Taking Charge

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The scent of fresh coffee wafted as I shook off the morning exhaustion, sitting up in bed. Her side of the bed may have been empty, but the soft sizzling sound from the kitchen only warmed me. I carefully snuck out of the comforters, keeping myself silent as I treaded to the kitchen towards my sunshine. And there she was: still in her burgundy silk nightgown from last night, while eagerly flipping pancakes. Her favourite kind of breakfast.

Without a sound, I lunged– quickly but gently wrapping my arms around her body from behind. “Bridget!” she exclaimed, almost throwing the whisk into the sink. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Good moooorning, my sweet peach,” I simply responded, keeping that morning voice she could never resist.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she eased herself into my touch, softening up as she resumed flipping pancakes. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” I cooed, relishing the feeling of her in my arms. “When was the last time we could actually have breakfast together in the morning?”

Lisa chuckled. “It’s been a long month, but it’s done now. I promise no more early mornings for at least a year.”

“Good,” I commented, resting my head on her shoulder so I could look up at her gorgeous face. For the past month or so, Lisa had been the busiest bee, organising some big conference at her university. She was always the first to leave home in the morning— when I wake up, she’s either just about to leave or she’s already gone, leaving me all alone till I get to see her in the evening. While I’d secretly hoped that some mornings (especially the weekends) she’d have the time to sit for at least coffee with me before going to work, she always ended up disappearing before I could catch her— either off to work, or locked in meetings in her home office till late.

But now that she’s actually here, in the flesh, on a Saturday morning cooking breakfast for us— everything in the world was perfect again. “Anything I can help with?” I sheepishly asked, even though we both knew I’ve always had a bad track record in the kitchen.

“Fortunately for you, all the cooking’s just about done already,” Lisa replied as she plopped the last pancake onto the plate where the rest of the stack was. “But you can go get the syrup and fruits from the fridge before setting the table.”

“As you wish,” I said before giving her a peck on the cheek, letting go of her to go fulfil her request.

“Uh uh,” she waved the spatula in my direction to stop me as my hand was about to reach for the refrigerator handle, “wash your hands first. Lord knows the things you touched in bed last night.”

“Yes, Professor Chong,” I monotonously regarded her before guiltily slinking to the sink tap to clean off any remnants of last night’s pleasure.

Maybe it was just the fact that we hadn’t had breakfast together in forever, but it truly felt magical to just share a meal with her in the morning. It felt like the best start to a day I could ever ask for— and to think the day was only going to get better.

“So what you said last night,” she started as she took a small bite of her pancake, “was it… today?”

It felt as if she was reading my mind. “Mhm,” I simply replied with a smile as I chewed. “All planned out.”

Her face lit up instantly. “Perfect,” she said as her hand absentmindedly reached up to the messy mop on her head that needed a few hair clips to keep in place. “A great way to celebrate the end of something so stressful.”

“Although I could get used to seeing you with your bangs clipped up off your face— it’s adorable,” I teased, realising it’s been a while since she’s actually had her hair this long. Her usual crop was certainly way overdue, now with its layers growing out of control to cover her ears and creeping down her neck rather uncomfortably. If she hadn’t kept it all in place, she would’ve been rocking a mullet.

Please, it’s the biggest pain in the ass. I don’t know how I even put up with it this past month. I’m ready to be rid of all this,” Lisa confidently proclaimed as her fingers stretched out sections of her jet black hair from either side of her head. The way she said that last bit sent somersaults in my stomach, and I’m sure she knew exactly what she was doing saying it like that. No one knew the depths of my deviance as well as her, and she took massive joy in relishing it to my satisfaction (and in some cases, suffering).

“Don’t worry, in about-” I looked at my phone clock, doing the math before continuing, “six hours, you’ll be rid of it.”

If there was one thing that kept me well distracted this past month, it was planning for this day. You could say haircut days are a bit of a special occasion for Lisa— one that we both take effort in making special every time. For starters, it’s the one of the few days of a year that she actually ‘relinquishes’ a bit of control to me.

“I can’t wait,” she was stirring in her seat with glee, and I could only feel the same way as I sensed the anticipation humming from her.


Haircut day means planning everything— even the littlest of details. The moment she stepped in the shower to get ready, I started digging through her side of the wardrobe to find her the right outfit for the occasion, already envisioning how she was going to look with it after the cut. And it sent tingles right through my body. I laid it all out on the bed neatly for her, then started picking out my own attire.

I settled for my favourite cream-coloured dress shirt, tailored to a loose fit for my figure along with a pair of khaki trousers. I stand in front of the mirror as I buttoned the top up over my bra, steadying my breaths. We may have done this song and dance countless times already, yet it still doesn’t get any less nervous knowing I’ve got a big role to play. But my god the thrill is always worth it.

“You’re looking dashing as ever.”

I turned to see Lisa leaving the bathroom, towel still wrapped around her figure. Her jet black hair was all wet and slicked back, nicely off her pale face as she walked up to me. “And even in a bath towel you’re somehow still the most beautiful,” I returned the compliment.

“You can roll up your sleeves, honey— it’s summer. Don’t want to get too warm under there,” she said as she started folding the cuff of my shirt up my forearm.

Oh, I was going to be hot and bothered either way. “Thanks,” I said, keeping my arms outstretched as her delicate hands took their time to fold the sleeves so particularly before fixing on the sleeve garters.

