The Price of Submission

Layla stepped into the small but elegant home salon her mother had set up in their house. The familiar scent of hair products and the distant hum of clippers resting on the counter made her smile. She ran a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the slight roughness of the hair that had grown in since her last shave.

Her mother, Mariam, stood by the styling chair, already preparing for their morning ritual. She was a skilled hairdresser, and Layla had been getting her nape shaved for years now. It was a look she loved—sharp, clean, and undeniably bold.

“Right on time,” Mariam said with a warm smile, tapping the chair. “Come on, let’s make that nape smooth again before you head to school.”

Layla grinned and hopped onto the chair, tying her thick, dark hair into a high ponytail. She secured it with a flick of her wrist, making sure to expose the overgrown nape. “It’s getting too long again. I hate the feeling when it’s not freshly shaved.”

Mariam chuckled as she fastened the white cape around her daughter’s neck, smoothing it down over Layla’s uniform. “You’re getting spoiled. Most girls would be terrified of a nape shave, but you can’t seem to go more than a couple of weeks without it.”

Layla smirked. “It’s addicting. Besides, it makes me stand out. You always say confidence is key, right?”

“That’s my girl.” Mariam reached for her clippers, flicking them on with a sharp pop. The deep hum filled the small salon, and Layla instinctively tilted her head forward, her chin resting against the cape.

The first pass of the clippers sent a shiver down her spine. Mariam guided them smoothly up Layla’s nape, the warm blades effortlessly shearing away the dark stubble. Tiny hairs dusted the cape, falling in soft waves onto her lap.

Layla sighed in satisfaction. “That feels so good. I swear, nothing beats the first pass of the clippers in the morning.”

Mariam laughed. “You and your obsession with a clean nape.” She continued to work methodically, running the clippers over every inch of Layla’s undercut, making sure no spot was left untouched. With each upward stroke, the skin underneath was exposed, smooth and slightly pink from the blades.

Once the buzzing stopped, Mariam dusted off the last stray hairs with a soft brush. “Alright, the undercut is done. Looks sharp.”

Layla reached back, running her fingertips over the newly shaved area. “Mmm, nope. Not smooth enough. You know what to do.”

Mariam gave her daughter a knowing look. “You want it completely clean again, don’t you?”

Layla grinned. “Of course. If I’m getting it done, I want it perfect.”

Shaking her head playfully, Mariam reached for her straight razor. She lathered a bit of warm shaving cream onto Layla’s nape, the cool foam contrasting against her warm skin. The razor glided smoothly over the exposed skin, wiping away any remaining roughness. Mariam took her time, making sure every inch of Layla’s nape was flawlessly smooth.

When she was finished, she wiped away the excess cream with a warm towel and applied a bit of cooling aftershave. “There. Now it’s perfect.”

Layla sighed happily and ran her fingers over her silky-smooth nape. “Now that’s what I call satisfaction. You’re the best, Mom.”

Mariam smirked as she unclipped the cape. “I know. Now go, before you’re late for school.”

Layla hopped off the chair, flicking her ponytail dramatically as she admired herself in the mirror. The fresh contrast between her long hair and the clean-shaven nape made her smile. She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later!”

At the School Gate

Sana adjusted her hijab as she approached the school entrance, her steps quiet and measured. She always liked to arrive early, enjoying the peaceful moments before the schoolyard filled with students.

A familiar, confident voice called out to her. “Sana!”

She turned to see Layla striding toward her, her high ponytail bouncing with each step. Sana’s eyes immediately fell to the back of Layla’s head—the sharp, clean contrast of her freshly shaved nape standing out. She swallowed, feeling an odd mix of curiosity and nervousness.

“Good morning,” Sana greeted with a small smile.

Layla smirked, turning slightly so Sana could get a full view of her undercut. “Notice anything different?”

Sana hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “You… got your nape shaved again?”

