The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Melissa’s concentration came and went as she sat in Deborah’s car. Most of the time the raven-haired woman blissfully gazed out of the window, an inner glow spreading through her at the thought of looking more like her beloved mannequins. Occasionally other thoughts would surface, that this was wrong, that it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d turn and look at the older woman and start to speak. Deborah’s left hand would drift to one of earrings, Melissa’s eyes unable to do anything but follow the movement. The young woman’s objections would melt away, the words she was about to say forgotten and she’d turn again to look out her window, unconsciously resuming the pose she’d had before.

Turning off the main street the car slowed as Deborah negotiated a narrow lane, finally coming to a stop in what looked like the reserved parking for a shop. Melissa waited in the car, then looked up as Deborah opened her door, smiling weakly as the older woman helped her out. Melissa could smell the stink of an overflowing garbage somewhere nearby, almost blocking out the hint of approaching rain in the air. Graffiti smeared across the walls of the buildings as they loomed over her, multi-coloured tags and slogans. She absorbed all the tiny details, her mind unable to comprehend what was happening.

Deborah’s hand didn’t leave her elbow as she led Melissa in through a non-descript door, green paint peeling away. A small sign beside it announcing that it led to the “Absolute Beauty Parlour”. Must be the rear entrance, Melissa thought, the idea surfacing liking a bubble from her distracted thoughts.

Inside was a typical salon, to the right a row of chairs, chrome and black vinyl, in front of mirrors, hair styling implements laid out on the bench. On the left, close to the two women, were reclining couches with silver basins at the head, ready for washing the customers’ hair. Beyond them were seats with hair dryers. The only thing missing from the typical hairdressing scene was the customers. Melissa and Deborah were alone. Apart, that is, from the woman who sat behind the counter at the front of the shop, fingers of one hand spread as she carefully applied some nail varnish. Melissa thought she looked about Deborah’s age, but the obviously dyed blonde hair made it difficult to tell.

The blonde looked up at the sound of their approach. Smiling, she rose and headed in their direction “Deborah! I was beginning to wonder.”

“Sorry,” Deborah replied as the two women air kissed, “the traffic was terrible.”

“Yes, never seems to get any better does it?” the blonde tutted. Then she looked at Melissa “This is her?”

Deborah rolled her eyes, “Of course, who else would it be? Melissa, this is Karen. She owns this establishment.”

“Hello Melissa,” Karen said as she trotted over to Melissa, the younger woman noticing the high heels Karen was perched upon. She wondered why she wasn’t in the flats she usually saw hairdressers wearing. Maybe as the owner Karen didn’t do much actual work. Melissa didn’t want to think what walking around in those heels all day would be like. At least when she was pretending to be a mannequin all she had to do was stand there.

The older woman gave her a quick hug and more air kisses.

“Umm, hi?” Melissa responded as she stood there, arms by her sides.

Karen took a step back, Melissa could feel the weight of her consideration as the blonde’s eyes narrowed.

“Now, Deborah has told me that you’d like a skin lightening course, is that right?”

Melissa wasn’t sure. She and Deborah hadn’t talked about exactly what was going to happen here, just some vague statements about looking more like the mannequins. Her skin was already pale, she sunburnt easily. Any more and she might look like a ghost.

“Err, I, is it permanent?” she asked, feeling like a teenager discussing her first styling.

“Well, that’s what Deborah said you wanted,” Karen replied, her tone what you might use to someone a little bit slow.

“I, I don’t know,” Melissa looked to Deborah for reassurance.

The saleswoman was fiddling with one of her earrings again, “Of course it is Melissa. Don’t you remember? We talked about this.”

Of course they had, hadn’t they? Melissa thought she could remember them discussing it, the young woman gushing over how much she wanted her skin to match the mannequins.

“Yes, of course,” she smiled at Karen.

“Well, it will take a few treatments, you’ll have to come in every day for several weeks, do you think you can manage that?” Karen asked, her face taking on an earnest expression.

“Sure” Melissa replied, “but, umm when are you open to?” Much as she wanted to look more like them Melissa didn’t want to lose any of the time she spent admiring the mannequins. If the salon closed too early she’d have to come here straight after work.

