I’ve always been drawn to the smooth, unblemished expanse of a bald head. There’s something about it that thrills me, something that makes my heart race and my fingers itch. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by the idea of a man without hair—vulnerable, yet powerful, like a statue carved from marble. My friends and family think it’s odd, maybe even unnatural. But they don’t understand. To me, it’s art. It’s control. It’s perfection.
My name is Priya. I’m 28 years old, and I’ve been married to Rohan for three years. He’s a good man—kind, hardworking, and loving. But there’s one thing about him that’s always bothered me: his hair. Thick, black, and perfectly messy, it’s the kind of hair that every man envies and every woman adores. To me, it’s a barrier, a constant reminder of the imperfection that stands between us.
So, I made a plan.
It wasn’t easy. I had to wait for the right moment, the perfect opportunity to strike. Rohan is a man of routine, and I knew that one day, his routine would be his undoing. He works from home as a software engineer, spending hours in front of his computer. I knew that eventually, he’d need a break, a moment of relaxation. And that’s when I’d act.
One sweltering summer afternoon, Rohan decided to take a nap. He’d been working non-stop for weeks, and the heat was unbearable. I watched him lie down on the bed, his shirt off, his hair sticking to his forehead. My heart pounded in my chest as I crept into the bathroom and retrieved the shaving kit I’d been keeping there for weeks.
I stood over him for what felt like an eternity, my hands trembling. I wanted to do this, I told myself. I needed to do this. But what if he wakes up? What if he sees me? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed it aside. This was too important.
I dampened his hair with a wet cloth, careful not to touch him too much. Then, I lathered his scalp with shaving cream, the foam glistening in the dim light of the room. I picked up the razor, my breath catching in my throat. The first stroke was the hardest. The blade glided across his skin, leaving a trail of smoothness in its wake. I couldn’t help but smile.
But then, Rohan stirred.
My heart nearly stopped. I froze, the razor pressed against his scalp, as his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, we just stared at each other—him confused, me terrified.
“Priya?” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind raced, but I couldn’t form a single coherent thought. All I could do was stand there, the razor still in my hand, as Rohan slowly sat up.
“Priya, what the hell are you doing?” he repeated, his voice sharper now. He reached up to touch his head, and his eyes widened in horror. “What have you done?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I kept shaving, my hands moving with a precision I didn’t know I possessed. The blade scraped against his scalp, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. Rohan tried to push me away, but I was too strong, too determined.
“Stop!” he shouted, grabbing my wrist. “Are you insane?”
But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I was in a trance, driven by a desire I couldn’t control. The feel of the razor against his skin was intoxicating, the sight of his balding head a source of twisted pleasure.
Finally, I finished. Rohan’s head was smooth, completely devoid of hair. He stared at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and anger.
“You’re crazy,” he whispered. “What’s wrong with you?”
I stepped back, my chest heaving. “You should thank me,” I said, my voice steady now. “You look perfect.”
Rohan shook his head, his expression incredulous. “Perfect? Are you out of your mind? My hair was perfect. You’ve ruined me.”
I smiled, a cold, calculated smile. “No, Rohan. I’ve just begun.”
Over the next few weeks, things changed. Rohan stopped leaving the house, afraid of what people would think of his shaved head. He became withdrawn, barely speaking to me or anyone else. I watched him with a twisted sense of satisfaction, knowing that I’d taken control of his life.
But my plan wasn’t just about the hair. It was about something much bigger.
I’d been planning this for months, ever since I’d discovered Rohan’s secret. He’d been embezzling money from his company, millions of rupees that he’d stashed away in offshore accounts. I’d found the evidence hidden in his desk drawer one night, and I knew that with that kind of money, I could do anything.
So, I made a deal with him. If he agreed to do exactly as I said, I’d keep his secret. If he refused, I’d expose him to the world.
At first, he thought I was joking. But when I showed him the documents, the bank statements, the transfer records, he knew I wasn’t bluffing.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice laced with desperation.
“Because I can,” I replied. “And because you’re going to help me get what I want.”
I didn’t tell him what I wanted, not yet. But I would, soon enough.
For now, I was content with the power I held over him. And as I looked at his bald head, I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of pride. I’d taken control of his life, just as I’d always wanted.
But this was just the beginning.
One night, as Rohan sat in front of the TV, his bald head glistening under the light, I walked over to him and handed him a piece of paper.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s a list,” I said. “A list of things you’re going to do for me.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. “And if I don’t?”
I smiled, the same cold, calculated smile I’d given him weeks before. “You know what will happen if you don’t.”
He nodded, understanding. He had no choice.
And with that, my plan was set in motion.
I’d always known that I was capable of great things, but I’d never imagined that I’d go this far. But now, as I looked at Rohan, his bald head a reminder of my power, I realized that I was just getting started.
This was my game now, and Rohan was just a pawn.
But pawns can be sacrificed, and I was ready to do whatever it took to win.
After all, in a game of power and control, only the strongest survive.
And I was determined to be the strongest of all.
