could ever let Greg chop all of her lovely locks off. For that matter, there was no way she could ever even let Greg know that she knew anything about all this. To do so would be to betray herself to him for having invaded his privacy. No she thought, she had to forget all about this. She had to get a grip on herself. Greg must never know that she not only knew of his fetish, but that she now seemed to share it. She must never let Greg know that she now wanted to live out the fantasy that he so graphically described in the story that she had just read. She turned on the stereo and cranked up the volume. Hopefully some good old loud rock and roll would drive the thoughts and images from her mind.
Two hours later Greg walked through the door carrying several large packages. These he placed in the bedroom closet shouting instructions to her that she was to stay away from the packages under threat of serious consequences. A few minutes later he was locked once again in the small computer room. She knew what he was doing in there, and she felt a mixture of fear and arousal in the pit of her stomach. She whispered a quiet prayer that he would not discover her treachery. An hour later she announced that dinner was ready, and he emerged from the room with an obvious scowl on his face. They sat silently eating dinner. Several times she attempted to strike up a conversation, only to be answered with an openly hostile grunt. Her mind raced with possible explanations for what she had done. She knew the jig was up, that she had been caught. It was obvious from the grim look on Greg’s face. Not being able to stand it any longer, she asked him what was wrong. His face grew red, lines of anger created ridges and crags across his forehead and cheeks. His eyes squeezed themselves into narrow venomous slits. In a hoarse, seething whisper he spat at her, “You know perfectly fucking well what’s wrong!”
She sat in silence for a long time, not daring to say anything. She knew that anything she might have said at that point would have only served to increase his ire. She allowed ten minutes to pass in silence before she finally managed a feeble apology. he simply sat staring at her, saying nothing. Eventually she worked up the courage to ask, “How did you find out?”
“Does it really matter?” was the simply reply.
“Listen honey, I’m so sorry.” The words came in pleading tones. “I didn’t mean to do it. I just went in there one day to vacuum and my curiosity got the better of me. The next thing I knew I was on the computer. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do it.”
“How the hell did you figure out my login name and password?”
“I don’t know! I just started typing things in, and the next thing I knew I was in.”
“Well I hope you’re proud of yourself! You’ve managed to violate my trust in you. And now you probably think I’m some kind of freak or something.”
“No ! I’ll admit that at first I was pretty freaked out. But the more I read, the more I came to understand your fetish, and the more I came to realize that it’s not as weird as I first thought.”
“Well that’s certainly comforting to know. I can’t believe you did this. Now what am I supposed to do? How do you think I should feel about you going behind my back and invading my privacy?”
“You have no idea how sorry I am Greg. I swear I didn’t do it intentionally.”
“Yeah right!”
“How did you find out?”
“I just had a chat on irc with a friend of mine who wanted to know why I haven’t responded to any of his email in so long. It wasn’t hard to figure out that if he was sending me email, and I wasn’t getting it, that someone else was. And since you’re the only other person with access to my ‘puter, it had to mean that you had somehow found a way to access my account.”
“So now what?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been so pissed and embarrassed in my life. I wish you hadn’t done this.”
“I can only say I’m sorry so many times honey. ”
“Ok, so you’re sorry! But it doesn’t change the fact that you now think I’m some kind of weirdo or something. And it doesn’t change the fact that you betrayed my trust.”
“Well I’ve already told you that I don’t think you’re a weirdo. I may not totally understand what exactly it does for you, but I don’t think you’re a weirdo. As for betraying your trust, I can only say I’m sorry, and hope that you can forgive me. It’ll never happen again, and I’ll do anything to win back your trust.”
Greg looked up at Nancy, and with a face as grim as a man facing death, said simply, ” We’ll see.” A cold shiver ran down Nancy’s spine. Greg’s voice and manner seemed ominous when he uttered the simple “We’ll see.” Her mind raced with thoughts of being shorn and humiliated. After all she had read in the various email messages to Greg, and his several posts to the newsgroup, she was all too sure of what he meant.
