HairApparent
Opposition
‘Jasmine, whatever have you done to your hair now?’ my astonished colleague Carla asked when I returned from Eva following my first flattop haircut.
‘Just felt like another change, Carla,’ I replied simply. ‘I had had that style for nearly six months.’
‘I had just about got used to seeing you with a pudding bowl haircut,’ Carla sighed in exasperation. ‘And now it seems you are preparing yourself to join the army.’
I laughed dismissively to dissuade her from further interrogation. Eva had barbered me the previous evening and it had been difficult for me to come to terms with having such ridiculously short hair.
‘You should have let it grow out a bit and get a nice bob like me,’ Carla advised, primping her thin and badly layered shoulder length hair. Not too short, but not too long.’
I simply smiled and continued to my office. I had a great temptation to tell my colleague to pay Eva a visit. But I did not want her, or anyone I knew, to be privy to my developing relationship with my barber, however strange that connection might be.
I was a private person, and I did not want Eva to meet anyone I knew. However, unknown to me at that time, everything was about to change.
Evaluation
Before returning to Eva for my weekly appointment the following Monday, she had insisted I purchase a white dress that buttoned up the front. Following my polite suggestion, we had moved to the next stage of our relationship. And, with that, Eva had specified a new outfit for me to wear when I visited her.
I had grown to appreciate the humbling power of my schoolboy uniform that Eva had required me to wear for my weekly appointment for five months. However, I would find the opportunity to wear a nice dress to meet my barber far less humiliating.
I had perused the online stores of my favourite designer prior to my next appointment. I had ordered a selection of white dresses that met her specification. When trying them on, I had found them all plain and ordinary. Along with my precise and austere flattop haircut, the bland white dresses gave my appearance a decidedly clinical edge. But Eva had insisted.
Following the weekly routine of the previous five months, I had changed my outfit in the private cloakroom on Monday afternoon before leaving work. I had completely covered the white dress with a coat to avoid my colleagues seeing me dressed so an uncharacteristically.
Stood outside Barbered by Eva at 4.59pm, I removed my coat, adjusted my white dress, and walked inside.
‘Very smart, Jazzy,’ Eva said in greeting, nodding her approval.
I wanted to discuss my mild dilemma of not knowing which of the half a dozen expensive, but similar, alternatives I should have worn. It was of no great concern but, for once, I had hoped we could enter a conversation when I arrived for my appointment. ‘I was unsure -’
‘Downstairs!’ Eva snapped, dashing my hopes for greater informality. ‘Wait for me. By the chair.’
I had only been down to her subterranean apartment once before. A week earlier she had taken me down there and transformed my appearance. She had sheared away my severe bowlcut, without any discussion, leaving me with a drastic flattop style.
I stood to attention by the chair as I knew Eva would wish to inspect me closely as soon as she appeared. She had given me that clear indication the previous week.
Inspection
Minutes passed, standing to attention in Eva’s basement, maintaining my rigid pose. I ached and grew tired, but it was what my barber expected.
After ten minutes, it would have been tempting to sit, but experience had shown that it was best not to diverge from Eva’s precise directives.
After twenty minutes, I heard the tap of Eva’s heels on the concrete steps that led down from the shop. As I had left work early and arrived on time for my appointment, I was disappointed that Eva was so unpunctual. I would have reprimanded any of my underlings at work if they were so tardy and impolite. Still, I accepted that whatever had delayed her must have been important and I looked forward to receiving an apology when she eventually reached the bottom of the staircase.
When she appeared in the basement, Eva walked straight towards me. I straightened my back further, preparing myself for inspection. The barber circled me slowly, more than once, without saying a word. She stopped in front of me and leant forward. Momentarily, I wondered if Eva would reward my patience with a kiss.
I closed my eyes and held my breath. I felt her hands slowly unbuttoning my dress from the neck downwards. As her fingers passed my breasts, she momentarily caressed them causing my nipples to immediately respond to her gentle touch. Continuing her task, she eventually released all the buttons. She eased the dress off my shoulders, and it fell to the floor, leaving me standing in my flimsy silk and lace underwear.
She circled me once more, nodding appreciatively at my appearance before motioning me to sit in her chair.
