Don’t Argue With Me

Note: This one is a bit more explicit than my previous stories.

-Part One

Stephany was reclined in the middle of our bed, relaxed with her hands behind her head.  I was on my knees at the edge of the bed, balancing precariously.  I was 4 fingers deep inside Steph with one hand, and using the other hand to keep myself up at the right angle so that I could suck and nibble her nipples.

So when a little hair fell into my face, and started sticking to the cum and spit on it, I didn’t have a free hand to brush it away.  At first I tried blowing it away, but not only did that not help, but the action caused more to come loose from where I had tucked it behind my ear. Soon my face and Steph’s breast were both covered in hair that clung to the stickiness.

“Could you give me a hand here?”  I asked as I tried to look at Steph through the tangles.

“We need to do something about this” Steph scolded as she started pulling my hair back and tucking it behind my ear where it belonged.

“I guess I’m in for a paddling, since I was a naughty girl and didn’t put my hair back like I was supposed to.” I said trying to do the pouty thing even though there was way too much hair stuck to my face to pull it off.

“Oh you’re definitely getting a paddling, baby girl.” Steph scolded as she tucked the last stray hair back. “I worry it’s not enough though to keep such a messy naughty girl as you in line though.”

“Maybe you will need to paddle me a few times.” I said finally pouting properly.

“Perhaps,” Steph said with an evil smile that made me melt. “This isn’t the first time I have had to paddle you about this.”

“Well I am a very dirty girl, so I need a lot of disciplining.” I said before I got back to the task of sucking Steph’s rock hard nipple.

Steph and I didn’t start off with a formal sub/dom relationship, it just kinda happened organically.  She was a little older, and a lot more experienced, which was part of it.  I think it was mostly our personalities though that took us in that direction. We mostly kept it to the bedroom, though we did let it out a little at certain kinds of adult parties and such.

My hair in my face had actually been what set off the very first time we had played around with punishment.  It had been early in our relationship.  Inexperienced as I was with women, I had never really used my mouth all that much for intimacy, and certainly never when both of my hands were occupied.  Kink was something I was used to, though. With men, I had always used a little kink to get me enough in the mood to convince myself I wanted to sleep with them. So when my hair got all stuck to my face, and Steph was annoyed, I just started playing the sub and suggested she should spank me to teach me not to annoy her.

This day, the sex had been too spontaneose for me to have planned ahead and put my hair up. 

It took Steph a little bit to recover from the interruption and finally orgasm.  After she finally did, I lay next to her, my muscles too sore from the awkward position to be thinking about round two.  As I lay there, she reached down and started gently stroking my wetness with one hand while tugging my hair, which once again covered my face in a tangled mess, back with her other hand.  

At this point having orgasmed earlier, I was only mildly wet.  I was mostly just tired and content as Steph’s warm fingers explored my folds.

“Oh what am I going to do with such a messy girl like you.” She whispered in my ear. “I don’t think a paddling will be nearly enough.”

“Oh, do I need to be humiliated too?” I asked a little sleepily. “Should I loose my clothing privileges again and have to spend the whole weekend in that chilly negligee again?”

“I was thinking of something a little more permanent.” She purred in my ear. As she gave my hair a particularly hard tug. “Maybe we should get all this chopped off.”

Suddenly I was very awake as several things happened all at once.  My stomach did a somersault, I broke out in a cold sweat, my ears started ringing.  Things happened down below too though.  My clit was suddenly very swollen and I was practically gushing.

“Hmmm, well that’s interesting.” Steph said as she felt what had changed under her fingers. “I see that got your attention much more than a little spanking. Just be a good neat and tidy baby girl who always keeps her hair out of her face, and I won’t have to resort to such a drastic punishment. I guess you’re ready for round two.”

-Part Two

A few weeks later on a saturday morning, Steph woke me up early, wanting sex. She’d always been more of a morning person than me, and being nuzzled awake on weekends wasn’t unusual. This morning, it felt a little extra premeditated.

She was already showered. Her short pale blond hair slick still with water.  She was quite the sight to behold in nothing but a thin bathrobe barely concealing her pert breasts. She had already brushed her teeth and there wasn’t a hair out of place. Though it had obviously been combed after the shower, it generally just fell into place pretty easily anyway. She had the classic easy to style long enough to flip around on top, but cropped short on the sides hairstyle. I had never seen Steph with bedhead.

I on the contrary was a mess, as was pretty normal for me on a saturday morning.  My loose brown hair was strewn over the pillow in a tangled jumble.  My hair was pretty long, down to the bottom of my ribcage, with a few layers. When it was clean and styled, the chocolate brown waves were quite attractive. First thing in the morning with a bad case of bedhead, not so much. I was still sweaty from our Friday night love making too.

Steph soon had me awake and on top of her as she lay back. We each had a couple of fingers inside each other.  I was propped up on my free hand so I could look down at Steph’s face as we simultaneously finger fucked.

Of course my tangled dark locks hung down over my shoulders and into her face. She reached up and pulled my hair into a bundle with her free hand, as she started going faster and harder with her fingers.

“That’s the last straw.” Steph said sternly, and punctuated each word with a tug of my hair. “This sloppy mess has to go.”

I orgasmed so hard, I pretty much fell to jelly as I collapsed next to Steph.  She let me just lay there panting for a few minutes.

“Come on you lazy girl.” Steph eventually ordered. “You need to go get into the shower.”

“It’s Saturday, I can sleep in.” I muttered as I started pulling the sheet over my naked form.

“Don’t argue with me.” Steph ordered and gave my still exposed butt cheek a firm slap. “You’re a mess and something must be done about it. Now go get into that shower.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said as I got up and grabbed my robe from the foot of the bed. It was obvious Mistress Stephany meant business.

-Part Three

When I emerged from the shower, I found that Steph had laid out my clothing for me.  The foundation layer was my white corset.  Also the matching white panties with enough lace to make them a little itchy but barely enough fabric to properly cover what panties are supposed to. And finally the white garter belt.

“Call me when you are ready to have me tie up your corset.” Steph called from the kitchen.

Next to the foundation layer, there was a silky white full slip.  Plus actual stocking, not panty hose.

Finally there was my top layer, a simple sky blue sleeveless sundress with ever so innocent looking daisies.  Steph had once referred to that dress as my “virgin maiden costume.”

I put on the panties and corset, and called Steph in to tighten my laces.

She was already dressed when she came in.  She wore an impeccably tailored charcoal pants suit with thin black pinstriping. Under it, she wore a deep red blouse that showed just a hint of cleavage. At the exact right angle, I could catch a glimpse of her black lace bra.  She had even done her makeup, though she usually skipped it on weekends. That suit was an outfit she usually only pulled out of the closet when she felt like reminding everyone at work that she was the boss.

“Can you breath?” Steph asked as she tugged.

