#some rtas deep cuts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lsds-blog · 7 years ago

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Accidents will happen...

The curtain of the cubicle drew slightly aside and a head popped in. “Jen, we've got an RTA coming in, fractured tib fib, concussion, possible internal."

“I'll be on it in two minutes..." She was just about done with her patient, applying a dressing to an elderly woman who'd fallen and badly grazed her knee. She was glad to see the back of her; she complained constantly when the wound was cleaned, no matter how delicate Jen tried to be.

She washed her hands and prepared for the arrival of the trauma case. She felt adrenaline start to flow. This was the type of nursing she liked. She had to act quickly, to use all her resources. It was exciting and part of her needed the thrill that dealing with serious injury brought.

She was ready just as the paramedics arrived. “Nathalie Vernon. Another car came through a red light and hit hers side on at a junction. She's been in and out of consciousness but good pupillary response." It was a pretty serious fracture and the injury was still bleeding. She'd need emergency surgery, but her colleagues were addressing that. Jen's immediate concern was the possibility of spinal or head injuries. The woman was barely conscious now as she carried out an examination. Her head was supported fully by a spinal board and Jen slid her hands along her neck and could feel no irregularities or swellings. As she reached further under the base of her skull she felt the edge of a fabric cap. The woman was wearing a wig. It was very convincing and surely expensive, long straight black hair. Anyway, it had to come off, she needed to look for injuries. A nursing auxiliary removed the wig as Jen stabilised her head. She was completely bald but Jen could see a faint even shadow showing her head was shaved. “Make sure you put that wig somewhere safe, it must have cost a fortune," she said to the auxiliary.

Her shaved head made the examination easier. There was no sign of injury, no bruising or redness of her scalp. “Would make my life easier if everyone with a potential head injury were bald," Jen thought to herself. She noticed that Nathalie had quite a lot of piercings in her face and ears, but was so focussed on her job that it barely registered consciously. Jen ordered a head and neck x-ray as a precaution then moved on to examine Nathalie's body. Her blood pressure was depressed and there was a possibility of internal bleeding. Jen cut away her clothes. “Nipples pierced too and tattoos," she thought dispassionately. It made little impact on Jen when she was at work; personal feelings were put aside as she focussed on making sure that any injuries were diagnosed. She made an examination of her abdomen and chest and had a good feeling. No discolouration, no swelling other than a deep bruise visible under the tattoos on her right arm; that would need an x-ray too. She was sure the woman would make a good recovery once her leg healed.

A surgeon arrived to assess her. “Oh, she's bald. Quite pretty too, is it alopecia?"

“No, her head's shaved but she did wear a wig," Jen replied. She was pretty too. It was the first time Jen had actually looked at her face properly, rather than as a series of sites of potential injury. Jen detailed her examination to the surgeon, who seemed satisfied.

“We'll get her x-rayed and down to theatre. I think she's had a lucky escape, apparently the car looked like no one was going to get out alive."

A few more routine procedures were completed and that was the end of Jen's nursing involvement with Nathalie Vernon. She'd soon learnt that it was best to keep a professional distance from trauma patients. Her job was to get them through the initial minutes or hours, then pass their care over to others. She'd called intensive care to find out how surgery had gone (“very well, no spinal/head/internal injuries, fracture repaired), and that was sufficient to put her mind at ease. She could now move on and turn her attention to other patients.

The following day Jen was looking through a supply cupboard. She jumped with fright as she saw what she thought was a black cat curled up at the dimly lit bottom of the cupboard, then started to giggle as she realised her mistake: it was the wig that RTA patient had been wearing. She lifted it up and gently smoothed it out. It was real hair. Jen couldn't resist trying it on, although it wasn't a good fit over her own long red hair which was pulled back tightly in a bun. She looked at herself in the mirror, grinning to see herself with jet black hair and a heavy fringe. She looked like a goth. She liked dressing up and imagined how shocked people would be if she dyed it for real. Then she guiltily pulled the wig off, fearful that someone would see her and accuse her of abusing a patient's property. She decided she'd return the wig to its owner once her shift was finished, which was within the hour. She found a cardboard box and coiled the wig inside it as best she could without it getting tangled.

Nathalie had been transferred to a surgical ward. When Jen walked in she saw she had two visitors. Both were tall, slim, glamorous. They looked like models, but there was something slightly... disreputable, Jen thought. Like Nathalie they both had visible piercings, more than would usually be seen on a fashion model. One of them had a tight shiny top that appeared to be made of latex. Jen approached the bed feeling a little shy.

“Hello Nathalie, we met before but I'm sure you don't remember me. I'm Jen, I work in A & E and I was one of the first nurses to help you when you got here yesterday. I'm afraid not all your belongings got transferred up here." She passed the box over to her.

Nathalie seemed unconcerned by her baldness being exposed. Jen was fascinated by her appearance. She didn't have any make-up on and she had no eyebrows; in fact, the only hair she appeared to have was eyelashes. Despite this, Jen had to admit that she was quite beautiful. She opened the box and smiled. “Thank you Jen, my favourite wig. Would you help me to put it on?"

Jen's instinct was to leave but she found she couldn't say no. She smoothed the wig out and slipped it onto Nathalie's head. She could feel the soft dark stubble that had grown over the last day. She adjusted it to straighten the fringe and smiled at Nathalie. “I should go now, I'm sure you want to chat to your friends."

Nathalie insisted that she stay a little longer as her friends were just leaving, and indeed, they rose and said their goodbyes. “I want to thank you for saving me. I'm told I could easily have died."

Jen dismissed her concerns. “Your leg was broken quite badly but otherwise there was nothing too serious. It's the emergency services you should be thankful to. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

“Sore. My neck feels like something snapped. The morphine helps though." She turned her shoulders against the pillow uncomfortably. “I think I'm going to have to take my wig off. It will get tangled against the pillow. Could you be an angel and put it in the cupboard for me?" Jen did as she was asked. As the bald scalp was again revealed she remembered her surprise the previous day to discover Nathalie's baldness. “I hate having stubble, I usually shave every day but I can't manage it. Could you do it?"

Jen felt uneasy. “I could arrange for a barber to do it for you." Nathalie grimaced.

“Oh that would be so impersonal, I'd hate it. I'm sure you could do a good job for me. I'd be very grateful."

Jen found she couldn't say no and pulled the curtains to around the bed. She found a razor and some shampoo which she mixed up to a thick lather and rubbed it over Nathalie's scalp.

She sighed softly. “Oh that feels good. You know the opiates are making me feel a bit high so please forgive me if I seem a bit disinhibited."

Jen laughed. “I work on A & E, it's not easy to shock me any more." She nervously pulled the razor over the top of her scalp. The stubble came away and an area of smooth skin was exposed.

“Jen, do you ever have to shave women for surgery. You know, if they have to have brain surgery or something?"

“No, I never did that, although sometimes I've had to cut someone's hair when there's head trauma so that we can see the wound and keep it clean."

“Oh that must be so exciting," Nathalie purred. “I bet you love to see the tears in their eyes when they realise their treasured hair has all gone."

“Oh no, Nathalie, it's awful. I... It's not like that at all..." She rinsed the razor in a bowl of hot water and looked down at the bared top of Nathalie's head, feeling very confused. Something was stirring in her, unpleasant thoughts that she mustn't allow. She could never be so cruel as Nathalie was suggesting, could she?

Nathalie laughed. “I'm so sorry, the morphine. I think I'm a bit delusional. You should try it sometime. But maybe you already have? I know a lot of medics like to try out the drugs they have access to."

“No Nathalie, I stay off the hard drugs. Cider is my only drug." Despite Nathalie's claims to be intoxicated, it was Jen who felt confused. Shouldn't she be offended by accusations of drug abuse and sadism? But somehow she was enjoying Nathalie's company; something about her intrigued and excited Jen.

Nathalie was in pain as she lowered her head to allow her nape to be shaved, but bore her suffering with good grace. “Jen, you're doing a great job, I feel so much better. Would you do it every day for me?" Jen started to mutter apologies. She didn't get involved with patients. “Oh please, I won't be able to do it myself and I'll look awful if I grow stubble." Jen agreed, immediately regretting her inability to say no. Or was she indulging some need of her own? She had to confess that she found it a little arousing to shave Nathalie.

She gently wiped a damp cloth over the scalp to wipe away the remains of the suds. Nathalie rubbed her hands over her head. “Oh Jen, thank you, it feels so good, lovely and clean. I hate having any hair." She looked at herself in the mirror. “I look so awful without make-up!"

“You look just fine. I can't imagine very many women who'd look so nice without make-up and hair."

“Jen, are you flirting with me? I thought you were supposed to be a professional!" Nathalie said with mock concern. Jen blushed, all the more because she realised that there was some truth in Nathalie's accusation. She excused herself with some embarrassment.

“I have to go, Nathalie, but I will pop in tomorrow to see how you are. I'm off duty late afternoon so I'll see you then. You won't be here more than a few days though. Once you're a bit more mobile I'm sure you'll be off home."

Jen had a strange dream that night. She was in charge of an institution that was part school, part asylum, part orphanage. It was a huge old house, in ill repair with plaster falling from the walls. She entered a hall which had a long table of polished oak running the entire length, each place set with cutlery. The walls were covered with hunting trophies, the mounted heads of animals, some of which looked almost human. At the end of the room was a young woman, about eighteen. She was wearing a white cotton hospital gown and was tied to a chair. She was sobbing and apologising. “Please Miss, mercy, mercy. I'm not a bad girl, I won't do it again."

Jen felt anger at the girl's transgression. She had to be punished. In her hand Jen saw a huge pair of shears. She grabbed a handful of the girl's hair. It was beautiful, thick soft waves, almost black, with hints of red where the light reflected. She pulled hard at the hair, making the girl cry out as her head was forced down. She slid the shears into her hair so that they rested against her scalp, then closed the blades. The girl's nape was shorn. She clicked the blades over the remains of the hair until it was as short as possible, uneven, ugly, bare scalp showing through the dark tufts. She was laughing.

Jen woke with a start. The dream had left her filled with excitement. She reached down and rubbed herself with two fingers. She was wet. She let her imagination continue the dream and she imagined shaving the girl, making her head as smooth as Nathalie's. She slid a finger inside herself. She shouldn't indulge these fantasies, she didn't like cruelty, yet she couldn't resist. She was so excited. She thought of shaving Nathalie's head and how she would do it again and she fingered herself until she climaxed.

During her early shift Jen found she was distracted and irritable. She was shaken by the intensity of her dream and the pleasure she'd taken in her cruelty. And she kept thinking about Nathalie. That was bad. Risky. There were strict rules about socialising with patients and she was on dangerous ground. The nurses on the ward knew her too so her visits would be noted. She had to end this. She'd go to see Nathalie later, she'd made a promise after all, but only to explain that she wouldn't be back to see her again.

When she arrived at the ward Nathalie was sitting in a wheelchair beside her bed. She was asleep, her head fallen sideways against her shoulder. Jen sat quietly, unwilling to rouse her. She looked peaceful and besides, Jen was enjoying studying her face. She was wearing make-up now, quite a lot of make-up actually, dramatic and flamboyant; she looked very different to how Jen had remembered her from the previous day.

A trolley clattered past and Nathalie stirred. “Jen, you came back, I'm so... ahhhhh..." She was suddenly in evident pain as she tried to raise her head. “My neck's gone into spasm, I can't lift my head," she wailed.

Jen immediately sprung to help her, supporting her head and massaging her neck muscles until the pain had passed. She loved the feel of Nathalie's scalp in her fingers.

“Thank you. I've got quite severe whiplash apparently. I'll have to try to make sure I don't fall asleep with my neck unsupported, that was agony. Just lucky my little angel Jennifer was here to help."

Jen smiled awkwardly. “It is Jennifer isn't it? Or is that the name you only get called when mummy is telling you off?" Jen's smile vanished. “Did I say something wrong?"

“No... it's... my parents died in a car crash. Six years ago." Nathalie made the apologies that everyone made when Jen revealed this. “It's ok, you weren't to know." Nathalie wanted to know what had happened. It surprised Jen, most people looked embarrassed and couldn't wait to change the subject. She found herself eager to talk about it. She'd been sixteen and it had totally derailed her. Everything stable in her life had gone. She'd had to move to a new town to live with an aunt and uncle and their daughters. A new school, no friends and she'd gone wild. She started drinking every day, staying out, sleeping around, cutting herself, getting into trouble, letting anyone exploit her. Her salvation had been a teacher who took her under her wing and helped her to address her anger. She'd ended up having a brief affair with the teacher too, her first lesbian encounter. Anyway, it turned her around. She'd decided she wanted to be a nurse and turn her feelings about her parents' accident into something positive. It had spurred her into wanting to help others.

Nathalie had held her hand throughout the story. “The worst thing is that I have no roots any more. I was horrible to my nieces, I was so envious of them. I wanted them to be as unhappy as me. I regret it so much, but because of that I've more or less lost contact with them, and my aunt and uncle. I haven't seen them for years now. No one in my life knew my parents and I haven't talked about them in years. And I miss them so much."

Nathalie smiled at her. “I'd give you such a big hug if I had full use of my body. I owe you one when I'm better. I'm sure your parents would be very proud to see what a fine young woman you've grown into and how you overcame your problems."

Jen shrugged apologetically. “I was supposed to be here to help you and I've ended up going through all my traumas. I'm sorry, I shouldn't burden you like this." Nevertheless, Jen felt very pleased that she'd been able to verbalise her feelings and confide in Nathalie.

“I'm always here to listen. I don't want us to have any secrets. And if you do want to help me... how about getting rid of this stubble?"

Jen could hardly refuse now. She pulled the curtains around the bed for some privacy, even though Nathalie had now been moved to a room by herself.

“I've got a special treat for you. My friends brought in my good razor." Nathalie took a wooden box from her bedside cabinet and passed it to Jen. She opened it and saw an ebony handled cut-throat razor.

“I've never used one of these! I'll probably cut you to ribbons. Can't we use the safety razor?"

Nathalie wouldn't hear of it. “You'll be fine, just be delicate and take your time."

Jen dribbled some perfumed oil over Nathalie's head (a gift from one of her friends) and gently massaged it into her scalp. The sensation thrilled Jen; it was unmistakably erotic. The stubble was very short and soft, prickling slightly when she ran her finger against the growth. She'd never imagined that she could be attracted to a bald woman. She tested the razor, barely touching it to the scalp, drawing it across the surface. A little oil accumulated on the blade, peppered with tiny dark specks.

It was easier to shave Nathalie now she was sitting up in the wheelchair. She sighed as the razor went over her nape. “Oh, that feels so good. Don't forget to shave my neck, that gets fuzzy too." Jen obliged her. “This is such a special treat. I love being shaved by someone else, but it happens very rarely. And I can't use a straight razor on myself, at least not up the back."

Jen didn't dare admit that she was enjoying it just as much. “So tell me about the teacher you got into bed with. Was she the games teacher?"

Jen laughed. “Nooo, she was an art teacher." She shuddered as she remembered what her games teacher looked like. “She wasn't much older than I am now. She was... lovely, she really saved me. But we both knew it had to stop. She could have ended her career. I never kept in contact, but I often think about her. I'd love to know how she is."

Jen wiped Nathalie's head clean. “All done, nice and smooth. But... that brings me to something related. I'm not allowed to socialise with patients when I'm off duty and I really shouldn't see you any more, Nathalie. I think this will be the last time we meet."

Nathalie looked pensive. “But you're not my nurse any more." Jen was adamant. There were clear guidelines. “I don't want to stop seeing you. And I usually get what I want. You'll come and see me once I've been discharged. We can be discreet then. No one will know."

Jen couldn't refuse. She wanted this. It was a risk but she was sure there were ways to make it work. She nodded her tacit agreement. Phone numbers were exchanged.

“I should be home in about a week. I'll contact you then. Now, do I get a parting kiss?"

Jen couldn't take her eyes off Nathalie's lips now. She had rings at either side of her lower lip and a stud in the centre of the upper. What would it feel like to press her own lips against those piercings? She needed to find out. She touched her lips gently to Nathalie's, afraid of the delicacy of this wonderful being who'd been battered and bruised so recently. She cradled Nathalie's head, her fingers caressing her bald nape. Nathalie showed none of her reticence. She seemed determined to remove any lingering doubts about the nature of the relationship she wanted with Jen. She forced her tongue between Jen's lips, then slid the lower surface of her tongue over Jen's. The presence of a tongue stud took Jen by surprise (it was a pink acrylic stud and virtually invisible) but the expertise with which Nathalie used it made Jen feel like she was melting. Time seemed to stand still for her and she felt giddy when she at last stood. “Oh, Nathalie..." she repeated over and over, breathless.

“I'll be in touch, Jennifer. Now you'd better be on your way."

Jen pulled back the curtains and tried to compose herself and looked around suspiciously to see whether anyone had been watching. She moved to the door of the room and said, a little too loudly “OK Nathalie, good luck. I won't be back again. Goodbye."

“You're a lousy actor," Nathalie laughed.

The next few days were agonising for Jen. She'd surreptitiously check ward records on the computer to see if a discharge had taken place, but still only saw a provisional date and she knew those meant nothing. When the planned discharge was put back by an additional three days, Jen was beside herself. Had something gone wrong? An infection? A clot? They were all real possibilities. Nathalie could be seriously ill. Accessing her medical notes was too risky though; the system recorded the log in of anyone who viewed them. She'd just have to wait and worry.

As Jen was waiting at the train station she recognised one of the nurses from Nathalie's ward on the platform and couldn't resist the opportunity to try to get an update. She barely knew her, although she'd had a brief chat with her a few months previously at a training course. What was her name? Kathy? Katie? Karen? She walked over and said hello, then began some small talk about how things were going. After a few minutes of ward gossip she finally grasped the nettle. “That woman we had in from the RTA was on your ward, wasn't she? Nathalie Vernon was it? Did she go home yet?"

“Oh, the baldy? Nah, the OTs are doing some adaptations in her home so we've had to keep her in a few days," Kathy or Katie or Karen replied. There was a little discussion about occupational therapists blocking beds before returning to a discussion of Nathalie.

“That baldy's got us all intrigued. We all reckon she's some kind of hardcore porn actress. She's had loads of female visitors, all really stunning but fetish-y looking."

“Oh yeah..?" Jen tried to play it cool but was suddenly emotional. Was Nathalie really a porn actress? And did she have other girlfriends? She realised she was feeling jealousy.

Kathy or Katie or Karen was relishing a good gossip. “We've all been googling her to see if we can find her page, but she's hardly going to use her real name, is she? Probably Mistress Natalya or something." Jen was starting to get annoyed; it wasn't very professional to talk about a patient like this. But then... she was dreaming of far worse breaches of professional ethics.

Scanning the computer became a daily ritual. Eight days after Nathalie's accident the discharge date was filled in. Today's date. That meant she'd gone home. “Yes!" Jen muttered triumphantly.

As soon as she got home she called Nathalie, nervous, worried, unsure what to say. The call was answered almost immediately. “Hello, is that Nathalie?"

“Hello, Jen, did you know I'm finally home?" Jen admitted that she'd been checking each day. “So you couldn't wait to talk to me? I'm very pleased and a little flattered. When are you going to come and visit. Everything is so exhausting for me and I need my personal nurse."

Jen giggled embarrassedly. She would love to help nurse Nathalie back to health. It was agreed that Jen would visit on Saturday and stay until Sunday night.

Jen set out early Saturday morning. Nathalie lived in the suburbs of a city close by the town where Jen lived, but she'd never been to this district. She looked at her map as she made her way in through the little side streets. It seemed a pleasant neighbourhood: close to a park, mostly older houses, well maintained gardens. She took a few wrong turns before she arrived at Nathalie's house. It was a detached house, probably mid nineteenth century. Not huge but a very comfortable size for a single woman. She located the key safe next to the door and took out the key to let herself in, as she'd arranged (Nathalie's lack of mobility meant it took her minutes to get to the door). She was trembling as she entered. “Hello, Nathalie? It's Jen."

She followed the voice and entered the back room. Nathalie was sitting in her wheelchair. She noticed that a bed had been installed in the room.

“Come and give me a kiss!" Nathalie yelled. Jen was only too happy to follow this instruction. She knelt beside the chair and embraced Nathalie. She wanted the kiss to last forever as once more Nathalie caressed her tongue with the piercing. Nathalie suddenly groaned. “Oh, my neck... sorry, it goes into spasm if I turn my head for too long."

Jen blushed and sighed. “I've missed you. I couldn't wait to see you. Are you letting your hair grow?" Nathalie's scalp was covered in a layer of dark stubble, a full week's growth.

“Growing it? Oh, never! No one would shave me in the hospital. My barberette deserted me. I've been waiting for her return to get me cleaned up. Will you do it now?"

Jen smiled. “I think I'd like you to grow your hair." Nathalie put her finger to Jen's lips.

“You're not allowed to make suggestions about my appearance. It's non-negotiable. If you're with me, you're with a bald woman, OK?"

Jen smiled and nodded. “So does that mean you don't make suggestions about my appearance either?"

Nathalie laughed heartily. “Oh, Jennifer, you have so much to learn!"

They went through to the kitchen and Nathalie rose from her chair, insisting that she did it on her own, despite the obvious pain it caused her and the awkwardness of movement; the cast extended above her knee and permitted no flexion. Jen knew that the physiotherapists would be proud of her; retaining her independence would help her to recover her mobility much sooner. Nathalie settled herself onto a stool and pulled off her short dress. She was naked under it.

“Ha, don't look shy now! You saw everything when I was unconscious, didn't you?"

“Well, you weren't unconscious but you were a bit... flaky. But... that's different. I see all sorts of things in my job, but I have my nursing head on. I don't ever look at a patient as a person..."

“Oh, that's very holistic!" Nathalie yelled.

Jen looked embarrassed. “I didn't mean it like that. You've got me all worked up. It is like seeing you for the first time, Nathalie. You've got so many tattoos, haven't you?" Nathalie nodded.

“I'm getting more though. Do you like them." Jen stroked her fingers over Nathalie's brightly coloured shoulder.

“It feels so smooth, I can't tell where the tattoo ends from touch."

“No, it doesn't scar. Some of the Polynesian tattooing methods do cause the lines to raise up. I guess you don't have any tattoos then."

Jen shook her head. “No, no tattoos."

Nathalie pouted. “I don't believe you. Let me check you to see if you've been hiding tattoos from me." Jen looked confused. “Get undressed, I need to examine you!"

Jen felt very vulnerable as she unbuttoned her blouse. She'd never undressed before someone in broad daylight before. Her eyes scanned the window, checking to see if strangers might be able to see. The garden was ringed with trees which seemed to block prying eyes. Nathalie noticed her unease. “No one can see... Except me, of course. Now turn around... Arms up... No, you were telling the truth, no tattoos anywhere. Apart from that you look pretty good."

Jen felt like she was being damned with faint praise. Nathalie laughed. “Don't sulk. You look very lovely. And if you give me a nice shave I might even give you another kiss." Nathalie had clear instructions. Her stubble was to be buzzed short with clippers before shaving. That would mean she'd have to be caped; showering was a big problem since she couldn't yet manage stairs and she didn't want to be covered in itchy hairs. She gave Jen instructions on where to find everything. Most of the items were in the bathroom and Jen found them exactly where they were supposed to be. She was very tempted to go exploring in other cupboards but the fear of what she may discover won out. She quickly went back to Nathalie.

Jen put the cape around her neck then tucked in a tissue. “If you'd kept shaving me each day none of this would be necessary," Nathalie complained. “Now I'm going to be all itchy. You do know they've told me to use the local swimming pool if I want to get a shower? It's so humiliating. You'll have to stay here until I'm mobile again so that you can shave me every day."

“Oh, I'd love to but I couldn't possibly," Jen said. “It would take me ninety minutes to get into work, and I have to work nights sometimes."

“Don't you drive?" Jen admitted she did but couldn't afford to run a car. “Then you can borrow mine. I've got a loan car until the insurance comes through to get a new one. You can be my chauffeuse too." Jen's natural caution was warning her that moving in with a virtual stranger wasn't a good idea. She looked thoughtful.

“Is there a problem?" Nathalie asked. Jen shook her head. She couldn't think of any reasons to say no. “So you'll move in and be my nurse?"

“Yes Nathalie, just till you're on your feet."

Nathalie looked delighted. “Oh, we'll have so much fun together! Now shave my head..."

Jen turned the clippers on and shifted them awkwardly in her hand as she tried to compute the most efficient way to hold them. She pressed them up Nathalie's nape and saw the stubble fall away. There was a rectangular area sheared to the skin now. She was fascinated to see how easily they cut through the hair and rubbed the shorn area to feel how short it was.

“Have you ever had your hair cut with clippers?" Nathalie's voice brought her out of her reverie.

“Me? Oh no Nathalie, I've always had long hair."

“Wouldn't you like to have a shaved head too? I've noticed the look in your eye when you shave mine."

Jen's heart was thumping. “Oh no, Nathalie. I'd hate that. I like my hair too much." What she felt as she thought about being shaved by Nathalie was a repulsion, a great fear. At least that accounted for ninety per cent of her emotions. There was also a fascination, a desire to try it. And that feeling was making her grow wet.

She tried to concentrate on clippering Nathalie to exorcise the confusion of emotions, but it only intensified her thoughts. She recalled her strange dream and how in its aftermath she'd imagined herself as the one being punished. She looked at the back of Nathalie's head, now shaved, pale, delicate, erotic. Would her own nape look so beautiful without hair? She shifted the clippers in her hand and erased the dark hair from Nathalie's temples, then around her ears. Jen was panicking. What was she getting herself into? She knew nothing about this woman but she seemed to have unsettled everything that Jen thought about herself.

“You know that the staff on your ward called you the baldy?" Jen asked.

“I know. I was more mobile than they thought and I listened in on some of their conversations."

“And they thought you were a porn star or something..." Jen laughed, but it sounded forced. She needed to know if it were true. She paused but Nathalie said nothing. She finally found the courage to add “What do you actually do?"

“Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. Film, photography, modelling, hair, make-up, camera, lighting, editing..."

“Porn..?" Jen gasped, feeling terrified that maybe that the gossips had guessed correctly.

“That's such an ugly word," Nathalie smiled. “I prefer to think of it as erotica. I make erotic art. Erotica for women made by women. Although some of it does fall into male hands and there's nothing we can do about that," she added ruefully. “Oh, what's wrong, Jennifer. Don't look at me like that! I didn't imagine you as a prude."

Jen was never good at concealing her emotions and her face betrayed her upset. “I don't know, I just... I always though of it as exploiting women."

Nathalie made her sit down so that they could converse more easily. “We make all our products together. No one is forced, everyone is well paid. And don't tell me you never look at erotica." Jen admitted that she did. “Well if it's good enough to look at then you should accept that there's nothing wrong with producing it, as long as it's well made and the performers are treated with dignity."

Jen had to admit that logically Nathalie's argument was sound, but retained a deep seated resistance. She was falling in love with a woman who made sex films. Could she allow herself to do that? Could she stop it even if she wanted?

Nathalie seemed conciliatory. “I'm sorry if I've shocked you. I know for some people it's something they prefer not to think about. I'm sure once you're over the shock you'll see that what I do is no cause for shame. Now can you finish shaving me, please Jennifer."

She did as she was asked. The clippers whirred over the top of Nathalie's head, cutting the hair so finely that it was a mere grey shadow now. She wiped a damp cloth around the scalp and neck to rid them of the dusting of clippings that had accumulated. Then she massaged the remaining stubble with the scented oil. The fragrance was intoxicating, musky, spicy.

“Let that soak in for a few minutes, it will soften the hair," Nathalie said. “Could you check my leg, see if everything is healing?"

Jen knelt on the floor to examine the leg. The front of the cast was open and a metal scaffolding protruded from Nathalie's shin, anchored to the bones to fix them in place as they knitted. There was a long wound along her shin which was still sutured. “It looks to be healing fine. I'm sure there's no infection."

“It's beautiful, isn't it? I love seeing how the metal penetrates my skin. I wish I could have something like that fitted into me permanently." Jen looked at Nathalie. She looked serious. “You may kiss it." Jen found herself obeying. She put her lips next to the injury.

“Kiss it better..." she whispered. Like mum used to.

“I'd love to be part human, part machine," Nathalie continued. “It's a fantasy of mine. I love medical interventions too. Part of me enjoyed all the things that were done to me in hospital. I just wish I'd been more conscious of what was going on after the crash. Will it scar?"

Jen looked up at her, thinking how she had such weird ideas. “Yeah, you'll have a pretty bad scar here I'm afraid. It's unavoidable with an injury like this. Such a shame..."

Nathalie laughed. “I like scars too. Although maybe you're right... It will look ugly. I could get my leg tattooed though, that would conceal it nicely."

Jen's head was reeling now. Nathalie seemed to live in a world far removed from her own, of vivid sexual fantasies, bizarre and fantastical. If she were to get closer to Nathalie would she be drawn into these ideas? Did she want that?

As Jen started to razor away the stubble, Nathalie questioned her about her accident. “Was I catheterised? And who put it in?"

“Yes, I put it in."

“Mmmm. So you've already touched me! Did it turn you on?"

Jen blushed. “I don't get turned on when I'm treating patients. That would make my job impossible. And I think they'd sack me."

“I want you to catheterise me again. I want to feel it this time. And I want you to get turned on."

Jen had to put down the razor. “It wouldn't be nice. It hurts going in, you were much better off having it done with all the meds in you."

“Jennifer, dear, I'm a grown up. I know what I like, and, trust me, some of the things I adore you can't even conceive in that pretty little head of yours." Jen was under no illusions of the truth of this; she'd seen plenty to convince her that Nathalie had appetites that went far beyond convention. “Anyway, don't tell me that you wouldn't enjoy causing me some pain. I can see how much you love shaving me. Thinking how good your hair looks next to me once I'm bald. I think you have a sadistic streak, Jen. Don't try to deny it."

Jen was flustered. She couldn't read Nathalie well enough to tell if she were joking. And she thought back to her dream, how thrilling it felt to be cruel and wondered if Nathalie hadn't guessed a truth she didn't dare admit to herself. “I don't like suffering," she said, not entirely convincing herself. “And I only shave you because it's what you want."

Nathalie laughed. “And you usually do it very well, but you seem very distracted today. Can you get on with it?"

Jen took the razor again and started to shave away the stubble from the top of Nathalie's head. She had to work slowly as her hands were trembling. She was distracted. Her thoughts raced as she thought about all the ideas that Nathalie had planted, simultaneously repulsed and fascinated. She felt like she was on the brink of an abyss. If she entered this world would she ever be able to leave?

She moved her fingers nervously over Nathalie's scalp to check that it was smooth. “Don't forget my eyebrows, Jennifer," she was reminded. “I keep those shaved too."

Jen stepped in front of Nathalie. “Why do you do that? It looks odd to have no eyebrows, and you draw on new ones with make-up."

“Jennifer, I've told you not to question my decisions." Jen nodded and started to razor away the stubble from her brows. She found she had to draw the skin tight up her forehead. Once it was taut she could easily shave away every trace of hair. She looked at Nathalie, how beautiful she was, pale and hairless. She tried to remember her as she was when she'd arrived at the hospital, long dark hair, fully made-up, but the images were fragmented and vague. She could only visualise her as bald.

“I'm in charge here. That's how it is and how it should be. And you like me to be in charge, don't you?" Jen nodded and looked down shyly. What did that mean precisely? Was she letting Nathalie take control of her? Surely that wasn't a good idea. How could she let a bald woman who seemed to have the craziest sexual appetites be in charge? Well, she could maybe see how things developed. It was just a little game. If things looked to be going too far she'd run. “Say it, Jennifer. Say you'll obey me in everything."

Jen looked into Nathalie's eyes. She meant it. “Yes Nathalie, I'll obey you," she whispered. Suddenly everything felt very solemn. Jen removed the cape and Nathalie rose painfully from the stool. “Kiss me to seal your promise," she ordered. Jen placed her lips to Nathalie's. She was quivering with excitement and Nathalie knew it. She parted her lips, inviting her lover to slide her tongue in her mouth. Nathalie obliged. Jen curled her tongue back and Nathalie's slid over it, the piercing sliding from side to side, raising Jen to ecstasy. She sighed and moaned, pulling Nathalie tightly against her, loving to feel her heavy round breasts press against her own.

She felt Nathalie's fingers touch her clit and sighed. “You're going to cum on the count of five," she was ordered. Nathalie's fingertips moved in a circle, accelerating, faster and faster. As the count reached five Jen couldn't have held herself even if she'd wanted to. Her moan turned to a shriek as she was engulfed in a glorious orgasm.

Nathalie licked her fingers. “You're mine now Jennifer. We're going to have so much pleasure together."

As the two women ate breakfast, Nathalie remarked on the good weather. “We can go for a walk in the park this afternoon to make the most of it. What's that look for? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

“No, Nathalie, not at all. It's just that I can't be seen with you. I shouldn't be seeing you. I could lose my registration."

Nathalie tutted, exasperated. “We can't go on furtively hiding behind closed doors. We'll go out but you can wear a mask."

“A mask? You're kidding?"

It appeared she wasn't. As Jen awkwardly backed the wheelchair down the ramp at the front door she was wearing a leather executioners hood which covered all of her head (Nathalie had tightly pinned her hair back) except for her eyes and the lower part of her face. Even her lips felt disguised as Nathalie had painted them in a crimson cupid bow. Nathalie was also masked, her eyes surrounded by ornate black lace and she was wearing a blonde bobbed wig. Jen could hardly bring herself to look at her without a sigh of lust escaping her lips.

“Oh god, are you sure this is a good idea?" Jen whispered as they made their way into the street. “We'll terrify the local kids. Someone will call the police."

Nathalie seemed amused. “I think they've got used to my eccentricity around here. Besides, it's quite a bohemian area, there are lots of arty types so they're a bit more tolerant. I tell them I'm a performance artist. Which is true... in a way."

The anonymity the mask provided was welcome for Jen as everyone they passed stared. Nathalie relished the attention, smiling, waving, blowing kisses. Eventually Jen started to join in, smiling at anyone who stared. She found the mask gave her licence to be free of inhibitions. She could be whoever she wanted to be while her face was hidden.

Nathalie received a call as they were passing the large lake in the park. She sounded irritated; clearly the call was bad news. “Leave it with me, I may be able to sort it." She ended the call.

“I'm making a film tomorrow. One of the actors has pulled out. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her. I'd never worked with her before and I could sense she wasn't sure about the role. Would you like to be in it?"

Jen was astonished. “Me, acting? Is it..." She tried to remember the right word. “Is it an erotic film?"

“Of course it is. I don't make rom-coms. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you could do it."

“I couldn't. I'd be terrible. And what if someone saw me?"

Nathalie looked unimpressed. “Didn't you promise to obey me? Well I'm no longer asking. I'm telling you that you're going to do this."

Jen looked horrified. “But Nathalie, I'll get into trouble if anyone sees me. There are codes about professional behaviour..." She felt Nathalie's finger on her lips.

“Hush! No one will see you. And so what if they do? You can make far more money through this than you do in your current job. Stop worrying and start enjoying your life."

The topic was no longer open for discussion. Nathalie refused to compromise and shut down all of Jen's attempts to discuss it. After a long walk in the park they ate a late lunch in a café where a young waitress couldn't stop staring at the two of them. “We could take her home and make her our little pet," Nathalie said. “She's fascinated, isn't she?"

Jen wasn't sure. “We just look... bizarre. Everyone is staring."

Nathalie's face took on a mischievous look. “I can tell when someone thinks I'm a freak and when someone is lusting. I'll prove I'm right."

She started to wheel her chair toward the girl. “I wonder if you could help me? I've had an accident as you can see and my friend needs some assistance to help me onto the toilet. Would you be so kind?"

The girl's face reddened with embarrassment. She looked around as if seeking someone else to take her place, but finally nodded her acquiescence. She held the door to the disabled toilet open as Jen backed in the wheelchair.

“I'm Nathalie and this is Jennifer. And you are?"

“Zoe... I'm Zoe." Jen could almost hear the girl's heart beating. She stood with her back pressed against the door, clearly beside herself with fear to be trapped in such a confined space with two masked women. She was very petite and Jen found it hard to guess her age, but couldn't believe she'd passed twenty. She had long black hair and a pleasant face; big dark eyes and high cheekbones. Jen tried to put her at her ease.

“Hello Zoe. It's so good of you to help. Just stand on the right side and we can help Nathalie to stand." Jen removed the bracket which supported Nathalie's cast and helped her to rise. She turned and put her arms around Zoe.

“Can I hold onto you, Zoe? I can't balance and you wouldn't want me to fall, would you?" Suddenly Nathalie was holding Zoe tight to her, staring down into her face. Jen was left trying to move the wheelchair out of the way, no easy task in the cramped space. “You have such lovely eyes, Zoe," Nathalie continued. “Doesn't she, Jen?"

“Yes, she's very pretty," Jen said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. That's not always easy when you're wearing a leather mask. Zoe looked like she was about to faint as these two women started to flirt with her.

“Th... th... thank you," she stuttered.

“Your hair, is it dyed?" Nathalie asked. She nodded. “Such long hair, so lovely. Jennifer's is even longer than yours. Do you want to know a secret? I'm wearing a wig. Would you like to see me without it?" Jen looked at Zoe and thought she was going to cry at any moment. She glanced up into Nathalie's eyes, but couldn't maintain eye contact. “Take my wig off, Jennifer, Zoe wants to see how I really look."

Jen slid the wig from Nathalie's head, exposing her bald cranium. Zoe muttered “Oh... oh god."

“I need to sit down, help me over to the toilet," Nathalie ordered. Jen looked around for somewhere to store the wig. Seeing nowhere suitable she eased it onto her own hooded head. Zoe and she assisted Nathalie to drop down onto the toilet. She groaned theatrically as if in some pain and Jen knew she was making a fuss for Zoe's sake. She slid up her skirt, much higher than was necessary, and revealed that she was without panties. Above her mound was tattooed a large fleur-de-lys, heavily outlined in black. Zoe looked away embarrassedly. Nathalie was revelling in the girl's discomfort. “Oh Zoe, am I so ugly that you can't bear to look at me?"

Zoe was almost squirming now. “I... I just... you should have some privacy."

“Did you hear that Jennifer? She can't bear to be with us. Am I so hideous now that you've seen I'm bald? Or is it my tattoo that you don't like?"

“No Nathalie, please don't think that. You're very beautiful..."

“You've upset me Zoe. If you mean it come and show me." Zoe was only two paces away but seemed to take an eternity to approach. When she was in range Nathalie took her hand and placed it on her scalp. “It's nice and smooth, Jen shaves me every day. She won't allow me to have hair. I was so upset when she first shaved me but after a while I started to like it. Do you like how it feels, Zoe?"

Zoe's eyes seemed bigger than ever. Her irises were thin rims around hugely dilated pupils. She nodded mutely. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak but no sound issued. She raised her other hand and now all of her fingers caressed Nathalie's scalp as if she were handling something precious and delicate. Nathalie was clearly enjoying the sensation, a serene smile spreading over her face.

Zoe looked nervously at Jen. “Did you really shave her head?" Her voice was a quiet croak.

“I did," Jen confirmed. She'd planned to say that she hadn't forced Nathalie to do anything but suddenly she wanted to play along. Zoe thought she was a dominatrix and suddenly that seemed to give her a mystique and power that thrilled her. “Bad girls don't deserve to have hair," she added, wondering where that had come from.

Zoe whimpered. “Please don't do anything to me, Jennifer," she pleaded.

“You need to tell Nathalie what you think of her tattoos, Zoe," Jen said very calmly. The mask seemed to allow her to become an entirely different person.

She looked down at Nathalie's pubis, not without embarrassment, which was increased as Nathalie chose this exact moment to allow a stream of urine to escape, sighing with relief.

“It's a lovely tattoo," Zoe whispered. “I like tattoos and I want to get one. I'm saving up to get one."

“Would you like to kiss it?" Nathalie said. Jen found herself putting her hands on Zoe's shoulders and urging her to kneel. The floor looked clean but it was a toilet floor and she sensed Zoe's humiliation. She willingly placed her lips on Nathalie's tattoo.

Nathalie stroked Zoe's long hair and cradled her head. “You look too young to get a tattoo." Zoe protested that she was nineteen and was studying at the local university. “Well in that case I'll give you my tattooist's card. If you let her know I sent you she'll give you a very good rate. But you have to promise to come and show Jennifer and me your tattoos whenever you get new ink."

“Oh, I will. Thank you, Nathalie."

“Now be a good girl and lick me clean." Zoe looked terrified and disgusted. She was clearly reluctant to do it but the sight of Jen moving closer made her comply. Her tongue moved gently over Nathalie's shaved slit. She moaned as she tasted urine but didn't dare disobey. “What a good girl you are," Nathalie cooed. She raised Zoe's head and their lips met. Jen shuddered as she imagined that the girl's lips still tasted of piss, but somehow that just seemed to make the scene more erotic. “And are you going to kiss Jennifer too? You wouldn't want her to feel hurt, would you?"

Zoe stood and turned to Jen without a word. Jen put her arms around her. She was very slender and half a head shorter than Jen. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth. Jen could feel her hot breath on her cheek. She looked into Zoe's eyes and could see it wasn't only fear that made her do this. There was desire and passion there too. Jen realised that she'd never felt more alive as she let her lips press heavily against Zoe's. She pulled her boyish frame tight to herself, so tight that she felt like she would crush her, and kissed her roughly. She heard gasps and moans which it took her a moment to realise were her own. She ended her embrace feeling shocked and guilty.

Nathalie wasn't finished yet. She beckoned Zoe to kneel again. “Is it ok if I keep a memento of our meeting? I'd like to take a lock of hair." Zoe nodded her tacit agreement. Nathalie took a tiny set of Victorian nail scissors from a case in her handbag. “Jennifer will hold up your hair. We wouldn't want it trailing on the floor. Now put your head in my lap, Zoe."

She lay her head sideways over Nathalie's thigh as Jen played with her locks. Nathalie separated a thick strand from the right side of her nape. It was almost two inches in diameter. Jen's eyes widened. She couldn't possibly cut all that hair?

She could. The scissors snipped right to Zoe's scalp. Jen could see her expression change as she felt snip after snip. There was a large almost-bald area on the side of her nape now as Nathalie allowed her to stand again. The thick dark strand was bound with an elastic band and coiled into an envelope. Zoe rubbed at her nape in obvious shock. She wouldn't be able to wear her hair up without the cropped area being very evident.

“I'll treasure that, Zoe," Nathalie smiled. “You know, you should get your hair cut shorter. It would make you look so much more grown up. I'm a trained hairdresser, so get in touch if you decide you want a makeover."

Now Nathalie was assisted back into her chair. Contacts were exchanged before the three of them made their way back into the public world of the café. As Jen wheeled Nathalie out of the café she smiled back at Zoe, whose face betrayed a complex mixture of feelings. Jen wondered if those few brief minutes had ignited something in the girl which would set her life on a new course.

Back at Nathalie's home Jen couldn't stop going over the events of the day, particularly the encounter with Zoe. She felt as elated as she did as a little girl when Christmas day arrived.

“I can't believe she did everything you asked. She licked you clean. The poor little thing was terrified."

“To be fair, Jennifer, she was more scared of you. Whenever you came near her I could see her panicking," Nathalie replied.

“Only because you told her that I'd forcibly shaved you!"

Nathalie laughed. “And didn't you love going along with it?" She pulled Jen close to her on the sofa. “She will definitely be back for more. When she gets in touch do you want to make her bald?" She pulled the fastenings loose on Jen's dress and started to kiss her breasts. Jen was intoxicated. She felt high, the sensation of Nathalie's pierced lips on her was delicious and the fantasies of taking control of Zoe pushed her into a sort of delirium.

“Oooh, Nathalie, could I really make her as bald as you," she whispered breathlessly. Her hand reached down to her soft bush and she started to rub at her clitoris. Nathalie lifted her hand away.

“I tell you when you can touch that. You do remember you promised to obey me? Do you still want that? I'm starting to think I misjudged you, that you're dominant."

Jen squirmed as her hand was pulled away. Nathalie's control made her even more excited. “I don't know, I love being yours, but I loved the power I had over Zoe too. I'm confused." She kissed Nathalie's head as she continued to suck at her breasts, taking a nipple in her lips now.

“You're a switch. It's not so rare. You enjoy both roles, which is great." She took Jen's nipple in her teeth and closed her jaws till Jen moaned, then started to caress the tip of the nub with her tongue stud.

Jen wailed. “Oh, I'm going to cum, Nathalie, is it OK for me to cum?"

Nathalie said nothing, she kept on with her tongue, then reached between Jen's thighs and placed two fingers over her clit. As she moved them in circles she pushed Jen to orgasm. She licked her fingers then started to rub Jen's juices over her own clit and soon attained a climax of her own.

Nathalie groaned. “Oh I hate being injured. There's so much I can't do. I can't wait until I'm recovered. They tell me it could be months though. Months till I can really show you what I'm capable of."

Jen hugged her. “Oh Nathalie. You've already shown me things I couldn't have dreamed. I know how determined you are and you'll be on your feet sooner than they say. Just don't overdo things. When I tell you to go easy, listen to me. We don't want any setbacks."

“My own little nurse looking after me," Nathalie smiled. “I'll listen to your medical advice, but you don't think you can ever dominate me, do you? If I even suspect you're thinking about it I'll show you how mean I can be when my temper comes out."

“I'll be a good girl, Nathalie," Jen replied. She thought of laughing off the threat but sensed that Nathalie was entirely serious.

“We need to get you ready for your first film role, Jennifer. I think we should do something with your hair. Pre-Raphaelite curls. I'll set it on rags overnight. It will look gorgeous tomorrow."

Jen had to admit that she loved the idea of Nathalie styling her hair. She'd always loved playing with her hair and had always lavished a lot of attention on it. It was waist length, light red, almost dead straight (it did get a little wavy if it got wet, which she hated). She was sent to wash her hair in the shower and returned to Nathalie with all the styling products that were necessary. Nathalie pulled the towel from her wet hair. Jen knelt before her and bowed her head as Nathalie combed out the tangles. She dried it till her hair was just damp, combed out a section and sprayed it, then started to twist it around a strip of rag.

“This is an old fashioned way that people used to curl their hair. Sometimes old ways are best. You have so much hair it's going to take a while." Jen felt Nathalie knot the first rag to bind the curl tight to her head and smiled.

“As long as I'm with you it can take forever. I might need to get up to stretch my legs though."

Nathalie tutted. “You'll have to get used to a bit of discomfort. I bet you get cross when patients complain all the time don't you?"

To take her mind off the difficulties of kneeling for an extended period, Jen asked Nathalie what the film was about.

“You'll play an innocent who stumbles across a sort of weird orgy. It'll be like a classical myth, where someone stumbles across the gods at play and is transformed as a punishment. You have read Ovid? Oh, what do they teach at schools these days?

“Anyway, you'll be transformed into one of the women who you spied on. So that's pretty much all the plot... not that the plot is so important to most of our viewers."

“How will I be transformed?" Jen asked, intrigued.

“Well, you'll be dressed in something very risqué, we'll redo your hair, make-up. And you'll get to behave like a slut, which I can see won't be hard for you."

“Oh, but I won't be able to do it for a camera, Nathalie!"

A shriek ended Jen's complaint as Nathalie tugged on the strand she was twisting. “You'll do as the director tells you! Because I'm the director and you promised to obey me. Now stop stressing that you'll be recognised. Once you've been through hair and make-up you'll look entirely different."

“Yes Nathalie," Jen muttered. “Where are we going to film it?"

“There's a derelict hospital on the moors. We've cleaned up a few rooms ready for filming. I should have been acting in it but the accident has ruined that plan. Some of my friends are going to play the women who abduct you. Don't worry, they'll make sure you enjoy yourself."

They were up at dawn the following day. Jen had slept upstairs in Nathalie's large bed, Nathalie downstairs in the hospital bed she'd been provided with. Jen went to brush her teeth and smiled as she saw herself with the rags still tied into her hair. She looked quite ridiculous. She heard Nathalie calling and made her way downstairs.

“Come on, hurry, we're running late. It's going to be a very long day's shoot. And we can't set off till you've shaved me."

Jen oiled Nathalie's scalp before helping her to get into her wheelchair. She found she was feeling more adept with the straight razor, not worrying constantly about making a cut. Within a few minutes Nathalie was once again fully smooth. “Eyebrows, too, honey?" she asked, and shaved them as requested.

Soon they set off in the car. Despite the hurry Nathalie had applied some make-up and looked very glamorous. Jen felt ashamed of the rags in her hair and was glad that no one was about to see her at such an early hour. The car was loaded with heavy boxes and bags: lights, cameras and other filming gear. They drove about thirty miles, down deserted country roads. Jen was glad of the GPS; the tiny roads wound like a labyrinth over the moorland.

They arrived at the hospital. It wasn't visible from the road, just a large chained gate set in a high fence. Nathalie gave Jen the key for the padlock and they entered. The driveway was in poor condition, the tarmac cracked and potholed. The area around was wooded and overgrown with brambles. “We'll get some exteriors of you in these woods," Nathalie said. “The weather is fine and the light should be really good."

The hospital itself was a dismal spectacle. There were several small hut like structures laid out in a grid, then larger barrack-like blocks. A large Gothic revival hall was laid out before them. All looked like a good storm would finish them off. “Why did they build a big hospital all the way out here?" Jen asked.

“It was a mental handicap hospital, as they used to call them. They liked to keep disabled people hidden away. Terrible places. Families could hardly ever visit because it was so inaccessible. Imagine having to live your whole life in a place like this." Jen grimaced.

