Second Saturdays always arrived with a delightful mix of anticipation and anxiety. Elizabeth was always of two minds about the miniature monthly celebration – in some ways quite literally. She loved that Amanda reveled in taking command and showing her off to the other mistresses and masters, but lived in near constant fear that she would run into a coworker or friend while leashed and being led along South Street where the festivities took place.
Just the thought of it was enough to make her tremble in the best ways.
Steadying herself with a deep breath, she adjusted her leather halter top with the removable panels and then did the same for its matching g-string and garter belts. She turned her feet this way and that, admiring the way the light played off of her black thigh-high boots, and ran her red nails up the bare expanse of her left thigh while licking her similarly red, cupid-bow lips. Her skin was so soft and pale… soon it would be time to apply the tanning sprays in preparation for the summer months. But, for now, she kind of loved her alabaster skin. It was one of the few benefits of winter weather.
Sadly for everyone outside of the club tonight, they would not be getting to see her slender thighs. Grabbing her gray and black wrap from the bed, Elizabeth swirled it around her waist and tucked it into the waistband of her outfit, achieving just a small bit of modesty for the trip downtown.
As Amanda sang to herself in the bathroom, Elizabeth looked at the nearby clock and wondered exactly when they would be able to get going. As always, Amanda had them running behind schedule. But such was a Mistress’s prerogative. They were never late. “And never early,” Elizabeth whispered to herself. “A Mistress always arrives exactly when she means to.”
Brushing the thoughts of tardiness aside, Elizabeth ran her fingers back through her wealth of strawberry blonde hair, lifting its mass from her neck before letting it fall free to her waist. Thick bangs – a gift from her Mistress last week – highlighted her light blue eyes while almost hiding her expressive eyebrows. She supposed they were supposed to make her look mysterious and seductive, but judging by the way she noticed people’s attitudes change toward her during the work week, they were more likely just make her get carded when trying to buy drinks at a bar.
Fortunately, even with the new bangs, she had enough hair for two or three heads according to her stylist. Additionally, an afternoon and early evening spent in curlers had given her impressive mane added volume, and she hoped Amanda would allow her to show it off all night.
The bathroom door opened. “Penny for your thoughts, Love?”
Elizabeth watched Amanda stride into the room, her demeanor crying out that she had already settled into her role for the night. Shoulders back, chin held regally upward, and completely, utterly naked. Her beautiful black hair was gathered back with a severe tightness along the curves of her skull, only to explode into a completely contradictory twisting curl of a ponytail that bounced and swung just above her shoulders with every step. The ponytail seemed to call for a poodle skirt, while the rest of her demanded obedience.
“I was hoping Lady Am would let Ellie wear her hair down tonight,” Elizabeth replied. The extra step of having character names seemed silly at times, but they provided an extra level of security between their marriage and their kink. After all, it was one thing for Lady Am to demand Ellie kiss her feet, but quite another for Amanda to demand Elizabeth watch yet another episode of the Great British Bake-Off before bed.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Elizabeth sat on the bed and watched Amanda dress, somehow making the act just as seductive as stripping the clothes off could be. A leather miniskirt, bustier and a short business jacket that left her midriff bare gave her the air of a businesswoman gone bad, especially when paired with stilettos that left the long expanses of her slender legs bare. She even went so far as to wear heavy, black-framed glasses even though her gorgeous green eyes had no need for them. The final touch, however, was a thorny rose brooch she pinned to the lapel of her jacket, the final token of her getting into character.
Once fully ready, she strode to the dresser in front of Elizabeth and made a show of pulling out three items – a thick black collar with three d-rings spaced out in front of it, a riding crop, and a pair of thin, silver scissors.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she looked at the scissors. “What are they for?”
Lady Am smiled. “Ellie’s request has been noted,” she said as she picked up the collar and dramatically stepped toward Elizabeth. “But you’re already looking like a sheepdog, and that just won’t do. Now, tell me the safeword?” It’d be the last request she made that night.
“Perfect. See you later, Elizabeth.”
Still wondering about the scissors, Elizabeth bit her lip nervously as she closed her eyes and felt the leather of the collar slip around her neck.
When Ellie opened her eyes , Lady Am smiled down at her and caressed her cheek softly. “Hello, darling.”
As always, Ellie’s emergence was met with the reward of a soft, gentle kiss, paired with a telling tug on one of the rings on her collar to silently remind her of her place. “You look absolutely lovely tonight, my pet.”
Ellie’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you, Mistress.”
“Your hair especially. You always look exquisite when it’s curled.”
Pride warmed Ellie’s heart, even as she slid down to her knees. “Thank you, Mistress. Do you think I’ll be able to wear it down tonight?”
