Bad Haircuts 3

By the time Cindy’s appointment with Lisa came around, the strange new beauty routine had become part of her life.

At first, she had regarded the hot rollers as an unpleasant obligation that she endured to please Bill. Every morning meant getting up early, heating the rollers, spraying her hair with setting lotion, and rolling section after section of her newly shortened, roughly layered hair. Then came the teasing comb and the hairspray.

Lots of hairspray.  But Cindy had learned.

She could now produce a remarkably consistent set in very little time. She knew which sections needed the tightest rollers, how high to build the crown, and exactly how much teasing her hair could take before it became too large.  Cindy had submitted to the new ritual and become good at it

The purse-sized can of Ultra Hold spray had become almost a permanent fixture in her handbag.

Bill had insisted that Cindy respray whenever she brushed her hair during the day.  Cindy had only used the tiniest spritz of hairspray in the past, but had accepted the frequent spraying as part of her new ritual. She kept the little can in an outside pocket of her purse where it was easy to reach.

Cindy loved the reaction she got from Bill.  Her new look clearly turned him on.  He was forever stroking her stiff curls or nuzzling her neck to bury his face in her stiff, fragrant hair.  Bill got so excited that they made love in every room of the house.  Sometimes tenderly, and sometimes he was so aroused he just bent her over wherever they were and bred her like an animal.  She loved feeling so desired.

She knew it was the stiff curls and her growing dark roots.  She began to get moist every time she styled her hair, knowing what it would do to Bill.  Especially when she sprayed her hair.  It was becoming an addiction.

She sprayed in the ladies’ room before her first meeting.

She sprayed again after lunch.

If she caught sight of a curl that had fallen slightly out of place, she sprayed it.

Sometimes she would return to her desk smelling unmistakably of cheap hairspray, her panties moist.

Her coworkers noticed the change.

The first few weeks had been uncomfortable. People who had known Cindy with her long, sleek, expensive-looking blonde hair didn’t quite know what to make of the new version of her.

One colleague had stared at her enormous crown and finally asked, “Is your hair…different?”

Cindy had gone home that evening annoyed.

“They’re all staring at me.”

“You knew they would.”

“I know. But it’s different when you’re actually standing there and everyone is looking at you.”

Bill embraced her from behind.  “Tell the truth.  It turns you on when they stare, doesn’t it?”  He began to tweak her nipples and she felt his hardness against her bottom.

“Yesssss….” She panted.  “I know I look slutty with stiff curls and dark roots, but I get wet every time I spray my hair.  And I like it when the men can’t stop looking.  Some of them make excuses to accidentally touch my hair…”

“Embrace it and be yourself.  I love you this way.”  He turned her around for a deep kiss.  “Let’s go to bed.”

Even though she had accepted her new look, the peer pressure was intense.  But something unexpected happened.  She became defiant.

If people were going to stare, Cindy decided, she might as well give them something worth staring at.

Her skirts became shorter. Her heels became higher. Her makeup became more dramatic. She experimented with bolder eye makeup and brighter lipstick. The polished, restrained Cindy who had once spent hours at Max’s salon discussing the precise placement of a few subtle highlights was disappearing.  She was getting caught up in the change Bill and Lisa had forced on her.

And she stopped worrying about her growing dark roots.  Instead of disguising them, she began wearing her hair high up some days so that the darker band showed beneath the blonde cascade of curls.

One morning she examined herself in the mirror and said, almost defiantly, “I think the roots actually make it look better.”

“I agree.”

She smiled.

“I know you do.”

There was a new confidence in her voice.  Cindy wasn’t merely enduring her bad haircut anymore.  She was beginning to own it.  To crave it.  To need more.

What she didn’t know was that Bill was going to push her boundaries again.

It was finally time for her next appointment with Lisa.  Bill had delayed it several weeks so he could enjoy her dark roots.  Cindy still couldn’t quite believe she was going back to Supercuts to have her roots done.  It was so different from Max’s upscale salon.  No pampering.  No expensive products.  Just quick shearing and styling.  What would it be like to have her highlights touched up there?

Cindy dressed carefully, selecting one of her shorter mini dresses.  She knew that a hair appointment with Lisa would be a big turn on for Bill, and wanted to get him even more excited.  She got moist just imaging his reaction.  She smiled and selected thicker panties so she wouldn’t end up with a wet spot on her skirt.  Cindy decided to go braless and wear her highest heels.  As she applied shadow and eyeliner, she could see her hard nipples in the mirror.  The new, bolder Cindy was emerging.