“Yes.” I replied.

“How about now?” She asked again after she pulled them quite a bit tighter.

“Just barely.” I gasped.

“Just barely what?” Steph asked as she gave the ribbons and extra tug.

“Just barely, MA’AM.” I uttered with what little breath I could suck in.

“Good.” She said as she eased up on them ever so slightly.  She tied the bow and let go of the ribbons. “Now finish getting dressed, so that we can get going. I have an appointment and you are going to accompany me.”

As I pulled on the slip, fastened my garters to my stocking then finally slid into the dress, I knew that it was not just going to be a day of ordinary errands.  So I carefully blow dried my hair with a large round brush. My shiny healthy hair hung down like the spill from a chocolate fountain. While I usually liked to fluff it up and let it dry naturally to bring out the waves, the smoother not a hair out of place neatly turned under look I could achieve with the round brush fit better with the vibe of the blue sundress. I even put on a little mascara and lip balm.

“You took forever getting ready.” Stephany scolded me when I sat at the kitchen table and eyed the blueberry muffins. “I suppose it was styling all that hair that took so long, and it still looks all messy just hanging there loose like that. You should have put it up neatly.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” I said contritely. “I’ll go fix it now.”

“No,” Steph said sternly, “There’s no time left for that.  You may take a muffin to eat in the car.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Steph handed me my white wool cardigan as we walked out the door.  The wool was going to be scratchy against my bare arms and shoulders, but at least I wouldn’t be shivering in the air conditioning.

Steph drove as I carefully ate my muffin.

“I have a hair appointment.” Steph announced about three blocks from the house.

“Are you getting something new?” I asked tentatively. “Did you want me to come along for moral support?”

“Just my usual monthly clean up.” She said casually. “I thought we could get yours neatened up a bit while we’re there, it’s so out of control.”

“I don’t need a haircut, I just got it trimmed two weeks ago.” I said meekly, my heart pounding. There were reasons I went to my salon instead of the barbershop Steph prefered. “I promise I will keep it neater from now on.”

“Don’t argue with me.” Steph scowled. “I didn’t say ‘haircut’ did I?”

“No ma’am.”

“I said ‘neatened up,’ right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I said relaxing.

“Now that you have suggested it though,” Steph said in a fake thoughtful manner. “A bit off the bottom would definitely be neater.”

Steph was smiling now like the cat that ate the canary. She was playing with me, like I was a catnip mouse. Toying with my feelings.

We arrived at the shop Stephany was a regular at.  Nicklas & Nichole’s Barbershop.  It was well known as the no judgement barbershop for the local queer community.  You’re a drag queen and you want a new style for your wig? Come on in.  Steph’s barber Nichole was also well known for specializing in short and butch.

“Steph I really don’t want to…”

“Are you arguing with me again?” Steph interrupted me, and waited for me to respond with a raised eyebrow.

“No, ma’am.” My voice broke a little.

“Then be a good baby girl and don’t fuss.” Steph said as she stepped out of the car, and headed to the door.

I had never actually been to Nicklas & Nichole’s before, I was familiar with its reputation.  Several of our more butch friends came here, in fact Steph was the least butch of the lesbians I knew who came here. Steph wasn’t really butch at all, more cool professional boss lady who exuded femine power. Impeccably neat short hair just went well with it.

Though it had many aspects of a barbershop, the spinning pole and classic big red leather barber chairs, chrome everything, the place operated more like a salon. There was a receptionist in the front sitting at the computer in front of a spacious waiting area. I knew that appointments were an absolute necessity, as the place was usually booked a couple of weeks in advance.

The fact that there was very little chance that Steph could get them to squeeze me in made me figure this was mostly just a game she was playing.  I mean what were the chances that she had actually preplanned everything at least a week before?

“Hello Stephany.” The perky receptionist with his blue buzz cut greeted us. “Nichole will be right up. Did you request the backroom?”

“Yes, Mike.” Steph said smoothly, and stroked my arm. “My young lady friend here can be a bit shy.”

Well, I guess she had preplanned this.  I felt rather silly being referred to as “a young lady” to a man who was likely 5 years my junior.

“Stephany,” a woman in a red version of the classic white barber smock and tight black jeans called as she approached us.  She had a nose ring, eyebrow piercing and multiple visible tattoos.  Her jet black hair was vaguely longish in the center, especially towards the back, but tight on the sides with a design carved into it. I’m not sure if it was more of a modern take on the mohawk or the mullet, but it looked better than any description of it could make it sound.  I absolutely coveted her boots, shiny black with enough of a heal to be high, but not enough to make them impossible to wear all day,

“Nicky, dear.” Steph smiled as she pulled me to her side. “This is the dishevelled young lady I was telling you all about.”

“Ah yes.” Nichole said as she looked me over like she was sizing up prey. “I see exactly what you meant. She is deliciously innocent isn’t she. Come, I have the backroom all set up so we can have a little peace and quiet for our fun.”

-Part Four

Nichole lead us through the shop out a door in the back to a hallway.  At the end of the hallway was a basic “exit” sign.  To the left, were two doors labeled “Restroom” and “Staff” respectively. To the right was an unlabelled door that Nichole held open for us to go in.  Steph and I walked in, then Nichole followed and closed the door behind us.  She pulled a brass skeleton key with a wine colored tassel hanging from it out of her pocket and inserted it into the hole with a twist.

The backroom had a similar classic barbershop with a twist thing going as the front had.  It was just a very very different twist.  While up front was bright mid 20th century barbershop with a twist of high end salon thrown in, this room was 19th century barbershop with a twist of gothic vampire lair thrown in.

The single barber chair was ornate victorian cast iron and carved wood with slick black patent leather upholstery.  The floor was classic black and white marble hex tiles, except the colors were reversed from the usual white with a black accent, so it was mostly black with just a few white tiles.  The counters looked like obsidian. The plentiful wood furnishings were all a mix of deep mahogany, ebony, or walnut.

On the wall were shadow boxes. One was filled with a display of antique cut throat razors.  Another was filled with old manual hairclippers from before they became electric. On the counter just to the side of the wood framed mirror, was a ceramic phrenology head.

It was well enough lit, there were two crystal chandeliers and plenty of mirrors, but still managed to come across as dark.  The burgundy damask patterned wallpaper was probably mostly to blame, but the high tin ceiling didn’t help.

“Darling go sit in one of the waiting chairs while I get my hair done.” Steph said to me as though this was just an ordinary day in an ordinary place. Then she gave me a peck on the cheek and slipped off her suit jacket handing it to me to take care of for her.