“Oh don’t worry dear, we’re open quite late, later than some anyway.” Karen shot a frown at Deborah. The saleswoman rolled her eyes again.

“How, how much will it cost?” Melissa asked nervously. Treatments every day might be beyond her budget.

“I’ll take care of that,” Deborah said. Melissa smiled in gratitude at the older woman. She didn’t know how she’d ever repay Deborah for everything she was doing for her. First the chance to live out her dreams and now paying to make them even more real.

“Oh, no, I can’t let you.” Melissa protested.

“Call it your modelling salary,” Deborah said, reassuringly. Melissa thought that was fair.

“Now, before we get started,” Karen interrupted, “there’s something else that might interest you.”

“What?” Melissa asked, confused.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but Deborah told me that you wanted your skin to match her models.”

Melissa looked from one woman to the other, she wasn’t sure she wanted her secrets shared that easily.

“It’s alright dear,” Karen reassured the young woman, “I needed to know what you wanted to be able to get the tone just right.” Then she smiled, “but we offer some other services as well. I was thinking about hair removal?”

Melissa frowned. She wasn’t surprised that the salon would do waxing, maybe even laser removal as well. But she couldn’t see how that would help her. Well, maybe her underarms, legs perhaps, but the vinyl panties covered her pubic hair, so what would removal help?

Obviously sensing Melissa’s confusion Karen continued “Your head as well, dear.” The salon owner patted her own rather stiff hairdo to make her point. “Then Deborah could just fit you up with a wig to match whatever outfit she puts you in.”

Melissa’s eyes flew wide. The beautician couldn’t be serious. She loved her hair, it was long and thick and she was sinfully proud of it. It had taken years to grow half-way down her back. If she let Karen cut it she may never get it that long again. She took a step back, shaking her head, as she realised Karen must mean permanent removal. She’d be bald forever. Melissa didn’t want that. Part of her mind was trying to tell her that there was something wrong here.. She didn’t want any of this.

“It’s all right dear,” the blonde reassured her, “we can make your hair into a wig, so you can wear that if you want. Just think of all the possibilities. No need for dye, you can be blonde or red or brunette, long or short, anytime you want.”

Melissa was thinking of it, and she didn’t like the idea one bit. She didn’t know why she was here, couldn’t understand why she was considering letting this woman alter her body.

“Let me,” Deborah said, gently pushing Karen aside. Melissa could see the saleswoman’s eyes narrow.

“Melissa,” the saleswoman commanded and the young woman couldn’t help but look at her. Melissa had tensed, ready to run, leaning towards the door. Now she relaxed, straightened, her arms falling again to her sides.

“You want to look more like the mannequins,” Deborah’s firm voice pushed into the confusion in Melissa’s mind.

“I, no,” the young woman protested feebly, just able to take one step backwards, away from the older woman. She wondered why she didn’t turn and run.

“We talked about this, you want to look more like the mannequins.” Deborah insisted.

Melissa’s eyes were drawn to the older woman’s earrings, blue jewels glinting on either side of her head. The young woman stopped backing away. Her hand rose, unconsciously, to where her blue pendant lay. She’d put it back on when she’d changed back into her own clothes.

“I, I,” Melissa stuttered.

“You can tell me,” Deborah crooned.

“I want to look more like the mannequins,” Melissa echoed, her worries seeping away.

“Good girl,” Deborah smiled, warmth at her praise rising through Melissa, touching private parts of her, little electric shocks leaving her with a delicious tingling feeling.

“You want your skin to look like theirs,” Deborah’s tone left no room for doubt, it was a statement of fact.

“I want my skin to look like theirs.” All Melissa could do was echo Deborah’s words, there were no other thoughts in her head.

“You want Karen to remove your hair, you love the idea of being bald and wearing wigs.” Deborah smiled as she spoke and if her eyes narrowed Melissa didn’t notice.

“I want Karen to remove my hair, I love the idea of being bald and wearing wigs.” Melissa smiled back at the saleswoman.

“You want this.”

“I want this.”