“My clothes all ready?” She asked as she straightened up my shirt, making sure not a crease was in sight.

“All laid out on the bed,” I replied, her hands still stiffening up my collar.

“Perfect,” she said, sliding her hand onto my face. Her thumb slid down my cheek so delicately, all while her brown eyes stared so marvelously into me. Another reminder to myself that I could only be so lucky to have such a brilliant woman for a wife. “Everything all planned out, yeah?” She asked, her fingers stroking my wavy brown tresses that stretched to the middle of my chest.

“All planned,” I said, still thrumming in a mix of excitement and nervousness. “I’ll just have to make one last call to double check, then we’re all good to go.”

“You go do that and warm up the car, and I should be ready by the time you’re done,” she instructed before giving a soft peck on my lips. “Okay?”

No matter how many times I end up waiting in the car for her to step out of the house, it never gets old— watching her strut so confidently with the outfit I chose. Today she was in a short, spaghetti strap dress, with a layer on top that flapped about so salaciously. She’d taken the time to style that mop of hers into something so refined— neatly parted in the centre with her bangs lightly swept off to either side.

I swiftly got out of the car, rushing over to the passenger door to hold open for her. “You’re looking ravishing as ever, sweet peach,” I complimented giddily when she got close enough.

“Not as sparkling as you, pumpkin,” she spared me a kiss on the cheek before slipping gracefully into the car to take a seat. I took my place back in the driver’s seat, buckling up before shifting gears— ready to go.


I pulled up into the parking lot by the street, shifting the car into park before letting out a soft sigh. Just up ahead on that street was the spot.

“Ready, sweet peach?” I channelled that nervousness towards Lisa, mustering a smile.

“You know I always am,” she nonchalantly proclaimed. “Are you ready, though?“ I could only blow out a sharp breath to try and calm my nerves, silently praying I wasn’t going to mess anything up.

“Yeah,” I airily replied, biting my lip.

It still amazed me how she can be so calm (or at least, appear to be) in such a state— even on the first time we’d ever done this. You’d think having done this for about three years would’ve helped in making me less nervous of what was to come, but truly it still feels as jittery as the first time.

Oh, but I’ll never forget the look on her face after the first time— the fact that not only did she look so painfully sexy with a cut I’d chosen, but that she was so in love with it. And the part that still gets me was that she’d wanted more. It was only about a couple months after the first cut that she’d dropped the bomb on me while we were cosy in bed.

“So when are we doing haircut day again?” 

It was like floating in a dream— the fact that she was the one asking for it, when all along I’d already felt so apprehensive that she was doing something big for my pleasure.

“Hey, look at me,” she snapped me back as she slid her hand on top of mine that was still on the gear stick, rubbing the back of my palm tenderly. “You’re going to be amazing, pumkin. We’ve done this so many times, and you’ve only gotten better at this. It’ll just be like any other time.”

Well… except it wasn’t, exactly. But I wasn’t going to tell her that— I wanted to see the expression on her face when she sees it for herself. I’d taken the liberty to really spice up today’s ‘appointment’, and so I ventured into something we’d never done before. But hopefully one she’d still appreciate.

“Do you remember your safewords?” I asked.

“Yes, same as always,” she said. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay,” I said as I switched off the engine. “Let’s do it.”

With my arm snugly around her waist, we walked down the street to where our little fun for the day was to take place. Lisa was doing her best to hide it, but I could sense her eyes scanning around— trying to pick out where exactly we were walking towards. She was probably locked on to that distant salon on the opposite end of the street, already envisioning herself walking in there. Then we stopped.

“Here we are.”

There was a brief confusion on her face, but she quickly turned to see it for herself. “Oh,” her lips parted slightly when she saw the swirling pole, as she started to realise how ‘different’ today might be from all the other times.

“Still game?” I asked— partially to tease, but also as a precaution. I have a habit of being too merciful when I’m in charge, unlike her.

She took it all in for a moment. Then turned to me. “Of course,” her smile remained, unwavering.

“Good,” I gave her waist a little rub, then led her up towards the door that already had its Closed sign hung up.

The little bell on the door chimed as we set foot inside, marking our entrance to the sole person in the shop. She was busy fiddling with some tools by the workstation closer to the back of the shop, though she eventually turned to regard us. Donning a dark pair of jeans and a black ribbed tank that showed off her toned and inked arms, she was quite an imposing figure even from a distance. A choice I’d deliberately planned for in advance. Her blonde hair was neatly tied up in a short bun, off her stoic face that held little traces of her middle age. She was probably about to tell us the place was closed, then stopped herself short when she remembered.

“Hello,” I took the first move to greet, hoping this plays out like how I’d mentally planned.

“Hi,” she gave a short reply. “Haircut for you, ma’am?”

There was a tingle that reverberated through me, but I kept my composure. The question wasn’t much of a surprise, given I was the one with the heavier mane of hair that might’ve been expected to be shorn off. “No no, for her,” I corrected, turning to gesture to Lisa. It was heartening that she still seemed to be in high spirits, all while she was taking in everything about this space she’d never set foot in before.

“Okay,” the barber took her position behind the chair, turning it to face us before giving the cushion a firm pat, “have a seat.”

“Go on,” it was my turn to instruct Lisa as I gently nudged her forward.