I looked around and spotted the two ornate red velvet waiting chairs across from the barber chair.  Above them was another mirror in a gilded oval frame. I neatly draped Steph’s jacket on one of the chairs and gingerly sat in the other. In front of me was a coffee table.  On the table instead of the usual fashion and style magazines were antique penny dreadfuls with browned edges.  I peered at them as I sat on the edge of my chair but didn’t dare to actually touch them in case the old paper crumbled.

Steph confidently approached the barber chair and casually seated herself in it. I was impressed at how Steph filled the large chair with her slender body, but that was Steph.  She wasn’t physically big, but she owned it. I had never seen her the least bit meek. She always commanded a room, why should this one be any different.

“Just the usual Nicky darling.” Steph said as Nichole approached the chair, with a cape draped over her arm.

Nichole smiled and replied, “Of course Stephany,” as she reached over to the counter and pulled a long strip of something from a box.

Stephany had been sitting in a relaxed manner, but straightened up as Nichole stepped behind her. They both faced the mirror above the counter as Nichole wrapped a strip of paper around Steph’s lovely neck. Nichole then unfolded the black cape, and I could see the weight, drape, and texture of it were wrong for the typical nylon salon capes.  I suspected it was actually cotton.  Especially when I noticed it had subtle black on black stripes as Nichole shook it with a snap. I suspected there was more than just a little theatrics going on. She finally swung it high over Steph’s lap and let the billowing fabric drift gently down covering Stephs lap and torso.  It closed with a tie, instead of the velcro I was used to.  Last thing, she folded the tissue down over the top of the cape.

Though most people would look terribly vulnerable trapped under all that fabric, Steph still looked completely in control, the bottom of her suit pants and red shoes that peaked out from under the cape even matched the decor.  There was something about how her ankles were crossed and her feet totally relaxed on the footrest that exuded unconcerned confidence.  She didn’t need to exert any effort, she just knew everything would go exactly as she expected it to.

Nichole had taken a comb out of the breast pocket of her smock, and was combing up all the hair at the top of Steph’s head.  She had a line of hair clips fastened to the hem of her smock, and retrieved a couple to hold the longer top part of Steph’s hair up out of the way.

Nichole walked over to the obsidian counter.  She opened one of the drawers of the walnut cabinet below it and pulled out a large set of black electric hair clippers, which she adjusted briefly before plugging in.  She stepped behind Stephany again, and turned them on.  

The sound was so much louder than I expected, I had heard it said before that they started with a pop, but knowing that doesn’t fully prepare one.  I startled slightly, but Steph acted as though she had barely noticed, in her cool calm composure.  It had to have been louder to her, right behind her back like that.

Stephany casually tilted her head forward as Nichole brought the humming clippers up to her nape.  The clippers pushed a path up into Steph’s pale pelt of hair.  When they reached the top of the section, Nichole tipped the clippers and the sprinkling of hair fell like snow, white against the black cape and tiles.

The path Nichole had mowed up the back of Steph’s head was visibly shorter than the uncut hair around it.  A little more upright, a little sharper, and Steph’s scalp just very slightly visible.  Considering that what Nichole had cut off, couldn’t be more than a quarter inch at most, it was pretty surprising.  I guess since Steph’s hair was so short, even a tiny bit changed things quite a bit.  When I would get a full inch trimmed off at my salon, it made less of an impact.

Nichole started mowing a second path into the soft blond hair, widening the area that I knew from past experience was going to feel like a very plush silk velvet when she was finished.

I watched mesmerised as the short hairs started to cover the black cape draping Steph’s shoulders like a blanket of snow on the road on a cold winter night.  It only piled up for a bit though, eventually it started tumbling to the floor, where Nichole’s shiny boots knocked it aside creating a path as she shuffled around the chair.

Soon Nichole was folding down Steph’s cute left ear and guiding the buzzing machine around it. Nichole finished off the side by stripping the hair on Steph’s left temple down to the same length.  She then turned the chair, so she could work on the right side of Steph’s head.

With the chair turned, Steph now faced me. She smiled at me cooly as Nichole ran the clippers up the side of her head. Her cold gaze sent a shiver through me that made me clutch my itchy wool sweater closed.

Through the whole thing, Steph just sat there cool as a cucumber.  The only movements she made, was very slightly tilting her head in ways that made it a little easier for Nichole to access.  As far as I could tell, Nichole never did anything to indicate how Steph should tilt, Steph just knew.  It was almost as though they had a well rehearsed choreography routine.  I suppose it was just Steph and Nichole having done this once a month for years and years.

Nichole shut off the clippers. The quiet was a surprisingly welcome relief. Steph just sat silently gazing down at me as Nichole took the attachment off the clippers, placing it on the obsidian counter with a clack, and pulled her comb back out of her pocket.

She once again stood behind Steph who held eye contact with me as Nichole flipped the clippers back on once again with the impossibly loud pop.  Once again I flinched at the sound but Steph didn’t even blink.  A slight look of amusement spread across her face as she slowly tilted her head down without breaking eye contact.

This time the humming of the clippers was punctuated by them also rattling against the teeth of the comb with a schloop as Nichole added shape all around and tapered the hair perfectly in the back.  It wasn’t much, just a little bevel here and there. Of course more of the pale hair was being flicked aside. The light occasionally catching it as it fell to the floor, like when it’s dark and drizzling and you can only just see the rain around a street lamp.

Nichole finally turned off the clippers again and put the angry little machine on the counter. I sighed at the once again soothing quiet.

Nichole picked up a spray bottle and started carefully wetting Steph’s hair as she took out the clips.  She managed to get Steph’s hair quite damp, without getting any water on Steph’s face and messing up her makeup.  Nichole put the bottle back on the counter, and approached Steph with her comb and scissors ready.

Nichole began combing a pale lock up and clamped the end of it with her perfectly manicured fingers. She then sliced off the barest quarter inch from the ends.

Steph continued to keep up the challenging gaze into my eyes the entire time.

“So, Nicky,”  Steph started speaking now that she wouldn’t have to compete with the hum of the clippers, “is this young lady here not just the most dreadfully messy thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yes.” Nichole agreed, after a quick glance at me, before snipping off a quarter inch from another platinum lock.

“And that’s after she spent ages blow drying all that hair straight this morning.” Steph went on as Nichole continued trimming away. “You should see her most days, too disgraceful to even let her accompany me here.”

“I appreciate you respecting our standards.” Nichole sounded rather amused as she responded while continuing to slice off slivers of hair.

“I know it is a terrible waste of your time, Nicky dear,” Steph continued, “but do you think you could tidy her up a bit.”

“While it’s a terrible imposition,” Nichole said jovially, “anything for you Steph.”

“Thank you. Nicky dear.” Steph’s voice was like syrup. “I think part of the problem is that the hair is just way too long.  Don’t you agree.”

“Absolutely. It’s way too long.” Nichole agreed with an eager smile. “Way too long.”