“It’s what you’ve always dreamt about.” Deborah’s voice was a breath, flowing over Melissa’s mind, soothing away any worries and cares.

“It’s what I’ve always dreamt about.” Melissa was so happy, for years she’d wanted the chance to look more like a mannequin. She could remember, as a young girl, gazing up at the posters of pop stars on her bedroom wall. Then realising that it wasn’t the singers that fascinated her, only the images’ lack of motion. It was mannequins that obsessed her, their frozen posture, unseeing gaze, their grace. For so long she’d idolised them, fantasised about them, got herself off to thoughts of them. Now her dreams were about to come true and she was going to look like one of them.

“Are you right now, dear?” Deborah asked, her smile finally reaching her eyes.

Melissa nodded, too excited to speak.

“Good girl,” the saleswoman said, and this time Melissa came, waves of bliss rolling through her, her breath catching. She was very careful to maintain her pose and not to give any sign.

“You ready?” Deborah asked Karen.

“Yes,” the blonde agreed, then raised her voice, “Ashleigh!”

A door that Melissa hadn’t noticed opened and a young woman came through. Melissa wasn’t sure how old the new arrival was. Twenty-one? Eighteen? She was slim and not very tall and there was a hesitation about her that made her seem younger than she probably was. Ashen-blonde hair fell straight past her shoulders. The girl was wearing a short pleated black skirt and torn stockings, the lines of her boyish hips and small arse clear. Black platform boots with multiple silver buckle reached almost to her knees. The girl’s midriff was bare and a ring pierced her navel, a purple gemstone winking in the artificial light. Her black halter top was so tight, stretching over her small breasts, that Melissa could see that Ashleigh wasn’t wearing a bra and she was sure that both the younger woman’s nipples were pierced as well.

Ashleigh came to a stop in front of Karen, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “Yes ma’am?” she asked respectfully.

“If you could start getting Melissa ready,” Karen waved a hand in Melissa’s direction, “and we’re amongst friends here, so you can address me properly.”

“Yes Mistress.” Ashleigh replied. She turned and looked up and Melissa could see that she was very pretty in a waifish sort of way.

Mistress? Melissa couldn’t help but wonder what was going on between the salon owner and her employee. None of my business I suppose.

Ashleigh led her to one of the chairs in front of the mirrors. Melissa could hear the two older women talking as Ashleigh guided her into her seat.

“She giving you any trouble?” Deborah asked.

“Not anymore,” Karen smirked, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“My secret,” Deborah replied, a mischievous smile on her lips.

There was silence as Ashleigh placed a cape around Melissa and did it up at her neck. “Can I get you a drink or anything?” The girl’s voice was soft, and unsure, as if she wasn’t even certain she was allowed to ask the question.

Melisa didn’t want anything, but there was such an eagerness to please, mixed with hesitation, about the young woman, that Melissa didn’t have the heart to refuse.

“Just some water please.” In the mirror she saw Ashleigh hurry away as Deborah approached.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. You don’t have anything to worry about, you’re in good hands.” the older woman told her brightly.

Deborah’s smile sharpened as she leant in to whisper to the seated woman. “You don’t have anything to do, they’ll take care of everything. So why not get some more practice being a mannequin?”

A wave of excitement, tinged with something more, ran through Melissa at the thought. Sitting still is what the beauticians would want from her. And if she could be extra still, all the better.

“And I know you’ll enjoy everything they do.” Deborah’s last words slipped into Melissa’s thoughts, smoothing them over and settling deep in her mind. The young woman wasn’t sure what Deborah meant. It didn’t matter, she could feel her mind opening, ready.

“Of course I will Melissa thought. She watched her image in the mirror, barely noticing how motionless she was.

She heard a murmur as the two older women exchanged a few last words, then saw Deborah’s reflection waving goodbye to her as Karen walked up behind her.

The salon owner ran her fingers through Melissa’s hair “So nice and full bodied. It will make an excellent wig. You won’t even notice the difference.”

Melissa let her mind drift at the stroking. She wondered if the Karen was telling the truth, sure that she would have to feel something if she was wearing a wig. For now she was happy to revel in the feeling as her hair was stroked. Then the salon owner was moving around behind her, examining her head.