“When we get to the club,” Lady Am said. “I don’t want any of the plebeians we pass along the way being tempted to take liberties with it. Who knows how sticky and disgusting their hands might be.”
Ellie smiled. That was a reasonable compromise for a delightful allowance.“Thank you, Lady Am.”
“But first, stand up. I’m of the mind to tidy up my past work. Stand up.”
Ellie did as ordered, but kept her eyes cast downward until Lady Am tilted her chin up straight. It wasn’t so much to make eye contact – she’d have had to tilt Ellie’s chin higher for that – but just to get her head level and looking forward. With Elizabeth’s comb, Lady Am gathered Ellie’s bangs forward, forcing Ellie to blink a few times as her lashes were teased by the thick curtain.
“You have such beautiful eyes and features, my pet. And you just look so darling and adorable with the new bangs, but I think I may have been a bit too conservative with them, don’t you think?”
Ellie wasn’t sure how to answer…
It didn’t matter. Without pausing to wait for Ellie’s response, Lady Am lifting the silver shears to Ellie’s forehead and drew them across, slicing the soft, red-gold locks away level with her eyebrows. Ellie crinkled her nose as it was tickled by the falling locks, and then chewed the inside of her lip as she silently hoped that would be all she lost to her Mistress’s whim.
Lady Am smiled brightly, fluffing the shortened bangs with both hands before selecting random locks here and there to clip and trim with the tips of the scissors. A few more full-length tresses were pulled forward and sacrificed, but then Ellie was turned toward the mirror. “They look amazing!” Lady Am declared, not even asking whether Ellie agreed.
But she did – the shorter length new curtain of bangs showed off her eyebrows completely, somehow nudging her even further into her teen years in appearance. That was saying something, considering she’s be in her thirties before she was able to grow them out to the same length as the rest of her hair – assuming she was allowed.
Elizabeth would never complain, but the minute the collar came off, she knew she’d be dreading how the old farts in her office would start disregarding any ideas she offered in the meetings she attended. And how many times would someone ask if she was an intern now?
Nonetheless, Ellie declared, “I love them, Mistress!,” gasping when she recognized the pride she had shown. She tried to mitigate it by adding, “All the other masters and mistresses will be so jealous of how you can make such a plain pet look so good.”
Lady Am tried not to smile, and barely succeeded. The ever-so-slight lift to the corners of her mouth betrayed her, though, as did the amusement glinting through her eyes behind the fake lenses of her glasses.
“Come on, Ellie. Let’s get out of here before our boots are covered with the shit you’re shoveling.”
The spring night was cold, and Ellie was certain her nipples would have been stiff as heck even without the effect of being led through the South Street crowds by the leash her mistress held. She had gathered her wealth of hair up into a massive, untidy bun for the walk from where the car service had dropped them off to the club, but her shoulders and midriff were still left goose-bump-inducingly bare to the night air. She walked with her arms folded, biting her bottom lip nervously as so many people around her openly gawked and commented. Some even took photos, renewing both Ellie’s embarrassment and relief, the latter coming in appreciation for the leather mask that hid the upper half of her face.
Such was the cost of an exhibitionist’s streak in the age of the internet.
On a normal night, Ellie stood in awe at the respect her mistress demanded from lesser doms and their subs in the community , but tonight she was even more thankful for the benefits it garnered, most specifically being the fact that they did not have to wait for admittance in the line outside.
Following Lady Am up the wide stairs and through the front door, Ellie nodded to the two doormen. They both ignored her, of course, despite how much they admired the butter cookies she always brought to the annual Dom/sub softball fundraiser.
Once inside, Lady Am guided her toward the undressing alcove. Ellie held her arms out as her wrap-around was stripped away, followed by the two peekaboo panels that hid her perfectly pink pierced nipples. The mask was taken as well, resulting in the usual flush of “oh my god they might know who I am” embarrassment before the practical side of her mind reminded her how safe and respectful the club was. Then Lady Am repossessed the pins in Ellie’s hair, letting the glorious waves tumble free. Ellie shook it all out, loving its silky feel against her bare skin. As Lady Am handed their belongings to the masked slavegirl operating the coatcheck, Ellie arranged her thick hair to provide herself with just a bit of modesty.
Second Saturdays at the Club were something to behold – with all of the shops, restaurants, and vendors open late along the street outside, it wasn’t unusual to see more than half of the club members in attendance. Rather than the usual calm, sedate gathering of like-minded individuals, it was more like an actual party, with doms greeting one another enthusiastically and subs casting furtive glances to one another. There were even vendors who showed up inside the club; members of the community who would offer their services or goods without anyone having to worry about being judged for their interest.