I felt horribly exposed as they both scrutinized me, and Nichole kept snipping away. I wanted to sink down into the waiting chair, but couldn’t.  I couldn’t even slouch down with the tight corset holding me straight.

“I thought we could try taking two inches off and see what that does for the ragamuffin.” Steph suggested to my dismay.

“It might help a little, I think three inches is the minimum to really see the difference,” Nichole said while giving me a teasing look. “But it’s up to you Stephany.”

“Steph, I did just get a trim.” I reminded her as my stomach knotted at the idea of losing two or three inches.

“There she goes arguing with me again, Nicky.” Steph said, addressing herself to Nichole instead of responding to me.

“Tsk, tsk,” Nichole said to me. She had finished trimming Steph’s hair and was pulling a hair dryer out of the cabinet.

They paused their conversation as Nichole blow dried Stephany.  Then Nichole put the hair dryer back and took something else I couldn’t see out.

“Three inches might be better.” Steph picked up the conversation again, as Nichole opened a (I hoped not antique) straight razor.

“It’s up to you Stephany, but I don’t think two inches will help much with that terrible mop.” Nichole said as she stroked the razor down Steph’s neck.

“You’ve made your point Steph,” I said. “I’ll remember to always have a hair tie handy.”

“She needs to learn not to argue with her mistress, doesn’t she Nichole?” Stephany asked as she sat patiently being cleaned off.

“Oh, absolutely.” Nichole agreed as she carefully unfastened the cape, making sure not to get any hair on Steph’s pristeen blouse.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and start with four inches Nichole.” Steph said as she stood up. “Then maybe she will remember not to argue.”

“As you wish.” Nichole said as she dusted off the chair.

-Part Five

“Go hop into the chair like a good girl, now,” Steph ordered me.

I hesitantly got up and started walking towards the chair.

“Leave the sweater.” Steph ordered as she settled comfortably into the other waiting chair.

I returned to the chair as Nichole impatiently watched me peel off the white wool cardigan, then fold it neatly. I turned and once again started walking reluctantly towards the ornate victorian barber chair.

“Walk at a proper speed,” Steph ordered, “and apologize to Nicky for dawdling.”

“I’m very sorry I dawdled Nicky,” I said as I reached the chair.

“Baby girl.” Steph scolded me. “That is no way to address someone you have just met. Nicky is an old friend of mine I have known for years, so I may call her by her familiar name.  You need to address her properly as ‘Miss Nichole.’ Now apologize again correctly.

“And Nicky, go ahead and start with five inches since the ragamuffin was so impertinent.” Steph added.

“I’m terribly sorry Miss Nichole,” I said around the growing lump in my throat, “for dawdling and being overly familiar.”

I carefully stepped onto the footrest while holding tight to the armrest.  As I pivoted to sit, I was grateful that my simple white ballet flats didn’t have a heel to catch in the cast iron scrollwork. As I slid back into the chair, I sat stiffly upright. Even if I hadn’t been too terrified to relax, the corset prevented me from sitting any other way than very straight. The leather felt terribly cold against the bare skin of my arms. I started shivering slightly.

Nichole swung the barber chair to face the mirror much more swiftly, then she had turned it while Steph had sat in it.  She roughly gathered up my hair and twisted it just a little too tightly, before using a clip to hold it up on top of my head.  She grabbed a strip of tissue from the counter,

“Chin up ragamuffin.” Nichole ordered in a taunting voice.

I tilted my head up, exposing my quivering throat as I was supposed to.  Nichole secured the scratchy paper around my neck.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move.” Nichole announced as she walked over to the big mahogany wardrobe next to the waiting chairs.

When Nichole was back behind me, she unfolded a classic white cape with pale blue pinstripes.  She dramatically shook it out, giving it a good snap.  She swung it over me, the fabric billowing. The cotton cloth was thicker and heavier than the nylon I was used to at the salon. She tied it tightly around my neck, so that it was hard to swallow.

Nichole undid the clip holding my hair up letting it spill down over my shoulders and chest. It was healthy and smooth enough that it was barely tangled from being up in the clip, as it rippled down. She let it lay there for a moment for me to admire, then pulled it back hard and started roughly combing it without saying a word. 

Nichole placed her hands on my shoulders. In her right hand, were a pair of sharp silver scissors.  She gave them a few menacing snaps.

“Ready to lose five inches ragamuffin?” Nichole queried in a taunting voice.

“Steph,” I squeaked out. “I think this is a little much.”

Steph was lounging in the waiting chair, reading one of the antique penny dreadfuls.  She sat up and peered at me over the rim of her tortoise shell reading glasses, like a librarian, frowning.

“Did I ask for your opinion, baby girl?” She asked me sternly.

“No, mistress.” I admitted, “but…”

“Are you going to argue with me?”

“No ma’am.” I said trying to swallow, the tightness of the cape around my neck making it hard.

“Proceed, Nicky.  Five inches and we’ll see how that looks.”

“Here we go.” Nichole said cheerfully as she picked up a lock of my long hair from the back of my head.

I squeezed my eyes shut and sucked in my bottom lip.  My heart was pounding in my ears.  Suddenly the sound of scissors crunching through my hair joined the pounding.  My stomach turned.  And a moment later something soft was tickling my nose.

“There you go,” Nichole taunted as she brushed the lock against my nose. “Does this look like five inches?”

I just kept my eyes shut. I was too terrified to look.  I was imagining a huge chunk of my hair swinging back and forth.

“Baby girl. You need to confirm that Nicky estimated five inches correctly.” Steph instructed. “So open your eyes and look.”

I opened my eyes and looked at the not quite half a foot long bundle of strands hanging before my face.  It was a thankfully small bundle, about the thickness of linguine.  I took a deep breath, and let it out.  They’d had their fun, and the thin lock wouldn’t really show.  It should mostly just blend in with the layers.

“It’s about five inches I guess.” I confirmed. “Are we done now? Can we please go?”

“Don’t be silly baby girl, that’s not how haircuts work.” Stephane stated firmly. “Nichole has to cut the rest of it the same length now.”

“Steph, you’ve had your fun,” I said, my voice just beginning to break. “Let’s go home now, please.”

“Oh.” Stephany sat up a little straighter, and took off her reading glasses to give me a stern look.  “You thought this was a game just because Nicky was enjoying herself.  It’s not.  I really am sick of dealing with the constantly tangled rats nest your hair is.  Having to pause to peel it off your face at the worst moments. This is a real haircut, so stop fussing.  Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” I squeaked out as my eyes suddenly started to feel warm.

“Nicky, that’s fine.” Steph said in a disinterested tone as she turned her attention back to the ancient magazine, sliding her glasses back on. “Please continue.”

Nichole smiled menacingly at me through the mirror as the lock dropped into my lap.