“Yes, dear,” she gave me a peck on the cheek before slithering out of my grasp, giving me the most seductive look before marching ahead to the chair where she was to take her position.

I quickly sat myself down at the sofa at the back that served as the waiting area, just in time to watch Lisa sink herself into the barber chair so confidently. Even in a space that was entirely foreign to her— especially with the more than flattering attire she had on that contrasted her surroundings— her poise did not falter. She made the barbershop feel like any other salon she’d been to.

The barber turned the chair to face the mirror, pumping up the chair a few times to make sure Lisa’s head was at the right level. She unhooked a cape from the wall, spreading it out before flicking it above Lisa with a flourish. The blue pinstriped cape enveloped Lisa’s figure almost entirely, leaving only her gorgeous head unguarded. The barber pulled the ends of the cape back behind Lisa’s bare neck, but left it unsecured. She stepped forward to the dresser of her workstation, tearing off a piece of neck tissue from a roll.

As she started wrapping it snugly around Lisa’s pale jugular, she asked the fateful question. “How are we cutting it today?” She did it in a broad manner, as if aware that it might not exactly be the person in the chair that was deciding, but rather the one behind pulling the strings.

Oh, she’s due for a good cleanup,” I got to my feet in a flash, though taking a moment to steady my jellying legs before ambling towards the workstation. This role was never an easy one to pick up, even if it was for something I so carnally desired. “You’ve let it grow far too long, haven’t you, darling?”

“Mm,” Lisa affirmed through pressed lips, keeping on a neutral face she settled into her less vocal role.

“A short summer cut, then?” The barber chimed in as she fastened the ends of the cape together, making sure Lisa was adequately trapped in that chair.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I remarked with a smile, pleasantly surprised by the way this was all flowing. I think I’d made a great choice scouting this place out. “Something short and neat, to be precise. I want all of this,” I said as I began running my fingers through those overgrown sides and back of Lisa’s mop, “gone. Buzzed off. And for the top,” I playfully ruffled through her bangs, messing up the parting she’d made before leaving the house, “just leave it a little longer with the scissors. But still have it be a tight crop.”

“So we’ll do short back and sides with clippers,” the barber repeated to check, her turn to get her hands on Lisa’s hair, “and then leave the top a bit longer. Short enough she doesn’t have to style it much?”

My nails dug into my palms, trying to quell that hot rush that surged through me. Every crop that Lisa’s gotten has always been superbly short, but never has a stylist ever described it to be short in that exact way the barber did. “Sounds perfect,” I commented, already giddy for the action to come. I was so ready to settle in and take my place as the sole ‘audience’ when the barber decided to make this even more interesting.

“How about a buzzcut, then?”

For a split second following that question, Lisa and I made the most discreet eye contact with each other through the mirror. This was… unprecedented. I’d had plenty of stylists try to recommend something a little longer from time to time, which of course I’d swiftly turned down. But recommending something shorter than the already short crop that was planned? I could only hope I was prepared to play this out.

“Since we’re already leaving the top short that she won’t need to style it, we could just take it a notch down. Much neater cut, and would last a few more weeks before it gets all messy again,” the barber continued, ruffling through the top of Lisa’s mop to prove a point. “So we could do a number three on top, go down to a two for the sides, and then a bit shorter towards the neckline and sideburns,” she described the cut as her fingers traced from the top of Lisa’s head towards the cheekbones.

“Ah, that does sound like a good idea,” I settled back into my role, putting on an intrigued smile. But I couldn’t just unilaterally green light it— I needed to make sure this was something Lisa was okay with. “How’s that sound, darling? A buzzcut to keep cool this summer?”

Lisa was doing well looking unfazed in the chair, but I could see little cracks that revealed a hint of worry. “Won’t that be too short?” she said.

I bit my tongue when I heard those words. To the barber, it may have sounded like a soft plea— a worry that this might be going a touch too far. But Lisa and I knew very well what it was in our code. Green light. And the way she pulled it off was so convincing too. She really could’ve been on Broadway in another lifetime.

“Well I think it’s fair that we go a little shorter than usual since you’ve let it grow out way too long, hmm?” I retorted, still on the edge of handling my nerves carefully. “And like she said, it’ll just be a few more weeks worth of growth— so much easier for you to handle. It’ll only be good for you.”

Lisa gave a soft pout. “Fine,” she concluded, averting her gaze from me like the bratty sub she’s always loved to play on these ‘off days’.

“Be a good girl, now— I’m sure you’ll thank me after this,” I ordered before turning to the barber. “We’ll go with the buzzcut. Nice and short, but leave it soft and fuzzy so she’s got something comfy to rub, yeah? Oh, and don’t worry, she might look a bit stubborn about it, but I promise you,” I give Lisa one last firm look through the mirror, “she won’t be giving you a hard time.”

“Very well, ma’am,” the barber finalised, and I was finally making my way back to my seat in the audience.

I let out a hefty sigh as I sank back into the sofa, letting go of that bit of that tension I’d been holding onto. I crossed my legs as I stretched an arm across the top of the sofa, relishing in the comfort of this space that was to be our little theatre. The hardest part was over, so to say— and I think I did rather well. We’d had few attempts at high drama while she was in the chair, and I think this one really topped them all. Being the one ‘in-charge’ was never something that came naturally to me, but with a little bit of practice over the years I could at least give Lisa the satisfaction of being at my mercy, which she always enjoys.