Every now and then, when a request for his services would intertwine with a quiet moment in the music, Ellie could hear the rhythmic buzzing of a tattoo artist in one of the main room’s alcoves. Most vendors – those selling toys and clothes and the like – were set up in the large room that formed the old building’s basement, but those that had a performative element, such as branding and piercing, were sometimes allowed up here in the main room.
As always, Ellie walked in her mistress’s favored posture, with her hands clasped behind her, forcing her to arc her back and accentuate her figure. In the past, restraints had been used, but it only took one tipsy, unbalanced evening to recognize how wrong that could go. So, now, restraints were only for punishment when she forget to stand straight, and Ellie had always been a praise-based sub, so she tried to do her best to make Lady Am happy.
A table circled by large chairs upon a dais on side of the large hall opposite the performance stage. Reserved for members of the Board or their doms, it had always been Lady Am’s first stop for socializing. Slipping the loop of Ellie’s leash around one of the spires rising from the back of her chair, Lady Am then circled around the table, saying hello to other Board members, cordially embracing and kissing cheeks or having her hand kissed. It was all very formal and yet somehow casual, a rare moment of seeing so many regal souls let their hair down a little.
But only a little.
Champagne was brought by masked servants, individuals who resided outside of the Club’s power structure but were paid well enough to maintain discretion in their off hours. A public whipping might not be an option for keeping them in line, but the potential to lose out on tips from a captive audience – in some cases, quite literally captive – was sometimes an even stronger threat.
Ellie only drank when Lady Am handed her a flute of champagne to drink from. Looking down at her from the dais, her mistress loomed even taller than in Ellie’s imagination, and Ellie found herself purring softly as Lady Am stroked her fingers through the abundant waves of her hair.
“I love the new bangs,” a resonant voice rumbled. Master Xan appeared over Lady Am’s shoulder. He was bare chested tonight, something Ellie could appreciate in in her most girl-oriented of moods. A gentle smile contradicted sharp features, and his dark brown eyes always somehow seemed to be overwhelmingly bright and friendly within his dark complexion. Atop his head, blonde curls riotously fought gravity to reach for the sky. When her collar was off, Ellie knew him as Alex, a father of two who owned a landscaping business and was married to the Chairwoman of the Club’s Board. Currently, she knelt a short distance away. A leather harness with a mouth plug made conversation impossible, so Ellie just waved.
“Ellie, Master Xan complimented you,” Lady Am said sternly.
Ellie began to apologize, but Master Xan cut her off. “Actually I was complimenting you, Lady Am. Assuming it was your idea.”
Lady Am smiled warmly, tilting her glass to him. “In that case, thank you. She really does look adorable with them, doesn’t she?”
“As always. You should be proud she reflects on you so well.”
Ellie glanced downward, unable to fight the warmth creeping up her cheeks.
Master Xan motioned to his wife. “Bambi would kill to have hair like that. And while Bambi takes Master Xan’s compliments well enough when we’re here…” He smiled good naturedly, lighting up the room. “She tells me I’m full of shit once the harness comes off.”
“Same,” Ellie said.
Lady Am glared at her, but any harsh words were immediately disarmed by Master Xan’s laughter. “Yeah, it’s the sort of problem you never hear much about except from the married couples here.”
The two doms talked for a few minutes more as Ellie stood nearby, nervously stroking her hair. She let her eyes wander around the room, taking in the sights as small bondage scenarios played out in various areas designed for such things. The extent to which attendees dressed for the occasion ranged from “barely noticeable” to “barely legal,” and Ellie was well aware she landed in the latter. It was always a treat to see how others interpreted the roles they played, though Ellie often looked away whenever pain play come to the fore.
After Master Xan left, Lady Am finished her champagne, took hold of Ellie’s leash, and stepped down from the dais. “Let’s take a walk, since you seem to be so…” Her eyes pulsed wide, teasingly, “…Chippy tonight.”
Ellie bit her lip and flushed. “My apologies, Mistress. I spoke out of turn.”
“You most certainly did. We’ll just have to see whether that comes back to bite you. Literally.”
Ellie assumed the preferred posture and followed her mistress as Lady Am walked through the crowd, continually nodding and smiling at other doms and, sometimes, slightly raising an eyebrow in acknowledgment of a pet she knew outside the boundaries of the Club. They paused at the temporary setup where the tattoo artist was working. His canvas at the moment was a young woman with sun-kissed skin. She hung, spread-eagle, from a metal framework as huge angelic wings were drawn on her back, the sharp buzzing of the artist’s tools whirring in time with the canvas’s whimpers of pain.
At least, Ellie assumed they were pain. A second pet knelt between the woman’s spread thighs, her masked face nuzzling into the dark curls there.