Karen had started combing her hair when Ashleigh returned. Melissa took the glass with a grateful smile, hating to have to move but not wanting to waste the girl’s efforts. She took a sip, then put the glass down, resuming her pose.

“Now listen carefully,” Karen’s curt statement directed at Ashleigh, “we need to make sure we collect as much of the hair as possible. If I find any useful strands on the floor then mister hairbrush will have something to say to your behind. Understand?” To emphasise her point the salon owner gestured at the girl with the implement.

“Yes Mistress,” the girl replied, trembling, her wide eyes fixed on the hairbrush.

Starting at Melissa’s left temple and slowly moving around her head Karen carefully picked out strand after strand of Melissa’s dark hair, pulling it away from her head before cutting it off close to her scalp. As each length came free Karen handed it to Ashleigh, who gently laid it in a long plastic container that she’d brought with her when she’d returned with Melissa’s drink. The young woman watched in amazement as more and more of her hair was cut off, her appearance changing before her. Her eyes grew wide, she hardly recognised her reflection.

Melissa waited for the salon owner to give the usual instructions a hairdresser would, “Look down”, “Turn right,” but they never came. Instead, Karen’s expert hands turned and positioned her head, the pressure firm but gentle. It was better that way, like being posed.

At the half way point it was as if there were two people looking at Melissa from the mirror, her old self and her new self. My better self. Even with the short fuzz left remaining she could see her resemblance to the mannequins growing.

“Yes,” the beautician said, half to herself, “there’s plenty here to make a wig. Won’t be quite as long as it is now, we’ll lose an inch or two to fix it to the base. But you’ll hardly notice. It will be like you’ve had a trim.”

Melissa felt tears coming to her eyes as Karen continued to her right hand side. But they were tears of joy. At least that’s what the young woman told herself.

“There,” Karen beamed as she handed the last strand to Ashleigh, the young girl placing it almost reverentially in the box.

The older woman looked suspiciously at the floor then at her assistant. In the mirror Melissa could see the fear on Ashleigh’s face.

“Hmm, alright,” the older woman fumed, “it looks like you didn’t miss anything. Perhaps we can find a different use for mister hairbrush.”

The relief flowing from the young blonde was palpable. “Oh thank you Mistress.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Karen replied tartly.

Ashleigh shrank into herself, “No Mistress.”

“Make sure that’s sent off first thing Monday morning,” the hairdresser sternly commanded her assistant, indicating the box containing Melissa’s hair.

Ashleigh nodded before closing the lid and sealing it up.

“Don’t worry,” Karen reassured the seated woman, “we should have it back in a week.”

“Do you do this often?” Melissa asked, so amazed at the change that she had to ask something, no matter how hard she was trying to remain motionless. Even if she hadn’t been trying to keep her pose she would have been unable to take her eyes off her reflection. She looked so strange.

“Oh, now and then. Mainly for people about to have chemo. But others as well.”

Karen turned to Ashleigh, looming over the younger woman. “Go get the tank ready girl. I’ve set the proportions. I don’t want any mistakes.”

“Yes Mistress,” Ashleigh mumbled before scampering away through the door she’d originally emerged from.

The hairdresser turned back to Melissa and smiled, “Now, you come with me and we’ll finish the hair treatment.”

Melissa swallowed, realising what ‘finish’ meant. Her hair had been cut, savagely, the fuzz on her head beyond even what a marine might expect. But given time it would grow back. Now Karen was going to do something to stop that, something to leave her bald forever.

She couldn’t wait.

Karen took one of her hands and pulled her out of the chair. Melissa felt a brush of sadness as she realised she was expected to move. Following the older woman Melissa found herself in a room with a massage table.

“Strip off and lie down, there’s a good girl.”

Melissa felt a small frisson at the last words, but nothing like the effect when Deborah spoke them. She hesitated for a moment, reluctant to expose herself in front of this woman she’d only met a short while ago. Then she chided herself, of course she’d need to be naked if Karen was to access everywhere she had hair.

Quickly stripping out of her clothes Melissa lay face down on the table, waiting as the older woman pushed a trolley laden with jars filled with some strange gel.

