Steve & Sarah Pays A Heavy Price

The Boss

 

“Are you sure this is the address he gave you?” Sarah Sanders asked her husband, looking around the place as he parked the car.

“Yeah, why?” he inquired.

“It’s a barbershop,” she said.

Steve Sanders glanced at the unmistakable red and white striped pole. “It’s probably just a front. Last time, I took the money, it was a garage. Dante probably used it as a front, you know.”

For some unknown reason, Sarah felt uncomfortable. If it wasn’t enough that they had to negotiate with a gangster to give them some more time to settle a huge debt, the venue was a barbershop. And Sarah did not know how she felt walking into the den.

“One way to find out…” she muttered as she trailed behind her husband.

He pushed the door, and they walked in, finding a couple of chairs and a barber in a white smock, cleaning his tools with his back to the door.

“Sorry, the shop’s closed,” he called out with his back still facing them. “You gotta come back tomorrow.”

Sarah had never stepped into a barbershop before. A weird tightness settled in her chest, urging her to leave. It felt wrong in a way she couldn’t name.

“Umm…no, actually, we are here for something else,” Steve said, making the barber turn around. “We need to make a payment.”

Sarah noticed that the man was middle-aged with a weird scar on his right cheek. He flicked his gaze between the couple, making Sarah sufficiently uncomfortable before nodding.

“Of course. Wait here,” he murmured and disappeared into one of the back rooms to make a call.

Sarah looked around the place, feeling uneasy at the sight of pictures of short male haircuts plastered on one of the walls. Each haircut was more brutal than the last. She could barely make out the difference between the flat top and high and tight or the crew cut, as all of them looked the same to her—bald. She glanced at her husband, who sported pretty long, layered, flowing blonde locks. The length reached the nape with natural waves, and there’s nothing she loved more than to fist his hair while he rode her into happy endings.

Sarah was a brunette, with her own hair almost touching her waist. She longed to color her hair and try the bangs for a change, from a premium hair salon in the city once her husband’s business took off. Sadly enough, they were neck deep in debt.

As the door swung open, a small bell chimed softly, and Sarah glanced up to see a man stride into the shop clad in a black leather jacket and jeans. Although she had never encountered Dante Cavallaro in person, his mere presence radiated the formidable aura of his reputation. He was tall and muscular, moving with a confidence that seemed to exude danger.

The barber emerged from the back, cutting the silence with a respectful nod. “Boss.”

Dante nodded and then turned around and locked the door. He flipped the sign to ‘CLOSED’ and looked back at the couple, his gaze moving from one to the other.

“I’m assuming you brought the cash,” he said, casting a sharp glance at Steve Sanders.

“I did,” Steve swallowed. “But… I’ve got 25 grand. I’ll need more time, Dante. Please.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, a smirk creeping in. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got balls. You were supposed to pay me six months ago, and now you show up with half… and ask for another month.”

Sarah stepped forward, her voice edged with desperation. “We have nothing left. We’ve sold our house, our jewellery—everything.”

Dante’s sharp gaze shifted to her. “And sweetheart, you really think you can come up with another 25 grand in a month?”

The question left her speechless.

The Contingency

Then Dante exhaled, almost amused. “Okay. For the sake of some fun, let’s say I’m willing to give you a month.” He tilted his head slightly, watching their reactions. “But you gotta earn it.”

The couple exchanged a look.

“Steve will take the chair,” Dante continued, gesturing casually toward the barber’s seat, “and let Mike give you one of his specials.” His eyes flicked between them. “What do you all think? Fair enough?”

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Steve cut in before she could speak.

“Okay,” he said quickly, almost desperately, “I’m up for it… If you give us a month.”

“Deal.”

Nervous, Sarah dragged Steve into a corner, hissing, “Are you mad?”

“Sarah, it’s just hair. I don’t care if he shaves me bald because it’s the best deal we are getting.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” she whispered back, dejected, as if the sight of him losing his hair would physically distress her.