In truth, she’s not a pure dom herself— she’d prefer to see herself as a switch that dabbled in both sides. Although with my natural sub tendencies, she took it upon herself to be the ‘permanent’ dom in our relationship. It was only after she found out about my deviance did things start getting interesting. Since I’d made it rather clear that my own hair was out of bounds (it’s not as good as thrill as watching others get their hair cut), she settled on the deal: I’d have to suffer being a dom for her pleasure, and in return she (and her hair) get to be at my mercy, for my pleasure.

The first few times we did it, I’d deliberately hedged my desires— opting for the ‘safer’ options while we navigated this sensuous escapade. We’d go to salons and play it off like a fun game, with Lisa making it seem like she was asking me for a second opinion, when in reality it was always my ultimate choice. We started off with the bob, which felt like a daring enough first step: a significant enough change from when she had her down to around her shoulder blades that gave me more than sufficient thrill, while also being safe enough that she could grow it out if she realised this wasn’t a game for her. Oh, but she was so quickly onboard with it— sometimes it feels like she was the one getting more pleasure out of it than I was.

And so we went shorter and shorter. Every time I decided on something further down the deep end, my nerves would only get more uncontrollable. Surely, there’d be a point that Lisa’d want to stop, where she’d decide it was short enough for her own liking? But after every single cut, she’d seem so much more thrilled than the last one, and the amount of relief and pleasure she filled me with was beyond words. The pinnacle of it was just about a year ago, when we’d finally found the signature look for her.

I’d booked a near-closing appointment at a cosy salon on the other side of town, where we were sure to be the only ones left in the shop without any other disturbances. This was one of the better salons I’d scouted, especially with the stylist I’d chosen who was a rather spunky one— the type that didn’t seem to shy away from doing short cuts, and would have a close to zero chance of ever trying to dissuade us from our fun. As usual, when asked how she was to have it cut, Lisa passed the torch to me.


“What do you think, babe? Short like always?” she asked, fluffing about her overgrown pixie that was slowly turning into a short bob at the time. 

“I was thinking maybe you should get it a bit shorter— like a little fuzzy on the sides too,” I answered, intending to settle on an undercut pixie.

“What if we do fuzzy on the sides, and just a bit longer on top?” the stylist asked, ruffling through Lisa’s hair. “Sort of like a finger-length crop?” 

In that moment, ‘finger-length’ was the sexiest unit of measurement I’d ever heard, and I remembered having to steady myself when it registered in my head. “Ooh, now that sounds like fun. I’d love to see that,” I expressed my desire.

Lisa’s lips twisted, turning her head from side to side as if trying to envision it in the mirror. “You don’t think it’d be a bit too short?” she asked.

She didn’t often use our deceptive ‘green light’ code, but when she did, she knew exactly when it would elevate the mood almost entirely. “I think you’ll look stunning as ever, darling— a nice, short crop would make you look so sophisticated and sexy. Trust me, you’ll pull it off,” I poured out the words I’d been secretly planning for the crop that seemed to be coming sooner than expected. It was a cut that I’d planned to suggest after a few more trips— we’d been gradually going shorter that naturally, it might’ve been an eventual destination. But it seemed like this stylist was unwittingly accelerating us down the path.

“She hit it right on the nail— it’s a very sophisticated look. Almost like an avant garde supermodel vibe. With your features, you’d carry it so brilliantly,” the stylist was more than onboard, scrunching Lisa’s hair close to the head to mimic the tight crop she was to get.

Lisa did a dramatic pause, looking as pensive as she could. “Okay, I trust you, babe,” she then finally announced. 

The stylist wasted no time jumping straight into it— sectioning off Lisa’s hair before getting all her tools ready. The clippers roared to life, and within minutes the locks on Lisa’s back and sides were devoured whole to reveal dark fuzz that contrasted so beautifully against her slightly tanned skin. At the time she wasn’t too much a stranger to the clippers— we’d dabbled in it for an undercut bob once, and had a couple cuts trying out short tapered sides. But this was the first time she’d really had it all uniformly short over the sides, and it was exhilarating watching her head bowed in submission as she lost all that bulk around her head so quickly. And to think that was only the beginning.

Once the stylist tilted her head back up to start on the top, Lisa and I glanced at each other momentarily through the mirror as we knew what was to come. When the stylist lifted up that first section of hair on the crown, with her palm resting on the shape of Lisa’s skull, I could tell she meant “finger-length” as literally as it could get. 

Every moment of the symphony of snips that followed was etched into my mind. Never did I have to cross my legs as hard, reeling in pure ecstasy as Lisa was delightfully shorn. Her eyes widened ever so slightly with each lock the stylist sliced off, swiftly turning that mop of hair into the most refined crop I’d ever seen on a woman.

I was soaked by the time the hairdryer was turned on, stuck in that dilemma of never wanting the cut to end, yet so impatient waiting for her to leave that chair so I could pounce on her after we’d left. 

I’ll never forget the airy “wow” that left Lisa’s lips when the final reveal happened— the way her hands were so cautiously exploring that novel landscape atop her own precious crown that had been sculpted immaculately. This was it: this was the pinnacle of what I’d desired when Lisa had dared to venture through the trenches of my deviance. Some could only have dreamed of setting foot down this path, let alone walk the full distance of it. 