After my astonishment a week earlier, I was prepared for what would happen next. However, I still felt a terrific jolt of excitement, laced with a degree of fear, as Eva fastened the strong restraints to my limbs to prevent me from moving in the chair.
She did not apologise for keeping me waiting. It was rude of her. I wondered if I should raise the issue. But, truthfully, at that moment, unable to move, I no longer cared.
Restoration
‘You have allowed your hair to grow too long during the past week, Jazzy,’ Eva complained.
I was extremely irritated, wondering how she had expected me to limit its growth. She was being unfair. I was about to remonstrate with her when she ran her fingertips along the velvet-like stubble on my nape.
‘Mm,’ I moaned appreciatively, as she continued fingering my neck. ‘Yes, I am sorry, Miss.’
‘I wonder if we should consider more drastic measures to slow or even prevent the growth of your hair on the back and sides of your head,’ Eva mused. ‘I have a variety of mechanical, electrical, and chemical methods at my disposal in my toy cupboard, Jazzy, and, she giggled, ‘last week you did ask if we could play with my toys.’
Trying hard not to imagine all the techniques she had of removing hair on the head, as well as other parts of the body, I still gave an involuntary shudder.
‘Some are painful but produce a wonderfully smooth, longer lasting finish,’ Eva smirked.
‘I am happy for you to repeat what you did last time,’ I interjected, anxious to distract Eva from considering the alternatives.
‘Your happiness is not a consideration, Jazzy,’ Eva huffed, wandering over to her toy shelf. She picked up a jar containing a blue substance and studied the label. It was too far for me to make out the words. ‘Whatever methods I choose to employ are my decision, and my decision alone,’ she added pointedly. ‘Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ I promptly replied. ‘I am very sorry, Miss.’
She acknowledged my apology with a curt nod, returning the jar to the shelf and retrieving an item of a comparable size to a comb. ‘Today I will use a freshly sharpened cut-throat razor to shave the back and sides of your head down to the bone. Hopefully, your haircut will remain fresher for longer,’ she admonished, waving the razor in warning. ‘However, if it does not work as we hope, then we can consider other methods in due course.’
‘Thank you, Miss,’ I said, breathing a huge sigh of relief at having avoided the application a depilatory cream or something similar.
‘And I see the hair on the crown is not standing erect as it was a week ago,’ Eva noted. ‘I will trim it shorter this week.’
The longest hair on my crown after my first flattop had been little more than two centimetres, with the rest a great deal less. The graduation of each strand produced a perfectly level surface. I had ready excuses for why it was so short for anyone who commented. My reasons appeared to satisfy the curious. However, if she cut it any shorter it would look too extreme.
‘No, I -’
‘I will pretend I did not hear that, Jazzy,’ Eva barked threateningly, ‘or …’
‘Sorry, Miss,’ I said, quickly apologising to dissuade Eva from considering other courses of action whose consequence could be even worse. ‘You know what is best for me.’
Without acknowledging my grovelling apology, Eva set to work, starting with the brush-like crown. Using a comb as a guide, she ran the clattering hairclippers back and forth and from side to side, diligently carving my hair into a precise flattop.
A week earlier, when Eva had transformed my hair, the mirror had remained covered. However, this time I could see the small snippets of hair flying up as she levelled the surface of my flattop. As promised, it was noticeably shorter than a week before. But, to my great relief, it still erred to resembling a short style rather than a buzzcut.
With the on my crown trimmed to Eva’s satisfaction, she put down her tools. Filling a bowl, she slapped copious quantities of shaving cream on the bristly back and sides my head. She thoroughly massaged the foam with her fingertips, an addictive sensation without comparison. I melted under her firm touch.
Eva then brandished the old-fashioned cut-throat razor, dextrously flicking out the blade that looked as sharp as it was shiny. In short deft strokes, she swiftly and efficiently began scraping away the foam.
Unlike last time, I could watch her at work in the mirror. The mirror reflected her unbroken concentration as she diligently shaved the back and sides of my head. Each patch that she bared glowed pink as the razor scraped over it, before the skin resumed its pristine white glow.