“Hmm,” Lady Am remarked. After a few moments, they moved on, coming to an alcove where a man dressed as a 1920s barber – bowler hat, twirly mustache, white shirt and the little bands on his upper arms – but with leather pants and a mask that looked to have been borrowed from the Green Hornet tended to his current client.
Unlike the tattoo artist’s canvas, this subject was not enjoying the treating at all. Strapped into a short-backed stylist’s chair, she couldn’t hold back her sobs of anguish as her hair – beautiful brunette locks with caramel highlights that, for the most part, fell well past her shoulders – was peeled away from her head by a set of hungry clippers. The ball gag that had been fitted between her lips made it an especially messy, embarrassing affair, with bindings around her ankles and wrists being sure she stayed in place as her crowning glory was shorn away up to a line an inch or so above her left ear. Given how the locks above were fastened into a wild topknot but everything else fell free around her shoulders, it looked like the barber was planning to go all the way around.
As the long, dark locks fell away, a bald slave dressed like a cigarette girl picked them up from the floor and laid them out on the tray suspended from her shoulders. Nearby, the victim’s master stood, watching with a smile of approval.
Ellie found herself nervous for some reason as she watched, and it only grew when she noticed how intently Lady Am was watching. Never looking away, she licked her beautiful lips, and motioned to take a drink form the champagne flute she no longer held. Noticing her empty hand halfway through the motion, Lady Am cleared her throat and leaned toward Ellie so she wouldn’t have to speak too loudly. “Glenlivet, Pet. On the rocks.”
Ellie nodded, feeling the full weight of her leash tug at her collar as her mistress let go of it. Scotch meant she was cooking something up, and Ellie wasn’t sure she liked the idea of that happening in front of someone holding a pair of hair clippers.
Private clubs meant private bars that were run smoothly, without patrons needing to wade through hoards of people while trying to get a bartender’s attention. So, Ellie found the wait to be served nice and short, though the barmaid’s first words to her did not spark hope of the interaction going well.
“Did you want soda, or water?” the woman asked.
Ellie blinked. “I… I need a Glenlivet on the rocks for my mistress.”
The barmaid smirked, looking Ellie up and down. “Right.”
Ellie stammered, but the barmaid held up a hand, “I get that this place is 18 and up, and that’s fine, but I’m not giving alcohol to someone underage. Sorry. Your mistress will need to come get it herself.”
Ellie just looked at the woman, gesturing to the outfit she wore. “Where do you think I’m keeping my I.D.?”
The barmaid shrugged.
“I can vouch for her,” Master Xan said as he approached the bar. “And more importantly for you, so can Bambi.”
The barmaid looked skeptical at first, but with a quick glance back at Bambi and a realization that she was the one who signed the paychecks, the barmaid nodded and started fixing the drink. Once she had the drink, Ellie curtsied to the barmaid and to Master Xan, and whispered her thanks to Bambi as she passed.
By the time she returned to Lady Am’s side, the poor woman in the barber’s chair had half of her hair shorn away. The barber was working carefully to shave away any and all remnants of the dark locks on the woman’s nape. She did not seem to be crying as hard as she had been, maybe due to knowing it was a lost cause at this point.
“That took longer than it should have. You missed her orgasm. It was impressive.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress. I had trouble getting served. They thought I was underage until Master Xan intervened.”
Lady Am looked at her, brow furrowed as she looked Ellie up and down. “Seriously?”
Ellie nodded. “They wanted to see my I.D., but…” Ellie gestured to her outfit.
“So Master Xan had to help? That’s unfortunate. I didn’t foresee you being so cute it would inconvenience other doms.”
Lady Am slipped into quiet reflection, and although Ellie wanted to assure her that Master Xan didn’t seem bothered, she didn’t think contradicting her mistress’s thoughts would be smart. Maybe the other dom would happen by and could explain on his own.
Lady Am sipped her drink as the barber began finishing up, making sure everything was perfect and running his hands over the smooth skin he so callously and professionally exposed.
“How do you think I’d look like that?”
Ellie’s mouth fell open. “Your hair?”
Lady Am rolled her eyes. “Well I’m certainly not going to let him strap me down. Yes, my hair. Now answer the question.”
Ellie looked at the perfectly curled ponytail bobbing around behind her mistress’s head. Conflict exploded within her own head, knowing Lady Am would look amazing however she wore her hair, but also not wanting to lose those soft, silky locks to the brutal barber.
“Please no,” she whimpered.
Lady Am raised an eyebrow.
“I just… I just love your hair, Mistress. You would look amazing, but I would be sad that it was gone.”
