Ava takes Sara to the barber part 2

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Six months had passed since Sara’s initial high and tight haircut at the Oceanside military barbershop. During that time, she had nurtured her hair, allowing it to flourish into a long, sexy bob that tumbled down to her shoulders. She had spent countless hours at a trendy salon, adding luscious highlights and getting it stylishly shaped. Her confidence started to trickle back as she saw her reflection in the mirror gradually morph back into the woman she knew herself to be.

One sunny afternoon, Sara and Ava found themselves at a winery in Escondido. The day was progressing smoothly, the air filled with the sweet scent of ripening grapes and their conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine. However, Ava’s mood soured when she caught Sara innocently flirting with another woman at the wine bar. Tension filled the air as they left the bar, Ava seething with silent anger.

As they were driving through the city, Ava’s eyes caught sight of a nondescript building tucked between the vibrant town shops. A weathered signboard reading “Los Chorros Barbershop” hung precariously above its entrance. Ava pulled over abruptly, her decision made. With a venomous hiss at Sara to follow, she stormed into the barbershop.

Upon entering, Sara was hit by a wave of anxiety. The strong, familiar smell of hair products and disinfectants brought back haunting memories of her past experiences. The waiting area was cramped and furnished with worn-out, white plastic chairs. The barbershop’s run-down appearance and the faded posters of various haircuts plastered on its walls further intensified Sara’s growing apprehension.

Inside, they found a Spanish-speaking mother with her two children, a son and a daughter. The son, a young man in his mid-twenties, was already in the barber’s chair. Rosa, the sturdy, no-nonsense barber, was shearing his hair into a high and tight haircut. The son’s face was a picture of desolation as he mourned the loss of his hair. His sister, a woman around the same age, was next. Her long, beautiful hair was mercilessly chopped into a short bob that barely reached her ears, with the nape neatly clippered with a number two guard. She sobbed quietly as her locks fell to the floor, her sorrow echoing her brother’s.

It was then Sara’s turn. Ava, having realized that Rosa spoke no English, asked the boy’s mother to supervise Sara’s haircut and ensure it was as short as the boy’s. In return, Ava offered to pay for the family’s haircuts. The mother agreed, her eyes lighting up at the offer. Rosa, caped Sara in the chair, pumped it up and commanded in Spanish, “Estas siguiente” (You’re next).

Sara walked slowly to the chair her legs feeling wobbly. Rosa capes her and brushed out her long bob for the last time.

Sara’s protests fell on deaf ears as Rosa firmly took control, her grip strong on Sara’s head.

Rosa started with the clippers, and they buzzed loudly, filling the barbershop with an unnerving hum. As she moved them deftly up Sara’s sides, locks of highlighted hair fell to the floor, each strand a stark reminder of the feminine style that was being stripped away. With the sides and back buzzed down to the skin, Rosa switched to a straight razor to remove the remaining stubble, leaving Sara’s scalp raw and exposed. The top was then reduced to a stiff, quarter-inch strip, mirroring the boy’s haircut.

When Rosa was done, Sara’s reflection in the dusty mirror was a stranger. Her sexy bob was gone, replaced by a severe, military-style haircut. She barely recognized herself. The harsh fluorescent lights of the barbershop made her exposed scalp gleam, and the short strip of hair on top stood rigid, a cruel reminder of Ava’s control over her.

The sight of her new look was a brutal hit to Sara’s self-esteem. The butch look was in stark contrast to the feminine image she had carefully rebuilt over the past six months. She hated the harsh, unwomanly reflection staring back at her from the mirror. The clippers’ buzzing still echoed in her ears, their sound now a cruel reminder of her own transformation.

As Sara got up from the old, cracked leather chair, she looked at the floor. The sight of her hair, mixed with the hair of the siblings, was gut-wrenching. The barber, Rosa, let out a hearty laugh in Spanish, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she rubbed Sara’s buzzed head. She handed Sara a lollipop, a cruel imitation of a consolation prize.

The other customers in the barbershop stared at Sara, their eyes wide with surprise. She was an oddity, a woman who had willingly submitted herself to such a drastic transformation. But to Ava, Sara was a sight to behold. She seemed satisfied, her anger subsiding as she took in Sara’s new look.

The rest of the day was a blur for Sara. Ava’s satisfaction did nothing to soothe the raw pain of her own loss. She kept touching her shorn locks, each brush of her fingers over her scalp a harsh reminder of Ava’s control. She barely noticed the sunset or the laughter around her. Her mind was focused on one thing – her lost hair. Each time she closed her eyes, she could see her locks falling to the floor, hear the relentless buzzing of the clippers, and feel the cold touch of the straight razor on her scalp.

That night Ava played could not take her hands off Sara’s head as she rubbed the new butch haircut as Sara lay in bed sobbing . Ava was horny from the barbershop scene and insisted on fucking Sara that night despite Sara sobbing non stop.

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