The sound and sensation of the passage of the blade were completely different to the safety razor of the previous week. Seven days earlier I had heard a continuous rasping as she revealed my skin after multiple strokes over each section. With the “unsafe” razor, I heard a single swish before she revealed stark whiteness, testimony to the blade’s sharpness and Eva’s skill. The experience was much more clinical, but my pleasure was dramatically heightened.
All too soon, Eva had completed the refresh of my flattop haircut. It was incredibly smart, extremely precise, and extraordinarily short. The procedure was far quicker than it had been to trim my precision bowlcut each week. I silently pined for that previous style as, at each appointment, it would allow me to remain under Eva’s subjugation for longer.
Subjugation
I had been incredibly excited by Eva shaving the back and sides of my head. However, the swift procedure had not allowed me to reach the peak of arousal as I had so easily before. With less time and the inability to move my hands, I had been frustrated by not being able to fuel my plateaued arousal. I had bitten my lip, my breathing had increased, and I had focused my mind on satisfying myself. But all to no avail. I was a messy bundle of frustration.
Eva stood back and studied me carefully. Her smirk suggested she recognised my distress and my resulting disappointment. However, she scrutinised me with dispassionate, almost academic, interest, as if I were a mildly interesting specimen requiring careful examination.
As I always, I knew it was unwise to speak to Eva unless she spoken to me first. So, I silently pleaded with her, using wide and eyes and a broad smile, to encourage her to facilitate my fulfilment.
After a fleeting period, Eva wandered back to the area of the apartment that she termed her toy shelf. I saw her examining the objects on display, making me feel nervous after her previous perusal of the items on display. She selected one, hidden from my view, and then, grinning broadly, glided back towards me.
Kneeling in front of me, appearing subservient, was not what I had expected from Eva. The anticipation of what might be to come, dramatically boosted my level of excitement.
With the chest restraint holding me upright, preventing me from looking down, my frustration increased. However, I heard, then felt, a device snap into place in the seat of the chair. Following the sound, I experienced a pressure between my thighs, accompanied by a persistent vibration. I licked my lips, then smiled.
I observed Eva holding a device like a TV remote-control. She stabbed at it a couple of times and the delightful sensation between my legs increased. Eva moved behind me and ran her fingernails repeatedly along my nape. She alternated that with running her palm along the top of the erect bristles on my crown. Her movement was in concert with the vibration below.
‘Your neck is completely bare,’ Eva whispered provocatively, as an accompaniment to her action. ‘The sides of your head are totally bald,’ she continued. ‘The only remaining hair on your head is stiff like a brush.’
I was experiencing a symphony of stimulation, sensation, and emotion. All pandering to my deepest desires. I did not want the experience to end. However, much quicker than I had wished, I trembled long, and I shuddered hard. Pulling against my restraints, I cried out uncontrollably as a tsunami of intense pleasure coursed through my body.
Through my lidded eyes, I saw Eva smirking with detached interest.
Eventually my breathing returned to normal and the idiotic smile that had formed on my lips had begun to fade. Wordlessly, Eva released my restraints and, shakily, I rose to my feet. I prayed that her unexpected and immensely pleasurable augmentation of the proceedings signified a change in our relationship. A move to the next level.
I daringly draped myself over Eva’s chair, wearing just my pretty underwear, provocatively running my hand along my denuded nape. Hoping that everything I was doing was encouraging her to become more enamoured with me, I smiled and ran my tongue over my lips.
Without warning, she retrieved my unbuttoned white dress and held it open between us. It functioned as a modesty screen where neither of us could see the other. It seemed so unfair, and I did not know what to do.
‘Arms!’ Eva barked from behind my dress that she held out wide.
With great reluctance I slid my arms into their openings, and Eva hoisted the dress onto my shoulders, before spinning me around to face her. Momentarily we were eye to eye, and my heart fluttered, then she knelt in front of me. Although I hoped her subservient position might be the prelude to something exciting, she soon dashed my hopes.
Starting at the hem of my dress, Eva fastened one button, and then the next, until her dextrous fingers were level with my breasts. She briefly cupped them, sighed, then continued to button the dress all the way up to my neck.