The short drive was uneventful.  She arrived expecting nothing more dramatic than a touch-up and some fresh blonde highlights.

Lisa hadn’t changed in the intervening few weeks.  50ish, mildly overweight and smelled of cigarette smoke.  Her brassy bleached blonde hair was in a rough bob just above her shoulders.  It was wavy with a half grown out perm.  Her hair was clearly overprocessed.

Lisa took one look at her and immediately shook her head.

“No.”

Cindy blinked.

“No?”

“No. Come over here.”  Lisa grabbed a section of Cindy’s curls and lifted it.  “You’ve got all this weight underneath. That’s why your curls are dropping.”

“But I thought the layers you gave me were enough.”

“They aren’t.”  Lisa looked at Bill.  “Her hair needs to be layered more heavily.  We need to get rid of that unnecessary bulk.”

Bill said “that’s what I was thinking.”

Cindy looked worried.  “I thought I was just getting highlights.”  The thought of her cherished hair as “unnecessary bulk” was appalling.

“You are,” Lisa said briskly. “But we’re doing the haircut first.  And we’re not going to spend all afternoon talking about it. Supercuts isn’t Max’s salon.”

Max had always made Cindy’s appointments into an event. Her hair was washed slowly in a reclining chair. Expensive shampoo and conditioner were worked through it. There were careful consultations, head massages, treatments, multiple mirrors and endless attention to detail.

Lisa had none of that patience.  “Get in the chair.”  Cindy obeyed.

Lisa fastened the black vinyl cape around her neck and immediately began working on her hair.  “First, we get all this product out.”

Cindy looked uneasy and Lisa lead her to the shampoo station.

At the shampoo bowl, Lisa attacked the accumulated layers of gel, setting lotion, mousse and hairspray with vigorous efficiency. She worked the shampoo through Cindy’s hair quickly, rinsed it, shampooed it again, and finally conditioned it just enough to make it manageable.

There was no leisurely scalp massage.

No luxurious treatment.

No pampering.

Cindy noticed.

“Max used to spend almost an hour just preparing my hair.”

Lisa laughed.  “And that’s why he had to charge so much!”  She wrapped Cindy’s hair in a towel.  “Back in the chair.  We’ll get you cut and colored before you know it.”

Cindy returned to the station.

Lisa combed the freshly washed hair straight.  She divided the hair into broad working sections with quick, practiced movements, then picked up her styling razor.

Cindy’s expression changed.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Layers.”

Before Cindy could say anything else, Lisa started cutting.  The razor moved rapidly through the wet hair.  Long sections were lifted, sliced, dropped and immediately replaced by another section. Lisa worked from the back toward the sides, constantly moving, never pausing for the kind of deliberation Cindy remembered from Max.

Hair accumulated on the cape.  Cindy watched in the mirror, increasingly nervous.

“Lisa, that’s quite a lot.”

“I know.”

Another section came down.   The razor flashed through it.  Another wet, lifeless lock fell in Cindy’s lap.

“I don’t want to lose too much length.”

“You’re not losing length. You’re losing weight.”  Lisa immediately returned to the back.

Bill watched the transformation with growing enthusiasm.  He could see a heavily layered shag emerging.  It would be the perfect retro cut to go with the bold streaks he had in mind.  “Keep going, Lisa.”

Cindy looked at him.  “Bill!”

“You said you trusted her.”

“You said I was just getting highlights!”

Lisa laughed.  “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll still have plenty of hair.”  Then she attacked another section.

The rapid rhythm of the razor was intimidating. There was something almost mechanical about the process compared with Max’s careful, meticulous approach. The razor sliced effortlessly through her wet hair.  Lisa didn’t fuss over individual strands. She was building a shape.

“Isn’t razor cutting hard on my hair?”

Lisa said “it can produce a few split ends.”  Plop.  Another lock landed in her lap.  “But they let me go so fast.  Scissor cutting layers can be fussy and slow.  But I will use them on your bangs.”  She shifted to scissors and snipped across the middle of Cindy’s forehead, restoring her short, heavy bangs.

When she finally stepped back, Cindy barely recognized the structure of her hair.  Lisa combed through it.  “Much better.”  The shag had emerged.