Melissa almost drifted off to sleep as Karen went about her work. The older woman was surprisingly gentle, her ministrations the best massage Melissa could remember receiving. First her legs, the beautician’s hands running over her calves, then over the backs of her thighs, fingers rubbing the gel into Melissa’s skin. The young woman could feel a tingling as the substance soaked into her. She wasn’t sure if it was just the massage, or if she could feel the follicles dying, each one never to grow a hair again.

Karen’s fingers almost reached the point where Melissa’s legs ended, the young woman silently urging her higher, the idea of sleep now gone, knowing where those fingers had to reach. The beautician’s hands slipped over her hips, rubbed across Melissa’s arse, her fingers kneading and rubbing. Melissa couldn’t suppress a tremble, hardly bothered to deny how much the massage was turning her on. Karen’s hands reached her lower back, flowed upwards, tracing a path on either side of the prone woman’s spine. Melissa didn’t know whether she had any hair there, but she didn’t protest, the feelings flowing from where the older woman’s hands touched her simply too good to worry about anything else.

Melissa had to bite her lip as Karen’s fingers traced the lines of her shoulders. She wondered which part of her the beautician would treat next. Her answer came as first one arm then another was picked up, Karen holding her wrist in one hand as the other rubbed up and down her arm. The tingles grew stronger, Melissa sure it was the end of whatever hair grew there.

“Rollover please,” Karen asked. Melissa was only too happy to oblige, squirming a little as her well-oiled back came in contact with the table. Her movements only increased as Karen started to rub back and forth across her stomach.

“It would help if you could stay still,” The older woman declared primly.

“Sorry,” Melissa replied, embarrassment flooding her. Of course she had to stay still. It wasn’t just to help the beautician. Stillness was what she wanted, to be just like the mannequins. It didn’t matter how many sparks Karen’s hands were sending through her, as they ran over her stomach, up her torso onto h, h, h, her breasts. Melissa was sure she didn’t have any hair there, but she didn’t mind. The touch of the older woman’s hands was exquisite, waves of pleasure rolling through her, gentle and slow. Melissa could feel that her nipples were like little rocks.

Karen took her time fondling and kneading the younger woman’s tits. Far more time, Melissa thought, than the treatment required. The sparks that shot through her as she felt Karen’s palms gliding over her nipples dissuaded her from complaining. A thick line ran from each hard nub to her pussy, pulsing and trembling. Melissa could feel how wet she was, how eager. She wanted to move, in her mind she could see herself writhing and moaning. It was so hard to keep still. Any moment she was going to …

And then Karen’s hands moved on, just when Melissa thought she couldn’t take any more. The young woman felt a sharper tingling, not unpleasant, from her arm pits, as she realised that she’d never have to shave there again.

Gentle hands ran over her neck, then a single finger was placed in the hollow of her throat. Slowly it moved down, between her breasts. For a moment Melissa hoped it might deviate from its path, give her aching tits the attention they craved, a yearning burning in her, but it moved on, patiently relentless, over her stomach, past her navel, coming to a stop just above her groin.

“You know what comes next, don’t you?” Karen whispered. Melissa did, or at least she thought she did. She knew Karen must be looking at her bush, examining her. The young woman felt her eyes grew wide as she realised how exposed she was to the beautician, how she hadn’t even thought about it when she rolled over. Now the woman was about to leave her totally exposed, take away the hair that surrounded her most private parts.

Except she didn’t.

“Sit up,” Karen commanded, “back to me.”

Melissa frowned, wondering if something was wrong, if Karen was going to stop. She wanted the older woman’s hands on her again, didn’t care what it meant. Melissa didn’t consider herself a lesbian, had never even been tempted to experiment. But right now she couldn’t think of anyone else she wanted touching her. Dimly she remembered Deborah’s last comments, thinking how right the older woman had been, how much she was enjoying this.

She sat up, a graceful fluid motion, swinging her legs over the edge of the table. Melissa placed her hands to either side of her to support herself, aware of the naked sweep of her back that she presented to the other woman.