The barber swivelled the chair, patting the leather in a silent command as Steve felt a little odd being beckoned to climb onto the seat. He was a little too old to be given a ‘penal haircut’, but as long as it bought him another month, he decided to swallow the bitter pill.

And as soon as the cape was snugged tight against his neck, he realized that it was a lot bittier than he expected. A strange mix of anxiety and shame twisted inside him, making him stiff with discomfort.

Sarah, too, felt a discordant heat of having to witness her husband’s forced haircut and decided to wait in the car when she was abruptly stopped by the masculine voice.

“Mrs Sanders,” Dante invited, leaning back against his seat in the waiting area and spreading his knees. “Come here. I want you to have the best seat in the house. I want you to watch your husband’s shearing.”

Flabbergasted, she looked between her husband and Dante. Steve gave her an apologetic look.

“You came here trying to save your husband’s ass, so you might as well sit through it, or the deal’s off,” he threatened, prompting her into quick action.

“Fine,” she whispered, striding closer with flushed cheeks as she delicately perched on Dante’s knee, and his hand found her hips to pull her closer. Her knee-length summer dress rode a little higher, still modestly covering her, but she doubted if it was enough.

“Go on, Mike,” Dante ordered when the barber even paused to see the sight and then picked up the scissors.

The Cut

The chair was still turned away from the mirror, and Sarah and Steve were forced to look at each other, each witnessing the downfall of the other.

She bit her lips when the barber fisted a random chunk of her husband’s hair and hacked through it, followed by another, and each hack was rougher than the last.

“That’s quite some hair,” Dante whispered to her. “I hope you were not too attached to his girlie goldie locks.”

Big chunks of blond hair were starting to cover the pinstriped cape before the barber moved to the back of his head. His head was roughly yanked, letting the sharp steel blades massacre the length and style he had sported for years.

But from Steve’s forced vantage point, he watched the visceral consequence of his debt to the mafia when Dante’s hand was casually squeezing Sarah’s hip, running idle fingers down her exposed thighs, and the goosebumps over the skin of his wife.

His breath hitched at the same time as Dante put a palm over Sarah’s breast, and the barber fired up the clippers. Sarah squirmed on his knee, fighting the raw urge of anger and pleasure, while her husband’s head was pushed down.

“Tell me, darling,” Dante asked, loud enough to reach her husband’s ear. “Who wears the pants in the marriage?”

He teased her in the same breath as the long, masculine finger circled her nipple, occasionally pinching to elicit a sharp moan out of her, almost making Steve’s neck snap up in response.

“Keep your head down,” the barber barked, pushing his head further down as he mowed the back of his head down to nothing. Big clumps of hair filled his vision as he struggled to see the view of his wife’s legs brushing against another man.

Dante casually touched the line of her bra strap and narrated the story of a man shaved from head to toe by the barber Mike, and how he loved shearing grown men into little boys’ cut, all because they were too prissy about their hair. And all the while reaching up to fondle her breasts like it was the most natural thing to do.

Sarah wriggled between the sensations of her heat and the sight of her husband’s half-bald head as the barber had moved to the sides, clipping the hair quite high around his temples. The raucous sound of the clippers did nothing to drown the voice of her tormentor, who mocked her husband’s current state of being a loser.

“Look at his head, Mrs Sanders. Your husband is almost an egghead.”

Or, “Those ears are so fucking ugly,” when the barber folded them down the shave around the perimeter.

Sarah truly struggled to keep herself upright as she was being touched in ways that made her feel treacherous heat rising. The barber finally released the grip on her husband, letting him look ahead. Sarah shot him an unapologetic look before the barber started to slice the hair on top.

Clumps of his wet hair fell onto his shoulders as it was cut down to barely an inch or less. Steve understood the cost of one month that he was paying with his precious hair, which he had maintained so meticulously till this morning.

And if that was not enough of a price, his eyes locked in on the sight of Dante sliding up the hem of the dress and carefully tugging aside the underwear to reveal the delicate folds of her pussy. Dante deliberately teased each and every fold until the hapless woman was writhing with edge, and her husband watched the sight of her defilement with an unblinking gaze. The digit slipped into her folds with minimal effort, and Sarah could not help but lean her head back against Dante’s shoulder with a moan.