-Part Six

I sat, waiting for Nichole to comb my hair down smoothly, so that she could snip a straight line across. Nichole didn’t start to smooth my hair down though.  She had even put the comb back in her pocket.

It made it easier to still hold on to some vague hope that this was just them having a little game at my expense, and that any moment Steph would call an end to it. We could go home and have a day of sexcapades. I sure as hell was ready for sexcapades, my panties were uncomfortably damp.

Nichole picked up a much thicker lock from the side of my head and held it dramatically in front of my face to dangle.  This made me suspect that they were just planning to tease me for a little bit longer. After all, she was a professional, and this was not how professionals cut hair.

Nichole tapped off little one inch intervals along the length of hair dangling in front of my face with the tips of her scissors while counting. “One, two, three, four, five.”  At her five inch mark, she opened her scissors and wrapped them around the lock, and just held them there.  I held my breath, waiting for her to start laughing and release me.

She closed the scissors. The blades bit through easily with just a whisper of a crunch. Five inches of the soft chocolatey brown lock fell to my lap.

I let out a little gasp. She really was going to cut my hair. My breath became ragged. My shaking hands made the hair on my lap jiggle.

Nichole had another thick lock dangling in my face, and soon it too was floating down to my lap.

I looked in the mirror, the shortened locks lay in front of my shoulder down my chest.  It was obvious now, that this was indeed going to be a real haircut.  There was no blending what had happened into the layers.  The new length hung to just a few inches below my shoulder.

Nichole kept lifting long locks up from the side of my head, and snipping off the bottom of them.  The bouncing pile in my lap kept growing and growing.  Finally, all the locks that could easily be held to dangle in front of my face were cut roughly the same length, and Nichole started to just slice through the hair in the back swiftly.

“So what do you think, Stefany?” Nichole asked as she spun the chair around so I faced Steph. “Is that short enough to fix this problem?”

Steph looked up from the magazine once again and peered over her glasses.  She spent a moment gazing at me then let out a very exaggerated sigh.

“Five inches is not nearly as much as I had imagined I must admit.” Steph said gloomily. “Keep cutting Nicky dear. Take it above the shoulders.”

“As you wish.” Nichole dutifly answered and spun me back around to face the mirror again.

“Steph please…” I begged twisting to look at her.

“Don’t argue with me,” was all Steph said without even looking up from the story she was reading.

-Part Seven

The moment I was sitting properly, Nichole started to comb my hair in a very brusque manner.  She fanned as much of it as would sit naturally out in front of my shoulders, combing the rest down my back.  She then put her comb back in her pocket. She then bent forward, so her face was right next to my ear.

“Say bye-bye to another year of growth.” She whispered in my ear.

She then slid the tip of the open scissors along my collar bone, and started closing them.  The blades made a schilick as they cut through the silky fanned out hair.  Some of the severed hair just clung to the cotton fabric of the cape.  Most of it started sliding down my chest though.  As the loose strands slid towards my waiting lap, they tumbled apart leaving a streak of dark hairs along the way.

Nichole mercilessly just kept hacking along my collar bone.  This was actually a little below the shoulders still I noticed when she got to the center.  It seemed she wasn;t done though.  She left the other side still fanned out at the previous length as she combed through the side she had just cut a couple of times.

She pulled the comb down again, stopping it just as it hit my shoulder and started cutting along the top of the comb.  She lifted the comb up high most of the cut hair caught in the teeth still.  She held it up in front of me, and shook the hair out so it fell like snow in front of me.  Some landed on my lap, but some drifted forward and I could feel the prickles of the freshly cut ends poking through my thin stockings.

Nichole repeated the process till all the hair on one side of my face hung to just above my shoulder.  She shook the last of the short hair stuck in the comb onto my arm.

Done with the first side she moved to the back, leaving me to stare at the difference in length between the side that no longer touched my shoulder, and the side that was still the length after the first cut and fanned out in front of my shoulder.

She started snipping locks from the back, tossing them forward to the floor so they landed just to the side of the footrest in my view.  They are mostly about the same five inches as the locks that had been dropped in my lap during the first cut.

I wished there was music or something to distract me.  The room was nearly silent though.  The only sound was the repeated snapping of scissors.

Eventually Nichole ran out of locks in back, and finally grabbed the hair she had fanned out before.  She held it in a tight bundle, she started sawing through the thick bundle cutting it off just above my shoulder.  She put the scissors back in her pocket, and spun me around again to face Stephany. 

“So was this what you thought five inches would look like?” Nichole ask, while she ran the tips of her fingers over the severed end of the bundle of my hair she still held tightly.  She was almost treating it like a small furry animal as she gently pet it.

“That is more like what I thought five inches was going to look like.” Steph purred out happily. 

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I assumed now we could go.  I would just have to put it up for a few days until I could get it recut at my salon sometime later in the week.  I was going to have to think of a pretty good story to tell my regular stylist to explain this.

“Of course, the real question is,” Steph continued, “if it’s short enough to not be a mess and in her face again in five minutes. Stand up darling.”

I took a deep breath, and carefully stepped out of the chair, trying not to trip on the foot rest, or slip on the hair covered tiles.  As I got up, locks of hair fell from the cape. Much spilled on the foot rest and floor.  Bits got into my shoes which was uncomfortable as hell.  Some caught on the armrests and seat of the chair.

I stood as I was told.

“Now bow forward darling.” Steph ordered. “Then stand up again.”

I watched as more of the loose hair fluttered down from the cape onto the floor in front of me.  As I stood back up, the shoulder length hair I still had hung in my face.

“I guess it’s still a problem. Sit back down darling” Steph said, sighing dramatically. “Nicky dear.  Would it be too much to ask for you to take off another couple of inches.”

“Of course Stephany.”

Getting back in the chair was more difficult with the long cape in the way, and my shoes covered in hair. Nichole finally tossed the bundle of hair she’d been stroking aside. She lifted the cape over the back and armrests as I slid back into position.

She once again started combing my hair roughly straight down all around my head, including in front of my face.  After a moment, she picked up the spray bottle and started squirting it at my head.  Unlike when she had done Steph’s hair, she wasn’t careful at all about not wetting my face. I was glad that my mascara was waterproof.

Nichole started snipping a line around my head, just an inch or so under my jaw, creating a long blunt bob. The sharp points of the scissors scraped and poked my neck as she worked. Putting my hair up while waiting for an appointment at my regular salon, suddenly didn’t feel like it was going to be possible.  I was hoping it was even enough this time to not just look hacked off though.

Nichole spun me around yet again.  This time I could barely see Steph through the curtain of hair covering my eyes.

“There you go.” Nichole announced. “Two more inches off”

“It’s still in her face.” Steph looked up for just a second before returning to the magazine. “She needs bangs.”

“As you wish” Nichole agreed.