“It's like my dream," Jen said, more to herself than to Nathalie, but she immediately wanted to know more details. “I was in charge of some kind of institution, I couldn't even say what it was. There was a young girl that I had to punish."

“Oh, how lovely. Did you enjoy it? What did you do to her?"

“It was horrible, Nathalie, a nightmare." She blushed and Nathalie's smile showed that she couldn't deceive her.

There were a couple of cars parked at the side of the hall and Nathalie had Jen park alongside. “We need some shots of the façade and we don't need cars cluttering them up." Nathalie awkwardly dragged herself out of the car and into her wheelchair and Jen manoeuvred her to the front of the Gothic revival building. Jen had to drag the chair backwards up the steps. They entered a large foyer, dusty, damp, mildewed. Nathalie directed her toward a corridor. “There's an office there that we've set up as our base."

The sound of a generator led Jen toward the room. Some makeshift lights illuminated the corridor which was draped with cables. Jen could hear voices. She pushed Nathalie in and saw that four women were already there. They all crowded around Nathalie, making a fuss of her. Two of them were positively Amazonian and Jen was sure these were stars of the production. She thought she recognised one of them.

Nathalie made the introductions. The two giants were Nicole and Olivia, the other two were Julie (camera) and Fran (sound and everything else). “Ella is on her way," Nicole informed Nathalie.

She snorted. “Always the last. Today she's going to get a forfeit. Oh, and this is our star, can I introduce Jennifer?"

Jen smiled and waved, feeling very foolish as soon as she did. How could she even pretend to be cool with her hair tied in rags? “I know you don't I?" Nicole asked. “You came to see Nat in hospital. You brought the wig."

Nathalie spoke before Jen could. “Yes, she did but it's all hush hush. Nurses/patients, all those bullshit rules. So we have to call her... Cassandra."

Nicole groaned. “Another classical reference, is it? Who was she, another ill-starred nymph?"

Nathalie narrowed her eyes. “Actually she was an ill-starred prophetess, but it's a lovely name. Isn't it, Cassandra?"

It took a moment for Jen to realise she was being addressed and she nodded enthusiastically, although she couldn't conceive of herself being called Cassandra. Was it harder to imagine her name being Cassandra than conceiving of herself as an erotic actress?

“Cassandra" started to realise that the day was going to be real work. Everyone did a bit of everything and she was pressed into service to do Olivia's hair. She had bleached blonde hair, straight, past shoulders, layered heavily. Jen was instructed to use straighteners to get it nice and silky. Nathalie was performing the same service (although rather more efficiently) for Nicole, who was brunette and longer haired. Her waves were being tamed. Jen kept glancing over to see how Nathalie handled Nicole's hair and tried to emulate her but could see she was never going to keep up. She was also keen to steal glances because Nicole was extremely beautiful and the sight of her and Nathalie together made Jen feel like she was in a dream. Olivia was very striking too, tall, broad shouldered, narrow waist, fine featured but not as attractive to Jen, although she knew that was just a matter of taste. She felt very plain indeed in such company.

Nicole's hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the top of her head, lots of hairspray being applied to smooth her hair. Nathalie then took over Olivia's styling, putting her hair into a tight French pleat at the back. As she did, Jen sat for Nicole, who blasted her rag-tied tresses with a dryer on maximum heat. “It'll make the curl hold," she explained.

It was now that Ella made her appearance. She was older than the others, Jen guessed mid-thirties (she estimated that Olivia and Nicole were something like her age, Nathalie was four years older), as tall as Nicole but more heavily built, though she had a narrow waist. She had huge breasts, obviously enlarged beyond their natural dimensions and looked utterly terrifying to Jen, although the others greeted her with obvious affection. Her hair was curly and dyed blonde, her darker natural shade visible at the roots. It was cut to her shoulders and Jen thought that she was far more in need of styling than any of the others. Nathalie hadn't missed her need for grooming either.

“Oh Ella, your hair... You could have at least had the roots touched up. You know, you're going to be in the role I was supposed to play. Are you up for something? There was supposed to be a shot where the hood comes off and a bald head is revealed. How about we finally take you bald?" Ella's composure slipped. She looked stunned.

“Come on Ella, you've been saying for ages that you wanted to try bald. Now's your chance. Let go of the curls," Olivia taunted.

Nathalie was enjoying the scene. “You'll get an extra five hundred pounds on your fee. Of course I would film it and get some photos. What do you say?"

Ella tugged at a curl. She was obviously in some turmoil. “Make it eight hundred...?"

“Five hundred," Nathalie replied.

“Six hundred?"

“Five hundred and I let my personal barberette do the shave." Jen gasped as she thought of shaving Ella. “This is Cassandra, she does a wonderful straight razor shave. You're not going to miss out on this chance are you?"

Ella smiled as she eyed Jen. “OK, you have a deal. Nice make-up though if you're going to film."

“Of course. We want you to look your sexy best. Can't disappoint your fans"

Nathalie went to work on Ella as Nicole did the same for Jen. She was given barely any make-up, just a touch of concealer around her eyes and a dusting of powder (“to reduce reflections from the lights"). Then the rags were removed from her hair and the curls teased apart. Her fine hair formed a cloud of curls which framed her face. She examined herself in the mirror; she looked so young, innocent. She'd have liked a little more make-up (she didn't like to be seen without mascara as she disliked her pale lashes) but was thrilled by her hair.

Ella looked more fierce than ever now. Her lips were deep red, outlined with black and Nathalie had given her dramatic black and white make-up around her eyes. Her curls had been blow-dried to give them a little more shape, but it wasn't a very flattering look, somewhat old-fashioned and Jen thought it made her look older. “What should I wear, Nat?" she asked.

“That bra top would be nice. I'll let you wear a cape for the cut. We've got those nice satin ones with the latex collars."

Ella slipped out of her top, revealing her breasts without any self-consciousness. Jen was sure she was the only one present who felt embarrassment. Ella's breasts were huge, the skin pulled tight around the globes, her areolae stretched over a large area at the front. Jen had only seen breasts like these in pictures. She was slightly repulsed but fascinated and, she had to admit, aroused.

A chair was set up, surrounded by lights and cameras. Jen changed into a simple white dress, sleeveless, embroidered around the collar and shoulders. She approached the caped Ella, clippers in her hand, feeling hopelessly out of her depth. Nathalie barked orders on what she should do. “Hold them with the blades at the bottom of your hand, then straight to the middle of her forehead and buzz a strip right down the middle."

“Oh... oh god. Are you sure I can do this Ella," Jen asked nervously.

She tutted. “Just get on with it before I change my mind. I thought you were good at this."

The cameras were rolling and Nathalie called “Action."

Jen flicked the switch. The clippers throbbed in her hand. She ran her fingers through the front of Ella's curls twice, then placed the blades to her hairline. She pulled them toward herself and shivered to see the curls come free. They gathered in the blades, then tumbled down the back of Ella's head. There was a bald stripe on top now, a deep valley in the full curls. Ella stared straight into the camera, her arms shifting nervously under the cape. Jen paused. Was she to continue? The room was silent. She ruffled Ella's curls, then harvested another swath from the top. She was trembling with excitement. The top was bald now, the thick curls reduced to mere stubble. Jen tipped Ella's head to the side and pulled the clippers slowly through the side. She was completely engrossed in seeing the hair buzzed away. The presence of the cameras was forgotten. At least it was until she moved to the side to position herself to shave the back. Nathalie told her to pause as Julie moved her camera to get a clearer shot.

“You're looking good, Ella," Nathalie said. “Doing OK?" Ella nodded and stared straight into Nathalie's eyes. Jen sensed that Ella wasn't finding this as easy as she thought. “Right Cassandra, do the other side, then we'll reset for the back."

Jen flicked the clippers back on, paused till she was sure the cameras were live, then peeled away more of the curls. She could see the shape of Ella's head clearly now. It was smooth and round, very different to Nathalie's more sculptured skull. She buzzed around the ear, rubbing her fingers lightly over the rim before she folded it very gently down, then used the side of the blade to erase the little fringe of hairs that had avoided the clippers. She could hear Ella breathing unevenly and saw the cape move. She was sure Ella was touching herself.

The cameras were moved again to record the hair being shaved from Ella's nape. Jen had to stand in a slightly unnatural position to allow a clear shot, but she soon adjusted. Each breath was audible now as Ella had to keep her head bowed. Jen ran the clippers slowly up the back, shearing from neck to crown in an unbroken stroke. She could hardly contain her arousal any more. She paused to stroke the soft stubble. The touch seemed to take Ella by surprise and she inhaled sharply. “You look so sexy," Jen said.

The last of the curls were severed and Jen continued to buzz the blades over Ella's shorn scalp. She spread her fingers wide over the top of her head and pulled her head back into an upright position. She felt a shudder pass through Ella's body.

Nathalie called a pause. “That was a lovely reaction shot. You didn't cum then did you Ella?"

Ella looked at her sternly. “No, I never. Get me a mirror, I want to see myself." When Nicole held one in front of her, Ella cursed. “What have you done to me?" She tried to lift her hands but gave up when they became entangled in the cape. She curled her lips inward over her teeth. Jen could see she was feeling emotional but was trying to suppress it.

“Ella, you're not going to cry are you? It's only hair, that's what you always said."

She was clearly needled. “No, I'm fine with it. Looks... OK." Her front didn't convince anyone. Jen felt sympathy for her. She'd shaved off Ella's hair without a thought for how it was affecting her.

“It looks great Ella. It makes you look..." She tailed off as Ella glared at her.

“So you want the same, do you, Cassandra?"

“Uh... no, but..."

Nathalie intervened. “Play nice Ella. She was telling you it suits you, which it does actually. And you did a wonderful job, Cassandra, you looked like you were enjoying yourself. I was worried you'd look terrified once the cameras came on but you did us proud." Nathalie pulled Jen toward her and kissed her. “Now we need to lather her up and get her nice and smooth. Let's go quicker, we need to get on with the proper shoot."

Ella took a couple of minutes to compose herself and while she did Nicole mixed up some shaving soap. Once the red lights came on Jen brushed it over Ella's scalp. Ella looked stony faced and Jen sensed her hostility. She covered her scalp with an even layer of white suds then started to tickle at her nape with the brush, the bristles barely touching her skin. Ella lowered her head and moaned slightly, which encouraged Jen to continue. Once she was satisfied that Ella was sufficiently sensitised she folded a towel over her left arm and lifted the razor. The first strokes went up Ella's nape. “Don't move now," she advised.

The razor slid up Ella's neck with a slight rasp from the stubble. Jen wiped the blade on the towel and made another stroke. The scalp looked so pure and smooth now. Jen's nervousness subsided as she became engrossed in the task; she wanted to see Ella's head smooth, hairless, gleaming. Jen moved in front of Ella and lifted her chin so that she was looking up into her face. Ella looked lost. Her composure had evaporated and now she looked surprised that Jen was shaving her with such confidence. The blade slid back over the top of her head, scratching as it removed the velvet stubble. Ella's cheeks flushed with red and she moved her hands furtively under the cape. Every touch of the razor seemed to increase her excitement. Her eyes were fixed on Jen who smiled at her, then formed her lips into a pout and simulated a kiss.

Now that she'd finished shaving Ella, Jen bundled up the towel and rubbed it roughly over Ella's scalp to cleanse it of the remains of the soap. The sensation caught her off-guard and she grunted. Jen felt a prod at her hip and turned to see Nathalie offering a bottle of skin lotion. She took it and squirted a lot into her palm, then worked her hands together before Ella's face. She spread her fingers and placed them on Ella's scalp. Ella closed her eyes and uttered a long sensual sigh. Slowly, gently, Jen applied the lotion to her scalp, front to back, ending with her fingertips massaging Ella's nape. Ella's face was distorted as she was overcome by pleasure. Her body tensed and she remained rigid in the chair. Jen leant forward and placed her lips on Ella's head, warm, smooth, perfumed. She parted her lips and let the tip of her tongue slide from side to side. Ella moaned loudly and Jen suspected she was orgasming, but she held herself so rigid it was impossible to be sure.

Finally Jen rose and smiled down at Ella. Nathalie called cut. Ella pulled the cape free and rubbed at her head. “Oh shit, it's..." She was unable to find the words to express what she felt. She took the mirror again and Jen observed that she was still shocked to see herself.

“You look ten years younger," Jen smiled.

Ella looked at her fiercely. “Just wait and see what I've got in store for you."

“Now, now, Ella, don't be mean." Nathalie was trying to calm her down. “Cassandra did a lovely job on you didn't she?" She stroked Ella's head sensuously and her demeanour changed.

“Oh Nathalie, it feels all tingly. I think I know why you keep yours shaved now."

“And my little Cassandra does a wonderful job, doesn't she?"

“She enjoyed it far too much, the little..."

“Ella! I saw how much you enjoyed it too. We've got it all on camera. Now for once in your life admit that you enjoyed something and thank Cassandra."

Ella rubbed her head. “Yes, you did OK... for an amateur," she finally said to Jen, with an odd smile. Jen could see she was going to be tough to win over.

“Well you'll never guess what her day job is! She's a real nurse," Nathalie announced. Everyone suddenly paid attention. She was astounded by the reaction. It seemed very commonplace given what everyone else here did for a living but for some reason they seemed to find her profession significant.

Julie brought the discussion to an abrupt end. She needed to get on with the exterior shots with Jen (or Cassandra as everyone was now referring to her). Fran and she would work on these as the woods wouldn't allow Nathalie access. Nathalie and the others would start to prepare the interior shots.

Jen enjoyed her first scenes as an actress. Julie and Fran were full of helpful advice, patient when she made a mistake and professional and efficient in their work. She was filmed walking barefoot through the wood, picking flowers. Jen's instinct was to be too demonstrative; she found that Julie praised her much more when she limited her gestures and maintained a neutral expression. The shots took more than an hour and Jen was cold and exhausted by the time she did her last shot, approaching the front of the Gothic revival building and cautiously entering the door.

The interiors were being filmed in an adjacent block, as this was better preserved (“It was the one with the least pigeon shit," Fran explained). Upon arrival Jen could hear that the others were already here and Julie signalled her to remain silent in case they were in the middle of a take. They arrived at the door of a room and waited outside until they could hear that no filming was in progress.

The room had been a shower room and was completely covered in white tiles, cold and clinical, dazzlingly lit. There were various antique medical devices arranged in the centre, but what most astonished Jen was that the three actors were covered head to foot in latex. She had no difficulty telling which was Ella; her body was unmistakable. She wore a surgical green latex suit, marked with red crosses over her nipples, her now bald scalp covered by a tight hood and only her face visible. The others wore white outfits with large red crosses on the front and both had nurse head-dresses attached to the hoods which covered their faces completely. Only their eyes and lips were exposed but she could differentiate them as Nicole's long ponytail hung from a hole in the top of her hood.

Jen felt a genuine fear as she surveyed the scene. The women looked terrifying, faceless demons gathered around an operating table. And who would be lying on the slab but her? She felt a dread growing inside her. Nathalie's welcome distracted her. Julie gave a glowing report on Jen's work.

The next scene was going to be Jen entering the building, then being discovered by Nicole and Olivia, seized and dragged away. Within a few minutes the cameras were set in the foyer of the building and the filming of the scene commenced.

Jen nervously crossed the floor, then Nicole and Olivia appeared behind her, taking her arms. She screamed and struggled, her real terror feeding her performance. It was Ella who called cut. “Far too much!" she said crossly. “I thought we wanted mute and passive? Let's get another take."

Jen messed up take after take. Ella's criticism had hurt her and she lost concentration and she kept missing her marks. When she finally managed a take where she got to the place where she was seized her fear once again gripped her and she screamed. Ella looked on the point of another outburst. Nathalie took control. “Let's have five minutes." She took Jen aside as the others went for coffee.

“You're getting too tense. Here, take this." She held out a pill.

Jen stared at her in surprise. “What is it?"

“Don't worry, nothing dangerous, it will just relax you. It'll make you more amenable which will help you to look right in this role." Jen still hadn't moved, alarmed by the thought of taking drugs. Nathalie placed the pill on the tip of her own tongue then leant forward and kissed Jen. Her tongue snaked into Jen's mouth and flicked the pill onto the back of her tongue. She had no choice but to swallow it or choke. Nathalie seemed intent on making the most of the kiss and soon Jen was moaning as their tongues swirled together ecstatically. “There, wasn't so bad was it?" Nathalie said at last. “Oh, and I love the curls. If I didn't have the bad leg I'd be all over you." Jen giggled shyly. “I'm going to do something to stop you shouting and you won't like it. But... you need to accept it."

Jen looked at her nervously. She couldn't bring herself to say anything and nodded.

Nathalie opened a velvet box and took out a small device which seemed to be two stiff wire arches held together with springs. The ends of the wires were set in rubber blocks. Nathalie used a pair of forceps to squeeze the blocks together and the device opened up like a mouse trap. “Open your mouth and put your tongue out," Nathalie ordered. Jen obeyed but felt panic. The wires slid over her tongue and Nathalie manipulated the device into position. She released the forceps and the wires closed on her tongue, snapping shut with great force. The wires were bent to form teeth-like points and it felt like they were going to sever Jen's tongue. She wailed as the pain grew and gestured for Nathalie to remove the device. Nathalie remained calm and slid a finger into the side of Jen's mouth.

“Bite on the blocks, it will relieve the tension." She had to repeat the instruction before Jen complied. She found when she did that the springs opened sufficiently to stop the pain but not enough to free her tongue. No matter how hard she bit her tongue was trapped by the wires.

“This will keep you from shouting out," Nathalie informed her. “I'm going to leave it in for a while so don't bite too hard or your jaws will cramp up. Chew at the blocks from time to time, it will keep the circulation going." Jen nodded, still feeling stunned that Nathalie had done this to her. Ella came over now. “I've gagged her and she took a pill so I'm sure she'll be fine now," Nathalie informed her. Ella smiled cruelly.

“Oh don't worry Cassandra, I'll take care of you now." She fussed with Jen's curls, preening them back into shape.

Jen was beginning to feel some of the effects of the pill. She felt a little light headed, but not unpleasantly. It wasn't unlike the glow from a single beer. She saw the others return and went to her position for another take.

It soon became apparent that the pill had had more of an effect than she had believed. As she moved across the room she felt giddy and each step seemed to take an eternity. She was sure that everyone would think she was moving too slowly and kept expecting to hear Nathalie shout cut, but she felt unable to act more quickly. She became so focussed on this idea that when she felt Nicole grab her arm she reacted with genuine surprise. Her jaws were still clamped shut and she could only show her shock with her eyes. Nicole and Olivia took hold of her firmly and shepherded her across the room. Everyone was delighted with the take.

“That was perfect!" Nathalie gushed, and even Ella looked pleased. Jen smiled with relief and waited expectantly for the gag to be removed. She was to be disappointed. Everyone now retreated to the room which was dressed as an operating theatre. Jen was instructed to lie on the table while cameras were aligned so that the necessary shots could be obtained.

“I'm not going to tell you what will happen to you next," Nathalie said to Jen. “Just stay in role and react to what happens. I'm sure you'll enjoy it"

Jen sat and nodded as Nathalie spoke to her but found she had to concentrate to take in her instructions. Her thoughts were very fuzzy now. She pointed to her mouth, sure that Nathalie had forgotten about her gag. “No, honey, that stays on till I say so. OK, we're ready now. Get up and we can do the next shot." She had to be helped off the table, sure that she'd slip over if she tried to get down alone from the high platform. Her head was swimming now although she found the intoxication pleasant. She was told to go over to Nicole and Olivia at the far side of the room. When action was called they took hold of her arms and forced her across the room. The tiles felt gritty under her bare feet and she found it hard to keep up with them, almost falling more than once. The expression of fear in her eyes was genuine.

Both of the women towered over her, the difference in their heights exaggerated by the tall heels they wore. Olivia dragged her roughly onto the table and pinioned her arms while Nicole fastened leather straps around her wrists, fixing her hands to the table near her shoulders. Jen's head hung free over the end of the table until Nicole moved a neck rest into position. A leather strap was closed loosely around her neck, making it impossible for her to rise. Her head was still unsupported and she let it fall back, but quickly raised it when the room appeared to start spinning. Olivia reached for a pair of scissors which had been resting on an ice pack and brought them to the collar of Jen's dress. As the cold metal touched her skin she instinctively tried to pull away. Nicole held onto her ribs as Olivia continued to cut through the dress, but at each touch of the blades on her skin Jen's muscles twitched in reaction.

The dress was cut down the full length of the front, then across the shoulders and wrenched free of her body. Jen blushed as she realised she was naked on camera. “You've been spying on us, haven't you?" Olivia asked with menace. Jen chewed at the gag and stared in silence. “She doesn't even try to deny it! We punish voyeurs. The surgeon will be here soon to decide your fate." Jen had no doubts that Ella was the surgeon and thought that there was every possibility that she would inflict real punishments.

Nicole's gloved hands stroked over Jen's body. “She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" she said with some menace. “I think we can have some fun with this one. If she plays along we might keep her." Jen shivered as her fingertips reached her right nipple. “You like that, don't you, you little slut?"

Jen did like it. She nodded as best she could, although her neck was aching with the effort of keeping her head raised. Nicole bowed over her body and put her lips to Jen's nipple; a moment later Olivia did the same. They were both expert and Jen moaned through her clamped teeth. The sensations were overwhelming, and as one licked and sucked the other would close her teeth until pain was felt. Pleasure and pain mingled until they were no longer differentiated in Jen's muddled consciousness. She opened her eyes and saw a camera pointed straight into her face, shutting her eyes again to go back into her private world where she could forget about the scene being a fiction. It felt more real than anything she'd experienced before.

A moan of dissatisfaction rose deep within Jen. Her conscious mind slowly tried to decode what was wrong and after a few moments she realised that her tormentors had released their contact. She raised her head to see what had stopped them and gurgled in terror, unable to cry out as she wished to due to the gag. Ella was standing over her, her face now contained within a gas mask, a long snout like muzzle tipped with two chrome vents which hissed as she breathed. Her eyes were invisible behind two smoked glass discs. Jen's thoughts went back to the previous day when Nathalie and she had toyed with Zoe and realised that the tables had now been definitively turned on her.

The sight of the faceless mask was genuinely unsettling for Jen and she felt panic as Ella stared down at her while Nicole and Olivia listed her supposed misdemeanours. “What a naughty girl," Ella hissed through the mask. Her fingers reached around Jen's throat and tautened the strap. “They used to hang spies. This one's not getting off so lightly. We're going to have our fun with her first." She made a sign to Nicole and Olivia and they moved a trolley into position behind Jen's head. Her head was lifted by Olivia as Nicole pushed plugs into her ear canals. Her hair was lifted free of her ears, the latex gloves sticking and tugging. Nicole pulled rubber pouches over each ear in turn; the latex constricted and deformed her ears. She heard Ella say something but was unable to comprehend the meaning, her hearing restricted by the plugs and pads.

A collar-like rubber ring was pulled over Jen's head, then stretched tightly so that it reached from nape to forehead and pressed across the ear pads. Her nurses then fed her hair into a large rubber bladder which was lowered onto her head. The edge was tightened so that it formed a seal around the rubber ring. Olivia compressed the sac and air hissed out of vents. Then hoses were clipped into each of the four vents, and these in turn were connected to a large pump. Jen heard a motor start to hum and heard a whooshing sound. A moment later she felt a trickle of warm water filling up the rubber sac and surrounding her scalp. Nicole monitored the seal, tightening a strap and wiping away a trickle of liquid which had escaped.

Jen could feel the warm liquid surrounding her scalp now. It gently started to wash from side to side as the pump forced liquid first in one side, then the other. The flow gently massaged her head and Jen enjoyed the sensation. She let her head fall back, relaxing her neck muscles. It still induced a wave of vertigo as the room started to spin but she could no longer fight it; keeping her head raised was too much effort. She let herself relax fully, momentarily even relaxing her jaw, but reflexively clamped it shut again as the gag tightened painfully on her tongue.

Jen's reverie was disturbed as she felt hands grip her knees and force them apart. She tried to raise her head but realised that she no longer had that option; one of the hoses had snagged, further restricting her movement. Nor could she hear anything; her plugged ears could now only hear a loud gurgle as the bladder rhythmically filled and emptied. Her body involuntarily twitched as a hand swept over her pubis. She was utterly defenceless now; the women could touch her, use her as they wished and nothing she could do would prevent it. Latex-clad fingers stroked her most intimate places. She was aware of a distant murmur of voices as they analysed and commented on her body. She was terrified and humiliated. She pulled her knees inward but felt strong hands pushing back against her efforts and blushed as she realised how much she liked the feeling; she felt a warmth growing in her loins as the hands pressed her thighs apart. She sighed as a hand once more rubbed over her mound and experienced a thrill as she felt bare fingertips on her curls; the glove had been removed. A long nail caressed the length of her slit and she shivered in anticipation. Her helplessness just increased her sensitivity. She knew she was wet and little excited yelps escaped through her teeth. Something cold and hard was lowered onto her mound, covering her sex completely. A finger probed at the edge of the thing, where it met her skin. Jen tried to imagine whose finger was touching her. She kept thinking of Ella, bold, bald, dominant, terrifying. She hoped it was her; she was thrilled by the idea of being in her power. She felt the cup pressed tight to her flesh, then felt a sucking as the air was drawn out. She moaned in surprise as her flesh was drawn upward into the device which sealed tightly onto her. More air was pumped out and the edge started to dig in. She could feel a burning as the vacuum made her flesh tingle and swell. Then something started to vibrate. A rubber bud was touching her mound and buzzing, frustratingly just out of alignment with her clit.

Jen raised her hips and snaked from side to side but realised that she was unable to change the position of the stimulator and moaned in frustration. She felt a stinging slap against the side of her buttock and somebody gripped her hips, pushing them back onto the padded bed. Her left leg was extended and a tight stocking was drawn over her foot and unrolled up her leg. The material pulled tightly, the constriction almost painful. She was in no doubt that her legs were being encased in rubber and shivered as she imagined herself covered in latex like her tormentors. She daydreamed about being in bed with Nathalie, clad entirely in latex. Now both legs had been covered and she tested the feeling. It was uncomfortable to flex her knees too deeply; the rubber squeezed at her joints and pulled at her skin. She held her legs out straight, although the bed only supported them to her thighs.

Jen was suddenly aware that Nicole was standing over her, lifting her head. Olivia pressed an eye patch over her right eye and Jen squealed as she felt that the edge of the patch had been coated with melted wax. The burning made her skin sting and her fingers clutched at the air until the agony passed. Lights inside the patch started to strobe rapidly and Jen was unable to avoid the intense flickering even when she closed her eye. She started to see brightly coloured patterns which changed too quickly to comprehend. She wanted it to stop; her senses were overwhelmed and she felt dizzy and nauseated. The nurses moved back out of her eye line and raised her legs so that her thighs lay on her abdomen. She reacted with panic as she felt hands tugging at the skin of her buttocks. Her resistance was quashed as her ankles were gripped and forced down. She could feel her calves start to tingle as the blood flow was constricted by the stockings.

A finger pressed and prodded at her anus. Jen wanted this to stop immediately. This was going too far. She tried to lift her head to catch Nathalie's eye but her efforts were in vain; she could barely raise her head and the one eye she could see out of was blinded by the intense lights if she didn't look straight up. She felt something cold touch her anus and twitched uncontrollably. It slid inside her now and she felt it expand, pulling her sphincter open. She moaned as she realised that it was a speculum; moaned and moaned incoherently through gritted teeth, an inarticulate protest which no one but her heard. She felt her cheeks blazing as she was stretched wider. She prayed for the pain to stop; instead she felt a finger penetrate her, wet and slimy, teasing, caressing. Her body trembled violently. It seemed to endure for minutes. When the speculum was finally withdrawn she felt something still occupied her; her muscles contracted to try to expel the foreign body but without success. It was lodged firmly in her dilated sphincter.

Her legs were extended and hung limply from the edge of the bed. Jen wiggled her feet slowly to try to get the blood flowing again. She could sense that someone was touching the machine that engulfed her pubis; suddenly the vacuum was broken and air rushed in. There was an intense burning as the pressure normalised. Her skin felt swollen and bruised. She sighed as someone rubbed a soft sponge over her mound; the cool water soothed the pain and felt delightful. There was something sticky coating her skin, covering the entire area that the cup had covered. Now she was being washed clean. It took a moment for Jen to decipher the sensations; something was different, wrong. She was sure that she was hairless. Her suspicions were confirmed when she felt gloved fingers stroke her. Her skin was silky and smooth. The caresses made her shiver. She was growing wetter by the second and thought with horror that without hair that her arousal would be entirely visible to the cameras.

Without warning the eye patch was wrenched free. The wax had congealed to form a seal and she felt a sting, especially over her eye socket. She looked up to see Ella holding the patch. In the wax she saw fine red hairs and felt a sense of dread as she realised that the wax had taken her eyebrow with it. Not content with the damage it had wrought Ella now wielded a pair of tweezers to rid Jen of any hairs which had remained. She realised that there was a pause in filming as she saw Julie making some adjustments. The pump was now turned off and Jen could hear when voices were raised. Ella ordered Jen to close her eyes as she picked up a tiny battery trimmer. Jen was powerless as she felt the eyelashes of her right eye being shorn to the edge of her eyelids. Ella wiped away the cut hairs and once again assumed the demeanour of her on-screen character. A camera pointed straight into Jen's face to record the transformation which had been effected.

Jen now watched in fascination as Ella opened a zipper on her suit, exposing her pussy. Jen's eyes widened as she tried to comprehend what she saw. Her vagina gaped wide; her inner labia were stretched tautly by two pierced rings in each, attached to small chains which vanished inside the latex suit. Above her clit hood was tattooed “FLEUR DU MAL".

“Do you want to lick me?" Ella demanded. Jen murmured and nodded. “I only admit pierced tongues... Ladies, you know what to do."

Jen saw Nicole approach. She prised Jen's jaws open, making her wail as the gag closed on her tongue. Nicole reached in with forceps and clamped the gag open, then eased it free of Jen's tongue. Her relief was so great that she was close to tears, but that relief was short lived. Olivia hooked another device over Jen's teeth and ratcheted her jaws apart. A suction tube was introduced into her mouth and pressed to the tip of her tongue, sealing onto it tightly. Her tongue was pulled out of her mouth; it was so sore from the gag that she started to cry immediately. Even as she saw Nicole unsheathe a needle Jen still couldn't believe that they would really pierce her. It was just a film, they'd use something to simulate it. Olivia tugged at the suction tube and Jen's tongue was immobilised. Nicole touched the tip of the needle to the underside of her tongue and Jen squealed. Her eyes rolled as she looked for someone to stop this. Then her nerves erupted in agony as the needle slid into her flesh. Nicole pushed the needle through in one fluid motion and blood trickled down into her throat. By the time Olivia released the suction tube she could feel round beads top and bottom of her tongue. She felt emotionless now; there were no more tears. She tried to keep her tongue still as every movement caused pain. Nicole released the jaw spreader and Jen gingerly closed her mouth. Her jaw muscles ached. She felt Ella's fingers on her chin, tipping her head back. Ella moved closer, her thighs touching Jen's cheeks. “Lick!" She ordered.

Jen could barely extend the tip of her tongue beyond her lips without searing pain. She touched it to Ella's labia which were stretched tight and smooth. The sensation fascinated her and she tried to explore more of her pussy but was unable to bear the pain that came each time she tried to reach further. “That's pathetic," Ella said scathingly. “Are you scared of my vagina?"

“No, it's beautiful," Jen mumbled. She could barely make herself understood.

“Then you should have the same." Before Jen could object Ella had covered her mouth with her pierced labia. Jen felt Nicole and Olivia swabbing at her mound. She moaned a protest but was silenced by Ella. “Keep licking if you know what's good for you," she called through the mask. Jen pressed the tip of her tongue between Ella's labia. Despite her fear she felt a surge of libidinous energy. She tried to ease her tongue out a little further, fighting through the pain, and prodded weakly at Ella's clit. The moan she elicited made her feel a profound pleasure.

Jen felt sick as forceps closed on her right labium. Ella pinched her nipple. “Stop worrying about what they're doing to you and keep licking." She swallowed hard and did as she was told. A moment later a needle penetrated her. The scream was muted by Ella's pussy which was pressed tight to Jen's lips. Her mind and body seemed weirdly out of synch. The pain hit her intensely, like a blow to the belly and Jen felt a shudder pass through her. As it continued to reverberate Jen realised that she was in the hold of a powerful orgasm. Ella continued to press herself over Jen's mouth and she weakly probed with her tongue in an attempt to draw some air. A second needle entered her flesh while she was still gripped by the climax. By now the lack of air was making her feel faint and she tried to pull her mouth free of Ella's hold. Eventually Ella arched her back and allowed Jen to suck in some air.

“You liked that, didn't you, girl?" Ella hissed.

Jen panted desperately and nodded, shame-faced. She steeled herself for the next piercings. She felt a tugging on her new rings and realised that all four were present; she wondered if she'd lost consciousness. The pain was unbearable and she begged for mercy. “Please, it hurts so much. And... I need to pee. May I use the toilet?"

She was afraid that she'd messed up the filming with her request, but was desperate. “Poor little thing," Ella laughed. “You heard her, she needs to pee. Show her what she's going to get."

Nicole held a sterile pack before Jen's face and she recognised it as a Foley catheter. “Please, no, not that!" she gasped. Her tongue refused to do her bidding and her speech was slurred to near incomprehensibility.

Ella brought her mask close to Jen's face. “I didn't get what you said. I suppose you were saying thank you."

Jen was panicking. She'd seen how painful most people found catheterisation and dreaded experiencing it for herself. She moaned as Olivia tugged at two of her rings; the wounds were fresh and tender and the pain was intense. Nicole swabbed her with saline, pulling at her flesh to expose the opening of the urethra. The tip of the tube was fed into her and Jen screamed as she felt a severe burning pain. The catheter was fed inside and a bulb used to inflate the balloon at the tip.

Ella was taking delight in her pain. “If you ask nicely I'll let all the pee out of your bladder."

“Please, Miss, it hurts. Let me pee," Jen whimpered.

Nicole attached a bag and turned the valve. Jen sighed as she felt the pressure in her bladder relent.

“Put her boots on and get her into the chair," Ella called to her assistants.

Jen was still unable to raise her head and saw nothing of what was taking place. Her legs were held straight as the boots were slid into place. She could feel tight, rigid sleeves envelop her upper thighs and realised that these were separate from the boots, which only came to her knees. As they were fastened she felt that her feet were held in a pointed position, her insteps bound into line with her shins. She soon discovered that her knees were locked but in her confused state was unable to work out precisely how her legs were immobilised. She felt the boots being tightly laced, closing firmly around her calves.

The rubber sac which covered Jen's head was now drained; the water was pumped out and the hoses pulled free. The last of the water was allowed to dribble into a bowl beneath her head. Jen's hands were freed and she was raised to a sitting position for what seemed like the first time in hours. She felt dizzy as she sat up and it took her a minute to regain her wits. She looked down at herself. Her pubis was hairless and four rings were prominent on her labia. She wore black leather ballet boots, the long heels running almost parallel to the sole; the laces were concealed under a leather flap which was sealed with a padlock. Metal rods were set into the heel and travelled up the side of her legs, through loops at the top of the boots, ending in the sleeves which covered her thighs. The catheter bag was fixed to her calf. Clear latex stockings covered all the visible flesh of her legs. When she reached to feel the stockings she saw that her fingers were adorned with long, claw-like black false nails. She had no memory of these having been glued in place.

Jen was helped up from the bed by Nicole and Olivia. She had to grip on to them tightly as she found it almost impossible to balance because of the boots and leg braces. In addition all of her weight went through her big toes and the pain was excruciating. She made her way across the space, teetering from side to side, leaning on the nurses, toward Ella who was standing behind a large leather-bound chair.

Before being allowed to sit Jen was made to support herself before the chair, spreading her feet wide and resting her hands on the chair arms. She blushed as she bent forward, aware that the object which had been inserted into her anus would be visible to the camera. Nicole gripped her ribs and told Jen to stand upright. Olivia fitted her with a canvas jacket with long sleeves which were stitched up at the ends. The jacket laced up at the back and Jen realised she was being put in a straight-jacket. Her hands were fastened together behind her back. She was turned around and a gentle push made her topple back into the chair.

Ella stepped before Jen and pulled her mask free. Jen couldn't take her eyes off her; she looked even more beautiful than Jen had remembered. She leant forward and placed her lips on Jen's and slid her tongue deep into her mouth. Despite the tenderness of her tongue, Jen was quivering with pleasure.

“Now that you've seen me, we have two choices. Either we dispose of you or we make you one of us. Which is it to be?"

“I want to be one of you," Jen lisped.

Ella peeled the hood forward and revealed her bald scalp. Jen was transfixed. It was like she was seeing her for the first time. She shifted in the seat awkwardly. “If you're going to join us you need an acceptable hairstyle," Ella stated. Jen grew pale.

“Please, not my hair," she groaned. She wondered if Ella and Nathalie had conspired to make her as bald as they were. Ella merely held a finger to her lips and gestured toward her assistants.

The rubber sac was loosened and worked free of Jen's head. Her hair was dripping wet and fell heavily over her back. Nicole tugged the band free from Jen's forehead and eased it over her hair, then freed her ears. Jen smiled at her in gratitude, her hearing fully restored.

Ella combed through Jen's hair which was full of tangles. She pulled the comb firmly, paying no heed of the tugging which made Jen wince. “Your hair is so long," Ella said. “Mine was long too but it had to be shaved. So much more beautiful now, isn't it?" she added menacingly. Jen thought of how aroused she'd been when she shaved Ella and felt tears in her eyes as she realised that she was now at her mercy, a quality which seemed to be lacking in Ella.

The nurses lifted Jen's legs onto supports which had been screwed onto the sides of the chair; they diverged at forty-five degrees and left her pierced vulva exposed. Ella was using a dryer to smooth her hair but Jen felt none of the relaxation that having her hair styled usually produced. She was experiencing something approaching a panic attack as she tried to come to terms with the idea that Ella was about to shave her. Nicole pushed her head back and kissed her with unexpected passion. Jen felt something small and hard on her tongue and realised that the kiss was a pretext for administering another pill. Regardless, she felt arousal. Nicole whispered “A present from Nat. Trust her, she's not going to let Ella go too far."

The second pill hit. Everything seemed to slow down, outside and in. Her anxiety reduced and she felt a pleasantly confused state engulf her thoughts. Looking up, Jen saw Ella standing before her, a set of clippers in her hand. She had to suppress a giggle, though she didn't find any humour in her situation. “Are you going to shave my head like yours?" Jen said, her voice slurred both by the injuries inflicted on her tongue and the chemicals she'd ingested. Ella pushed her head to the side and flicked the switch.

Jen felt her body crumple to the side, weak as a kitten as Ella exerted her physical dominance. The blades touched Jen's left cheek. She couldn't breathe; suddenly she felt her rational mind fighting to assert itself. “Please, don't shave me," she groaned. Too late. She felt the buzzing on her scalp, the blades moving in an arc around her ear. Her memory pulled out images from when Ella had sat for her, images of shaven scalp surrounded by thick curls. She wailed as Ella drew her long nails back through the side of Jen's hair and pulled a hank of hair free. Suddenly she felt close to an orgasm. Nicole and Olivia were standing before her, staring as Ella transformed her. It was Olivia who noticed how wet she was.

Her fingers stroked at the inside of Jen's thighs, above the leg braces. “You're getting all wet again. Do you like getting clippered?" Jen groaned. How could she possibly admit how aroused she was? She was sure that if she did it would give Ella reason to shave her fully. Olivia slid her hands over Jen's mound, making her squeal. The piercings were still raw and the feeling of the tube of the catheter felt alien and unpleasant. Despite that, Jen felt herself edge closer to a climax. “I asked you a question!" Olivia snapped. “Answer me!" Her fingers slid lower, and prodded at the plug which still sat in Jen's anus. At the same time Olivia placed her lips on the side of Jen's head and nuzzled against her scalp. Jen felt that her hair had been shaved, or very nearly. She felt her resistance erode and knew that she would climax. “Answer me!" Olivia repeated angrily.

“I don't... it's... I..." Jen couldn't form a coherent thought. Now her speech dissolved into breathy moans as she orgasmed. Ella made another swipe with the clippers which served to intensify Jen's climax.

“I think I have my answer," Olivia snorted and forced a finger into Jen's pussy, working the tip upward toward the catheter, making the tissues burn and sting. Despite the humiliation and suffering Jen's orgasm continued.

Ella forced the blades higher and higher up the left side of Jen's head. She realised that the roaring sound that she could hear was coming from her own mouth; she was screaming as the orgasm consumed her. The clippers mowed a path behind her ear and up to her crown, then Ella pulled more of the cut hair free. Jen stared up at Nicole who had remained static. Her dark eyes looked so mysterious within the mask. At a sign from Ella she moved forward and with Olivia's assistance pulled Jen to her feet. Tremors were still coursing through her and she wasn't sure that her knees wouldn't have buckled without the braces which held her limbs rigid. Ella pulled the jacket's fastenings free and tugged it away from Jen's arms. She used the unaccustomed freedom to place her hand around Nicole's waist and draw her closer, planting a soft kiss on her latex-covered cheek. Ella drew the kiss to a close by tugging on Jen's hair. She smiled in relief that she still had hair to pull.

A thick leather collar was bound around Jen's neck and her hands cuffed to the bar which extended a foot either side of the back of the collar. She was incapable of standing without support and swayed whenever the nurses moved their hold on the bar. Ella attached two hooks to it, one on either side of her head, each dangling from a cord suspended in the ceiling. She whispered into Jen's ear: “Keep still while the nurse does your make-up." Jen nodded meekly.

Nicole stood so that her body pressed against Jen's and brushed her hair off her face. She started to add make-up to Jen's face, brushing colours around her eye. Jen smiled at the welcome attention, her face only inches from Nicole's. “Your eyes are so pretty," she murmured. Nicole placed a finger on her lips.

“Hush, this will hurt." Jen face showed her confusion. After all she'd endured how could she be taxed by the application of cosmetics. Then she felt Olivia's fingers on her labia, spreading them and gripping the catheter. She moaned and pulled her hips back, the only movement of resistance that was available to her now.

“Kiss me, please," she whispered to Nicole, desperate for something to take her mind off the unpleasantness that was about to come. Nicole obliged her, placing her lips on Jen's. Her tongue slid over Jen's, probing at the new piercing. Every touch at the wound induced little flashes of agony for Jen but the excitement she felt made it more than endurable. Ella took hold of her hips and thrust them forward so that she couldn't move. She could feel Olivia grip the catheter and there was a strange sensation deep inside as the balloon was deflated. Then she felt the tube begin to slide out of her urethra. There was a slight burning sensation, but the pain was relatively mild. However, she found the experience horrible; there seemed to be a yard of tubing being pulled free and the sliding sensation induced nausea. Jen fought against the rising panic by pressing her lips more firmly against Nicole's. She tried to move her tongue too but found it was almost paralysed. As the catheter came free Nicole took a step back and Jen shivered, then moaned in relief.

A few minutes later Ella decided that Jen should see the results of her makeover. A covered mirror was set up in front of her and the cameras were carefully aligned so that they wouldn't be seen in the reflection. Jen was now feeling the effects of the pills very powerfully. She was giggly and would tell anyone who listened that she felt horny.

The nurses stood either side of her as Ella theatrically pulled the sheet away from the glass. Jen peered at the reflection. She saw Nicole and she saw Olivia and there was a girl between them, so that must be her, but she didn't look familiar. “Oh, I'm blonde!" Jen gasped. It was true, her hair had been coloured a very light ash blonde. She turned her head to get a better look at the left side which she initially thought had been shaved smooth; now she saw there was a slight peach fuzz which glittered in the lights. The whole side of her head was free of hair now and her ear was completely exposed. Nicole had given her very dramatic make-up, deep red lips, and gothic eye make-up, complete with long false lashes, except that her right eye was devoid of make-up, and also devoid of eyebrow and eyelashes. She should have been in shock but the image she saw was so far removed from the image she had of herself that she couldn't bring herself to believe that it was really her. The girl was too tall, she was naked apart from the weird boots, she was pierced. “So sexy," Jen moaned lasciviously.

Nicole pawed at her nape. “The seal covered up some of the hair here. There's still a bit of ginger left at the roots."

“We can't have that, can we?" Ella said. “People would think you're not a natural blonde. Pass me the clippers."

The yoke was removed and Jen leaned forward against Nicole to maintain her balance. She felt Nicole gather up her hair and twist it into a thick rope. She heard a roar as the clippers were turned on. The feeling of the humming blades on her nape made Jen shiver and moan. “Oh, that's all tingly," she lisped to Nicole. “You should try it yourself." She moved her fingers against Nicole's long ponytail.

Ella pressed the clippers tight into Jen's nape and buzzed carefully to make sure an even line was formed where her long hair started. “The stubble visibly changes colour," she noted. “Going to have to shave this..." Her nails stroked at Jen's velvety nape, eliciting another ecstatic ululation.

It was Olivia who rubbed lather over Jen's nape. She was still leaning against Nicole and Ella was pressing against her back, her oversized breasts rubbing and bumping against her bare skin. Jen was enchanted by being surrounded by three women; she felt like she'd been spirited into a magical erotic dream and if the price was to lose some of the hair she'd always treasured, then so be it.

The razor stroked up her neck. Jen could hardly control herself and Nicole had to hold her head to prevent her from moving. She reached out and grabbed a hand (Olivia's, but Jen wasn't even aware to whom it belonged) then moved it to her pussy. She moved it so that a finger rested on her pussy. Olivia obliged her by pushing slowly, rhythmically against her clit, the latex feeling smooth and sticky. As her skin stretched she felt sharp pangs from the piercings but that didn't dissuade her. She lay her hand over Olivia's and urged her to move more rapidly. Ella was shaving away the last of the stubble and her nape felt cool and fresh. She had to cum. Ella wiped her nape clean then started to kiss the bare scalp. Jen pushed harder at Olivia's hand and wailed. “Mmmmm, kiss me, kiss me," she moaned over and over. Nicole pushed her head down so that Jen's face rested in her cleavage. Now she felt two pairs of lips playing over her newly shaved nape. The sensations were perfect and Jen achieved the most blissful orgasm of her life.

The latter scenes were a blur in Jen's memory even as she filmed them. She could only recall fragments as the four women had what she could only describe as an orgy. She remembered penetrating Ella with the thickest dildo she'd ever seen, she remembered undressing Nicole and feeling shock as she saw that she was heavily tattooed, even more so than Nathalie. There had been a moment when her calf had cramped and she had to endure the agony, unable to flex her leg to ease the pain. But most of the memories were blissful; she could recall kisses on her buzzed scalp, which made her wet, and being allowed to kiss Ella's bald head, which was equally exciting. She'd discovered that the object which had been implanted in her rectum was a tube and at one point a long feather had been introduced. The tickling had made her scream, although she wasn't sure whether it was pleasurable or not; that seemed less important than that it was a powerful experience.

Jen still felt intoxicated as the set was disassembled around her. Everyone seemed pleased with the results but she felt curiously empty. Nathalie came to talk to her. “Jennifer, you were so good, much better than I could have dreamed. I'm so proud of you."

“Thank you honey." Jen's speech was getting worse; her tongue had swelled and she was trying to talk without moving it.

“Why don't you keep the boots on, they look sexy and we can have some fun when we get home."

Jen giggled. “You're so naughty. But I won't be able to drive in these boots!"

Nathalie smiled indulgently. “It's not just the boots that mean you can't drive. Ella's going to take us home and stay over."

Jen had to be dragged and lifted onto the back seat of the car. Once Nathalie and Ella took their seats she giggled as she saw two bald heads and couldn't resist reaching out to stroke them. “Don't even think of doing that while I'm driving or you'll be wearing handcuffs all the way home," Ella growled.

As the car pulled up at Nathalie's house Jen was still giddy and excited. Ella managed to get her out with some difficulty and she supported herself on Nathalie's wheelchair as they entered the house. Jen was eager to continue to explore her new-found sexual freedom but the others decided that food was more important; they'd hardly eaten all day. Jen didn't even make it till the take-away arrived. She crashed spectacularly, falling into a deep sleep on the sofa.

The come-down was tough. Jen awoke the next morning, aching all over, her mouth parched. She tossed over in bed and saw someone laying alongside her. It took a moment to realise that she was sharing the bed with Ella. She edged herself up from the mattress and found she could barely stand; her leg muscles were knotted, a mass of aches. She stumbled to the bathroom as quietly as she could, supporting herself with a hand on the wall, and groaned as she looked in the mirror. Her hair really was blonde. She scooped it back and saw her sideshave. Ella had taken it so high!. The entire side had been shaved to the shortest stubble and because it had been bleached it looked bald. She rubbed at it, shivering at how sensitive it was. Her long false nails would have to go too; she had to work a ten hour shift later in the day.

Even worse than her hair was the sight of her face without make-up. Her right eye looked weird, stripped of lashes. The absence of one eyebrow made her look like the victim of a drunken prank. She fussed at her hair, roughly pushing it into a parting on the right. She felt a measure of relief that the sideshave wasn't visible. She hoped that Nathalie would be able to do some magic with make-up to cover up her missing brow.

Jen opened her mouth and attempted to poke out her tongue, but a stab of pain made her rethink. She gaped and adjusted a lamp so that she could examine herself in the mirror; her tongue appeared to have swelled to twice its normal thickness and was coloured in shades of yellow and purple. The piercing seemed half submerged in the swollen flesh. Her labial piercings seemed to be healing better but Jen could barely bring herself to look at them. How could Nathalie have allowed this to be done to her?