‘You will return at 5pm next Monday, Jazzy,’ Eva, ‘and I -’
I had been down in the basement with Eva for less than twenty minutes, after she had kept me waiting for a similar time. Previously my appointments with Eva had lasted more than an hour, so I felt short changed. I was not ready to leave. Having embarked on the next stage of our relationship, I had anticipated that there would be more time for us to relax and get to know each other better.
My innate sense of entitlement – diminished in Eva’s presence by her powerful and carefully-judged actions – resurfaced vigorously. Unquestionably, I deserved more. ‘But, Eva, I was hoping -’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Eva barked, loudly and indignantly.
‘Well, it’s just -’
‘Do not interrupt me, Jazzy!’ she yelled. ‘What an inexperienced person such as yourself might, or might not, be hoping is irrelevant!’ she added furiously, the pitch of her voice rising with each word.
‘Sorry, Miss,’ I grovelled, desperate not to upset Eva. To do so might prevent me ever again enjoying the wonderful periods of bliss that I had experienced during my appointments.
‘Hmm, Jazzy, I wonder whether you are quite ready for the next stage. The one I had in mind, ‘Eva murmured, finger on chin and head to one side, examining me closely.
‘I am, Miss,’ I claimed eagerly, nodding my head repeatedly for emphasis. ‘Really I am.’
‘Very well,’ Eva breathed, moving closer and placing one hand on my right breast with the fingertips of the other cradling the bare skin of my nape. Despite my recent powerful experience, she was turning me on once again. ‘As I was about to say, Jazzy, you will return at 5pm next Monday with an attractive young woman with long hair who will allow me to cut it short.’
I was confused. ‘Who do you mean, Miss?’ I asked, not knowing who she had in mind.
‘It may be a colleague from work … an “underling” as you unkindly refer to them … or a friend … or even a stranger if you wish,’ Eva chuckled as she considered my options. ‘The choice is wide, Jazzy … but that choice is yours.’
I was dumbstruck. Meeting Eva’s requirements seemed impossible. I contemplated the intense enjoyment I experienced in Eva’s company. Did that feeling outweigh the stress and uncertainty between times, I considered, especially given Eva’s coldness towards me. On balance, I decided it was time for me to bring the period of indulgent madness to an end.
If we had genuinely moved to a new stage in our relationship as I had expected after the revelations of a week earlier, than she might have convinced me to play her game. With regret, I decided it was time to search for my kicks elsewhere.
Decision
Eva motioned for me to climb the stairs from the basement. While I ascended, I turned over the pros and cons of my decision, concluding it was correct as I reached the top.
I donned my coat and walked to the door of her shop, which Eva opened for me. As she still expected me to return the following week, I felt it necessary and polite to inform her that it had been my final appointment. I took a deep breath, and I opened my mouth to speak.
‘I look forward to you returning next week, Jazzy,’ Eva smiled. ‘Dressed as you are and accompanied by a suitable candidate whose hair I will restyle.’
I opened my mouth again, but Eva continued with pausing.
‘Then, once I have completed her haircut, I was wondering if you might consider remaining behind to share a meal and a bottle of wine?’ Eva asked, her smile broadening. ‘You may even wish to contemplate staying the night?’
I gulped. Eva’s proposal had stunned me. The next stage, at last!
Regretfully, I forced myself to recall that I had made my decision not to return. And a decision made by analysing all the relevant information, is a decision that one should not change without revisiting all the ramifications. I had succeeded in business for so many years by holding firm on my choices, immune to the influence of others, and never wavering. If only Eva had said something earlier. It was such a shame.
‘Thank you, Miss,’ I confirmed, standing smartly to attention after the briefest of pauses. ‘We will be here at 5pm next Monday and I will be wearing my crisp white buttoned-up dress.’
In no time at all, Eva had skilfully manipulated me into reversing my decision. I wondered if she knew how accomplished she was. I had an inkling that she did, but, at that moment, nothing else mattered. The only thing that was important was the chance to spend an evening of quality time with Eva, or even the whole night.
‘If you are not here at the appointed hour,’ Eva warned menacingly, disturbing me from my daydream, ‘then do not ever return.’
Before I could remonstrate or even comment on her unfairness, Eva closed the door in my face.
To Be Continued
