"I'll allow you if..."

"... if you do it right." you say.

This response takes Meredith by surprise. Her eyes open wide. She seems relieved that she's not in trouble, but she doesn't know what "do it right." means.

You're happy to show her.

"Strip." You say.

She does, without hesitation. She may be a stubborn, angry, feminist, but she's not dumb. She knows who holds all the power here. She pulls the see-through dress up over her head, then reaches behind her back and unfastens her bra, letting it fall to the ground, exposing her plum breasts. For some reason you'd imagined her nipples would be sizable like her tits. They're not. They're tiny.

Then she slides down her thong, exposing her thick, curly red bush, just as you expected.

"Don't move." You say. She doesn't. She has no plan to. You could do anything to her.

Instead you run into your bathroom and grab your electric razor. When you return with it, you can see the look on her face. You see that it's acceptance.

"You understand what I'm going to do?" You ask.

"You're going to make me... sluttier." She answers quietly. You nod, and you see her mouth the words 'thank you.' as if she's not ready to say that out loud, but it's how she feels.

You step up to her and drop to your knees. And for a split second realize that you're now inches away from her pussy. It's so soft and tight. You'd forgotten, maybe because she's been so loud and self-assured all this time that she's just a college kid, young, impressionable, ready to learn from you.

You flick the razor on and press it to her crotch. You shave off every last hair, leaving no landing strip, no trim triangle, nothing but bare flesh.

Then you stand back up. "Arms up" you order. She complies. And you trim off the hair in her armpits. It's statement hair. You know that. It's meant to say. "I don't have to conform to your standards of beauty. I don't have to be objectified if I don't want to be." It's gone now.

Then you grab the lovely red hair on the top of her head and fling it to one side, and shave half of it off. She gasps. But it's a good look for her. It says "bad-girl"

Finally you're done. Her chest heaves up and down with exhausted anxiety.

"You can re-dress now." you say, but quickly clarify when you see her reaching for her bra. "Not the underwear, just the dress."

And she does, sliding the see-through dress back over her naked body. It's quite a sight to behold.

But you're not done yet. You grab her right nipple and pull and twist. "How many cocks do you plan on having in you tonight?"

You see her mind race. She'd probably just planned on one or two. But suddenly that's a wrong answer. "T... three... maybe?" She says. You pull her nipple harder. "Five..." harder. "Ten..." harder. "Twenty. It doesn't make sense to make the effort if it's not at least twenty!"

You relent, and as you'd hoped, see that a couple tears have ruined her dark eyes, not drastically, but enough to notice. Then you place your thumb at the corner of her pink lips, and smear her lipstick across her cheek.

Finally, she looks perfect. She knows it too.

As you're putting your shoes on, she asks "Where are you taking me?"