She swiftly sectioned off a little triangle of hair in front of my face and bundled it together.  She sliced it off right before my eyes,  the cold steel blade resting on the bridge of my nose.

She ruffled my new bangs across my forehead.  They weren’t too bad. They hung to below my eyebrows.

Nichole cleared her throat and Steph glanced up over the top of her glasses, very briefly.

“Shorter.”

I felt the point of the scissors on my forehead, before I had a chance to say anything, more hair was raining down. I suddenly had very short blunt bangs above my eyebrows, and short bits of hair sticking to my damp cheeks.

I looked at the mirror above Steph’s seated form.  I now had a passable bob, but with very short bangs.  It was not ok for work. The bob was fine, but the bangs were too punk. I would need to wear something that made the bangs less obvious.

“It’s out of her eyes.” Nichole announced.

“Shake your head side to side darling so we can see if it stays off of your face.” Steph simply stated.

“Steph…” I said, my voice cracking.

“Don’t argue with me darling.”

I shook my head.  Some of the hair from the sides stuck to my damp cheeks. 

“I guess you’re going to have to go shorter Nicky.” Steph stated cooly.

Nichole spun me back to face the mirror again.  This time she combed the hair on the left side of my head straight out and started cutting harsh short layers into it. On the right side, she combed it to the side, and sliced above the comb, then shook the hair onto my feet again. Except for the bangs being too short, it was beginning to look like a bad version of  an early ‘80s winged bob style.

“Here we are.” Nichole spun me around again to face Steph.

“Well it is out of her face now, but it is kind of boring.” Stephany said cooly. “Perhaps you could do something to make it a little more interesting. Any ideas Nicky dear?”

“Hmmm” Nichole let out, rubbing her chin in an exaggerated thoughtful manner. Then she walked over and picked up the still bare bladed clippers she’d used for Steph’s haircut. “I could just randomly carve into it.”

Nichole held the clippers just inches from my ear as she flicked the switch. The loud pop almost made me jump out of my skin. Nichole grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

-Part Eight

“Stephany.  I have to go to work at the PINEAPPLE factory on Monday.” I spoke loudly enough to be heard over the clipper.

Nichole turned off the clippers, and looked over at Steph.

“She’s joking about the pineapple factory, but she does have a job.” Steph said not looking up from the penny dreadful she was reading. “She works in HR over at Harding Publishing.  It keeps her out of trouble, but it is rather a conservative place.

“Don’t worry baby girl,” Steph addressed me chuckling. “You will look perfectly professional when Nicky finishes.  Unless, you want me to take you away from all that and make you my little housewife?”

“I like my job at the PINEAPPLE factory.” I reiterated.

“Nicky,” Steph continued. “Just go ahead and do the style I sent you a picture of on Thursday. I think we are pretty much out of length to play around with anyway.”

“Yeah, we are mostly out of length I could spare before I need to actually start styling it.” Nichole nodded as she put the clippers down on the counter and pulled her phone out of her back pocket.  She leaned comfortably against the counter scrolling through it. “If you’d said yes to the clippers, all I could have done with them was bevel the edges a bit.”

While Nichole scrolled, I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down a bit.  I was relieved that it seemed to be mostly over, and it sounded like they had actually planned on fixing this into something I could go to work with, if not something I was going to like.  I opened my eyes and watched Nichole tap at her phone.  Then she was doing the pinch zoom thing on a picture.

“Uhm, Steph.” Nichole suddenly looked a lot less casual. “Little problem. I… uh… I don’t think this is going to work. Is this the right one?”

Steph furrowed her brow, and put down the magazine.  She got up and crossed over to look down at the picture on Nichole’s phone. Then she looked at me, then back down at the phone longer this time. As she looked down Steph’s face screwed up slightly, and she started biting her lip.

“It’s the bangs.” Nichole explained, though I think Steph could see the problem already. “They’re too short. They’re not going to look right with the rest of this. I forgot we were working towards a specific end goal when you asked for the bangs. I was thinking about it when I didn’t take the sides over the ears, but wasn’t thinking about it when you said bangs. I didn’t think you would ask for anything that I couldn’t fix after. You ASKED for the bangs.”

Then they both looked at me, as my stomach flopped about some more. I could tell they weren’t playing around anymore, they both looked genuinely worried. Steph sighed and shrugged.

“I was never one of those girls who was good with hair,” Steph explained, “it’s why I have always stuck to simple easy to style low maintenance cuts. I didn’t really think about how bangs might be a problem for the style I picked. I figured if something was going to cause problems you’d drop a hint.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to it, I looked at the picture a couple of days ago, then kinda forgot what it looked like. I didn’t think you would ask me to do anything that was going to…” Nichole was apologizing to Steph, not me. 

“Ok, abandon our original plan.” Steph said, taking control of the situation the way she does. “Pretend you have a customer who came in like this,” she waved her eyeglass ear piece at me, “because they accidently stuck their head in a cuisinart or whatever, and you have to fix it. You need to make it look neat and professional, I mean very conservative office professional, and it would be nice if it was also feminine. What do you do?”

“Believe it or not, I kinda had that a couple of weeks ago.” Nichole said, some of the color was returning to her face. “Client’s a total goth-chick. High back aline bob, short little baby bangs. You know what I mean?”

Steph nods.

“So she was trying to curl the long sides of the bob, I forget why, and she doesn’t do it very often, or possibly at all except the one time, so she’s using some really old curling iron.  Well something is off with the heating element and it gets way too hot and she burns off a big visible chunk of hair in front of her ear.”

“So what did you do?” Steph asked

“I just cropped everything on top pretty much the same length as the bangs and texturized the hell out of it to give it a versatile feel.” Nichole said with a shrug.  “Guess I could do that again. Think Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby length, but with Emma Watson pixie texture. The texture means she can either just smooth it down and it will have a softer feminine look, or use some styling wax to make it edgier. It will require going a lot shorter than you had planned to, but it’ll look cute. How does that sound?”

“I guess that’ll work.” Steph said, without trying to consult me. “It sounds conservative enough.”

“Steph,” I said my voice cracking, “It’s already so short.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Steph asked genuinely, like she might actually listen if I did. “I’m assuming an undercut microbob with baby bangs isn’t going to pass dress code, even if I think it would be fun.  Is there something else you can think of that incorporates the bangs?”

“I guess not.” I admitted gazing at the problematic bangs in the mirror. Anything even a little punk or goth was not going to fly at the office. It didn’t really fit my personality either.

“Nicky, I’m sure you’ll make her adorable.” Steph reassured.

Nichole stepped behind me again, pulling a new comb from her pocket. And started combing my hair straight back, acting a lot more professional now.  Not deliberately tugging more than necessary.  She had the spray bottle and was rewetting my hair, this time not spraying me in the face. She put the bottle down, and returned with both scissor and comb in hand.