“Steve, I think your wife likes your haircut,” Dante commented, fingering her throughout. “It’s making her very wet.”

The barber trimmed down the top even more and then picked up the clippers. The chattering teeth ploughed a balding strip into the middle of his head, which was further clippered down to create a faint U-shaped shadow. Since Steve was blonde, he looked almost bald.

The barber switched off the clippers and rubbed his head, almost mockingly, and Steve acutely felt the loss of his hair, having faced away from the mirror. Sarah knew, though, but she was powerless to stop the fate of her husband’s hair.

Birth of a Cuck

“What do you think, Boss? Short enough?” the barber asked, and it was the exact moment when Sarah teetered on the edge of her orgasm.

Dante knew it, the barber saw it, and her husband could only watch with abased pleasure of being reduced to a cuck.

“Well, his wife here wants some more, don’t you, sweetheart?” Dante asked, tweaking one of her nipples as she bit on her lips. Sarah was too enraptured to mumble a response and nodded her head in meek surrender, but Dante had other plans.

He pushed another finger inside her, none too gently, intensifying her pleasure.

“Say it,” he ordered. “Ask the nice barber to shave your husband bald.”

Sarah rasped, “Please, shave…him…bald.”

“Of course,” he returned gleefully.

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of the clippers silenced him. Whatever little hair he had was obliterated in seconds. The barber, too, took insane pleasure in being an exhibitionist of this depraved scene.

“Your husband is not only a dickhead, but an egg head now,” Dante said, fueling her need.

Through the haze of her reeling orgasm, Sarah watched as the barber spread a thick layer of foam across his scalp before carefully gliding a straight razor over it, stripping away every last trace of his hair until his head was completely bare.

“You’re gonna come on my hand while he’s bald as a baby, aren’t you?” Dante said, loud enough for everyone’s ears. “My good little prize. Show your husband that you are my sweet, obedient slut.”

Every rasp of the blade resonated against her clit, grating against her nerves, and it did not take long for her to ride Dante’s fingers to reach her climax.

When the barber finished with Steve, he brushed away the loose hair and pulled off the cape, exposing him to what felt like his most humiliating moment.

“Look at that, Boss, he’s got a boner!”

The men laughed at his expense as Steve looked away, unable to make eye contact with his wife.

“I guess he loves to see his wife getting it from a man,” Dante smirked.

The barber gripped Steve’s bald head, dragging his palm over the bare, gleaming scalp in a slow, humiliating gesture that made the shame settle deep under his skin.

“Or he loved his bald head a bit too much.”

“Oh, yes,” Dante added. “Mike, let me see his small dick.”

Mike grabbed him quickly and reached for the buttons of his jeans, and no matter how much Steve wanted to fight, he knew he was powerless to stop the barber from exposing him. He was already hard and aching, lost in a jagged, visceral humiliation of forced head shave and being a cuckold.

And when the barber grabbed him by the balls, squeezing them, he was almost brought down to his knees.

“Mike, don’t make him come,” Dante ordered. “I am not done with him yet.”

Unfinished Business

Dante stood up, gripped her arms, and forced her into the chair her husband had just vacated. Sarah panicked now because she knew exactly the fate of her hair and begged him some more.

“Please, please, not my hair. Please! You shaved him already!”

“Who said Mike’s going to shave your head?” He, then, turned to the barber, instructing, “Mike, give her the slut’s special.”

“Yes, Boss.”

She looked at him, half confused, half scared, before the barber took over. Sarah was stripped naked, her dress removed, and her underwear shredded, and Mike did not bother to put a cape on her. Her hair was pulled taut at the back in a low ponytail until the sound of clippers alive and changed its tone. In one fluid motion, the length was severed, and the barber threw the bunch of hair at her husband on the floor.

“Rub it. Rub it against your small prick,” he said.

Steve grabbed a bunch of his wife’s severed hair and brought it to his loins, and despite the utter shame, he was tight with pleasure.