“Mmhmm.” She took another sip of the scotch. “And if I told you one of us was going to sit in that chair? Would you give up yours to save mine?”
All of the thoughts racing through Ellie’s brain stopped. Everything just went… dead quiet. Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached up to stroke the long locks falling in front of her left shoulder. Lady Am continued waiting for an answer, and Ellie knew the pit she was digging herself only grew deeper with every passing second. The right thing to say was yes, Ellie knew that, but she till couldn’t get herself to form the word. Just as surprisingly, she couldn’t get herself to say no, either. The idea of being strapped in that chair at her mistress’s command… but no! No the results would be terrible!
Another long sip, and then Lady Am turned fully toward her. Ellie knew her time had run out. “We may need to teach you a lesson about vanity soon, Pet.”
“It’s not my decision to make, Mistress,” Ellie finally said. “I belong to you.” She held her breath and bit her lip, relief rushing through her as Lady Am turned away from the performance area completely and started toward the piercing setup.
Before they were many steps away, a young voice called out, “My Lady!” The cigarette slavegirl suddenly appeared in front of Lady Am, curtsying an apology and making sure her eyes remained cast downward. This resulted in the lights from above forming a small halo at the crown of her shaven head, something that intrigued and repulsed Ellie in equal measures. “If you have a moment, my master was hoping to speak with you.”
Ellie suddenly felt colder than she had all night, which was saying something.
Lady Am nodded, and turned back toward the Barber’s area. She needed to tug Ellie’s leash a little harder than usual to get her moving.
“Master Edward, what can I help you with?”
The barber tipped his cap. “Good evening, Lady Am. I just noticed you and your pet watching, and … well, there’s no real way to break into this easily, so, I’ll just say it. Without any insult meant, I was wondering whether you’d consider selling your pet’s hair.”
Ellie’s heart stopped. Sell her hair? What? … What? No! Of course not! What sort of place did this guy think this was?
“It’s absolutely beautiful, so I’ll understand if you say no, obviously. But I think I could make a fair offer. That color and length is rarely seen, and I have some clients who would be very appreciative of it.” He hesitantly lifted a hand. “May I?”
Ellie started to back away, but a sharp tug of her leash brought her forward again.
“Of course,” Lady Am answered.
The barber stepped close and ran both hands through Ellie’s hair, causing her to tremble in fear and delight as he treated her like an object to be haggled over right there in front of everyone.
“Yup, just as gorgeous and soft as I thought. A true testament to the care you give her.”
“How much of it did you want? I saw you giving the other woman an undercut.”
The barber nodded. “That was at her owner’s request. Like I said, what’s so remarkable about your pet’s hair is the color and length. While the color is rare, it’s less valuable at a shorter length.”
“So, you’d like…”
“All of it.”
The phrase hit Ellie like a punch in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. This… this had to be a joke, right? This was Lady Am trying to teach her a lesson about who she belonged to, about her place in the world and how she should watch her mouth and attitude? Right? …Right? Tears started to well up, and Ellie was sure her heart had stopped completely as even it waited to hear the resolution of this.
Lady Am turned to her, running her fingers back through the thick, generous mane that was being bartered over. Ellie kept her eyes cast downward, not wanting to upset her mistress by bursting into tears if she accidentally made eye contact. “As beautiful as your own girl is, I have no desire for a bald pet.”
The barber waggled his hand in front of her. “Consider ‘all of it’ to be me rounding up, then. It would be cut quite short, though.”
Ellie closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.
“And how much will you pay?”
The man gave his price, and Ellie involuntarily squeaked. It wasn’t money they needed, but it was a healthy amount. Enough to treat themselves to desires that were deemed too frivolous to afford on their paychecks alone; maybe even a nice long weekend somewhere.
Ellie finally looked up, catching the way Lady Am was looking at her hair. Her mistress’ fingers moved through their length so slowly, so kindly, fingernails lightly brushing against Ellie’s nape as they did.
The corner of Lady Am’s mouth flicked upward, and Ellie’s heart dropped. “My pet contributes to the household finances,” the mistress said as she held the end of Ellie’s leash out. “She needs to look professional.”
The man nodded. “She’ll look just as presentable and adorable as she does now.”
Lady Am pulled the leash back from the man’s outstretched hand just a bit. “No, not adorable.” She tilted Ellie’s chin up so she could look her in the eyes. “She’s twenty-six years old. I’d like her to at least be able to buy me a drink on her own without being carded.”
Both the barber and his pet blinked in disbelief, and then the man nodded.
“Mistress, please,” Ellie whimpered. The man tugged on her leash, pulling her off balance as she plead with Lady Am. Before she regained her balance, she was inside the cordoned-off area, and Lady Am simply sipped her drink and wiggled her fingers in a wave goodbye.
