Blondie's Humiliation Stories

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Chapter 15: Felicity
Sat Feb 9, 2008 9:44pm
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Blondie, Blondie Had No Hair

“Now be a real sweetie and help me find a pair of scissors.” She started rummaging through the nightstand drawer. I stood there, stunned at what was about to take place. “Well don’t just stand there, check the dresser.” I slowly walked over to the dresser, unbelieving at what was transpiring. Here I was, naked, helping my tormentor find scissors so she could cut off my pubic hair. I went through the motions, opening the top drawer. As luck (or lack of it) would have it, the first thing I saw was a small pair of scissors. Desperately, I picked them up, hoping to hide them under the bed.

“Good boy, Blondie!” shrieked Felicity, sneaking up on me. I almost jumped out of my skin from the scare. Felicity took the scissors from my hand, held them up to eye level and opened and closed the blades a couple of times for effect. Just the sound had me backing up in apprehension. “Yes, these ought to do the trick just fine,” she said while looking at my crotch with a fiendish grin.

I dropped to my knees and clasped my hands together in a classic pose of desperate entreaty. I’m sure it looked quite dramatic. “Please, Felicity, I’m begging you one last time…”

“Oh, for crying out loud, how pathetic.” She grabbed a few strands from the hair on my head and acted as if she was about to cut them off. “Okay, then, we’ll just start right here and work our way down.”

“Okay! Okay!” I cried, while standing up.

She looked down at her target, then paused, putting her fingers to her chin, as if deep in thought. This, I knew, could not bode well for me. “Let’s have some fun with this, Blondie,” she said, eyes widening as if a light had just turned on in her head. “You did so well singing ‘Happy Birthday.’ I’ve got another song for you. Are you familiar with ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm?’” I nodded wretchedly. My stomach was in knots. “Great! We’ll use the same tune, but we’ll plug in our own lyrics. Let me think…” She paused for a few seconds while I stood there, wishing for death. “I know! It goes like this: ‘Pretty Blondie had no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh. With a snip-snip here, and a snip-snip there, here a snip, there a snip, everywhere a snip-snip, pretty Blondie had no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh.’ Now the beauty of this is [I must tell the reader that she had a maniacal look in her eye at this point; it was downright scary] that every time you say the word ‘snip’ I snip off a little bit of your hair. So essentially, you’ll control the tempo of the snipping with your singing. The more you sing, the less hair you’ll have down there. Won’t that be a fun game, Blondie?” She paused while grinning and staring at me. “Okay, anytime you’re ready, sweetheart. Do you want to practice before we do the real thing?” I shook my head sullenly. She inched closer to me, her weapon at the ready. “Oh, do me a little favor, sweetie, and hold your little pee pee down and out of the way. I’d hate to miss and snip the little thing off, know what I mean?” She laughed aloud, obviously quite amused with herself. I pushed down my penis with my left hand; I certainly didn’t need an “accident” to add to my suffering. There was silence for a few seconds. Felicity stood by anxiously. “Any time now, Blondie.”

“Blondie, Blondie, had…”

“No, no, it’s PRETTY Blondie. Now start over.” She was really wired up now.

“Pretty Blondie had no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh. With a…” I hesitated, momentarily unable to continue. Felicity gave me a look of admonition. “With a snip-snip here…” I winced as I watched a small amount of my precious pubes gravitate unfettered to the carpet. “And a snip-snip there, here a snip, there a snip, everywhere a snip-snip…” A total of eight snips of the scissors coincided with my less-than-mellifluous intonations. My voice cracked through the last part, as I struggled to maintain my composure. “Pretty Blondie had no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh.”

Felicity actually hopped up and down with joy. “Excellent, Blondie. Excellent!”

I looked down to assess the damage. I could see the difference, but it wasn’t huge. The little devil was cutting off oh, so little at a time, to prolong my agony, or, more likely, her entertainment.

“Let’s do it again!” she said excitedly.

Again I sang the sordid song, and again eight more snips were taken from my pubic hair.

“Let’s do it again!”