“Look Greg. If you can’t forgive me for what I’ve done, then just say so. I told you that I am sorry, and that I don’t think your fetish is weird. The way I see it, it’s a no harm-no foul situation here. I wasn’t thinking anything in particular when I said I’d do anything to make this all up to you. But I know you were thinking about something very definite when you said ‘we’ll see.’ And I’m sorry, but I cannot ever, and will not ever do what you are thinking.”
Greg levelled a pair of cold, unforgiving eyes upon her. “Well then there is nothing left to say. It’s obvious that I can’t trust you ever again. You feel that you should be allowed to invade my privacy as you have, and not have to suffer the consequences for your actions.”
“No. Not if what you mean by suffering the consequences for my actions means letting you cut my hair off. I’m sorry. But I have a job to think about, and my family, and my own self esteem in general. We can’t make ends meet on your income alone, and if I allowed you to do what you want, I would definitely lose my job.” Then before she even realized she was saying it, the words just seemed to fall out of her mouth, “True I did think about letting you do it, or I should say that I think I can understand how it could be erotic, and the idea does seem to turn me on. But there is more to think about here then just what if anything it would do for one or both of us.”
A wry sardonic smile seemed to cross Greg’s face at those last words. He put his jacket on and headed for the door. She asked him where he was going, but got no answer. Soon after he left, the gravity of the whole situation settled down upon her full bore. She couldn’t help but feel that she had lost him. That it was only a matter of time now. Why did she ever go messing with that damned computer in the first place? Hindsight is indeed 20/20. Then she thought of how she out and out refused to go through with what she knew he was thinking. It was a reflex reaction she knew. The clear and sudden reality that he was planning in his head to make her give up her hair as atonement for her indiscretion filled her with terror. Now as she sat alone, fearing that she had lost the one man she had ever truly loved, and knowing that she had only hours before been thinking how erotic it would be to live out in reality what he had written as fantasy, she regretted having taken such a staunch position. She paced back and forth nervously wondering if there was any way to make things right between her and Greg. If there was any way she could let him know how sorry she was for what she had done. Anything other than surrendering her hair to him. She found herself torn between the common sense side of herself which told her that there was no way in the world she could ever do such a thing, and the half of herself that knew she now found his fetish to be nearly as erotic for her as it was for him. She went to the computer room and once again read the story which he had written only yesterday. Again she found herself getting aroused as she read. She walked to the bathroom and regarded her reflection in the mirror. She tried to picture herself with the kind of haircut that Greg had described in the story. Her fingers knotted themselves into her long lush hair, pulling it up and back, exposing her ears and neck. She tried to imagine the sides being clippered to a quarter of an inch up to an inch above her ears. Tried to imagine the top shorn to a uniform inch. The back shaved close to the same level as the sides. Her knees went all wobbly, her hands began to shake. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and told herself that she would do it. When Greg came home she would tell him that she was prepared to do whatever he wanted to make up for what she had done. The decision made, she was surprised to feel a sense of calmness wash over her. She had resigned herself to her fate.
As 9:30pm came and went, Nancy felt dread in the deepest recesses of her soul. Greg had walked out without a word, and for the first time, she feared he was gone for good. Just as that thought entered her brain, she heard the door swing open then close again. Her fear that he would never return was quickly replaced by a mixture of fear and excitement of a different nature. ‘This is it’ she thought to herself. The moment of truth. As soon as he came into the bedroom, she would tell him that she had decided to let him cut her hair.
She could hear him shuffling around in the living room and called out, “Greg? Is that you honey?”
There was no answer. She called out again, “Honey?! Could you come in here and talk to me please?”
The bedroom door swung open. Before she could utter a single word, Greg grabbed her by her right arm and strongly urged her out of the bed.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?”