She slurped some water and took some painkillers, not without difficulty in swallowing. She went back to bed and clumsily climbed back in, desperately trying not to wake Ella. She started to sob silently, partly from the shock of seeing herself transformed, partly just because she felt so sore and ill. She jumped as she felt an arm around her. “Are you crying?" Ella asked.

Jen turned to face her. Ella took her in her arms and reassured her, pulling her tight against her bosom. “What's wrong, Cassie?" she whispered. Jen was surprised at how maternally Ella was behaving toward her.

“My name's Jen, not Cassandra," she murmured, her speech even worse than it had been the previous day. “I just feel awful, everything hurts. And look at me..."

“You look amazing. The blonde looks so good on you! And look at me, someone shaved me bald and I'm not complaining."

Jen considered stroking Ella's scalp, but reconsidered. She still found her very intimidating. “You suit it so much though! You look a lot younger, I really mean it, Ella. But... you can get away with that look because you're a... because of what you do. I'm a nurse, I have to work today. How can I go in looking like this?"

“Why do you have to? You're young and pretty and you did a fine job yesterday. You could make a good living at it, much better than with nursing."

“Oh no, I couldn't," Jen replied automatically. “That was a one-off, Nathalie asked me to do it as a favour, I didn't even know what I was getting into."

“And you didn't enjoy it?"

“I'm not enjoying it now," Jen groaned.

Ella stroked her hair. “I'm serious. Are you worried people won't approve? Is that what's stopping you?"

Jen shook her head. “It's not that. I... just couldn't. I'm a nurse. That's what I do."

Ella cradled Jen in her arms until she fell asleep once more. A few hours later she woke again and was alone in the bed. She could hear voices downstairs, slipped into a t-shirt and went to join them.

Ella was preparing breakfast as Nathalie sat at her laptop. They both greeted Jen warmly. “How's my favourite blonde? Come and give me a kiss." Jen bent down awkwardly and put her lips to Nathalie's, feeling more aches as she did so. Nathalie's hand ran up her neck and brushed against her bald nape. Jen felt herself melting. She'd managed to completely forget that her nape was shaved but realised now that the bald area reached half way up her ears. “Mmmm, I can see you like that, don't you? Ella and I shaved each other, I hope you don't mind. I didn't think you'd be up to it today."

Jen nodded her agreement. She went to the freezer and collected some ice cubes. She dropped half a dozen in a glass and filled it with water, then scooped one out and sucked on it to ease the pain in her tongue.

Ella served breakfast, but Jen declined. “Can't eat anything," she lisped. “Tongue too sore and feel sick."

“Are you going to phone into the hospital to tell them you can't do your shift?" Nathalie asked.

“No, I'm going in. How could I throw a sickie then go in next day with blonde hair and piercings? They'd just think I'd spent all day in the salon."

Jen couldn't be dissuaded and Nathalie conceded, but on the condition that Jen took some sustenance. She couldn't possibly work a ten hour shift on an empty stomach. Jen managed a bowl of tomato soup but felt like she was going to be sick.

As the time approached for Jen to depart she asked Nathalie to help her to look more acceptable. “You'll need to do something to fix my brows and to cover up the shaved bits."

Jen sat on a stool as Nathalie considered the problem. “Best to get rid of your brows and lashes completely," she announced. Jen looked horrified.

“Can't you just draw in a brow and make them match? And anyway, why did you shave away the brow and lashes on one eye?"

“It looked good. I guess I watched 'A Clockwork Orange' too much. Anyway, it'll look weird with lashes on one eye and not the other, and there's no way I can draw on a brow that would look anything like a real one. They've got to go. Ella, am I right?"

Ella was still being very warm and maternal and Jen hoped she'd make Nathalie see sense. Jen was to be disappointed. “She's right, they have to go. You'll look really cute with drawn-ons though. Very sexy. Just go with it."

A few minutes later Jen blinked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to cry. Her eyes looked weird, alien. She rubbed at her shaved brow and felt no hair. “The other one was waxed so it'll take longer to grow in. We can keep this shaved till it does, or maybe just keep you browless. Now go and get a shower and we'll see what we can do with your hair." Jen did as she was told and returned. Ella dried her hair as Nathalie started to discuss styles. “If you want to cover up the shaved parts you should wear it down. Is that ok?"

Jen shook her head. “Not practical. Got to wear it up. We deal with every bodily fluid you can imagine," she grimaced.

Nathalie brushed at her hair and tried various arrangements but all of the more practical styles showed at least some of the bald nape and shorn side. Jen was getting increasingly frustrated and closer to tears. “I know what we should do!" Nathalie announced triumphantly. She smoothed Jen's hair back tightly and wove it into a loose bun at her crown.

Jen groaned. “But... but... The side looks like I've been mohawked. And you can see my nape. It shows everything!"

Nathalie smiled. “Exactly. You can't cover it up so don't try to. Let everyone see it and be proud." Jen's lip quivered. “Are there any regulations that say you can't wear it like this?" Jen conceded that there were none she knew of, and when asked if anyone else at the hospital had similar styles she admitted that there was a woman in radiology who had short hair and sometimes had a buzzed panel at the side. “Well that's settled then, we'll go with this."

Nathalie gave Jen fine eyebrows in shiny black liner with thin sweeping lines accenting her upper lids. It was stark and minimal but Jen had to admit that it was a great improvement on how she looked without make-up and, what's more, she agreed with Ella and Nathalie that it did look sexy. The girl she saw in the mirror bore little resemblance to the red-headed innocent with pre-Raphaelite curls that she'd been twenty-four hours previous.

Jen's nerves were getting the better of her as she arrived at the hospital She was dreading this shift. She was still sucking an ice cube (she'd brought a supply in a paper cup as she departed) but her tongue was still almost paralysed. As she entered she passed two nurses she was on fairly friendly terms with; they walked past without a flicker of recognition. She changed into her uniform in the deserted locker room and went to the ward. She saw the staff nurse, Diana, a fiery woman in her forties, but with whom Jen had always had a fairly good relationship, and went to let her know she'd started her shift.

Diana's face showed shock as she recognised Jen. “Oh Jen, what have you done to your hair? You've ruined it. You had such nice hair." She tutted angrily. “And you're wearing too much make-up."

Jen felt furious. She had always been unable to bear perceived injustices and it was obvious that Diana was wearing far more make-up than she was, albeit more conservative. She knew better than to pick a fight with her though. She could make life very difficult for anyone who came into confrontation with her and was renowned for maintaining grudges. Jen merely nodded. “What do you want me to do then?" she asked.

“Why are you speaking like that? Have you hurt your mouth?"

“I got my tongue pierced and it's a bit swollen," Jen said, fighting the pain as she tried to speak as clearly as possible. “It'll be OK in a few hours."

Diana was at her most aggressive. “I can barely understand you. I'm not even sure you're fit for duty if you can't make yourself understood."

“Well I think I'm fine but it's your call. If you want to send me home and get an agency nurse in, that's OK." Jen knew that would bring the discussion to an end, since the budget was far too tight to permit that. Diana dispatched her to look after a homeless man who'd been admitted. Jen couldn't help feel she was being punished when she saw that his filthy clothes were covered in vomit. It was going to be a long shift.

Nathalie had waited up for Jen. She slumped into an armchair, exhausted. “Oh Nathalie, what a day. That staff nurse has really got it in for me now. She gave me the worst jobs all day and criticised everything I did. She really doesn't like blondes."

Nathalie stroked Jen's head. “Probably jealousy, you just look too sexy. Anyway, you're talking better."

“I dosed myself up with some anti-inflammatories. Seems to have helped a bit."

“So did everyone get all excited about your new look? Did you have to keep a stick with you to beat off the horny guys?"

Jen laughed. “Don't joke, you've no idea what it gets like in there! There were a few getting a bit over-amorous today and it's going to be a nightmare when I work a Saturday night. It was bad enough when I was a redhead."

Nathalie urged Jen to come and sit with her. She squeezed onto the armchair, nestling in between Nathalie's legs. Then she was told to open the laptop. “I've been editing all day and I've made a rough cut. I want you to see it."

Jen clicked on the file and saw a shot of sun flaring through trees. She giggled as she saw herself enter. “You look so pretty," Nathalie whispered as it cut to a close up. Jen was surprised to see how well the images were shot. Julie had lit her very flatteringly.

The interiors looked impressive too. The grimy room looked ultra-clean to the camera, clinical, dazzling, intimidating. Jen felt embarrassed as she saw herself being stripped naked and blushed as she imagined strangers would soon be looking at this. Nathalie put her arm around Jen's waist and unbuttoned her jeans. Jen was breathing more heavily. “I suppose you get used to watching what you've filmed. You don't get excited when you're watching it."

“Oh no, if it's not turning me on it needs fixing. That's my rule for editing. And when I'm watching you I'm wet all the time." Nathalie's arms tightened around Jen.

Watching herself on screen was a revelation for Jen. She looked so vulnerable lying on the bed, her body wreathed in hoses and cables. Ella, Nicole and Olivia constantly caressed her and paused frequently to embrace, to kiss, to touch each other. Jen tried to fight her growing excitement; it's surely unseemly to be aroused by watching yourself. But her resistance was worn away as she sensed Nathalie's passion. She could barely watch the shots where she was pierced; they were shot in precise close up and no one could doubt they were genuine. The camera captured every detail of the needles entering Jen's flesh. “How are those piercings?" Nathalie murmured, and slid her hand into Jen's panties.

Jen moaned as she felt fingertips explore her most intimate places. Nathalie took the rings in her fingers and moved them back and forth. “Once these are healed I'm going to make your lips stretch out like Ella's." Jen could see on screen how much Ella's labia had been distorted and she felt repulsed by the idea of the same being done to her but at the same time she could recall how wonderful it had been to feel their smoothness on her tongue and was intrigued about the sensations Ella experienced. Nathalie wiggled a finger between her labia. “Imagine how deep that will let me get my tongue in here. You want that, don't you, Jennifer?"

“Oh yes, Nathalie," Jen panted.

As she watched herself being shorn on screen, Jen, now naked, felt Nathalie's lips form soft kisses on her neck, increasing their intensity as they spread up over the shaved part of her nape. Jen was in no doubt that she'd discovered a new erogenous zone and within moments she orgasmed. Nathalie gripped her so tight, pinning her arms, pushing her head down, ceaselessly kissing her nape. Jen's ecstasy seemed to make time dilate. By the time she came to her senses she was shivering and exhausted but felt serene, rapturous. Nathalie reached out to turn off the film. “We'll save the rest for tomorrow. I'm going to come upstairs to sleep tonight so we can share my bed for the first time." For the first time Jen realised that she loved Nathalie.

Within a couple of weeks Nathalie had invited Jen to move in permanently. She wanted it more than anything and the only obstacle was the practical issue of travelling to work. Since Nathalie would soon be driving again there would be times when Jen wouldn't have the use of her car. Nathalie passed her an envelope of bank notes. “That's your fee for the film. Go and buy yourself a car."

If her home life was a constant delight, Jen's working days were mostly torment. Diana's attitude had become ever more aggressive toward Jen and nothing she could do would appease her. She watched Jen's every move, always gave her the worst jobs, threatened to report her whenever she did make an error, no matter how slight, criticised her appearance and bad-mouthed her to colleagues. Every journey to work made Jen feel anxious. The job she'd loved was becoming unbearable.

On one of her days off Jen made a shopping trip into the city; in a record shop she suddenly got the feeling someone was staring at her. She glanced up and recognised Zoe, and smiled to see her. Zoe immediately turned away and pretended to be looking through one of the racks. It took a moment for Jen to realise that Zoe didn't recognise her; on their previous meeting Jen had been masked throughout. Jen moved closer to her and looked her over. Her hair was still black but she'd had a blonde streak bleached through the left side. Edging close enough to make the younger girl feel uncomfortable, Jen finally spoke. “Hello Zoe, what a nice surprise."

She looked up, her face betraying her confusion. Then her expression changed as she recognised Jen's voice. “Jennifer? Is it you?" she asked, a note of fear audible in her voice.

“Of course it is!" Jen pulled Zoe tight to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I must say, Nathalie and I have been disappointed that you haven't been in touch. Didn't you want to know how she was getting on after her accident?"

Zoe looked ashamed. “I'm sorry, I was meaning to call. I've had a lot going on though, busy with uni work and I split up with my boyfriend."

“Well I'd be lying if I said I was sorry," Jen smiled. “You should keep yourself free and just have some fun. Actually I'm just about to head off and meet Nathalie for lunch. She's just had her cast removed and insisted on travelling alone. Why don't you join us?"

Jen expected Zoe would bolt for the door, but when she said she'd love to join them Jen could see she was sincere. Her dark eyes were glowing.

When they arrived at the restaurant Nathalie was waiting. She was evidently as happy as Jen to see Zoe and they moved to a bigger table, sitting either side of Zoe who was trapped with her back to the wall.

As the meal was served, Nathalie spoke. “Still kept your hair long, I see. Don't you want to try a more flattering and grown up look?"

Zoe paused for some time before she could collect her thoughts. “I have thought about it but I've always had long hair. I'm a bit scared to cut it."

Nathalie nodded. “Did you get any tattoos yet?"

Zoe shook her head. “I've not had much time. And I'm short of money still."

“Well there are better ways than waitressing to make cash. I have a contact with a website who publishes photoshoots. You'd look fine on there. As long as you had some nice tattoos and a new haircut. She could pay you an advance to get the ink. Like I say, my tattooist is very good and would do you for mate's rates."

Zoe's eyes were huge, but Jen couldn't tell whether it was fear or excitement. “Nude photos?" she asked.

“Most of the shoots are topless. But if you're happy to do nude, so much the better. I can put you in touch with good contacts, very professional, good links with magazines. You're OK with showing off your body, aren't you?"

Zoe obviously didn't want to lose face and nodded, trying to look nonchalant.

“So how about we do something with your hair today, then I can show my friend that you're worth an investment?"

She clearly hadn't expected things to move so fast. “I don't know. Maybe I should think about it." Jen saw Zoe's hand move unconsciously to her nape, rubbing at the spot where Nathalie had stolen a lock.

Nathalie smiled indulgently. “I can see you're not ready for this. We should just forget it."

“Oh no, I'm really interested, Nathalie," she said with excessive vehemence as she tried to overcompensate for her nerves. “Let's do it." She smiled nervously at Nathalie, then at Jen. Nathalie had her hook, line and sinker.

Zoe hardly touched her lunch but made up for it by drinking the lion's share of the bottle of wine that had been ordered (Nathalie didn't touch it since she was driving but kept topping up Zoe's glass). By the time they left the restaurant Jen could see that Zoe was a little tipsy. They made their way to the car, Nathalie supporting her weak leg with an elegant antique cane of ebony topped with a chased silver finial. It was a short trip back to Nathalie's house and soon they were welcoming Zoe to their home with a glass of whisky.

Zoe looked nervous as she sat on the sofa between the two lovers. Nathalie started to stroke her hair. “You did tell us the truth about your age, didn't you, Zoe? You look even younger than I remembered. Do you have ID?"

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a passport. “I get it all the time, because I'm under five foot people think I'm still a kid. I'm twenty in three weeks." Nathalie checked the date of birth and nodded.

“I'll need to take a copy of this." She held up the photo of Zoe at the back of the passport to show Jen. “She'll need a new picture here when we're done with her, won't she?"

“Mmm, I should think so," Jen agreed.

“You don't mind if we undress for the cutting, do you Zoe? I find hair sticks to clothes and makes me so itchy." Nathalie started to unbutton her top. Zoe tried to express her agreement but her voice trailed off as Nathalie pulled the garment free. She stared in wonder at Nathalie's polychrome skin. “Could you help me undo my bra?" Nathalie guided Zoe's hand to the fastening. Jen could see her hand was trembling as she opened the bra.

Jen pulled her long hair to the side to expose her sidecut which had grown out to a soft light red pelt. “Zoe, would you unzip my dress?" She obliged and Jen rose and slipped the dress to the floor.

Nathalie helped Zoe out of her t-shirt. She held it up and looked at the screen-print on the front. “'Off!' Is that the name of a band?" Zoe nodded. “Is it an emo band or something?"

A cross expression momentarily appeared in her face. “No, they're a punk band... hardcore. I don't like emo."

Nathalie giggled. “I don't know much about music these days. I prefer classical, baroque, renaissance myself." Nathalie combed her long nails in Zoe's tresses. “So my little Zoe is a punk girl? Shall we give her a nice little mohawk, Jen? Nice smooth sides..." She pulled Zoe's fingers to allow her to touch her own head which Jen had shaved just hours before.

Jen slowly slipped out of her underwear, standing right before Zoe as she did. “Only if I get to razor her, Nathalie."

“Would you like that Zoe?" Nathalie stroked at Zoe's arm with a strand of her hair. “Jen does such a lovely shave."

“A mohawk... I don't know, Nathalie." Jen knew though. Nathalie could persuade her to do anything she pleased. Zoe was like putty.

Nathalie reached around to remove Zoe's bra. She barely needs it, Jen thought. She was very slim and her breasts were little buds on her delicate ribcage. Her vulnerability was palpable and Jen found herself intoxicated by exploiting it. She sat down so that her body touched Zoe's.

Zoe turned to look at her. She looked longingly at Jen who smiled back at her. “What is it Zoe? Do you want to kiss?" She said nothing, sat very still, then almost imperceptibly nodded. Jen placed her lips on Zoe's; they were full and ripe, sweet, warm. When Jen released her Nathalie turned her head and took her turn. Jen reached down to unbutton Zoe's jeans. She relaxed her legs slightly to signal her acceptance.

Now Zoe sat naked, Nathalie's and Jen's arms around her shoulders. “We'll head upstairs to cut off this hair now. I'll set up a camera so that we can record it, just for our own use, no one else will see it."

Zoe's eyes were wet as she realised the hour had arrived when her long hair would be sacrificed. “Are you really going to give me a mohawk?" she gasped.

Nathalie stared at her. “Might just take it really short. Shaved back and sides, buzz it into a flattop."

Jen giggled. “Oh she'll look just like a little boy!" She was getting very aroused now, all the more so because she could see the idea terrified Zoe.

Nathalie kept pushing. “Yes, she would look very boyish. Your breasts are tiny, aren't they Zoe? I think people might actually think you really are a boy." Zoe looked pained. The size of her breasts was obviously something that she was sensitive about.

“Oh please don't say that," she murmured. “They're still growing." Nathalie stroked at her breasts then took the nipple in her lips, making Zoe sigh, squeal, squirm.

“I've nothing against small breasts. Mine were small too and I only had them done for commercial reasons." She licked at Zoe's nipple again. “ Don't you like your breasts? If you don't you can have them enlarged. Jen's going to get hers done soon."

The statement was news to Jen and she felt slightly anxious. Was Nathalie serious? She dismissed it as something said for Zoe's sake.

“Maybe Zoe would look best bald like me. What do you think, Jen?"

The conversation they'd had after the first encounter came back to Jen, when Nathalie had fantasised about shaving Zoe. Jen stared at Zoe and nodded. “She'd look so hot. Shall I get the razor?"

Nathalie laughed. “Let's go upstairs first. We can decide your fate once I've set the cameras up, Zoe."

Zoe sat looking tiny and terrified as Jen and Nathalie adjusted lights, set up tripods, aligned cameras. Nathalie turned on the camera which was directed straight in Zoe's face. “Smile for the before shot, Zoe." Her smile was weak and forced. Nathalie went to a drawer and pulled out a perfumed envelope. She withdrew a long thick strand of hair, bound with a ribbon. “I've treasured the lock of your hair and now at last you came back to me. May I add your ponytail to my collection? Then we'll have an even stronger bond."

Any Dutch courage Zoe had derived from the wine had now dissipated. She looked back and forth hoping for some sign of mercy. “I'm not sure I want to be bald..." she said. Clearly the idea was more than she could bear.

Nathalie tipped her head back and kissed her. “I'll give you a nice fem cut, Zoe. You want me to cut your hair, don't you?"

Zoe looked delighted that she wasn't going to leave with a shaved head. “Oh yes, thank you Nathalie." Nathalie wasted no time and brushed her long hair back into a ponytail. Jen was given the task of binding it with ribbon; Nathalie indicated that she should do it as high up the hair as possible.

An oversized pair of shears were selected to sever the thick hair, more for dramatic effect than practical reasons. Jen placed her hand on Zoe's crown and forced her to keep her head bowed. She wrapped the ponytail around her hand and lifted it straight up. Nathalie opened the blades and placed them so that they were right at Zoe's nape. Her breathing was audible until the sound of the blades grinding into the silky hair masked it. Jen felt a little shiver pass through her body as she realised that Zoe's long hair was being taken from her.

Nathalie patiently sawed at the rope, each closure of the shears slicing through more hair. Strands of shorter hair dropped forward around Zoe's cheeks. The ponytail was only attached by a thin strand now and a last cut freed it; Jen lifted it, the weight of cut hair increasing her excitement. She let her hand stroke over Zoe's nape where some of the hair was now less than an inch long. Her neck was very slender and Jen couldn't resist cupping her fingers around her throat. Zoe lifted her head and glanced in the mirror which was set next to the camera. She blinked emotionally. “Oh god, so short..."

“Oh it's not short." Nathalie ruffled the unevenly chopped hair. “At least not yet." She brandished her clippers, waving them before Zoe's face to provoke her fear. “Did you ever have your hair cut with these before?"

Zoe shook her head, her eyes glued to the blades that were about to be given free rein over her scalp. “My hair's always been long."

“Oh, you poor thing. You're about to find out what you've been missing. Jen loves it, don't you, honey?" Jen smiled and placed Zoe's delicate little fingers on her sidecut. She shifted in the seat, looking more shy than ever. “While I clipper you, Jen can clean you up with her razor. She's a real virtuoso with it. And keep it secret, but she's a real nurse so you can trust her to look after you." Jen realised with a start that Nathalie intended for her to rid Zoe of the sparse fur that covered her mound but could see that Zoe hadn't yet grasped what was to be “cleaned up". Jen decided that she should sharpen the razor to achieve the maximum effect on Zoe and began to gently slide the blade over an oil-stone.

“It has to be nice and sharp for you, Zoe. Get you nice and smooth."

Zoe looked pleadingly at Nathalie. “She's not going to shave my head, is she, Nathalie?"

Jen took her cheeks in her fingers. “I think you should call her 'Miss Nathalie' and I'm 'Miss Jennifer'. And I'm going to shave your pussy, Zoe. Now open your legs nice and wide." A little whine escaped from Zoe.

“Yes Miss Jennifer," she whispered and opened her knees. Jen felt intoxicated by the power she had over Zoe, all the more because she could sense that Zoe loved it just as much.

“Open them wider," she said sternly and Zoe did exactly as told. She put her hand over Zoe's bush and could feel moisture along her lips. “You'll have to keep very still. The razor is very sharp and if you move suddenly it could slice off something you'd rather keep." Jen knelt in front of Zoe and placed a leather strop against her thigh, then moved the edge of the blade over it to polish it. She glanced up to watch Nathalie combing through Zoe's hair. “No guard on the clippers, Nathalie?"

“No, she's going to have shaved back and sides. You can razor her once I've clippered her." Zoe's lips trembled as she heard what was about to happen.

Jen squirted some shaving foam into her hand and worked it to a lather. She pressed it onto Zoe's bush with a flat palm before starting to massage it in with her fingertips. “Oh, Zoe, I hope you can sit more still when I use the razor. You're going to get cut to ribbons." Zoe moaned and squirmed and was obviously close to cumming.

“Is she a virgin?" Nathalie asked. Jen probed at her with two fingers to examine her. She gasped in mock surprise.

“You know, she isn't! She looks too young to be having sex. I bet it was some horrible rough boy, wasn't it, Zoe?" She bit her lip as she tried to remain in control, nodding. “You've never tasted the pleasure a woman can give, have you, Zoe?"

“No Miss Jennifer," she whimpered. “But I think I'm starting to find out."

“Oh, we haven't started yet," Nathalie said. She chose this moment to flick on the clippers. She placed a hand on Zoe's forehead and pushed her head back so that it was held against her body, her breasts brushing against Zoe's crown. The clippers were brought to her cheek and drawn back, swiping a path through her heavy locks. Jen stared, feeling like she was ready to explode, her fingers making little swirls in the lather. Zoe's body twitched convulsively as she tried to comprehend what was happening. She was experiencing new sensations and didn't know if she was being tortured or achieving new heights of ecstasy. Jen pushed her thighs apart.

“Stay very still, I'm going to shave you." She put the razor to Zoe's skin and drew it slowly over the left side of her mound.

“Oh please, no, just..." Zoe's body stiffened. “Miss Jennifer, please, move the razor, I'm going to cum."

Jen refused to give any mercy to the poor girl. She dragged the razor softly down the other side, exposing pale smooth skin. “You be a good girl and hold yourself until we say you can relax." Another chunk of dark hair tumbled free from Zoe's temple as Nathalie relentlessly clippered her. Jen glanced up and saw the sides of Zoe's head were being shaved. “Oh, where did Zoe go? And where did this little boy come from?"

Zoe was clearly hurt by Jen's words but, regardless, her self control was reaching breaking point. She groaned loudly. “I can't do it, Miss. I'm going to..." Her words tailed off and she panted and shivered as she orgasmed. Jen pushed two fingers into her pussy, pumping, twisting. A lock of black hair slid into her lap and Jen saw that Nathalie had taken hold of Zoe's hair at the crown and was clippering up her nape.

Jen savoured the sensation as she continued to finger Zoe. She was astonished at how long her climax endured. “I think we broke Zoe. She's gone into a permanent orgasm." She picked up some of her shorn hair and used it to tickle her nipple, eliciting a loud response from Zoe.

Finally there was a shudder and Zoe's shoulders slumped. She panted breathlessly. Jen pushed her thighs apart and resumed shaving her. Her head was still bowed as Nathalie finished off clippering her nape. “I must say, I'm a little angry, Zoe. Miss Jennifer did give you an order and you disregarded it. I have punished far lesser transgressions."

Zoe whimpered apologetically. “I'm sorry, you ladies are just so... so... I couldn't control myself."

“Don't think we respond so easily to flattery." Nathalie turned off the clippers and combed back the longer hair that was left on top so that the clipper-shaved area was on show. She turned Zoe to face the mirror, letting her see what had been done for the first time. She looked stunned. “I was going to leave the top longer but maybe to punish you I should flattop it."

Zoe started to cry. “Please don't Miss Nathalie! I'm sorry but I'm not used to this. I've never been with women before and I've been dreaming about this, but this is even better than my dreams. But I'll look horrible if you cut it all off..." Her sobbing overwhelmed her powers of speech and Jen suddenly felt very bad for pushing her so hard. Even Nathalie looked uncomfortable.

“You are new to this so you have one chance, which you've now used up," Nathalie said. “No flattop this time." She lifted Zoe's chin and gently kissed her on the lips. “But you do need to learn self-discipline. It's the key to discovering true pleasure." Zoe's tears still fell but she beamed with relief and she muttered in gratitude over and over. “Now you should thank Miss Jennifer for shaving you so beautifully."

She looked down as Jen washed away the last traces of lather. Zoe's little pink labia were revealed completely. Jen put her lips to the bare sex; it was still moist and Jen used her tongue stud to tease Zoe. She wailed at the unexpected thrill. “Oh, oh, thank you Miss Jennifer."

Nathalie now began to cover Zoe's hair with bleach, brushing it thickly over every strand from root to tip. “We'll have to do it two or three times to get out this black," she announced. “Jennifer, while that does its work would you care to smooth out Zoe's undercut?"

Jen was delighted to comply with the request. She dabbed on the lather a little at a time, working it into the short stubble which was the only vestige of Zoe's long hair which remained on the back and sides of her head. Nathalie had clippered high over her ears; the full width of the blades had passed over the top of each ear. The shaved area angled down slightly at the back, where it formed a wide V, but even the point of the V was as high as the tops of Zoe's ears. Jen massaged the foam, excited to see Zoe squirming at each touch. “Brows too," Nathalie stated nonchalantly.

“Shaved?" Zoe gasped.

“Miss Jennifer has shaved brows. I have shaved brows. Do you think you should be an exception?"

Zoe clearly did believe this but also knew that certain beliefs should go unexpressed. She shook her head. Her forehead furrowed as Jen dabbed lather over each dark and rather heavy brow. The lather was left in place as she started to shave Zoe's scalp, beginning at the left temple. Zoe looked very tense as she felt the blade scratching up her head. She unconsciously moved her head away from the blade and Jen had to tell her to keep still more than once. By the time Jen shaved her nape, Zoe was breathless; she was struggling to keep up with the intensity of the experiences she was discovering. Her scalp was almost white and gleamed under the strong lights that illuminated the room.

Jen spread her fingers across the younger girl's forehead and drew the skin taut, then shaved away the right brow in short strokes. Zoe made odd little gurgles as she tried to breathe. She glanced over at the mirror and winced. Jen turned her head so that they faced each other; the left brow was dispatched with a few more strokes of the blade.

“Lovely job, Jennifer. Not a single nick. She looks gorgeous, doesn't she?"

Zoe blushed. Her eyes had filled with tears as she tried to reconcile what she saw in the mirror with her self-image, but the compliments from Nathalie thrilled her. “Does it really look OK?" she asked nervously. “I'm not sure about the shaved brows."

Jen pushed Zoe's head to the side and kissed her nape. Her scalp was soft and Jen could feel the bones of her skull. It felt as delicate as fine china and Jen was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to shelter and protect Zoe. They were dispatched to the bathroom where Jen would rinse the bleach while Nathalie made a phone call.

Away from Nathalie's gaze Jen felt the dominant persona she'd affected start to slip. She started to feel more like Zoe's equal. She continued to feel maternal instincts toward her and had to remind herself that there was hardly more than two years difference in their ages.

Zoe smiled at Jen as they knelt together beside the bath. “Miss Jennifer, I didn't recognise you when I saw you in the shop, but I was staring. You look so beautiful, your hair is gorgeous. I can't believe I'm here with you. I'm so lucky."

Jen made her lean over the edge of the bath and used the shower head to rinse away the bleach. Zoe's hair had now faded to a reddish colour, still quite dark. Jen had no idea what Nathalie had in mind for the colour but was sure it would need another application of bleach. Then she poured a generous blob of shampoo onto the crown and worked it to a thick lather. She had Zoe raise her head and they knelt facing each other as Jen worked her fingers into Zoe's scalp. She rubbed at the suds which had dribbled down the back, massaging at Zoe's silky smooth nape. The feeling was delicious for both of them. They gazed at each other until Jen could bear it no longer and pulled Zoe's head toward her, kissing her with the utmost passion. She continued to move her fingers over her bald scalp, lubricated by the shampoo; Zoe's moaning indicated that she was moving toward another climax.

“Hey, you're off Sunday, aren't you?" Jen shot upright, surprised by Nathalie's voice behind her. She blushed guiltily, as if she'd been caught doing something very bad.

“Er, Sunday... yes." It took her a moment to gather her wits; she'd been deeply submerged in her passion as she kissed Zoe.

“What about you, Zoe? I'll need you all day." Zoe looked up innocently at Nathalie and said it wouldn't be a problem. “I've block booked Reiko, my tattooist all day. Nicole and I are getting more work done. And you two can start on your tattoos."

Jen's heart raced. Nathalie hadn't even discussed tattoos with her. Was she really going to get a tattoo so soon or was this another pretence for Zoe's sake? She decided she'd have to play along and ask more when she was alone with Nathalie.

Nathalie had ducked Zoe's head over the bath and was rinsing the shampoo. “It's going to need another bleach before I dye it, Zoe. I'll do that straight away." Jen hung back now, watching as Zoe knelt compliantly for Nathalie, her hair once more coated in chemicals. Jen wondered if she'd crossed a line, whether Nathalie would be jealous because of the passion she'd shown when she was alone with Zoe. Her guilt fuelled these ideas; she'd been close to a climax.

As they went back to the room Zoe again made her way toward the chair but Nathalie stopped her. “No point you sitting down, Zoe. We'll need to get that bleach rinsed soon, then get the dye on. Why don't you take a seat, Jennifer?" She stroked at Jen's sidecut, and twisted at the hair which had got long enough to be gripped with the tips of her fingers. “This is too fuzzy and you'll look so much better once I tidy it up."

Jen climbed into the chair. She noticed that she was no longer “Miss Jennifer". Her heart was still beating fast; she could barely look at Nathalie. She was left alone as Nathalie took Zoe aside and whispered conspiratorially. Jen rubbed at the left of her head. It had grown quite a lot, but she preferred it. It had looked almost bald when Ella had cut it, sexy but too severe. She hoped Nathalie wouldn't take it so short again but knew that she'd have no choice and, truthfully, she was thrilled by the absence of control. She glanced over and saw that Zoe was staring at a laptop. “Don't you know who that is with the ginger curls? It's our little Jennifer."

Jen realised that Zoe was watching the film and squirmed with embarrassment. Nathalie kept skipping forward to show Zoe highlights. She responded with inarticulate vocalisations which showed her arousal more clearly than any words. Nathalie would ask her little questions from time to time to which Zoe would absent-mindedly nod in agreement, only taking her eyes from the screen momentarily to glance over at Jen, who knew what she was thinking: “This is the same woman who allowed that to be done to her."

“Do you like those boots?" Nathalie asked, and there was the customary mumbled affirmation from Zoe. “Why don't you put them on her?"

Jen sat mutely as Nathalie instructed Zoe in how to get the boots in place. She'd been threatened with the tongue gag if she spoke up and suddenly felt very submissive. The rapid readjustment from the domme “Miss Jennifer" was hard for Jen to accept and she felt a kind of vertigo. Her legs were locked straight now, toes pointed and she grimaced as she recalled how they'd made her muscles cramp. Zoe laced them tightly and clicked the locks in place, smiling up at Jen as she did. It was difficult to read her expression now that her eyebrows were gone.

Nathalie put studded leather bands around Jen's wrists, then clipped them into rings on the sides of the rigid sleeves which supported the leg braces. She stood on Jen's left and Zoe took a similar position on the right. They leaned against Jen's arms, pressing them tightly to her sides. “Jen likes being immobilised, and she likes it best when she can feel human flesh immobilising her. Don't you, honey?"

Jen nodded. She'd never discussed it but Nathalie was expert in sensing what stirred each woman's passions. Jen felt her face redden as some strange pressure built inside her. Her breathing became stressed, even more so as Nathalie prompted Zoe to lean more heavily against her. Nathalie brushed through Jen's long hair, gently freeing any tangles. She brushed it till it felt soft and smooth, directing it all away from the short hair on the left side. Zoe gathered the long hair up in her fingers and asked Nathalie if she could plait it.

“Oh, yes, I think Jennifer would like that very much." Zoe slid her fingers through Jen's hair and awkwardly started to wind the three sections around each other, all the time keeping her body pressed tightly against Jen.

“Her hair's quite fine, Miss Nathalie," Zoe observed. “When I used to plait mine it would be twice as thick as this." She tied a ribbon around the end to hold it in place. Jen could see herself in the mirror, the long tight braid dangling over her right ear, her nape and sidecut exposed.

“Very pretty, well done Zoe." Nathalie leant across to kiss her. “You need rinsing now. We'd better head back to the bathroom. We don't want Jennifer getting bored though, let's give her something to think about while we're gone."

Nathalie lifted Jen's legs high and hooked her boots to a line which hung from the ceiling. Jen groaned as her tendons tightened painfully. She desperately tried to flex her knees to relieve the pain but the braces allowed no slack.

Nathalie started to play with the labial rings. “Do you remember what we said was going to happen with these once you were healed?" Jen nodded fearfully. “You may speak."

“You were going to stretch my labia like Ella's."

“And are they healed yet." Jen felt close to tears. She nodded mournfully.

Zoe stood alongside, gently kissing Jen, her cheek, her neck, her ear, as Nathalie pulled at the rings. She attached thin elasticated hoops which stretched under Jen's buttocks and hooked onto the tops of the leg braces. Jen wailed as the rings pulled sharply at her delicate lips. It felt like they would tear her like paper.

Nathalie smiled at her work. “Very nice, Jennifer. Remember, no calling out or I'll have to gag you. See you soon."

She put an arm around Zoe and led her from the room. Jen tried to shift herself into a more comfortable position but every movement (and those available were very limited) seemed to elicit more pain. The worst was the tension in her hamstrings; her labia seemed to become numbed but her legs felt more and more painful, as if something was tightening to the point where it would snap. She prayed for Nathalie to return and free her but as the minutes passed there was still no sign. Tears started to flow. It was an hour before Nathalie reappeared but it felt so much longer to Jen. The first thing she did was to free the labial rings. There was a momentary sense of relief, then Jen made a low cry as the blood returned to the compressed tissues, causing an intense increase in pain. Nathalie ignored her agony and freed Jen's legs, supporting them on her shoulders as the hooks were removed. Jen groaned as her legs were lowered; her muscles went into uncontrollable spasms and she sobbed so hard that her sinuses ached.

“There, there, my little baby, Nathalie's back now. Are your legs hurting you?" she asked, dabbing Jen's eyes with a tissue, then making her blow her nose. She whimpered and nodded, trying to control her crying. “Aren't you going to tell Zoe how pretty she looks?"

Jen blinked to try to focus her eyes, turning to look at Zoe. She had a mop of deep emerald-green hair now, her eyes were surrounded by black, the liner drawn into hard-edged oblong forms below angled black painted-on brows. Her lips were a glossy plum. She wore a grin that suggested that Nathalie had made their time together deeply enjoyable. Jen was astonished by her transformation. “Oh Zoe, you look so different..." Zoe silenced her with a kiss.

“Hush now, Jenny. Miss Nathalie and I are going to fix your hair. She's decided that you're going to be the most sub, so now you're going to call me Miss Zoe." Jen couldn't believe what she was hearing and looked at Nathalie, willing her to correct Zoe, but instead she nodded.

“Yes Miss Zoe," Jen murmured.

Zoe leaned herself tight against Jen's arm. “I want my haircut finished but we have to do yours first, so you'd better be co-operative. Don't make me have to wait." Nathalie grinned to hear Zoe suddenly become dominant. She was already preparing the clippers.

“How short are you going to cut the side, Nathalie?" Jen asked. Zoe immediately ordered her to include the title “Miss" whenever she addressed them and Jen corrected herself.

Nathalie smiled and asked Zoe to break the news to Jen. “You're going to have the side shaved smooth. It'll look great with your long hair." Jen felt panicky. The entire side had been clippered; shaved smooth it would look far too severe. She could only imagine how Diana would react the following day.

“Can't I have a little hair left?" she begged.

Zoe smiled at her. “I told you to cooperate. Don't be a naughty girl." She took hold of Jen's long plait and pulled her head to the side so that it rested on her chest. The clippers cracked as the motor animated the blades. Nathalie pressed them to Jen's cheek and swept them up rapidly, through her sideburn and fully up to the parting. Little clumps of pale red hairs descended over Jen's shoulders and breasts. Zoe giggled gleefully.

“Oh look at that, they just shave it all away! It's already practically bald." Jen wriggled nervously until Zoe tightened her grip on the braid. She felt Nathalie buzz away more of the pelt that had grown in since Ella had introduced her to clippers for the first time. Zoe blew on the bare scalp that was exposed. “Mmmm, you like that feeling don't you? My breath on your shaved scalp."

“Yes, I do," Jen said, her voice high pitched and excited. “Oh Zoe, please touch me."

“Patience, Jenny," Zoe said. “You know, Miss Nathalie, I think it looks a bit strange that she has a block shaved on the side and a block shaved at the back. Couldn't you connect them? And then... I could keep some of her hair. You would like me to have a lock of your lovely blonde locks, wouldn't you Jenny?" She blew again at Jen's scalp eliciting a sigh.

“If you say yes, Zoe will kneel down between your thighs and lick you till you cum," Nathalie said, letting her full weight fall against Jen's body. She moaned her agreement to the pact.

Zoe unwound the plait and aided Nathalie in separating the hair which would be shaved. A part was made diagonally across the back of Jen's head, from the crown on the left down to the right side of the shaved section of nape, half way up her ear. Zoe re-plaited her hair, this time forming the root of the braid on top of Jen's head. She then tied the smaller triangular section at the back with a red bow of ribbon. Jen was trapped tightly between the two women (although Nathalie's greater mass pushed her to one side) and felt like a volcano about to explode, the magma of her passion reaching an impossibly high pressure. The clippers were roaring again, taking away Jen's ability to breath. The edges of the unshielded blades nibbled into her long hair making Zoe squeal with pleasure. She was tugging on the long section which was to be shaved and Nathalie carefully edged the blades under it. She worked in short strokes, pressing the clippers in to follow the contours of Jen's head; it took barely two minutes to free the rope of hair. Zoe whooped as Jen started to pant, realising that she'd been holding her breath for too long.

Zoe stepped in front of Jen, holding up the long blonde hair like a talisman. She let the tip dangle onto Jen's body, trailing it around teasingly. As she did, Nathalie roughly brushed lather over Jen's scalp. “Jennifer, I do believe almost half of your head is shaved now," she announced.

Zoe stood in front of Jen now, insinuating herself between her rigid limbs. She slowly edged forward, pushing her thighs outward to part Jen's legs. “You're turning all red," Zoe said. “I bet you're going to cum really soon, aren't you?"

Jen's attempts at answering were thrown into confusion as she felt a razor rasp up her temple. “Nice and still, Jennifer," Nathalie cautioned.

Zoe dropped to her knees. Her slender fingers probed curiously at Jen's vulva. She placed two fingertips on the lower rings and spread them until they pulled painfully at the delicate tissues. She kissed between her fingers and giggled. “You're spread wider than my whole mouth. Imagine if I got snakebite piercings in the corners of my lips! We could hook the rings together, or better still, the same rings through both of our piercings. Then I'd be able to keep licking you forever." She bowed her head again and pressed her tongue inside Jen.

Jen gurgled as she felt the internal pressure increase even further. “Hold still, now. I don't want you to have a van Gogh ear," Nathalie said, easing the razor in a curving arc from temple to nape.

Jen tensed every muscle and wailed. “Oh Miss Nathalie, I'm going to cum. I just can't... I can't..."

She couldn't restrain herself a second longer. The full force of the eruption was unleashed. Zoe pulled her face away just in time to avoid being squirted; the gush of liquid fell across her breasts instead. She prodded and rubbed at Jen's clit, tugged at her rings, and then lapped at the dribbles of juice that continued to flow from the eruption. Jen grunted, squealed, roared, giggled, moaned. She felt like she'd achieved a beatific state, a nirvana. It was a far more intense high than the pills had given. She felt like hours had passed when her senses returned and she felt a razor passing high up her nape. Her eyes opened and she saw a green haired girl peering up at her from between her thighs, grinning and blowing kisses. She returned her smile, shivering as the aftershocks of bliss continued to course through her body. “Oh Zoe..."

“MISS Zoe!" she corrected, playfully gripping one of Jen's rings between her teeth and tugging lightly.

Jen tottered to her feet, grimacing as she tried to balance painfully on her toes. She'd been captive in the chair for what seemed like hours. She held tightly onto Nathalie's cane, certain she'd overbalance without it. She ran a hand up her neck and gasped to feel how much more hair had been shaved from her nape. “Bend down, I can't reach you when you've got your boots on," Zoe laughed. Jen leaned forward nervously, gripping more tightly on the cane. Zoe licked the side of her head and giggled, then kissed Jen on the lips. “You're so sexy," she beamed, then hopped in the chair. “Please, finish off my hair, Miss Nathalie! I can't wait to see what you've got planned."

Jen tiptoed to get a good view, and planted her feet widely, the cane forming a stable tripod. She was equally eager to see Zoe's completed style.

Nathalie combed through the green locks. It was longest at the front, completely covering Zoe's face now, but not for long. “Fringe first... What length do you think, Jennifer? Here?" She placed the scissor tips at the middle of Zoe's forehead. Jen smiled excitedly. “No, shorter, I think." She started to snip at Zoe's hair, cutting a very short fringe indeed. The strands tumbled into Zoe's lap and her face was revealed, eyes shut, lips smiling. Nathalie combed and snipped to make sure that she was shaping the fringe very neatly, a blunt line forming less than an inch from Zoe's hairline, her high forehead exposed. Nathalie cut the fringe from temple to temple. Zoe's features seemed transformed from the long-haired little girl that Jen had met a few hours previously; she had a delicately sculptured face, distinctive and striking, beautiful now rather than merely cute.

Satisfied with the fringe, Nathalie turned her attention to the sides. She cut a blunt line half way up Zoe's ears. Zoe's big eyes flickered open and she glanced in the mirror. She then looked over at Jen and gave an excited smile. Jen was impressed by Zoe's lack of fear; she was living in the moment, taking pleasure from everything that Nathalie did. She wondered with a little transitory pang of envy what had transpired between them when they were alone together in the bathroom. Whatever it was, it seemed to have given Zoe a huge self-confidence which Jen found enormously sexy.

The blunt line now surrounded Zoe's head. She had a very blunt, very full, very green Louise Brooks bob. “Are you going to stand there staring all day? I seem to remember I got you very hot when you were getting yours cut."

Jen shuffled closer but felt trapped by the boots. Every attempt to lean forward ended in a sensation of toppling forward and she jerked upright again. Nathalie came to her aid. She moved behind Jen and attached her wrist cuffs to the leg braces once more. Her arms held onto Jen's hips. “Now bend forward, as far as you can, Jennifer." She followed the orders and her head came to rest in Zoe's lap. Jen was helpless, unable to rise now. Zoe took her head in her hands and guided her mouth toward her bare pussy, thoughtfully brushing away the clumps of green hair which had gathered. She stroked at Jen's shaved scalp and purred.

“Lick me gently, my sweet sweet Jenny. I'm so happy we've been shaved together, and in a few days we'll be tattooed together." Jen moaned and did as she was asked. She let the tip of her tongue run lightly up Zoe's delicate folds, each time caressing her clitoris. More hair tumbled on top of Jen's head but her posture prevented any sight of Nathalie's work. She longed to see Zoe's hair being cut but she had no complaints. Zoe's delirious vocalisations delighted Jen and she continued to use her tongue gently. Zoe responded by stroking at Jen's undershave, playing with her hair, tickling her. She sighed with emotion each time Zoe called her “My sweet Jenny."

Nathalie had decided that Zoe's hair was too thick for such a short bob and was cutting the top shorter, leaving the sides of the bob intact. The tips of the scissors sliced randomly at Zoe's locks, leaving choppy, spiky tufts over the top of her head, just a couple of inches long. She used thinning shears to reduce more weight and to blend the cropped hair into the bobbed back and sides. Some wax was rubbed into the top and it was blasted and twisted into messy spikes. The bob was smoothed with straighteners until it gleamed. Zoe stared excitedly in the mirror. “Oh Miss Nathalie, it looks amazing. So wild. My sweet Jenny, make me cum, please, please, please. Then you can see my new hair."

Jen's restraint was cast aside and she thrust her tongue firmly into Zoe's slit, then drew it up so that the piercing pulled at her clit hood. Zoe's wailing was suddenly muted as Nathalie placed her lips over Zoe's mouth, then pinched her nipples and drew them out from her body. Zoe's body stiffened and trembled as her senses were once more overwhelmed to the point of climax. Nathalie lowered her head and relieved the burning in her nipples by licking at them, causing Zoe to mew like a kitten.

Jen had to beg to be lifted from Zoe's lap, and Nathalie obliged her, hauling her upright. She stared at the new Zoe, entranced. Her spiked bob revealed a lot of shaved nape. She looked androgynous, yet somehow very sweet and feminine. And Nathalie had made her into a punky girl, yet her eyes proclaimed a very genuine innocence and enthusiasm. Jen didn't have to say anything, a shared glance let Zoe know exactly how she felt.

The three women retreated downstairs onto the sofa. Jen suddenly felt guilty at having pushed Nathalie too hard. She was so exhausted that she had to descend the stairs by sitting and sliding down a step at a time. She'd forgotten Nathalie was still recovering. However, once they sat together it was Zoe who seemed overcome by melancholy. Jen asked her what was wrong.

“I suddenly feel like I'm the odd one out here. You live together, but I'm just an outsider. I bet you've had other girls here like this."

Nathalie put a finger to her lips. “Hush Zoe. Jen and I have never picked up another girl. You're very special. I don't want this to be an end, it's just a beginning. And I know that Jennifer would be heart-broken if I said she couldn't see you again."

Zoe started to cry tears of joy. “This has been the most wonderful day. I'll remember it till I die." She kissed Nathalie in gratitude, then embraced Jen. “My sweet Jenny, we're like sisters now. Well, except that I want to have sex with you and incest is wrong, so not really sisters," she giggled. “And I can't wait till we get our tattoos. I want us to get tattooed for each other, so that we have something that will last forever."

“Tattooed together." Jen nodded in agreement. The idea terrified her.

The following days were almost unbearable for Jen. Her life seemed to have fractured into two irreconcilable parts, home life and work life, and both were problematic. She dreaded being tattooed but was afraid to mention this to Nathalie and their time together seemed to be spoilt by an unshakable menace hovering in Jen's unconscious. However, it was work that dominated her time, as she worked one long shift after another. On more than one occasion she broke down in tears as a result of Diana's relentless bullying. She'd gone further than ever, even telling lies about Jen's lack of professionalism within earshot of patients; she'd discovered this from one of the patients who was outraged by Diana's behaviour.

By the end of a ten hour Saturday shift Jen was emotionally drained. She let herself in and called out to let Nathalie know she was home. She was answered with an urgent request to come to the lounge. She entered and saw that Zoe was on the sofa along with Nathalie; she joined them and was rewarded with numerous kisses. “Zoe's going to stay over and then we can all travel together to the tattoo shop in the morning.” Jen felt a twinge of anxiety as tattoos were mentioned, like a cloud passing on a sunny day. Clearly, Zoe had no such worries.