The child in her was coming out; she was captivated with her little game. After the third verse, there was a noticeable degree of hair loss. The feeling of despair was momentarily overshadowing my embarrassment. Felicity handed me the scissors. “Now you do the snipping, Blondie, while I sing. You’ll see, it’s really fun!” She gave me no time to argue. “Pretty Blondie had no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh. With a snip-snip here…”

She sang, and, with incredulity, I snipped. She put her head down close to the action, and emphasized the word ‘snip’ each time she sang it, laughing as she watched my hair slowly disappear. At the end of her verse, she again jumped up and down excitedly, clapping her hands. I was starting to think that she was positively deranged. But she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Okay, my turn. Hold your little wee wee out of the way, and start singing,” she said as she took the scissors in her hand again. “Tell you what let’s do, Blondie. Let’s take turns, until there’s nothing left.”

And so we did. We passed the scissors back and forth seven or eight times, trading off singing the dreadful song until there was nothing left to cut.

Felicity was the last to have the scissors. She placed them on the dresser, then leaned over to scrutinize the fruits of her labor. There was still some stubble remaining, and she wrinkled her face. She grabbed my elbow and led me towards the bathroom. “We have to finish the job, sweetie, so you’re totally bare down there.” She proceeded to turn on the hot water, holding a facecloth underneath the faucet. “I’ve seen my daddy soften his beard with hot water. This will make it easier, and you’ll be really smooth.” She then found Becky’s razor and some shaving cream in the bathtub and handed it to me.

“Here, you have to do it, I’m afraid I might cut you.” She paused. “Unless you want me to get Mitch in here to do it for you.” She laughed to herself while she handed me the hot, wet facecloth. “Here, hold this over that stuff you have left for a couple of minutes.” She reached down and without warning took hold of my balls and strummed her fingers across my scrotum. Startled, I jumped back, letting out a high-pitched squeal, much to Felicity’s amusement. “I think you’ve got a few hairs on your little balls, so wrap the cloth around those, too.” She was making sure that I would be totally denuded. Under her supervision, I shaved off the last vestiges of my bodily hair. She handed me a towel, and I dried myself off. Self-consciously, I covered myself with my hands.

“Put your hands behind your back, let me see,” she ordered, all too eagerly. I did, and Felicity grinned brightly while staring at my smooth-shaven genitalia. “Now it looks just like Joey’s.” My face flushed brighter, and again the little girl laughed joyously. “Come, let’s have a look in the mirror.” She took me by the hand and led me to the full-length mirror. She stood next to me and we both looked at the reflection. “Go like this.” She put her arms above her head, holding her left elbow with her right hand, and her right elbow with her left hand. I followed suit and was taken aback by the sight of an apparently prepubescent sixteen-year-old boy. I wanted to cry, but I was beyond tears. “Ooh, wait ‘till everybody sees this! You look like a little boy, Blondie! How does it feel to have no hair?” I didn’t answer. I just stood there, staring at the mirror in disbelief, drinking the full cup of degradation.


The Babydoll

Felicity brought me out of my stupor when she pulled the pink babydoll over my head. “See, I promised I’d let you wear this.” It had short, fluffy sleeves, and the lacy hem dropped just below my balls in the front, and barely covered my ass in the back. I nervously tried to pull it down further, but there was no give.

“It’s too short…please, can I just wear the pajamas?” I pleaded.

“Nonsense, sweetheart, it’s perfect. I know it seems short, but you have such pretty legs, it would be a shame not to show them off. I’ll tell you what—I won’t make you put on panties. Your babydoll is so short, your panties would show. You wouldn’t want that, would you Blondie?”

Then it hit me. The girls, and even worse, Mitch, could easily get an eyeful if I wasn’t careful. I couldn’t believe I was about to say what I was about to say.

“Can I please wear some p-panties?” I cringed at how that sounded. Felicity laughed.

“Oh, sweetie, what a good girl you’ve become. Turn around, let me show you something.” I turned around miserably, my back to the mirror. “Now turn your head and look in the mirror.” When I did, Felicity lifted the babydoll halfway up my back, exposing my bare ass. “If you wear panties then Mitch won’t be able to see your cute little tushy.” I blushed yet deeper, and Felicity afforded herself yet another hearty laugh.

My feeling of humiliation was surpassed only by my sense of dread.

  • Chapter 15: FelicityBlondie., Sat Feb 9 9:44pm
    Naked on the Bed Felicity grinned wickedly at me for a few seconds. I stood there on the stool, still bent over at the waist. Without a word, she lifted one leg, then the other, freeing the panties... more
    • Chapter 15: Felicity — Blondie., Sat Feb 9 9:44pm
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