“You have some really good genes, ma’am,” the cigarette girl murmured quietly as she placed her hands on Ellie’s shoulders and guided her toward the barber’s chair. “But they always say cute ages better than beautiful.”
“Please, don’t. Please…”
The cigarette girl turned Ellie around in front of the chair and nudged her backward, causing her to topple down into it. The barber ran his hands back through her hair again, gathering it up and over the back of the chair.
“Lady Am, please!”
Silently, her mistress watched. A crowd began to gather already, drawn by the promise of a good show. Unwilling participants were always popular.
Ellie bit her lip as her breath started coming in gasps when cigarette girl locked her ankles in the lower cuffs. Escape wasn’t going to happen, apparently. But she could still make her mistress proud. Or at least she could try. The barber took each of her hands and pulled them behind the back of the chair, cuffing them together. Ellie tugged and pulled, but these weren’t the in-name-only, half-hearted bonds she and her mistress played with at home. The barber was serious about his work.
The way he secured her wrists, she was forced to lean forward, almost like she was riding in a saddle. The purpose of that became clear, she realized, when Cigarette Girl lifted a section of the chair’s cushion to press right against Ellie’s sex.
Ellie looked at the woman in complete confusion, not even flinching as the barber attached clips to the D-rings of her collar to hold her head in place. Cigarette Girl smiled at her and flashed a small control she held in her left hand. With a flick of a switch, a low rumbling started between Ellie’s thighs, sending an unexpected shockwave up through her body.
“Oh, fuck….” she murmured.
“Kim, is everything set?” Master Edward asked as he sorted through various tools behind the chair.
“Yes, Master,” the cigarette girl replied. She smiled, almost teasingly at Ellie, and ran her fingers through the long, silky tresses that had always been Ellie’s crowning glory. She gathered them forward, letting their bulk fall in front of Ellie’s shoulders, resulting in some sad, theatrical groans from the crowd when the red-gold locks hid her breasts.
Ellie looked to Lady Am, silently begging with a furrowed brow for this to stop before it was too late. But Lady Am just watched, standing next to Master Xan and Bambi, her little pink tongue peeking out to lick her lips so seductively.
Everything about the moment, all of it, was working against her – teasing and taunting her body into relishing and reveling in the sensations that built within, fooling her stupid, stupid clit and heart and nipples into thinking they were enjoying this, into thinking that this wasn’t the most terrifying experience she’d ever been through.
“Please no,” she whimpered again, the words shaky and uncertain as the rumbling seat urged her to just give into it all.
“Don’t worry, hon. This won’t take long,” the barber assured her. He stood at her side and motioned for his slave to come close. Then he slipped his fingers through Ellie’s hair, her long, beautifully curling hair, and gathered a thick, heavy lock that had forever hidden her left ear. Ellie tried to jerk away, but the straps now connected to her collar refused to let her, and she was forced to remain as still as a willing participant. The back of the barber’s fingers rested flat against her temple as they held the trapped lock, and, without fanfare, his scissors ruthlessly snipped across its width.
From the corner of her eye, Ellie saw her gorgeous hair slink away, yielding to gravity’s curse to curl up in a pile on the floor by her foot. Cigarette Girl bent down quickly, gathering the lock and setting it across her tray. Teeth biting down on her lip and eyes clenched shut, Ellie braced herself as another lock was seized and the barber’s fingers once again cruelly taunted her by letting her know just how short he was chopping her magnificent mane.
The rasping crunch of the scissors echoed in her ears above the murmur of the crowd. A sound she had never heard so clearly before, it echoed in her consciousness, barely fading before another touch, another crunch and another silken caress against her shoulder as her hair fell away.
Tears began to fall by the time her left ear was completely bared, exposed to the air without hope of being hidden for the first time in her life. But even with the tears and the despair, even with the restraints and the cuffs, Ellie’s hips refused her command to remain still, to refuse to show the pleasure of moment coursing through her body. No, instead they forced themselves forward, pressing hard against the vibrating padding in a fervent plea for it to grow just a little more intense.
Once he had stolen away the gorgeous fall of hair that had hidden Ellie’s ear, the barber started holding his fingers vertically against her head, starting high near her crown and working his way down after each severed lock. The pile on Cigarette Girl’s tray grew and grew, every treasured lock being set down reverently on top of the others.
“This is all going to make a gorgeous wig,” Cigarette Girl told her. Then, leaning forward, she added, “Though sometimes it goes to a sex doll. That’s where the real money comes from. You’d be stunned what someone will pay for a doll that has hair like you have.” A pause as she glanced down to the tray, “Had.”
