Buzzcutfan
It had been ten long months since that fateful day in Tijuana when Sara’s hair was mercilessly sheared off in a dingy barbershop. Her once luscious locks had grown out into a chin-length bob, a testament to her determination to reclaim her femininity. Little did she know that her respite would be short-lived.
On this particular day, Sara and Ava found themselves enjoying a leisurely lunch at a sushi bar. The air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of fresh seafood and the gentle buzz of conversation. Sara’s spirits were high as she engaged in a friendly chat with the woman sitting next to her, oblivious to the brewing storm in Ava’s mind.
As they finished their meal, Ava’s face hardened with a mix of jealousy and resentment. Without a word, she abruptly paid the bill and grabbed Sara’s hand, leading her out of the restaurant with a sense of purpose. Sara’s confusion quickly turned to apprehension as they arrived home, Ava’s intentions becoming all too clear.
In their bedroom, Ava opened a drawer, retrieving a large butt plug that gleamed under the soft bedroom lights. Without any explanation, she ordered Sara to pull down her stretchy Lululemon pants and bend over. The sight of Ava wielding the imposing plug sent shivers down Sara’s spine.
Ava coated the plug with a liberal amount of lube, her touch clinical and detached. As she pressed the plug against Sara’s intimate area, Sara felt a mix of discomfort and anticipation. With a firm yet deliberate motion, Ava inserted the plug, stretching Sara in ways she had never imagined. The sensation was overwhelming, an uncomfortable intrusion that left her simultaneously aroused and unsettled.
But Ava’s plan didn’t end there. She reached back into the drawer and retrieved a vibrating dildo. Once again, she coated it with lube, ensuring that every inch was slick and ready. Sara’s breath hitched as Ava positioned the dildo and slowly pushed it inside her, setting it to a low, constant vibration. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through Sara’s body, further heightening her already heightened state.
Dressed again in her Lululemon pants, the fabric stretched uncomfortably against the intrusion of the butt plug. Every step she took sent a jolt of discomfort and pleasure coursing through her, a strange mixture that left her both on edge and strangely excited.
Their destination was Oceanside, a military town known for its barbershops. Ava had a particular one in mind, one where Sara’s transformation would be carried out with ruthless precision. As they drove, the road’s bumps and turns intensified Sara’s discomfort, the pressure from the butt plug a constant reminder of Ava’s control.
The barbershop was a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the sushi bar they had left behind. Its dimly lit interior exuded a sense of solemnity, the air heavy with the scent of hair products and the faint sound of buzzing clippers. The worn-out leather chairs in the waiting area creaked under the weight of anticipation and anxiety.
Sara’s heart pounded in her chest as she entered the barbershop, her senses heightened by the mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. The cold air sent a shiver down her spine, while the lingering scent of disinfectant brought back haunting memories of past experiences. The faded posters of various haircuts plastered on the walls seemed to mock her, serving as a reminder of the impending transformation that awaited
Welcome back, jarhead,” she sneered, her tone laced with both amusement and disdain. It was a reminder that she saw Sara not as a person, but as a plaything to be molded and controlled.
Wendy, the barber, stood behind the worn barber chair, her demeanor exuding an air of cold detachment. She wore a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and her black hair was cut into a harsh buzzcut, mirroring the very style she was about to inflict upon Sara. Her eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and a hint of sadistic pleasure.
As Sara took her seat in the barber chair, the unforgiving vinyl clung to her skin, amplifying her unease.
Without warning, Wendy’s hand firmly grasped the back of Sara’s head, pressing it down with a force that sent a jolt of pain through her scalp. The unyielding grip held her head in place, denying her even the slightest chance to resist or pull away. It was a display of power and dominance, a cruel reminder of the control that Wendy had over her.
As the clippers came back to life, their relentless buzzing filled the air once again. Wendy’s hand remained firmly planted on Sara’s head, guiding the clippers with a ruthless precision. The teeth of the clippers bit into her scalp, the vibrations sending a tingling sensation across her bare skin. The combination of pain and pleasure created a surreal experience, intensifying the conflicting emotions swirling within her.
With each pass of the clippers, Wendy pushed Sara’s head down further, forcing her to submit to the brutal shearing. The weight of Wendy’s hand, combined with the hum of the clippers, created a suffocating atmosphere, amplifying the sense of vulnerability and helplessness that Sara felt. It was a constant reminder of her position, stripped of her autonomy and at the mercy of the barber’s whims.
