Coral’s Salon: Cara

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I should probably head in for the night. It’s getting dark, since the new moon has just begun. As I fumble with my keys to the shop, I feel a hand in my pocket, and swerve to confront the thief. She smiles broadly at me as I nearly crush her arm in my hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, with a generous amount of hostility.
“Oh, nothing…” she meanders. “I was just supposed to give you a note, but if you don’t want it, I’ll just tear it up, and we can go inside and do something else that’s more fun…”
I raise an eyebrow, but grab the piece of paper she’s holding without releasing her arm. The dim light makes it hard to read. Dammit. I try to open the door with my key, but holding the note in the light wind, holding the delinquent’s arm, and opening the door is impossible all at once.
I release her arm, and when she doesn’t immediately bolt, focus on opening my door. It pops open after a few seconds, but just as the door opens, she runs away from me.
I try to chase her down, but fall over a trash can almost immediately. That little bitch knocked it over in front of me.
I get up, scraped by the concrete. I’ll probably get bruises on my leg tomorrow too, but otherwise, I’m unharmed. I crumple the note in my hand, and go into my shop. At least it doesn’t feel like my wallet is missing. After closing and locking the door, and flipping a light, I jump into my chair to read whatever the stupid note says. I’m apparently bleeding from the face, because a little bit drops on the note- it says, “Play along, please. I heard from a friend that you’re a great dom that also knows how to style hair. When I come back, I want you to rough me up as much as you can without seriously hurting me, and give me an extreme cut- your choice what kind. I want to act antagonistically all the way through, as if I hate you and getting my hair cut- ignore it if I ask you to stop, or not to go so short, or anything- only actually stop if I use a safe word, banana.”

I ball up the note, and throw it in my trash can. If this was some roleplaying stunt, she could have at least told me instead of trying to hurt me. Stupid bitch.
I dress my minor wounds in the bathroom, and head to bed.

