You Filthy Litte Whore

“You filthy little whore!” – Chris Hall

Denise Cameron stood in front of the mirror, brushing the thick, white-blonde curls that hung to her waist. Tonight was going to be a good night, she decided. Her parents had gone out for the evening and left her alone in the house, and her boyfriend was due over any minute for their first evening alone together. For some reason, her parents didn’t approve of Tony – perhaps it was his motorbike, she mused, or maybe the fact that, at twenty, he was four years older than her. Whatever, she knew there’d be trouble if they knew he was coming. Denise applied a fresh coat of makeup, then regarded the finished article in the mirror. With her large breasts straining to escape her top, and the black miniskirt exposing most of her long, shapely legs, and her hair tumbling all about her, she looked stunning, and she knew it. The ring of the doorbell shook her from her self-admiration, and she bolted downstairs to answer it. She opened the door and embraced Tony as if she hadn’t seen him for two weeks (in fact, it was nearer two hours), pulling him inside.

“Hi, sexy,” he said, taking a step back to take in the whole picture. “You look ab-so- lutely gorgeous tonight. I’m going to find it hard to keep my hands off you tonight.” He reached over and stroked her hair, feeling its silkiness all the way down to her waist, then clutched one of her buttocks and pulled her towards him, kissing her hard as their mouths came together. Still locked together, they slowly made their way into the lounge, where Denise found herself pressed against the arm of the sofa. Suddenly, she lost her balance and fell backwards with a yelp, pulling Tony onto the sofa on top of her.

“Mmmm, this is nice,” said Tony dreamily, coming up for air briefly before locking tongues once more. Denise wriggled under him to get a little more comfortable, then reached up between his legs and felt his growing hard-on. With the one hand, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pulled on the waistband of his boxers. The erect penis almost leapt out, free of its constraint, and Denise peered down.

“My, what a big dick you have,” she said, mocking the Red Riding Hood story.

“All the better to fuck you with,” grunted Tony, who by now was fumbling with Denise’s top, trying to get it off without compromising his position. This was proving more than a little awkward, so he rolled off her and stood up, letting his jeans fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, then tried once more with Denise’s top. This time, it came off easily, although it seemed to take an age to pull all of her hair through it. They stood and kissed again, her naked from the waist up, him from the waist down, now. Tony started to fondle Denise’s breasts while she stroked his throbbing manhood. With her other hand, she reached under her skirt and pulled down her panties. Tony got the message, and found the clasp to her miniskirt, and soon that too fell to the floor. Now she whipped off his t-shirt, and they rolled on the floor amongst the discarded clothes. Tony was sucking Denise’s now erect nipples, and she was stroking his penis and moaning.

“I want you in me,” she gasped, and Tony manoeuvred himself in between Denise’s spread legs. She guided him into her waiting hole… and then the light snapped on.

The room was flooded with light, blinding the two young lovers. Tony looked up and saw two dark shapes in the doorway. Denise’s parents.

“Oh, shit!” he muttered, and quickly rolled off Denise, grabbing the nearest clothes he could find to cover himself up with.

“Mum! Dad! What are you doing back?” cried Denise, still lying naked on the floor, shaking with disbelief. She was for the high jump now, for sure.

“Never mind that – what the hell do you think you’re doing?” replied her father, his eyes blazing. “You!”, he pointed at Tony, his finger shaking with rage, “I suggest you leave right this instant, before I do something we both regret.

Tony had been hurriedly dressing, and could see a chance of escaping lightly, so he grabbed his jacket and practically ran out of the door without so much as a goodbye, leaving his girlfriend to face her father’s wrath alone.

Denise trembled as her father strode over to her, then reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her to her feet. Denise cried out in pain as she was literally pulled by the hair over to the sofa and over her father’s lap.

“You… filthy… little… whore!” her father exclaimed, punctuating each word with a hard slap across her bare backside. Denise yelped with each hit, as her father continued spanking her whilst admonishing her for her behaviour. Finally, he stopped, a little out of breath. “Susan,” he addressed his wife now, “fetch a pair of scissors!”

Denise’s mother, who up to now had not said anything, but had just stood gaping in shock after having witnessed her daughter’s actions, seemed to snap into action and returned in a little while with the kitchen scissors, which she handed to her husband. He laid the cold steel against his sobbing daughter’s naked skin, making her flinch, then lifted a thick handful of her long, blonde curls and pulled it tight.

“So that no-one is tempted to do that to you for a long time,” he sneered, then closed the scissors around the taut locks. With a loud crunch, the blades sliced through, and a long hank of hair came free in his hand.

“No!” Denise screamed through her sobs. “Please, don’t cut my hair!” But to no avail. Her father tossed the hair onto the floor, then chopped off another mass of curls, then another, gritting his teeth as the shears ground into his daughter’s hair, wreaking havoc among her crowning glory. Soon, the floor was covered in a silvery carpet, and Denise’s head was covered in ragged, chopped ends of hair of all different lengths (though none longer than an inch), with a few bald patches where the scissors had cut really close to the scalp.

Her father threw her off his lap and she landed on her back in the pile of hair. She was then grabbed once more, by the arm this time and hauled to her feet and marched out of the room.

“Come with me, girl!” growled her father. “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!”, and led Denise upstairs into the bathroom, where he made her sit on the closed toilet seat, facing the wall.

“Please, Dad!” the girl wailed, “I’ve learnt my lesson. Don’t do any more to me!”

But her father was in no mood for compromise. He opened the medicine cabinet and brought out his beard trimmer, removed the guard from it, and switched it on. Denise froze with horror at the buzzing sound, not wanting to believe her ears.

“You can’t go around with your hair looking like that!” he sneered sarcastically. “Let me tidy it up for you.” With that, he pushed Denise’s head forward and placed the clippers at the base of her skull. Pushing them forward, he mowed a white path up the back of her head, and watched the short hairs float down her naked back. He started again from the bottom, and continued until the back of Denise’s head was completely clean. Then he started at the crown of the head, pushing forward to her forehead. Hair fluttered down in front of Denise’s eyes and up her nose as she sniffled. Soon the girl’s head was completely shaved. Her head was pulled back up and she was forced to look in the mirror directly in front of her. She gasped when she saw the bald woman looking back at her – such a contrast to the last time she had seen herself. Denise slowly brought a hand up to feel her head, and broke down again as she felt only rough stubble where once there had been such a glorious, smooth, silky bed of curls.

 

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