TheInvisibleMan
Hi! The story contains explicit scenes, so I wanted to give you a heads-up. If the moderators are okay with it, I’ll gradually post the entire story in installments, accompanied by illustrations. The full story has already been published on my Patreon.
So far, the story only features men’s haircuts, but of course, that’s not where things will end 🙂
Chapter 1
Camilla usually prepared meticulously.
A man from a dating site. Mark, an architect, thirty years old. Handsome. Thick, longish, slightly wavy chestnut hair. A light beard.
She didn’t need to spend ages exchanging messages and digging into his background. One look at his photo, a glance at his interests, a couple of sentences… and she knew whether he was right for her.
At half past seven, she stood before the mirror, lining her eyes and applying lipstick. Her dark hair fell to her shoulder blades, her eyes looked almost black in the evening light, and the smile she had practiced in the mirror was a perfect weapon in the hands of an experienced huntress. Tonight, she was going hunting again.
A black dress lay on the bed. Beside it was a handbag that, tonight, held more than just her phone and makeup bag: a pair of handcuffs, a fully charged hair clipper, a razor, and a small can of shaving gel. Camilla ran her fingers over the cold steel of the handcuffs, feeling a familiar warmth slowly kindle inside her.
By eight, she was stepping through the door of the bar where they had arranged to meet. The dress accentuated every curve of her body and revealed a spectacular neckline. Men turned to watch her as she passed. At thirty-two, she felt she was in her absolute prime.
Mark was waiting at a table. He kissed her hand, but he seemed shy. Her beauty had left him tongue-tied. Camilla let him order the wine, asked about his work, and told him about a recent trip to Milan. She knew how to listen, when to laugh, when to touch the other person’s hand, and when to hold a gaze a second longer than usual.
An hour later, Mark was already telling her about his last breakup.
Two hours later, he was kissing her in a taxi.
Their next stop was a hotel room, with champagne chilling in an ice bucket, passionate embraces, an enormous bed—and her game.
He was sitting naked on the bed when the first cuff snapped shut around his wrist, securing him to the bedpost. The cold metal sounded especially loud in the silence of the room. Camilla slowly traced her nails down his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingertips.
With one hand, she stroked his cock. With the other, she toyed with his hair and whispered in his ear:
“Your safeword is red. You can stop everything at any time, but if you do, I’ll leave.”
The last thing Mark wanted was to stop. He merely swallowed in anticipation. The second cuff clicked shut around his other wrist. He was now fastened to the bed with his arms spread wide, unable to move. She lowered herself and slowly, firmly licked the tip of his cock, feeling him jerk at her touch. But instead of continuing as he expected, she pulled a hair clipper from her handbag. Mark’s eyes widened.
“Are you going to cut my hair?”
“Not just cut it. I’m going to remove every last hair from your head. I want to lick your completely smooth scalp while you’re inside me. Tonight, you’ll be my slave. But I’ll be merciful. A slave deserves a reward. Perhaps I’ll even let you keep your eyebrows.”
She took his cock again and began stroking it, gently but firmly.
“Or is there something you want to tell me?”
Mark swallowed again.
“No, my Mistress.”
The clipper’s hum shattered the silence of the room. Its sharp teeth dug into his thick hair without a guard and moved upward, leaving behind a pale strip of barely visible stubble. Camilla watched the dark strands fall onto the white bedsheet, a sweet tension tightening inside her. Each pass of the clipper sent a hot wave through her body.
“That’s it…”
A second strip followed the first, and the hair began falling more thickly. Her hand moved the clipper with confidence, almost tenderness. Camilla pressed her thigh against his, letting him feel how wet she already was. In less than a minute, Mark’s head was completely bare of hair. She ran her palm over the rough stubble in slow, circular motions, savoring the new sensation.
“You look so much better like this, slave. Look how wet you’ve made me.”
She touched her own pussy, parted her lips, gathered the glistening moisture on her fingers, and held them to his mouth. Mark obediently licked her fingers clean.
She took the can of gel, the razor, and an elastic ring from her handbag. She slipped the ring around Mark’s balls, securing his erection. Tightly. She wanted him to feel every moment of it.
“You should be just as aroused as I am.”
She spread the gel over his head. Thick, cold, slippery. Then she began shaving methodically. The blade glided over his skin with a soft, wet whisper. One patch at a time. Occasionally, she leaned down and brushed her bare breasts against his face—soft and warm, with hard nipples. He gasped for air whenever her skin touched his lips. Camilla repeatedly ran her palm over the already smooth areas, checking that not a single hair remained. Each time her fingers slid across the perfectly smooth skin, the heat between her thighs intensified.
At last, she wiped away the remaining gel with a damp cloth. His head gleamed beneath the lamp: perfectly bald, smooth, vulnerable.
“My slave is ready now. I’ll release you, and I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
As soon as the second cuff came off, Mark lunged at Camilla like a bull charging into a bullring. He grabbed her, covered her in kisses, explored her mouth with his tongue, and fucked her furiously. His pace grew faster and more relentless, each thrust deep and forceful. Camilla alternately stroked and licked his bald head—warm and smooth, smelling of gel and male sweat. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, pressing her lips to that new, perfect surface, feeling every movement of his body more deeply because now he was entirely hers: bald, submissive, belonging to this night alone.
“Yes…”
Several hours later, he was spent and had fallen asleep. Camilla showered, dressed, and took one last look at the result of her work. Mark was sleeping, his unfamiliar bare head standing out sharply against the white pillow. She smiled and left the room, never to see him again.
The hunt had been a success.