“I'm so excited about tomorrow. I can't wait to get a tattoo! And it's even better that I get to spend the night with my two favourite people.”

She embraced Jen and covered her in kisses, her mood buoyed by the wine which still flavoured her lips. Jen's problems all seemed to melt away as she entered her earthly paradise, a world where she was loved by Nathalie and Zoe. They both made a fuss of her and an hour later, following a delicious meal and a few glasses of wine, Jen was blissfully happy, her troublesome day at the hospital a distant memory.

The topic of conversation turned once more to the plans for the next day. It was Zoe who brought it up again. She seemed like an excitable puppy: “I was thinking of a chest piece, something quite big. What do you think, Nathalie?”

Nathalie nodded. “Yes, I love nice bold chest pieces. But if you're going to draw attention to your chest maybe we should get your boobs done.” She stroked her nails around Zoe's small left breast, causing her to sigh fearfully.

“I think I'd like that,” she whispered. “But it's so expensive.”

“We can work something out, I'm sure,” Nathalie reassured her. “Jen, don't you think it would look great to see Zoe with boobs bigger than yours?”

Jen knew how sensitive Zoe was, but Nathalie had her excited. “Yes, I'd love that,” she purred. “You need to do it.”

Zoe giggled. “OK, I'll think about it. And where are you getting tattooed tomorrow, Jenny?”

Maybe the wine had given her some courage, or maybe it was the proximity of the appointment, but Jen finally had to speak up. She turned to look at Nathalie but found she couldn't look her in the eye, and looked at the floor feeling her face flush with shame. “Actually, about that. I don't think I want a tattoo.” There was an awkward silence that seemed to last far too long. “I'm not ready yet. Maybe in a month or two.” Another long silence. “I'm sorry Nathalie.”

“It's Miss Nathalie to you!” Jen sensed her anger and muttered another apology. “You should apologise to Miss Zoe, too. She's your superior now, you're at the bottom of the hierarchy now.”

Jen felt her shame grow rapidly, but also felt a tremor of arousal. Nathalie's dominance was like a drug for her.

“Get undressed, now!” Jen complied immediately with the order. She glanced up at Zoe who looked confused, not sure how she was supposed to behave now. The wine seemed to be slowing her thinking.

“We have some options here,” Nathalie continued. “I can deny you any pleasure and humiliate you until you beg to be tattooed. Or I could just tie you up and let Reiko do as she pleases with you. Maybe just slip you some pills and you'll wake up with more tattoos than me.” Jen started to cry but she felt herself getting impossibly excited. She begged for mercy, but knew that Nathalie was furious with her. Nathalie told her firmly not to speak, then whispered something in Zoe's ear with the result of the younger woman hurriedly scuttling out of the room.

“I'm very disappointed, Jennifer,” Nathalie said now they were alone. “I'm going to humiliate you tomorrow in front of Reiko. And Nicole will be there too for more ink. I could see how much you were attracted to her, and now she'll see what a big baby you are.” Jen wanted to speak up, to apologise and offer herself to be willingly tattooed but she knew she'd been ordered to maintain her silence. She'd never seen Nathalie in this mood and didn't dare risk inflaming her wrath further.

Zoe returned to the room and was instructed to drop whatever she'd fetched behind Jen's back. She felt Zoe pull back her hair and tie it into a ponytail. Then a ball gag was forced into her lips and Nathalie buckled it very tightly at her nape. A leather hood was pulled down over her head, possibly the same one she'd worn the day she'd first encountered Zoe, but this time the eye holes were covered and Jen's vision was completely obscured. “These stay on till morning, Jennifer,” Nathalie cautioned. “You can have a night alone in the basement. Zoe and I will keep each other warm.”

Jen was guided down the stairs where she was ordered to lie on a bed. Her arms were shackled to the corners of the bed and her ankles were bound in cuffs which were then stretched wide apart as Nathalie attached them to the ends of a two foot steel rod. Jen bent her knees to test how much movement was allowed: barely any, as the rod was attached to a chain at the foot of the bed.

“I'll come and let you out in the morning. Sleep well,” Nathalie said coldly and slammed the door as she left. Jen was devastated but her treatment and sobbed uncontrollably. She was not only blinded, gagged and bound, but the basement was chilly and she hadn't had a chance to pee. She'd drank far too much wine to get through the night without needing the toilet.

Despite her fear and discomfort, Jen soon fell asleep, the exhaustion of her long, busy work day overwhelming all emotion. However, she slept poorly and soon woke to find herself shivering and desperately needing to relieve her bladder. She tried to call out but the gag muffled her cries. The tears again started to flow; she couldn't believe that Nathalie was treating her so cruelly and in her state of sleepy confusion she started to imagine that Nathalie and Diana were as bad as each other. She was in a half-waking state as she imagined returning to the hospital, her neck, arms and hands heavily tattooed and being made to display herself in the centre of the ward as Diana denounced her to the onlooking patients and medical staff. This nightmarish reverie ended as she thought she heard a sound next to her. Had she just imagined it? She called out inarticulately through the gag, in the hope that someone was there to come to her aid. There was no response and the room was now silent, despite which Jen couldn't shake off the sensation that someone else was present. After a few minutes she heard Nathalie's voice.

“You could sense me, couldn't you?” Jen nodded her head, turned toward the voice and tried to smile, although the size of the gag rendered it impossible. “I suppose you need to relieve your bladder, don't you?” Another nod. “OK, just try to relax...”

Jen felt a slippery finger probing at her labia, groaning into the gag as she realised that she wouldn't be released. Nathalie would again catheterise her. She felt her flesh being stretched and a burning, stinging pain as the tip was fed into her urethra. Zoe was assisting Nathalie, she was sure of that. The pain and humiliation no longer seemed important, all that she needed was to have relief from her bladder, which seemed on the point of bursting. Jen bit hard on the gag, begging for Nathalie to be swift. She felt an ecstatic sigh escape her as a valve opened and the pressure was relieved.

“Have you learnt your lesson, Jennifer?” Jen nodded her head to indicate her submission to Nathalie's will. “Well, you can stay here for the rest of the night. You can complete your apologies in the morning.”

Jen felt a hand caress her body. It was Zoe who spoke: “The poor little thing is freezing. Can we let her have a blanket or something? She'll get pneumonia.” A moment later a duvet was thrown over her body.

Nothing more was said. Jen heard the footsteps of her mistresses as they left the room. She remembered her first encounter with Zoe, the power she'd had over her. Now she could never imagine dominating her again, after this display of her weakness. She imagined how things might proceed at the tattooist's. She would be under Zoe's control, the younger woman's enthusiasm expressing itself in choosing Jen's tattoos, lots of brightly coloured tattoos. The idea terrified Jen, yet she kept letting her imagination follow this thread; remembering that Zoe loved punk music, and imagining that she chose garish punk tattoos to be forever embedded in Jen's skin. Part of her craved this, and craved the excitement it would cause in Zoe. Jen imagined the nights of excitement that would follow being tattooed, the new heights of ecstasy that she would attain. She pulled at the shackles which held her wrists, longing to touch herself.

“Wakey, wake, sleepy head!”

Jen was startled by Nathalie's voice. She seemed to have slept for a long time and took a few moments to remember where she was. Her tiredness had made her sleep well despite her unfamiliar situation. However, her lack of mobility was now manifested in aches in seemingly every joint. She moaned with relief as the restraints were removed from her limbs and she slowly pulled herself into a foetal ball, rolling onto her side. Nathalie unfastened the gag and prised it from Jen's jaws. Her muscles twitched painfully as she eased her mouth shut for the first time in many hours. “Thank you Miss Nathalie,” she groaned. “Thank you. I'm sorry about last night.”

Jen was helped to her feet. She was still unsteady, extending her arms to aid her balance, her sightlessness adding to her disorientation. Zoe removed the hood, and Jen screwed up her eyes as she tried to adjust to the light. Nathalie sniffed at her hair. “Eww, you smell like damp cellar. We'd better get you in the bath.”

Jen followed, noticing that Nathalie and Jen had been busy. Jen's hair had been styled into a gleaming bob, the top artfully mussed into stiff spikes. Her nape was smoothly shaved. Nathalie had given her dramatic smoky eye make-up, dark crimson lips and dark, angular arched brows. Nathalie's head was also freshly shaved and her make-up had also been applied, a much more restrained and classical style than Zoe's, pale lips and eyes accentuated with perfectly applied liner. Jen felt aggrieved that her role as Nathalie's barber had been usurped by Zoe. She knew she had to guard against such feelings; she felt such affection for Zoe that she wasn't going to allow jealousy or rivalry to poison their relationship.

By the time Jen had bathed, Nathalie and Zoe were dressed and called her to the dining room. She was made to wait on them, serving breakfast whilst still naked. Nathalie was still making her endure humiliations, having her kneel beside her lovers and beg for scraps from their plates. Zoe pushed pieces of food into Jen's mouth with her fingers, teasing her for being so weak. Jen wanted to cry.

Once Jen had cleared the table she was sat at the dressing table in the bedroom she shared with Nathalie, who brushed through her damp hair.

“Still don't want to be tattooed, do you?”

Jen paused for a long time. She could say she'd changed her mind and wanted a nice tattoo, but that wasn't what she felt and she knew that Nathalie always saw through any attempts at dishonesty. She decided that she should say how she felt.

“I don't, Miss Nathalie, the idea terrifies me, but I want to please you so I'll be tattooed.”

Nathalie and Zoe remained silent, letting Jen's unease grow. After a full minute, Nathalie curtly addressed Zoe: “Shave her.”

The stubble on Jen's undercut was massaged with a sweetly scented oil, then Zoe awkwardly held up a straight razor. “I'm only getting used to this so I'll try to be careful. You have to stay very still though, I don't want to hurt you.” Jen looked up into Zoe's eyes and saw she was being completely sincere. The desire and affection she saw in Zoe's gaze made Jen's heart beat faster. She felt her body being pulled tightly against Nathalie, who cradled Jen's head against her abdomen.

The blade dragged through the short hairs, scraping them free. Zoe moaned excitedly. “Your scalp is so smooth and white. You shouldn't let all this ginger fuzz cover it, Jen. It's so sexy to see you shaved.”

Jen was now alive with energy and suddenly all her misery seemed only a prelude to this moment of pure delight. “I'm sorry, Miss Zoe,” she gasped, “I'll keep it shaved.”

Zoe giggled. “Maybe you'd suit a completely bald head.” The razor was forced across the top of the sideshave, and a moment later Zoe held a fine strand of long blonde hair before Jen's face. Jen grunted in disbelief. Was Zoe really going to take away all of her hair? She was repelled by the idea but felt utterly helpless, a helplessness that somehow made her entire being thrill. She was unable to form any word of protest, and lay meekly against Nathalie's body.

“She would look pretty with no hair, much better than me,” Nathalie announced calmly. She paused for a long time before reprieving Jen's locks. “Not for the time being, though. I like her hair too much to let it go just yet. You have hacked a piece out at the hairline, Zoe, so I'll have to shave a little more to neaten up the line.” Jen muttered her gratitude.

Zoe carefully shaved away the rest of the stubble, working slowly and a little clumsily. Once she was happy with her work, Nathalie took over, and went over the shaved scalp with much more boldness. Zoe expressed her admiration, commenting that Nathalie was able to shave noticeably closer. Wisps of blonde hair were freed as Nathalie evened out the line at the top of the sideshave, which Zoe's over-enthusiasm had disrupted. “How much higher are you taking it?” Jen dared to ask.

“Just another centimetre. I can take it higher if you don't want me to.”

“Do as you please,” Jen said dreamily. She was unable to resist Nathalie.

A few minutes later Jen was allowed to rise from the chair and examine herself in the mirror. She lifted her hair away from the sideshave and rubbed at the scalp, which tingled at every contact. She shivered with excitement, her arousal increased as she noticed how much higher the shaved area had gone; surely Nathalie had underestimated how much more hair had been shaved.

“Give her a nice French braid, Zoe. I want all the shaved part to be visible today.” Zoe smiled and complied with Nathalie's command. As she manipulated Jen's hair into the elaborate plait, Nathalie added a few touches of make-up to Jen's eyes and lips.

“Since you're so reluctant to get a tattoo you'll be excluded from participating in all the fun. You'll be restrained so you can watch but do nothing. And when everyone else is finished you'll be inked and sent straight home.”

Jen nodded fearfully and meekly agreed to abide by her mistress' decision. Minutes later the three young women headed out to their appointment.

Reiko was waiting at the shop. She appeared delighted to see Nathalie and greeted Jen and Zoe warmly. Jen was transfixed by her appearance: long hair, dyed red with brightly coloured extensions woven through, a green undercut just visible when she moved her head. Her arms were tattooed with cute animals, huge eyes peering from friendly faces, all rendered in soft pastel hues. She had numerous facial piercings and her earlobes were stretched bigger than any Jen had ever seen: three inch rings held in place by thin loops of flesh.

“Nicole's going to be arriving very soon,” Nathalie informed her, “and Ella said she may join us, but I'd be amazed if she did. She sounded like she had something else on.”

The women were led into the tattoo studio by Reiko and Jen was immediately ordered to strip. “Is she my first? She's very pretty, and no ink at all!”

Nathalie shook her head. “She's an ungrateful little wretch so she's going to take no part. She can sit and watch our fun, then you can tattoo her when the more deserving people have all their ink finished.”

Reiko laughed, increasing Jen's shame. She peered at Jen's pierced labia, noticing the catheter, which Nathalie had refused to remove. “Is that a piercing? What the hell..?”

“No, it's a catheter. She can't control herself you see, so she needs to wear one so we can decide when she pees.” More laughter from Reiko.

“You're the one who doesn't want me to tattoo your pretty little skin? Don't you think I'm good enough?”

“No Miss Reiko,” Jen stammered. “I mean yes, I know you're a very good artist. I'm just very nervous but I want to be tattooed now.”

Nathalie interrupted. “Well you can wait! Sit in that chair!” Jen did as she was told and allowed Nathalie to tether her ankles and knees to the legs, opening herself up and increasing her vulnerability. A metal collar was padlocked around Jen's neck and a long steel bar fed through lugs at the back. Each end of the bar was fitted with cuffs which were locked around Jen's wrists. The chair was tipped back and dragged across the floor, leaving Jen sitting in the corner of the room. “Now you be a nice quiet young lady, and be nice to anyone who wants to use you. If you show you can be obedient I may forgive you by tomorrow.” Before she could even indicate her compliance, Jen had been left alone by Nathalie who turned her attentions to Zoe.

Reiko was already deep in discussion with Zoe, and Jen realised with some horror that her first tattoo was going to be placed on the back of her head. She turned and sat back to front on a chair and made herself comfortable as Reiko pinned up the bobbed locks and cleaned the entire shaved area. She was sitting side on to Jen, who couldn't see the design that was now being finalised on Zoe's nape using a transfer. A mirror was held up behind her so that she could approve the placement. Jen could see her eyes glittering. There was undoubtedly a trace of fear in Zoe's expression, but the fear was outweighed by arousal and desire. Zoe wanted this in a way that scared Jen. Would she ever share her friend's boldness and abandon?

Everything was happening too fast. Reiko had scrubbed her hands and put on gloves. She moved the tattooing machine into place and raised the needle to Zoe's scalp. There was a soft humming and Zoe groaned as her skin was marked for the first time. Reiko's face was a vision of concentration as she diligently attended to the task of rendering the design perfectly. Nathalie squeezed Zoe's hand and asked her if she was doing OK.

“Well, it kind of... fucking hurts! I'll be ok though. That little bitch over there though,” (she gestured towards Jen) “she'll make such a fuss, I bet.” Jen felt deeply hurt by Zoe's scathing remark but didn't dare protest. Reiko seemed unaware of the pain she was causing and continued working determinedly, pressing the needle hard into Zoe's scalp; Jen could see her head being forced forward slightly as each line was inked. Nathalie made soft reassurances to Zoe, stroking her arm and encouraging her to relax. Despite her suffering, Zoe was smiling. Jen imagined shaming herself when her turn came, acting just as Zoe predicted: blubbering, begging for mercy. She didn't know which scared her more, being tattooed or embarrassing herself.

There was a loud buzzing which made Jen jump. It took her a moment to realise it was the door bell. Nathalie went to admit the visitor as Reiko continued to work. Nathalie reappeared with Nicole, taller and more beautiful than Jen had remembered her. She didn't even notice Jen, tied in the corner. Nathalie introduced her to Zoe, whose tattooing was briefly paused to allow greetings. “This is Zoe, a new friend. She's getting her first tattoo.”

Nicole inspected the work and expressed her admiration. “Did you finish with Cassandra?” she asked Nathalie. “I liked her and you seemed to get on well.”

Nathalie waved toward her. “She's in the naughty corner.”

“Ah, did you dump her and take up with Zoe instead? If you don't want her, I'll have her.”

“Tell Nicole what you did, Jennifer.”

Nicole came over, smiling at Jen's plight. “I said I didn't want a tattoo,” she mumbled. She could feel her cheeks redden as Nicole stared at her.

“You surprise me. I thought you liked tattoos. I noticed the way you looked at mine.”

Nathalie joined Nicole now. “I think she likes more than your tattoos,” she whispered. “You've got a little crush on Nicole, haven't you? Did you think I wouldn't notice.”

Jen looked guiltily at Nathalie. “She's very beautiful, Miss, but you know I belong to you.”

Nicole interrupted. “Oh, me and Nat go back a long way. We're like sisters and we share everything. Would it be so terrible if we shared you?”

Jen didn't dare make eye contact with Nicole, looking up at Nathalie for guidance. She felt panic rising. She started to wish she'd never got involved in this world; she longed for a simple monogamous relationship at that moment. The word hubris kept repeating in her mind. She'd dared to believe that she could handle a relationship with Nathalie and now she was being punished for her over-confidence.

“You can do whatever you please with her for today,” Nathalie said dismissively, and returned to her role of supporting Zoe through her ordeal.

Nicole stroked her fingers over Jen's sideshave. “You shaved off more hair, didn't you Cassandra?”

Jen nodded shyly. “My name's Jennifer though, Miss Nicole. I was only called Cassandra for the film.”

“I prefer Cassandra. You don't mind me calling you Cassandra, do you?”

“No Miss.” Jen's breathing was becoming strained. Being seduced by a woman as beautiful as Nicole should have been pleasurable, but the presence of others in the room was making it unendurable. The uncomfortable bondage only added to Jen's insecurity.

“You're a very sexy woman, Cassandra,” Nicole whispered, still caressing Jen's scalp. “But I'd like you even better with some tattoos. Look how much fun Zoe's having with her tattooing. Will you get a tattoo for me?”

Jen nodded. “I've agreed to get a tattoo, Miss.”

“What and where?”

Jen squirmed as she confessed she had relinquished control of that. “Miss Nathalie and Miss Zoe can decide.”

“Oh, how cool.” Nicole was obviously excited by the idea. “How about we each choose a tattoo for you?”

“I'll get three tattoos today?”

Nicole seemed to interpret the question as an agreement to her plan. She went over to Nathalie and enthusiastically informed her that Cassandra had requested that each of them choose a tattoo for her. Nathalie seemed sceptical. “You tell me you don't want a tattoo, but now you want three to impress Nicole. Should I be jealous?”

“No Miss. It was her suggestion, and I'd already agreed to do as you said, Miss Nathalie.”

Nicole kissed Nathalie on the temple. “She'll look so hot all tatted up. Let her go next.”

“No, she's going to wait here till everyone else is finished. That's her punishment. She still hates the idea, despite what she's telling you, so she can stew here and get herself worked into a panic. She's going to find out what submission really means today.”

Nathalie's ire was momentarily defused as Zoe was allowed up from her seat to take a break. It was Jen's first proper sighting of the tattoo, and she stared fixedly at the design, a pyramid bearing an all seeing eye. It was at least two and a half inches high and was extremely prominent on the back of Zoe's head. The younger woman looked delirious as she held up a mirror to allow her to see her new tattoo. “Oh Reiko, it's just perfect. So cool. Really worth all the pain!”

“Thank you Zoe. I want to shade it next but I think we both need a break. Just get a coffee and chat with your friends for ten or fifteen.”

Zoe came over to allow Jen a closer look. “What do you think?”

“It's lovely, Miss Zoe. So bold and brave. Very sexy, Miss.”

She spun around and pressed her lips to Jen's, violently forcing her head back as far as the collar permitted. Her tongue slid inside and poked repeatedly at Jen's tongue piercing.

“Oh god, I'm so turned on. The pain is weird, I started to like it after a bit, and it's made me so horny.” She kneaded Jen's breasts roughly and gave her another powerful kiss. “I can't wait to see you getting tattooed Jen.”

Jen's delight increased as she felt Nathalie tip her head to the side and kiss her shaved scalp. Her hands flapped uselessly as she thought how she'd like to pull Nathalie close and return her kiss, but she remained frustratingly immobile. She moaned and begged to be released from her bondage. “I've learnt my lesson, Miss. I'll let you do as you please.”

Nathalie reached down and stroked Jen's damp slit. “I'm only going to release you when your first tattoo is finished. And that won't happen until Zoe, Nicole and I have all been tattooed by Reiko. But you get to watch everything, so it's not so bad, is it?”

Zoe was now settling into the chair again as Reiko prepared to continue working on her. “No Miss, it's getting me very aroused.”

Nicole came to sit with Jen and Nathalie now, raking her long nails over Jen's body. “Is it ok if I go next, Nat. I have quite a lot that I want to get done today and I can't wait any longer to start.” She leaned forward to whisper in Nathalie's ear, telling her of her plans. Nathalie moaned excitedly.

“That's so hot,” she whispered, and the two friends kissed passionately, their heads inches in front of Jen's face. Nicole repeatedly flicked her hair so that it whipped against Jen's breasts, each touch making her sensitised body shiver with anticipation. It was Nathalie who finally broke away from the clinch. “I better get you ready then, Nicole.”

Nicole undressed. She appeared so nonchalant as she discarded her clothes but Jen could see that she had an uncanny awareness of her body and every move seem calculated to seduce. She pulled over her chair and sat showing her right profile to Jen, who still had a good view of Reiko working on Zoe. Excited as she was by the tattooing, Jen's attention suddenly shifted exclusively to Nicole when she saw that Nathalie had produced a set of clippers.

Nicole's hair was brushed out; it gleamed under the bright spot lights, dark, thick and healthy. Nathalie made a part high on the right. “Is that high enough, Nicole?” She nodded. Without delay, Nathalie turned on the clippers and placed the bare blades at the side of Nicole's forehead. She forced them back along the parting, and Jen watched with fascination as long strands of hair began to slide free, a torrent of hair spilling over Nicole's heavily tattooed body. A bald stripe had appeared now, connecting forehead to crown and Nicole reached up to touch it. She giggled at the unfamiliar sensation, glanced over at Jen and blew her a kiss.

“We're both going to be sideshaved now, Cassandra. You inspired me.” Even as she spoke, Nathalie sheared another expanse of hair from the side of Nicole's head. The blades returned to her temple and mowed away more locks. “Oh, god, yes,” Nicole moaned. “I need a drink! I thought this was a party. Where are the drinks?”

“Reiko doesn't allow alcohol,” Nathalie replied gloomily. “Says it increases bleeding and interferes with healing.” Reiko smiled cheerfully and poked out her tongue.

“You want good tattoos so you abide by my rules. You want to get drunk, you can go to some back street place that does drunken sailors.”

“Oh Reiko, that's so mean!” Nicole complained. “You're such a party pooper!”

“You didn't think I wouldn't have an alternative, did you?” Nathalie smiled slyly. “You know how resourceful I am.”

“Oh, Nat, you never let us down.”

“When Zoe's tattoo is finished and you're shaved I'll get out our supplies.”

The clippers were rapidly ravaging Nicole's beautiful hair and now a large expanse of scalp had been exposed. Natalie edged the blades down behind her ear, baring more skin. They cut very close and barely a shadow remained, despite the dark colour of Nicole's hair.

“Look at Jennifer, she's entranced. I'm not sure she approves of me cutting off your hair.”

“I can't think of her as Jennifer. 'Jennifer': it sounds so mundane. She should always be Cassandra. That was the name you chose for her.”

Nathalie laughed. “You're right. She's going to be Cassandra from now on. Do you like her new name, Zoe?”

“Oh, it's beautiful. I love that she doesn't even choose her own name. Will you rename me too?”

Nathalie turned off the clippers and stroked Nicole's freshly shaved scalp, much to her delight, as she considered this. “You can be my little Trojan princesses, Cassandra and... Andromache.”

“Anne-donkey? What sort of name is that?” Nicole laughed incredulously.

“Andromache! She was Hector's wife, and Cassandra's sister-in-law. Schliemann called his daughter Andromache.”

“Well he was an obvious idiot, whoever he may have been. It's a ridiculous name, and you can't call Zoe that. Pick a better one and stop obsessing about Greeks.”

“You should be careful what you say, Nicole. I still have the clippers in my hand!”

“You know I'm right. Anyway, if you got her tattooed with her new name it would be enormous.”

“And I could never spell it,” Reiko added.

Nathalie looked glum. “You like it, don't you Zoe?”

Even Zoe was opposed to Nathalie's plan. “It is quite a mouthful. I'm not sure. Maybe something more..?”

“Et tu, Zoe!” Nathalie cried with mock hurt. “OK, not Andromache! You all win. I'll think it over, but you're not Zoe any more. You can be the girl with no name for now!”

“Thank you, Miss.” The girl with no name's voice signalled her relief.

Nathalie now once more gave her full attention to Nicole, tidying up the shaved section behind her ear. “What about if I leave you a long sideburn lock?” She smoothed out the last piece of long hair remaining at the right side of Nicole's head.

“Maybe... Can you pass me the mirror, I want to see how it looks.” She whistled as she saw herself for the first time with her sideshave. “Wow, I didn't think it would look so high. What do you think, Cassandra. Should I keep the sideburn?”

“Cassandra”, as she was now trying to get used to thinking of herself, nodded. “I like it Miss. You can keep it for now and if you decide you don't like it you can shave it. It would take a while to grow back.”

Nicole winced. “Years. I don't even want to think about growing it out. Damn you, Nathalie, you're so persuasive when you want to be. I hope I don't come to regret this!”

“Oh, stop being a baby, you look sexier than ever. Now let's get this scalp nice and smooth. Reiko's nearly done with no name and you're next up.” Nicole tipped her head to the side as Nathalie dribbled oil over her scalp and massaged it into the short stubble. Then a straight razor was produced and scraped gently over her scalp. Cassandra could see the edge of the blade darken as the oily stubble collected there. A pale area opened up across the side of Nicole's head. Cassandra stared in wonder to see Nicole's transformation.

As the shaving neared completion Nathalie spoke. “Nicole, I think it's time you let me shave off your brows. No arguments, please. You know it's for the best.” She hardly gave Nicole time to react and quickly worked the blade into the right brow, pulling the skin taut on her forehead.

“Oh shit, Nat! Don't!” she wailed, but already knew it was too late.

“Reiko can tattoo on really sexy new ones for you. I might even start to think you're pretty if you do that.”

Nicole groaned. “Thanks a bunch! That really makes me feel good. Let me see what you've done to me.” She peered in the mirror and grimaced. “That's just freaky... And I'm not getting tattooed brows. No way, Nat. I'm just going to grow my real ones back in.”

A few minutes later Nathalie had drawn in beautifully shaped arched brows, a warm red shading to fine black points at the outer edges. Nicole blushed as she saw them, and squeaked with pleasure. “See, I told you it was a good idea. You look so, so pretty. Just go and see what Cassandra thinks of your new look.”

Cassandra found herself blushing as Nicole displayed herself, her naked, tattooed body moving seductively in a slow serpentine saraband. She slowed to near immobility and gazed into Cassandra's eyes. “Is it an upgrade, Cassandra? Or do you hate it?”

“You look amazing, Miss. You always did, but you're almost unrecognisable from the woman who arrived here this morning. I love your new look.”

Cassandra's joy was doubled as Zoe approached, turning her back to Cassandra to show her completed tattoo. The pyramid was now heavily shaded, the ashlar carefully delineated. The eye had been realised with exceptional virtuosity by Reiko, the subtle brown shades of the iris the only colour in an otherwise monochrome image. “Zoe, it looks perfect. I love it.”

Nathalie intervened. “Her name isn't Zoe, it's Ilione. And it's Miss Ilione to you.”

“That's a strange name,” Nicole observed. “Where did you get it from?”

“She was Cassandra's sister. Her elder sister though, and don't forget it, Cassandra.”

“It's still an odd name,” Nicole continued. “But it is quite pretty. And much nicer than Androgyny, or whatever it was.”

“It's my curse to be surrounded forever by philistines,” Nathalie complained with fake gravitas.

“It's your curse to be surrounded forever by women with better hair than you. That's why you're always grumpy.”

“Enough of your cheek, Nicole. Go and get yourself ready for some ink. Reiko can see to you now.”

“Wait a minute! You said you had something to make the party go with a bang. You need to break it out now. Don't be stingy.”

“Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten.” Nathalie went to a cupboard and rummaged through some boxes before sliding out a long metal canister which she'd secreted there. “I got this through a supplier. No idea what it is though.” She connected a long plastic tube to the valve, the other end of which ended in a mask. “Want to try it?” she asked Nicole, brandishing the mask toward her.

“Not sure I do. You really don't know what it is?”

“I'm sure it's safe. Fairly safe anyway. And a nice buzz. I'm sure Cassandra isn't afraid to sample it. Are you honey?”

Nathalie's faith in Cassandra's bravery was misplaced, but her bonds made resistance impossible. Her eyes were wide with panic as the mask was fitted tightly over her nose and mouth. Ilione stroked at her neck reassuringly as she pulled the elastic strap around the back of her head, fixing the mask in place.

Nathalie turned the valve until a soft hiss was audible. Cassandra moaned in protest and realised her fear had caused her ribs and diaphragm to become paralysed, stopping any possibility of breathing. “Breathe it in,” Nathalie told her. “It'll relax you.” When Cassandra didn't comply, Nathalie bent forward and started to kiss her neck; a moment later Ilione began kissing her neck on the opposite side. The collar had chafed and the soft kisses on the raw skin were beautiful. Nathalie's lips moved upward slowly and now she was kissing the shaved scalp on the left side of Cassandra's head. Her hands stroked at Cassandra's body, overwhelming her senses. For a moment she was no longer aware of where she was, living entirely in the moment, living only through her sense of touch. She felt like she was floating, her lovers causing her to defy gravity, their bodies entwined. She took a deep breath, then another and felt a darkness take over her vision, perceptible despite her eyes being tightly closed. A delicious tingling numbness passed over her skin and she started to involuntarily mumble a prayer of gratitude which was frequently interrupted by giggling.

When Cassandra opened her eyes she saw Nathalie was reaching to take away the mask. “Leave it, Miss,” she complained.

“Any more and you'll fall asleep. Later, Cassandra. It'll be better if you have a bit at a time.”

The speech seemed distant, slow, reverberant, her own as much as Nathalie's. In the time Nathalie had spoken her interest had shifted to Nicole, who sat at a small table, facing Reiko. Her hands were spread on the table and Reiko was tattooing her knuckles. She had long, elegant fingers, tipped with elongate, pointed nails and Cassandra was entranced by seeing these beautiful fingers being profaned with tattoos. She stared in silence now, so immobile that Nathalie and Ilione started to laugh at her level of intense concentration. She found herself joining in the laughter without knowing why; the gas had made her very susceptible to giggling.

A glance up at Ilione turned into another prolonged stare. Her friend seemed unrecognisable with her hair pinned up, the full extent of her undercut exposed. She took a step forward to get a better view of Reiko's work on Nicole's fingers, bringing her tattoo into Cassandra's line of sight. The eye seemed real now, the intoxication making Cassandra hallucinate. It seemed to slowly rotate in its socket and the lids blinked more than once. The eye turned to look at Cassandra and while they gazed at each other she felt sure she was party to some hidden, profound knowledge, an arcane secret of the universe. Time was suspended because she knew what time was.

Gradually the sounds of the room came back to her: rock music on the radio, the buzzing of the needle, good natured chat between Nathalie, Ilione and Nicole. Cassandra smiled at how ordinary it all seemed to her, but how she was above all this now because of her special knowledge. But what exactly was it she knew? She felt a sudden loss, a grief as she realised that she'd forgotten the revelation that the eye had given her. She looked up at the back of Ilione's head and saw only a tattoo, beautifully rendered, but lifeless. She sighed as she realised her apocalypse was a mere folly of intoxication.

Nathalie smiled at her indulgently and kissed her affectionately on the lips. “Back with us, are you? You were looking at Ilione in a really strange way. What happened?”

“I... I thought the eye in her tattoo was real.” She was too embarrassed to discuss that she thought it had given her the secrets of time and the universe.

“Oh, so the gas is good stuff, is it?”

Cassandra nodded bashfully. “Very good, Miss.” She then begged to have her arms released from their bondage. Her muscles were being to twitch uncontrollably and the collar was taking the full weight of her arms. “The skin at the bottom of the collar feels raw.”

Nathalie examined her neck and frowned. “My poor little baby! It does look sore. If it comes off you have to swear to do exactly as you're told for the rest of the day. Any hesitation and you'll be collared again.” Cassandra pledged her obeisance; by now any thoughts of rebellion had been safely banished from her thoughts.

Nathalie freed Cassandra's hands, then prised the collar open and eased it from her neck. She rubbed a balm over the distressed skin, giving a blessed relief.

“So you recommend that stuff?” Nicole called across.

“Oh yes, Miss, it was very nice,” Cassandra replied.

“OK, give me some, Nathalie! This really hurts and I could use something to take my mind off it.” A moment later she was masked and took a few deep breaths of the gas. Her eyes seemed to glaze and a stillness overtook her body.

“Can I continue?” Reiko asked. Nicole nodded.

As the needle began to buzz again Nicole spoke, her voice solemn and abnormally slow, as if she had to concentrate to enunciate each syllable. “No pain at all. Just a nice tingle.” The last word trailed off into a delirious moan. She turned to smile at her friends and held out her right hand, the knuckle tattoos completed now. Cassandra saw she'd been marked with a different symbol on each; mysterious arcane symbols, which somehow seemed to relate to the delusion she'd experienced after hallucinating. She was still left with a powerful sense that there was an occult secret at work here, to which she and Reiko were party. She was also aware that it was probably paranoia as a result of the drug she'd inhaled. Was it still paranoia if she knew it was paranoia?

Self aware or not, Cassandra was fascinated by the tattoos that now decorated Nicole's fingers and stared at them, trying to piece together some meaning. “They're beautiful, Miss,” she whispered. “I'd feared that when Miss Nathalie shaved your scalp that you might have been planning a scalp tattoo.”

Nicole gave Cassandra a weird smile. “Would that have been so bad?”

“It might have been a bit much.”

Nicole hissed at Reiko and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. A moment later the tattooist rose and pressed the needle to the bared side of Nicole's head. Cassandra gasped in shock as she saw her scalp being freely inked, long thin lines appearing between Nicole's ear and her crown.

A long blissful moan escaped from Nicole's lips. “That feels good, so good. You need to try this stuff Nathalie.”

“Don't worry, I sampled it,” she laughed. “I wouldn't let my girls use something without making sure it was of the highest quality.”

Ilione seemed as aroused as Cassandra by this unexpected development in Nicole's tattooing, and started to kiss Cassandra excitedly.

“Oh, she's so beautiful, isn't she Cassie? I want to have more tattoos than her, and I want you to have more tattoos than me.” She reached down and started to tug at Cassandra's labial rings. The drug seemed to inhibit her pain sensation and there was no discomfort in Ilione's roughness, only pleasure. Cassandra imagined submitting to being heavily tattooed and moaned with fear, but it was a fear that made her sexual arousal grow to a peak.

She glanced across the room and saw that Nathalie was masked, inhaling the intoxicating gas. She then placed the mask over Ilione's face and let her imbibe her share of the chemical. She slumped forward against Cassandra as her muscles relaxed, then a moment later continued to kiss her. “We're special sisters now, princesses. You can feel our special connection, can't you?” Cassandra nodded. She was still sufficiently suggestible as a result of the gas to believe in what Ilione was saying. “We need to fix your hair though. Your hair's still a bit too... Jennifer. We need to make it all Cassandra.”

“No, don't cut my hair,” Cassandra complained weakly. Nathalie pressed a finger to her lips.

“Didn't you promise to be obedient? And now you're defying Princess Ilione.”

“Yes, but work...”

Her complaints were ignored. Ilione was whispering in Nathalie's ear. The two women looked in each other's eyes for a long time, smiling, giggling, their bliss plain to see in their eyes. Nathalie initiated a kiss which seemed to last forever.

“Ohhh. Oh god,” she moaned. “Ilione... Ilione...” The name seemed like a magical incantation. “Where were we?”

“Cassandra... Her hair?”

“Oh yes,” Nathalie yelped enthusiastically. “How could I have forgotten? Unwind her braid while I get the stuff ready.”

Cassandra sat helplessly as Ilione eased her tresses apart, and ran her fingers through to ease out any tangles. Even if she'd had the will to resist her arms dangled uselessly, the joints aching from the hours of bondage they'd endured, and her legs remained fixed to the chair.

“Oh please Miss, no,” Cassandra begged as she saw Nathalie preparing the clippers.

“Do I need to collar you again, you ungrateful wretch?”

“Miss, it's just that I have a hard time in work with my hair as it is.”

Ilione interjected. “Just give her some gas, that will take care of her jitters.”

Nathalie smiled. “You can give it to her, Ilione.” Both of them still spoke with an artificiality that showed they remained intoxicated.

Cassandra felt the mask pressing hard against her face. As the gas fizzled though the tube she knew it was pointless to resist. She breathed it in, a slight sharpness in her throat indicating that she was no longer breathing air. Her mind was thrown into a sudden confusion and she felt the delicious numbness pass into her limbs once more. Ilione took hold of her head, cradling it tight to her body, holding her curls up to allow Nathalie access to cut the right side with the clippers.

The blades were placed on Cassandra's cheek, in front of her ear. Nathalie moved them slowly, her reflexes slowed by the drug. The buzzing seemed to spread out from the source until it made Cassandra's entire body throb; it seemed like the tingling that she felt shared some resonant frequency with the buzzing of the clippers and the two had combined in a sympathetic vibration. Cassandra's fear had been washed away and she moved her hands until she could reach the rings in her labia, tugging at them roughly. She felt a heavy hank of hair fall into her lap but wasn't consciously aware any more of what was falling. She pressed her head harder against Ilione's body, taking great pleasure in the contact of her shaved scalp against the younger girl's bare skin. She imagined that if they maintained a good contact then Ilione would also be subject to the delicious vibrations which still engulfed her.

Nathalie was reaching across to feel where the shave stopped on the left side of Cassandra's head, then ran the clippers back, high on the right side. She still worked slowly, carefully. Once she'd established this line she seemed to relax and mowed away the hair below the parting more quickly. Ilione's fingers reached down to push Cassandra's ear forward and held it there as the clippers moved in an arc around the edge of her hairline. When the ear was freed, Ilione made Cassandra lower her head to expose her nape, and the clippers shaved more hair away, until symmetry had been established. Cassandra's nape was entirely bare except for a V of hair which projected down from her crown, the point ending just above her occipital bone.

Not quite entirely bare: there was a little raspy stubble there when Ilione rubbed at the area of scalp which had just been clippered, but Nathalie wasn't going to let that remain. Cassandra's disappointment at the cessation of clippering was tempered by her delight as the perfumed oil was used to anoint her scalp (Nathalie used it over all of the undershaved area). The sensation of the razor scraping at her scalp was almost unendurably pleasurable and Ilione could only keep her from moving her head by tightly gripping the long hair at her crown and pulling Cassandra's head firmly into her body.

A broad smile was fixed on Cassandra's face as Nathalie wiped her scalp. “Put her hair in two braids, nice and tight,” she instructed Ilione, who set to her task with relish. Cassandra was suddenly aware of her surroundings for what seemed like the first time in hours. She saw that Nicole now had a large black flower on her scalp, three inches across, very detailed, and partially shaded so that each petal looked wet and gleaming. Reiko was now surrounding the flower with spiny leaves, outlining each with an acid green ink. The tattoo seemed to threaten to spill out across Nicole's temple, beyond the area where it would be covered by her hair if it grew back.

Ilione gave a tremulous coo. “Look at Nicole's tattoo! It's so big and pretty. I wish I had a tattoo like that.”

Cassandra could only stare. She remembered how surprised she's been to see the extent of Nicole's tattoos. She'd first met her at the hospital, fully clothed, elegant. She could have fitted in to any polite gathering. Today that had changed: almost half of her head was shaved and her scalp bore a strident tattoo, her face was adorned with strangely artificial painted brows and her knuckles were covered by dark tattoos. Cassandra envied her for her boldness, for being ready to sacrifice so much. Nicole looked ravishing.

Reiko continued to draw the leaves, describing them with a fine network of green lines. Cassandra and Ilione sat watching in stupefied silence for a long time, barely aware of anything else. Eventually Nicole gave a long groan. “That's really starting to hurt now, and my neck is aching from sitting still. I need a break.” Reiko agreed that it was time for lunch and wiped away the excess ink from Nicole's scalp. She rose stiffly from the chair and approached a mirror to take in her new appearance. “Oh, it's very black. Does it look OK, ladies?” She turned to her friends for reassurances. They were given in abundance. A sudden surprise registered in her eyes. “Cassandra, your hair, you shaved more! I hadn't even noticed. Were you worried I was outdoing you with my sidecut?”

Cassandra blushed. She felt confused. She'd forgotten her hair had been cut, and even more shocked that this could have happened. How could she forget having such a lot of hair shaved off? The gas had made her forgetful. She had to be careful. She realised that she still hadn't seen her new haircut and asked for a mirror.

The reflection shocked her and Cassandra struggled to contain her emotions. She saw a girl who appeared bald apart from a tightly braided blonde crest along the top of her head. There were two long braids hanging at the back, but these looked so thin and scrawny. Her features were very exposed and she was browless: she looked pale and androgynous.

“She looks so beautiful, doesn't she?” Nathalie asked and Nicole agreed that she looked better than ever. Cassandra saw her cheeks redden in the mirror. She didn't at all like her new haircut, but loved that it pleased her friends so much.

“Oh, you're shaking,” Ilione observed. “Are you cold?”

Cassandra looked and saw her hands were trembling quite violently. “No, I'm not cold. Maybe it's the drug..?”

Nathalie sagely nodded. “You need something to calm you down. Swallow, honey.” A tiny white pill was slipped into Cassandra's mouth and washed down with a sip of water.

“What was it?” she asked, worried that Nathalie seemed intent on drugging her without even letting her know what she was ingesting, and not for the first time.

“Just something to relax you. You need your catheter out and it will make that more comfortable.”

Cassandra sat pliantly as Nathalie probed at her labia, then eased the catheter out. There was a mild stinging and an uneasy sensation as the tubing slid out of her urethra. A feeling of relief passed through her body. “Thank you Miss Nathalie,” she smiled. “May I lie down? I suddenly feel tired.” Already the tablet was causing her to slur her speech.

Nathalie and Ilione freed her legs from the chair and helped her over to a padded table across the room. “I love you all so much,” she chuckled. “I love everyone here.” Within a minute she was asleep.

It was much later when Cassandra woke. She felt refreshed and healthy despite some stiffness in her arms and neck. As she became aware of her surroundings she gasped. Nathalie was sitting for Reiko now and had a large tattoo outlined on the left side of her head, reaching from temple to nape. The tattoo was composed of curving interlocking lines, like a dense thorn bush. Overlaid across the design were unpigmented circles varying in size, the largest about an inch in diameter. Cassandra felt an unease at the boldness of Nathalie's tattoo. It changed her look profoundly and she wasn't sure she approved. “Oh Miss, your head,” she groaned.

“It's wonderful, isn't it?” Ilione said, reaching out to stroke Cassandra's hand. She now had a four inch high cross inked on her chest, the top aligned with the gap between her collar bones. The cross was surrounded by crystalline points jutting in random directions, except that the patterns were mirrored symmetrically left and right, up and down.

As when a memory of a forgotten dream is suddenly triggered the following day, Cassandra now started to recall some of the earlier events. She reached up to feel her head and shivered as she realised she was nearly bald. She recalled that Ilione's scalp had been tattooed, but was unable to remember the actual design, and since her friend sat staring lovingly into her eyes, she was unable to see the tattoo for the time being.

She looked for Nicole with a sense of dread, aware that something had changed. She felt her stomach contract as she saw how her beautiful friend had been transformed, hair shaved brutally and scalp disfigured with a heavy tattoo, which gave her beauty a gothic, even slightly monstrous, edge.

Nathalie smiled over at Cassandra. “Rested now, darling? It's your turn with Reiko soon.” Her voice had a distant quality which reminded Cassandra that everyone's experiences had been chemically enhanced.

It was Reiko who spoke. “Actually, that's a good place to finish work on your tattoo for today, Nathalie. Let me get you cleaned up, then I can have a quick rest while you get Cassandra ready for me.”

The feeling of paranoia that Cassandra experienced as she was taken to the chair wasn't, she was sure, entirely a side-effect of the drugs. She was experiencing a sense of dread as she realised she was about to receive her first permanent changes. She hadn't been consulted about what type of tattoos would be placed on her body and believed that she wouldn't be. It wasn't defiance that had piqued Nathalie's anger, it was her timidity. Now she wouldn't be allowed the privilege of timidity: she would leave this room a tattooed woman.

“You know, we've all got scalp tattoos today. Is she going to get one too?” Ilione asked, her fingers stroking at Cassandra's bald temple. “It would just look so sweet...”

“Oh please, not that,” she protested, but her voice was barely audible. Part of Cassandra's psyche, the masochist part, wanted to relinquish control, wanted to break free of all the concerns of her mundane life; wanted to be Cassandra and abandon Jennifer to the past.

Nicole and Nathalie crowded close to her too, and Cassandra could sense the other's expectation as she deliberated on what Reiko would be allowed to do.

“Do you know what happened to the original Cassandra? When Troy fell she was captured and enslaved by Agamemnon, the leader of the Greek army. And slaves would have been marked by tattoos. They would have been shaved sometimes too to indicate their status. Imagine that, the most beautiful princess in Troy, the priestess of Apollo, humiliated by having her head shorn and having ugly, demeaning tattoos needled into her skin!” Nathalie rubbed and pinched at Cassandra's breasts as she tormented her with the story. “She was taken back to Agamemnon's palace at Mycenae and displayed to all as a slave. Is that what you want, to be displayed as a slave, shorn and tattooed?”

Cassandra could find no word of answer. There is no cure, and rescue’s far away, she thought. I must endure this, not endure it because Nathalie compels me but because of an existential need. She suddenly had the courage to look Nathalie in the eye and signal her consent.

Reiko was approaching now, gloved and ready to transform her. Cassandra's suffering would be mercifully diminished; Ilione held the mask over her face as Nathalie opened the valve. She drew a breath and felt her limbs grow heavy. She would submit to the tattooing as her mistress desired. Suddenly she felt panic as she remembered Ilione's prompting to tattoo her scalp. That mustn't happen, she wouldn't be able to go into work visibly tattooed. She tried to call out to Nathalie to beg for the tattoos to be concealed in work but her tongue refused to obey. She mumbled inarticulately and a few moments later the panic had passed as the intoxication intensified: she could no longer recall what had concerned her.

The memories of her first tattooing would always be fragmentary for Cassandra. There was little pain due to the anaesthetic qualities of the gas, merely a pleasurable prickling. The attentions of her friends also contributed to Cassandra's joy. She was unable to say how long it was before she was helped from the bed (she didn't remember transferring there from the chair) and standing unsteadily between two large mirrors. Her body now bore three large tattooed flowers, the first above her pubis, three inches wide and lemon yellow, the others twice as wide: a blue cornflower on the left of her ribcage, a red peony on her right hip. All were clearly delineated with fine black lines and boldly coloured. In addition new piercings had been added: four heavy titanium rings were suspended from each of her outer labia and her inner labial piercings had been stretched to receive equally thick rings.

Cassandra shivered with wonder as she saw the extent of her tattoos. “Thank you Miss Reiko,” she said modestly. “You're a real artist. All the tattoos you've given us are so personal, and all beautifully executed. And thank you Nathalie for giving me the option of covering them when I'm in work.”

Nathalie kissed her tenderly. “Don't imagine that will last forever. You're going to be my little flower slave. I've already made a date with Reiko for more work. Now let's head home, we need to celebrate.”

In the two months that had passed since her tattooing day, Cassandra's life had taken a nightmarish turn. Diana's campaign of bullying and demeaning her had increased when she saw the new hairstyle she'd been given, and the matter had reached a head when the patient who'd previously reported Diana's lies had urged Cassandra to make a stand. A discussion with her new ally revealed that she was a lawyer with a detailed knowledge of employment law. Since the complaints that both women had made had been seemingly disregarded, Gwen informed her that she had a good case for constructive dismissal. Her employers had failed to abide by the terms of their contract and she could terminate her employment and seek compensation.