When the cape was whisked off and the fee generously paid, we’d left the salon in a flash. We were holding onto each other for dear life as we briskly walked to the car, ready to blow at any moment. The moment I’d unlocked the doors, she half-dragged me into the back seat, shoving me onto the cushion before mounting me. She slammed the car door, and we went to town. 

“Do you like it?” Lisa eventually asked in the slyest of tones after we were embroiled in a liplock. 

“Lisa, you are divine,” I confessed with every ounce of me. “Every time we went shorter I thought we’d gotten the best one yet, but you keep getting hotter every,” I dug into her exposed neck, “fucking,” kissing my way up to those fuzzy sides, “time.” 

A devilish giggle escaped her as it was my turn to explore her crop, her hands clawing on my back while I indulged myself. “Watching you squirm while she cuts my hair never gets old,” she whispered in my ear as a hand of hers ventured downwards. “My naughty little Bridget, getting wet over watching me lose my hair.” 

I sucked in a gasp when I felt her fingers enter, holding onto her head for dear life while she had her own fun below. 


“Did you want me to turn her around? So you could have a good look,” the barber’s question snapped me back to the shop. Her hand was already on the back of the chair, ready to swivel for my pleasure.

“Hmm, no need,” I made the hard decision. “It’s her first buzzcut— I think it’ll be good for her to watch it happen.”

Lisa spared me a glance through the mirror while keeping her airtight guise, then quickly returned to just resignedly staring at her own reflection. “Okay,” the barber concluded before picking up her tools.

A loud pop cracked through the shop before a low, droning sound that filled the atmosphere. The barber returned to Lisa’s side, clippers armed in hand— ready to lift the curtains. “Head down a little,” the barber placed her free hand on the back of Lisa’s head as she instructed her, pushing it forward just enough that her bangs were dropping down onto her eyes.

I’d expected the barber to take the slow route with that move— anticipating her moving behind Lisa so she could start from the back and slowly work her way around the head. But the barber was rooted in place by Lisa’s side, hand firmly locked in the back of Lisa’s head while the clippering hand was raised. From the oblique yet ample reflection of Lisa I could see through the mirror, I watched as her lips parted when the clippers were finally brought up to her forehead.


I could’ve sworn I heard an audible gasp leave Lisa’s lips as the clippers sunk into her hairline. The barber made a clean pass with the clippers through the middle of her head, lifting it up once the blades had reached the back of the crown. With her free hand she nonchalantly swept off the loose bangs that had been shorn off of Lisa’s forehead, making sure it was clear for her to reposition the clippers again to begin another pass.

Bzzzaaaa. Bzzzzaaaa.

My legs immediately crossed themselves as I watched Lisa’s locks slide down her face like melted butter, all while she was fervently squinting so adorably while the hair cascaded past her eyes. God, what delicious suffering.

With Lisa’s head squarely tilted down on her own accord, the barber was easily manoeuvring the clippers all over the crown with her main hand. Meanwhile her free hand swept and flicked away at the loose locks that were made victim to the clippers’ blades, sending them tumbling onto the cape or the floor if they weren’t already cascading down. All that the clippers were leaving behind on Lisa’s crown was short, dark fuzz that stood up at attention— still thick enough that it seemed soft to the touch, but nowhere close to even touching her forehead. Guess she won’t need to worry about clipping up her bangs for a while. The cape was already sufficiently littered with her severed locks— and to think it was a pile that was only going to keep growing.

The barber was soon satisfied with the crown, making a pit stop by her workstation to replace the guard on the clippers in a jiffy. In that short moment, Lisa’s hair was such an amusing sight— with the severely short too contrasted against the sides and back that were still so long and unruly. When the barber returned to Lisa’s side, she tilted Lisa’s head off to her left, and my sweet peach obeyed in kind. Lisa kept her head steady as the barber positioned the clippers beside her right ear, then slowly moved it up into the unkempt locks that were to be neatened.

Bzzaaaa. Bzzaaaa. 

The clippers made a firm pass up the side of Lisa’s head, all the way till they reached just shy of the crown. The barber folded down Lisa’s ear as she ran the clippers around it. Jet black clippings were raining down the side of Lisa’s head relentlessly, finding their way onto the cape where they lay so helplessly. By the time she let go of the ear, not a single lock of her hair was at risk of touching her right ear free— something she’d surely been looking forward to this whole past month. There was a clear distinction in the fuzz that was left behind on the side compared to the top. While I may have been privy to understanding the talk of clipper guards and their numbers that the barber initiated before starting the cut, Lisa must’ve been rather intrigued at the shorter length being left behind around her ears.

The barber then tilted Lisa’s head back down once more, and this time to finally begin working on the back. Like a lamb, Lisa relented to the barber’s touch, though this time with less of a spectacle for her to watch. While her head was bowed down submissively and left to stare at the hair-filled cape, the barber continued her diligent work at the back, shearing it down to a soft, dark pelt. Tufts of hair were gathering at the back of Lisa’s neck, caught on that space of cape between her back and the chair. Every time it got too heavy, the barber would casually sweep it off with a free hand, sending some forward down the cape to join the growing mound in Lisa’s lap while the rest plunged to the floor.

