Carol’s Condescension

Carol's Condescension

This story is based partly on my experience, partly on somebody else’s lucky break and a good portion of fantasy.

Carol’s Condescension by Theobald

I met Carol at a volunteer organisation that we both supported. Carol was a few years older than me, almost the same height and just a little on the chubby side. Her hair was a sort of straw blonde and she wore it in a close-fitting style that framed her round face beautifully. Dark eyebrows shaped into high arches emphasised her blue eyes. She was not afraid to wear make-up.

I had just broken up with a girlfriend and she did not have anybody special, so we were soon talking and found a rapport that we both felt could turn into at least a friendship. After several meetings I asked her out on a date. It was fun and we really hit it off, so much so that we started doing volunteer duties together. Nothing much ever happened other than some serious petting, although thinking back, I should have sensed that Carol seemed to have wanted more at that stage already. It was after one of our petting sessions that I happened to mention that I had a thing about shaved pubes. Nothing more was said about it that evening.

A few nights later I phoned Carol about weekend arrangements, and as I was about to ring off, Carol said that she had shaved herself. I was so taken aback that I asked her where. She jokingly said, “In the bath.” Needless to say, the arrangements for the weekend were forgotten and an outing to the drive-in cinema was organised for the following night, where some serious exploration took place. It turned out that her parents would be away at her brother’s for the Saturday and Sunday, an opportunity for us to enjoy our first attempts at an intimate relationship in a civilised surrounding.

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It was only one night, but it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. My amateurish fumblings were gently corrected and sex took on the spectre of something to be jointly enjoyed, rather than a one-sided act of domination. Afterwards Carol took my hand, placed it on her bare love mound and said, “With this I give myself to you.” Many such nights followed, and under Carol’s loving guidance, we gave new meaning to the phrase ‘making love’, heightened by the introduction of shaving into our foreplay.

Four months after we started going out, I proposed to Carol and we set an engagement date some two months later. We agreed on an engagement of about a year and decided that we would begin to live together on the day we got engaged. I looked for and rented a suitable apartment and moved into it about a month later, together preparing the apartment for when we would share it, Carol slowly moving in her belongings in preparation for the big day.

The actual engagement party was a small affair. Our parents and a few very close friends met for a close dinner at a nearby restaurant, where between champagne toasts, I slipped the half-carat diamond solitaire ring onto Carol’s finger. After the dinner they all accompanied us to our apartment and wished us luck and happiness together, even though both our mothers showed slight signs of apprehension over us ‘living in sin’.

Once alone we made a final toast to ourselves with the remains of one of the restaurant’s bottles of champagne we had brought back with us. I took Carol in my arms and said to her, “Would you give me something, just I have given you this ring as a sign of my love and commitment to you?”

“Yes – yes if it is in my power to do so,” she replied. “What is it?”

“Your eyebrows,” I hesitatingly said. She looked at me, took my hands, pulled me to her and kissed me.

We made our preparations and got into bed, immediately falling into each other’s arms. After a short while Carol said that she had to do something and got out of the bed, switching off the light as she did so. I heard the toilet flush and water running, and soon Carol crawled back into bed with me, resuming the cuddle we had been in before she left. I reached to switch the light on again, but she stopped me, saying, “Not this time – leave it off for now.” I found this strange because we loved to see each other while we made love. Carol seemed particularly passionate and I naturally responded. I caressed her whole body and kissed her, eventually kissing her eyes and eyebrows, but something felt strange. I gently kissed her eyebrows again and reached for the bedside light. This time Carol did not stop me. In the light Carol had the most loving and angelic smile, accentuated by a total absence of eyebrows. Further foreplay was unnecessary, and as I entered her she said to me, “Our commitment to each other is complete now.”