Layla grinned proudly. “Of course! Smooth as ever. My mom gave me the full treatment this morning.” She ran her fingers over the back of her neck, showing off the smoothness. “You should feel it—it’s insanely soft.”

Sana’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said softly, looking away.

Layla chuckled, loving Sana’s shyness. “You always act so innocent, but I know you’re curious. One day, I’m going to get you in my mom’s chair, and you won’t be able to resist.”

Sana swallowed, unsure how to respond. Layla always teased her, but somehow, today, it felt different. It was as if Layla was planting a seed, one that Sana wasn’t sure she wanted to grow.

“Let’s get to class,” Sana muttered, trying to change the subject.

Layla smirked. “For now,” she whispered under her breath as they walked into school together.

Little did Sana know, today was just the beginning.

As they walked through the school corridors, Layla was full of energy, darting ahead to greet different groups of friends before running back to Sana. Unlike her bold and lively friend, Sana walked quietly, her steps steady, her gaze lowered. But her thoughts weren’t as composed.

Her eyes kept drifting to Layla’s freshly shaved nape—the way the smooth skin contrasted against her thick, dark ponytail. It looked so clean, so precise, and Layla carried it with such confidence.

Sana sighed softly, adjusting her hijab as she walked. It must feel so good to have the freedom to choose your hairstyle, to decide what you want without worrying about what others would think.

Layla always spoke so highly of her mother, Mariam, and from what Sana had heard, she seemed incredibly cool—nothing like the strict, traditional mothers she was used to. A mother who was also a hairdresser, who encouraged you to experiment with styles, who gave you the perfect cut whenever you wanted…

Sana couldn’t help but think about the perks. No awkward explanations at a salon. No worrying about a stylist messing up. No guilt about asking for something different. Just the comfort of knowing you’re in safe hands.

She shook her head slightly. Why am I even thinking about this?

Before she could dwell on the thought, the bell rang, signaling the start of the first class.

The girls settled into their seats, Sana sitting beside Layla as usual. As they pulled out their notebooks, one of the girls next to Layla—Aisha, a classmate who always had a sharp eye for details—leaned closer, her eyes catching the fresh shave on Layla’s nape.

“Wow, Layla!” Aisha grinned, reaching out as if to touch the smooth skin but stopping at the last second. “That’s a fresh one, isn’t it? You just got it done today?”

Layla smirked. “This morning. My mom made sure it’s smooth as glass.” She tilted her head slightly to give a better view.

Aisha whistled in admiration. “It looks so good! You’re so lucky to have a mom who’s a hairdresser. If I had one, I’d probably be changing my hairstyle every other week.”

Layla laughed. “I do change mine pretty often. Mom’s always up for trying something new, but I’m obsessed with keeping my nape shaved. I can’t stand it when it starts growing back.”

Aisha grinned mischievously and turned to Sana. “Hey, what about you, Sana? You must get super hot under that hijab all day. Maybe you should get a nape shave too—it would definitely help with the heat!”

Sana’s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion. “M-me?” she stammered, instinctively adjusting her hijab as if it could protect her from the conversation.

Layla leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Now that’s an idea. A shaved nape would be perfect for you, Sana. It’s cool, clean, and trust me, it feels amazing.”

Sana hesitated, unsure of what to say. The thought of shaving any part of her head had never even crossed her mind before. It was such a bold thing, and she had always played it safe. But at the same time…

She glanced at Layla’s nape again, at how smooth and effortless it looked. Wouldn’t it feel good? Wouldn’t it be comfortable?

Sana swallowed, feeling an odd mix of nervousness and curiosity. Maybe… maybe I should try it.

Sana was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice the teacher entering the classroom. Her mind kept playing the idea over and over again.

Would it really be that bad?
Wouldn’t it feel good?
Wouldn’t it be… freeing?

And then, without realizing it, she whispered her decision out loud.

“I’ll do it.”

The room fell silent for a second before bursting into laughter.