An agonised Cassandra went to see the ward manager to try desperately to remedy the situation but was effectively told that it was her word against Diana's. The manager looked horrified when Cassandra told her in that case she had no option but to immediately end her employment and seek legal redress (Gwen had already helped her to draft her letter). She went back to the ward to inform Gwen, who immediately recommended a colleague to represent her; she would act as a witness and would therefore not risk being accused of a lack of neutrality. Cassandra's last action in the hospital was to tell Diana that she would be a nurse down for the rest of the shift. “And don't think you've won by getting rid of me. I'm going to pursue this in court and every lie you've told is going to be investigated. You're an evil shit stirring old witch and soon everyone will know it. And I can't imagine the board are going to be best pleased with you when they have to pay me all that compensation.” Diana started to tell her that she was being stupid and should get back to work. “No, I don't work here any more. And just so you know, my lawyer will be taking her evidence to the Royal College, so don't think your registration is safe either. Bye, Diana.” Cassandra waved an insulting gesture behind her as she left the office.

The elation and bravado she experienced when finally confronting Diana had soon dissipated and Cassandra had slipped into a depression: constant anxiety, sleeplessness, inability to concentrate. She'd also become very paranoid about her relationship with Nathalie, fearing that her case would be undermined if anyone realised that she was living with a former patient. She decided that she should move out, at least until the case was finished, but Nathalie was distraught. She'd been incredibly patient and supportive of Cassandra and was convinced that if she was living on her own then her mental health would suffer even more. Eventually a compromise was reached and Cassandra moved in with Nicole until the case was resolved, although her lawyer, Julia, had warned that it may be months before any decision would be made, and if it went to tribunal then the delay would be even longer.

Not a day passed without Nathalie or Ilione (who was now living in Nathalie's home) visiting, and it soon became apparent to Cassandra that her friends were being careful to minimise the time when she was left alone. She started to despair of the actions she'd taken, convinced that her case would fail and that she would never work again.

And so, two months after her resignation from the hospital, Cassandra was called by her lawyer to inform her that a meeting had been arranged the following week with representatives of the hospital. She suggested that her case was so strong that they'd try to settle without going to tribunal, but felt that tribunal was the way to proceed. Cassandra disagreed. She just wanted this to be over and would accept any judgement that exonerated her. The lawyer was sympathetic and promised to act to get the best possible settlement.

Nicole found Cassandra staring at herself in the mirror. “Oh look at me! I look terrible and next week I need to face a big hearing.” Nicole stroked at her hair.

“You've not been looking after yourself. You need a trip to the salon, and we can do that right now. Once your hair looks pretty again you'll feel much better. In a week this is all going to be over and you can move on with your life.”

Cassandra hadn't allowed her hair to be touched since her day at Reiko's studio. Her undershave was now covered by an inch of uneven red hair and the long blonde hair had a considerable amount of darker shade visible at the roots. Her brows had also been allowed to grow back in.

“How can I possibly look presentable, Nicole? I can't put my hair up because the undercut shows, but the undercut's too high to be hidden with my hair down. Am I going to have to get it cut short?”

Nicole embraced her friend, who she could see was on the verge of tears. “It could work for you. Diana's alleged that you've been flirting with male patients, then you appear at the hearing as an out lesbian with a butch look.”

Cassandra wailed. “You really want me to get a butch cut?”

“Not really, I was joking.” She hadn't been, but Nicole could see her suggestion hadn't been at all well received. “Let's see what Sarah can suggest. She's a really good stylist, been doing my hair for years. Although she hasn't seen me since your girlfriend attacked me with the razor. That's going to be an interesting meeting.”

Within the hour Cassandra had taken her place in Sarah's chair in a very stylish small salon in an upmarket shopping centre in the centre of the city. Sarah was still obsessing about Nicole's dramatic new look. “I can't believe you've shaved off all that gorgeous hair. And that tattoo! I'm not sure it's you.”

Sarah was clearly a woman who appreciated long hair. Her own hair fell in thick, gleaming auburn waves to near her elbows.

“Well it is me now,” Nicole replied drily. “Tattoos are pretty permanent. Anyway, it's Cassie who needs your help. Can you concentrate on your job instead of pretending to be my mother?”

Sarah laughed. “Touched a nerve, did I?” She combed through Cassandra's hair and tutted as she saw the extent of her undercut. “You're another one who's been playing with clippers? Was it you who convinced Nicole to shave?”

“Oh, no,” Cassandra said innocently, but Nicole interrupted.

“Well, she does take some of the responsibility, She looked so cute with her sidecut that I had to try it too.” Cassandra found herself blushing at Nicole's compliment. She was still in awe of Nicole's beauty and confidence. “But she has an interview next week and needs to do something to make it look professional.” Cassandra gave her a shy smile in gratitude for allowing her to retain some privacy.

Sarah started to play with Cassandra's hair, a look of concentration in her eyes, as she contemplated options. “I'd recommend losing quite a bit of length, I'm afraid. If you want to cover up the undercut I'd think a bob is the best we can get away with. Or we could always go for a crop.”

Cassandra wanted to say no, but found her confidence was so low she couldn't protest, merely looking up sadly into Nicole's eyes for guidance. Nicole looked at her sympathetically. I don't think you wanted to go short, did you, honey? I think a bob would look great on you.”

“It would?” was all Cassandra could reply.

Sarah was enthusiastic. “It would work well for you. If you keep it long it's going to show the undercut.” An emotional Cassandra nodded her agreement. She would be bobbed. “Great, you'll see I'm right, I promise. What about the colour? Did you want to stay blonde, or go back to something closer to your natural shade?” Again, Cassandra was floundering and shrugged uncomfortably.

“Red would look really pretty, honey,” Nicole suggested, and Sarah smiled and nodded.

“OK, red,” Cassandra replied diffidently. She would have agreed just as easily if they'd suggested blonde, black or green.

Sarah combed back the longer section from the top and pinned it up on top. “What about the undercut? It looks fairly straggly, but if you're wanting to grow it out I can leave it.”

Nicole spoke before a hesitant Cassandra could reply. “It's best you take it nice and neat. Not clippered though, cut it scissor over comb, but nice and short. I prefer the softness of scissored.” Sarah gave a wry smile, as if Nicole's decision had revealed something about the nature of her relationship with Cassandra.

“And that's OK with you?” Cassandra nodded. She'd dreamed of growing out her undercut but Nicole seemed to know clearly what was best.

Sarah immediately began to cut, running a comb up Cassandra's nape as the scissors rapidly clicked. Fine red hairs began to fall over the cape, gathering over her shoulders. The comb moved steadily upward, then returned to Cassandra's neck to begin another upward journey, each time removing more length, taming the regrowth.

“How short was this undercut?” Sarah asked after a couple of minutes. Cassandra cleared her throat, ashamed to admit the truth.

“It was shaved smooth with a razor,” Nicole informed her. Sarah's vocalisation revealed her surprise. “Yes, she was almost bald. Looked amazing when she braided her hair to show it off.”

“I bet. You're going more respectable for your new job then, Cassandra? What is it you do?”

“I'm a nurse.” She wanted to say more, aware that she'd hardly made any conversation with her stylist, but no words came to her. She'd lost the ability to make small talk in her weeks of depression.

Nicole broke the awkward silence. “Take it even shorter, Sarah. It looks really cute when it's nice and tight. She has lovely soft hair.”

As Sarah worked the scissors over the sides, Cassandra started to see how short Nicole preferred. It was as short as the number two guard on clippers, but had a softer, less mechanical texture. Sarah folded her ear forward and cut a clearly defined arc around her ear, then snipped her sideburn into a little point. She gazed at herself in the mirror, uncomfortable with the boyishness of the cut. Then she glanced at Nicole, who was smiling, entranced. She clearly loved what Sarah was doing, smiling warmly at Cassandra.

As Sarah made the final snips over the sides, she spoke, addressing Nicole now. “What about the nape? She has a nice hairline, so natural works, but I could tidy it up.”

Nicole rubbed at Cassandra's neck. “I like it natural, works with the softness, but maybe shave her neck. I like that clean look.”

Sarah obliged, and Cassandra felt the razor shaving the soft down from her nape. “I bet you've missed being shaved, haven't you, honey?”

It was true, the razor brought back memories. She thought of how she used to sit obediently for Nathalie, having her scalp shaved on the left side, her brows shaved, then shaving her mistress in return. All that had been denied her in the previous months. Nathalie had been supportive of her through her troubles, but as a result their relationship had entered a sort of purgatory. Everything was put on hold, a waiting game to be endured. And even though she'd been living with Nicole, their relationship had remained chaste, partly through Cassandra's anxieties, partly through a sense of loyalty to Nathalie. In truth, she'd been just as cool toward Nathalie and Ilione, her body language showing a lack of receptivity to anything physical.

A mirror was held up By Sarah to allow her to see her nape. The entire back had been scissored to the same length, if length was the right word. Nicole had chosen to have her closely cropped and Cassandra remembered her suggestion earlier in the day to go for a masculine cut. She started to sense that this hadn't been made in jest. She forced a smile and thanked Sarah. It was too short, but Cassandra couldn't fault her stylist's craft.

Now the long hair was freed and wet with a spray. “You've taken the undercut so high that it's pretty much on the limit of what it's possible to cut into a bob. I can't even guarantee it will look right, but only you can decide that.”

Cassandra felt panicky. She'd just about come to terms with the idea of being bobbed, but now she might have to go short! And how short that would be, given the cropping she'd just received. Sarah combed the wet locks down over Cassandra's shoulders, parting her hair down the middle of her head. “Going to cut it just here...” She chopped her hands into the sides at chin level. “At least for starters. If that looks a bit thin we can go shorter. The shorter it is the fuller it will look.” She slid the comb through the left side repeatedly, until she was confident that the hair was sitting right. Now the comb was held steadily and the scissors clicked, the tips snipping just under the tines. Cassandra held her breath as she felt wet strands tumble into her lap. Despite the undercuts and undershaves that had been inflicted on her, she'd always had long hair. Now that was changing. She saw a girl in the mirror who had half a head of long hair and a chin length bob on the other side. Sarah walked around the back of her and soon both sides were chin length. Only the back remained long.

As the last long strands were cut from the back Cassandra suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Nathalie! She hadn't asked her about this cut and was sure she'd be livid. How could she have been so selfish? She'd been neglecting her relationship, and felt sure that Nathalie wouldn't want her any more, especially since Ilione was now sharing her house and her bed. And how could she blame her? She'd been unbearable over the last few months, wallowing in her own misery and living a directionless existence.

Sarah combed through the newly cut bob and trimmed a few errant hairs. “It's so easy to cut when there's a high undercut,” she smiled. “Maybe I should do one for all my clients.”

Nicole seemed unaware of Sarah's comments, her eyes darting between Cassandra's newly cut bob and its reflection in the mirror. “I'm not sure. It looks quite flat and thin.”

“It is still wet though,” Sarah replied, giving some hope to Cassandra that she wouldn't have to endure the loss of more hair. “Let's try drying it and see how it looks then.” She completed her plan, giving shine and smoothness to Cassandra's hair as she blew it dry.

Nicole played with it, pulling a section back behind Cassandra's right ear. “It's not right, the undercut shows too easily. You should go shorter.”

Sarah was more circumspect. “I haven't used any products in it. I could give more volume.”

Nicole seemed determined, however. “That would give more lift but the ends would still look thin. You should definitely go shorter. I'm right, aren't I, Cassie?”

“You mean a crop?” Cassandra's heart was pumping hard, as she started to suspect Nicole had been trying to engineer this from the beginning.

“No, still bobbed, just shorter. About here.” She jabbed her fingers at Cassandra's cheek. “Quite bold, but it would work much better.”

“A fringe too?” Sarah asked. She seemed unsure that Nicole's suggestions were viable.

“No, I like the centre part on her. It looks quite severe, and that suits her.”

“You're OK if we try that then?” Sarah asked Cassandra. She'd felt totally excluded from all discussion and part of her needed this. She just nodded and gave a meek smile. She still feared that the short bob wouldn't satisfy Nicole.

Her hair was wetted again and Sarah combed it through. She slid the comb in and fixed it on Cassandra's cheek, level with the corner of her mouth. “Shorter,” Nicole prompted. “Take it up to nose level.” Sarah looked at her quizzically. “Trust me, and be bold. It will look better like this.”

The comb was taken up another inch and the scissors chopped at Cassandra's blonde hair. The strands falling were nowhere near as long as those which lay in her lap, but still shockingly long now that she had so much less hair to work with. It seemed as if almost half of the length was being snipped away. Sarah worked very meticulously, ensuring that she obtained a perfect line, re-combing, snipping, checking. The lower half of Cassandra's ear was now being revealed. It was a very short bob.

As with the previous cut, Sarah finished cutting the bob across the back of Cassandra's head, but now she'd exposed a lot of cropped nape. Cassandra's head was bowed and she was forced to stare at the tangled nest of blonde hair that had been hacked. She shivered as Sarah's hand dabbed at her nape. The stylist took hold of her head and lifted it, making her regard herself in the mirror. She found it almost painful to see herself, her bob now so short that it seemed almost ridiculous. She glanced at the figure standing behind her shoulder; Nicole looked very pleased.

“See, I told you it would be better. It looks great, doesn't it?”

Sarah seemed to agree. “Yes, it does look good. It really shows her lovely jawline. You need good bone structure to pull off a cut like this.”

Cassandra found herself smiling embarrassedly at the compliments, despite disliking her new cut. Soon she was slathered in dye and positioned under a dryer, just her and Nicole, as Sarah went to attend to other business.

Nicole squeezed her hand. “You just look so miserable all the time, Cassie. You should let yourself have some fun. This case will soon be decided one way or the other and you have a whole life in front of you. Whether or not they say you were right or you were wrong isn't going to make everything different. You have people who love you, and that's what matters.”

“I know. I can be selfish...”

Nicole interrupted her. “No, you turn everything against yourself. If they say you were badly treated you get some settlement and move on with your life. If they find against you, you move on with your life. There might be a bit of money for you but that's not really important. You're not going back to the hospital. Nathalie and I will make sure you can find work, so the money's not important. And I know you aren't out for revenge. So don't let this whole situation ruin your life. It's over now and you have to accept that soon. You've let it take over and it won't be easy to let go, even if they find completely in your favour.”

“I know you're right but telling myself what to do doesn't always work. My emotions have a life of their own.”

“Nathalie's been great with you but I think she's been too supportive. You need a firm hand, don't you?” Cassandra felt her cheeks colour and nodded. “I'm going to be very strict with you when I get you home, and you'll do just as I say, won't you?”

“Yes,” Cassandra whispered. She suddenly became aware of the passions she'd repressed for so long, growing in force inside her. Nicole cupped her hand to her ear as if she hadn't heard. “Yes Miss Nicole,” Cassandra corrected herself.

“All the time you've been a guest in my house you've been trying to pretend you're not interested in me. But I see the way you look at me. You've been in love since the day we made the film together, haven't you?” Cassandra nodded, ashamed of herself for betraying Nathalie. “Say it!” Nicole ordered.

“You're the most beautiful woman I ever knew and I've loved you since I first met you. But I love Nathalie so dearly and I'd never do anything to hurt her.”

Nicole smiled. “So you need to get her permission, is that it?” Cassandra nodded and Nicole immediately started to dial. “Cassie's finally started to feel something again and wants to have sex with me. She wants to know you're OK with it.” She nodded thoughtfully. “OK, but I can see she thinks I'm making this up so could you send her a text to confirm it?”

Moments after Nicole ended the call Cassandra received a text from Nathalie: “Enjoy sex. See you tonight. Love you x.”

Cassandra looked open mouthed at Nicole, astonished by Nathalie's nonchalant acceptance of what she regarded as an infidelity. “She's OK with it, Miss,” she whispered, not sure whether she was asking a question or making a statement.

“Like I said, we're like sisters and we share everything. Cassandra, sweetie, do stop looking so scared. Anyone would think you were scared of me. Or that you didn't like sex. And I know that's not the case.” She moved closer to Cassandra, her eyes glittering with mischief, but before she could act on her impulses Sarah was back.

Once the dye had been rinsed, Cassandra was returned to the chair and saw her new colour for the first time. Sarah had taken the undercut very dark, on Nicole's suggestion, and the longer hair was a pale red, just a couple of shades too dark to be considered strawberry blonde and noticeably paler than Cassandra's natural shade. She liked the colour but still felt a shock at every sight of her reflection due to the severity of the cut.

Sarah styled her bob, curling under the ends and giving lift through the crown. It exaggerated the cut even more, the curl lifting the ends even higher up Cassandra's cheeks and ears, the fullness making it look mushroom like above her shorn nape.

“That looks just beautiful, Sarah,” Nicole gushed. “Very pretty indeed. We can style it with a bit less volume for the interview next week to make it look more business-like but still stylish and sexy.”

A bashful Cassandra thanked Sarah for her transformation and went to pay, but Nicole insisted on taking care of that. As they walked out of the salon Nicole stroked at the cropped hair on the nape. “Couple of inches shorter and you'd have a bowl cut. You'd look quite the little slave then, especially if it was shaved underneath.”

Cassandra moaned with alarm. “Oh, I'd hate it. Please don't do that to me, Nicole.”

“It's Miss Nicole to you. And I know part of you would hate it, and part of you wants it right now, just as you hated me making you get this cut but loving how it makes you feel. Am I right?”

Cassandra nodded shyly. “Yes Miss Nicole.” Nicole put her arm around her and kissed her gently on the lips. An elation spread through Cassandra's body as she felt enormous pride in being seen with such a beautiful woman.

As soon as they arrived home Nicole seductively stripped Cassandra of every garment and made her sit at her dressing table, before a large illuminated mirror. She started to play with Cassandra's new bob, messing it up with increasing roughness, then working in a dollop of thick gel. Cassandra moaned constantly and started to touch her sex for the first time in weeks: her depression had killed her libido and it felt like she was reborn. The rings which Reiko had pierced into her still felt alien as she stroked herself.

Nicole took a comb and smoothed the longer hair straight back over Cassandra's head. All of the dark brown undercut was now exposed and with the top slicked close to her head, there was no femininity at all in the style. Nicole kept combing through the thickly gelled hair, sculpting it into new forms. Finally she settled on a look where the front was lifted into a sleek pompadour, the bob combed into a V at the back, the sides bared, with not a single hair allowed to hang free. “When I was a teenager I used to read trashy pulp books about secret lesbian passions and there were always manly women in those. The idea used to get me so turned on. So turned on, you've really no idea. And today I was so tempted to have Sarah make you look like a little delicate boy with a very severe cut, like something from fifties America. I only restrained myself because I knew how important the meeting next week is. But now, you'll indulge my fantasies, won't you?”

Cassandra nodded. She'd never seen Nicole like this before, so dominant that she seemed a little crazy. But Cassandra found it thrilling. The pent up energy inside her was like a tempest.

“You've neglected those brows, Cassandra,” Nicole continued. She took a pencil and went over the fine hairs which had grown back since Cassandra had moved out of Nathalie's home. Her brows were pale and reddish. Now that they were darkened the full extent of the growth was revealed. Cassandra grimaced at the ugly heavy brows she now wore. They diminished her femininity further. Nicole went to a cupboard and took out a large paper bag. “Get changed into this outfit. Meet me downstairs in thirty minutes.”

Now that she was alone, Cassandra rose to examine herself more closely in the mirror. The sleeked hair looked terrible and she despised her dark brows, but she couldn't stop staring at herself and guiltily rubbed at her sex, which was growing wetter each minute. Finally she moved away from the mirror, curious to see the outfit she would wear to please Nicole.

Inside the bag was a grey woollen suit, clearly a man's suit. A white linen shirt, a blue silk tie, plain black socks and lace up black shoes completed the ensemble. A more thorough examination of the contents was made but there were no undergarments. Cassandra slid into the trousers, and felt the prickly wool irritating her pierced pubis. The sensation wasn't without pleasure. She put on the shirt, her nipples visible though the fine fabric, then tried the jacket. The cut hid her curves, and in the mirror she saw a figure that only a close examination revealed to be female. The shoes were fastened, a little too large for her, then Cassandra attempted to knot the tie. She failed to create anything that looked acceptable and decided she would let Nicole attend to that.

Ten minutes later Cassandra made her way to the lounge to meet her lover. She was surprised to see that Nicole had dressed in a long coat, covering her to mid calf. Only the lower part of her shiny spike-heeled boots was visible. She'd redone her make-up, rather excessively, her eyes dominated by long fluttering false lashes. She came close to Cassandra and tugged the studs free from her earlobes. “These aren't necessary tonight.” Then she brandished a wipe to remove all of the make-up from Cassandra's face, with the exception of her darkened brows. A smile spread over Nicole's face as she looked at what she'd created. “Come on babe, let's go out on the town!” she said in an affectedly coarse accent, making Cassandra carry a heavy bag.

Nicole insisted on visiting a couple of bars in the town, Cassandra having to pay for everything. Now she felt utterly humiliated to be seen, wondering about how others would think of this strange androgynous figure. Eventually Nicole took her to a cheap hotel. Cassandra had to pay with her card, which still bore the name Jennifer. Nicole constantly made crude remarks to scandalise a disapproving desk clerk and even let her see a set of handcuffs which she'd carried in her coat.

Once they were installed in the hotel room Nicole opened the bag and set two cameras on tripods. She then took off her coat to reveal her latex outfit, which consisted of a very short skirt and a corset. Cassandra fell willingly to her knees and kissed at her mistress' tattooed pussy. The humiliations were forgotten and now she was overwhelmed with desire. Every moment was an eternity of bliss as the two women let themselves explore each other's bodies. By the time Nicole turned in the bed to explore Cassandra's pussy, she felt an explosive energy inside. Nicole hooked her long nails into the rings and drew her labia apart forcefully, then her head bobbed as her tongue stabbed at the younger woman. Cassandra wailed with growing intensity, gripping her own shorn scalp as she fought the climax for as long as she could. She begged Nicole to pull harder, the pain helping her to resist giving in to the orgasm, knowing that it was growing to monstrous proportions, knowing that she would be engulfed at any moment by an avalanche of delight.

An hour later, Nicole showered her lover and made her endure having her hair once more sculpted into the hated masculine style. They dressed as Nicole announced that she wanted to show off her lover in the hotel bar, much to Cassandra's chagrin.

As soon as they entered the bar Cassandra saw the unmistakable figures of Nathalie and Ilione. They both laughed in astonishment as they saw an almost unrecognisable Cassandra. “Nicole, what have you done to her? Her hair... I can't believe you let her do this to you, Cassandra.”

Cassandra threw her arms around Nathalie, suddenly beset by a torrent of conflicting emotions. “Please don't be mad at me. It's not as short as it looks. When it's down it's a bob.”

“Not mad at all,” Nathalie said and showed her pleasure with a kiss. “Just so pleased you finally found some pleasure. I almost said let your hair down, but that seems a bit inappropriate.”

Ilione seemed delighted by Cassandra's makeover, and was happily stroking at her nape. “You're such a little cutie. I want to take you to a club where they ask you for ID because you look about twelve and you have get out your passport with a picture of old Jennifer!” Cassandra gave an embarrassed smile.

Nicole seemed eager to justify her actions to Nathalie. “She's right, it does look more feminine, and professional when it's down. I wanted her to have a look that will look right for the big meeting next week.” Nathalie nodded to show she was happy with Nicole. “Once the meeting's done with though I think she should get a really nice boyish cut. The back doesn't look right now, there's too much bulk.”

“Hey, you're frightening the poor girl!” (This was true, Cassandra dreaded letting Nicole decide another haircut for her.) “She's been through a lot lately, let's just take one day at a time.”

“I know, but she likes being frightened.” (This too was true.) “You should have seen how pleased she was with me for giving her a butch look. Actually you can, I got it all on camera.” Cassandra's shame was reaching new extremes on this evening. Some privacy was to be accorded her now at least, as Nathalie insisted that they should return to hers. Cassandra felt like she'd turned a corner, rising out of the morass of misery that had mired her for the previous months.

Her suffering wasn't quite concluded though. She was so anxious on the morning of her meeting that she was close to being sick. She'd spoken to her lawyer, Andrea, the previous night and was told that only she would be present in the meeting to support Cassandra. Her friends would wait for her in a café near the hospital, awaiting the outcome. However, Cassandra had also been warned that there was no guarantee that the meeting would be final. If a suitable agreement couldn't be reached then there would be no choice but to proceed to a tribunal, which could mean months more delays.

Cassandra was horrified as she entered the hospital boardroom to see that her accuser, Diana, was present. Andrea whispered to her: “This is just intimidation. Don't respond to her. Stay calm and listen to what I have to say before you reply to anything.”

A senior manager made the introductions and summarised the case, getting Cassandra (although she would be called Jennifer for the duration of this hearing) to acknowledge that he'd understood her grievances correctly. Diana kept her eyes on Cassandra fixedly and it unsettled her. She just had to ignore her and do as Andrea had suggested. Gwen had not merely provided a detailed statement in support of Cassandra's good conduct and Diana's unprofessionalism, but had also asked other patients to record their views. There was no criticism of Cassandra voiced by any of them, and several had noted Diana's outbursts. In Diana's defence was a statement from an agency nurse who claimed she'd been uncomfortable with Cassandra's conduct around patients. “Do you know this woman?” Andrea whispered. Cassandra shook her head.

“There are lots of agency workers, I can't always remember names.” The lawyer studied the document as a manger read it, then leafed through some papers until she found a print out of a spreadsheet.

“I need to point out a problem with this statement. On the date this nurse alleges misconduct there were no agency nurses employed on the ward. I got a list of all recent hours worked by agency staff in the ward under the freedom of information act. This statement isn't just flawed, it's false and defamatory.” Now it was Diana who couldn't return Cassandra's gaze.

This was the turning point, as Andrea now went through numerous breaches of employment law and NHS policy in the hospital's handling of Cassandra's complaints. The head of the investigating committee looked increasingly furious as he realised the culpability of Diana and her superiors. At length he asked for Diana, Cassandra and their representatives to withdraw while considering options. Cassandra and Andrea hadn't even reached the café where the friends were waiting when Andrea received a call asking them to return to the boardroom.

“The hospital accepts no responsibility for wrongdoing in this case but is prepared to make a payment to Miss Cane in return for which she will agree to cease all actions in regard to her time of employment by this hospital.” An envelope was pushed across the table which Andrea opened. She remained silent for some time.

“Miss Cane is eager to settle this case but you shouldn't mistake that for a lack of resolve. If you continue to underplay the seriousness of her maltreatment then she will take this to a tribunal, and since I'm sure you understand the weakness of your own position you know what the likely outcome is. If you increase the compensation awarded by fifty percent, grant expenses and guarantee that a disciplinary investigation will be launched against the instigator of the bullying, including passing evidence to the Royal College, then I think we have an agreement.” There was an exchange of glances between the committee and Andrea's proposal was accepted.

“Miss Cane, you agree to the terms of this agreement?”

She looked at Andrea for guidance. “Take it,” she mouthed.

It was thirty minutes later before a slightly bemused Cassandra headed out of the room. There'd been a delay while an amended agreement was printed out, studied by Andrea and then signed by both parties. “Did I just win?” she asked. “They didn't exactly sound apologetic.”

“You won. And no they didn't. You settled so they can deny any wrongdoing. Although I think Diana is going to feel the full force of being a scapegoat.”

“So how much did they offer?”

Andrea looked surprised. “Didn't you see?” She paused and whispered into Cassandra's ear.

“Oh!” she squealed. “You're kidding? That's more that I got paid in years!”

“You'd probably have got more at tribunal, and their legal costs would have been enormous. So just enjoy it.”

Cassandra's first action on arriving at the café was to order a bottle of champagne.

The following weekend Cassandra lay on a lawn with Nathalie sipping a glass of wine and admiring the view. The four friends had gone to a country cottage for the weekend, Cassandra's treat for the support they'd given to her.

“I've got more money than I've ever had, Nathalie. I don't have to work for... well a couple of years. I can take some time and decide what I want to do. I'm not even sure I want to be a nurse any more. Besides, word will probably get round and I'd have trouble finding a job.”

“Well since we're on the subject of jobs... I've heard from an old friend who's invested in a clinic. Very well appointed, very exclusive. It caters to an extremely specialist clientèle. My friend is well connected though and invited me to invest too. If I did you'd be part of my investment.”

Cassandra looked at her blankly. “You're being very mysterious. 'Specialist clientèle?'”

“The clinic does cosmetic work for... fetishistic reasons. If I was to invest it would mean you taking up a nursing position there. But there are unusual terms of employment. It would mean a limited form of slavery.”

Cassandra looked astonished. “And this exclusive clinic, is it far away?”

“You could say that. It's on an island in the Indian Ocean.”

“This sounds crazy. Would you be living there with me?” Nathalie shook her head.

“You'd work there for five months a year, one three month term and the second for two months. I would visit during both. I should warn you that you'd be subject to more stringent control than you've experienced.”

“Nathalie, I love you. I don't want to be away from you ever again. We're free now to live together at last and you're talking about sending me half way around the world.”

“You're right, my love. We'll never mention it again.”

The sun was almost directly overhead and Cassandra could see no place around the harbour where she could find shade. She adjusted her hat and rummaged through her bag for her sunblock, then applied another layer. She was sure she'd made the biggest mistake of her life in coming here. She looked at her watch again, wondering if she'd made some error with time zones. She should have been met almost an hour previously.

She had few distractions to make her wait seem more bearable and she found her mind wandering through the events that had brought her here. Nathalie had planted the seed and despite every effort to forget it the idea kept growing, gnawing at her imagination until she had to find out more. Within days she'd met a doctor for an interview and was surprised that it was more stringent than any other interview she'd experienced. She'd had to sit an exam which posed difficult clinical questions, mostly about theatre nursing, which she was a little rusty on. The doctor told her she'd only just managed a pass grade.

Even more demanding in its own way was the horribly graphic questioning she then had to endure about her sexuality and her kinks. She felt humiliated and slightly disgusted by some of the questions. There seemed no boundaries to what she might have to experience should she take the job. But hours later she felt elated as she was told she'd been accepted.

She had only a few days to say her farewells. She knew that she'd be unable to see her friends for ten weeks, although she would have regular access to web chats. Then she had a series of flights to end up here, on a tiny island in the Indian Ocean where she seemed to have been abandoned. She'd seen the island from the air on the approach and could see nothing which seemed likely to be the clinic. Her assumption was that she'd been told to proceed to the harbour to take a boat to another island. The weather could hardly be a reason for the delay: the water surface in the harbour was barely disturbed by any movement in the air.

She heard the rattle of an old diesel engine and saw a rusted van approaching, which she estimated was at least forty years old. It paused fifty yards from her, at the other side of an open area of worn concrete. “Cassandra?” a woman called from the passenger side door.

“Yes!” she called eagerly and started to approach.

“Passport?” the woman asked coldly. She held it out and the woman took it more roughly than was necessary. She stared at the picture, scanned the information. “It's brand new. Didn't you have a passport?”

“I changed my name. Just a week ago, so I had to change it. Cassandra isn't my birth name. My mistress wanted it.”

The woman stared at her through mirrored sunglasses, then turned to the driver, passing her the passport to scrutinise. The van started forward, causing Cassandra to panic and start to move after it. “Get in the back,” the woman ordered wearily.

Cassandra did as she was told, opening the door with some difficulty. The interior was in darkness and she climbed in without being able to see anything. She gasped as both her arms were seized and she was pulled to the floor. As the van moved away a cloth was tied around her eyes and her clothing was removed. A woman's voice hissed at her to cooperate if she wanted to avoid being hurt.

A compliant Cassandra poked out her tongue as instructed. The bar in her tongue was quickly removed and she felt another object being inserted. She was immediately aware of its great weight and when she tried to withdraw her tongue realised that the new jewellery was hugely oversized. She had to open her jaws wide to accommodate the new object, a glass bead over an inch in diameter, the post attached on the underside fixed in her tongue now, with a large metal bead screwed to the bottom to ensure it was fast. It served as a very effective gag.

The blindfold was removed but Cassandra saw only the inside of a latex hood which was then drawn over her head. It had no eye holes and her vision was once again occluded. A zip was closed at the back and the rubber tightened about her face. She was made to kneel then bend forward. She groaned with fear and humiliation as she felt her buttocks being forcefully drawn apart and lubricant applied to her anus. A finger was eased inside her to relax the muscles of the sphincter, then an object of greater girth was eased inside. Cassandra groaned and started to cry as her anus quivered and cramped. “No tears!” a firm voice barked at her. “You have a long journey and you'll be hooded. I don't want any breathing problems.” Cassandra nodded and focussed on her breathing to restore calm.

If she thought her indignities had ceased she was mistaken; she felt her piercings being pulled to open her labia and a cold tube pressed at her. It entered her and she ground her teeth as she realised she was being catheterised. The tube felt gritty as it passed through the narrow duct, burning and stinging. Her eyes filled with tears despite her best efforts to manage her emotions.

Cassandra was now dressed in tight latex. It felt heavy and constricting, and the close fit may have been reassuring if it wasn't for the fact that she was already terribly warm. Soon it seemed her entire body was covered with rubber with the exception of her genitals, her nose and mouth. Now a corset was added and cinched tight around her waist, then a rubber collar was bound on her neck, sealing the hood in place. Cassandra felt unbearably hot and could feel sweat beginning to accumulate beneath the latex.

The van had stopped moving some minutes previously and Cassandra was now dragged out. The air was cooler and from the reverberation of the sounds she heard she could tell she was inside a fairly large space, one of the small warehouses she'd seen around the harbour perhaps. She was pushed into a chair and told to remain motionless. Her arms and legs were contained in hollow semi-cylindrical guides. A second hood was now fitted, but this one didn't fit close to her face. The hissing she heard as she breathed indicated that she was now breathing through a long tube, and the odour left her in no doubt that it was rubber. It took a few seconds for Cassandra to realise that the loud banging was a lid being nailed to a box which contained her. She nervously lifted a hand, moved a foot to test whether she was restrained. Her movements weren't constricted, nor was she reprimanded. As she tried to lean forward she discovered that her collar had been chained to the chair. It was too much to expect that she'd be allowed complete freedom.

She could still hear sounds outside her box, machinery being moved, electric motors, hushed voices. There was a loud rap on the box. “Cassandra, make sure your arms and legs are in the guides now. The restraints are about to activate.” She pulled her arms and legs tight into the tubes, although they'd already been in place, since the guides provided the only comfortable position for her limbs. There was a loud hissing which seemed to emanate from all around her and Cassandra felt pressure against her as a series of rubber bladders inflated, expanding until they filled all of the free space in the box. The entire surface of Cassandra's body was subject to a firm pressure from the tightly inflated balloons. There was a faint click as headphones in the hood became live. “Cassandra, can you press the button in the recess under your left hand?”

She sought it with her fingers and pressed as requested. “Good. This is a precaution to ensure you don't become hypoxic and lose consciousness. You'll receive a small shock at two minute intervals. This will repeat if you don't press the button. It's sufficiently unpleasant that you will press the button. If it continues to shock you we'll know something's gone wrong and we'll make sure you're recovered. Your journey will begin now.”

With that Cassandra felt the box tip back and start to trundle forward. The unexpected motion made her feel giddy. She imagined the box was being moved with a trolley and could feel every bump as she moved across an uneven surface. There were calls in a language she didn't recognise, then the box moved more violently as it was forced over a step. When the crate was finally righted and the trolley removed Cassandra became aware that she could perceive a gentle swaying. She was on water.

As she awaited the departure of the boat, Cassandra gasped as the plug administered a painful shock. It felt like something sharp had penetrated deep into her flesh and she desperately felt for the button, fearful that a second shock would be administered. “Oh, good, that works then,” a mocking voice shouted from outside.

Cassandra's perceptions of where the box had been taken were largely correct, but there was one error. The box started to vibrate and a rapid acceleration occurred, leaving Cassandra in no doubt that she was on a sea plane. A slightly nervous flier, this journey filled her with terror. The plane lurched unsteadily and a severe vibration frequently beset the box. The engine sounded dangerously unreliable too, the rattling suddenly becoming subdued on more than one occasion. Cassandra's imagination conjured dark scenarios, where the plane crashed but she survived due to the protection afforded by the padded box, only to slowly drown as the fuselage sank under the waves. The regular painful shocks added another awful dimension to her suffering.

The stress increased as Cassandra felt the plane swoop downward. There seemed to be sudden corrections of course, leaving her questioning the competence of the pilot. There was a huge release of tension as the plane slowed and Cassandra realised that she was once more on water, but by now she had a tremendous headache and a strong feeling of nausea.

Nor was she to be swiftly released from her bondage. The plane seemed to taxi for so long that Cassandra started to believe that they'd had to land short of the destination and were now stranded in the open ocean. Finally she felt the crate tipping and she was moved onto Terra firma.

The crate was transported over rough ground, then the movement became smooth. Surely she was inside the clinic now? She started as the balloons rapidly began their simultaneous deflation. Some movement was restored, although Cassandra felt sore and weak as she extended her arms.

The lid of the box was torn open and Cassandra was aided to stand. Her legs were trembling so much that without support on each side she felt certain she would have fallen. She felt helpless as she slumped into a soft padded chair and felt the hood being unzipped and peeled from her head. She was in a brightly lit room and squinted as her eyes tried to accommodate the level of illumination.

“Welcome to the clinic, nurse Cassandra. I'm Doctor Paola, and I'll be supervising you during your introductory period.” Cassandra looked nervously at the woman. She was well spoken, with a faint trace of a European accent. She was olive skinned with thick dark hair which gleamed under the lights. She was very beautiful but there was a coldness to her expression which unsettled Cassandra.

“Your status is that of a slave, but don't think think that means you merely have to follow orders. This is a working clinic and you'll be expected to work to the highest standards, clinically and in client care. Our clients are very wealthy and used to high standards. Any lapses will be punished.

“As a slave nurse you will be expected to attend to the needs of your superiors in the ways they request. I can punish you in any way I see fit, although any more permanent modifications do need the agreement of your owner. Nathalie has supplied me with details of effective punishments.”

Doctor Paola had removed Cassandra's opera gloves during the discussion and had fitted a cuff to measure Cassandra's blood pressure. She noted the reading and looked satisfied. “Your first modification will be to have the mark of the clinic tattooed on your right wrist. All slave status workers receive that.” She pressed a button on the desk phone and a young woman entered. Within minutes she had started to tattoo a two inch roundel on the inside of Cassandra's forearm. She was too exhausted to resist, but winced as the needle burrowed through her skin.

Paola looked amused. “Nathalie did mention that you had a low pain threshold. That's unfortunate, given the nature of your current employment. This little tattoo is really quite insignificant compared to some of the treats we have planned.” Underneath the tattoo, which had now been coloured red and green, the number 126 was neatly graven into Cassandra's skin. “This is your number, and some may prefer to refer to you as 126 or nurse 126 rather than your name.” Cassandra looked sadly at the tattoo, horrified that it would remain with her for the rest of her existence.

“Now that you've been tattooed I hope you're starting to adjust to your new status. However, I think we need to take more action.” The doctor now placed a latex cape over Cassandra, zipping it at the back so that it fitted tightly around her neck. The tattooist assisted as the edges of the cape were pushed into a channel that ran around the edge of the chair. As Doctor Paola manipulated the controls on a console this channel narrowed, forming a tight seal. The air was then sucked out from under the latex which pulled tightly over Cassandra's body. She gave a cry of distress as once more she was completely immobilised.

The doctor now played with Cassandra's hair, which was flattened and dishevelled as a result of the hood. “I'm told haircutting gets you very excited. That's why I'm going to give you an appropriate new look to suit your status.” She held a set of clippers before Cassandra's face, making the young woman beg for mercy. The huge bead which remained attached to her tongue rendered speech impossible. “You're gibbering most unattractively. If you want a more manageable piercing in your tongue for your chat with your mistress tonight then you should remain quiet.”

The clippers were turned on and a helpless Cassandra felt the blades press to her forehead. Doctor Paola held them still for a moment, until her patience ended. She drove them straight back over the middle of Cassandra's head, letting pale red hair fall free over the tightly stretched film of rubber which provided such a firm restraint. “Get her a mirror,” she ordered her assistant.

As more hair was sheared from the top of Cassandra's head she was made to watch, the mirror now held close to her face. Paola was stripping the hair as fast as she could, the blades making rapid swoops from front to back. She laughed as the last of the longer hair fell free. “Your undercut is your long hair now, 126. Except it looks like you have male pattern baldness. Do you want me to tidy up your head?” A tearful Cassandra nodded, trying to accept her fate.

The clippers zizzed up the back of her head now, shaving the short hair that Sarah had cut so carefully just a few weeks earlier. As the last of the cropped hair was buzzed away, Paola asked the assistant to lather Cassandra's scalp. “You're going to wear a hood and some hair will be allowed to grow back. If you're seen without a hood, your head will be shaved again.” As the soap was brushed onto Cassandra's head, Paola took a pair of tweezers. “There's some more hair to be removed now, but this will be plucked and won't grow back so quickly.” She tugged some hairs free from Cassandra's eyebrow, then set to the task of removing every vestige of hair with gusto. Cassandra was simultaneously subject to a razor scraping over her scalp as any trace of stubble was eliminated by the doctor's assistant.

Not content with destroying Cassandra's brows, Paola now began plucking at her eyelashes. It was less painful than she'd imagined, but the sensation nevertheless appalled her. When the mirror was once more held before her face she began to sob. Her face was reddened by mild sunburn from her wait at the harbour, and the contrast with the paleness of her scalp seemed absurd. Her beauty had been taken from her ruthlessly and she believed fully that Paola had reduced her to a slave.

“Tongue!” the doctor ordered brusquely. Cassandra tried to obey but found that she was unable to get the massive piece of glass past her teeth. Her tongue was almost paralysed by the immobility which had been forced on it. Paola groaned impatiently and went to obtain a tray of tools. Cassandra had to endure her mouth being ratcheted open by a set of jaw spreaders hooked over her teeth, then felt her tongue gripped with forceps and guided out. It took only moments for a more modestly proportioned barbell to replace the large bead. Cassandra moved her tongue to try to acclimate herself to this new freedom.

“Thank you, Doctor Paola,” she slurred. The suction on the cape was stopped and a moment later the seal around the edge clicked open. Cassandra was ordered to stand as the cape was removed. The assistant now humiliated Cassandra further by removing the catheter and butt plug.

“You looked quite pretty in those pictures Nathalie sent but I hated that bob on you. Mind you, you don't look good bald either. I suppose you'll just have to get used to being plain.” Cassandra's self confidence drained even further. “I can see you're dying to feel it, so do it.” She did as instructed, nervously feeling her scalp.

“You'll find a tablet in your room. There are some PDFs of research on it. You need to study those papers tonight, and you'll sit a test on them in the morning. Then you have an appointment with the dentist in the morning and surgery in the afternoon. You'll have an hour tonight to chat to your mistress via your tablet as well. I'm sure you're tired after your journey so don't stay up too late.”

Paola left immediately and it was her assistant who took Cassandra to her room. She advised Cassandra to look at a document on her tablet which laid out a lot of the rules of the clinic.

As soon as she was left alone, Cassandra removed her corset and fell to the bed, exhausted and overcome with sadness. She rubbed her bald head and moaned. She could see herself in a mirror on the wall opposite and found herself staring at her new image, despite the discomfort it caused her. She cursed herself for allowing herself to be brought here.

After eating the salad she found in her small refrigerator Cassandra felt slightly more energetic and picked up the tablet for the first time. She skimmed through the rules for the clinic but couldn't take much in, then winced as she saw the papers she had to study. They were quite detailed and covered areas she knew nothing about. There was no way she could ignore them and hope to get through the test.

Now Cassandra found a chat program installed on her tablet and saw that there was only one contact: Nathalie. She eagerly tried to connect and saw that Nathalie appeared to be online. She typed a greeting and immediately got a response. Then an invitation to open web cams appeared. As soon as she agreed she saw Nathalie on the screen.

“Oh Nathalie, look what they did to me! As soon as I got here I was tattooed and shaved. She held up her wrist to show the tattoo, which still had a layer of cling film taped over it. Ilione moved into view as she tried to get a look at the new Cassandra.

“Wow, Cassie, you look so bald. They turned you into a hairless slave.”

“Don't joke, I am. I have loads to study, but apparently I'm due to have dental work and surgery tomorrow. I'm so scared. The Doctor who's in charge is horrible. She just seems to want to scare me and be mean.”

Ilione was eager to find out more. “Are they going to keep you bald all the time? Has she mentioned permanent hairlessness?”

Cassandra started to cry. “Please Nathalie, don't let them do that to me. They're going to operate on me tomorrow and I've no idea what that mad doctor has planned. Nathalie, it was a mistake coming here. I need to come home. Will you tell them? Please don't make me stay.”

The screen blacked out and Cassandra cursed the poor connection. A minute later the door opened and she saw Paola enter her room.

“Didn't you read the guide? All your communications are monitored. And it's very clear: you're not allowed to request an early end to your service here, except on medical grounds. Your communication privileges are rescinded for a week and in addition you'll receive a punishment.” She went to Cassandra's wardrobe and look out a latex hood with an open face. “What did I say would happen if you were seen without this?”

“My head would be shaved again, Doctor. I'm sorry, I didn't think I needed to wear it in my room.”

Paola laughed. “You don't. But I'll be hanging onto it for a few days. Growing out your hair will have to be postponed until I can see you're less hostile to me. 'Mad' and 'horrible', isn't that how you described me?” It wasn't just sunburn that made Cassandra's cheeks glow. “Are you trying to make me your enemy? I'm not that, but I could become it.

“You didn't read your guide, did you? Knowledge is power. When you're advised to do something here, heed the advice. You're not leaving here for three months and I'll enjoy your stay equally whether you're obedient or unruly. The punishments can be so entertaining, for me anyway. I think you'll learn that you don't have the constitution for insubordination. Now get on with your studies or you'll fail your test in the morning.”

Cassandra was left alone and tried to concentrate on reading the set texts. A combination of fear, indignation and tiredness sapped her concentration and within an hour she decided to abandon the effort. She set her alarm for early the following day, hoping that her ability to retain information would have returned.

Her hairlessness had one benefit: her morning routine was much more efficient. Showering and drying took minutes and despite the desire to return to bed and get a few more hours sleep, Cassandra determined to read the research papers. She scribbled some notes as she tried to memorise the more complex concepts. She nibbled a cereal bar and sipped some coffee as she read.

Her studies were disturbed as a chime sounded on her tablet. She saw a message instructing her to proceed to the college in thirty minutes and to dress immediately. There were instructions on what she should wear. Cassandra felt ill-prepared, and knew that she hadn't fully grasped the information she was supposed to learn. She tried to continue reading as she dressed, but the tight black latex outfit was troublesome to don and took all of her concentration. She didn't dare arrive late on her first morning.

She looked at herself in the mirror, bald, collared, corseted. The sleeve of her top contained a clear patch which allowed her new tattoo to be seen. She looked like a slave, there was no doubt. She read through her notes one more time, muttering some of the key facts to herself. She checked the route to the college on her tablet and left her room.

She arrived at the college with seconds to spare. Her tall heels made her walk more slowly than she'd anticipated and she she'd taken a wrong turn in the featureless white corridors. She was greeted by another doctor, who identified herself as Rhiannon. She was dressed far more conservatively than Cassandra had expected any of the staff would be, a simple, well-cut trouser suit. Her hair was cropped very short, quite a masculine style, dyed carrot red. She looked to be in her fifties but had a certain attractiveness to Cassandra.

She seemed to lack any empathy or humour as she studied Cassandra and turned her arm to check the tattoo. “Your dress is in error, 126. Identify your failings and explain.”

“I'm not wearing my hood, Doctor Rhiannon. It was confiscated by Doctor Paola as a punishment.”

The older woman stared at her. “For..?”

“Insubordination, Doctor.” There was a long silence and Rhiannon seemed to expect more. “I called her mad and horrible. And I asked my mistress to end my placement here,” Cassandra added, deeply ashamed.

“Well, well. And you'd only just arrived. Since you're improperly dressed the pass mark for the exam just went up. Go to the desk and start the test. You have an hour and the clock is already running.”

Cassandra eased herself into the chair, trying to find a comfortable position, which her corset made challenging. She read quickly through the questions and started writing.

“And stop!” Rhiannon took the paper from the desk and immediately started to read it. After reading a couple of paragraphs she looked up at Cassandra with some interest, then continued reading. She used a red pencil to make annotations as she went along. “Eighty-three percent. The elevated pass mark was seventy. This was your only major error,” (she indicated a paragraph which she'd corrected) “but I can see you're a bright girl. Keep applying yourself and you'll learn a lot here. Don't deceive yourself that academic prowess is enough. The life of a slave nurse here is very challenging and you have to learn when to be tough and when to acquiesce. I've read all about the trouble you caused in your last job. I hope you don't bring similar troubles here.”

Cassandra felt like she'd been physically assaulted. Just as she started to warm to Rhiannon she'd said something which Cassandra found so unjust and hurtful that she could hardly contain her wish to protest. Rhiannon was sensitive to the change in her mood. “You wanted to say something?”

“With respect, doctor, I didn't cause trouble. I was treated unfairly by a colleague and I was helped to settle the situation. The changes in my appearance that my mistress chose for me were what triggered the bullying and I honestly don't know what I could have done differently.”

“I don't like complaining. I won't tolerate it. As soon as you got here you complained to your mistress. You need to improve your attitude immediately.”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, Doctor Rhiannon.”

“Now you need to go to the dentist, don't you?” As she led Cassandra to the door she gave her directions. “Smile and let me see your teeth. Oh, what a pretty smile! Be sure to come back later, I want to see how you look by then.”

Cassandra was aghast at the look that Rhiannon gave her. Her hand was shaking as she opened the door to the dentist's room. Inside she saw three women, all covered head to toe in white latex. Only their eyes were visible, surgical masks covering their mouths and noses.

The dentist approached. “And you are..?”

“Nurse Cassandra, 126. I was told to come here.”