The young woman swallowed the urge to moan as she surrendered to Karen’s renewed ministrations, the older woman gently caressing the tops of her shoulders. She struggled to remain fixed in her seated pose. Karen’s hands moved slowly higher, inch by inch, until they rested against the back of Melissa’s neck.

Melissa bit her lower lip, trying to stop the trembling she felt. This is it, she thought.

As soon as the thought was completed Karen’s fingers slid up her neck, onto her head. Gently she started massaging Melissa’s scalp. The young woman luxuriated in the touch, the gentle pressure stoking the heat that had risen in her belly. She could feel a tingling all over her head, not unpleasant, and it soon passed, Karen’s fingers continuing to work their magic. Melissa was half-aroused and half-asleep as she sat there rigidly.

Bald, she’s making me bald, the young woman thought as she stared fixedly at a point on the wall. It was taking every ounce of Melissa’s concentration to avoid moving.

Karen’s hands massaged the gel into every follicle on Melissa’s head. The young woman could feel the touch, knew what it was doing to her, excitement rising in the young woman. Her nipples were erect, hard and tight and her pussy was so wet she thought she must be leaking all over the table.

“Lie back down,” Karen whispered into Melissa’s ear. As she did she saw Karen wiping her gloved hands on some paper towels, small flecks of something dark showing up against the off-white paper. Melissa realised it was the fuzz that had been left on her head after Karen had cut her hair. The young woman knew that her head was finished, she’d need a wig if she ever wanted to look like she had hair.

Gently Karen massaged Melissa’s face, rubbing the gel into her checks, across her chin. Dimly she realised that her eyebrows were being left alone, but that she’d never have any problems with facial hair.

Karen’s hands were on her tits again. Melissa hadn’t had any hair there to begin with, let alone now, but she welcomed the renewed attention. The older woman’s hands slid over her stomach, down to her groin until they found her bush. Melissa could feel the slight pull as the salon owner’s fingers twirled amongst the last of her hair, felt it fall away. The older woman gently worked the gel into her skin around her most private area, the sensation driving Melissa insane with need, the sensations and the thought of what was happening to her spiralling together. She could feel the gel covering every part of her crotch, the knowledge that she’d be permanently hairless down there smouldering in her mind.

Karen’s fingers brushed over Melissa’s outer lips. The young woman responded with a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh, sorry,” Karen snickered. “Oh? You liked that? Well, maybe I’ll stop being so careful.”

The beautician caressed Melissa’s pussy, the fingers of each hand on either side of her slit while the thumbs played over her lower lips. The pleasure shot to Melissa’s brain, rolling over her. She couldn’t take it any longer, she started writhing on the table top, hips pumping. She wanted to remain motionless, but she’d reached the end of her endurance.

“Please.” Fires were shooting through her, her need so strong it was painful. Her pussy was clenching, grasping, wishing it had something inside it. Something to push against her walls, something to fill the aching, desperate, need.

“Well, we’re finished now, so…”

Melissa felt two, or was it three, fingers enter her slick channel and start pumping in and out of her. Her cries became incoherent and then a thumb was pressing on her clit, rolling it around, flicking it. The fourth finger joined its fellows, filling her cunt, she couldn’t believe how deliciously full she felt. Another hand started caressing a tit, a finger flicking her nipple. Fires of ecstasy were consuming the young woman, burning everything away. Her inner walls clenched around Karen’s fingers, the pressure creating waves that built and built. Melissa’s orgasm crashed over her, fireballs rocketing up spine before colliding in her brain. She cried out, wordless, back arching, hips thrust high into the air, trying to force Karen’s fingers deeper and deeper, before she slumped back down to the table.

“There’s a good girl,” Karen’s voice gently penetrating the haze in Melissa’s mind, the young woman climbing back to orgasm at the salon owner’s words.

She realised that Karen was holding her elbow, supporting her as she rose from the table. It was just as well, her legs were incapable of taking her weight. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, almost unrecognisable. Her skin shiny, covered in gel, her eyes wide at the sight of her bald head and naked pussy.

“Come on then.”