Sana snapped out of her daze, her eyes widening in horror. She hadn’t even realized she had spoken.

The teacher, now standing in front of the class, raised an eyebrow and gestured at her. “What will you do, Sana?”

Sana opened her mouth, but no words came out. She could feel the heat rising to her face, turning her cheeks a deep shade of red. Embarrassed, she quickly shook her head. “N-nothing, Miss,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze.

The teacher gave her a curious look before moving on with the lesson, but the damage was done. The giggles and murmurs around her made her want to shrink into her seat. Layla, sitting beside her, had a smirk on her lips, but she didn’t say anything—yet.

For the rest of the day, Sana avoided eye contact, keeping her head down as the school day dragged on. Teachers came and went, students moved through their usual routines, but Sana’s mind stayed stuck on what had just happened.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, students rushed to gather their things and head home. Layla, as usual, was about to leave when Sana hesitated, watching her friend walk toward the exit.

Something inside her told her that if she didn’t ask now, she never would.

“Layla, wait!”

Layla turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Sana hesitated, clutching the strap of her school bag. “C-can I ask you something?” she asked softly.

Layla tilted her head. “Of course.”

Sana took a deep breath and glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

Layla’s smirk grew. “Ooooh, now I’m curious. Alright, I promise.”

Sana swallowed hard before finally speaking. “Can you ask your mom to… to give me a nape shave?”

Layla’s eyes widened for a moment before a huge grin spread across her face. “Wait—are you serious?”

Sana quickly nodded, still feeling embarrassed.

“Oh my God, Sana! Yes! Of course, I’ll ask her!” Layla said excitedly. Then, before Sana could say anything else, she grabbed her wrist. “Actually, why ask later? Let’s just do it now! Come home with me, and my mom will shave your nape today!”

Sana’s heart skipped a beat. She had thought maybe Layla would arrange it for another day, giving her more time to mentally prepare. But now… now it was happening today?

She bit her lip, nerves creeping in. But Layla’s enthusiasm was infectious, and deep down, a part of her wanted this.

“…Okay,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Layla beamed. “Trust me, Sana, you’re going to love it.”

And with that, they left the school together, heading straight toward the first big change in Sana’s life.

As Sana stood up from the salon chair, she turned toward Mariam with gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you so much, Aunty Mariam,” she said sincerely. “How much do I owe you?”

Mariam, who had been tidying up her station, glanced at Sana with a straight face. “Oh, sweetheart, this will cost more than you can afford,” she said, her voice serious and firm.

Sana’s eyes widened in alarm. “W-What?!”

Before panic could settle in, Mariam cracked a warm chuckle, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just teasing, dear,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re Layla’s best friend, and that makes you like a daughter to me.”

Sana let out a relieved sigh, a small, grateful smile forming on her lips. “Still, thank you so much,” she said sincerely, placing her hand over her heart.

Layla grinned mischievously and reached out, rubbing her hand over Sana’s freshly shaved nape. “Ooooh, smooth! You’re going to love this, Sana,” she teased, pointing to her own nape. “Trust me, you won’t be able to stop touching it.”

Sana’s cheeks flushed as she instinctively pulled her hijab back over her head, making sure it was secure. Layla giggled at her reaction.

“See you tomorrow,” Layla chirped, giving her a playful nudge. “And don’t forget to tell me how it feels after a whole day!”

Sana nodded, thanking Mariam one last time before heading toward the door. As she stepped outside and made her way home, her fingers twitched by her side. It took less than five minutes before her curiosity got the better of her, and she reached up, brushing her fingertips over her nape.

A shiver ran down her spine. It was so smooth, so different from anything she had felt before. A small, secret smile formed on her lips as she walked.

Throughout the rest of the day, she simply couldn’t leave her nape alone. While reading, while scrolling through her phone, even while watching TV with her family, she kept sneaking little touches whenever she could. The sensation was addicting—soft yet bristly, cool against her fingers.