I could see Lisa’s eyes shifting back up to glance at the mirror every so often, perhaps trying to catch a glimpse of the action, or maybe just out of pure curiosity of seeing herself with the shortest amount of hair she’d ever had on her head. She may have been used to short hair for a while now, but I’d imagine it’s still surreal every time you go that little bit shorter— let alone for a first buzzcut. But she’s been taking it so well, and I couldn’t be anymore satisfied with how things were going. Whether this was going to be a one-off or have the potential for a repeat for her future cuts was the least of my worries. I just wanted to bask entirely in that eternally fleeting moment of watching her get buzzed so exquisitely.

The barber soon transitioned to the left, where that last bit of length on Lisa’s head remained. The barber kept a similar stride here— holding onto Lisa’s locks with the fingers of her free hand while the clippers mowed through. Chunks of black locks were cut through so easily, then either thrown onto the floor by the flick of the clippers or swept off by the barber’s fingers.

If there was one thing I was wholeheartedly enjoying about this ‘different’ setting I’d chosen this time, it was certainly this poised woman that took charge of Lisa’s hair from the get-go. Unlike the salons we’d gone to a lot of the time that had their own brand of professionalism and care, the barber here seemed to take things on her own terms. For one thing, she wasn’t afraid to really get her hands on Lisa. Most of the stylists we’d encountered preferred to take it slow and have the utmost care while touching Lisa’s head— which of course, I still admired. But the barber had a ruthless efficiency to the way she worked. To her, Lisa was probably just another mop to be shorn, and it stirred me in all the right ways.

The guard on the clippers was flicked off, and the barber started working on the lower parts of the back and sides. She was careful here— making more calculated passes with the clippers as the parts closer to the neckline and sideburns were buzzed short enough that I could see Lisa’s skin. The barber took her time here, perfecting the taper that I was going to have so much fun running my hands up once we’d left the shop.

The humming of the clippers in the air soon came to a halt, and I could feel the tension lightening as I saw Lisa’s shoulders hunch a little in relaxation. For the first time since we’d entered the shop, the barber wielded a pair of scissors and a comb, going right into the sections between the top and the sides.

Snip snip snip. Snip snip snip.

There wasn’t really much to see, but the barber still worked meticulously as she blended in those two sections in a scissor-over-comb manner. The littlest of clippings were made, and Lisa kept her as still as a rock while the shears clicked away close to her scalp.

The comb was soon raised upwards, where the barber began making more precision snips towards the front of Lisa’s crown. The barber’s focus was on the ‘bangs’ (well, if you could still call them that) near the forehead, where the little tufts were still jutting out in different directions following Lisa’s usual centre part, even though they were too short to even part. She was in no hurry, taking her time to shape that front part of the hairline that was to frame her face with a few well-placed snips across the forehead.

It may have seemed like such a trivial step in a haircut like this, but my respect for the barber only grew— the way that even something as simple as a buzzcut had room for little bits of detail, which the barber took pride in to ensure was to her liking. The clippers may have done most of the legwork in making the top as short as a #3, but the scissors was the barber’s instrument to perfect this most elegant haircut that Lisa has ever had. Every snip she made felt deliberate, and a part of me didn’t want this show of an artistry to end.

When the snipping ended, the scream of the hairdryer came to life. The quick blast of air immediately blew off the hair around Lisa’s neck, tossing it along with the rest of the hair scattered across the cape down onto the floor. This was another entertaining part— watching Lisa having to squint so adorably while the hot air blew across her head and face. It didn’t last long though, especially since it wasn’t to exactly dry off anything, but more of a means to easily blow off all the loose hairs that still clung to her head stubbornly. The hairdryer was replaced on its hook, then the barber opened up a little cabinet by her workstation to pick out something.

Lisa let out a gasp as the barber wrapped a white hot towel across her neck. Lisa was really getting the full service here, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain getting to see all of it. After letting the towel sit for a minute, the barber simply tucked it into the collar of the cape before she returned to the counter. She pressed a button on a machine which whirred, dispensing out some white foam onto her hands. She gently applied it to the sides and the back, spreading it evenly across before wiping her hands on the towel.

“How would you like the sideburns done, ma’am?” the barber turned to me as she got out her straight razor, stropping it on a leather strap that was attached to the back of the chair.

“Soft and pointed on the sides, please,” I replied, feeling a rush as I realised I finally had the opportunity to give such instructions. The barber gave a slight nod before returning to Lisa’s head— tilting it softly to her right. “Make sure you keep real still, darling. That blade is very sharp,” I shot a little reminder to Lisa, who was eyeing the razor with some apprehension. It may have been her first time with an implement so deadly, but I’m sure she was going to get acquainted with it rather cordially.

Scrr, scrr.

The soft, scraping sound of the razor filled the silence of the room as I watched with rapt attention. Lisa was half-squinting at this point— perhaps expecting it to actually hurt, though it really only feels like a brief scratch at times. The barber wiped the blade after every couple passes, shaping the sideburns into a soft, pointed edge as I’d requested. She then folded down Lisa’s cute ear, sculpting the hairline that stretched all the way to the back of the neck.

Lisa’s head acquiesced to the barber’s touch, tilting it ever so slightly as she manoeuvred around the head. I don’t know how many times I’d already drenched myself during this entire cut, but this last scene of seeing her look so wary while her head was bowed down coyly, surrendering to the barber who was carefully wielding the razor— it was burned into my mind so vividly.

