Clean as a Whistle

Callista turns the straight razor between her fingers and smiles. She studies her work for a moment, turning my chair slightly from side to side as though inspecting a sculpture. The others gather around her, offering opinions and suggestions while I sit frozen beneath the curse. I want to ask if they are finally finished.

I want to demand that they stop. The straight razor still gleams in Callista's hand, however, and the expression on her face tells me everything I need to know. My stomach sinks. "Callista," I say carefully, "there cannot possibly be anything left to shave."

The room immediately erupts with laughter. "Oh, that's adorable," Marina says.

"She's serious," Reina adds.

Callista steps behind me again. "Your scalp and eyebrows were merely the beginning." She pulls the cape from my body, but the curse is not lifted away with it. She uses the razor to slash my dress into ribbons and remove them. Next she cuts away my bra, gently dragging the razor over my erect nipples.

The realization hits me a second before the razor returns to work. "No." The word slips out before I can stop it.

"Lift your arms bitch!" I comply and Callista runs an assessing finger down the length of my arm pit. "Hmmm..." she said aloud, "Pretty smooth but, let's shave them again, just for shits and giggles."

She picks up the razor and begins shaving away at my defenseless arm pits. It doesn’t take long to relieve me of the minute down that had sprung up in the course of the day and I sigh with relief as I am ordered to lower my arms. The relief, however, is very short lived.

Callista runs her hand up and down my leg. "Well now my pathetic little slut, it seems that you shaved your legs this morning so... ," she pauses for dramatic effect before casually reaching out and pinching a bit of my pubic hair, "I guess we'll just have to start on your pretty little muff!" She severs the wasteband of my panties and whisks them away.

The Empusa ignores me completely as I try to rise from the chair in protest. The curse holds me, my legs spreading against my will. Callista slowly begins whittling away. The others watch with growing amusement as she continues her meticulous campaign against every remaining trace of hair she can find.

As the Empusa aims the wicked straight razor at my endangered pubes, I raise my head and begin once again to struggle pathetically. "Better hold still bitch," Callista grins in my face, "Struggle too much and I might accidentally cut off something important!" The razor circles my **** clit.

I still myself. Moments later, I feel Callista ravaging my beautiful bush. I can hear the scraping of the straight razor as it is drags across the skin of my cunt. Callista studies her work for a moment, then tilts her head as though noticing something she somehow missed. My stomach sinks.

The Empusa points with the straight razor. Several of the women immediately begin laughing. Before I can protest, Callista gently but firmly repositions my legs, spreading them wide. The curse does the rest. My muscles resist for a fraction of a second before surrendering. The feeling is horrifying. I am fully aware of what is happening. I simply cannot stop it.

"Callista," I say through clenched teeth. "This is getting ridiculous."

The straight razor glints beneath the salon lights. "That's what makes it fun." The women laugh again.

Callista continues her work with the same meticulous patience she has shown throughout the entire ordeal. There is nothing hurried about it. Nothing careless. She approaches the task with the concentration of an artist perfecting a masterpiece.

Every new indignity somehow makes the previous ones feel worse.nWhat makes it worse is how ordinarily they treat the entire process. To me, this feels like a nightmare. To them, it feels like an afternoon at the salon.

Eventually Callista steps back and admires her work. It takes a while but in the end, my pussy is left as clean and as hairless as the day that I was born. "There." She sounds pleased. The others immediately lean forward to inspect the result.

Callista runs her fingers sensuously across my newly hairless twat and loudly pronounces "Clean as a whistle. What do you think, ladies?" she asks the assembled villains. Valeria reaches up and slowly strokes my nearly naked mound. Eventually the laughter begins to fade.

One by one the women settle back into their seats. Callista lowers the straight razor and rejoins the others, leaving me alone in the center of the room. For the first time since this nightmare began, nobody is touching me. Nobody is cutting my hair. Nobody is shaving me. Nobody is forcing me to watch another piece of myself disappear into the floor.

The silence should have been a relief. Instead, it feels like the pause between the judge reading a verdict and the sentence being handed down. I stare into the mirror. The woman staring back at me is completely hairless. Her scalp gleams beneath the salon lights. Her eyebrows are gone. Every familiar detail that once framed her face has been stripped away.

She still has my eyes. She still has my mouth. She still has every feature that should make her recognizable. Yet she looks wrong in a way I cannot adequately explain. She looks exposed. ****. Incomplete. Most terrifying of all, she looks helpless.