At dinner, she almost got caught when her mother suddenly spoke up. “Sana, why do you keep touching your neck like that?”

Sana’s hand froze mid-air, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest. “Oh! Uh… it’s just itchy,” she lied quickly, forcing a casual laugh.

Her mother gave her a slightly suspicious look before going back to her meal, and Sana let out a quiet breath of relief.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, she ran her fingers over her nape again, this time with no fear of being caught. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she whispered to herself, “It does feel nice…”

She had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she sat in Mariam’s salon chair.

As the morning sun peeked through her curtains, Sana woke up with a soft, contented smile on her lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had slept without covering her head. The cool morning breeze slipped through the open window, tickling the freshly buzzed skin of her nape, sending gentle shivers down her spine. It felt different—strange, yet oddly liberating.

Rubbing her eyes groggily, Sana sat up and stretched, only to realize that her fingers were unconsciously grazing the back of her neck again. A warm blush crept onto her cheeks as she caught herself in the act. She had been doing it non-stop since last evening, and yet, she still couldn’t get over the new sensation.

Shaking her head, she got up and made her way to the bathroom. Even as she turned the faucet on and splashed cold water on her face, she couldn’t resist one last touch. The dampness made her nape feel even smoother, and she let out a small, satisfied sigh.

“Get a hold of yourself, Sana,” she muttered under her breath, amused by her own obsession.

After freshening up, she quickly slipped into her school uniform, adjusting her hijab in the mirror. Though it covered her hair completely, she could still feel the bare skin underneath, the cool fabric brushing against it. As she walked out of the house, heading toward school, her fingers once again drifted to her nape, tracing over the freshly buzzed area beneath the cloth.

It was official—she was addicted.

By the time she reached the school gate, Layla was already there, leaning casually against the wall, her high ponytail swaying slightly as she turned toward Sana. A knowing grin stretched across her lips as soon as she saw her.

“Good morning,” Layla greeted cheerfully.

“Morning,” Sana responded, her smile softer, but just as warm.

Layla wasted no time. “So? How does it feel?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Sana hesitated for just a second before she let her heart pour out. “It’s… honestly amazing,” she admitted, her excitement bubbling over. “I can’t stop touching it. It’s so soft, and every time the air hits it, I get these tiny shivers! It’s such a strange feeling but in the best way possible. I never thought I’d enjoy it this much.”

Layla listened calmly, her grin growing wider as Sana spoke. When Sana finally finished gushing, Layla chuckled knowingly. “I knew you’d love it,” she said confidently. Then, tilting her head slightly, she added, “If you think it’s fun now, you should try getting it cleaned with a razor, like me.”

Sana’s eyes widened slightly. “A razor?”

Layla nodded, turning her head slightly to expose her smooth, freshly shaved nape. “Yeah. The clippers are great, but when you shave it completely smooth, it feels a hundred times better. No stubble, just silky, soft skin.” She smirked. “I bet you’d love it even more.”

Sana swallowed, her fingers instinctively brushing over her own nape again. The thought sent a tiny thrill through her, but at the same time, it felt like a huge step.

Days passed, and the once-intense sensation on Sana’s nape gradually faded as her hair started to grow back. At first, she still found herself reaching up absentmindedly, trying to recapture that tingling feeling, but soon, it became just another memory. The thrill of the fresh shave had come and gone, and with it, the topic between her and Layla had drifted into the background.

Sana would still notice Layla’s nape from time to time—always clean, always perfectly smooth. It was hard to miss, especially when Layla would tie her hair up into her signature high ponytail. But as Sana’s own nape returned to normal, her focus shifted back to everyday life.

Then, one morning, as Sana arrived at school, she noticed something different. A small group of girls had gathered near the gate, whispering and sneaking glances at someone in the center. Curious, she stepped closer—only to freeze in shock.

