The producers brought me to a small barbershop in a small town. It was a few hours outside the city. Distracted by doubt over what I agreed to do, for a very large sum of money and a twisted desire to punish myself, I didn’t really plan attention during the drive. The barber was an older man, barely 5ft tall and with oversized glasses, who greeted me with a respectful kiss of my hand. It may just have been a show for the cameras though.
“My dear,” he said, in a thick Brooklyn accent, “let’s create some art.”
Then he clapped his hands. With that, I stripped. He took a sniff of my red lace panties when I removed them. Feeling his eyes on me, I sat in his chair. My bare ass rubbed painfully against the leather of the chair. He never broke eye contact as he bound my hands and feet to the chair with duct tape. Then he caped me.
“Gotta give you the full experience,” he said, chuckling.
The barber started brushing my shiny black hair and sectioning it off in ponytails. At that point, it reached my waist. I was very proud of my hair. Again, it wasn’t just the money. I was there to punish myself. I wanted to sacrifice something meaningful to me. The cameras were just there to record the experience. When the barber finished brushing my hair, he selected a large pair of clippers. He turned them on and let them hum by my ear before he plunged them in. I didn’t breath until he finished his harvest with them. A woman bought my hair. She would be receiving it as a finished wig. And, by one by one, he collected the ponytails that would make that wig. I exhaled as he took the last one. I looked so small without all my hair.
He rubbed my buzzed head. “Look at you. A fallen woman. But, my dear, you can fall further.”
The barber wrapped a hot towel around my head. As I sat there, it burning my scalp, he sharpened his straight razor. After about ten minutes, he removed the towel and spread hot lather in its place. He shaved my head smooth with his wickedly sharp razor. He wiped off the excess lather and slapped some aftershave balm on it. It gleamed under the harsh lights of the shop.
He pulled off the cape. Dazed by the sight of myself, bald and still a prisoner to his chair, I didn’t even react when he knelt down to shave my pussy clean. Once it was clean, he started licking it. Still trapped in the chair, I let him bring me to the edge of climax.
Suddenly standing up, he said, “You don’t deserve that final pleasure, baldie.”
Then he freed me from the chair. My legs were shaking from my ruined orgasm. He didn’t care. He just bent me over his counter, and he started paddling my ass until it glowed bright red and tears stream down my face. As a final humiliation, dealt by him, because I still had one final task from the producers, he wrote “I SHAVED THIS BITCH” on the back of my head and then signed it.
The final shot of the video is me walking through the town, naked and bald, with an ass still very, very red, as the people shouted insults at me. The camera zooms in on my pussy, dripping wet at my true climax, the climax of finally getting punished properly and reveling in my humiliation.
We shot the video five months ago. I am still bald. That’s part of my deal. I need to keep my head shaved for a year. Each month, I send the woman who bought my hair a photo of myself bald, and she sends me one of herself wearing my beautiful hair. It makes me cum each time.