Still he was silent. She felt the cold steel on her wrist at the same time she heard the half dozen or so faint metallic clicks. Her right arm was pulled behind her back followed quickly by the left, and again she felt the cold steel and heard the metallic clicks. With blinding speed he had cuffed her hands securely behind her back. She began to struggle which caused him to grab her shoulders firmly and push her forcefully in front of him. They emerged from the hallway into the living room where she could see clearly now what the shuffling noises were. He had pushed the couch against the wall leaving a large open space in the middle of the living room where he had set up an impromptu barbers station. There in front of her sat a chair and in front of it a folding card table upon which had been set a comb, scissors, clipper, various attachments, a razor, shaving cream, and hanging on it’s edge a wig of long brown hair. Her mind reeled. She had decided earlier to let him cut her hair, but now that he was forcing it on her, terror took a firm grip on her. She started to scream unintelligibly. Her screams were cut off by a strip of silver electrical tape which Greg now affixed over her mouth. She was pushed roughly into the chair where her cuffed hands were secured to the chair by a second pair of cuffs which were in turn fixed to the chair back. She felt a soft material touch her left ankle and lash it to the leg of the chair. Her right ankle was secured in the same fashion. He walked away for a minute, and then reappeared brandishing a large pair of fabric shears which he used to cut away the oversized t-shirt that she used as a nightgown. Her panties were shorn away as well leaving her cuffed and naked in the chair.
She no longer wanted to let him cut her hair. She thought she could go through with it on her own, but now that he was forcing it upon her she wanted to bolt from the chair. She struggled fiercely and futilely to extricate herself from the chair. The reality of her situation settled over her, and knowing that she was trapped, her body went limp. With unseeing eyes she saw Greg lift the scissors from the table. She felt the cold blades touch the back of her neck, then heard the sickening crunch as the blades severed the first large lock. The crunching sound filled her ears as Greg worked his way straight across the back to the left side of her head in one continuous cutting motion. Three foot sections of hair began to fall into her lap. Within 10 seconds he had shorn the back and left side of her hair to chin length. She felt the scissors touch the back of her head midway up. Again the crunching sound filled her ears. All fear melted away as the reality that it was too late to stop it now struck her. And with it came a warm rush of arousal. The scissors sheared their way through her once long hair as lock after luscious lock fell in silent retreat from the scissors. Her eyes, which had been closed, now opened to see Greg reaching for the clipper. As if in mental debate, he stood staring at the four attachments which lay next to the clipper. His fingers rested on the first and largest attachment, then with a flick of his forefinger went sailing off towards the wall. This was followed in quick succession by the next second largest attachment, then the third, and then with a scant second delay, the fouth and final attachment went flying. He snapped on the clipper as he lifted it from the table. The loud pop startled her, bringing her back momentarily to reality. A split second of fear surged inside of her, replaced almost instantly by an overwhelming sense of arousal as the low hum of the clipper put her in an almost hypnotic state. She became more acutely aware of her head than she had ever been in her life. The slightest touch on her scalp sent a new wave of arousal through her body. She felt the clipper touch her forehead and slide back across the top of her head. A torrent of hair rained down past her eyes. The most powerful orgasm of her life rocked her body sending her to another mental plain. She was no longer aware of her body at all. She never felt the subsequent strokes of the clipper. Never saw the remains of her hair fall to the floor. By the time she emerged from her reverie, Greg had already lathered her entire head, and was more than half way done shaving it completely smooth. The sound and feel of the razor scraping across her scalp caused her to have a second equally powerful orgasm. By the time she came out of it again, her head was completely bald, and she was no longer bound to the chair. Greg was nowhere to be seen. She looked at the floor. Her hair lay in a wide arch all around the chair. She knelt down and grasped a large clump of it. She felt a hand lightly touch her bare pate, and looked up to see Greg smiling broadly at her.
“Next time I won’t be so rough.”
“You can be as rough or as gentle as you like honey. Just please don’t wait to long to do that to me again. From now on, my hair is yours to do with as you please.”
Never before had Greg made such passionate love to her as he did that night. The sex alone made the haircut more than worthwhile. She smiled inwardly, knowing that never again would her head be adorned with hair.
The End
Billd (Clipper)
If thy hair offends thee. cut it off.
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