When the razor’s job was done, the barber set it back down on the counter before untucking the towel. She wiped off the excess cream on the sides and back, then deposited the towel in a laundry bin beside the workstation. After dusting off her hands, she turned the chair around— presenting my gorgeously neatened wife to me.

“Would you like to have a closer look, ma’am?” The barber gestured to Lisa, inviting me up for the inspection.

“With pleasure,” I replied, leaving my cosy seat in the audience to get on stage.

Lisa gave me only a brief glance before looking back down on the cape, still fixed on her docile character. I gently placed my fingers under her chin, slowly tilting her head whichever way I liked to fully examine this work of art. I started from the sides, running a thumb through that exquisitely tapered landscape. My teeth clamped down on my tongue hard as I glossed through that fuzziness, remembering this was the shortest length ever that ever graced Lisa’s head— and it felt splendid. I took my time almost ambling around the chair, admiring the detailed work the barber had put in to carve the sideburns and neckline. With a finger I teased those pointed sides, trying to evoke a little reaction out of her with a tickle, but she was resolute as a rock.

Then my attention was drawn to the top, where the real site of drama was. To think that I’d marched her in here this evening, expecting it to be another tight and chic crop that we’d she’d be walking out with. But those little tufts that were left behind on her crown were all that’s left. I took my time ruffling through the top, indulging a little prematurely. While that usual crop of hers at least had that possibility of grabbing onto her hair, this time it was virtually impossible— my hand simply slid through without any possibility of getting tangled through her hair. Guess I wouldn’t be seeing those cute clips all over her head for a while. Her jet black hair was all neatly shorn into a uniformed length, with even the front being cut so precisely that it didn’t framed her face so brutishly. Somehow, even with the most stereotypical masculine cut, she looked even more feminine and beautiful than she ever had. My little gamine charmer.

To say this buzzcut was a masterpiece would’ve been an understatement— it was an impeccable cut on the most ravishing woman the world has ever known. “I’m not a person that believes in the idea of perfection,” I started, “but I’d imagine this is as close as it gets. This is stellar work, I don’t think she’s ever looked better.”

“It’s my duty and pleasure,” the barber nodded, staying humble with a slight smile.

“Be sure to let her have a look at the back— I think she’ll definitely want to see how much neater it looks,” I said as I gave a final, teasing pinch on her jaw before moving back to the audience, awaiting the chance for Lisa to see it all for herself.

“Certainly,” the barber replied, reaching for the hand mirror on the counter before offering it to Lisa.

Lisa cautiously got a hand out from under the cape, accepting the mirror. She slowly held it steady in front of her face, lining it up so she could see the full cut through both reflections. I relished in that little shock from her eyes, carefully examining every inch (or rather, whatever was left) that she was starting to realise was left on her head. Her head cocked slightly from side to side, trying to get a better look at that nape of hers that I’d already wanted to pepper with all the kisses in the world. But seeing it was not enough— I wanted her to fully appreciate it.

“Don’t be shy, darling. Take your hand out and feel it,” I ordered sweetly. “It’ll help you start getting used to it, I’m sure.”

Again, Lisa spared me only a momentary glance, then got her other hand out from under the cape to obey my command. She started warily at the back of her neck, sliding her hand up that sumptuous neck of hers into that fuzzy terrain. Her lips pressed slightly, stifling what I’d imagine was a gasp that wanted to be released so badly as she felt the shortest fuzz she’d ever had on her cute little head. Her hand slowly shifted around the sides and back, turning with her head so she could see the novelty she was feeling.

Once she’d seem to have acquainted herself well with the tapered sides, her hand eventually crept up towards the top, where the main delight was. Her eyes widened so spectacularly when she felt it— the soft pelt of hair she was left with on top. Her hand was ruffling through it over and over, letting that realisation sink in that she wasn’t going to have it messed up at all for a good few weeks, at the very least.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it? Won’t have to comb it or clip it up or anything. Simple and easy, like I said,” I added on while she was still transfixed with that image of her in the hand mirror.

“Mm,” Lisa eventually affirmed, forcing out the tiniest smile before timidly offering the handmirror back to the barber.

“All good then, ma’am?” the barber asked me as she put the mirror back on the counter.

“It’s perfect, that’ll be all for today,” I concluded, stirring with excitement to just pounce on Lisa already.

“Very well,” the barber said, taking it as her cue to begin wrapping up as she got out the neck brush. She was quite liberal with it— starting from Lisa’s crown as she dusted off any stray hairs that may have been left behind. She lingered around the forehead, making sure none of the loose locks were stuck to her skin as Lisa shut her eyes. The barber then folded down the ears so she could dust around them, surely giving Lisa a bit of a tickle although she showed no sign of it.

Once the breadth of her head was dusted, the barber undid the cape and neck tissue, letting it spread out across her shoulders as she swept up the back of Lisa’s neck. The barber then opened up a little tub on the counter, dipping a few fingers in gently before clapping the powder between her hands. She rubbed her fingers across Lisa’s neckline and sideburns where the razor had done their job. The cape was whisked off with a flash and then dusted off, where the tiny bits of hairs that were still left on it rained to the ground to join the large clumps that formed in a circle around the chair. “That’s you done— one nice summer cut,” the barber concluded with a casual rub on Lisa’s head. “Won’t need to brush it for a few weeks, at least.”