Cindy stared at herself.

“It looks…different.”

“Good.”  Lisa didn’t give her time to dwell on it.  “Now we’re doing your color.”

She reached for a highlighting cap.

Cindy immediately frowned.

“A cap?”

“Yes.”

“Where are the foils?”

“Don’t need them.”

“But Max always uses foils.”

“I’m not Max.  And they take far too long.  It would cost you a fortune to do them that way.”  Lisa pulled the cap firmly over Cindy’s head.

Cindy winced.

“It feels tight.”

“It needs to.”  Lisa picked up the hook.  Each time she pulled a substantial amount of hair through, filling the holes in the cap completely.  These were not tiny strands.

Cindy watched.

“That’s a lot of hair.”

“Exactly.”  Lisa continued rapidly around the cap, continually pulling the maximum amount of hair through each opening.

Cindy looked at me.  “I thought we were doing subtle highlights.”

Bill smiled.  “Lisa suggested bolder and I thought it was a great idea.”

Lisa grinned.  “Subtle is Max’s department.”

Another large section came through the cap.  The result was already obvious. These weren’t going to be delicate ribbons of blonde.  They were going to be streaks.  Bold ones.  Lisa mixed the lightener and began applying it.  “Under the dryer, Cindy.  Now.”

Cindy sat rigidly beneath the processing heat, staring at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve never had anything like this.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

The timer seemed to move very slowly.  Lisa took Cindy back to the sink and rinsed out the bleach.  Then she applied a toner.  Then it was back to the styling chair for the big reveal.

When Lisa finally removed the cap, Cindy gasped.  The blonde streaks were dramatically brighter and substantially wider than her old highlights.  Against the darker blonde underlying layers of her hair, they were startling.

Cindy turned her head from side to side.

“They’re huge.”  On one hand, the bold streaks were dated and a bit trashy.  On the other, the bold look produced a warmth in her middle.

Bill smiled.  “They’re fantastic.  I loved the contrast of your dark roots but hated waiting for them to grow out.  Now you’ll always have bold streaks showing against the darker underlayer.”

“Bill, they’re nothing like my old highlights.  It’s such an artificial look!”  She turned her head to study her new color.  She began to tear up.  But her panties were wet.

“The kind of look that gets you excited” Bill said.  Cindy blushed.  It was obvious Bill was right.  Once again, Bill had taken her past her limits.  Chemical processing had been added to the ritual.  And bold streaks.

Lisa was already moving on.  “No time to admire it yet. We’ve got to style you.”

She worked quickly.

Mousse went through the newly layered hair.

Then the blow dryer.

Then rollers.

Then teasing.

Cindy barely had time to follow what was happening.

Lisa built the crown higher and wider, shaping the long layers into large curls. She teased sections with the comb and immediately fixed them with hairspray.

Spray.

Tease.

Spray.

Shape.

Spray again.

The process was fast and relentless.

The salon filled with the smell of hairspray.  Finally, Lisa stepped back.  For the first time since the haircut had begun, she stopped moving.  She simply stood behind Cindy’s chair and admired her work.  The transformation was remarkable.

Cindy’s hair was now a mass of enormous curls. The newly cut layers had produced curls at every level, from the high crown down through the sides and around the nape. Nothing lay flat. The crown rose dramatically above her head while broad banks of curls spread outward around her face.

The bold blonde streaks flashed through the darker under layers, making the curls look even more three-dimensional. Every turn of Cindy’s head revealed another streak winding through the masses of hair.

Lisa slowly walked around the chair.  “Look at that.”  Cindy stared at herself.  Lisa lifted one of the large curls and released it.  It barely moved.  “That’s what I call a style.”

The hair had taken on an almost artificial appearance from the amount of product. The surface of the curls was intensely glossy, each individual curl coated until it reflected the salon lights. The mousse had given them body, while the successive applications of hairspray had turned the entire structure remarkably firm.

Cindy cautiously touched the side of her hair.  “It feels like plastic.”

Lisa laughed.  “A style like this needs control.”  She ran her fingertips lightly over the outside of the crown, admiring the smooth, almost lacquered surface.  “I’ve got a beautiful shell on top and all these curls underneath. And look at those streaks.”

She turned Cindy’s chair slightly.  “The darker underneath really makes the blonde pop.”  Cindy looked at herself from the side.