Layla stood there, grinning ear to ear, her usual high ponytail intact, but something was unmistakably different. The shaved area of her nape had extended much higher than before. A significant portion of the back of her head was now clipped short, revealing a bold undercut. The contrast between the long hair tied up above and the freshly shaved portion below was striking. It was daring. It was impossible to ignore.

Sana’s eyes widened. “Layla… what did you do!?” she gasped, stepping closer in disbelief.

Layla’s grin widened even further. “You like it?” she asked, turning her head slightly so Sana could get a better view.

Sana swallowed. “I-I mean… it’s just… different! Why did you go this short?”

Layla laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, you have no idea what happened last night.” She took a dramatic pause before leaning in, lowering her voice as if sharing a juicy secret. “It wasn’t exactly planned, but it turned out to be the best mistake ever.”

Sana blinked. “Mistake?”

Layla nodded, excitement twinkling in her eyes. “So, you know how my mom keeps my nape clean, right? Well, last night, she was giving me my usual shave, and everything was going fine. I was sitting in the chair, my head tilted forward, feeling the clippers buzzing against my skin—it was just like always.”

Sana nodded, listening intently as Layla continued.

“But then,” Layla grinned, “I moved. Not on purpose! I was just talking and laughing, and I must’ve shifted at the wrong moment because my mom’s hand slipped.” She made a little slicing motion with her fingers. “The clippers went way higher than they were supposed to.”

Sana’s eyes widened. “Oh no…”

“Oh yes,” Layla chuckled. “I felt it immediately—the bare spot that wasn’t supposed to be there. My mom froze, and I just sat there, staring at her in the mirror like, ‘Uh… what now?’”

Sana covered her mouth, intrigued yet nervous for her friend. “What did she do?”

Layla smirked. “She gave me two choices. Either she could try to blend it in and make it look less noticeable, or—I could go all in and try something completely different.”

Sana exhaled. “And you… chose this?” She gestured to Layla’s undercut.

Layla beamed. “Yup! My mom suggested an undercut, and honestly? I was kind of scared at first, but she reminded me that hair always grows back. So, I said, ‘Why not?’”

Sana shook her head in disbelief. “You’re way too fearless.”

Layla laughed. “Maybe! But listen, the best part was when she started actually doing it. She didn’t even hesitate. She just tilted my head forward again, picked up the clippers, and went straight up the back of my head. I could feel the difference immediately—more hair coming off, the vibrations stronger against my scalp. It was so much more intense than just a nape shave. And the sound?” She shivered slightly. “It was amazing.”

Sana’s heart pounded just listening. “You actually enjoyed it?”

Layla nodded. “Way more than I expected. When she was done, she ran her hand over it, and I swear, I’ve never felt something so smooth in my life. It’s like… a whole new level of fresh.” She turned around, pulling her ponytail up to let Sana see the clean-shaven portion. “Go ahead. Feel it.”

Sana hesitated, but Layla grabbed her wrist and guided her fingers to the freshly shaved skin. The moment Sana’s fingertips brushed over it, a soft gasp escaped her lips. It was so smooth. Even smoother than when she had first gotten her own nape shave. The skin was warm from the morning sun, completely bare, free of any roughness.

“It’s like silk,” Sana whispered.

Layla grinned. “Right? Now imagine how amazing it felt when she put shaving cream on it and used a razor.”

Sana jerked her hand away, eyes wide. “You mean…?”

Layla smirked. “Yep. Full razor shave. No stubble, nothing.” She sighed dramatically. “I don’t think I can ever go back now.”

Sana stared at her friend, her mind racing. Just last week, she had been unsure about getting even a simple nape shave, and now Layla was standing in front of her with an undercut, completely fearless.

And worst of all?

A tiny part of Sana was starting to wonder what it would feel like for herself.

As the group of girls surrounded Layla, eagerly asking to touch her freshly shaved undercut, she grinned, tilting her head forward to give them a better view. “Alright, alright, one at a time,” she said playfully, enjoying the attention. The girls giggled as they ran their fingers over the velvety-soft section of her nape, murmuring about how smooth it felt.