Lisa stayed in the chair for a moment, appearing a little fazed once she was released from the trappings of the cape. Before she could muster the will to stand, I immediately stepped up towards her to offer her a hand. She accepted it delicately, and I guided her off the chair with grace as she stepped over the locks she’d lost. With her hand still in mine, I carefully raised the back of her hand to my lips, planting a kiss suavely. “You’re looking radiant as ever, darling.”

For the first since she sat in the chair, Lisa seemed to have blushed, although she was quick to shield the small smile that was forming. She’d been playing the coy sub so well, and I’m sure she didn’t want to break character so soon. With her hand still in mine, I twirled her around and wrapped my arm around her, letting her face the mirror where she could admire her new self that paired splendidly with her outfit. Such a fancy woman showing off so much skin— and not just from the neck-down. “Ready to go?” I whispered in her ear.

“Mm,” she gave her reply softly, with her fingers tightening on mine as her vigour for the night was starting to fuel.

“Thank you so much for the gorgeous cut,” I stepped forward to pay the barber— sliding more than enough cash than was agreed upon into her hand. A more than handsome job required a more than handsome fee.

“Thank you— it’s a pleasure to serve,” she accepted it gracefully, sliding it into her pocket.

“Darling, say ‘thank you’ to the barber— she gave you such a nice cut,” I nudged Lisa softly.

“Thank you,” Lisa coolly said, still gripping onto me tightly.

“You’re very welcome. Hope to see you again,” the barber replied as she started sweeping up Lisa’s lost locks.

“The feeling’s mutual,” I bade farewell as I guided Lisa to the threshold of the shop, opening the door to a blessed night ahead.

I could feel Lisa tensing up a bit as we stepped out— perhaps a little gust of wind finally catching up to her neatly shorn head. But even the most blistering wind wasn’t going to stop her now. Once we were out of that shop, the show was over, and she was free to let her desire take over. We began marching briskly back to the car, her hand practically tugging me along. Just as I pressed the button to unlock, she’d made a huge stride to open the door, and then almost tossed me inside the back seat.

I barely had a moment to sit up when she’d immediately pounced on me, shutting the door beside her before diving down onto me. “Oh, Bridget,” she started sternly in a low whisper between kisses, and the hairs on my skin were starting to stand. If she ever started with those words, I was either in deep trouble, or about to be given the time of my life. Though to be fair, sometimes those two aren’t mutually exclusive. “Did you have fun, my little voyeur?”

“So much,” I whispered breathily. “D-do you…” I stammered, half-afraid to ask. “Do you like it?”

She smirked— forever amused at my recurring worry. “I don’t know,” she playfully replied before grabbing onto my wrist, then sliding it under the bottom of her dress for me to feel. “You tell me.”

I stifled a gasp when I felt that soaked fabric underneath between my fingers. I still couldn’t quite believe it. “You really like it?”

Lisa chuckled sinisterly. “I don’t know what I like more: the hair, or being able to see you so,” she lifted my chin to stare deeply into my eyes, “authoritative.” There was an immense wonder in that face of hers, one I hadn’t seen in a while. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be so stern with me, and now look at you.”

I was probably smiling like an idiot at that point. All my worries were thrown out the window when she spoke those words filled with pride. I’d been a walking wreck of nerves just thinking about everything this day was going to be: having to perform the boldest role yet for Lisa’s pleasure, and in a setting we’d never done before. Not to mention the unexpected twist that the barber had introduced. And I couldn’t have asked for a better ending.

“Go on, touch it all you want,” Lisa whispered as she dove back in for a kiss. “You’ve been on edge since I got in that barber chair, and I know you just wanna go to fucking town on me. You deserve all of it.”

And I obeyed. As our lips fell into a rage of passion, my hands found their way up her neck and into that fuzziness that was all over her head. I moaned as I felt every inch of it across the skin of my palm and fingers, finally able to truly show it the admiration it deserved. It was one thing to just ruffle it briefly while she was still in the chair, and a completely different and surreal feeling to have it in full reach while she was all over me.

“Do you love it?” Lisa slipped the question, even though the answer was clear as day.

“Fuck yes”

“Better than my usual cut?” she continued her inquiry.

“Better than any cut you’ve ever had,” I poured out.

She giggled before pulling away from me briefly, studying my face. “Do you want me to keep it like this?” she dropped the bomb.

“Y-“ I was about to leap at the answer, then grounded myself. So drunk on pleasure, I almost lost sight of what was most important to me. “Only if you want to.”

“Mmm.” Lisa’s tone was one of delight as she impishly traced my cheekbones with a finger. “Well, if you’re a good girl, maybe we can do this once in a while,” she started drawing up the deal. “Maybe… once a year?”

“Like a summer cut?” I suggested, realising we’d come full circle to the first time we’d partaken in these little plays.

“I like the sound of that. But,” her hand was now on my chin, tilting up firmly so all I could see was her, “you need to promise me that you’re going to be as stern as you were today, if not more.”

“You could afford to be a little brattier too,” I cheekily snuck in.

Lisa put on the most devilish look I’d ever seen—- as if I’d fallen into her waiting jaws so decisively. “Deal.”




2 responses to “Taking Charge

  1. This story is spectacularly well done! The role-play aspect added a great dimension–consensual,affectionate domination, with a reverse at the end. That made your story so much more interesting than the usual “I’m going to tie you to a chair and shave your head” genre. Bravo!

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