The next day, I don’t see her again. I do get to see the bandage over my nose in the mirror often enough to get irritated, though. When the sun starts to set, rather than sit outside, I lock my door and stay inside. Just after the sun is gone, I can hear a clattering outside, and cursing. There’s silence for a moment, before a knock on the shop door. I stand up slowly, and go to the door.
There’s another knock, even as I’m unlocking it. When I open the door, there’s a girl who I vaguely recognize from her silhouette in the doorway. Small frame, long hair, thick glasses. I lean in my door frame, and ask, “What do you want?”
She looks up at me, and her eyes get wider. It’s like she’s seeing me for the first time- she probably didn’t notice my bigger figure in the dark before.
I prod her more, asking, “Well?”
She shakes herself out of it, and takes a defiant stance, yelling at me, “My mom told me I had to get my hair cut, or she was going to cut all of it off herself with kitchen scissors. You should have gotten a note.”
I nod, and ask, “So you’re the one the note’s referring to? And are you the same little bitch that knocked over my trash can last night?”
She nods vigoursly, like she’s proud of it. I massage my temples, and ask, “You’re sure? And you’re eighteen, right? Because I could get in a lot of trouble for what I’m about to do if you’re not.”
She nods even more vigourously, and I smile, slightly. Party time.
I take her glasses, grab her by the hair, and throw her forward into the shop. She stumbles, and falls hard. I put her glasses gently on the window sill, and lock my door behind me.
When I turn around to look at her, she’s sprawled on her stomach. She has jet black hair spread all over everything, and her skirt is not covering her up. I go to pick her up, and she resists me, punching me in the mouth and yelling, “Fuck you!”.
Even though it hurts, I smile, and grab her arm. Her eyes get wider again, and she looks down. I force her onto her feet with her arm, pick her up by the waist, and carry her over to my chair.
She puts her hands on the armrests, trying to stop me from putting her down, but I kick her in the stomach, down into the chair. She stops resisting as much, but still not enough to be easy to work with, so I keep my knee on her crotch when she struggles to get up, while I fasten her arms down with straps. Based on the moisture soaking through my pant leg, I’m doing my job.
When her arms are restrained, I stand up again. She’s yanking her arms trying to get them free, and kicking her legs at me.
I wish the chair had leg straps, but I think quickly in the moment. I grab a roll of neck strips, grab her legs, and fasten them down with five layers of paper. I check their strength, and satisfied, finally lean on the counter. She’s red in the face, and still trying to struggle. I chuckle, and tell her, “You might as well at least enjoy this part, sweetie. You’re not going anywhere.”
I grab a brush, and walk to her. She’s finally stopped struggling, and has her eyes intensely on the brush. I hold up a bit of her hair, and brush it out, softly, slowly. She’s started to breathe harder as I brush the same bit several times, and I lean in closer as I take some from the back of her head to brush it as well.
“Sweetie,” I whisper to her, brushing the hair out, “You will have plenty of time to resist what I’m going to do to you soon. For now, just enjoy this.”
I blow in her ear, and she shivers and moans. I take her ear between my teeth as I move the brush over, and continue stroking through her hair with it. I run my second hand under her shirt, and feel her warm skin, pulling her closer the chair.
With a final glide through her hair, I pull the brush out, I pull my hand out of her shirt, and let go of her ear. She looks at me, and I smile impishly.
I walk, slowly, to my table, and put the brush down. I look at her eyes as I pull down my clippers, with the biggest guard possible on them.
She tells me, “No… you can’t cut my hair that short.”
I walk toward her with them, silently.
“Stop!” she tells me, “Stop!”
She starts struggling against her bondage again, when I tell her, “I can do whatever I want, and you can’t stop me. Those raven locks are coming off.”
She yells at the top of her lungs, and I cringe. That actually hurts.
I yell at her, “You know, girls who do shit like that just end up getting more shaved off than they would otherwise!”
She screams louder.
That was a stupid idea.
I put my hand over her mouth as I turn the clippers on, and put them near her ear. I let them vibrate against her head for a little while, before popping the guard off. It clatters off on the floor, and she tries to look at it. I put three fingers in her mouth, and use them with my hand to force her head down and to the side, not letting her know what just happened.
I grin as I put the clippers to the bottom right part of her head, and push them up through the black waterfall. A cute little strip of light brown skin and stubble is exposed more the farther up they go. When my clippers reach the top of her head, I flick the hair off them, and a pile of black hair falls onto her lap. At that moment, I realize I forgot to use a cape. Oh well. She’s more exposed this way.
I put my clippers on her head, a little to the left, and push them up through more black strands. At the top of her head, I flick the clippers toward her lap again, and another clump of black falls. I can feel her face getting hot, and her head trying to move to get a better view. I keep her exactly in place.
Another pass up her head dumps more hair into the pile on her lap, and I can hear her breathing quicken. Another pass sheds more hair, and she starts to struggle a bit more against me. I finish a last pass, and stop the clippers. I pull my hand off her face and out of her mouth, wipe it off on my apron, and stroke her stubble. It’s so velvety, all over the back of her head…
“W-what did you do?” she asks me, clearly overheating.
“I’m not done yet, but you’re getting something those in the profession like to call a Chelsea. You’re going to LOVE it. Trust me.”
I spin her to face me, holding the clippers in front of her face threateningly. I pop the clippers on, and push her bangs forward.
Just behind her bangs, the clippers buzz her down to the same velvet as the back of her head- I push the hair off onto her back and the floor behind her. I put a knee into her crotch again to get closer to her, and thrust my tits in her face as I make another pass to the left of the first. I can feel her making a puddle below me, and I smile as I make my third pass carefully, not hurting the bangs. I’m starting to feel the vibration in my hand when I run the clippers down the side of her head, pushing off everything left behind her ear. I quickly finish the other side, the same as the first, and turn my clippers off. I step off my sub to get a good look at her- the cut looks perfect. I ruffle her bangs as I step behind her, to my counter. I put the clippers down, and look around.
I’m planning to shave her, but looking on my tools, I get a better idea.
“Hey, sweetie. I’ve got an idea. This cut will look better and last longer if we put Nair on your head! It might hurt a lot more, though. Wanna try it~?”
I hear her yell, “Please! No!”.
That’s not the safe word, so I grab the bottle, grinning, along with a pair of rubber gloves. I lower her back so that her head can reach the sink, and look over her, asking, “Ready? Good.”
I spread a healthy amount over every buzzed part of her head, asking throughout, “Does that hurt? Does it burn? Hmm?”
She stops answering when tears start to bubble up her eyes.
When I’m done applying the cream, I pull my gloves off, and throw them on the counter. While it works its magic, I have a different idea.
I pull my sub’s skirt up, and her soaked panties down. I grin, before putting my tongue up against her clit.
Immediately, she squirts at me. I push my tongue in harder, and she cums harder. I hold her legs down, even though the paper strips are already doing so, while I pull my tongue up, never letting up the pressure. I can hear her panting above me.
I let my tongue off her, and lick my lips. She tastes good.
I lick her again, and lap her up several more times.

When I finally look at the clock, she’s shivering. The Nair has probably been on too long. I wonder if she’s shivering from pleasure or pain?

Either way, I go to her head, and wash it off. A stream of tiny hairs goes with the nair, and she appears not to be too badly burned. After thoroughly washing her head, I lazily wrap a warm towel around it, and whisper into her ear, “We’re just about done. Are you ready to get up?”
She nods at me, and I grab my scissors to cut the paper restraints on her feet. I unhook her arms directly after. She doesn’t get up immediately, and I offer her a hand when she does. She takes it, and steps down, shakily.
I pull the towel off her head, and rub the back. It feels soft on my hand. She moans, and almost falls.
I help her to a waiting chair, and grab her glasses for her. She puts them on, and looks at me.
“Thank you..” she whispers to me.
“Not a problem,” I tell her, nonchalantly. “Do you eat many strawberries? Because you totally taste like them. You’ve got a lucky lover.”
She blushes at me, and pouts, saying, “You wish you got to be my lover… more often… “
She stood up, and gave me a parcel with clinking coins in it.
I took her arm, and said, “Wait up. One more thing.”
She looks confused, before I put my hand up her skirt, and pull down her panties.
“These are mine, until at least further notice.”
She struggles with me, but eventually, I pull her panties off of her, and she’s not tall enough to take them back. I wave at her as she leaves, haughty, slamming my door. I chuckle as I lock it behind her.
I put a towel on my chair- I’ll clean it up more thoroughly tomorrow. I’ve done enough for tonight.

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