She then combed up a bit in the front that included the bangs.  She clamped it between her fingers, flipped the comb down and scissors up, and started slicing downward into my hair.  She was slicing out thin wedges instead of cutting it straight across.  The bottom of the slender spikes she created were right at the length of the damned bangs.

The point cutting felt familiar, like something real hairstylists did.  Unlike most of what had happened to me over the course of the haircut. My regular stylist at my regular salon usually point cut my long layers.  Oh good god, how the fuck was I going to explain what in hell had happened to me to my stylist.  He’d be expecting me back in a month and a half with long hair to trim.

A tear rolled down my cheek. I slipped my hand out from under the cape and brushed it away, but another was following it. Steph who was actually watching now, got up and pulled a couple of kleenexes from a box down the counter and handed them to me silently.

“Thanks” I mumbled, as she returned to her seat.

Nichole worked her way back across my crown, she seemed to be increasing the length of the spikes ever so slightly as she went. By the time she got to the top of my head, the length difference was noticeable as she lifted the hair and sliced, but once it lay back down, it all just blended in.

The heavier wet hair dropped differently than the lighter dry hair had.  It just dropped straight down.  Some just landed silently on the cape, but some made it to the hard tiles with a subtle plop. Sometimes some caused the leftover dry clippings to tumble down with it. Of course, Nichole wasn’t bothering to make a show of it anymore.

On the side, she continued the point cutting, but not as deep.  The side was being cut a much more uniform length.  I think Nichole was taking the sides ever so slightly shorter than the top. As she worked her way to the back, and made me tilt my head down, it was obvious she was tapering it slightly since she had a hard time holding the hair at the very bottom.

When she had finished with cropping the length, she picked up the straight razor. I bit my tongue to not object to more cutting, since I knew it was meant to add texture, not take down the length more.  As I watched her flick the blade through the hair of my  blunt bangs though and more and more strands dropped to my shoulders, it started to get hard to believe it wasn’t affecting the length.  When she said texturize the hell out of it she had really meant it.  By the time she was done, I thought it unlikely that any two strands of hair on the top of my head were the same length as each other.  While, thankfully, the bangs were no longer blunt, I wasn’t happy that they were a bit shorter.

She kept working around the edges with the razor.  She used it to take weight from my sideburns, making them wispy.  She made me bend my head down again, pushing my chin into my chest, so she could use the razor along my hairline, I assume achieving something similar to what it had done for my bangs and sideburns. She even stroked it along my neck a little like she had with Steph, but not as high or as much.

I was glad when she put the razor down and picked up the hairdryer.  The rushing air sent tons of the loose hair to the floor.  I had come in with a center part, but Nichole dried my hair directing it to the right.

I hoped I was done, but Nichole started fishing around in a drawer.  She finally came back with texturizing shears.  She started in the back, combing the hair up and just chopping away at it with the shears. As she did the sides, the sprinkling of hair falling to my shoulders reminded me of pepper.  She just kept working at it, combing up and chopping over and over, till the sides of my head felt sore.

Once she was happy with the sides, she started lifting up the short locks on top, and chopping at them with the thinning shears.  After doing a couple of locks, she would comb through.  The comb would suddenly be filled with a clump of loose hair.  She would shake out the clump to the side and repeat the process.

It seemed to go on forever, I just had to sit there enduring it.  Hoping that it would be something I could at least go to work with at the end. I kind of just zoned out looking at the short bits of hair stuck in my lap, instead of looking at the mirror.

Finally, I heard Nichole put the comb and thinning shears on to the counter and felt myself being spun around to face Steph.  A soft brush was being used to dust me off.  first myneck then my face. And the tie holding on the cape was being loosened.

“So what do you think Steph?” Nichole asked.

“Oh, it’s perfect, Nicky.” Steph sounded genuinely happy. “You know, I’m glad we went this way instead of with the original plan. I asked for the bangs because I really did want the hair out of her eyes, and this does that so well. It’s just as cute as the picture I sent you, but so much more practical.”

“I’m glad you’re ok with it.” Nichole said to Steph.

“Now say thank you, baby girl, and come get your sweater.” Steph ordered me.

I tried. I tried to stand, but my legs were too shaky. I tried to make words, but all that came out of me was a gurgling sound then more tears.  

I lifted a shaking hand to my practically bare head, but couldn’t actually make myself touch it.

-Part Nine

“Nicky dear, would it be possible to have the room for a few moments, so my ragamuffin can compose herself?” Stephany requested.

“No problem. Take as much time as you need.  I don’t need the room again for hours.” Nichole said, walking towards the door we had entered through and gesturing for Steph to follow her. “There’s a washroom through the door at the back.  Here’s the key, when you’re ready to go, just drop it off with Mike up front.”

“Thank you.” Steph said quietly to Nichole.

Nichole dropped the brass skeleton key she pulled from the lock in the door into Steph’s hand.  She gave Steph a quick hug and walked out.  Steph relocked the door behind her.

“Oh, baby girl, we must stop this snivelling.” Steph said when she got back to the barber chair I was still sitting in. “It’s just hair.  You can grow it back.  I don’t want you to grow it back, I love this short thing on you, but you can.”

“I…” I tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

I hiccupped twice instead, and buried my face in my hands and started sobbing in earnest.

Steph sighed and I heard footsteps as she walked to the other end of the counter then back to the chair. She handed me a tissue, but then pulled me up to my feet.

“Oh darling,” Steph said in an exasperated voice.  “It really is adorable, and it will be so nice not getting all tangled up with hair all the time, all over the pillows, making love, constantly.  And I am pretty sure that a certain part of you really enjoyed this.”

Steph pulled me against her. She reached down to the bottom of my skirt, and stuck her hand under it.  “Let’s see if we can relieve a little tension.”

Steph’s hand was pushing its way inside my positively soaked panties.  Then she was pressing against my swollen clit.  My clit was so swollen, that I could feel my pulse in it as soon as Steph applied pressure.  

She had barely started stroking when I orgasmed.  If Steph wasn’t holding me tightly to her, I don’t think I could have kept standing, as the pressure exploded in me.  My chest pounded and I saw flashes of light.  

Steph kept stroking rhythmically on my clit till I orgasmed again.  I leaned into her, spent barely able to stand even with her support.  Too breathless to continue crying.  She switched from stroking my clit to just resting her soft hand against my neatly trimmed mound.  We just stood there for a bit, till my heart rate slowed and my breathing evened out.

“Feeling better, darling baby girl?”

“A little,” I croaked out horsley. “Thirsty.”

“Go wash up your face in there,” Steph pointed to the washroom door, kissed my forehead tenderly, “and I’ll go get a bottle of water from the main waiting area.”

I nodded, and slowly started to take my weight off Steph and stand on my own.  Steph waited till I was walking in the right direction on my unsteady legs before she started walking toward the door out to the hallway.