Sana stood a little to the side, watching the scene unfold. A part of her was mesmerized by how effortlessly confident Layla was. The way she commanded attention, the way people listened when she spoke—it was something Sana could never imagine for herself.

“Hey, Sana, you wanna feel it too?” Layla turned to her, smirking.

Sana hesitated, glancing around as if worried someone might judge her. “I—uh, no, it’s okay,” she muttered, pulling at the hem of her sleeve.

Layla raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. “Oh, come on, don’t be so shy. You literally couldn’t stop touching your own nape when you got yours done.”

Sana’s cheeks burned. “That’s different,” she mumbled.

Layla gave her a knowing look before suddenly reaching for Sana’s wrist and pulling her hand forward. “Here,” she said, placing Sana’s fingertips against the shaved section at the back of her head.

Sana gasped softly as she felt the smoothness beneath her fingers. It was an odd yet fascinating sensation—like a soft peach fuzz but even finer. She swallowed, glancing up at Layla, who was watching her with an amused smirk.

“Told you,” Layla whispered, winking before pulling away.

Sana quickly withdrew her hand, heart pounding, as the other girls continued their chatter. Layla was so bold—so sure of herself. It wasn’t just about the haircut. There was something about her presence, her confidence, that made Sana feel small in comparison.

As the school day went on, Sana found herself stuck with Layla during their lunch break. They sat together in the courtyard, their usual spot under the large oak tree. Layla was scrolling through her phone, occasionally showing Sana funny videos, while Sana quietly picked at her food.

Suddenly, Layla nudged her. “Hey, go get me a juice.”

Sana blinked, looking up. “What?”

Layla stretched her arms lazily. “Juice. From the canteen. I don’t feel like getting up.”

Sana frowned. “Why don’t you go get it yourself?”

Layla gave her a sly smile. “Because I asked you to.”

Sana hesitated. She wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the way Layla said it—so casually, so assured—that made it difficult to refuse.

Sana sighed, getting up. “Fine, but you’re paying me back.”

Layla grinned. “Sure, sure. Now go, my little servant.”

Sana shot her a glare but walked toward the canteen anyway, feeling both annoyed and…something else. Layla had always been like this—bossy, teasing, but never in a mean way. It was just the way their friendship worked. And deep down, Sana knew she didn’t actually mind.

Throughout the day, Layla was unusually bossy, and Sana knew exactly what that meant—it was one of those days.

There were always a few days every month when Layla seemed to step into a different role, becoming more demanding, more controlling. And somehow, Sana always found herself giving in, whether it was by carrying Layla’s books, letting her copy her notes, or running errands for her.

It started small that morning.

“Sana, carry my bag to class, my shoulders hurt,” Layla had said casually, tossing her backpack onto Sana’s desk without waiting for an answer.

Sana sighed but didn’t argue. It wasn’t heavy, anyway.

Later, during break, Layla stretched out on the bench under the shade of a tree, while Sana sat next to her, unwrapping her lunch.

“Feed me,” Layla suddenly said, eyes still closed.

Sana looked at her in disbelief. “What?”

Layla cracked one eye open and smirked. “You heard me. My hands are tired.”

Sana rolled her eyes but, again, gave in, holding a bite of her sandwich near Layla’s lips. Layla took a slow bite, grinning. “See? You’re such a good friend.”

By the time the last period ended, Sana was exhausted—not from school, but from Layla.

And yet, the day wasn’t over.

As they packed their bags, Sana expected Layla to say their usual parting words—something like ‘Meet me outside’ or ‘See you tomorrow’. But today was different.

Instead, Layla’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

“You’re coming to my house.”

Sana blinked. “Huh?”

Layla swung her bag over her shoulder and glanced at Sana with a smirk. “I have homework, and I need you to do it. Plus, there are a few other things I need your help with.”

Sana frowned. “But I have homework too.”