The dentist looked at a clipboard. “Yes, that's right. Take a seat and the nurses will fit your restraints.”

Cassandra made her way to the adapted chair and climbed up. She was instructed to grip the handles at the sides of chair and as she did covers were placed around her fists which prevented her from opening her grip. Long pads were now attached along the sides of the chair, L-shaped in section. These were adjusted so that they pressed firmly against her arms, pushing them tightly against her body and preventing any movement of her torso. The straps which were closed across her chest seemed merely cosmetic. Another belt was tightened around her ankles.

The dentist looked pleased at Cassandra's immobility. “Your mistress informed us that you like to be restrained with pressure pads. I hope it will make your treatment more exciting. Now we should have a strap around your hood but you seem to be missing it.”

“It was confiscated as a punishment,” Cassandra said, trying to sound penitent.

“Ah, yes, I see. You know that you have some visible stubble? And that's not acceptable. Ask the nurses to remedy your error.”

Cassandra looked up at the nearer nurse. “Please nurse, would you shave me?” she asked, feeling her humiliation increase.

The nurse mixed up a cup of shaving foam and used a traditional brush to lather Cassandra's cranium. “Open your mouth,” she said as the last lather was applied. Cassandra did as instructed and was rewarded by the brush being thrust into her mouth, laden with a dollop of bitter soap. “That's for speaking disrespectfully about a doctor. You can hold it there until you're bald. It might make you think before you disgrace yourself next time.”

Her colleague wielded a safety razor, pressing it firmly to Cassandra's scalp. There was barely any resistance from the short stubble, mere hours of regrowth from the close shave the previous night. Cassandra sputtered as she tried to breathe, the soap choking as it dribbled over her tongue. “There we are, nice and bald again.” The nurses giggled and stroked her head. “You can keep coming here so we can shave you every day.”

“Ladies...” the dentist interrupted. “We do have work here.” The nurses apologised, and cleaned up the mess that the shaving brush had made. Cassandra's freshly shaved head was pushed back into a soft horseshoe shaped pad and a leather strap fixed across her forehead.

“Please, don't do anything to my teeth,” Cassandra begged. “Please doctor, my mistress wouldn't like it and I was told all permanent work has to be agreed by her.”

“I'm not a doctor, I'm Miss Erin. We use British conventions here. Anyway, do you think I'd be doing this if I hadn't receive Nathalie's permission? It was her idea to do this work. Now open up.”

Cassandra had little choice but to comply as the nurses poked and tugged at her mouth and inserted a lip retractor. “Oh yes, she does have crooked teeth,” one of them said, cruelly. There was a slight unevenness to Cassandra's lower teeth, but very minor. It was something about which she was sensitive, however. “No wonder her mistress wanted her sent here. Miss Erin, should we use jaw spreaders?” The dentist agreed and Cassandra found her jaws wedged open to their full extent.

Miss Erin calmly inspected Cassandra's teeth. “All nice. You look after your teeth. But now I'm going to start your work. I do love undertaking major work on little subs who have no idea what's going to happen to them.”

Cassandra was beside herself with fear. The words “major work” had particularly filled her with terror, and her eyes widened. She tried to beg her dentist to stop, to spare her this, but her jaws were jacked wide apart and she was unable to make herself understood. In her heart she knew that the eloquence of Orpheus would not dissuade Miss Erin from the course of action she'd decided on.

“126, this noise isn't attractive. You can do nothing now to stop this happening. Just accept that and you may find some peace.” She lifted a syringe into Cassandra's view, deliberately letting her see the long needle which would soon penetrate her flesh. “You're not frightened of injections, are you? If so I could proceed without anaesthetic.”

Awful as the sight of the needle was, the alternative was far worse, Cassandra was sure. She tried to convince Miss Erin that she was prepared for an injection, but could only gurgle. Even a nod of the head was denied her. Nevertheless, Erin seemed to have determined that an anaesthetic would be administered. She moved the syringe into Cassandra's mouth and pressed the tip into the soft flesh where her jaws hinged together.

Despite her experience as a nurse, Cassandra had never managed to completely conquer her squeamishness of receiving injections. In addition, she'd had a phobia of dentists as a child and even as an adult disliked her visits intensely. The old phobia came back to her now with renewed force. She felt a pressure which became an ache as Erin manipulated the needle down into the joint, seeking out the nerve supply to her face. Her mouth filled with a bitterness as the syringe plunger was depressed. Cassandra knew that this injection would numb the entire left half of her face, and within moments could feel a tingling starting to manifest. Erin slid out the needle, only to move it to the other side of her jaw to administer a second injection.

Cassandra felt her tongue lose sensation: it seemed to swell and fill her mouth. She was salivating but struggled to swallow and was glad when a nurse used a tube to suction the excess liquid from her mouth.

Cassandra wanted to escape now as she saw a drill being moved toward her mouth. Erin was deliberately putting every tool in her sight-line to increase the dread she was experiencing. As Cassandra pushed at the pads trapping her arms they seemed to press even more firmly against her. The nurses had immobilised her very effectively and the blinking of her denuded eyelids as her tears started to flow was the only movement she could control. She felt an outrage as the drill emitted a high pitched whine, then pressed to an upper central incisor. Her teeth were being destroyed! How could this be happening? How could Nathalie have permitted this?

She could feel fragments of tooth flying into her mouth, covering her tongue and was grateful for the suction as they were vacuumed away by the nurse. She didn't dare swallow, afraid that some piece of enamel would catch in her throat. She felt saliva collecting and felt like she was choking, looking up at the nurse in the hope that she would understand her discomfort and drain the liquid.

Erin seemed to make the torture last for hours. All of her central teeth were drilled, slowly, painstakingly, six upper, six lower. Cassandra cried until her sinuses ached. She wondered what was being done to her smile, what would happen once her teeth had been drilled and shaped to fit Erin's desire. At last the drill became silent, and only now did Cassandra realise that her head was aching intensely, exacerbated by the prolonged shriek of the drill. The nurse made a more thorough inspection of her mouth with the suction tube, clearing away the detritus which had once been Cassandra's treasured teeth. She nervously moved her tongue and felt an unfamiliar shape to her teeth, finer edges, gaps palpable between some. She looked expectantly at Erin, awaiting the next procedure, but saw that she seemed to be finished. She'd even removed her gloves, allowing the first glimpse of flesh that Cassandra had seen in this surgery.

The nurses started to tidy up, then one came to release Cassandra's restraints. The jaw spreaders were loosened and eased from her jaws, along with the lip retractors. “Thank you, nurse,” Cassandra slurred, her tongue still heavy and swollen from the anaesthetic. The nurse curtly told her to get up.

She was unsteady as she lifted herself from the chair, and had to rest a hand on the headrest, sure that she would topple from her heels if she didn't stabilise herself. “Smile!” Erin ordered. As she complied Cassandra heard cruel laughter from all those present. “Oh, you do look a fright,” Erin said, not without sympathy. “No hair and those teeth. Here, take a look.” She held up a mirror to let Cassandra see that her teeth had been shaved away at the front, making them look thin and peg-like. The removal of the enamel had darkened them and the reflection horrified Cassandra. She started to cry uncontrollably. She looked hideous.

A firm crack of a crop across her buttocks shocked Cassandra into silence. “Control yourself, 126!” the nurse cried. “Thank Miss Erin!”

Cassandra complied with the order automatically and sniffed as she tried to get her emotions under control. “Your teeth will be very sensitive and eating may be difficult. To allow you to get sufficient nutrition I'm going to fit you with a nasogastric tube.”

Cassandra looked at her like she was insane. A tube would be inserted into her nostril, reaching into her stomach via her oesophagus. She'd inserted these but usually only where swallowing was compromised. She knew that wasn't necessary for her, knew that it was another degradation. She sat passively as a nurse inserted a spray into her nostril and allowed her the privilege of some anaesthetic to make the intubation less painful. She saw the long tube, horrified that so much tubing would be passed into her nose. Erin merely supervised as the nurses carried out the procedure.

The tip of the tube was fed into her nostril and she felt herself baulking as she felt it push inside the fine opening. The anaesthetic hadn't removed all sensation by any means and there was some pain as it slid home. The tube wormed its way inside her, inch by inch, steadily fed in by the nurse, who was clearly expert. “Swallow,” she instructed. “ Take it into your oesophagus, 126.”

Cassandra did as she was told and felt the tube in her throat. The nurse nodded, satisfied that the tube was entering correctly. As more tubing passed through her nostril Cassandra felt the stinging pain grow until her eyes were streaming. She felt the valve at the end of the tube being taped onto her left cheek. She could feel the presence of the tube, like some food had caught in her throat. Erin inspected her and congratulated the nurse on her efficiency. She addressed Cassandra: “You have another procedure today, so no lunch. Now you should go to Doctor Paola for instruction. She'll be in room F03.”

The room was only a short distance away. Cassandra knocked and was told to enter. She bowed to acknowledge her mentor. “Ah, you're here at last. What took so long?”

“Miss Erin was fixing my teeth, Doctor Paola.” Cassandra blushed with shame as she realised she'd drooled as she spoke. Her lips were still functioning poorly due to the lack of sensation.

“Oh, that's disgusting!” Paola groaned. “And so are your teeth. I think any beauty you had is gone now. You're just a slave, aren't you?”

Cassandra was devastated to hear Paola's cruel remarks. They hit her harder because she knew there was truth in the statement. She nodded: “Yes Doctor.”

Paola smiled and nonchalantly played with her own beautiful hair. “Your scalp looks very hairless. Did you have another shave? You'll be shaved again before the day is over. Shaved twice each day for as long as you fail to comply with the dress code. Maybe if you're still bald at the end of your induction I'll keep you bald whenever you're at the clinic. Every time you come back to work here I'll snip off whatever hair you've managed to grow and have you shaved. Of course, if Nathalie agrees we could just do a permanent hair removal. Scalp, brows, lashes, pubic hair, everything. I would enjoy that. Why are you looking like that?”

Cassandra wanted to cry but her tears seemed to have been exhausted. “Please, doctor, I loved my hair. I'd hate to be hairless forever.”

“That's just your vanity. You'll lose that. You've been assessed correctly as being very submissive. Don't fight against what's being done to you, it will just make you unhappy. Accept it. Welcome it. Cherish it. If you refuse to bend you'll be broken.”

Cassandra was moved to face a mirror. She looked at the pale, sickly, hairless girl with ruined teeth. She felt an awful despair. She didn't want to exist looking like this. Would she ever accept this was who she was?

Paola stroked her head. “You exist to serve and that will be your pleasure. There's a sadistic component in your personality too, and you'll be allowed to express this once you start nursing. If you prove yourself a good nurse slave you'll start work soon on a new client. Her mistress has very inventive ideas for her transformation and you'll play a very active role in making these dreams become a reality. You want to do this work, don't you?” Paola continued to caress her bare scalp, her voice soft and reassuring. Cassandra, deprived of any positive attention in many days felt a strong desire for the doctor. Her beauty and self-confidence seemed irresistible.

“Yes, doctor,” she mumbled. “I want to prove to you that I'm a good nurse.”

“I'm sure you won't let me down.” She had now begun to work at the fastenings on Cassandra's outfit and the nurse realised that she was being undressed. Was she being seduced by Paola? She felt an anticipation arising inside. She was compliant as the latex was peeled from her body, smiling shyly at the doctor. Soon she was dressed only in a collar and heels. A frisson made her shiver as the doctor inspected her tattoos, staring at them for some time, tracing the lines with her fingertip. “Sit in the wheelchair, 126,” she said, a sudden coolness in her manner. Cassandra unfolded the chair and lowered herself into it.

The doctor now scrubbed her hands and Cassandra's elation turned to despair as she realised that her nakedness was not part of a game of seduction but a prelude to another surgical procedure. She found that she was unable to swallow, so great was her anxiety. She was about to undergo some form of surgery, to experience some transformation but had no idea what would be done to her. Her thoughts began dwell on negatives: were the surgeons really qualified, would they do more horrible things to make her ugly? She extended a hand upon a request from the doctor and a cannula was inserted into a vein and fixed in place.

Paola filled a syringe now. “A nice pre-op. It will take away all those worries. When you wake everything will be done.” She fitted the syringe into the cannula and injected the liquid. It took only seconds for Cassandra to feel the effects. A benzodiazepine, she was sure. She felt sleepy, a growing confusion. She knew her memory would be impaired and it was unlikely that she would remember any of this later.

Paola placed a belt around Cassandra's waist, removed her shoes and her collar. Then she wheeled her through the corridors of the building. Cassandra saw people staring at her, strange people, some dressed in clothes that were unremarkable, but most wearing latex, leather, vinyl, or in states of more or less undress. All seemed to stare at her as she passed, some with some sympathy, others with overt amusement. Perhaps they all knew what was to be done to her. She was the only one who was ignorant. Her body was no longer her own.

Paola took her into an anteroom where some nursing staff were waiting for her. They had her stand, although they had to support her arms as the injection had made her so weak that her legs could barely support her weight. She was escorted into the theatre, helped onto a table. She tried to look around at the equipment, eager for clues as to what would happen, but she felt hands gripping her head, making her look straight up at the array of lights. Her curiosity began to wane as the drug reached its full potency. She saw a hooded figure standing over her, dressed in red. The deference shown by the other staff showed her that this was a leader. She looked into her eyes and was sure it was Paola, and smiled at her. “Hello, Doctor Paola. Are you operating on me?” She felt giggly and elated.

“I am,” Paola replied. Cassandra could see her eyes were smiling. “The midazolam helps, doesn't it? You're not afraid any more, are you?”

“I feel fine, doctor,” Cassandra murmured. Further conversation was denied as a mask was placed over her face. A calm voice instructed her to count backwards from one hundred. She reached ninety-four.

And then it was all over. Cassandra came to a sort of wakefulness with the feeling that only a few moments had passed, as if somehow the time that had been necessary for the surgery to be completed had been snipped out of her existence. It was only an approximation of consciousness; she could only vaguely recall where she was and what had happened, but that didn't seem a matter of concern. Soft voices reassured her that everything was good, although her body gave her a different message. She was in a semi-reclined position on a hospital bed, pillows lifting her back and she could feel soreness in so many places that it seemed her entire body had suffered some trauma. Even in this confused state she was aware that she was heavily medicated and that the true extent of her injuries was muted by the analgesia. She took rapid, shallow breaths, shuddering as a sharp pain was triggered by each inspiration. She didn't want to open her eyes; the light caused discomfort and kept her in a state of wakefulness. Wakefulness was her enemy; the oblivion of sleep was all that she desired.

It was twenty four hours later before Cassandra achieved full awareness. She was wakened by a nurse calling to her. “Cassandra, come on! Wake up, there are things for you to do now.”

She groaned a wordless complaint. She looked at her surroundings for the first time and saw that she was in a small room, bright daylight filtering through blinds. The nurse was standing over her, smiling. She was dressed in the same latex uniform that Cassandra had worn, but wasn't hooded. She wore her dark hair in a precise chin length bob with a short fringe and wore heavy make-up. Cassandra took an immediate liking to her; she had a good-natured face and a gentle demeanour. She asked Cassandra how she was feeling.

“Sore,” she croaked. “Everything... everywhere. What's been done to me?”

The nurse adjusted a pump. “That should help with the pain.” Cassandra could see a line from the device was connected to the cannula in her hand. “You'll have to wait until you see the doctor to hear what procedures you underwent. I'm not allowed to give that information. But I'm sure you're aware of some of the changes.” She gestured towards Cassandra's body. The merest glimpse showed Cassandra that her breasts had swelled considerably beyond their natural dimensions.

She wailed in shock. “Oh God! My... They're huge.” Her moderately sized breasts were now a D-cup, she estimated. She felt sick that this violation had been enacted upon her.

The nurse wiped a cloth over her face and scalp. “They'll be just fine. They look good on you. Don't get upset. The bad news is that your corset has to be applied now and that will hurt a little.”

Cassandra looked at her pleadingly. She understood now why her body was aching and knew that to constrain it in a tight garment would cause agony. The nurse was not to be deterred, however. She made Cassandra raise herself slightly from the pillows and slid the satin corset behind her back. Every movement, no matter how small, was a source of pain.

As the corset was moved into place, Cassandra cursed, trying to control her response to the pain. The lower parts of her breasts (which were currently bound with surgical tape) were supported by cups which were attached to the upper part of the corset. The nurse used a hook to close the tiny spherical buttons of the corset. By the time it was in place, Cassandra was crying with pain and struggled to breathe.

The nurse stroked her hand. “There, there, all done now. You can relax, the worst is over for today. A few days and you'll be over all this pain. Now I need to shave you before Doctor Paola comes to see you. You want to look presentable, don't you?”

Cassandra nodded sadly. “Can you wipe my nose? It feels all blocked.”

“We need to be careful, it's quite swollen.”

Her awareness was still compromised by the opiates used to control pain, and a horrified Cassandra guessed only now that it was swollen because of surgery. “Rhinoplasty?” she gasped? “Can I see?”

“Yes it is and no you can't!” the nurse replied. “You've got a lot of bruising and it would only upset you to see it. Wait a few days and you'll see the new you.” Cassandra nodded, knowing that she wouldn't be able to persuade the nurse. It wouldn't have surprised her if the room was under some form of surveillance and that the conversation was monitored.

The nurse started to brush lather over Cassandra's scalp. She was suddenly curious to find out more about her. She saw that she had a tattoo on her wrist, and her number was 113. “Do I call you 113? Or do you have a name?”

“I'm Jennifer. You can call me that, or nurse, or 113. I don't mind. I'm your personal nurse so we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days.”

Cassandra looked surprised. “I used to be Jennifer too! That's so strange.”

The nurse nodded. “I know a lot about you. I've read all your background history.” Cassandra's face betrayed her discomfort. “Don't worry, I'm not here to judge. Actually I was very interested to read about you and I'm so pleased to finally talk to you.”

The razor dragged over the soft stubble as once more Cassandra was rendered hairless. “Jennifer, were you shaved when you came here?”

“No. I did have to have my hair cut though. It was long and they made me get this style.”

Cassandra felt a little hurt. “So why am I bald? I though all the submissives here were shaved.”

“Everyone is treated differently. It's a combination of your mistress' desires and the results of psychological profiling. Do you like me shaving you?”

Cassandra was surprised by the question. Obviously she hated being bald, didn't she? But she had to admit, the sensation of being shaved by Jennifer was pleasant. More than pleasant, arousing. She was gentle and patient, but sensitive and sensuous too. “Yes, it feels good,” she whispered. She felt like admitting it was a betrayal of herself, that it may have been another step on a path which would mean she was forever bald.

“You'll look amazing when all the work is finished and you're healed. The doctors here all all real artists. You're such a pretty girl and with your little enhancements you'll look stunning.”

Cassandra blushed. “Pretty? But my teeth are ruined and I'm bald. And I suppose I have so much bruising that I look like a panda.”

Jennifer looked at her affectionately. “You're... a work in progress. I can see under the swelling and bruises. Trust me, you'll look sensational.” She wiped Cassandra's bald scalp with a damp cloth to remove the traces of shaving cream, then placed a gentle kiss on her scalp. “You suit being bald. Not everyone could look so good with no hair.”

Starved of any affection for the previous days, Cassandra felt a surge of fondness for Jennifer. She was sure she'd made her first friend at the clinic. Their conversation was disturbed as Paola made an entrance and Jennifer immediately became more formal and deferential in her behaviour.

“How's the patient doing?” she asked Jennifer.

“Very well. All her vitals are normal, wound healing appears excellent and she's in good spirits.”

Paola stared at Cassandra with an objective eye. “She can get up. She's ready to stand.”

Jennifer immediately came to assist the patient to rise from her bed, causing her to groan at the hurt which every movement caused. Cassandra was determined not to cry in front of Paola.

“I know this is painful but activity aids healing. As a little motivator, we have a new patient arriving at the end of the week and if you can prove yourself fit you'll be her named nurse. I'm sure you want to get to experience the work we do here. Obviously your surgery has given you certain insights but I hope you're eager to demonstrate your clinical skills.”

“I am, doctor,” Cassandra muttered as she struggled to twist her corseted body. As she moved from the bed she was aware of a tangle of tubing connected to her: to the cannula in her hand, another to the nasogastric tube which remained present, and she saw that she was catheterised.

“I'm going to discontinue the morphine tomorrow. You'll still have anti-inflammatories and can manage any residual pain through strength of will. But you'll have to study to get on top of the regime for the new patient and you need a clear head. Opiates would screw your memory.” Paola turned to face Jennifer. “Use an ice mask to reduce the swelling on her face. Corset to stay on for four hours today.”

The cessation of opiates meant that Cassandra was in a lot of pain the following day, especially since she was now expected not merely to stand, but to walk back and forth in her room and wasn't allowed to spend her day in bed. She was expected to sit in a chair and study to prepare for her first patient. The material she was given was very dry, studies on best practice to encourage healing, texts on minimising scarring in plastic surgery, policies on confidentiality. She found her attention was poor on the first day as she was in constant pain. She'd made more discoveries since her morphine had been stopped, including that her lips had been modified. She'd assumed the soreness was due to swelling from her nose, but had now found stitches deep inside the sulci, top and bottom. She was also in little doubt now that her buttocks had received implants.

By the end of the week the pain had reduced greatly and Cassandra's mobility was returning to normal. The biggest adjustment she'd had to make was that she hadn't eaten anything; all her nutrition was supplied via the nasal feeding tube, which was permanently connected to a pump. The days seemed to merge as she wasn't allowed out of her room once and was merely supplied with study materials. Jennifer spent a lot of time with her, and that was her greatest pleasure. She was good company and it soon felt like they'd been friends for a long time. She was completely open with Cassandra except when it came to discussing certain matters at the clinic, including Cassandra's own surgery.

“We have to be very obedient and respect the codes that are in the policies. People pay a lot of money for our services and we have to be professional at all times. I've been instructed not to discuss your surgery with you and I won't. Some patients will be informed of every detail of their modifications and at the other extreme some are kept heavily sedated until all procedures are completed and they're healed. Your patient will be much the same as yourself: she knows she's going to be changed but doesn't know any details about what will be done. You'll be discreet at all times, but politely. Some mistresses want their slaves to be treated very severely, punishments for asking questions, but you can be nice to your patient. I'm sure that will suit you better, you don't really strike me as the mean type.”

Cassandra found her thoughts drifting back to her first encounter with Ilione, back when she'd been called Zoe. She felt a longing to be reunited with her lovers, Ilione, Nicole, but most of all Nathalie. Without that chance meeting she'd still be a humble nurse in an NHS hospital. For all her doubts, for all the pain she'd endured, she regretted nothing. Her life now seemed unimaginably rich, unpredictable, exciting. She squeezed Jennifer's hand. “You might be surprised. I've had my moments.”

Jennifer's attention was momentarily distracted as she received a message on a pager. “Oh, we need to get you ready. Shaved first.”

Cassandra sat passively as her head was lathered. She'd had to endure twice daily head shaves since arriving on the island and had become used to it. The absence of mirrors in the room had made it easier for her to accept her baldness but each time Jennifer shaved her she again had to accept that she was totally hairless. Not that the process was without its pleasures. The enthusiasm Jennifer had expressed for Cassandra's baldness seemed to grow each day and her friend's encouragement had made Cassandra ambivalent about wanting to grow back her hair. Each time Jennifer finished shaving her head she would stare in admiration at Cassandra, anoint her scalp with a delicately perfumed unguent and reward her with a little kiss on her head. Today Jennifer seemed to be particularly diligent. After the shave was complete she took tweezers and plucked away the few fine hairs that had started to sprout on the edges of her patient's eyelids and across her brows. “You look perfect, Cassandra. Just perfect!” she beamed.

Cassandra was allowed out of her room for the first time in days, not quite sure of the precise number. She felt her heart sink as she saw that she was being taken to the dentist's room once more. She made a respectful greeting to the assembled team. The hooded figures were forbidding and anonymous. Was the dentist Miss Erin once more? She peered into her eyes, trying to recall some identifying feature.

“Yes, it's me,” a familiar voice said. “I'm a little offended that you don't recognise me. After all it's you who's changed since your last visit. Now get in the chair and we can fix you up.”

Jennifer escorted Cassandra to the chair and helped the nurses to immobilise her. As previously, her arms were pinioned by pads and belts enclosed her body, legs and head. Jennifer gave her a warm smile and fluttered her fingers as she took her leave. Cassandra found herself panicking as a mask was pushed over her face and a soft hissing was heard. She considered holding her breath but knew it would only cause a brief delay in her unconsciousness and would almost certainly irritate Erin. She inhaled and almost instantly felt her sense of self dissolve.

It was Jennifer's voice that roused Cassandra. Although she felt some after-effects from the anaesthesia, she felt clear headed, as if she was waking from a good sleep. She realised that she was in her own room and guessed that she'd been sedated to allow the anaesthetic to clear from her system.

Jennifer was almost silent, merely giving minimal instruction, but Cassandra could see she was full of happiness and anticipation. The corset was applied, a little tighter now, still painful as it pressed against the tender, bruised flesh of Cassandra's artificial breasts. Some make-up was applied to her face now, which took her by surprise: she'd not been allowed any since her arrival at the clinic. Jennifer gently applied it to her nose, around her eyes. “You're covering up the bruising?” Cassandra asked. Jennifer looked at her as if she'd asked something forbidden and only responded with a mischievous smile.

Once the make-up was finished Cassandra was taken out of her room, and arrived in a photographic studio. There were several women here, of whom only Paola was known to Cassandra. Jennifer led her to stand on a black circle which was inlaid into the linoleum and she was instructed to turn.

Before her was a full length mirror, and for the first time in a week Cassandra could see her reflection. She felt a moment's numbness as she took in the changes to her features. Her face had been subtly remodelled, although the changes to her nose were rather radical. She'd been given a classical nose, the bridge forming a continuation of the line of her forehead when seen in profile. The tip of her nose and nostrils had been reduced to give a fine elegance. Underneath the heavy make-up a little bruising was still visible and she knew that her nose would be even more delicate when healed. Her lips seemed to have been drawn tighter, narrowing her mouth, which had been sculptured to give a cupid bow. She smiled, relieved that the face she saw, although shockingly unfamiliar, was one that she found attractive. As her lips drew back she gasped with pleasure. Her teeth had been restored to their previous state. No! As she looked closer she saw that they were far more perfect, regular, even, pearly white, but different to how they had been. A small gap was now noticeable between the upper central teeth.

Paola had come to stand beside her to study her reactions and now felt that she should explain what had been done. “The teeth, they're veneers. You have perfect teeth now, thanks to Miss Erin's excellence. And your face... I remodelled your lips and nose, but you also have implants to lift your cheekbones and to balance your chin. They're very small changes but they improve your facial symmetry and those subtle differences are what makes some women look perfect.”

Cassandra muttered some words of thanks. She felt very emotional as she tried to accept the face she could see was her own. “I'm sure,” Paola continued, “that you already realised that your breasts and buttocks have received implants. You've also been on a very rich diet and you've gained some weight, while the waist training has ensured that the pounds have accumulated in the right places. The work isn't completed on your figure yet, but you'll have a very voluptuous hourglass figure.”

For the first time, Cassandra noticed that what Paola had said was true. There was a new fullness to her arms and thighs. She twisted and could see her rump had now acquired a soft fullness. She'd always been proud of her slim figure and felt a profound anguish to see that it had now been taken from her in the space of a few days. The assembled team seemed very pleased with her though and praised her lavishly. Despite her shock at her new body she felt a pride as the clinic staff praised her beauty and the good taste of Nathalie in devising these changes.

A photographer now recorded in detail the results of Cassandra's modifications. She found herself smiling joyously as she imagined that Nathalie, Ilione, Nicole would soon be able to see her. She again found herself longing to present herself to them in person.

Once the photography session was completed Cassandra was allowed to dress for the first time since surgery. The tight latex outfit caused her pain as it pressed tightly over her bruised body, but once it was in place, that same tightness felt wonderfully reassuring to Cassandra, as if it made her understand her new form better. Paola took her to her office and passed her a file. “You need to familiarise yourself with this. Your new patient arrives tomorrow.”

Cassandra thanked the doctor and started to scan the information. She turned some pages and found drawings of what would be the result of the work at the clinic, then looked up at the doctor, a gasp escaping her lips.

The Princess Elspeth bade farewell to the delicate girl who she'd come to adore more than life itself. She gazed anxiously at Florentia, and pondered that perhaps she'd delayed this journey too long. The girl's face was wan, but for the roses burning in her cheeks. Her emaciated frame was frequently tormented by coughing, and without fail the handkerchiefs that she held to her mouth would be spotted with blood. The road to the city of Prague would be treacherous but the great master was the only one whose arcane knowledge could save Florentia now. She must persuade Dee to return with her, but was convinced that he would not be able to resist her offer. Gold and jewels would not suffice; this was a man who reputedly possessed the secret of the philosopher's stone, so what use was material wealth to him? But what she possessed was the finest library in all of central Europe, and the great sage, she knew, had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She selected a rare manuscript volume of the hymns of Hermes Trismegistus, a wonderful bait to snare her fish. She knew that once Dee had seen this he would agree to anything to have free access to her library.

The road north through the mountains was hard, the storms turning the roads to near impassible mud. Even Elspeth was reduced to pushing the wheels of the carriage to free them from the quagmire. Every moment's delay caused her grief, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her dear Florentia was close to death. She arrived in Prague and sought counsel with Dee that very night, despite the late hour. He was furious that his researches had been interrupted, and those of his accomplice, the gruff and untrustworthy Kelley.

“Woman, why come thee hence on this storm-tossed night? I fear thou art sent by my enemies to distract from my work, to aid the forces of darkness and ignorance.”

“Verily, my lord, I come in good faith, for thou art my only hope. My dear, treasured friend labours in the bonds of a heinous distemper, which only thee may cure.”

It was Kelley who broke in. “My master is no physick. Get thee hence, wench, for we have work of importance here. Nothing you have can interest my lord and divert him from his needful tasks.”

“No wench am I, I am of the royal line. Nor is your boast that I have nothing to interest Master Dee truthful.” And she passed the small volume, bound in ancient hide, into the hands of the alchemist. He perused the ancient vellum and his eyes took on an unearthly gleam.

“A fine rare work, one which I have only heard of in rumour. Forsooth, I never held that such a volume existed yet. Whence came this jewel?”

“From my library, a cornucopia of rare knowledge, assembled by my great and noble grandfather. But we must set out this very night if you are to see this treasury. And thou must pledge to use thine powers fully to aid my love.”

Despite the slurs and innuendo that the roguish Kelley whispered in his ear, the great John Dee was not to be diverted from his desire to see this library. And so the three travellers set off to follow the course southward through those same mountains. Alas, the storms continued to rage unabated and it was a full three days before the Princess arrived at her palace once more. A grave-faced steward met her as she passed through the gate.

“Woe, woe, woe hath befallen us. For the gentle spirit Florentia has left us this very eve, to finally find her peace.”

There was no room for sadness in Elspeth, only a rage, a refusal to accept that death could hold dominion over Florentia. She addressed Dee. “My lord, this will be thine greatest challenge! Thou shall return this girl to the realm of the living. For her spirit is restless and must not be allowed to cross into the dark realm of Hades. We must act now before Charon bears her from us to the eternal gloom beyond the Stygian waters.”

Dee looked moved as he spoke. “Fair princess, would that I could help. I fear only the redeemer was blessed with the power to overcome mortality.”

Kelley leant forward to whisper in his ear. Dee looked disconcerted. “My Princess, Kelley will use his scrying mirror to consult our angelic advisor. She will provide an answer to this question. But I fear that nothing may be possible to return Florentia to this sub-lunar world. Even Orpheus was thwarted in his expedition to regain his lost love.”

The two men, despite the ardours of their journey, set themselves in a distant chamber in the palace. The Princess strode back and forth outside the door, every passing moment increasing her agony. She heard Kelley shouting words in a strange guttural tongue, then replies came to him, the voice that of a young girl. “But how can this be?” the Princess thought, “For no door but this and no window lets in this chamber, and only two men entered.”

The sun had made a half circuit of the heavens by the time that the men emerged. Dee looked aged and pale, Kelley a shadow of his previous forceful persona. Elspeth was moved to see what these men had endured in their quest to seek life for Florentia. Dee nodded toward her. “My lady, I am tired beyond what any man of my years can reasonably suffer, and yet sleep must wait. For the angel gives hope that the fair Florentia may yet live. We must to her this instant.”

Kelley excused himself; he would gather the necessary items to conduct the enchantment. The Princess and the alchemist entered the chamber where Florentia lay motionless, a lady-in-waiting who carried out a vigil was dismissed. “Take this robe from her body. We must enact a violation on this maid, I fear. Her body must be made hairless from head to toe.”

Elspeth refused to allow this. She adored the long golden tresses which crowned Florentia and wonderfully enhanced her features. But Dee was not to be denied. “My lady, the angel spoke of this without equivocation. The maid's body must be marked with symbols in order for her anima to return. The presence of any hair will deny the efficacy of these magical inscriptions and condemn our labours to failure.”

Thus, Elspeth was forced to accede to Dee's demands and had a servant bring shears, soap and razor. She would let no other hand touch the body of her beloved Florentia and used the razor herself, delicately shaving every trace of soft downy hair from the young woman's corpse. Dee examined her work closely, using a glass to reveal any hair which had evaded the blade of the knife. The Princess was moved to tears as she cut away the golden curls from the girl's scalp. She was trembling as she shaved away the ravaged stubble, but was determined that no other hand could violate the beauty of Florentia thus. The shaven girl laid out on the dais looked tiny, vulnerable, the difference in shade barely discernible between her wan flesh and the sheet on which she lay, her skin now as fine and translucent as vellum. Even her brows and eyelashes had, at Dee's insistence, been made to undergo the attentions of the blade.

The coarse, untrustworthy Kelley now returned, bearing in his fists clumps of strange leaves. He ground them with salts in a pestle and mixed them with rare oils to form a paste, with which he anointed the body of the girl. Elspeth felt a disgust to see his dark, muscular hands dare to touch the white, pure flesh and could only bear this offence by looking away.

Dee had crushed some of the leaves which Kelley had provided into a crucible and now applied a lamp to burn the leaves. A heady smoke filled the chamber and the Princess felt sure that the forms into which the smoke contorted were suggestive of the angel which had instructed the philosopher. The leaves were heated until they had reduced to mere soot, which Dee then blended with an unguent. Taking a brush, he carefully marked the body of Florentia with seven symbols, complex glyphs drawn with the utmost precision. Each limb was given its mark: outer thighs, upper arms. As he drew the design, the sage chanted softly in the tongue of Enoch. Kelley had stationed himself near to the Princess and whispered in her ear: “Those hieroglyphic signs will allow the spirit to regain possession of the part of the body they mark, but only for so long as the mark remains in place.”

The girl's abdomen was painted, then another symbol was added, covering the top of her breastbone. The last symbol, and the most complex, would adorn the forehead of Florentia. As Dee prepared to limn it he glanced up at Kelley with the most pitiable aspect. Elspeth was left in no doubt that this was the most important moment of the ceremony and that most prone to failure should the slightest error occur. She saw the exhaustion that the old man was suffering, and was aghast that this frail being, who had barely slept in three days, was the only hope of salvation for her dear Florentia. The merest error and all would be lost forever.

The last stroke of the brush was made. Dee straightened and looked down at the pale, hairless girl. His brow knotted and he shot a troubled glance at his devious collaborator. Neither seemed to know what they should do now. The Princess felt a cold despair as she regarded them. The ceremony was complete, and yet Florentia still lay lifeless on the slab before her. Lifeless... lifeless... lifeless..? Did her chest rise? Elspeth felt a terror as she gazed looking for confirmation. Now the girl's ribcage fell down, then rose again. She was breathing!

All of the assembled company seemed moved beyond words as they saw vitality return to the girl. No one seemed sure how to act now, and it was Dee who eventually reached out to tap the cheek of Florentia, which was now beginning to suffuse with pink. Her lashless eyes flickered open and her gaze alighted on Elspeth. “My Princess! Thou art home. Please, Madame, I am afflicted by a dreadful thirst, may I be spared a little water?”

The girl was given drink and food and the miracle that she'd experienced was explained to her. She felt her head and gasped piteously as she realised that she was now bald. “My treasure, it will grow back,” the Princess reassured her, but Kelley shook his head cruelly.

“The angel made it clear that the reanimated body is incapable of manufacture of hair. You will remain hairless eternally, my girl.”

Dee checked her hand. “The symbol on thine head must not suffer a perturbation, else the spirit will go hence from thee. It troubles me sore to know how to cause these symbols endure, for thy life will continue for only so long as the glyphs are present.”

It was the uncouth Kelley who suggested a solution. “Slaves and primitives are adorned with tattoos, where a needle pricks ink into the skin. If the glyphs were pricked then they should never be washed from the maiden's skin and her life may sustain.”

And so Florentia was forced to suffer as Dee himself inscribed the arcane symbols, a needle jabbing at her delicate skin, the darkness of the ink so black against her snowy flesh, which now spotted with blood as the needle thrust through the surface.

Cassandra looked up from the novel and peered at the doctor. “This stuff really sells? She's really a rich writer?”

Paola looked at her witheringly. “Now, now, nurse, don't be catty. She's very rich and she's chosen to spend a lot of her money in our clinic so you'll treat her with the utmost respect. She's found a girl that she wants to look like Florentia and we'll make that happen.”

Cassandra blushed as her sarcasm was condemned and nodded obediently. “I'll do everything I can to make her feel welcome doctor. What happens in the rest of the novel? I couldn't get through any more, all those thees and thous...”

“Well, our heroines become sort-of-vampires, feeding on the blood of unsuspecting young ladies around Europe through the ages. Florentia's lust for blood makes her teeth grow into fangs which she has to file and sharpen. If anyone asks you, you say you read the whole book and you adored it!”

“Oh, yes, I loved it, doctor!” she smiled. She picked up the file and took out a picture of the would-be patient. “She's not exactly as I imagine Florentia. The pale, emaciated consumptive. She looks very healthy, a bit...” Overweight was the word that occurred to Cassandra, but she felt that might be construed as judgemental. “A bit voluptuous.”

Paola smiled ironically at her euphemism. “Well that's where we come in. Elspeth is paying handsomely for her transformation and there's no limits to what we can do to reshape her. We'll start with liposuction and a breast reduction. Her hips are quite narrow so she'll look fine. She'll be maintained on a strict dietary and exercise regime to perfect her figure.”

“And she's ok with becoming Florentia? I mean the hair loss and the tattoos?”

“Well, she doesn't know. And you won't so much as hint what will be done to her. Don't get sucked in and start to think you're her friend. Your duty is as a nurse, and that means the person who pays determines exactly what you do. Florentia has signed over all consent to Elspeth, which is legally binding here. This isn't the NHS. Jennifer will be shadowing and mentoring you for some of the sessions, so take direction from her. She's very good.” Paola received a call and answered it with a few words. “Elspeth is here, let's go and say hello.”

They went to a large lounge where the writer was sipping a cocktail. Paola greeted her cordially then introduced Cassandra. “Cassandra is quite new here but a very experienced nurse. She'll be closely supervised and I can assure you that Florentia, and yourself, will receive the best treatment.”

Cassandra remained silent, standing behind Paola. She took in Elspeth: she looked older at close quarters than Cassandra had first estimated, probably mid forties. She was more conventional than expected, shoulder length blonde hair, nicely tasteful make-up. Only the velvet Victorian-style dress made her look like a writer of gothic erotica. She beckoned to Cassandra and indicated that she should kneel beside her chair. The tight latex compressed her bruised body as she complied with the request, making her utter a little moan. “Oh, you're sore aren't you? What have they been doing to you?” Cassandra started to turn her head to look at Paola for permission, but Elspeth held her cheek. “Look at me and answer me!” she said firmly. “I can see bruising under your make-up. What did you have done?”

“I had my nose, lips, chin, cheeks reshaped. Implants in breasts and buttocks. Dental veneers.”

Elspeth clapped her hands in delight. “So much work done. That's tremendous, Paola. It all looks so perfect.”

“Yes, she's on a program to gain weight too, her mistress wants her to have a more 'voluptuous'” (there was an archness in the way Paola said the word) “figure. And her head was shaved.”

This excited Elspeth, who Cassandra was sure had a thing for bald girls. “Oh, lovely! Take her hood off, Paola. I want to see.”

The doctor obliged and peeled the latex away from her scalp. Elspeth stroked her head and winced. “There's a bit of stubble there. I hoped it would be nice and smooth.”

“She's allowed to grow some hair now, Elspeth. She was made to maintain her baldness as a punishment but she's completed her penance now. That's why she's hooded, to conceal the ugly stubble.”

Elspeth was clearly unimpressed. “I don't want her hooded. I want her shaved nice and smooth. It will be good for Florentia to see such a beautiful bald girl.” She gripped Cassandra's cheeks and turned her head so that they were looking into each other's eyes. “Go and get a razor and shaving cream. You want me to shave you, don't you?”

“I'd love it, Miss,” Cassandra lied. “What sort of razor?”

“A good safety razor. I can't use a straight razor, unfortunately. Maybe I can learn while I'm here. I can practice on you.”

Cassandra was shaking as she entered the hair salon and requested the razor and shaving cream from the stylist, explaining why it was needed. She stared at herself in the mirror, fascinated by the perfect symmetry of her new features, by her classical profile. She wore make-up now and had even been given fine curves of black to suggest eyebrows, which flattered her features. She could see a faint bloom of red stubble on her scalp and, pitiable as it was, this was the longest hair she'd had since she'd been shaved on her first day on the island. She'd been thrilled to be told she could begin to grow her hair again, despite the disappointment she'd seen in Jennifer. Now, hardly a day since her last shave the privilege was again withdrawn. And, since the extensiveness of Florentia's transformation would mean a prolonged stay in the clinic, it seemed that the possibility of ending her period of baldness would be delayed for at least a month.

She knelt meekly before Elspeth and offered the razor. The older woman squirted the shaving cream directly onto the top of Cassandra's head, until a large white cone had grown there. “You'll come to me each day to be shaved, won't you, Cassandra?” The nurse looked at her, unable to disguise the sadness she felt and assented. Paola spoke.

“Cassandra should be shaved twice daily if she goes without her hood. Would you care to perform both shaves? If it's too much work I can arrange for one of the shaves to be performed by one of our operatives.”

Elspeth stared straight into Cassandra's big blue eyes. “I'll take great pleasure in shaving her twice daily. Maybe after my surgery I'll struggle for a few days. Could you arrange for someone else to shave her in my presence?” Paola assured her this would be done.

The lather was worked clumsily over the entirety of Cassandra's scalp as Elspeth continued to stare at her features. “She doesn't even have eyelashes! How delightful. Would Cassandra like to kiss Princess Elspeth?”

The description of herself as a princess made Cassandra feel embarrassed. She found Elspeth pompous and more than a little creepy. Nevertheless, she knew she had to work to please her. “I'd be honoured,” she said with a shy smile.

“Let's get you shaved first.” She pulled the razor roughly back from Cassandra's forehead, rasping unpleasantly as it dragged against the stubble. She seemed to be very heavy handed and clumsy in everything she did, which came as no surprise to Cassandra, having seen how she wrote. The nurse didn't risk offending her patron, however, and maintained an impassive mask. “I'm out of practice. I've nicked you in a few places.” Cassandra smiled with deference to show she wasn't concerned, but secretly thought that Elspeth had done it deliberately. Now she felt the older woman's lips close on her scalp, licking and sucking. So that was her game: her vampire fantasies had made her want to taste Cassandra's blood. She kept it going for so long that Cassandra's neck was aching.

Now Elspeth tipped back her head and kissed her on the mouth. She moaned deliriously, seemingly transported to a state of ecstasy by the taste of blood. Her tongue pushed roughly between Cassandra's lips, sliding deep into the cavity of her mouth. Her tongue curled and the tip wove in circular patterns around the bar which pierced Cassandra's tongue. Despite her revulsion at being so roughly treated, she felt herself becoming aroused and was even slightly disappointed when Elspeth roughly broke free from the kiss.

“Oh, you are a little horny bitch! I bet you've used that tongue to please a lot of women, haven't you?” She reached down and stroked at Cassandra's groin. “Mmmm, pierced here too. You'll have to show me more of yourself some time. Paola, I want Cassandra to attend our feast tonight. She can meet Florentia there and get to know her. But no hints about what she will become, understood?”

“I'll be very discreet, Miss,” Cassandra promised. “She hasn't read your books then?”

Elspeth grunted. “Oh Florentia never reads. It does hurt me, she only got a few pages into 'The Twelve Dreams of Cressida Rose'. Still, she has other virtues, so I can forgive her. I'll see you ladies in about two hours then. I've heard you have a first rate chef here, and I'm so hungry after the journey. I'm so looking forward to satisfying my appetites,” she said with a coarse leer.

Shortly before the feast was due to begin, Cassandra was summoned to Paola's office. The doctor examined her scalp, where several nicks were clearly visible. “I'll have a word about that. We can't have you going around with a head full of scabs.”

Cassandra thanked Paola and asked if she could express herself candidly. She was told it was acceptable. “I don't find her very sympathetic, which isn't a problem. I'll always act with professionalism, but I know she wants to go too far, further than I'll accept. It scares me.”

“You're right, I can see she's had her own way far too long. She's spoilt in the extreme. Don't worry, I'll see that rules are reinforced, and that she's made aware that there are standards here. She's bound to try some humiliations with you at the feast. If she's going too far you can catch my eye and I'll intervene. We have a duty to you and a duty to Nathalie.” Cassandra thanked Paola, reassured by the maternal feelings that seemed to have formed between them. “Unfortunately, she's asked that your arms be bound tonight at the feast and I couldn't find any reason to object. Plus you'll be wearing ballets so you're going to have to suffer a little.”

Padded latex mittens were strapped around Cassandra's wrists, her hands forced into tight fists inside. Then her elbows were bound together behind her back, the posture causing her shoulders to immediately ache with strain. Her wrists were cuffed together and a leather sleeve was zipped around both arms, a strap around her chest keeping it in place. The ballet boots were fitted, forcing her insteps to conform to the same line as her shins. The long heels were only separated from the toes by a few centimetres. The padlocks which held them in place seemed redundant given that Cassandra had no use of her hands, but they did serve to hold a short chain which would limit her stride to less than a foot. As Paola helped her to her feet, Cassandra realised how difficult it was to balance: all of her weight was on her toes and her arms were immobile. Paola had her practice walking up and down the corridor to familiarise herself with the sensations. It had been a long time since she'd worn ballets.

The two women entered the hall together, Cassandra tottering along at the doctor's shoulder. The table was already almost full, some of the senior figures from the clinic recognisable to Cassandra. At the head of the table were the guests of honour, Elspeth and Florentia.

Florentia seemed rather unprepossessing in the flesh. She had a fairly pretty face, but was shorter than Cassandra had imagined and had nothing of the consumptive, pre-Raphaelite beauty of the fictional Florentia. She seemed like an excited child at a wedding, and Cassandra thought she seemed remarkably ill-fitted to a relationship with the egotistical Elspeth.

The senior partner in the relationship had clearly spent the intervening hours at the hair salon and now wore a beautiful updo, her tresses sleeked into a gleaming French pleat, with not a single errant hair ruining the helmet-like perfection. Her make-up was heavier now, dark lips and dark eyes giving her a gothic glamour. Cassandra couldn't help feeling that it looked a bit excessive, like she was trying too hard. Her tastes made it clear that she'd come of age in the eighties.

Elspeth immediately summoned Cassandra and introduced her to Florentia. “This is Cassandra and she'll be your personal nurse. She'll be here to look after you and see to all your needs. Isn't she a pretty little thing?”

Florentia stared disconcertingly at Cassandra. Evidently her baldness was something very unfamiliar to the young woman. “Oh, shit, they shaved all her hair off! That's horrible.”

“She likes it, don't you, Cassandra?” The nurse couldn't contradict her patron and nodded. “Feel her scalp, Florentia.” The girl did as she was bid, but reacted like a much younger girl at a Halloween party.

“Oh, it's weird, all smooth and hot.” She pulled her hand away and looked disgusted. Elspeth placed her hand on Florentia's, interlacing her fingers and returned it to Cassandra's scalp.

“She's very kinky, your nurse. She gets turned on by having her head shaved. She'll let you do it for her, won't you 126?”

“Yes, Miss Florentia. You can shave me tomorrow if you please.” Cassandra tried to smile at her but the thoughts of allowing such an immature girl loose on her scalp with a razor seemed terrifying.

“Why don't you put the contact lenses in her eyes now?” Elspeth said, winking deviously at Florentia. The girl seemed thrilled at this new game and retrieved a tiny white case from her bag. Due to the difference in their statures, artificially shifted in Cassandra's favour by the ballet boots, Florentia had to stand on her chair to comfortably access the nurse's eyes. She was heavy handed as she pulled her eyelids apart and thrust in a cool lens. An accidental jab which touched her eye had Cassandra wincing and her eyelids involuntarily closed tightly. Florentia forced the other eye open and inserted a second lens. Cassandra screwed up her eyes to try to adjust to the unaccustomed sensation of having a foreign body in her eye. She blinked and felt a horror as she saw nothing. “That's right, Cassandra, you can't see. They're opaque lenses. You've got big black eyes now, like an alien.”

Cassandra was starting to panic: without her sight her precarious balance would be impossible to maintain and if she started to fall she couldn't put out an arm to steady herself. She knew the wall was only a foot or two behind her and edged back until she could rest her back against it. Only now did she feel she wasn't about to topple heavily to the ground. Elspeth roared with anger. “Did I say you could slouch against the wall?” There was laughter around the table.