Carol was an expert with the eyebrow pencil, and it was only on very close inspection that anybody would have detected that her eyebrows were completely shaved. She even styled her fringe so that she could occasionally go out without eyebrows, leaving one in frustrating doubt as to whether there were eyebrows under the fringe or not, more so if she was wearing sunglasses. Shaving her eyebrows was fun for both of us and Carol actually enjoyed the freedom of being browless. Usually she would shave herself, but sometimes she would come to me while I was shaving. I would take some lather from my face, smear it onto her brows and take it off with my razor. Evenings Carol would shave both pencil line and stubble off with one sweep. I doubt if our parents ever knew of her shaved eyebrows.

The months passed happily and quickly. Exactly two months before the wedding I called Carol into the bathroom. I put some shaving gel on my fingers and applied the lather to her brows. Shaving her I said that this would be the last time her eyebrows would be shaved. She looked a little disappointed but accepted that it would be better if she had her natural eyebrows for the wedding. The two months was just sufficient time for her eyebrows to grow out completely, in fact they seemed to be fuller than before they were shaved. We had great fun planning her eyebrow shape, and even more fun eventually plucking them to full tapered arches, although the experience must have been pretty painful.

The wedding was beautiful. Carol had let her hair grow a little and it was just off her shoulders now. She wore it hanging loose with the ends curled under, covered by her veil. Never had I seen a lovelier bride.

We left the reception with enough time to travel an hour before checking into the hotel we had booked for our wedding night, our final destination being a seaside resort where we were to spend our entire honeymoon. An intimate table had been reserved in the hotel restaurant and we had a light candlelit dinner as our first meal as man and wife. There was a bottle of champagne, compliments of the management, in the bridal suite and we opened it to celebrate our union.

We lay on the big bridal bed, discussing the events of the day and the wedding, and soon found ourselves in a loving embrace. I felt that this was the time to broach the subject that I had been steeling myself for for the past months.

I kissed Carol and said to her, “Darling, do you love me?” She of course replied that she did. I said, “Do you love me enough to do anything for me?” She said that she probably would. I said, “Do you love me enough to let me shave your head?”

Carol stiffened and said, “You want me to let you shave off all my hair?”, to which I said “Yes, I want you to be bald for me.”

In a frightened little voice Carol asked what her friends and family would think of her without hair, how she would be able to go to work, face colleagues and clients and even get through our honeymoon. I told her that she had not listened to what I had been saying. I told her that it was only for me that I wanted her hairless and that nobody need ever know that my beautiful wife was bald. The questions flowed, what about going down to breakfast the next morning? what about the honeymoon? what if we should meet people we know? I said that I had taken the liberty of buying a wig almost exactly like her present hair style and colour. She then asked how and when I wanted to do it. I said that I had packed the equipment and would love to do it immediately. Carol filled her champagne glass and asked to see the wig. I took it out of the corner of my suitcase where I had carefully packed it to prevent it from being crushed, shook it out and placed it over my fist for her to see. I turned it so that she could see it from all sides, and she agreed that it was a good replica of her hair.

Carol emptied her glass and refilled it, downing it almost immediately. The questions continued, understandably. What if I hated her after I had shaved her head? What if she hated being bald? What if her head turned out to have an odd shape or was all lumpy? What if she had spots on her scalp? etc. etc. I assured her that her head was perfectly proportioned, that there were no lumps on it and that I had never seen any spots. She was surprised that I had been inspecting her cranium and realised that I had actually been planning this for a while. Carol asked to see what I was going to use to carry it out, if she agreed. I took out the clippers that she knew I used on myself when I had a beard, also the comb and scissors I had packed. The questions continued to pour out.

“You are asking this of me because you love me?”

“I could never ask such a sacrifice of anybody I did not love deeply.”

“You do not want to do this to humiliate me?”

“I love you too much to ever see you humiliated.”

“You are not trying to make me unattractive to others like Orthodox Jews sometimes do with their wives?”

“A beautiful woman with a perfectly proportioned bald head is one of the most beautiful sights on earth and, needless to say, erotic.”

“Will you shave off my eyebrows again?”

“No, a shaved head and no eyebrows looks too far over the top. A bald woman must maintain her femininity, which means perfect makeup, well-defined eyebrows and eye-catching jewellery, especially earrings.”

“How long would you want me to remain bald?”