Layla turned to face her fully, stepping in close—too close. Her voice dropped into a low whisper, but her words carried weight.

“Will you listen to my words, or do I need to use other methods?”

Sana stiffened. She didn’t need Layla to explain what other methods meant. She still remembered the time Layla had twisted her ear and pulled her along like a scolding elder when she refused to do something. It had been humiliating—not painful, but enough to make her comply.

Sana swallowed. Layla wasn’t joking today.

“…Fine,” she mumbled.

Layla smirked in victory. “Good girl. Let’s go.”

As they stepped out of the classroom together, Sana let out a soft sigh.

Sana let out a quiet sigh as she adjusted Layla’s bag on her shoulder. There was no point in arguing—she had learned that much from past experiences. Once Layla was in one of her bossy moods, resistance was useless.

On their way to Layla’s house, Layla kept finding small tasks for Sana to do.

“Get me that flower from the bush,” she said, pointing lazily at a patch of greenery.

Sana frowned but obeyed, stepping off the sidewalk to pluck the small flower and handing it to Layla.

Layla twirled it between her fingers. “Hmm… not bad. I should make you my personal flower picker.”

Sana rolled her eyes but stayed silent.

A few steps later, Layla sighed dramatically. “My hair’s a mess—fix it for me.”

Sana hesitated but reached out to smooth Layla’s ponytail, carefully tucking in a stray strand.

Layla hummed in approval. “Much better.”

Finally, they reached Layla’s house. Layla unlocked the door and turned to Sana with a grin. “Mom’s not home, so we have plenty of time.”

Sana gulped. That meant Layla would be completely in charge—no interruptions, no escape.

Layla led the way inside, and Sana followed, taking in the house’s warm atmosphere. It was cozy, neat, and welcoming, with a soft scent of flowers lingering in the air.

But what caught Sana’s attention the most was Layla’s room.

It was her first time seeing it—she had only come to Layla’s house once before, and that was for her nape shave.

The room was exactly what she expected from Layla—comfortable and stylish. A large, cozy bed with soft pink sheets sat against the wall, a big wardrobe stood nearby, and a well-stocked vanity glowed under the soft lighting. There was a study table with a comfortable-looking chair, shelves filled with books, and even a few stuffed toys resting in one corner.

Sana found herself staring, imagining how nice it must be to live in such a space, to have all these comforts at her fingertips.

Her daydream was abruptly cut short by a firm but light slap on the back of her head.

“Stop staring and get started,” Layla ordered, her voice carrying a playful yet authoritative edge. “I don’t have time to waste.”

Sana blinked, rubbing the back of her head as she was pulled back into reality.

Layla flopped onto her bed with a content sigh, stretching out lazily while Sana hesitated for a moment before moving toward the study table. She pulled out Layla’s books from the bag she had been forced to carry and sighed.

She knew it was going to be a very long afternoon.

Sana sat at the study table, flipping open Layla’s books and getting to work. The sound of pages turning and pencils scratching filled the quiet room. Meanwhile, Layla had made herself comfortable on the bed, now dressed in soft lounge clothes—a loose T-shirt and shorts—her hair let down as she lay back against a pile of pillows.

She had her laptop open, watching a movie with a relaxed expression, completely unbothered while Sana worked through the assignments.

Every now and then, Layla would casually call out, “Little servant!”

Sana clenched her jaw at the nickname but didn’t say anything.

“Get me a glass of water,” Layla ordered lazily.

Sana sighed and got up, bringing her the water before quickly returning to the desk.

Barely ten minutes passed before Layla called out again, “Little servant!”

Sana closed her eyes for a brief second, silently praying for patience. “Yes?”

“I’m hungry. Get me something from the kitchen.”

Sana bit her lip but obeyed, going downstairs to find something quick to eat. When she returned, she handed Layla a snack, hoping that would be the last of the interruptions.

But Layla wasn’t done.

