Cheating woman’s long hair—cut with kitchen scissors & endless head-shaving sex
On the night he discovered her betrayal, the man swore he would never forgive. "Because I love you, I must punish you," he whispered—clutching the scissors in his hand. Her long, lustrous black hair fell away, strand by strand, as if to absorb the weight of his fury. Tears streamed down her cheeks, damp locks clinging to her skin. Each sharp cut echoed like fragments of love being torn apart. But the scissors were not the end. The sterile buzz of clippers shattered the silence of the night. With every pass, her shame deepened, her despair grew, and the very symbol of her womanhood was stripped away. And at last came the ritual of the cold razor. The biting steel against her skin—was it punishment, or salvation? With each relentless stroke, she felt her very existence being shaved away. Love and hatred entwined, until only two remained: the woman, bereft of hair, and the man, intoxicated by her ruined beauty. From that night onward, her hair would be shaven without end. —This is a tale of judgment, carried out in the name of love. 52p