“I’ve never had hair this big.”  Cindy stared at herself, almost unable to reconcile the woman in the mirror with the polished woman who had once left Max’s salon with perfectly smooth, understated hair.  Her new style was the complete opposite.  It was huge.  It was glossy.  It was stiff.  It was unapologetically dramatic.  She felt an unwanted moisture between her legs.  Her clit throbbed.

The curls seemed almost sculpted rather than merely styled, with each mass held firmly in place. The blonde streaks cut through the darker layers in broad flashes, emphasizing the the heavy layering Lisa had created with the razor.

Cindy struggled with her feelings.  Her new look was even more artificial than the last one.  The ritual was getting more complex.   Her color changed.  Her submission to Bill deeper.  And her arousal was nearly out of control.

Lisa seemed particularly pleased.   She walked around Cindy one more time, inspecting the back and sides.  “I really did a good job on those layers.”

She picked up the spray again.

Cindy groaned.

“Again?”

“Of course.”

Lisa gave the entire style another heavy coat.  “Now it’s ready.”

Cindy closed her eyes against the mist, then opened them and looked at herself again.

Lisa caught her expression.  “You like it.”

“I ahh…”  What could Cindy say.  She had big streaked blonde hair that just screamed “look at me in all my trashy glory!”  But her panties were sopping and her nipples hard.  It had been such a forced, dramatic change, but she had begun to love it.  No, crave it.  Need it.

Lisa studied the finished style again.  “You know, that contrast is going to look beautiful when we put this hair up.”

Cindy looked at her.  “Put it up?”

“An updo. All this blonde against the darker underneath. It’ll really show off the contrast.  I’ll do it the next time you two are ready for a night on the town.”

She studied the curls one last time.  “And after that, we’re going to have to talk about a perm.”

Cindy stared at her.

“A perm?”

“Yes. Your hair is curling beautifully now because of the cut and all the product, but if you want this kind of curl to hold properly, a perm will give us a much better foundation.  I’m thinking a nice tight 80s style perm so you could just wear it curly some days.”

Cindy’s stomach clenched at the thought of still more chemical processing.  What was happening to her?  But she began to get even more moist as she imagined Lisa rolling her hair on tight little rods and applying a strong smelling perm lotion.  She’d never had a perm, but the thought was intoxicating.  She imagined powerful chemicals forcing her hair to curl…

She snapped out of her reverie when she heard Bill say “Yes, I’ll bring her back in 3 weeks for her perm.  Thanks, Lisa!”

As Bill and Cindy walked back to his truck, he couldn’t keep his hands away from her stiff curls and bold streaks.  He put his arm around her and nuzzled her hair, taking in the heady smells of hair spray and bleach.

“I just love your new look.  Lisa made the streaks almost platinum so they really stand out.”  The stiff curls bounced with every step of Cindy’s high heels.  “And it will be so much fun to have you permed in a few weeks!”

Cindy was quiet until they reached the truck and they both got in.  She folded down the visor to look at herself in the tiny mirror.  She primped her hair, but it was so stiff nothing moved.  The wide highlights we a sharp contrast to her dark blonde natural color.  She felt a rising heat.

“Bill, I feel so different since you changed my hair.  I know I look slutty with a Supercuts hairstyle and bold streaks.  But I love it.  I feel so sexy and beautiful.  And horny.”  She began to massage him through his jeans.  She fumbled with his buckle and unzipped his pants.

“Really, Cindy?  Here in the parking lot?”

“I need it, Bill.  More than you can imagine.  Having sexy hair and clothes has made me wild.  I resisted as long as I could, but looking so slutty is such a turn on.  Watching Lisa streak and style my hair makes my pussy throb.     I need to have all my holes ravaged starting right now.  I don’t care if anyone sees us.”  Her curls bounced as her head bobbed.  Bill reached under her skirt and began to massage her clit.  “I want every drop of you in my mouth, and then I want you to take me home.  You’re going to bend me over the kitchen table and pound my ass until I scream!”

Bill leaned back and enjoyed her mouth as well as the salon scent that filled the cab.  He gripped her curls as he exploded in her mouth.  Cindy greedily lapped up every drop.  She humped his fingers and he felt a rush of moisture as she found release.

Bill thought “If a haircut and highlights did this, I can’t wait to see what she’s like after the perm!”