Never Too Old

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I had just turned 60, and I wanted a change. Like many women, I couldn’t articulate what I wanted to change, so I started with my hair. I had nice hair for an older woman. A fact that I was very proud of. A thick shoulder length spill of silver waves. Still, it was starting to bother me. So, my daughter recommended her girl.

“She might be a little edgy for you, Mom, with her blue hair and nose ring,” she teased, “but she does good work. She also has great insight. She will find your new look.”

Intrigued, I booked an appointment. The stylist worked out of her house. Her little salon was in the back. When I asked, she smiled and said that she didn’t want clients of her other business to crosspaths with her stylist clients.

“Oh, what’s your other business?” I asked.

“I’m a professional dominatrix,” she said, still smiling, “Please sit.”

Breathing heavily, I sat down in her chair, even though I just heard that my precious hair was in the hands of a professional sadist. An observant woman, she teased me as she started playing with my hair, running her fingers through its thick strands, saying that she wouldn’t, say, shave my head unless I wanted her to. Then she pointed to the big black clippers on her counter. My breathing got heavier as I pictured them running over my head. Just stripping away years of careful growth and leaving them on the floor like trash.

“Look at you,” she whispered in my ear, “You love the idea of me shaving you bald. It’s turning you on. I would love to shave you. It’s very naughty of you to have long hair at this age, and you should be punished by having it all stripped away. You’re going to have to ask me to do that though. Go ahead. Ask me to shave your head.”

Looking up at her, I said, barely able to speak, “Please shave my head.”

She slapped me. Then she told me to repeat my request, but, this time, call her “Mistress”. So, I did.

“Please shave my head, Mistress.”

Looking amused, she grabbed her clippers. I winced when she popped off the guard. I wasn’t going to be left with any of my hair, I thought, wondering what I asked her to do. She forced me to look in the mirror as she buzzed me down to a grade zero. It wasn’t a terrible look. Just shocking. Especially how my ears stuck out. I went to rub my head, only to have her smack my hands away.

“Yeah, slave, you’re getting the works today. We’re going to shave you down to the skin, and, after you clean up your mess, we’re going to play a little. Say ‘thank you, Mistress’.”

Terrified, though extremely aroused, I said, “Thank you, Mistress.”

As promised, she lathered up my scalp and shaved with smooth with a straight razor. Once she polished my chromedome to a shine, even using a special oil to get the maximum shine, she uncaped me. Then she pointed to her broom. Without being asked, I swept up the hair that was once on my head and threw it in the trash. Satisfied with my clean-up job, she had me put away the broom and kneel before her.

Teasing my bald head with her nails, she told me, “Look at you. A respectable older woman reduced to being a slave. My slave. My old bald slave. Ever eat pussy, slave?”

Grateful tears in my eyes, I said, “No, Mistress. Please instruct me.”

And so she did…

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