“Please, Miss,” Cassandra begged. “I can't balance now. I'll fall...” There was a quieter voice close by now, too quiet for Cassandra to hear above the din around the table. Whatever was said made Elspeth more restrained.

“Very well, you can lean against the wall. But stand upright, head back. Show off those new boobs.”

Cassandra could hear the food being served and had some respite from Elspeth's unwelcome attentions as Florentia and her mistress dined. Florentia soon began to complain. “I don't want salad, I want to try all this lovely food.”

Elspeth sounded annoyed at her public display of petulance. “You'll eat what I choose for you. You need to lose weight. And don't question my decisions, especially in public.” There was a period of strained silence between the two, broken eventually by Florentia's wheedling request to try some of the seafood.

“OK, a little,” Elspeth conceded. “But if you can't control your appetite I might do what Cassandra's owner is doing with her. She's being made into a big fat girl.” This information seemed to amuse Florentia greatly.

“Aww, look, she's blushing. She's going to get really fat then?” Cassandra jumped as she felt the young woman stroking her corseted waist. “You'll have a big jiggly belly under here. Baldy, fatty Cassie. Open your mouth, you look famished.” Cassandra was close to tears from the insults but did as ordered. She was rewarded with a ball of food being thrust deep into her mouth by Florentia's fingers. She baulked as she tasted a potent fishy flavour. “Don't you like seafood? It's good for you, eat it! It's just an acquired taste, like fat bald girls. You need to get used to it. Here, have some of this. Don't just swallow this down, chew it so you can get the taste and the texture. Don't swallow until I say so!”

Cassandra was struggling not to be sick, her lifelong aversion to seafood now becoming a torture. “I'm going to feed you the scraps off everyone's plates,” Florentia continued. “There's loads of food so loads going to waste. I'll have to take off your corset so you can fit it all in your fat belly. Here, try some sea urchin.” The newest morsel which was pushed into Cassandra's lips was more than she could bear. She was astonished that anyone could find this edible and immediately started to gag.

Paola suddenly spoke nearby. “I don't want to spoil your fun but her owner has placed her on a set diet and we'd better not go too far outside her limits. You understand how important control is, don't you Elspeth?” Her tone was light and friendly but there was clearly a reproach there too. “Swallow that last mouthful, Cassandra, and thank Florentia for treating you to these delicacies.” The nurse was shocked to hear Paola's request, but after a moment's thought realised that it was necessary in order to save face for her client. She gulped down the sea urchin, fighting to control her nausea.

“Thank you, Florentia. It was very thoughtful of you to share your food with me,” she said with admirable calm.

“Now I'm afraid Cassandra has to study tonight so her participation in the festivities will have to end now.”

Once she'd said a formal farewell to her tormentors, Cassandra was escorted out of the hall by two slave-maids and returned to her room. It was Jennifer who met her there and freed her from her restraints. As soon as the lenses were removed Cassandra started to sob. “Oh Jenni, I hate them. Elspeth is so creepy and pompous. She really thinks she's a princess from one of her novels. And Florentia is a little spoilt brat! Never met anyone so wrapped up in herself. I don't think she even realised what she was doing to me was cruel.”

“And in a few days Elspeth will be laid up after her surgery and you'll be nursing Florentia after hers. She'll be totally at your mercy.”

Cassandra giggled. “It's not professional to be cruel. But maybe I will take a bit of pleasure in her discomfort.”

“Discomfort? She hasn't got a clue what's going to happen to her. She'll unravel. I never saw anyone else here who was so ill-prepared. She's not got any idea what submission is, she's just a trust fund kid who saw some article in Vice and thought BDSM would be fun to try. Her bad luck was to meet a predator like Elspeth. If she wasn't so bratty I'd feel sorry for her.”

Cassandra didn't have to wait long for her next meeting with Florentia. Early the following morning the two met as Florentia was prepared for her first surgery at the clinic. “You're all alone this morning?” Cassandra asked, surprised that Elspeth wasn't there to support her young friend, who was obviously nervous. She was determined to behave professionally and not show how much Florentia's behaviour had antagonised her the previous night.

“No, Elspeth is having her teeth seen to this morning.” She looked at the floor gloomily and continued in a very quiet voice. “I'm sorry about last night. I do this thing where I have to be the centre of attention when I'm in big groups, especially with strangers and when I've been drinking. I used to be very shy and it's a coping mechanism. I always hate myself after.”

Cassandra hadn't wanted to discuss the previous night, and was hardly won over by Florentia's excuses. “Apology accepted,” she said, smiling reassuringly, not that her patient was looking at her face.

“I'm really stupid, Cassandra,” she went on, her voice betraying her emotion. “I'm not a bad person. Please don't think I'm like that all the time. I want to be nice but sometimes I just can't help myself.”

“We can't see what people's intentions are. We can only judge them on how they act. You should remember that. And if alcohol makes you do things you don't like then you should try to reduce your intake.”

“I know I should. You're so much more sensible than me, Cass. I think you'll make a great friend.” She reached out to squeeze her nurse's hand. “It'll take more than you calling me Cass to make me think of you as a friend,” she thought.

“Well, let's focus on your surgery now. You'll be seeing our surgeon, Doctor Paola soon and I have to do some checks to make sure everything goes to plan.”

As Cassandra took her blood pressure, Florentia asked “What will I be getting done today?”

“I'm sure your mistress has told you she wants some changes made. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of the procedures, Florentia.”

She groaned. “Don't call me that! I'm Heather. Elspeth just has this thing about pretending it's my name. I find it quite embarrassing.”

“I'll call you Florentia. It's what your mistress wants for you and you have to accept it. You're Florentia now, not Heather. You've come to this clinic to be changed to meet Elspeth's desires. The change of name is a tiny detail in your submission.”

Florentia looked lost as she stared into Cassandra's eyes. “I must be crazy to follow her half way around the world and let her choose to do this to me. We only met a few months ago, but she's so exciting. She's shown me a world I didn't even dream of. But she's been nagging me to lose weight since day one and she said liposuction would be the best way for someone as undisciplined as me. So here I am...”

Cassandra felt her dislike of Elspeth intensify. Had she really told her lover that she was merely here for liposuction? Expensive as the treatment in the clinic was, Cassandra started to imagine that, in the long term, Florentia's psychiatric treatment would be more expensive. “Will it be painful?” she asked, suddenly seeming much younger and more vulnerable.

“The procedure will be carried out under general anaesthetic so there'll be no pain at all. But you will be very tender when you wake. There'll be some pain, inevitably, but we can make it bearable with pain relief meds.”

“And when I wake up, I'll be slim?”

“Yes, you'll be much slimmer.”

The surgery was routine and went without a hitch. Florentia was kept heavily dosed with opiates when she came round and spent the afternoon drifting between wakefulness and sleep. Since the surgery had been very extensive any movement caused her distress.

In the evening Elspeth made her first visit. She sat and held her lover's hand and said she had a nice surprise. She drew back her lips in a snarl which Cassandra suspected she'd been practising in a mirror for months. Her teeth had been modified and her upper canines were now lengthened into long, pointed fangs. Florentia looked at her dreamily, as if she thought the fangs were a hallucination. “Oh, you're a vampire,” she whispered, a gentle smile crossing her features.

“I'm the Princess Elspeth. It's becoming real. You shall address me as Princess now, Florentia. Now rise from your bed and see who you are becoming.”

Jennifer and Cassandra complied with Elspeth's instruction and helped their patient to rise painfully from her bed. She was in tears by the time she'd managed to plant her feet on the floor. Elspeth made them remove her gown and she stood naked before a mirror.

The tears of pain were now supplemented by tears of shock. “Oh! My boobs. They're gone.” If Florentia was overstating the change, it wasn't by much. Her previously ample breasts had been reduced considerably and now all that were remained were small buds. The rest of her body had also undergone a reduction and now she had a much slighter figure.

“I love this figure, Florentia,” the self-styled princess gushed. “You'll be on a strict diet from now on. Any weight gains are going to get you very severe punishments. You're not quite at your target weight but you will be in a few weeks.”

Florentia seemed unable to take in the information. She stared at her body in horror, tears flowing, mourning the loss of her beautiful breasts. “I look like a twelve year old,” she cried.

“Florentia, enough of the tears! I'll make you get on your knees to beg for forgiveness if you can't stop them right now. And I know how painful kneeling would be for you.” The younger woman sniffled and tried to control her emotions. Clearly she'd experienced Elspeth's wrath previously. “That's better! Now some gratitude, girl!”

Cassandra watched in disgust as the pathetic figure voiced her thanks for the injuries inflicted on her body. Now Elspeth addressed the nurses. “I'm really ticked off with Florentia. We stopped off in Dubai en route and, against my explicit orders, she went out sunbathing to work on her tan. Can you do something to make her pale?”

Cassandra wasn't sure what could be done, but Jennifer spoke up. “Yes, we can use a bleaching cream and a melanin inhibitor. That should work.”

“I want it done immediately. Tonight.”

“The bleaching agent has to be massaged in. Given the amount of bruising from the liposuction that wouldn't be wise. It could cause further swelling and lead to complications, in addition to the pain it would cause.”

“I don't care about the pain, she deserves to suffer for disobeying. Anyway, I'll consult Paola. I want it done as soon as possible.”

Cassandra helped Florentia back into bed as soon as Elspeth left the room. She was beginning to see how difficult this work could be, as her instinct was to advocate on behalf of her patient. However, Florentia had given Elspeth control over all medical procedures and it was Elspeth who had to be listened to; obeyed without question. Florentia again started weeping, undoubtedly partly as a result of the pain caused by moving, but also because of the shock of seeing what had been done to her. Cassandra stroked her head to console her. She had beautifully soft wavy hair, red-brown with golden highlights and a lighter blonde through the ends. She had no idea that her hair would soon be taken from her. Cassandra felt a great relief when Jennifer administered a sedative, causing Florentia to slip into a restful sleep within minutes.

Early the next morning, Paola came to examine her patient. Her body seemed better able to cope with the changes than her psyche, for, despite her continuing distress, Florentia had healed remarkably well. The swelling caused by the liposuction had decreased dramatically overnight (making her appear even more slender) and the small wounds from her breast reduction looked like they were knitting together very well. Paola congratulated her: “You're very lucky to have such good healing properties, Florentia. I wish all my patients healed with so few problems. I have no concerns that you can continue with the planned treatments today. We'll continue the pain meds as you are still going to be tender for a few days, particularly around your breasts, but within a week this will be perfectly healed.”

Florentia looked lost, devastated. She barely reacted during the examination, only showing a look of concern when the surgeon mentioned further treatments. Once Paola had left and she was alone with Cassandra she tried to extract information from her nurse.

“What's going to happen to me? Is she going to get more surgery done on me?” There was a wild fear in her eyes that made Cassandra worry for her mental state.

“You know I can't discuss that, Florentia. You agreed that Elspeth would decide everything for you and I have to respect her decisions. You'll have your skin bleached this morning, as she told you last night, but other than that I can't let you know anything.”

“Bleached? My skin?” Florentia looked incredulous. She'd clearly not taken in Elspeth's request on the previous night, or else the sedatives and pain meds had caused some amnesia.

“That's right, Florentia. Elspeth wants to get rid of your tan.” Despite Florentia's pitiable begging, Cassandra would disclose no more information. Her curiosity about the procedure was soon to be sated, however, as Jennifer arrived carrying a box with the necessary materials.

Florentia was made to climb from her bed and stand naked, freed of her drips for the first time since surgery. Jennifer tied her hair up so that it didn't impede their work. “We'll start with your face. Close your eyes.” She spoke quite coldly and unsympathetically. Florentia stared at her and defiantly kept her eyes open. “This cream will sting when I apply it to your skin. How do you think it will feel if you get it in your eyes?” The patient reluctantly closed her eyes.

Jennifer put on examination gloves and filled her palm with the white cream from a large pump top dispenser. She started to dab it over Florentia's face, covering every part whilst being careful to avoid her eyes. Once the cream formed a uniform layer she began vigorously massaging it, concentrating one her cheeks and forehead. “We have to make sure it's massaged in really deeply,” she explained to Cassandra. “It'll hurt a bit when we work it into your body where it's tender. I want to see you show some discipline, Florentia. We'll report back to the princess on your conduct and I'm sure she'll be unhappy if you make a scene.”

“But it burns,” Florentia moaned.

“Discipline!” Jennifer said firmly. “Grit your teeth and deal with it. The more you complain the rougher we'll be and the longer it will take.” Now she and Cassandra worked in tandem, slathering the cream over her entire body (her tan was obviously acquired naked), then kneading it into the bruised and tender skin.

At length Jenni was satisfied that her entire body had been treated and instructed Florentia to stand for a further twenty minutes while the chemicals worked at breaking up the melanin. Florentia was trying hard to endure the pain but her contorted face demonstrated her suffering. “Please, Cass, can I sit down?” she asked meekly. She could sense who was the more sympathetic nurse.

“No, Florentia. The cream would be disturbed on your thighs and buttocks. We can't have the back of your legs tanned and the rest pale, can we?”

Time dawdled as they waited for the chemicals to complete their processes and no one seemed much in the mood for conversation. Finally Jenni assented to Florentia showering to wash away the cream. She needed to be helped to wash; the pain from the surgery meant she was unable to raise her arms above her shoulders. She was towelled dry and now examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes widened as she took in the latest changes. “I look so white,” she whispered.

“Actually, there is some residual tan left,” Jennifer observed. “You'll be repeating the treatment for two or three days to get it all. You've also been started on melanin inhibitors so you won't tan now. Make sure you stay out of the sun or you'll burn really quickly.”

Florentia seemed hardly aware of the nurse's advice. “My eyebrows have gone!” she complained.

“They've just been bleached,” Jennifer reassured. Cassandra noted the brows were almost invisible now, and saw that the hairline at her cheek had also been bleached white where some of the cream had come into contact. “The princess has requested that you visit her as soon as the treatment is complete, so let's go.” Florentia hesitated and glanced toward her wardrobe. “You'll do just fine naked. We're keen to have you show off your new body.”

As the three women walked through the corridors of the building, Cassandra could see how pained Florentia was about her new appearance. Every time someone else passed she lowered her head and shrunk from them. She leant close to the young woman and whispered: “Hold your head up and be proud. You're a beautiful woman.” Florentia smiled at her gratefully but Cassandra could see she was close to tears.

They entered the hair salon where Elspeth was present, sat in the treatment chair. Her appearance had changed considerably from the previous night. Her face was whitened with heavy make-up, her lips painted a liquid crimson, eyes defined by harsh black lines. Her natural brows appeared to have been removed and pencil thin arches now took their place. Her hair, which was dripping wet, had been dyed an unnatural black.

“Oh look at my little Florentia!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in a very mannered way, and drawing her lips in a false smile to expose her new teeth.

The girl seemed shocked at her lover's transformation. “Elspeth. Your hair!”

“Princess!” she bellowed. “Address me correctly!” She reached out and took Florentia's left nipple in her long, claw-like, blood red nails. Despite the delicacy of the grip the contact was agonising for the girl, her flesh still sensitive from the recent surgery.

“I'm sorry, my princess. Please forgive me.”

“You've grown much paler, but I hoped for better results. I was assured you could get her as pale as an albino.”

Jennifer was very deferential. “Yes, princess. But it will take several applications. The cream is quite harsh so can only be applied once a day without risking making the skin very dry and damaged.”

Elspeth waved her hand in irritation but seemed to accept Jennifer's words. She drew Florentia close to her and stared at her disquietingly. “I'm a vampire now, darling. And if I bite you, you will be too. Would you like that?”

Florentia looked terrified, but there was excitement there too. “Please, princess. It would be so painful. I can't...”

The older woman stood and threw aside the hairdresser's cape. She enfolded Florentia in her arms; she looked so tiny and vulnerable now, naked, slender, pale. “Offer your neck to me. Submit.”

Florentia looked into her eyes, any defiance quickly being destroyed by the fierceness of Elspeth's gaze. She lowered her head slowly to her shoulder, exposing the left side of her neck, trembling all over now.

The princess slowly lowered her head and let her lips touch the girl's soft flesh, surprising her with gentle kisses instead of the anticipated pain. Just when the girl seemed to relax, to believe that she was safe from injury, Elspeth opened her jaws wide and bit. Florentia moaned at the unexpected pain, then as Elspeth increased the pressure she started to squeal, eventually giving a full throated scream.

Elspeth shifted her lips and began to suck at the wound, with a slurping sound that disgusted Cassandra. As she continued to draw at the wound she began to moan ecstatically and appeared to be closing on an orgasm while Florentia mewed like a wounded kitten. Elspeth raised her head at last, her teeth bared and stained with blood, hissing with a strange delight. Florentia seemed to have weakened and hung limply in her arm, crimson trickles dribbling down her neck from two wounds. The princess extended her tongue and with the tip licked away the flow of blood, sighing rapturously at the taste. “Take her,” she said at last to Cassandra.

Florentia was guided to a chair. She looked grey with shock, shivering pathetically as Cassandra cleaned the wound, relieved to see that the bite was no more than a superficial scratch. “Our souls have changed forever, Florentia,” Elspeth announced. “Can you feel your body changing?”

Florentia looked dreamily at herself in the mirror, her neck twisted to allow herself a better view of the wounds that her lover's fangs had inflicted. Her sudden calmness was surely a result of the narcotics which coursed through her veins, and there was something about the way she viewed her environs that suggested she was in the grip of a hallucination. “It's time I had my hair cut, don't you think, darling?” Elspeth called to her. “Would you like to stay and watch?”

“I'd love to, your highness,” she answered shyly. “You're not going to get it cut short though? The black is already a big enough shock.”

Elspeth said nothing, merely exchanging a knowing look with her stylist, a young Japanese woman named Rie, whose own hair was cut in a very severe white blonde bowl cut, mushrooming out a full inch above her ears, the lower part of her head dusted with red stubble decorated with shaved geometric patterns. Her tanned arms were entirely tattooed in pastel shades, flowers and leaves drawn in a stylised manner which extended over the backs of her hands and even onto her fingers. These fingers now took a set of clippers and fitted a small guard. She spent a few moments combing through the section of hair at Elspeth's nape which was the only hair on her head which wasn't securely twisted and pinned tightly to her scalp. The nape section started more than half way up her ears and rose higher in the centre, forming an inverted V. Rie lifted the long hair from Elspeth's neck with her comb and activated the clippers.

Florentia wailed as she saw the blades rise effortlessly though the damp hair. A long, heavy strand slid free, fell to the floor and coiled like a serpent at Rie's feet. There was a gap in the hair on the back of Elspeth's head now, a gap where her hair was cut close to her scalp, just millimetres remaining. Cassandra, familiar with how clippers worked, could judge that Rie was using a number two guard. Florentia voiced her opinion that her mistress was being shaved.

“Shaved? I hope not. That's not what we agreed, is it, Rie?” She raised her hand and stroked the velvet-like black pelt. “No, that's just...” Her voice trailed off into a dreamy sigh. The stylist, entirely taciturn, continued to clipper away the hair, until the entire section had been sheared into a perfectly uniform crop. She had a very relaxed air in her rhythm of working, but had removed all the long hair very quickly. Now she massaged conditioner through the short hair (eliciting more ecstatic vocalisations from the princess) before taking a straight razor. She touched Elspeth's crown, causing her to bow her head, then began to shave at her neck. The razor made little upward strokes, shaving away the fine hairs, then continuing upward into the coarser hairs around the hairline. The blade clogged with short black hair, which Rie wiped away on the towel over her left arm. She wasn't merely tidying up the hairline, she was dramatically reshaping it. Cassandra watched the efficiency of her work with admiration. She formed the clippered hair into a perfect V without the need for a single correction. Now the clippered hair formed a lozenge shape on the back of the princess' head.

“Oh my,” an awed Elspeth gasped as she regarded the back of her head in the mirror. She raised a hand from under the cape to explore the sensations of her newly shaved neck and moaned. “You're a little magician, my dear,” she smiled at Rie. “I wish you could cut my hair every week, and you will while I'm here. I'll have to see if we can persuade you to join my entourage before we head home.” The young woman said nothing, and her expression barely seemed to acknowledge Elspeth's praise. She continued her work, now freeing some hair at Elspeth's crown, spraying and combing.

Florentia stared at her lover's transformation with undisguised fascination and was so taken with Rie's work that she failed to notice the entrance of a second hairdresser until she took hold of Florentia's hair. The stylist's appearance made the girl gasp, and Cassandra sympathised. She had a very extreme, almost alien, look. Her long blonde hair had been shaved entirely in front of her ears and across the top of her forehead, the top cropped to a couple of inches and messily spiked up. Her large forehead had been transformed with sub-dermal implants, the edges adjacent to temples puckered by serrated ridges. Her temples were marked by tattoos, scaly, pale blue patterns which extended faintly over the sides of forehead and onto her cheeks. Her white lips were pierced by numerous rings and studs, all the jewellery matt black in contrast to her pale skin.

Her ears were even more heavily pierced, the cartilages penetrated in numerous places by thick metal. The lobes were stretched into long ribbon-like loops, dangling against her neck, weighted with ceramic and metal beads. Perhaps the most shocking modification was to her eyes, the black irises ornamented by gothic filigrees extending in a cross shape over the whites of her eyes. Cassandra tried to get a better look, convinced that the patterning wasn't merely a result of large contact lenses, but was a tattoo that marked the eyeball.

“I'm Sami, I'm going to be looking after your hair.” As she spoke to Florentia, she revealed her pointed, filed teeth and her split tongue. “I'm taking you blonde to start.” She wrapped a strip of paper around Florentia's neck, binding it tightly over the dressing which Cassandra had used to cover the bite. Then a cape was fastened around her neck and a rubber shield placed over the shoulders. Florentia looked terrified by the hairdresser, enduring her attentions with evident fear. Her long curls were covered entirely with a viscous, greyish liquid, loosely pinned on top of her head as the chemicals stripped her tresses of their colour.

So distracted was she by the attentions of her strange stylist that she'd neglected to study Rie's work on Elspeth. When at last she did glance over, she saw that the princess now had a short bob, the back cut into an arch, revealing much of the shorn nape and the entirety of the pointed hairline. The sides had been angled, parallel to the line of her jaw, forming sharp points which ended at the corners of Elspeth's lips. Now Rie was giving form to a short fringe, cutting precise arches with a shallow point in the centre, a heart shape framing Elspeth's features. The princess regarded herself curiously in the mirror, obviously delighted with her metamorphosis. Cassandra agreed that the cut flattered her features, and she looked younger and more handsome than the blonde woman that had arrived on the island a few days previously.

Rie styled the new cut until it gleamed, forming a sleek helmet on Elspeth's head. The older woman was released from her cape and stood to look more closely at herself in the mirror. She said nothing to Rie, instead taking her in her arms and kissing her on the lips to express her gratitude for the stylist's artistry. Rie showed no discernible change in her expression, only acknowledging Elspeth with a modest bow before taking her leave.

“It looks beautiful, princess,” Cassandra said. “It suits you so well and it's cut perfectly.”

“Thank you, nurse,” she smiled, her vanity responding to flattery. “But I think it's you who should be in the chair now, isn't it? I can see a little stubble, which isn't good.”

Cassandra climbed into the chair, trying to maintain a good-natured air, but inside feeling a repulsion as she anticipated Elspeth's touch.

The princess called over Florentia and Sami to assist with Cassandra's latest shave. “I'll have to be careful today. Paola wasn't at all impressed that I cut her dear little Cassie. I've been told that every nick I cause from now on will mean I'm not allowed to touch you for a day. She's such a killjoy!”

Cassandra nodded in agreement, but was delighted that the doctor had made good on her promise to provide protection. Now Elspeth addressed Sami. “Be a dear and lather her for me. Menthol shaving cream will be nice.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks colour as the stylist worked the thick foam over her scalp, long, sharply pointed nails caressing the bare skin. She still felt uncomfortable with her reflection, a strange face peering back at her. She still felt she should see a girlish face with long red hair, not this bald woman with something unmistakeably artificial in her features. Alarmingly, she could see that her rich new diet was making her cheeks (and the rest of her body) fuller by the day.

Sami had now covered Cassandra's scalp with an even white layer and her scalp started to tingle as the menthol was absorbed. Elspeth had selected a razor and was showing it to Florentia, whispering something of her intentions. It was the younger woman who now took hold of the razor and nervously took position behind Cassandra. “Just put it at her forehead and draw it back, nice and even,” Elspeth ordered. “You can press quite firmly, that will make it shave very close.”

Florentia made a slow stroke from forehead to crown, her features showing a dullness and confusion from the effects of the medication. She stared at the strip of bare scalp which the blades had revealed. Now Cassandra felt a desire to squirm as Florentia, then Elspeth, started to caress the shaved strip. “Doesn't it feel delicious?” the princess asked. Her lover merely moaned excitedly, and it was obvious that both were becoming aroused.

“Florentia, my neck is even smoother, feel it.” She did as she was instructed, her fingers sliding up her mistress' neck, a little moan escaping as she felt bare skin where hair should start. Cassandra watched in the mirror as Florentia explored the feeling of the velvet on Elspeth's nape, stared into the eyes of her lover and initiated a kiss. The princess moved cautiously, careful not to let her immaculate coif touch the bleach which covered Florentia's locks. Even in the heat of passion she was careful to maintain her image. After a long joyous kiss, Elspeth forced Florentia back. “You still didn't tell me what you think of my new haircut, Florentia. That's very rude!”

“I'm sorry, princess. It was a shock to see you with short black hair but now I'm getting used to it I can see how sexy it is. You look really beautiful.” The compliment was rewarded with a continuation of the kiss. Cassandra found herself staring down into her lap, trying to wait patiently. The princess eventually remembered the task she'd initiated.

“My little darling, I think it would be nice if we just watched Cassandra being shaved by Sami today, wouldn't it? I want to see a straight razor on her head, getting her smoother than ever. Sami, indulge me.” She moved behind her lover, wrapped her arms around the small girl, her hands hidden in the folds of the cape, and Cassandra was certain her fingers were exploring Florentia's sex, to judge from her reaction.

Now Cassandra found herself in Sami's power. She spread her fingers under Cassandra's jaw, gripping firmly and forcing her head back. Then the razor made long, slow tracks back over the dome of her head. The keen blade rasped softly as it took away the faint stubble, and Cassandra felt breathless, completely controlled by this fierce barbarian. Sami made her tilt her head to the side as she shaved the temple, and Cassandra stared at herself in the mirror from the corner of her eye, feeling a passion growing inside her. She loved the image of herself, meek, bald, humiliated, controlled by this wild and powerful creature, who looked barely human. As Sami shifted position she turned Cassandra's head so that their eyes met, and Cassandra immediately wanted to look away from the strange, frightening eyes which scrutinised at her so forcefully, but found herself unable to break her eye contact. Sami bared her teeth in an enigmatic smile, then forced Cassandra to bow her head as she commenced shaving the back. Now that she could only stare into her lap she became aware of Florentia's breathless moaning as Elspeth urged her toward an orgasm.

As the razor finished its course over the entirety of Cassandra's scalp, Elspeth reminded Sami that her eyebrows were to be shaved too. Moments later, Cassandra's eyebrows had been lathered and shaved, removing the finely painted arches she'd been allowed that morning. Now her face had the strange blankness once more that browlessness lent to her features. “Some cologne,” Elspeth instructed Sami. “Something rich in alcohol, I want her to feel a nice tingle.”

Sami applied the cologne liberally, each slap of her hand causing a sharp smarting of Cassandra's scalp. She wanted to scream but tried to suppress the pain, and her mouth emitted only a breathy sigh. “Kiss her head,” Elspeth roughly ordered Florentia. The girl bent forward and started to passionately apply her wet mouth to Cassandra's newly bared skull, her moaning increasing as her mistress crudely stimulated her under the cape. Cassandra closed her eyes, transported to bliss by her client's attentions. Moments later, Florentia wailed ecstatically as she climaxed.

Elspeth wrenched her upright and kissed her while the orgasm continued to consume her flesh. “You see, bald can be erotic, can't it, darling,” the princess whispered between kisses. “You're learning all the time.”

Abruptly, she ended her embrace with Florentia and commanded Cassandra to come with her. As she left the room she gave some last commands. “Sami, finish colouring Florentia's hair, but no styling till I return. And you be a good girl, Florentia. If Sami has any problems with you she's got my permission to mete out any punishment she sees fit.” Florentia vowed her obedience, but Cassandra was sure she would never have the courage to defy Sami, who exuded a fierceness which clearly terrified the young girl.

Cassandra made her way back to to princess' apartment, where she was informed that she would help her to dress. An array of vintage silk dresses were displayed, all of the most beautiful manufacture. “Now that I have my flapper bob, I want a real jazz age look,” Elspeth mused, holding a mint green dress against her body and scrutinising herself in the mirror. Cassandra examined the dresses, awed at the beauty of each. She lifted one out, a royal blue dress, boldly patterned with golden flowers.

“This is gorgeous, princess! You should try it on.” The older woman indulged her and changed into the dress, sleeveless, a simple tunic-like bodice with a low waist and a pleated skirt. It looked ravishing.

“Oh, it is pretty,” the princess smiled as she regarded her reflection. “I feel like I really am the princess in the story now, the last section in the 1920s.”

“Yes, you really have become her,” Cassandra encouraged, despite never having read this section of the novel. “Maybe some jewellery now?”

The two women explored the princess' jewel case, which was amply stocked with treasures. In the end they decided on a long string of pearls to adorn Elspeth's slender neck, a wide gold bangle studded with a large ruby on her right wrist and long beaded earrings to draw attention to her newly exposed earlobes. A pair of elegant blue silk shoes completed the outfit, and Cassandra was entirely sincere as she praised the princess' beauty. The new haircut and outfit had transformed her.

“We'd better go and see how Florentia is progressing,” Elspeth replied.

When they entered the salon, Florentia, now freed of the cape and naked again, rose to greet the princess. Her long curls were now a pale honey blonde, which seemed to make her bleached skin look even paler. “I'm blonde now, princess,” she said shyly, but it was obvious that she liked the change.

Elspeth played with the curls and a smile spread over her face. “Just perfect, perfect,” she muttered. “Lovely and soft, and the colour is just right. You're an artist, Sami! Now let's see her in the style we discussed.”

Sami wordlessly directed Florentia to take her place once more in the chair and combed through the blonde curls. She combed a section from the front forward over the girl's face and directed the rest of the hair back, loosely gripped with a clip. She looked over at Elspeth for a confirmatory sign. A nod indicated the princess' assent.

Sami gathered in her fist the hair which had been combed over Florentia's face and without delay brought her scissors to roughly hack it away, no more than an inch from the girl's scalp. It took only seconds to chop away the hair and Florentia seemed frozen by shock. Only as Sami let the long severed curls fall to the floor did she numbly start to curse at the violation of her beautiful hair.

“My hair!” she complained fearfully to Elspeth. “What's she done?” Her eyes flickered anxiously at Sami. Clearly the stylist terrified her.

“Don't whine, darling. It's most unbecoming. Just sit and look pretty. Sami will make you look more lovely than ever.” She silenced Florentia as she made to add further protests and now Sami attacked her forehead with unguarded clippers. The ravaged hair was shaved close to her scalp, a band a full two inches wide being shorn from her forehead. Cassandra could see she was close to tears but a disapproving look from Sami made Florentia contain her grief. The clippered area was now lathered with the same menthol foam as had been used on Cassandra and Sami showed the razor to the terrified girl.

“Don't move, there's a good girl. This is sharper than you can imagine and soon you'll be as smooth as Cassandra. I love the look of an extended forehead, don't you?” Florentia's eyes widened as she regarded Sami's unnaturally large expanse of bare skin, which was also heavily modified by implants. Cassandra could see pain in the girl's eyes as her imagination dared to think that her mistress may turn her into something similar to Sami. She lowered her eyes as the razor scraped away the lather and with it the last vestiges of hair.

“There's a difference of colour in the shaved skin,” Elspeth said with some disappointment.

“I'm sure in a couple of days we can even that out with the bleach, Cassandra reassured. “Until then a little make-up will cover up the line.”

Sami was shaving down Florentia's temples, forming a new hairline which conformed to a much simpler line than the natural growth. “Get rid of those brows. They look ridiculous after the bleaching,” Elspeth instructed. Sami dabbed a little foam on to lubricate the passage of the blade which now stripped away the pale bands of hair. Florentia's lip quivered as she looked in the mirror and saw herself browless for the first time. Her artificially enlarged forehead looked even more extreme now.

Sami now crimped Florentia's hair. The process wasn't quick, her hair long and abundant. By the time the crimping was complete her hair looked absurdly voluminous. Sami divided her hair into sections and started to loosely braid her hair, long thick plaits now forming at each temple. The braids were arranged around her head, criss-crossing, strings of tiny pearls interwoven, jewelled pins added as ornaments. Sami formed the hair at the back into a complex braided knot, jewelled and ornamented. Cassandra was sure she recognised the style from a renaissance painting and asked Sami if she was right.

Elspeth replied. “It's the style Simonetta Vespucci wears in the portrait by Piero di Cosimo. I adore renaissance art and it looks just perfect for my darling Florentia.”

Cassandra smiled and complimented Sami for her abilities and Florentia on how beautiful she looked. Cassandra was also a lover of art and knew that the style was anachronistic: Piero had lived a century before the time of John Dee, as described in Elspeth's novel. She knew that to point this error out would embarrass the self-styled princess and, great as the temptation was, she decided discretion was the correct course.

Elspeth took a small wooden case and opened it to reveal a golden object studded with pearls and semi-precious stones. With Sami's help it was clipped into Florentia's hair on the top of her head, which was now just behind her hairline. “Now you're really becoming Florentia,” Elspeth whispered blissfully. When Sami had added a thick layer of pale powder to her face and stained her lips crimson, the young girl was indeed transformed. The simple make-up was completed with touches of rouge on her cheeks.

Cassandra had to remind herself that only a few days previously Florentia had been a slightly chubby and very ordinary looking young woman. Now she looked pale and vulnerable and possessed an unworldly beauty. Cassandra helped her to dress in a replica of a sixteenth century dress, a tight embroidered bodice binding her torso tightly, a full skirt sweeping the floor. Florentia looked astonished to see herself, as if she was inhabiting a dream.

“We've got a photographer to see now. I want to get some pictures of us just as we are, and then we'll go to a feast,” Elspeth said. “You two ladies have been very helpful today and you can have the night off. I've spoken to the director and she agreed to it.” Elspeth kissed Sami and Cassandra as she bade them farewell and left with her arm around Florentia's waist.

“The evening to ourselves,” Sami said, smiling. “Why don't you come over to my room? Nathalie is an old friend and she said I should look after you.”

Cassandra felt very nervous as she looked into Sami's strange eyes. “I'm not sure. I have things to prepare for tomorrow.”

Sami placed her hands on the sides of Cassandra's bald scalp. “I think you misunderstand. You will come with me and you'll obey my commands. Don't worry, I won't keep you late. I know how Paola makes her nurses study hard. But for tonight I'm your mistress and you'll address me as such.”

“Yes Miss Sami,” Cassandra replied meekly. Ten minutes later she was in Sami's room and was ordered to undress. As she awkwardly stripped out of the tight latex, Sami came over to help.

“You're still sore from the surgery, aren't you? I hardly recognise you. I saw the film you made with Nathalie and was expecting a delicate little blonde. But now you're curvy and so bald.” As she removed the catsuit from Cassandra she ran the tip of her long pointed nail over the tattooed flower which covered her ribs. “Tattoos now as well, hey? Very nice. I love tattooed girls.”

As Sami undressed she revealed her own tattoos to Cassandra, her entire body covered in scales similar to those on her temples. The tattoos covered all of her trunk and extended to her elbows and mid thighs. The irregular margins on the extremities suggested to Cassandra that the patterning would be extended. Cassandra was breathing heavily as she took in all the modifications which Sami had undergone. Her labia were pierced with heavy titanium rings and her upper arms had raised ridges where implants had been inserted beneath her skin.

“Don't you like what you see?” Sami whispered. “I know not everyone does.”

Cassandra smiled weakly. “I have to admit, I'm slightly shocked. I never saw anyone in the flesh with such extreme mods and I can't help thinking what it would be like to be transformed like you. And that does scare me. But I've been turned on by you since the moment I saw you.”

Cassandra was silenced by Sami's lips, a kiss of force and passion. The intrusion of her divided tongue was slightly repulsive, shocking. Cassandra moaned and squirmed and dared to let her own tongue slide through the cleft, past the piercings in Sami's lips, the tip of her tongue exploring the pointed teeth. Everything rational in her told her these transformations were alien and ugly, yet her body spoke differently; Cassandra found an enormous erotic force growing in her, taking possession, an ecstasy beyond words and reason. Sami was an attentive lover, unpredictable, wild, subtle, forceful. Despite the pain of her still bruised body, Cassandra found herself unable to resist the passions of her lover, climaxes of bliss engulfing her like storm-driven waves breaking over a cliff. Both women were exhausted as they lay arm in arm, panting from their exertions.

Cassandra was still in fear of Sami's gaze, those strange eyes holding her in an unblinking stare. “Your eyes, Miss Sami... they're not contacts, are they?”

“They're not, Cassandra. I've had my eyes tattooed. There's an eye surgeon here who's really perfected the technique. My eyes have been her most complex work to date. You're fascinated, aren't you? I can arrange for her to do your eyes too. I'm sure Nathalie would agree to it. I'll run it by them tomorrow.”

Cassandra felt faint at the idea of her eyes being permanently changed. “No, please Miss. Not that...”

Sami kissed her to silence her protests and to calm her. “You need to accept that this body is no longer your own. You'll change, grow, become beautiful in new ways, become something rich and strange. I love to think of you as you were and see what you are now.” With one hand she held Cassandra's now very ample right breast, and with the other stroked her scalp, to remind her of two of the more obvious changes. “I'm sure you were reluctant to be bald but it looks just right for you. You should consider making it permanent. My temples and forehead have been lasered and they'll never grow hair again.”

Cassandra dreamily let her fingers play over Sami's temple. She felt the skin, perfectly hairless and smooth, saw tattoos which would never be covered by a regrowth of hair. Then she caressed the ridges which reshaped her forehead. “What did you look like before all this was done?”

“Would you like to see?” She sat up and took her laptop. She opened a video file, then skipped on past the start.

“Oh, that's Nathalie!” Cassandra squealed excitedly, suddenly feeling more intensely than ever how she missed her lover.

“And that's me with her.” The woman Cassandra saw on screen was beautiful in a conventional way: slim, long brown hair, nicely applied make-up, even white teeth, free of tattoos. She bore no resemblance to the woman who now sat with her arm around Cassandra's waist.

“No... It can't be!” Cassandra gasped. “What made you want to change so dramatically?”

“I don't know. I always liked tattoos. When I started my tattoos I just got an urge to try more modifications. That was two years ago. I've changed everything since then, but I've still got a long way to go.”

“I can't even imagine anything more that you could do to add to your look,” Cassandra whispered.

“It's just as well I'm the creative one, isn't it then? I can think of a lot of things that I'd like to see done to you. The most pressing need is for more tattoos, I'd say. Would you like that?”

Cassandra felt herself growing weak. She'd been imagining getting more heavily tattooed ever since her day with Reiko but the desire was always countered by her innate caution. Renouncing control always caused a weirdly intense arousal, however, and Cassandra nodded shyly. “You go and get a shower, honey,” Sami instructed her with a kiss.

Ten minutes later, a refreshed Cassandra emerged. Sami was smiling broadly and looked very excited. “I just spoke to Nathalie. She's missing you so much and says she's going to visit in a few weeks. She also agreed to my suggestions. Get a robe on and we'll get you fixed up.”

Cassandra felt a surge of panic. “You mean now? Tonight? I'm getting tattooed?” She'd imagined that she'd have time to adjust to the idea of more ink, sure that getting Nathalie's consent, confirming a design, and arranging an appointment would cause a considerable delay, but Sami confirmed that by midnight Cassandra would have new mods.

The two women found their way to a room on the first floor of the complex where two tattooists awaited them. Cassandra was made to strip as they studied her body and her existing tattoos. “She's going to gain a fair bit more weight, so her mistress had some concerns that her tattoos might stretch and lose shape.” The taller tattooist, Kendra nodded, seemingly unconcerned by Cassandra's obvious distress as she heard she would become much heavier.

“She's going to be kept corseted as she grows? Her waist won't expand as dramatically so I'll add something to her abdomen.”

“Her mistress wants her torso to be covered in flowers. She likes the idea that every tattooist who works on her will add a flower in a very personal style. Her arms and legs will have more abstract, geometrical designs, but still circular and related to floral forms, so there'll be some continuity between them.”

“That sounds like a very good plan,” Kendra agreed. “Jasmine is a specialist in geometric line work. Elbow should be a good spot, the skin won't stretch so much there.”

Moments later, Cassandra was lying on a bed, her right arm lifted out in a support as she was prepped for more tattoos. Kendra was the first to begin, drawing a freehand flower surrounding Cassandra's navel, as large as her open hand. Jasmine's more complex design was marked around Cassandra's elbow using a transfer. The nurse's head was supported by a head rest at the end of the bed and she was unable to see anything of the permanent changes which were being made to her skin.

“She's not got much of a pain threshold,” Sami said. “Her mistress doesn't want her to suffer, and elbow can be quite painful. If she needs it she can have some pain relief.”

Cassandra thanked her and said she'd try to be brave. She heard the buzz of the needle and felt a burning on her belly as Kendra started to ink her. A few minutes later she felt the sting of Jasmine's instrument, more intense and insistent. She tried focus on other things, going through academic topics that she had to study, anything to distract her from the pain, but the attentions of two tattooists simultaneously made it impossible for Cassandra to escape from the immediate sensations.

“Will I be OK to work tomorrow, Sami?” Cassandra asked, suddenly nervous about letting down Elspeth and Florentia.

“You've been granted a day off. Jennifer will cover for you.”

“I'm sure I'll be able to function, Sami. I was only a little tender last time I got tattooed.”

“Yes, but your eyes...”

Cassandra wanted to protest, to beg, but was silenced by panic and nausea. She glanced at Sami, who stood over her, but couldn't bear to look into her tattooed eyes, feeling a dread as she imagined her own beautiful eyes being similarly altered. Suddenly the pain of her tattooing seemed a welcome distraction as she awaited her fate. She tried desperately to think of a way to escape. “Did Nathalie agree to this?” she asked Sami, unable to believe that Nathalie would want her eyes disfigured.

“Of course, honey. We wouldn't do anything to you without her consent. That's not how we work in the clinic. Here's Doctor Gill now to see to you.”

Sami crossed the room to greet the eye surgeon, then the two approached Cassandra, arm in arm. Gill looked young for a surgeon, late twenties, Cassandra would have guessed, although her small stature may have made her appear younger than her real age. She wore her thick, straight hair in a sixties-inspired bob which flattered her features. She seemed vivacious and good-natured, a smile constantly playing over her features as she introduced herself. “I've been looking at your medical history, Cassandra. Never had any problems with eyes?” Cassandra confirmed her sight had never been a problem.

“I am a bit squeamish about eyes though, doctor,” she added. “If it's possible, may I have a sedative to get me through the procedure? I'm dreading it, to tell the truth.”

“Of course, dear. It's not the easiest to tolerate and a dose of benzodiazepines will make you much more compliant, so it will help both of us.”

Before the sedative was administered Cassandra had eye drops put in both eyes and immediately noticed her sight blurring. Gill reassured her that this was normal. “There's a paralytic agent too so you'll find you can't move your eyes in a few minutes. It's not a very pleasant sensation but don't worry about it. Once the procedure is complete I'll administer an antidote and in a few minutes you'll be back to normal.”

As predicted, Cassandra found her eye muscles weakening and soon she could only stare straight up. As the headrest restricted movement of her head she found her vision started to disintegrate. She felt her anxiety growing as the painful tattooing continued and she was now essentially blind. She welcomed the injection of anxiolytic that Gill administered and almost instantly felt her attentiveness slide. She was still conscious, but barely aware as Gill moved into place to transform her eyes. She felt her eyelids being drawn open, held in place with some sort of clamp. Her eye was irrigated and Gill asked her to confirm that anaesthesia had been effective. Cassandra made a slow sigh to agree.

Her right eye was first to receive treatment. Cassandra could only stare up into a bright light, occasionally occluded by the instruments which Gill wielded. The nagging pain in her elbow seemed to demand more of her attention now. Eventually she felt a prolonged irrigation and the clamps were eased free. Her right eye was taped shut as Gill focused her attentions on the left eye. She started to feel sleepy and some time after her left eye had been altered she fell asleep, despite the continuing work of the two tattooists.

When she awoke, Cassandra felt panic as she realised she couldn't see. Her thoughts were still fugged by the effects of the sedative and it took her some time to piece together the fragments of memory from the previous night. She reached up to her face and felt plastic shields taped over her eyes. The movement made her aware of a soreness in the skin around her elbow.

Feeling along the cot side on the bed, Cassandra located an alarm and pressed the button. She was reassured to hear a familiar voice respond to her call. “You're awake? How do you feel?” Jennifer asked.

“Groggy. Did everything go OK? I didn't expect I'd have my eyes covered when I woke.”

“Yes, it's just a precaution. Gill will pop in later to check your eyes, but she says it all went swimmingly. A bit surprised you had your eyes done. New tattoos too, I see.”

“I'm more than surprised, I can tell you. It was all Sami's idea, and within minutes of the idea she was making it happen.”

“Ah, Sami. She's scary, isn't she?” Jenni whispered. “You're blushing, Cass. What's going on?”

Cassandra suddenly felt shy. “Oh me and Sami... Last night...”

“Whoa! You got... 'romantic' with her? You're wilder than I thought.”

“She's really nice once you get to know her.”

“And your reward was tattooed eyes... I'm not sure I'll be asking her for a date just yet.”

“Oh God, my eyes. Am I going to look like a freak?”

Jenni admitted she had no idea what had been done to Cassandra's eyes. “We'll just have to wait. The tattoos I can see though and they look great. By the way, I did the skin bleaching for Florentia earlier. She and Elspeth are going to call in later to see what you've had done, so prepare yourself.”

Cassandra was beside herself with anxiety when Gill arrived in her room. She'd had to wait four hours with nothing to distract her from thinking about how her eyes would look.

Gill sounded bright and cheerful as she enquired how her patient had been. She eased the tape free and pulled away the patches from Cassandra's eyes. For the first time in fifteen hours she was able to open her eyelids. As she looked around the room there was a growing panic. “I can't see, everything is blurred!”

“Don't worry, that's perfectly normal. There's a little swelling from the procedure. It'll most likely right itself with twenty-four hours, but in some cases it can take up to a week. I'll prescribe some steroid drops to get the inflammation down. Everything looks good,” she enthused as she examined Cassandra's eyes closely. “You have very beautiful and striking eyes now.”

Cassandra looked at herself in a mirror, but couldn't make out any detail. She tried squinting, but since that made her eyes almost invisible it was counterproductive. “I can't really see,” she admitted sadly. “What do they look like, Jenni?”

Jenni looked closely into her friend's eyes. “Very cool actually! Your irises are bleached in the centre, almost white, blending into the natural blue at the edge. Then around the iris there's a ring of little black dots, each about two millimetres wide. It's very noticeable but not too extreme. I love it!”

“The white is a dye, rather than bleach,” Gill stated. “It absorbs onto the surface of the iris and it's pretty much permanent. Since it colours the iris itself it will expand and contract so it gives a very different effect to contacts. It suits you, Cassandra. I'm very pleased. I'm going to supply you with glasses. They should help to compensate for the swelling and let you see better. There's no point in giving you a very accurate prescription, since your vision will change rapidly as your eyes return to normal, but these should help you for today.”

Gill left the room to find a suitable set of glasses and returned within ten minutes. A heavy set of frames were placed on Cassandra's nose and she was again passed a mirror. She could see herself more clearly now, but the reflection was less like herself than ever, a bald woman with large black framed glasses which made her look older. She peered through the thick lenses to try to make out her new eyes (the presence of her nasogastric tube reminding Cassandra that even during sleep she would continue to gain weight). Her sight was still a little blurry but she could make out the tattooed dots ringing her irises, and the new paleness of her eyes. She made a little excited coo, but it was largely for Gill's sake. She was sure that without the glasses this latest modification would dominate her features. “Thank you, doctor,” she said demurely. “You've done a wonderful job.”

Not long after, Paola came to visit her protégée, and examined her new additions. “Oh, I do like those glasses. They make you look so nerdy. My little bald, chubby geek. Maybe I'll have you wear glasses more often.”

Cassandra blushed as she heard herself described in these terms. She wasn't at all comfortable with her new image, and still thought of herself as the long haired, slim, pretty girl she'd been so recently. She still found herself thanking the doctor. A compliment was, after all, a compliment.

“Nice work on the tattoos, too. The one on your elbow is very pretty, like a mandala.” The design which marked her arm was a series of repeating patterns, spiralling out from the point of her elbow, the pattern formed of tiny black dots. “It's like a contemporary take on the old spider web on the elbow. I approve. And the flower on your belly is very striking.” The abdominal tattoo was a fleshy red flower, five broad petals shaded to appear as bulging out convexly across Cassandra's stomach. “I think we should get you more heavily tattooed before Nathalie comes to visit. It'll be a nice surprise for her.”

Cassandra nodded her agreement but felt fearful of how far her transformation would go, and at the speed of change. “Now I want you to go and visit the princess and Florentia. You need to apologise for not being there for them today, although I know it wasn't your choice. Elspeth likes servile so servile she'll get. Offering to let her shave you will probably smooth over any resentments she has.”

