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Auburn Initiation Part One by joelsweet


(Feel free to make a request if you want, and if you like this one, please let me know.
This one is a request from a friend on DeviantArt.)

Rowan paused, his hand hovering above the carved silver doorknob. There was no backing out now, unless he ran away.. But that probably wasn't an option. The heavyset maid behind him wouldn't allow him to escape. Rowan glanced over his shoulder, and saw her glaring at him suspiciously. She knew he was thinking about making a break for it. He took a deep breath, clutched the cold knob, and turned it before he could stop himself. He pushed it gently, but felt the maid shove him roughly into the room. Rowan looked back at the buzzed woman in alarm as she smirked at him and closed the door.

“Are you hurt? Sorry about my maid, she can be a bit cruel sometimes.” Rowan turned around and caught his breath. There he was. Prince Euphores. He smiled at Rowan warmly, his forest green eyes sparkling. Rowan noticed the prince’s gold embroidered white tunic, and wondered how much it cost. Probably more money than all of what Rowan had earned in his entire life combined. Euphores was a bit younger than Rowan, probably in his late teens. He flipped his light golden-brown hair over his shoulder, where it settled around his hips softly. “It's nice to meet you. My head servant did a good job of picking you out to buy. You're quite stunning,” the prince said charmingly. Rowan gave the prince an insincere smile, not trusting him at all.

He looked around the expansive room and lavish decor. A huge canopy bed with emerald green blankets was in one corner, and huge couches and tables were placed about the room. Doors lined the walls, and Rowan guessed that they led to closets, large bathrooms, balconies, and baths. The carpet was the color of paper, and felt like plush cotton under Rowan’s bare feet. Prince Euphores was certainly spoiled, and used to getting what he wanted. The thing that really alarmed Rowan, though, was the large glass cabinet against one wall. Rowan had a bit of a hard time seeing details from far away, but from what he could determine, the case seemed to have long ponytails of all colors and textures lined up on shelves within it. With a shiver, Rowan wondered if his own hair would soon join the ranks of all of those severed trophies.

“I'm sure you'll serve me well as my concubine,” Euphores said, with a hint of a warning in his tone. He stepped closer to Rowan and looked his new toy up and down. “Yes. You'll do nicely.” Rowan looked down at the prideful prince, inwardly annoyed that his new master was only a boy. Euphores reached up and removed Rowan’s silk headscarf. Rowan felt Euphores’ warm fingers gently brush against his neck as the pins were removed from his hair. With a swish, Rowan felt his hair cascade around his body in tight waves down to his mid thighs. “So much hair..” The prince pulled his fingers though the auburn locks tenderly. “And it's all mine now,” he whispered.

Rowan looked at the prince warily, and a feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He had suspected that this would happen. Every single one of the prince’s staff had been sporting closely clipped locks, and then the ponytails on display… Euphores pulled up a cherry wood chair and beckoned to Rowan.
“Come, sit down.” Slowly, Rowan lowered himself onto the chair in trepidation. He watched the prince closely, with cautious eyes. Rowan saw Euphores open the satchel swung over his shoulder and pull out a large white piece of cloth. Rowan saw a blur like a blizzard and suddenly there was a cape wrapped around him. He knew for absolute certain what was going to happen when he heard the buttons being snapped closed around his neck. He would be shorn.

Euphores pulled Rowan’s silken locks out from under the cape and over his shoulders to the front of the cape. They looked like a waterfall of rust running down the white fabric.
“You see, Rowan, I don't allow anyone in my quarter besides me to have long hair. It detracts from my appeal if a lowly slave has beautiful locks too. I deserve the attention, not some commoner.” He grinned, but there was coldness in his eyes. Suddenly, Rowan was full of fear of Euphores.

Euphores daintily wrapped his arms around Rowan’s neck from behind and ran his hands down his new concubine’s silken hair.
“Mm. You must have been a bedmate before, too, right? Your skin is pale and your body is fragile. Like a little doll.” He held up the right side of Rowan’s hair. “Should I shear you like a young girl does with her dolls?”
“No, please don't,” Rowan said quietly. Euphores looked at him, annoyance flashing over his face.
“Excuse me? You are my slave now. I expect perfect compliance, or I will have you executed for treason,” he declared in a cool voice, chin raised. “Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” Rowan replied. Euphores smirked.