The barber firmly pushed her head down and ran the clippers over her nape. The hairs caressed down her neck and gathered in her lap, as she was forced to watch the pile mount. Mike was quick enough to bare the back before her head was pushed to the sides.

Steve watched as the barber shaved her hair high, leaving her ears completely exposed. And when the clippers were finally put away, and the barber wet down her hair in vigorous motion, Sarah still had a considerable length on top.

The hair was combed down, lay over her face, and Mike slid his sharp scissors into her forehead and quite high above her eyebrows. He cut her a short fringe, and Sarah thought she could still live with a short bob with shorter bangs, but Steve saw the disaster already.

Mike did not just cut her short bangs, but a brutal short length all over her head. It was one of those extreme bowl cuts, the kind of style given to little boys as punishment. And Mike seemed to be an expert in taking it higher, given that he has done the ‘Slut’s Special’ quite a few times for Dante

Young women, vain and spoilt, would often end up in debt and beg for ‘chances’. They did not mind trading sex in exchange for money, but taking their precious hair taught them a lesson. Some were shaved from head to toe and everything in between, and in public, while some were shorn in this very barbershop with a male audience.

One time, Mike had made a woman sit naked in his chair after spanking her with his leather strop and then gave her a reverse mohawk. She learnt a lesson of a lifetime.

Sarah looked at her husband, and she felt anxious. When warm lather was spread over her back and sides, she understood that she was in deep shit. Sure enough, she was not bald, but the haircut was far from acceptable.

The scrape against her scalp sent a strange shiver down her spine—not pain, not quite comfort, but something in between. Her fingers curled slightly, and she wondered if it was the razor shave that made her husband hard. There was a debauched pleasure of a forced haircut, of being stripped by a stranger, in the presence of her husband, and the very carnality was reflected in her husband’s eyes.

Dante would often move his fingers in rhythmic, heavy circles, starting at the nape of Steve’s neck and dragging upward over the crown. His rough touch was accompanied by heavy taunts, ranging from his poor state to the sight of his wife getting a ridiculous haircut by the barber.

Mike, too, would often whisper in her ears. “Sit still and let me shave you.”

“Your husband took it like a good boy when I shaved his hair and oiled his head.”

“Someday, when you are tired of your hair and when you want someone else to take it, you will come to me.” Sarah almost shivered at the thought. “And if you fight me, I will show you exactly what I do to bad girls.”

“What?” she dared to ask.

Her ears were folded down and shaved all around.

“I spank the fight right out of them, until they are nice and obedient for my clippers. I will make you beg in ways for my razor, and you will bow your head while I shave you.”

Sarah sucked in a breath at the thought, at the vivid picture he described. While her brain screamed, her body sang otherwise. She wondered if the thrill of being shaved like a bad girl would be worth it.

“All done. One Slut’s Special bowl cut,” he announced, and spun the chair towards the mirror.

The Warning

 

Sarah did not recognise herself. It was simply an ugly look. Her forehead was too broad, her ears were embarrassingly stuck out, and the unflattering cap of hair on her head was pathetic. Her husband looked better than her with a shaved head.

She saw that Steve was vigorously pumping his dick, chasing his release while Dante wore a smug look.

The barber stood her up and touched her everywhere, under the pretense of dusting off the hair snippets. From her shoulders to her breasts and in between her legs, his fingers covered every inch of her body. He particularly enjoyed it when he tweaked her nipple, pinched her already sensitive clit and made her flinch.

Sarah knew she had no hair stuck between her ass cheeks, but that did not stop him from probing, bending her over his counter and circling her opening. She had never been touched there, not even her husband, but the stranger’s exploration certainly made her feel taboo.

The couple was finally allowed to dress and leave, but Sarah knew in her bones that she was coming back here, with or without her husband and much against her better judgment.

While Dante gave the final ultimatum to Steve, Mike whispered in Sarah’s ear. “If you let someone else cut your hair, I will know. And I will find you and make you pay for every inch of the hair lost.”