Cassandra, now alone, had to endure a trip through the clinic to the wing of apartments where Elspeth had taken residence. She tried to reassure herself that her nakedness wasn't out of the ordinary, nor were her modifications as extreme as many of those she'd seen since her arrival. Nevertheless, she felt an urge to hide every time another person passed. The arrival at Elspeth's rooms was no consolation. She was sure that she and Florentia would delight in humiliating her. She wasn't mistaken.

Florentia opened the door and ushered her in. She immediately questioned why Cassandra was undressed.

“I'm unable to work today and so I'm not allowed my uniform. I wanted to say sorry for letting you both down. Doctor Paola insisted I apologise in person and thought I should let you see the new work I had done.”

“You look fatter out of your suit,” Florentia said, rubbing at Cassandra's belly. She wanted to tell her to stop, since the tattoo was still fresh and infection was still a risk, but decided she should endure the unwelcome attentions with good grace. “You've not gained much of a belly though, have you? It's all going on your hips, thighs, arms.”

“I'm corseted most of the time, that's most likely why,” Cassandra suggested.

“It's a shame. You can leave your corset off from now on. I want you to have a big fat belly hanging here.” She gripped the thickening layer of flesh under the new tattoo.

“Now, now,” the princess cautioned. “It's her mistress' choice. You don't get to decide Cassie's shape.”

Florentia looked hurt by the reprimand. “I didn't know you wore glasses. They look weird on you. Especially since they're all you're wearing!”

“I don't normally, but I had my eyes tattooed last night. These help me see until the inflammation settles down.”

Cassandra realised that neither of the women had noticed the changes to her eyes, disguised as they were behind the thick lenses. Florentia pulled the glasses from her face and whistled as she saw what had been done. “Wow, those are tattoos? That looks so freaky, Cassie!”

Elspeth now examined her eyes with great interest. “Who did this?” She asked. Cassandra discussed Gill and how she'd worked on Sami's eyes too.

“See, I told you Sami didn't have contact lenses,” Florentia crowed. “Who was right?”

Her attitude earned her a sharp slap across her thigh. “Enough, Florentia! You need to learn to behave like a lady. “That looks very interesting, Cassie, dear. And Sami's eyes are tattooed too?” Cassandra noticed her looking slyly at her young ward, obviously formulating a plan. Florentia seemed unaware of the plot.

“Princess, would you do me the honour of shaving me today?” Even with her temporarily weakened sight, Cassandra could see the pleasure that being addressed thus gave to Elspeth.

“Much as it would please me, I was just about to take Florentia to Sami to have her hair styled. You may accompany us and Sami can have the pleasure of shaving you.” Cassandra nodded and expressed her gratitude. She felt a throb of anticipation as she imagined seeing Sami again. Despite the terror that Sami's appearance generated, she found herself longing to be alone with her once more, even if it meant more permanent alterations to her look. She started to drift into a fantastic reverie, her concentration still impaired by the sedatives. She had to remind herself that she was in the presence of clients and brought herself back to reality.

She made her way back through the clinic, respectfully following a few paces behind Elspeth and Florentia. She noticed that Florentia's skin was now even paler, the bleach stripping the last vestiges of her tan. Her blonde curls were now loosely gathered in a ribbon at her nape, a long, thick ponytail falling over her back. The elaborate work that Sami had created was now only a memory.

They entered the salon where Sami waited. She looked pleasantly surprised to see Cassandra enter. “Can you fit in an extra customer?” the princess asked. “This little waif came to me begging for a shave but I'm so tired after last night. Take care of her.”

Sami came over to Cassandra and pulled the glasses free. She put her fingers under her chin and made her look up into her eyes. Cassandra found her gaze almost unendurable. Sami stirred a maelstrom of conflicting emotions: fear, desire, repulsion, lust, a profound desire to submit. After a long silence, Sami whispered “Get in the chair, Cass. If you're a good girl you might get rewarded once you're properly bald.”

There seemed to be something profoundly threatening about Sami's use of the word 'properly'. Cassandra was shaking as she took her place, but despite her terror, she knew that she was experiencing an arousal that she would be unable to conceal in her state of nudity.

She felt sure that Elspeth was aware of her inner state as she brought Florentia close and drew attention to the studs which pierced her labia. “See those, darling? I want you to get yours pierced too, as a part of your commitment. You'll wear rings in your pussy as part of your acknowledgement of me as your wife.”

Florentia nodded weakly. She was clearly afraid of being changed like this, but her romantic sensibility made such a submission intensely attractive. “She's glistening down there, princess. Do you think she likes Sami shaving her?”

As the blade moved over the top of her head, Cassandra felt her humiliation growing. “Well, do you?” Elspeth quizzed.

“Yes, princess,” Cassandra murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. Her interrogator stared at her expectantly, and she felt compelled to illuminate her answer. “I love the feeling of the razor on my scalp. I like to submit too, it makes me very excited.”

“Would you like to feel Florentia exploring those piercings in your sex? And to feel her fingers inside you?”

Cassandra felt her cheeks burning with shame, but still her arousal was growing. She could hardly bring herself to speak but grunted her agreement. “You'll have to do better than that. Tell Florentia what you'd like her to do.”

“Please, Miss Florentia,” Cassandra began haltingly, “would you touch my piercings and explore them so that you know what they feel like, then, if it pleases you, finger me until I cum.”

“Oh Cassie, you're so sweet,” Florentia said, in a teasing voice. “And should I be gentle with you, or would you like me to be rough?”

There was a long silence before she could reply. “I'd like you to be rough, Miss.” Cassandra felt a tear fall down her cheek as she spoke.

Florentia grasped two of the studs on opposing labia and drew them wide apart, tugging until the flesh was painfully stretched. Cassandra gasped, wanted to writhe about to help endure the pain, but didn't dare move since the razor was still pursuing its course around her scalp. Florentia relaxed the tension, only to pull even harder moments later. Cassandra panted, her face reddening as she struggled to cope with the suffering. Sami placed her hand on top of Cassandra's scalp and forced her to bow her head as her nape was stripped of the faint stubble. She could only stare at her pussy which gaped horribly as Florentia pulled once more at her piercings.

“Oil her scalp,” Elspeth commanded Sami. “I want her head to gleam.” Now that the shaving was completed, Cassandra started to move about in the chair. Sami's attentions were delicious, the sweet oil being massaged into her tingling scalp, her soft fingers caressing, the gentleness conflicting with the agony of Florentia's torture.

“Now put her glasses on.” Elspeth wanted Cassandra to see the equipment she'd placed before her on the counter. “Do you know what this is? And what it does?”

Cassandra felt her fear and humiliation reach new heights. “It's an electrolysis machine, princess,” she sobbed. “It causes permanent hair loss.”

“And you know how to use it?” Cassandra nodded. She'd been made to study how to use this specific machine as part of her training at the clinic.

Florentia gave a whoop. Her fingers slipped inside Cassandra's dripping slit and started to slowly, gently pump back and forth. “She's going to be permanently bald?”

“Start with your eyebrows, Cassandra,” the princess ordered.

“Please, princess, my mistress...” Cassandra begged.

“We're not doing anything Nathalie hasn't agreed to,” Sami said sternly.

A brightly lit mirror was moved to before Cassandra's face. “I can't see well enough... My eyes are blurry.”

“Because you're crying! Stop the tears.” Sami wiped a tissue roughly at her eyes. “Now begin.”

Cassandra lifted the wand to her brow, her glasses on the end of her nose to allow access. She pressed the tip to her skin and felt a shock. “No more eyebrows for Cassie,” Florentia teased. She tried to harden herself, determined not to fuel Florentia's cruelty.

“Keep going,” Sami urged. Cassandra moved the wand over her brow, flinching with each sting. She genuinely was struggling to see what she was doing, however, and her hand was trembling so much that she found it hard to control her movements, exacerbated by the ongoing fingering to which Florentia was subjecting her. After ten minutes Sami's patience seemed to run out.

“You're trying, but this is going to take forever! Time for me to put things right.” Cassandra's head was pushed back into the chair, her glasses removed, then she felt a rapid series of stings as Sami efficiently killed the follicles.

“This will make her bald forever?” Florentia asked curiously.

“Pretty much,” Sami replied. “There will be some regrowth when dormant follicles become active again, so she'll need a second treatment in a few months, and possibly a third a while later. But once this is done she'll never grow hair properly again.”

Cassandra saw a smile spread over Sami's pierced lips and despite all the pain found her desire to submit taking possession. She found herself welcoming the torment of the wand passing over her head, knowing that the beauty of her hair was being taken forever, knowing that she would be bald eternally.

Sami allowed her to sit up and replaced the thick glasses. She saw herself in the mirror, her brows red and sore. “That's enough for now,” Sami said, to the obvious disappointment of Elspeth and Florentia. “I'm not sure I want to deprive myself of the pleasure of shaving you just yet.” She stroked Cassandra's gleaming scalp and leant forward until their lips met. Cassandra thrust forward her tongue to explore Sami's own cleft tongue, sighing with joy at the strangeness of the sensation.

Florentia was evidently alert to Cassandra's pleasure in the kiss and immediately began to increase the violence of her stimulation, much to Cassandra's delight. She was powerless as between them Florentia and Sami brought her to a passionate climax.

“What a slut!” Florentia announced. “Look at the mess you've made, and I have to sit in this chair now.”

“Yes, get on your hands and knees and lick it clean,” Elspeth ordered. Cassie obeyed without delay. This was just one more humiliation, a minor one compared to many that she'd endured on this day.

Once the chair had been licked, Cassandra was obliged to use a cleaning spray to make sure it was clean enough for her patient. Nonetheless, Elspeth made her lover strip naked before she was allowed to sit for Sami.

“Sami, Cassandra, I want Florentia to start to appreciate the delights of bondage so we'll apply full restraints today.” Within minutes, the young girl was bound into the chair by straps around her waist, chest, wrists, elbows, thighs and ankles. She smiled happily at her mistress, seemingly unaware that her vulnerability was about to be ruthlessly exploited.

“Can you do another nice style like yesterday, Sami? It did look pretty, even though the shaved forehead is a bit nasty.”

“Shave her. Shave it all off,” Elspeth stated coldly. “No more mollycoddling, Florentia. It's time to get on with your metamorphosis.”

Florentia struggled against the bonds, cursed, begged, cried, threatened, offered bribes, but to no avail. As Sami prepared the clippers she wailed and begged Elspeth a last time. “Not my hair, please Princess Elspeth. You can do anything to me if you let me keep my hair.”

The offer amused the princess. “It's very kind of you to offer, but you seem to misunderstand. I can do anything to you regardless of letting you keep your hair or not. Taking your hair from you may help you to understand just how submissive I expect you to be. Now settle down and show me you can be mature. If you do I might just decide not to punish later you for acting out.”

Despite the warnings, Florentia sobbed constantly. Sami put the unshielded blades to the girl's forehead and ploughed them back through the soft blonde curls. Cassandra felt no pleasure in watching, despite Florentia's sustained cruelty toward her. Schadenfreude was ultimately a destructive pleasure, Cassandra was sure, and as the top of Florentia's head was reduced to a fine stubble the nurse felt sympathy for the girl. She was naïve, immature, unprepared for what was being done to her. Cassandra determined that she would support her, try to help her to deal with her new life, try to help her to grow. She stroked Florentia's arm and reassured her that she'd look just fine without hair.

For a moment, anger flared in her eyes, and she looked like she would have attacked Cassandra if it weren't for the restraints. Then something seemed to melt inside her and she sobbed like a baby. “I don't want to be bald!” she wailed piteously.

Sami was less sympathetic. “Head down!” she barked. “What you want is unimportant. Obedience to your mistress is all that matters now.”

The blades were lifted through the long hair which covered Florentia's neck and shoulders, pass after pass denuding the back of her head completely. Now the thick hair reaching down from the sides was all that remained. It looked comical, Cassandra thought, like enormous spaniel ears. Despite the tension, Cassandra felt an urge to laugh and had to look away to control herself.

The spaniel ears weren't allowed to remain in place for long, as Sami sheared away every hair with an efficiency which was in equal parts admirable and terrifying. Florentia peered at herself in the mirror, her eyes red with sobbing. She looked tiny without hair, and Cassandra had to remind herself that this was the same girl she'd met a few days previously. She had altered beyond recognition.

“I'll not forgive you until my hair grows back,” she spat at Elspeth with menace.

The princess laughed at this outburst. “Oh, Florentia, that could be a long time. But there's nothing to forgive, is there? You'll learn to love what you're becoming, just as you'll learn that your greatest pleasure in life is in obedience and submission. Just look at how happy Cassie was to be shaved and to lose her brows forever. I'm sure she once loved her hair as much as you.”

Florentia looked broken as Sami stared into her eyes. “Are you going to shave me now... Miss Sami?” She was clearly very intimidated by the hairdresser.

“Do you want to tell her?” Sami asked the princess.

“I'm afraid you're never going to experience a full shave. Sami and Cassandra are going to use electrolysis on you. You're never going to grow hair again.”

Anticipating her protests, Elspeth forced a ball gag into Florentia's mouth and fixed it in place by fastening a strap across her newly shorn nape. “OK, Sami, do it.”

Sami took the electrolysis wand and began to apply it to Florentia, beginning at the front of her head, where the shave the previous day had left the hair even shorter than the freshly clippered areas. Muffled sobs came from the girl as she tried to adjust to her new baldness becoming permanent. After a few minutes Sami looked crossly at Cassandra. “Well, aren't you going to help. There's a lot of follicles to treat. There's a second electrolysis kit in the cupboard under the counter.”

Cassandra was soon working on Florentia's head, working forward from her crown on Sami's instructions. She was relieved that she was behind Florentia, and wouldn't have to see the sadness in her eyes. She could empathise only too well with what the girl was feeling, having been sure that she was going to be made permanently bald. She still felt a dread that very soon she might receive the same treatment as Florentia.

Sami worked back and Cassandra worked forward, until eventually the entire top of the girl's head had been treated (Sami, more experienced, had covered almost twice as large an area). Florentia, now calmer, looked pleadingly at her mistress, who, taking some pity, allowed the gag to be removed. “Please princess, it really hurts. Can we leave it at that for today?”

Her entire demeanour had changed. She was now exhausted, broken. Elspeth gave Sami a questioning look. “It is quite painful, it's true. If she thinks that she can make you change your mind by procrastinating, well that's not going to happen, is it? Even if we did stop now, she'd look like she has very bad male pattern baldness. You want it all gone, forever, don't you honey?” Sami looked at Florentia and stroked her irritated scalp.

“Yes Miss Sami,” she replied with a look which Cassandra found unbearably poignant.

“Very well, just shave the back and sides nice and smooth,” Elspeth instructed. “It's still early though, Florentia. If you're not going to get your hair removed then you can go and see the dentist.”

Sami slapped a thick coating of white foam over Florentia's head, covering the pale stubble from the clippershave, as well as the red and irritated dome of her cranium where the electrolysis had been conducted. She made to cover the girl's eyebrows but Elspeth checked her hand.

“No, those can go permanently today. She seemed to find it amusing when Cass lost hers so she can share the joke. And you can do the honours, Cassandra.” As the razor slipped around her scalp, softly shaving the stubble, Cassandra awkwardly began treating Florentia's brows. She tried to concentrate on the task and avoided looking into the girl's eyes, sure that it would make her cry. Her eyesight was still weak, however, and she struggled to see where the brows actually grew. There was hardly any growth of the fine hairs and what there was had been bleached. She worked the same areas over a few times but admitted to Sami that the task was beyond her.

Florentia was now fully bald for the first time in her life. Cassandra marvelled to see that her scalp was barely paler than her face, which only a few days previously had been tanned. The bleaching had been extremely effective. Sami took the electrolysis wand from Cassandra and set to the task with her customary efficiency. Florentia adopted a pained expression as the stinging reminded her that another permanent change was being wrought on her. “Eyelashes too,” Elspeth commanded.

“I can't do those with this machine,” Sami advised. “What if I just pluck them for now and we make it permanent in a day or two?” Elspeth accepted this compromise.

Once Florentia's brows had been consigned to history Sami took tweezers and plucked out the long lash hairs one by one.

“Does it hurt, darling?” Elspeth asked, showing some warmth toward her lover for the first time in hours.

“Not as much as I thought.” Despite her statement, tears were in the girl's eyes. She was finally freed from her bonds and allowed to stand. She regarded herself in the mirror, a melancholy there for all to see. She looked lost, pained to see what she had become. Cassandra thought the change unflattering: her hairlessness cruelly exposed her features, which appeared rather heavy and commonplace without brows and without the soft frame of curls. Nonetheless, Elspeth was clearly delighted, and embraced her girl. “My little Florentia, look at you. Within a couple of days your entire body will be treated so that you'll never sprout another hair. You've no idea how it excites me to see you as you are.”

She bowed her head and started to kiss Florentia's neck, letting the sharpened fangs play over the delicate skin.

“But now that I've bitten you, you've become a vampire, too, darling. And that means your teeth need to change so that you can feed yourself.” Florentia blinked her big eyes. Cassandra could see an appeal for mercy which the girl dared not voice. Elspeth was devoid of compassion; the power she now yielded was intoxicating. “Say you want it. Say you need to feel yourself change, that together we will be immortal vampires.”

She turned Florentia so that she faced the mirror, still in Elspeth's arms, their faces cheek to cheek. The princess bared her long fangs in her well practised snarl. “My teeth...” Florentia murmured.

“Fangs like an animal's,” Elspeth whispered excitedly, turning her lips to meet her lover's in a rapturous kiss. She ran her hand up Florentia's shaved nape and let her fingers hook over the top of her head, raking the points of the sharp nails over the tender flesh. Her eyes were fiery as she glanced up at Sami and Cassandra. “Leave us!” she croaked.

“Yes, princess,” Sami replied, and ushered Cassandra out of the treatment room toward her own apartment.

When they were alone together Sami started to caress Cassandra's head, making her moan with pleasure. After enjoying the sensation for a few minutes, she asked fearfully: “Am I really going to lose my hair permanently?”

“That's for Nathalie to decide. You just obey her wishes and enjoy the consequences. Don't you?”

“Yes Sami,” Cassandra whispered breathily. She felt desire burgeoning. Sami leaned in to kiss the upper margins of her eye sockets, where the tenderness reminded her that no hair would ever sprout again. She thought back to the shock of losing her brows for the first time, the oddness of her look when deprived of them and shivered as she tried to accept that she'd never have eyebrows again. Sami stared into her eyes and she had to force herself to meet her strange lover's gaze.

“Nathalie wants you to have bigger rings. Or at least she accepted my idea as being a good one. Let's start stretching you now.” Cassandra's hesitant agreement was silenced by a finger on her lips. She merely nodded to show her acquiescence. Sami led her to a bed and shackled her wrists to a lug in the wall above her head. Her vulnerability increased as Sami fastened leather cuffs on her ankles, fixing them to straps at the bottom corners of the bed.

Sami started to tug at Cassandra's labial rings. “I'm going to make your little pussy my project. By the time Nathalie arrives she won't recognise you or your pussy. You'll be fat and bald, lots of tattoos, and this...” She roughly disengaged a ring from Cassandra's right labium, making her cry out. The pain continued as she forced a thick, blunt-tipped needle into the hole, stretching it agonisingly. “Does that feel good, honey? I'm going to make you sting a lot. We don't have much time because we'll have to go and help with Florentia before long. But I can do a lot very quickly. Even if you were dressed everyone would be able to tell you'd had something done because of the way you'll walk. But of course, you'll be naked all day, which is even better.”

The reminder of her forced exhibitionism made Cassandra moan with embarrassment. One by one, Sami removed the rings which adorned her sex and stretched the holes with identical thick needles, which Cassandra could see jutting out from her mound like lances. They appeared to be around a quarter inch thick, which was roughly twice the girth of the rings which Cassandra had worn. “It seems a shame that you only have two rings in your inner lips,” Sami said. “We need to create more flesh down there to give some room for another couple of rings in each, don't we?” As she spoke, she started to replace the needles with rings. Cassandra was immediately aware of the great weight of her new piercings: each ring was an inch in diameter, a quarter inch thick, closed with a spherical bead. There was a lot more metal than in the jewellery she'd previously worn and she could feel gravity tugging at her flesh. By the time each hole had been filled, a dozen heavy rings dangled from Cassandra's labia, painfully stretching the openings.

Sami smiled at her sadistically. “The best is yet to come. And there's nothing you can do to stop me, even if you wanted to. Which of course you don't, because you're a masochistic little slut who would do anything for Sami.” Cassandra's pussy was swabbed thoroughly and roughly, causing each stretched wound to sing with a new agony. Sami scrubbed her hands, then theatrically adorned herself with surgical gloves. “I wonder if you know what comes next. I wonder if this is something you've dreamed about.”

She hooked a litre bag of saline onto a stand and attached a cannula to the end of a line. She started to wave the needle around Cassandra's mound, ever closer to her skin. Cassandra found herself anticipating the prick and found herself twitching involuntarily with fear. Sami's delight increased at the visible reaction she was producing. “I shot an arrow in the air, it came to rest precisely... there!” She jabbed the needle deeply into Cassandra's flesh immediately above her clitoris, burying the short needle completely in her skin. The younger woman screamed loudly: although she'd experienced greater pain, the injury was accompanied by a sense of release. “We'll just put a little saline into here,” Sami said in a soothing voice. “It might get a bit swollen and sore, but you can take that, can't you, Cassie?” She opened the valve on the cannula and the liquid began to flow into the tissues. Almost immediately Cassandra could feel her flesh distending, the cool saline causing a nagging pain as it bathed the tissues.

Sami's impatience made her want to speed the process and she repeatedly squeezed the bag to force the saline into Cassandra under pressure. The greater flow resulted in more intense pain. When Cassandra glanced down she could see her clitoris had grotesquely enlarged, forming a tumescent nub now, red and shiny. Sami smiled as she observed Cassandra's reaction, stroking her head. “Soon it'll be bigger than that permanently, baby. Isn't that wonderful?” Cassandra's face showed that she didn't agree.

“Oh, you're so ungrateful,” Sami snapped. “It looks so...” She leaned down and started to stroke her puffy clitoris with her gloved fingers, then bent down and let her split tongue squeeze at it, the twin tips pressing into Cassandra's flesh with surprising force. Every movement caused pain, especially since the needle was still rooted deeply into her mound, yet the feeling was astonishing and Cassandra couldn't disguise her delight, mewing like a kitten as she experienced a fresh ecstasy. “There we are, that's better,” Sami smiled. “You do want it like this forever, don't you, baby?” She let her sharpened teeth play at the tender protuberance, then delighted Cassandra again with her tongue, depriving her momentarily of the power of speech.

By the time Cassandra rose from the bed, not only had her clitoris expanded to even greater dimensions, but her inner labia had also been subjected to saline injections, making them pucker monstrously, the huge new rings buried in the swollen fleshy folds. Every movement produced clicks as the rings swung and collided. Cassandra's face reddened with humiliation as she examined herself in a large mirror.

Sami stood behind her, kissing her bald pate. “If we regularly inject into your pussy it will stretch permanently. And you know what? We will inject it regularly. Because you desire it more than Nathalie does, more than I do. I'm right aren't I?” Cassandra sighed and nodded. Sami made her feel so confused that she no longer knew what she desired, only knew that no matter what was done to her she ended up experiencing a flood of such intense emotions that she couldn't resist this woman.

“Time we caught up on your little project, isn't it?”

A few minutes later they were in the dental surgery where Erin had been busy with Florentia. The young woman was fully restrained in the chair as the hooded, latex-clad figure leaned over her. “Who's this then?” she asked as Cassandra entered. “Oh, it's you. I think you've been putting those pretty new teeth to a bit too much use. You're getting so fat! I barely recognised you.”

Sami was clearly delighted by Erin's humiliating comments, and joined in with her own demeaning remarks. “You know, even her pussy got fat! Look at how those labia are bulging.” Elspeth had come over to enjoy Cassandra's humbling and whooped with delight as she took in the new modifications.

“Saline injections?” she asked. She couldn't restrain herself from stroking the swollen folds and pulling at the heavy rings. “It looks wonderful, Sami. You must show me how to do it. I'd love to try it on Florentia.”

Sami promised that she would. “And how is the patient?” she asked.

“Oh, do come see! Erin is so brilliant. She'll have her new teeth within the hour.”

The new arrivals went over to see Florentia who looked utterly broken. Her limbs were immobilised and a strap fixed her hairless head to the chair. Her mouth was jacked open by a lip retractor, which exposed her teeth. Her canines, upper and lower, had been filed away, almost to the gum line, and fitted with posts. Even more shocking for Cassandra, her central upper incisors had been treated in the same way. Her even, regular teeth had been destroyed. She looked up pleadingly at Elspeth but her mistress seemed ignorant of the girl's discomfort.

Erin addressed the princess. “Are you sure you want those extractions?”

“I am, dear. They will help with fitting a bit. I think it's a lovely idea.”

Cassandra watched with fascinated horror as Erin gripped the first premolar, immediately behind the destroyed upper left canine, with forceps. She pulled and twisted and there was a grotesque crunching sound. Florentia groaned softly. The anaesthetic dulled the physical pain but did nothing to reduce the emotional wrench. A bloody tooth clinked as it fell into a glass jar. A few minutes later another empty socket was present on the other side of Florentia's mouth.

Elspeth lifted the jar to look at the teeth. “They're such beautiful things, my sweetheart. I'm going to have them made into earrings.”

Erin complimented her on her idea. “You want me to go ahead with the lower extractions too? There are bits which could be fitted with just these upper teeth missing.”

Elspeth seemed distracted by imagining her new earrings. “What..? Oh, sure. Go ahead, it will look nice.”

Florentia screwed up her eyes as she heard more of her teeth being condemned by her cruel mistress. Cassandra knew she was the only one present who empathised with her suffering. Erin efficiently pulled another two teeth and soon there were two more empty sockets gracing Florentia's lower jaw. A nurse, rendered anonymous by a featureless hood and mask, attended to staunching the flow of blood from the wounds.

Soon, Erin was fitting Florentia with her new teeth, the long, tapered, ivory crowns being cemented in place to replace her natural canines, and fang-like teeth being added in the centre of her upper jaw. Cassandra found the teeth ugly and intimidating, and knew that Florentia would be horrified to see what she had become. Predictably, Elspeth and Sami loved Erin's work. The princess expressed her delight.

“Oh, she's finally becoming the vampire lover I dreamed of. How can I ever thank you, Erin? She's just so perfect... Well not quite, I still want her face to be altered... Can she bite me?”

Erin tried to dampen her enthusiasm. “Let the teeth settle for a day, princess, the cement needs to firm up. You need to be careful about bites though, there is a high risk of infection.”

“Oh Erin, you're such a killjoy! It'll just be a little scratch. I have no intention of letting her bite me on a regular basis.”

Erin restored Elspeth's faith in her by providing her with antiseptic wipes to treat the wounds after the bite and a jar of topical anaesthetic cream. “This will make the bite almost painless. Just leave it on for about forty minutes before and it'll make you pretty numb. I know how important this ceremony is and I want to make sure it's as pleasurable and safe as possible.”

Florentia had been released from her bondage and rose shakily from the chair. Cassandra took her hand and helped steady her as her tongue nervously darted around her unfamiliar new teeth. Her tongue was clearly still numbed as she seemed unable to grasp the details of what had been done to her. It was Elspeth who provided a mirror to enable her to see herself.

There was an evident shock as Florentia took in her unfamiliar bald head. She looked pained as she slowly pulled back her lips to view her radically transformed teeth and gasped as she saw the spine-like new crowns. “You're really becoming Florentia now,” Elspeth whispered ecstatically. “You've endured a lot today and I think you deserve a few days off before we make the final alterations. Although you still need to complete the electrolysis... That's what we'll do then: until the beginning of next week you'll just have electrolysis sessions and the rest of the day we can spend together enjoying our holiday.”

Florentia mumbled to her mistress to express her gratitude, but she sounded as emotionally numb as the anaesthetic had rendered her mouth. Cassandra remembered her difficulties in adjustment when her transformation had begun, but Nathalie had been nothing like as cruel as Elspeth.

“I suppose if we're taking a break that will mean less work for you too, Cassandra,” the princess added. “You and Sami can work on the electrolysis each morning until it's completed. But I'd like to see you proceed with your tattoos, Cassandra. I want to see plenty of new ink on you by the time we start on our surgery. Can you see to it that my wishes are met, Sami.”

Sami looked dreamily at Cassandra's body and nodded. “I think that's a very good plan. She's filling out nicely and I think she's ready to become heavily tattooed. Aren't you, my honey?”

Cassandra was unable to control the fear of more permanent changes being added to her skin and felt shaky as she realised that her fate was already sealed. She remembered her last tattooing session on the previous day when she'd been at the mercies of two tattooists simultaneously. She was aware that in a few days they could transform her completely. She felt a rising panic and tried to delay her tattooing.

“But you said I'd have to gain more weight and it could stretch the tattoos. Wouldn't it make more sense to wait?”

Sami smiled reassuringly. “Good news there. Nathalie has decided she doesn't want you much bigger than you already are. I think she'd underestimated how fast you could gain weight, so there's nothing to stop you getting more tattoos. We're going to let every tattooist on the island work on you during the next few days.”

“What's the matter?” Sami said drowsily. She rubbed at her eyes to bring herself to wakefulness and sat up to put her arm around the sobbing Cassandra. “Are you in pain?”

“No... no...” She was so upset that she could barely get her words out. “A dream... bad dream.”

Sami held her in her arms and let her tears flow until she'd regained some emotional equilibrium. At last she asked what it was that had upset her.

“I was in a little town in Spain and I went to a market, it was packed with hundreds of people. Then suddenly Nathalie was in front of me. She looked straight at me but didn't recognise me. Ilione was with her too, and Nicole but all of them looked at me without recognition. And I was so shocked I couldn't get out any words. Then they started to disappear into the crowd and I was chasing after them, but all the time I was getting trapped by the people in the little alleys. And I was calling out but there was a brass band playing and they couldn't hear me, and I knew if I didn't catch them up I'd never see them again. But I couldn't reach them and they were lost. Oh, Sami, I miss Nathalie so much!” She struggled to free herself from Sami's embrace. “And I feel guilty about getting so close to you,” she added, looking shame-faced.

“Don't give in to guilt. Nathalie has never expected you to stay faithful to her in any conventional way, as well you know. She encouraged me to take care of you and is aware of everything that's happened between us.

“And it's natural that you miss her. You've been apart for a long time, and that must be awful. But she'll be coming a bit sooner than she'd originally said, so in a couple of weeks you'll be reunited with all your friends. I do wonder if she'll recognise you though...”

Sami caressed her right arm which still tingled from the recent tattooing it had endured. It had been decided that Jasmine, with her expertise in geometric forms, would be given free rein over Cassandra's limbs and over the previous days she'd worked hard on transforming the right arm that she'd previously decorated with a mandala around the elbow. Now the entire arm was densely patterned in precisely drawn mathematical patterns. Only hours before, the back of Cassandra's hand had been tattooed with tessellated patterns, hand poked, the design formed from thousands of tiny black dots. It merged with the other patterns at her wrist, and now the design flowed up to reach her shoulder.

Nor had her torso escaped being inked, and now her back, chest and breasts had been adorned with new flowers, inflicted on her by four different tattooists, including Gill, who was keen to explore her art as a tattooist on skin and not just eyes. She'd adorned Cassandra's back with a diagonal row of half a dozen cherry blossoms, the largest six inches in diameter. The design was simple but beautifully realised.

Sami kissed Cassandra's soft cheek. “Nathalie will love what you've become, believe me! She won't walk away from you. When I knew her, I thought she'd never settle down, but you've won her heart. She's absolutely in love with you and I know she's been missing you every bit as much as you've missed her. Now try to get some sleep. You're going to be assisting with Elspeth's surgery today, and I know how much you're going to enjoy seeing her suffering.”

Cassandra giggled as she imagined having some control over the princess. “You say that, but can you imagine what she's going to be like when she's recovering? She'll be the worst patient ever. I bet she whinges about every pain and wants to be waited on every minute of the day.”

Elspeth's entry into the surgery was theatrical. She was dressed in a red silk gown, her bob sleek and perfect. Behind her, leashed, came Florentia. Her slave had been rendered permanently hairless during the last week, every hair on her body destroyed by electrolysis. Elspeth had insisted on leaving her eyelashes till last, but Sami had burnt away the follicles on the previous morning.

Florentia was now bound as a punishment for some imagined slight. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, elbows and wrists tied with a rough cord. Her pale, bald head was contained in a harness, part of which formed a bit, fitted harshly into the gaps where her teeth had been removed. Retractors fanned out from the ends of the bit, opening her lips to expose the new fangs.

A cervical corset restrained Florentia's neck, forcing her head back as far as possible. This was attached to a wheeled tripod which lay under the girl's shoulders and was fixed to her body by rings which passed through her pierced nipples. Awkwardly, she shuffled along on her knees, struggling to keep up with her mistress.

“Doesn't she look delightful?” Elspeth laughed. “She's finding out about what happens when she's naughty! Once I'm in the theatre she's to stay here for another hour. Then she can make her own way back to our apartment where someone is to free her.” Assurances were given that the princess's orders would be followed.

Elspeth's vanity was clearly offended as she was stripped of her make-up, then her beautiful hair was concealed under a surgical cap. She bore this imposition silently but with ill grace. Paola would take charge of her surgery and oversaw the work of the anaesthetist. Soon she fell into a deep slumber and Paola mobilised her team to complete the surgeries as speedily and efficiently as possible. As Paola started to snip away at her face, another surgeon took charge of her abdominal surgery. She would wake with her breasts enhanced, her abdomen and buttocks tightened. As for her face, Paola was making a series of tucks and lifts to smooth the effects that age had wrought on her features. She'd persuaded Elspeth that a conservative approach would be most effective, that a woman as well preserved as her (she knew that the princess loved flattery) shouldn't risk having a face that revealed the work of the surgeon.

The most radical intervention was rhinoplasty. Elspeth's nose was by no means unattractive, but it was quite pointed and, if one was being minutely critical, slightly asymmetrical. It appeared that for many years she'd harboured a dissatisfaction with the nose nature had provided for her and finally she would have the opportunity to redeem the central feature of her face. Cassandra winced as the bone was reduced by a chisel: it was the first time she'd observed this procedure so closely and she was shocked to see how much effort was required to render such minute changes. Paola was a true professional, however, and shaved away the bone with the skill of a sculptor. There were more delicate activities used to reshape the cartilage, ensuring that Paola would provide an ideal nose for her patient. By the time the wounds had been sutured, Cassandra could see that a lot of swelling was already present across Elspeth's face.

The last touches were being completed on her body as Paola addressed Cassandra. “You can go and take care of Florentia. It's time she went back to her apartment and you untied her. She's nil by mouth, remember. She's in here this afternoon. Try to keep her calm and relaxed.”

Cassandra stripped out of her scrubs and washed her hands thoroughly. Her right hand seemed alien as she watched it, forever blackened by strange patterns. She found herself staring at this weird appendage, fascinated by the way it responded to her will. Finally, she recovered her self-awareness and made her way through to the anteroom where Florentia still knelt, supported by the tripod.

“Everything has gone fine, they're just finishing off in there. It's time for you to go back to your apartment.” Florentia tried to say something, but the bit made her speech unintelligible. Cassandra picked up her leash and smiled reassuringly. “Once you're back in your suite I'll free you and you can talk.” She led Florentia toward the door.

Movement was agonisingly slow and difficult for the young woman. She was obviously in some discomfort from the restrictive bondage and her knees ached from having to support her weight for so long. She made her way along lengthy corridors, her appearance a source of amusement and fascination for all who passed. She was clearly displeased by the attention.

Cassandra was relieved to finally arrive at the apartment which would provide some temporary sanctuary for her patient. She immediately removed the ropes from Florentia's arms, making her moan with relief. She then tried to extricate her breasts from the tripod, but realised that the rings were soldered to the frame. She eased the rings from the wounds in the girl's nipples, which had been recently pierced and looked sore and swollen. Florentia wailed at every move. Finally she was freed from the tripod and knelt upright for the first time in hours, rubbing at her back vigorously.

Cassandra removed the collar and the harness which had surrounded Florentia's head. She massaged her neck and worked her jaw.

“Thank you, Cassie. I'm aching everywhere,” she slurred.

“We need to put rings back into your nipples. It wouldn't be good if they started to close up.”

Florentia directed Cassandra to a cupboard where Elspeth kept the jewellery for her piercings. The younger woman hissed with displeasure as Cassandra eased the titanium rings into the unhealed wounds. “Oh, that stings,” she sighed. Despite the pain she didn't resist.

Florentia seemed fascinated by the large rings which now hung from her nipples. “Cassie, why aren't yours pierced? You have such big nipples now.” She reached out and gently caressed the protrusions, inducing a shiver in her nurse.

“They will be soon. I've been getting saline injections and pumping to prepare them for some big piercings.”

“You poor thing. That must feel horrible...” Florentia looked into Cassandra's eyes with tenderness and sympathy. Her transformation seemed to have made her feel closer to those who had experienced something similar and her attachment to Cassandra was becoming closer, sororal. Cassandra, for her part, felt an affection for her patient, delighted to hear her expressing empathy for another. Her ordeal had made her grow and mature.

“I think we're both in that weird position where we hate the things that are done to us but crave them and delight in them despite ourselves. That's why we haven't got a hair between us.”

Florentia flushed. “I can't get used to being bald,” she whispered. “And knowing it's forever...” She nervously reached out to stroke Cassandra's scalp. “You can pull off bald so much better than me. I'm sorry I was so mean to you when I arrived. It's only as I've got to know you that I can see how beautiful you really are.” She leaned forward and kissed her nurse, a long, gentle meeting of their lips.

Cassandra smiled at Florentia. Their kiss seemed chaste, free of eroticism, but it cemented their new sisterly relationship. Florentia suddenly looked distracted. After a pause she asked: “What's going to be done to me today?”

“You know I can't answer that. The princess has given clear instructions that your metamorphosis is to be a surprise for you. Just be strong. You'll be having a fair bit of surgery and you'll be very sore. The healing process will take a few weeks. You need to be patient and rest.”

“Just wish I could get it done now. The waiting is awful.” She licked nervously at her new pointed teeth, a mannerism she'd acquired since her dental transformation.

Cassandra agreed to call to see if the medical staff were ready to receive her. Thirty minutes later Florentia succumbed to the anaesthetic and immediately Paola set to work. Cassandra watched with fascination as her eyes were carefully reshaped. It was the first of many minor procedures, with every aspect of the girl's face being altered, mostly fairly subtly, but, like Elspeth, Florentia was subjected to a rhinoplasty. The trauma caused a lot of swelling and Cassandra found it impossible to assess how Florentia would look.

As Paola was coming to the end of her work, a familiar figure entered the theatre. Cassandra took a moment to recognise the eyes visible above the surgical mask. It was Gill, the eye surgeon, and she looked intently into Cassandra's eyes, evidently pleased with how her work had turned out. Now she would use her skills to alter Florentia's eyes.

Cassandra watched with a horrified fascination as ultra fine needles were used to inject pigment into the iris. The girl's eyes lost colour, becoming paler and paler, almost white. A darker ring was allowed to remain around the perimeter of the iris.

Gill was now provided with a tattooing machine and started to add a greyish pigment to Florentia's lashless eyelids. Then a bluish taint was tattooed across her lips, the effect of the tattoos being not to simulate make-up but rather to give an unhealthy aspect to her visage.

Cassandra found herself becoming emotional as Florentia's ample breasts were radically reduced, large amounts of tissue being excised. Her areolae were reduced too and now her breasts looked immature, her figure androgynous.

Cassandra spent the night in Sami's bed once more. She kept discussing Florentia's latest transformation, disturbed by the impact it would have on the patient she now felt more than sympathy for. “She's not allowed to see her face until everything has healed. How do you think she'll look? I'm not sure whether the changes will make her prettier or if Elspeth's plan is to make her ugly. I mean, those teeth... They're ugly aren't they?” Sami endured Cassandra's talking with a weary patience.

“You'll see soon enough. Don't get too emotionally involved. You've been a nurse long enough to know that. In a few weeks Florentia will be gone and you'll most likely never see her again.”

Cassandra nodded. “I know you're right, but I've seen a nice side to her. She's grown so much since she arrived here. I just wish she was with someone more humane than Elspeth. We even kissed today.” Sami couldn't hide her disapproval. “It wasn't anything big, just a sweet moment where we felt close, but like sisters, nothing more.”

“You kissed Florentia? I should tell Paola and Elspeth and let them decide your punishment.” Cassandra felt a rising panic. She hadn't considered the kiss to be a transgression but now realised that it could result in a lot of trouble for both parties.

“Please Sami, don't. Florentia would be treated horribly if you told Elspeth. And she did nothing wrong, I swear. Punish me if you need to but I beg you not to tell anyone.”

Sami needed no further encouragement, and her punishment was swift. Ten minutes later Cassandra was staring into a mirror at her grossly swollen lips, still stinging from the injections of saline which Sami had administered. “Oh God, it looks horrible,” she muttered, having trouble articulating her words. Sami laughed cruelly.

“It looks so sexy, but I think even bigger would suit you. Pucker up, sweetie!”

Cassandra obeyed the order and was rewarded with a glass tube, about three centimetres in diameter, being pressed over the centre of her lips. Sami turned on a vacuum pump and the air was sucked out. As the tissues were drawn into the tube Cassandra felt a throbbing pain and moaned.

“You'll look so slutty with your big fat blubber lips. We can make them as big as this permanently. I'm sure Nathalie will approve.”

Sami was so pleased with the effect of the vacuum pumping that she decided to add more tubes, and soon Cassandra's nipples were drawn deeply into glass tubes. Then the heavy rings were taken from Cassandra's labia and replaced with studded bars. A glass cup was placed over her mound and the pump made it fill with tumescent tissue.

“You're progressing very nicely,” Sami smiled, stroking her lover's shaven head. “You've got plenty of flesh now and I think very soon it'll be time to add some new piercings. You want that, don't you?”

Cassandra's excitement was peaking, despite the pain. She nodded willingly, eager to please Sami.

Sami took hold of the lip tube and started to tug at it to increase Cassandra's suffering. At last the seal was broken and it came free. A mirror was still in front of the young nurse and she gazed in horror at her ludicrously swollen lips. Sami crudely smeared them with a bright red lipstick so that they appeared even more prominent, a huge wound-like maw which dominated her face.

Cassandra was close to tears. “How long will they stay like this?” she mumbled.

“It'll take a few days for them to go down. Of course we could inject filler and make them stay like this...” She bent forward and roughly kissed Cassandra. The traumatised flesh transmitted only pain, and Cassandra made a high pitched moan. Sami probed and nibbled at her lips to increase the misery.

When Sami moved back, Cassandra could see that the lipstick had smeared all over her face. She looked pleadingly at Sami and begged her not to make her lips this big forever.

“Well that depends on how well you take your punishment.” Cassandra looked puzzled. “You didn't think this was your punishment, did you? This is pleasure, sweetie. But these...” She held up four needles, each three inches long. “Maybe these will make you remember that a kiss is important and not to be given without thought.”

Cassandra tilted her head back as Sami introduced the first needle, sliding it into the upper margin of the top lip so that it passed vertically through the distended flesh, then forced it through the lower lip until the tip appeared just above Cassandra's chin. She tried to bear the acute pain but felt tears rolling down her cheeks. The second, third and fourth needles were added, forming a fan shape through Cassandra's lips. She ground her teeth together to try get used to the intensity of pain.

Sami looked at her adoringly. “That looks so cute! I think we should mark your bravery with something permanent to remember tonight by. I'm going to add a little piercing.”

Cassandra sat obediently as Sami marked her inner nostrils so that the new piercing would be placed correctly. “I think it's very remiss of Nathalie to allow you to go around without this piercing.” She raised a thick piercing needle and lined it up with the mark she'd made. She let the tip press against the sensitive flesh, making Cassandra wince. The stinging made her eyes water and she felt like she was going to sneeze. Without warning Sami increased the pressure dramatically and the implement passed through the cartilage. There was an audible pop as it penetrated the tough tissue and the sound nauseated Cassandra who couldn't suppress a groan. The pain seemed to arrive late, only peaking a few seconds later. The squeal she gave was muted by the gag her pinned lips now formed.

The process of replacing the needle with a ring was painful but Cassandra bore it stoically. She felt the new ring dangling against the plastic tips of the needles which penetrated her lips. “A good slave should have a nice big ring in her septum. Now you can be easily led like a good little pig.” She delicately tweaked the ring, tugging at the wound, making Cassandra wail and push her head forward to relieve the strain.

Cassandra looked in the mirror and saw that she had been provided with a large ring, three millimetres thick, a little over a half inch in diameter. A large bead closed the ring and touched the middle of her upper lip. “We'll stretch the hole once it's healed. Obviously you'd benefit from a much bigger ring.” Cassandra nodded, hypnotised by her reflection. “Now I think you should get those needles out, don't you?”

Cassandra's relief was short lived as Sami informed her that she'd have to remove them herself. Every movement of a needle caused an intense pain which made Cassandra yelp. It took her ten minutes to remove all four, but it felt much longer. Sami looked unimpressed. “You're a nurse, and yet you struggled with such a little procedure. What am I going to do with you?”

“Urghhh, it really hurts,” Cassandra replied. “I've never claimed to be able to tolerate pain well, and Nathalie accepts that.” Sami remained silent, turned off the vacuum pumps and violently freed the tubes from her lover's distended nipples. The sensation was agonising.

“Nathalie may have accepted it when you were a naïve little girl but you're not that any more. You're fat, bald, tattooed and pierced. Look at yourself! You're a sub now forever. You're never going to go back to a vanilla life.”

Sami's directness was upsetting for Cassandra to hear, yet her humiliation made her feel a growing excitement inside. “You like it when I say that, don't you?” A shame-faced Cassandra nodded. “Tomorrow I'm going to start electrolysis on your scalp. I've seen the sour look every time you're shaved, how you long to grow hair again. Well, I'm going to deprive you of that option.”

Cassandra felt tears rising and started to protest, but her begging was occluded by Sami pulling the cup from her pussy. She fell between Cassandra's thighs and started to lick at the tumid lips. Just when Cassandra was delirious with pleasure, she felt a bite from Sami's sharpened teeth on her swollen clitoris. As the shock passed through her body she started to feel an orgasm growing slowly. “Tell me you regret nothing, Cassie. Tell me you abandon yourself to me entirely, to losing every hair on your body.”

“I'm yours, treat me as you please, abuse me...” As Sami's split tongue began pleasuring her in ways she had thought impossible, Cassandra pulled at her swollen nipples, imagining them bearing huge rings, then let one hand rise to play over her shaved head. She thought of herself back in a provincial English city, bald and pierced, a constant source of fascination to passing strangers. She imagined her life if she hadn't met Nathalie, still working in a hospital, still with long red hair, slim, pretty. And she realised that, for all her suffering, she truly regretted nothing. Her life was a constant adventure now, every day filled with surprises. She let her tongue stud slide forward until it pressed at her tender lip, the tip of her tongue playing with the new septum ring. She relaxed and let the climax engulf her. She was in paradise.

At six a.m. Cassandra was roused from her uneasy sleep by her lover. “Come on, sleepy, time to get up. We've got a few things to do before you get to work.”

Sami appeared to thrive with virtually no sleep, and was already fully dressed. She goaded Cassandra out of her bed and made her walk naked through the clinic (which was almost deserted at this time of day) until they reached the salon. The sight of her reflection in the mirror made Cassandra groan: her lips were still awfully swollen and her nipples were discoloured by bruises. She reached up to touch the large septum ring, which she knew would be a permanent addition to her face.

“Now, darling. What did I say I was going to do to you today?” Sami asked, sitting on the edge of the counter, staring deeply into Cassandra's eyes. Her gaze had lost none of its intimidating aspect: her modified, inhuman features were still terrifying to the young nurse.

Cassandra looked at her sulkily. “Please don't...”

Sami hushed her. “Focus! Answer the question.”

“You said... permanent hair removal.”

Sami jumped to her feet and came behind Cassandra, running her hand up her nape and forcing her to bow her head. Her nape had only the faintest bloom of visible regrowth, soft bristles discernible when Sami rubbed her fingers up toward the crown. The caresses grew into a seductive massage. “Does it feel good to be bald?” Sami cooed. Cassandra guiltily agreed that it did. “And does it look sexy?” She spread her long fingers over the top of Cassandra's cranium and lifted her head to allow her to stare at her reflection.

“It does,” Cassandra whispered, her eyes moistening. She felt that her self-betrayal was complete. She'd condemned herself to eternal baldness. Sami pushed her head down once more and a sting prickled on her nape. The process had begun.

After a few minutes of bearing the electrolysis in silence, Cassandra spoke. “Please, Sami, I'm going to cry. I can't accept I'm going to be bald forever. It really pains me. It's worse that anything else that's been done to me.” She suddenly broke into sobs.

Sami continued to work for a minute before speaking. “Let it out. It's cathartic. The old Jennifer is gone. You're Cassandra now, irrevocably. Grieve for your memories of your life as Jennifer.”

After a prolonged period of work on Cassandra's nape, Sami allowed her to raise her head, but didn't stint from her task. Now the stylus was applied to the margin of her forehead, deleting the follicles from the front hairline. Cassandra was now forced to see herself in the mirror. Superficially, nothing had changed, and yet, the knowledge that this baldness would now be irredeemable was agonising.

Sami worked back and forth across Cassandra's forehead and down her temples. She spent some time treating the sideburns, and worked down in front of the ears onto the cheeks. Cassandra thought of her sideshave, how delightful it felt when Nathalie had stroked the soft short hair. It was a pleasure which would be denied to her now.

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