“Now, tell me to cut your hair. Beg me.” Rowan was silent, not wanting to succumb to that. “Do it!” the prince demanded. Rowan drew in a breath.
“Cut my hair. Please,” he said quietly and reluctantly.
“Louder! Tell me how you want to be buzzed tight!”
“Please, master, clip me short! Buzz off all my hair!” Rowan cried. Euphores giggled.
“Okay, if you say so.” Rowan watched him procure clippers from his satchel, as well as a ponytail holder.

Panic swelled inside of Rowan like a tidal wave. He felt Euphores shove his chin to his chest. The prince tied the ponytail band loosely at Rowan’s forehead around his locks, causing Rowan to have all of his hair obscure his vision like a reddish-brown wall. The hair pooled in Rowan’s lap and draped over his legs in a rippling waterfall. From behind him, Rowan heard a click and a loud whirring begin, and braced himself. He suddenly felt the cold, vibrating teeth on his neck and shivered. As the blades moved, their pressure caused Rowan’s scalp to dip slightly. With a swift stroke, the clippers cut a path up to Rowan’s crown, leaving only stubble behind.

Euphores laughed.
“This’ll teach you to be submissive.” He pushed Rowan’s head down harder against his chest as he cut another swathe on Rowan’s nape. Rowan felt absolutely humiliated. None of his previous owners had made him feel like that. And he absolutely hated this. Someone shaming another for absolutely no reason other than to feel dominant. It filled Rowan with anger. How many other, more innocent new concubines had been stripped of their hair and made vulnerable and passive? Was Rowan one of dozens of previous victims?

Euphores finished clipping Rowan’s nape and moved the shorn strands out of the way so he could feel it. He stroked the sandpapery auburn bristles remaining there and switched off the machine.
“Mm… Nothing like a new concubine beginning his initiation.” He leaned over Rowan’s shoulder, making his long, sandy hair drape onto his prey’s chest and lap. Rowan lifted his head to glare at the prince warily, and Euphores kissed him roughly before shoving his head down again. “Won't it be nice when you barely have any hair on your head, while I have all of this?” The prince moved away again, his locks slipping back over Rowan’s shoulder. The clippers resumed their purring, and Euphores drove them from Rowan’s crown to the base of the ponytail on his hairline in a clean movement, leaving a long strip of exposed skin on the top of his head. The newly shorn strands, still bound to the ponytail, fell into Rowan’s face along with the rest of his hair.

Euphores took Rowan’s head and leaned it to the left as he haphazardly clipped the right side of his scalp. Rowan felt like molding clay under his new master’s hand, vulnerable and infuriatingly submissive.
“How long did it take you to grow this hair? Ten years? And I'm taking it down in less than ten minutes,” he remarked cheerfully, but with a bite in his tone. Rowan wanted to cry, but he would not allow himself. It was almost over. He would just have to get used to being a skinhead. Rowan must have shown some of the emotion that he was feeling in his facial expression, because Euphores jeered, “Aww, are you sad? Did you have an emotional attachment to your hair?”

Rowan gritted his teeth in fury.
“Maybe your old master liked your hair, and that’s why it is.. actually, WAS now, so long?” Euphores asked, not expecting a response. Rowan tried to glare up at the prince, but his chin was being pressed too hard against his chest. Euphores harshly carved out a large arch around Rowan’s left ear, causing the initiate to whimper.
“Almost there!” Three more strokes, and the ponytail was separated from Rowan’s head. Rowan cautiously lifted his chin up and looked at the prince, who was clutching the shorn tail. Rowan felt really light-headed and cold. He hadn't realized how much weight and warmth his hair had provided.

Rowan was left there, scalp nearly bare and caped, his humiliated eyes brimming full of unshed tears. His head smarted from the rough treatment. The clippers returned to his head, as Euphores clipped off the longer patches that were left, holding the ponytail in the other hand. Rowan stared blankly ahead, still not fully comprehending what had just happened. He felt the vibration against his scalp abruptly stop, and heard the clippers switch off. Hesitantly, he looked back at the prince, who grinned.
“All done.” Euphores swiftly tore the cape off of Rowan. “Now smile. Thank me,” he requested in a sweet voice, with an undertone as sharp as a knife. Rowan forced his mouth to turn up at the corners.
“Thank you sir,” he quietly said through gritted teeth. He felt so cold without the blanket of hair covering his head. Freezing and helpless. He hadn’t realized it, but goosebumps had begun to rise on his arms.
“Aww, are you cold? I’ll keep you warm.” Euphores sat on Rowan’s lap and draped the ponytail around the concubine’s shoulders. The prince gently nestled his face against Rowan’s chest. Rowan could not believe the nerve that the prince had. He was so used to getting whatever he wanted that he had lost common decency! After what he had just done, he thought that he could just snuggle with his victim? Rowan leaned back, repulsed by his new master and his nauseatingly strong rose-scented hair. He wanted to shove the prince off of him and throw up. But he couldn’t. He had to sit there and be a good little concubine. In different circumstances, the regal Prince Euphores would be on the losing end of a fight with Rowan, cowering in fear and ashamed of his actions.

