SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 7

"There, Ann-Toe-Nee, isn't that better?" asked Charlie. Anthony remained silent. "Yeah, well, good job we ain't finished yet, mate," Charlie continued unabated. "We ain't got no shaving foam so the lads here have come up with the next best thing." Nisbo and Sammy approached with Mach III razors in their hands and held them at Anthony's eye level.

Charlie moved the chair with the big mirror on as far forward to Anthony's chair as possible. The big skin didn't want the captive to miss any of what was going to happen next. "Now, young man, just you watch closely as Nisbo and Sammy here take care of the rest of that nasty fuzz on your bonce, cos from tomorrow on you're gonna be doin this yourself." Despite all the self-control he could muster, Anthony's bottom lip began to quiver.

Charlie changed his position and went behind the chair. Nisbo and Sammy, razors in hand, stood at either side. Anthony jumped slightly when he felt the liquid being poured onto his head. Two seconds later, as soon as he realised that he was being soaked with the skins' piss from the pint glass, not being able to help himself any longer, he burst into tears. Charlie, Nisbo and Sammy ignored the prisoner completely. They had a clinical job to get done.

Charlie reached forward and held the top of Anthony's head in a vice-like grip to steady it as Nisbo and Sammy advanced with their razors from each side. "OK, lads, remember, I want it done against the grain, you'll get it smoother that way," instructed Charlie. The two skins began to scrape Anthony's stubble off, slowly and methodically, working carefully up the sides of Anthony's head. It was more than Anthony could bear and he closed his eyes to blot out the reflection of his humiliation. Charlie gave a silent signal for Nisbo and Sammy to stop shaving momentarily.

"Get your fuckin eyes open, you copper bastard. I want you watchin' every last stroke of these fuckin' razors, cos when you shave your own head tomorrow, you'll have to do it right, won't ya, . If I catch you closin' those eyes again, I'm goin' to personally remove your fuckin' eyebrows, fuckhead." Anthony opened his eyes. Charlie thought that this was good, Anthony was starting to obey without giving back any cheek.

Nisbo and Sammy resumed their shaving. Once the sides and back were done, Nisbo assumed the position where Charlie had been and shaved the top of Anthony's head clean too, working again against the grain, from forehead to crown. Anthony had just about stopped crying when he got another soaking from the pint glass to wash away the remaining stubble.

"Now let me explain somethin'. You're one of us now whether you fuckin like it or not. You should have known better than to fuck around with us. From tomorrow on you're goin' to do as we do, act as we act, go where we go, wear what we wear, look how we look, shit how we shit, wank how we wank, the whole fuckin' works, Ann-Toe-Nee. In fact, from tomorrow, Ann-Toe-Nee will no longer exist as we know him, he's goin' to be a changed boy." Anthony was looking up from his bondage trying to take in what Charlie was telling him. It was a good job, because he couldn't see that the other five skins were behind him staring at his predicament - a cop, naked and bald, tied into an old kitchen chair in a shabby flat being lectured by a big fat ugly skinhead. Somehow, all the other skins were being fiercely turned on by this and at least Sammy and Deck had taken their dicks out and were stroking them nice and hard, feasting on the sight before them. A sacrificial lamb, or a sacrificial cop anyway. All the skins were getting off on how Charlie had the upper hand and was in a position to lay down the law to the cop.

"So, Ann-Toe-Nee, we're goin to give you a night to think about how excitin' it's all goin' to be for you tomorrow. We're goin' to work you over good and proper and get you sorted out once and for all matey. We don't want any of your copper geezers comin' after you, so we're goin' to make you look a whole lot different so they don't recognise ya. Fuck, you might even like what's goin' to happen to ya. In time you will, my lad."

Charlie's running commentary and threatenings and the sight of Anthony's bald skull meekly looking up at Charlie from the chair was too much for Sammy and Deck. Without any communication between them they both came over and shot their loads over Anthony's head. Charlie smiled and reached forward and rubbed the sticky mess into Anthony's head and face. "Well, if you ain't guessed it by now, Ann-Toe-Nee, you know now. We're all as queer as fuck here, so you need to get used to that idea too. Now, matey, we're goin to give you a nightcap to help you sleep, cos you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow, my boy." Charlie nodded to Nisbo and on cue, Nisbo handed the big skin two cans of Special Brew. Sammy stepped forward and held Anthony's bald head from behind forcing his jaws open. Charlie began to pour the strong beer into Anthony, as he did before, only allowing Anthony to gulp for breath. "I want you drinkin' this way boy because it'll take effect much more quickly. Go on, gulp it down, that's right." Anthony had the whole can of Special Brew in him in less than ninety seconds. The second one was administered also just as quick. Charlie only stopped when Anthony was burping violently. "There, good boy. You'll soon develop a taste for it, don't worry. I'll see that you do."

"Right, lads get Ann-Toe-Nee to bed. No, wait, just one more thing," Charlie interrupted himself. "Give me your razor, Sammy, you missed a bit." Charlie took the razor that was offered to him and steadied Anthony's head with one hand, and shaved the captive's eyebrows with the other. "That's better. Now you can go to bed. Lads!"

Four of the skins carried Anthony, still bound to the chair, and by now blubbing again, back out into the hall and into a tiny cell-like room under the stairs. They locked the door behind him.

Once in his dark damp hole, his head swimming with the beer, Anthony could do nothing except ponder his fate - his head sticky with cum, only left with eyelashes (would he be allowed to keep those?), humiliated beyond belief, piss poured over him to wash him down, cold, forced to get off his head on strong drink and tied to an old chair in a locked cubbyhole. He was unable to think straight because of the beer - maybe that's why, as he pondered his predicament, his own cock began to twitch.

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