Karen led her down the hall, Melissa unresisting, to another room, dominated by a large white plastic isolation tank. The clam shell lid was open and Melissa could see a blue glow coming from within.

Ashleigh stood by the side of the tank, hands clasped nervously in front of her.

“Towel her off.” Karen ordered the blonde, “I assume everything’s ready.”

“Yes Mistress,” Ashleigh nodded. Karen went to check the tank as Ashleigh retrieved a towel from a pile on a nearby shelf.

Melissa felt as if she was floating on a cloud as the girl wiped the gel from her skin. Ashleigh moved Melissa’s arms away from her body and the now-bald woman was able to just hold them there, her pose a T-shape. The young blonde was slow and gentle. Melissa thought Karen might be getting impatient but when she checked the older woman out of the corner of her eye she could see that Karen was gazing intently at them, a predatory smile on her face.

Melissa swallowed when Ashleigh cleaned her breasts, the urge to moan or make some sound almost overwhelming. When the girl reached her pussy she had to bite her lip to maintain her pose and her silence. Melissa was sure that she was going to orgasm again, the feel of the soft towel caressing her nether regions sending warm waves through her.

Then the sensations ceased. Melissa didn’t stop looking straight ahead, but she concentrated on the bottom of her vision, puzzled, she was sure that Ashleigh hadn’t finished. The blonde was on her knees, her face inches from Melissa’s groin. Ashleigh was staring at Melissa’s pussy, occasionally flicking furtive glances up at the immobile woman’s face or over at Karen

“Oh go on, you know you want to.” Karen smirked.

Ashleigh didn’t need any other encouragement. Her hands grabbed Melissa’s buttocks and her tongue traced the whole length of the graphic designer’s slit.

Melissa felt her eyes go wide in surprise, her only movement as she held her pose. She shouldn’t be doing this. She wasn’t gay. But the feel of Ashleigh’s tongue was exquisite, as it licked and probed and swirled. It didn’t really matter, Melissa thought, she was trying to act like a mannequin and well, it might have been strange if someone did to a mannequin what Ashleigh was doing to her, but all the mannequin would do would be to stand there. So that’s what Melissa did.

The girl seemed to know exactly what she was doing, touching places in ways that Melissa didn’t even know could evoke feelings like that. That she’s orgasmed only minutes before didn’t stop the swirl of feelings that were rising in her. The girl’s tongue was setting a rhythm, in and out, like the best lover she’d ever had. But more than that, a slower, stronger beat, taking her close than drawing back. Melissa was a wave, almost reaching the high water mark before flowing back, then flowing forward again, nearer and nearer each time. No-one had ever done anything like this to her, electric tremors crashing through her. She came, bucking, as Ashleigh’s tongue probed deeper than Melissa thought a tongue could go. Embarrassment and shame flooded her. But it wasn’t at what she’d done, it was that she hadn’t been able to keep herself motionless. As soon as she could collect enough of her wits, she stood at attention, waiting.

The young woman couldn’t believe what just happened, what she’d let the girl do to her. But somehow she couldn’t find the will to object or even comment. She could just see that Ashleigh was still before her on her knees.

“Thank you,” the blonde said, her eyes shining. Melissa was unsure who Ashleigh was talking to. She trembled as she felt Ashleigh’s breath wash over her most private parts.

“Yes, yes,” Karen snapped impatiently, “now help me get her in.”

The two women manoeuvred Melissa into the tank, the young woman barely able to move by herself. Gently she was lowered into the clear blue liquid. Whatever the tank held it was warm and a little thicker than water and Melissa was easily able to float in it.

Karen fussed around her head, putting a tube in her mouth, not unlike a breathing tube from scuba gear. “Just relax and you’ll sink in.”

Melissa nodded. With the tube in her mouth she couldn’t say a word.

“Oh and you’ll need these,” Karen observed, putting a pair of earbuds in Melissa’s ears. “Should keep you, hmm, entertained. Deborah picked the tracks herself.”

That was kind of her.

Karen bent over Melissa, giving her breathing tube one last check. Then she whispered to the naked woman floating in the blue liquid “Ashleigh’s not gay you know. At least she didn’t used to be.” Melissa thought something about that should bother her. But the music was swirling through her thoughts and the liquid was warm and comfortable. It was going to make her look more like a mannequin. Nothing else mattered.