“Strip,” Euphores demanded softly. Rowan groaned inwardly and inclined his back forwards. He reached his long arms behind him and began unbuttoning his simple black tunic. Euphores eagerly helped to pull it off, then shifted his position so he was facing Rowan. He tenderly stroked the incredibly short, red-brown bristles left on Rowan’s, and leaned forwards so that his blonde hair tickled the concubine’s bare chest.
“And now..,” he whispered, “comes the best part.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan had been under Euphores’ harsh domain for over three months. Every day was the same. Rowan would wake up next to Euphores, and stay still so he didn’t wake the prince, not wanting to have to spend any more time with him than necessary. Euphores would awaken, and Rowan would silently bathe and dress him. Before Euphores left, he would forcefully plant a kiss on Rowan, and then leave and lock the door. Rowan would spend the entire day bored out of his mind, and after the first month he had memorized how many tiles were on the bathroom floor, how many ponytails were in the glass case, and how many pieces of stained glass were in the windows. Rowan exercised for a half and hour sometime during the day, to try and stay in shape. It was a dreadfully mundane life, and Rowan began to suspect that insanity was just around the corner. There was no books to read, no board games to play; there wasn’t even a chore to do, because the maids came while Rowan was eating breakfast and then left, locking the door again.

Rowan was a prisoner with no escape. Euphores would come back at around 6 in the afternoon, carrying dinner with him. They would eat, Euphores chattering on about the exciting things he did that day, while Rowan picked at his food. Once a week, Euphores would sit Rowan down in that cherry wood chair and walk into his closet, key in hand, while Rowan waited in trepidation. He would come back with the barbering kit and grin. Rowan would look forward, stoically, and say his lines flatly.
“Please shave me. I deserve it. Keep me tight.” Euphores would pull out the cape and clippers and freshen up Rowan’s tight buzz. After that, they would undress and make “love” together, although there was no love involved. Rowan was almost completely unresponsive, the light gone from his eyes. Euphores would climax multiple times, but never help Rowan to. Their “love” making was only about him. Some days, on the worse days, Euphores would pull out Rowan’s severed auburn tail. He’d tease him with it, tie him up with it, sometimes even whip him with it, his eyes saying, ‘I have complete control over you. I’ve taken everything from you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Euphores would then peacefully fall asleep next to the concubine. Rowan, the once proud and noble servant, felt like he was broken. He had grown to love all of his other masters, but this one.. This one made him afraid. This one had no respect for him at all. Sometimes, late at night when the prince was asleep, Rowan would softly cry, praying to get out of this situation.

On one of the days that Euphores had shaved Rowan, the prince was sleeping quietly next to the concubine, who was wide awake. Rowan felt simply horrible. It had been one of the days that Euphores had pulled out the long, rust colored ponytail that had once belonged to him. Rowan had been stripped and then hit with the tail repeatedly. His eyes welled up with tears just thinking about it. He had red stripes on his back from the hair, although his skin had not been broken. To make matters worse, the prince’s unbound hair kept brushing against the new welts. His skin stung, and Rowan’s anger was slowly building.

Rowan opened his eyes because he knew he couldn’t sleep. He looked across the dim room and- wait a second. Was that… the barber kit? Yes, it was! Euphores hadn’t locked it away after the weekly shearing! Cautiously, Rowan slipped out of the bed, trying to not wake up the prince. He crept across the carpet and over to the kit, which was lying open on the floor next to the cherry wood chair. His heart skipped a beat in excitement when he saw that all of the haircutting tools were still there. This was his chance! He quickly glanced back at the prince, who was still calmly sleeping, his long, golden-brown hair spread out all around him. Rowan grinned deviously, a little bit of light returning to his eyes.

It was time to get revenge on the spoiled prince.


(I'm not really into the sadistic hints, but some of you might be. Sorry for any spelling errors.)



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