“Are you SURE that you want me to cut your hair?” asked my roommate, wrapping a towel around my neck.
I nodded. “I mean, it’s just hair.”
She picked up her scissors. “I’m suprised to hear you say that. You seem so attached to this mop. Well, let’s get to work. I have a vision for you, and you agreed to allow me to execute it in exchange for allowing you to skip rent the next two months.”
Well, I was attached to my hair, which I wouldn’t describe as a mop. It was lovely mane of thick chestnut that cascaded down my back like mermaid’s. That being said, I was also absolutely flat broke. My roommate owned the house that we lived in. She’s a successful hairdresser. When I advised her that I’d be late, yet again, she was, to my surprise, not angry. Instead she offered to waive my rent for the next two months if I allowed her to cut my hair. Not aware of her sadism, I agreed.
The haircut started off normal enough. She sectioned off my hair into ponytails, so it could be donated. When she finished collecting them, I had a nice, normal looking bob. After she cut off the last one, I started to stand up, only to have her forcefully push me down into the chair again.
Smiling, she said, “You’re definitely not done.”
And, with that, she took out her clippers. I watched in horror as she shaped my hair into an edgy pixiecut with shaved sides. It’s so short, I thought, looking in the mirror. She left me only three inches of hair, leaving my neck feeling bare and my big ears feeling exposed.
Once she declared me done, she had me clean up the mess. She didn’t ask. She ordered. And she watched me with hungry eyes the whole time that I did it. After I cleaned up, she ordered me to strip to my underwear, so she could take photos of her work. Remembering her forceful hands, I obeyed.
So, two months later, did I hand my roommate her rent, or did I end up back under her clippers? Oh, I ended up back under her clippers. And, this time, she was upfront with her desires. After she stripped me naked, she sat me down in the chair, tying me to it with belts.
“This time, I’m shaving you bald from head to toe like I’ve always wanted,” she said, picking up her clippers and popping off the guard, “I’m so glad to be the one to finally humble you. And what a punishment! From beautiful mermaid locks to bald as a cueball because you’re so bad with money!”
Lacking any other option, I nodded, giving her my consent to proceed. She happily ran the clippers down the middle of my head. Within 60 seconds, I had a fresh recruit’s buzzcut. She then swiped off my eyebrows with her clippers.
She stuck a finger in my freshly waxed pussy. “Oh!” she said, “you’re wet.”
Tears of humiliation in my eyes, I admitted that I had the money to pay her. It’s just that I had been masturbating furiously every night since our first encounter. I lacked any other option besides letting her take my hair again. Even if I lost it all.
She kissed my forehead. “Thank you for telling me this. I always know that, underneath that princess exterior, there was a submissive heart.”
Smiling, she lathered up my scalp and eyebrows and shaved me smooth. Just scraped off any hair and dignity that I had left. And then she shaved for a second time. In case she missed a spot. She then released me from my bondage. After I cleaned up to her satisfaction, she pulled me into a warm waiting bath. As she cleaned me off, she brought me to climax with her skilled hands.
Every morning since then, she has shaved me head to toe, her submissive bald bride, and humiliation of seeing my freshly shaved head in the mirror still stirs us both.