Melissa didn’t know how much later the clam shell opened and Karen and Ashleigh helped her out. The young blonde dried her off again. Melissa could see a flush in the younger woman’s cheeks, but there was no repeat of her earlier, more personal, attentions. There was a satisfied smirk on Karen’s face as she gazed at her employee.

“Let’s have a look at you,” Karen said, holding one of Melissa’s arms firmly in both hands and scanning back and forth. “Not bad for a first treatment.” She dropped Melissa’s arm and held the young woman’s chin between two fingers, turning Melissa’s head back and forth as she gave it a critical examination. “Not bad at all. Will take a couple of weeks at least though.”

Melissa accepted the woman’s manhandling without comment or protest. She simply stood there. It felt right. If Karen wanted to move her about, well, that was like a mannequin being posed.

“Just a couple more things and we should be done for the night.”

Karen led her back to the room with the table. Melissa could see her clothes were still there, but when she started in their direction Karen stopped her, indicating the table. Melissa was confused, she didn’t think she needed another hair removal process.

The older woman must have sensed her uncertainty. “Don’t worry,” she said, “just a little something extra Deborah recommended.”

Well, if Deborah wants it then it should be alright. Melissa thought.

The trolley was still next to the table, but the jars of gel were gone. In their place was a large bowl, holding a thick white liquid.

“Up now,” Karen clapped her hands, urging Melissa on, “we have to be quick before this sets.”

Melissa lay on the table while Karen used her cupped hands to scoop out a generous helping of the liquid. Which she then proceeded to slather around Melissa’s groin and hips.

“It’s quick setting latex,” the older woman said, “like they use to take face moulds.”

She patted at the material, pushing and moulding it. It felt odd to Melissa, encasing her labia and clitoris.

“So quick in fact, it should be set about, …, now.” Karen smiled brightly, before gently lifting the mould away from Melissa’s body.

The young woman looked down in surprise, her private parts faithfully reproduced in negative in the latex.

“Now roll over and we’ll do your other side.”

“Umm, what’s this for?” Melissa asked as Karen finished the mould of her arse.

“Don’t worry dear, you’ll see in a week. Now get dressed and come back out when you’re ready.”

Melissa was shocked when she re-entered the main salon. All around she could see herself in the mirrors, her head completely bald. Her mind flicked back to the afternoon, remembering the image of the mannequin in the mirror, sans wig. She smiled, thinking how much more like it she now looked.

Deborah was waiting for her, “Oh don’t you look a treat,” the saleswoman beamed. She walked around Melissa, who stood there, waiting patiently

“I can see the difference already,” Deborah enthused, “not there yet, but impressive for a first time. Nicely done, Karen.”

The beautician smiled and shrugged. “Any time.”

Ashleigh appeared, holding a plain Styrofoam wig stand on which was a long raven-black wig. Melissa could tell it wasn’t her hair, but it was close enough.

“Now,” Karen said, “we’ll lend you this until your hair gets back. Ashleigh will tell you how to look after it.”

Melissa noticed the two older women deep in conversation as Ashleigh told her how to care for a wig, how to put it on and fix it in place so that it would look as much as possible like real hair.

“All done then?” Deborah asked at last.

“I think so,” Melissa replied, hesitant. She wasn’t sure she’d remember all the instructions. Still, she’d be back here every day until her skin treatment was finished, so it would be easy enough to ask if she had any problems. “Should I put it on now?” Much as Melissa liked her new look she wasn’t sure about being bald in public. The mannequins never were, so it wouldn’t be right for her either.

“If you want,” Deborah smiled.

Ashleigh helped her arrange the wig, getting it to sit just right on her head. Melissa looked at her reflection in relief. She preferred having hair. She didn’t see anything wrong with that. The mannequins had hair when they were on display. And she was more like them now, her hair a wig just like theirs.

“Well, say thank you and we’ll get you home.” Deborah said when Ashleigh was finished.

“Thank you,” Melissa said, a contented smile on her face.

(To be continued)