Insistent hands pushed Ellie’s head down, forcing her to have a view of nothing but her own salacious, rocking hips and the tray of her coveted hair. The barber stroked her remaining hair lovingly before resuming his work again. Her hair, so strong and healthy, resisted as much as it could, but, without fail, it always yielded. Again and again the rasping blades mocked her; again and again her head grew a little bit lighter as her heart raced a little faster.
“I may have to increase the price for your Mistress. I had no idea you had so much hair!” He chuckled softly at her resulting whimper. “How about we see whether your right ear is as cute as the left?”
And there it was – one final, gut-wrenching rasp, one insistent crunch she couldn’t avoid hearing, and suddenly every last bit of her long hair was gone. Stolen. Taken from her by someone else’s choice, as if she was nothing more than a belonging. Master Edward stepped in front of her and lifted her chin to the crowd. “Quite a difference so far, isn’t it?” he asked. A swift pass of his fingers brushed her thick bangs aside. “How many of you would recognized her as the Rapunzel who strode around so confidently earlier tonight?”
A brutal lesson in vanity was being delivered, for sure. But still, she felt that terribly persistent chill of pleasure nipping and nibbling at the edge of her soul. The vibrating seat had never quickened, but seemed all the stronger now that both of her breasts were exposed, her pierced nipples naked to the air and to the eye of everyone gathered around to see the pretty girl shorn and shown her place.
Kim the Cigarette Girl disappeared from view, carrying away the last glimpse Ellie would ever have of her beautiful, silky, abundant red-gold waves and curls. When Kim returned, she carried a mirror and braced it on her tray.
Ellie turned away, but the Master Edward took hold of her chin and forced her to look. She knew better than to keep her eyes closed, but she wished she hadn’t once she saw the bird’s nest that remained of her cropped locks. Just… wild angles as no length remained to hold the thick tresses down against her scalp. Whereas she once had a mane of flowing silk, now she only had a head of careless cowlicks, no two pointing in the same direction.
Tears she had been fighting to hold back streamed down her cheeks, but still her hips kept moving. Her lone moral victory was that she managed not to sob out loud.
“Don’t worry,” Master Edward said as he moved behind her again. “We’ll get you neatened up.”
Ellie had almost caught her breath when she heard the loud pop, followed by hungry buzzing behind her.
“Chin down,” the barber ordered, the heavy weight of his hand on the crown of her head taking away any choice she had to disobey.
“Please no,” she whimpered.
“Remember, Edward,” Lady Am called out. “Professional.”
No verbal reply came; instead a cold plastic comb touched Ellie’s vulnerable, naked nape and began to move upward. The high-pitched whirr dropped in pitch when the blades met the first tresses of her ruined hair, but with quiet insistence the barber continued to lift them along Ellie’s nape.
“Oh, god no…” Ellie whispered. She didn’t want to be bald, she desperately didn’t want to be…
Her body jerked tight as the chair suddenly rumbled with life between her thighs. Cigarette Girl giggled cheerfully, and suddenly the vibrator nestled against Ellie’s sex began to roar and purr in time with the clippers. Ellie’s eyes closed as her mouth opened, and she finally found herself able to fight against the pressure of the barber’s hand on her crown – only not in an attempt to escape, but in an attempt to ride the waves of pleasure even harder.
“Oh god, oh gods, “ she breathed, unable to comprehend how she was suddenly enjoying this moment. What kind of cruelty was this, to do this to her helpless body while her vanity was taken from her?
Ellie didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She could tell every pass of the clippers up the back of her bowed head came a little easier than the one before it. She could feel the last vestiges of her hair falling against and laying on her shoulders before flippant flicks of the barber’s fingers sent them to the floor.
Soon, her head was roughly lifted to look forward, The clippers settled against her temple and rose again, moving in time with the rhythm of the vibrator.
“You love this, don’t you?” Master Edward said.
Ellie refused to answer, but definitely wasn’t crying anymore. She couldn’t if she had wanted to.
The barber moved to her right, roughly holding her in place as best he could as he neatened around her right ear… or at least made it neater than it had been. Ellie hated it, hated every minute of it, but found herself on the brink of screaming out and soaking the chair beneath her. Being humiliated like this, exposed so brutally on the whim of her mistress… she wanted all of it and so much more.
Even as she continued rocking her hips, the clippers went quiet. Master Edward ruffled her bangs; once considered short, they now felt ridiculously long compared to everything else.
“Less cute, you said?” Master Edward asked Lady Am.
Making eye contact with Ellie and smiling,Lady Am nodded.