“As long as possible, or at least as long as you are comfortable with your new look.”

“Tell me again you love me, you want this because you love me and you would love me after you have shaved me.”

“I could not love you more, and even if you do not let me shave your head, I will not love you less.”

Carol seemed overcome with uncertainty. Eventually, in a small voice she said, “If you really want this, do it! But please try to keep my hair together and clip it off as a single fall so that I can keep it – and I do not want to watch.”

Carol got off the bed, I stood and hugged her but could see a tear form in the corners of her eyes. She refilled her glass, drank the champagne and nodded her head saying, “I am ready, I love you.”

I placed a chair in the middle of the room so that it was not facing a mirror and looked at Carol. As if in a trance, she came over and sat down. I felt very guilty and asked Carol if she was sure she really wanted me to continue. She looked up at me, smiled bravely and nodded her head again.

I tied her hair into a short ponytail and plugged the clippers into the socket. Carol jumped visibly as I switched the clippers on. I lifted the back of her ponytail and hesitated. Carol said softly, almost hoarsely, “Do it, take it all off now.”

I slowly pushed the unguarded clippers about an inch up the nape of her neck and did another cut to the left, and then the right. I continued taking one-inch cuts all the way up to her crown, lifting the intact bundle of hair as I went along. It took me almost ten minutes to eventually reach her fringe and to sever the last strands that held the bundle of Carol’s hair to her cropped head. I gently laid the hair in Carol’s open hands. Only the fringe remained, there was no way that it could be removed intact. Several upward cuts with the clippers sent the three inch strands of hair into Carol’s lap to join the rest of her hair. She sat in the chair in what seemed to be a state of mild shock. I smiled, trying to relieve the tension and received a weak smile in return. My wife looked radiant with her 1/16 inch peach fuzz, hardly visible because of her naturally blonde hair and the subdued light in the room.

Carol mumbled softly, “What now?” I told her that the next step was to complete the job with lather and razor, to which she nodded in agreement. I soaked a towel in hot water and spread shaving gel onto the velvet stubble, rubbing it into a rich lather. When the towel had cooled enough not to scald Carol’s tender scalp, I wrapped it around her head and gave her a long and tender kiss. After waiting a while I removed the towel and applied another layer of lather. Kissing her again I held up the razor that had months ago shaved her eyebrows so many times. Carol looked at it with fascination and once again nodded. I pulled the new blade back from her front hairline and watched the bare scalp being exposed in its wake. Carol had a strange unexplainable reaction to the feel of the razor and the sound as it rasped through the little hairs that were smothered by the lather. I continued to shave her with short, smooth loving strokes, carefully covering every inch of her scalp, changing the blade twice. I used the damp towel to remove the remaining lather and felt her scalp for any roughness. Carol wanted to touch herself but I asked her to wait because I was not perfectly happy with the result of the first shaving. I replaced the blade yet again and spread more lather on her nearly smooth scalp. I went over her entire scalp again until it was perfectly smooth.

“Almost finished – one step more,” I said, and applied an oil-based moisturiser to her scalp, massaging it in thoroughly. I rubbed my hand gently over that magnificent smooth skin and kissed her right on the top of her shiny head. Crouching down in front of her I could only shake my head and smile in adoration at the beautiful sight that confronted me. Eventually I was able to say simply, “Stunning!” Taking both Carol’s hands in my hands, I placed them on her head and encouraged her to explore the utter smoothness there.

Carol smiled, nodded and said, “Feels better than I thought and the actual shaving felt pretty good too – show me.” I took Carol’s hands, told her to close her eyes and sat her down in front of the mirror in the room.


Carol opened her eyes and I heard her take a deep breath. She rubbed her head, turning it left and right. “It looks good, far better than I ever expected, and I will soon get used to it – I love you.”

We undressed each other and got into the bed, neither of us needed any arousing that night. Carol pulled me onto her and opened up to me. I placed my hands under my wife’s smooth bald head and slid myself into her hairless womanhood. Kissing her fully and long I whispered in her ear, “Now you are truly mine and mine forever, my love.”



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