As the haircut progressed, Sara’s body became a canvas for Wendy’s merciless artistry. The clippers carved sharp lines into her scalp, creating the defined boundaries of the high and tight cut. The sound of hair being severed filled the air, mingling with Sara’s stifled sobs. It was a symphony of transformation, a painful symphony that left her feeling exposed and utterly transformed.
Throughout the ordeal, Wendy’s grip remained unyielding, her touch a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play. The combination of the buzzing clippers, the forceful pressure on her head, and the emotional weight of the situation overwhelmed Sara’s senses. She was caught between the pain of the haircut and the twisted pleasure of her arousal, the dichotomy creating a maelstrom of conflicting sensations.
Finally, when Wendy deemed the haircut complete, she released her grip on Sara’s head. Her hand, once a vice-like grip, retreated, leaving Sara feeling momentarily unsteady and vulnerable. The harsh fluorescent lights of the barbershop illuminated her exposed scalp, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that raged within her.
Sara’s body trembled as Wendy removed the cape, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. The combination of physical pain from the haircut, emotional turmoil, and the intoxicating vibrations of the dildo left her breathless and shaken. She couldn’t help but feel a twisted mix of humiliation, arousal, and an unexplainable craving for more.
As they embarked on the car ride home, the atmosphere inside the vehicle was heavy with an unsettling mix of tension, discomfort, and arousal. Ava’s hand wandered towards Sara’s freshly shorn head, her fingertips grazing the stubble that now covered Sara’s scalp. With a cruel smile, she traced the harsh lines of the high and tight, relishing in the power she held over Sara’s appearance.
Meanwhile, the discomfort from the butt plug persisted, each bump in the road sending a jolt of pain and pressure through Sara’s body. The constant vibration from the dildo added another layer of sensation, teasing and arousing her despite the overwhelming discomfort she was experiencing.
As Sara gazed out of the window, she struggled to process the conflicting emotions coursing through her. The pain and discomfort from the butt plug served as a constant reminder of her submission to Ava’s dominance. Yet, mingled with that discomfort was an undeniable arousal brought on by the relentless vibrations of the dildo. It was a twisted cocktail of sensations that left her both physically and emotionally conflicted.
Ava, seated beside her, took advantage of the close proximity. Her fingers traced a path along the stubble on Sara’s scalp, sending shivers down her spine. The touch was cold and calculated, a reminder of her new butch appearance and Ava’s satisfaction in wielding power over her. “You look so butch now,” Ava remarked with a chillingly indifferent tone, relishing in the emotional turmoil that her words provoked.
Despite the discomfort and emotional turmoil, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that coursed through Sara’s veins. The vibrating dildo hidden within her added a pulsating pleasure, contrasting with the discomfort of the buttplug. The sensations intermingled, creating a twisted dance of pleasure and pain within her body. It was an overwhelming mix of conflicting sensations that she struggled to reconcile.
As the car journey continued, Sara found herself lost in a whirlwind of emotions. The relentless vibrations of the dildo against her most sensitive areas pushed her to the edge of pleasure, the intensity building with each passing moment. She fought against the conflicting sensations, torn between the desire to resist and the undeniable pleasure that threatened to consume her.
Finally, as the stimulation reached its peak, Sara could no longer hold back. A wave of pleasure washed over her, starting from the depths of her being and radiating throughout her body. It was a climax that defied all reason, a release that contrasted with the discomfort and emotional turmoil she had endured throughout the day. The conflicting sensations merged into a symphony of ecstasy, leaving her breathless and trembling.
As the climax subsided, Sara was left emotionally and physically spent. The dichotomy of pleasure and discomfort, dominance and submission, had pushed her to her limits. Her body felt drained, yet a newfound sense of liberation coursed through her veins. In that moment, she realized that the journey she had embarked on with Ava had forever altered her perception of herself and her desires.
The car finally arrived at their destination, and Sara stepped out, her legs feeling weak. She looked back at the reflection of the woman she once was, the one who had innocently flirted at the sushi bar earlier in the day. The image staring back at her was transformed—a woman with a severe high and tight haircut, her tanned skin contrasting with the stark whiteness of her exposed scalp. It was a visual representation of the power dynamics that had shaped her, the arousal and surrender that had consumed her.
As Sara walked towards her front door, she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of apprehension and curiosity about what lay ahead.