The clippers roared to life again, Cigarette Girl turned the vibrator up, and Master Edward plunged the blades through Ellie’s bangs, sweeping back to the crown of her head as the locks of silken red and gold fell away. Ellie came hard, screaming every bit as loudly as she feared she would, rocking hard down against the seat, wriggling as much as the damned restraints would let her.
Waves of pleasure ripped through her, washing away the fear and angst she had felt about losing the long hair that had been her trademark for so long. Master Edward looked down at her, smiling as he waited for her body to let her settle. Cigarette Girl kept toying with her, though, quieting the vibrations before kicking them on again, teasing Ellie’s super sensitive body again and again.
Finally, a mercy.
Ellie slumped in the seat, gasping for air as she could almost hear all of her blood rushing to her cheeks.
Everything that followed was a bit of a blur; Master Edward neatened her up for real, making use of his clippers again and again, and then his scissors and even a razor. Ellie had been shown the final result, but wouldn’t have been able to describe how it looked if offered all the money her mistress had been paid for her red-gold mane.
All she could remember was the care and the caresses; the gentle touches of mistresses and masters; slaves and pets alike as they cooed over her new hairstyle. But it all passed so quickly, and somehow without remembering how she got there, Ellie found herself in the shower with Lady Am, and then in bed, where her Mistress bid her goodnight and held her close.
Elizabeth spent a long time looking at the ceiling when she opened her eyes the next morning. She wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually she worked up the courage to reach a hand to her head, scrunching her eyes closed when her fingertips first met the soft bristles where her super-cute bangs once were.
She rand her hand back, feeling her breath quicken as her palm moved over the velvety wheat field that remained. Taking a deep breath filled with resignation, Elizabeth set her feet to the floor and pushed herself out of bed, turning on a light and stepping toward the mirror as her reflection came into view.
It still had her eyes, still had her perky nose and the freckles that adorned it. Her cupid’s bow lips, currently being teased by a nervous tonguetip, were still there, too.
And so were soft, round cheekbones she had never noticed before, and a long, elegant neck and sharp jawline. Cute little ears were free to be kissed by the sun come Summer, and the color of her hair, the beautiful, red-gold shade that had garnered enough envy that someone would offer to buy it, was still there.
But her hair itself? Not so much. She wore a boyish crop now, an eighth of an inch at most on the sides and shorter at her nape. Maybe a half inch or so on top, with just a hint of a potential part some day down the road. She straightened her back and lowered her hands, turning her head this way and that as she took her visage in.
Her hair definitely wasn’t cute anymore. She wasn’t cute anymore. No, she was striking. She was hot. A hot twenty-something-year-old woman, not a teenage cutie.
“Holy fuck,” she laughed.
A soft squeak signaled the opening of the bedroom door, and Amanda, her features weighed with a nervousness Lady Am would never feel, peeked in. As per the usual, she was already dressed, with the lightest touch of makeup and her hair falling around her shoulders in gorgeous, glossy waves.
That meant only one thing – she’d already gone out and gotten breakfast, like a good mistress who really, really owes her pet some amazing aftercare. Sunday brunches were a tradition after nights at the Club, with the details of who paid and how much food they bought depending on whose fantasies were fulfilled. Elizabeth assumed she would be eating well this morning.
Elizabeth smiled. “Good morning.”
“Does the smile mean you like it?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I hate it. I really do. But it’s pretty fucking hot, right?”
Amanda grinned. “Totally.” She stepped close, nervously lifting a hand. Elizabeth stepped into the touch, letting Amanda’s palm slide over the curve of her nape, bristling up the short, perfect velvet that remained. Amanda’s other arm snaked around Elizabeth’s waist and tugged her close for a kiss, keeping her close long after the embrace ended.
“Thank you, Elizabeth.”
“Anything for you.” She had to bite back on the word ‘mistress.’
She let Amanda take her hand and guide her to the living room, where all kinds of pastries, muffins, and bagels awaited. The Great British Bake-Off was queued up, and, with a flourish, Amanda plopped herself down on the couch. Elizabeth followed afterward, nestling into the crook of her wife’s arm and pointing to the cherry danish she wanted first.
“We’ll split it,” Amanda insisted, breaking off a piece and holding it toward Elizabeth.
Elizabeth took it with her mouth instead of her hands, lightly sucking her wife’s fingers clean of any icing before teasing them with her tongue. She leaned close for another kiss, cooing softly as Amanda caressed her clippered nape. Without giving it much thought, she found herself climbing into Amanda’s lap, food forgotten for now.
Second Sundays, man.
They were the best.
And here you see the foray of someone who is incredibly vanilla himself into a very not-vanilla culture. Hopefully I didn’t embarrass myself or accidentally insult anyone.
Comments are appreciated — letting me know how I can improve isn’t a terrible thing.