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There is a call on my cell. It is my reoccurring victim. She needs to see me tonight and I am not one to turn her away. After all she has been very naughty or better, bad girl. I can’t wait to hear what she has done. Whatever it is, I will be the instrument of justice and write the wrong.

Typical to her nature, she is later than she said would be. I watch her from my window sitting in her car for thirty minutes. She must be thinking about running, but that would mean she could never see me again. It’s one of the rules. Being late is to be punished, but not showing is unforgivable. I explained to her when we first started that if she didn’t show, it means that it is over and done between us. My rules are simple: you request my attention by calling first, always show, and accept your punishment. The last one doesn’t mean you can’t beg, whine, or complain. It means that you will eventually accept the punishment. They trust me to be just and for the punishment to fit the crime.

My girl decides to see me and crosses the street.

I let her stand outside my door for twenty minutes before letting her inside my place. She doesn’t say anything about the waiting and follows me to my play room. It is really an empty bedroom filled with all kinds of toys. This is play of pain and pleasure depending on the girl. This girl only comes to see me when she has done something wrong and the guilt is too much. I see her when only she needs to see me.

“Why are you here?” I question her.

She doesn’t answer. It seems that she needs to be tortured into confessing her trespass. I question her again and she shakes her head nervously. My patience is long and strong, but I can see that she needs motivation. She is dressed to fuck. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, the shoes are stilettos, and the stockings are black thigh highs. The makeup is done well. She normally doesn’t wear such an elaborate, tasteful, ensemble. What she has done must be terrible indeed. She is trying to distract me. It is her attempt to receive a light punishment because I wouldn’t want to despoil such a beauty. I’ve seen criminals pull the same act. Put them in a suit, give them a haircut, and maybe they will receive leniency. The girl is clever, but she underestimates me.

Her outfit is gone and I have been working her with a paddle, flogger, and now a pair of nipple clamps. With her hands bound, I caress her right breast, which I know to be her more sensitive one. She moans with pleasure even though the bite of the clamps increases with her arousal. Her panties are soaking wet as my other hand goes in between her legs. Very heavy blood filled lips down there. I haven’t even pulled out the heavy stuff because despite the girl’s delicate beauty, she can endure a great deal of pain. It is better to play light with her, so she thinks that I will only want to fuck her. While I do want to fuck her, she is very sexy and pretty, I know that I must deal with her reason for seeing me. If she wanted sex, she would have said so. No, she needs to confess and be punished.

Another hour goes by and I have upped the game. I have blindfolded her, tied her, inserted a dildo attached to a pole and fucked her, placed a vibe on her until she begged for release, but still refuses to confess. I keep her on edge but sense that she is not willing to break. It is then that I realized what I must do and what she really wants. First, I will allow her to come with multiple orgasms from my high powered magic wand. Her orgasmic screams are beautiful.

She is sitting and bound in my favorite chair. It is padded and reclines but everything is accessible. The legs can be spread, but this isn’t what I am going to do. The best part is the mirror she is forced to stare at. No, I am going to get the confession and she is going to hate every moment.

“So you won’t tell me why you called. I have had my fun with you but now it’s the time to get down to business” I menacingly rattle and shake a tool box. She can’t figure out what is in my hand and assumes that it is something that will hurt. I love it when my girl underestimates me.

“Last chance,” I warn her. She shakes her head. I see the fear because this is unknown territory. Her vulnerability begins to appear as I grab her forehead. Then I switch on my clippers. The first cut makes leaves a stripe. It can be fixed by a good hairdresser. The terror of her losing her hair is expressed by a scream.

“Tell me and I will stop,” I say.

No answer and I do it again. I doubt that a hairdresser could save her hairdo. They would have to do a new look, though a much shorter one than she would like. My girl hates short hair and thinks it is for lesbians only. She is a pretty girl, but not for much longer.

“Confess,” I demand as I place the clipper right at the middle of her hair line. She is going to have a reverse Mohawk unless she talks. The girl begins to confess. The tears roll as she tells me how she betrayed her boyfriend with a total stranger and he let her get away with it. Her guilt was tearing her apart and that she needed to be punished for it. She begged for forgiveness and promised never to do it again.

I turn the clippers on and cut right down the middle.

“Why? Stop! I told you! Stop cutting!” she screams at me as I continue to remove her hair. She tries to kick but forgets I tied them down. Stupid girl, I’m going to make sure you don’t tempt anyone and everyone knows that you have been judged. Your boyfriend will appreciate your new look and no guy will want to fuck you. This is punishment; your punishment. It will be a while before you are pretty and while your hair grows maybe you will change. You can wear your shame for a couple of months.

I’m done and I release the girl. She looks at herself in the mirror. She is in shock but continues to stroke her head. The only hair on her is the pubic landing strip. She asks for the clippers and the shaves the landing strip. There is some stubble left, so I bring a big bowl of hot water and some razor. I apply the shaving cream and remove the hair strands that are left. She reclines in the chair and allows me to remove the stubble. Now she is completely naked. Her fingers dance between her legs while her other hand plays with her nipples. The orgasm is a powerful one that makes her cry and shake.

Some time passes before she finds the strength to stand and walk. She dresses and applies her make up. She is cute for a bald girl. She thanks me for her punishment and then leaves. I don’t know if she will ever return. I think this one is the last time.

It is a couple of months when the cell rings. It is the girl. She has done something naughty. Something bad . . .she needs to tell me.

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