After I relieved myself, I stood at the sink looking down as I lathered then rinsed my hands. I took a deep breath and looked up as I reached for a paper towel.  My eyes were red and swollen, and of course, my hair was mostly gone, I noted as I caught my reflection in the mirror.  I held the paper towel under the cold water, and just held it to my face. I held it for a while, feeling the cold wetness soothe the swelling and dissolve the salt.

I threw out the wet towel and pulled a new dry one off the roll.  I started to dry my face with my shaking hands.  Looked in the mirror as I blotted around my eyes, even though my mascara was waterproof and hadn’t run, it had flaked a little, so I needed to clean up some.

All dried off, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I brushed along my hairline, with my shaking finger tip, feeling the bare skin of my neck, there was about a two and a half inch gap between where my hair ended and my collar began. I turned my head slightly, and looked at my fully exposed ear.

Above the collar, over the ears.

I reflected back on an incident at work the previous month. I was tasked with explaining to one of the younger male employees, Rob, that his supervisor, Jim, was concerned about his not adhering to the dresscode. Jim had noticed that it had been a while since Rob had gotten a haircut.  Nobody trusted Jim to handle the conversation tactfully enough, so I had to. Since I hadn’t known ahead of time that I was going to be having that particular conversation, I had worn my own hair down that day, flowing loose over my shoulders. Rod reacted about the way one would expect hearing “above the collar, and over the ears” from someone whose own hair completely obscured her ears and collar. When I asked him if he really thought two inches of hair was worth being difficult over, he asked me if I would be willing to cut my hair above the collar and over the ears. I just told it was completely different and not to shoot the messenger. Secretly, I had thought to myself nope, I would quit before I got it cut. Somehow I had ended up here anyway.

I went back out into the room, and stood there waiting for Steph to return.

I looked around again at the ruins of my hair.  It was everywhere.  Standing gave me a new perspective, different from sitting in the chair. There was the giant pile that circled the base of the barber chair.  There was a larger circle of strewn about strands outside of the path Nichole had made as she had walked around the chair.  There were long locks that hung off the elaborate victorian decorations of the barber chair itself. Some still clung to the cape that was hastily folded on the counter.  There was even a clump still in the comb on the counter.  I suspected if I examined it close enough I would find a few short bits clinging to the razor blade even. I knew that the remnants of Steph’s haircut were down there too, but they were completely obscured by my hair covering them.

I was still standing there shaking when Steph came back in, holding a bottle of San Pellegrino.  I took the bottle and opened it, the crackling of the seal breaking was reassuringly familiar. I gulped the water down. As I got my sweater and clutched it to my chest, Steph seemed to notice I was still shaking.

“I think your blood sugar is low baby girl.” She said ever so sweetly. “I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant for lunch.  Then after, we can go home and have some fun.”

She put her arm around me, and walked me towards the door. I walked stiffly, reluctant to just abandon my beloved beautiful long hair to be swept up and thrown in the trash once we were gone.

-Part Ten

As soon as we got home, Steph ordered me straight to the bedroom and told me I was to just stand there and wait. I stood there waiting, feeling so vulnerable.  Seeing myself out of the corner of my eye in the mirror.  My cardigan was clutched in front of me, and I was trying to decide if I was chilly enough to want to put it on.

Steph walked in just a moment later though and took away the option as she took the sweater from my hand and tossed it into the hamper.  She started undressing me slowly.  She kissed my shoulders as she stood behind me before she undid the hook at the top of the zipper.  Slowly she unzipped my dress, while nibbling my suddenly bare neck.  I was used to having to hold my hair up out of the way for her to access the zipper, but that wasn’t necessary anymore.  She slipped my dress down my body so that it circled my feet.

“Step out.” She ordered, and soon I was standing there in my slip.  Steph tossed my dress at the hamper.

Without my hair I felt much more naked than I really was.  The full slip frankly covered more than many dresses I had seen people walking down the street in.  I was used to hair draping over me though. A warm soft cape that kept me from ever being full exposed.

Steph ran her hands over my hips.  I stood there, I knew I had to wait for permission before I could touch her back, so I just stood as she pressed against me. Biting my shoulder, squeezing my butt gently.  Finally she reached down to the lace hem of my slip, and started sliding it up. She pulled it up slowly, touching everything along the way. Her finger tips lingering when they met mine. Finally she tossed my slip into the hamper.

I stood there with just the thinnest covering now, as Steph, still fully dressed, stroked my body.  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Usually when I wear my corset, and see myself, it makes me feel like a proper victorian lady, even though my corset isn’t exactly historically accurate.  But now, the hair takes away any illusion, I look like a modern woman in gaudy kink gear.  I look away and sigh closing my eyes, feeling dirty.

Steph kneeled down, her hands pulling my thin damp panties down till th garter straps blocked them from going any further.  Steph unfastens the garters from the stockings and continues to pull my panties all the way to the floor. My stockings started to fall and bunch around my ankles.

“How many times have I told you that panties should go on AFTER the garters are fastened?” Stephany scolded me as she slipped fingers inside me. “If you had done it properly your stockings wouldn’t be falling down now.”

“You have told me many times Mistress Stephany.” I conceded.

“I think I am going to have to take away your panty privileges for the rest of the weekend.” Steph emphasized each word with a thrust inside me.  

I orgasmed hard, barely managing to stay upright.  When I regained my composure, Steph spread my legs apart a little more and brought me to her face, holding me open with her hands.  Her strong tongue began lashing my clit, then sucking it rhythmically.  I had turned slightly as she had drawn me in, and I faced the mirror full on.  I looked so tawdry there. My ugly cropped hair and out of place corset; the back of Steph’s head framed by the dangling garter straps; my stockings slouched down like ill fitting socks. I couldn’t stand the sight of myself. I orgasmed again, harder, so hard it left me breathless.  Then turned my head in shame.

“Why do I like it when you’re so cruel to me.” I whisper into the space away from Steph. “What is wrong with me.”

Steph paused, and stood up. She turns my face towards her ever so tenderly with her hands.  Then pulls me into her safe arms. 

“My darling baby girl,” she sighs, stroking my shorn head, “there’s nothing wrong with you. You like it because it’s not cruel. Sure, sometimes it’s a little painful, or humiliating, but never cruel. I love you and adore that you trust me to take you on wild adventures and provide the discipline you crave. I know you don’t like the way your new haircut looks, but I think you are adorable.  I also believe that if you give it a week or two, you will come to appreciate it’s comfort and convenience.”

Steph’s words only gave me a little comfort.  Her warm safe arms though, felt like a life preserver, so I leaned in as tears rolled down my cheeks.  I looked up at Steph, she gently kissed me, tasting my tears.  We stood there for a few moments, before she took me to the bed.

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