Throughout the afternoon, she kept finding excuses to summon Sana—passing her the remote, adjusting the fan, even asking her to massage her shoulders at one point. Sana did everything with minimal complaint, knowing that resisting would only drag things out longer. She just wanted to finish the homework and go home.

Finally, after several breaks of serving Layla, she placed down the last pencil with relief.

“All done,” she announced, pushing back her chair.

Layla glanced up from her laptop. “Good.”

Sana expected her to finally let her go. Instead, Layla reached over to the chair beside her bed and picked up something. She tossed it toward Sana—a soft apron.

“Put it on,” Layla said, her tone almost playful but with an unmistakable authority behind it.

Sana hesitated, looking down at the apron. “Layla, I did everything you asked. This is going too far—”

Layla’s expression darkened in an instant. She sat up, her playful smirk vanishing.

“You really want me to stop using my words?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Before Sana could react, Layla’s hand shot out, grabbing the edge of Sana’s hijab-covered ear and twisting it sharply.

Sana let out a small gasp, wincing at the sudden pain.

Layla leaned in, tightening her grip just slightly. “You’re going to wear this,” she said in a slow, firm voice. “And you’re going to stay here until my mom gets back. So you better make yourself useful and stay busy.”

Sana swallowed hard.

Layla’s grip on her ear made it clear that this wasn’t just a warning—it was an order. And if she disobeyed, things would get worse.

Her heart pounded, but she knew she had no choice.

With slightly trembling hands, she picked up the apron and slowly tied it around her waist.

The afternoon dragged on as Sana remained trapped in Layla’s world of endless demands. With the apron tied around her waist, there was no question about her role—she was now Layla’s personal maid for the day.

“Little servant,” Layla called out, stretching lazily on her bed.

Sana gritted her teeth. “Yes?”

Layla barely glanced at her. “Massage my shoulders.”

Sana sighed, walking over and hesitantly placing her hands on Layla’s shoulders. She began rubbing in slow circles, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Harder,” Layla ordered, rolling her neck. “I’m not made of glass.”

Sana pressed her fingers in deeper, working out imaginary knots. Layla let out a contented sigh. “Now, that’s better.”

The massage went on longer than Sana expected, and her arms started to ache, but she knew better than to stop without permission. Finally, Layla waved her off.

“Go run the water for a facial,” she said next. “I think my skin needs a little pampering.”

Sana did as told, preparing a small basin with warm water. Layla sat comfortably in a chair as Sana cleansed her face, applied a light scrub, and massaged her cheeks in slow, circular motions.

“You know, you should be grateful,” Layla mused, eyes closed as she enjoyed the treatment.

Sana frowned slightly. “For what?”

Layla smirked, tilting her head. “For getting to serve me. You’re lucky I let you.”

Sana didn’t reply, focusing on wiping Layla’s face with a damp towel.

Once the facial was done, Layla reclined even further. “Now, paint my nails.”

Sana stared at her, exhausted. “Layla, please—”

Smack!

A light but sharp slap landed on the back of her head.

Sana inhaled sharply, her scalp tingling.

“I wasn’t asking,” Layla said, raising an eyebrow. “I was telling.”

Sana lowered her gaze and picked up the nail polish bottle. With careful strokes, she painted each of Layla’s nails in a soft pink color. Layla occasionally wiggled her fingers, making the process even slower.

“Now blow on them,” Layla instructed.

Sana obediently leaned forward, gently blowing air over Layla’s nails to help them dry.

As the day wore on, Sana’s energy drained completely. Layla, however, looked more relaxed and refreshed than ever.

Then, suddenly, she sat up, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I’m bored,” she declared.

Sana felt a sliver of hope—maybe she’d finally be allowed to go home.

But Layla had other plans.

She stood up and stretched, then turned to Sana with a smirk. “Come with me.”

Sana blinked. “Where?”

Layla grabbed her wrist. “We’re going to the salon.”

Sana’s stomach dropped. “Why?”

Layla grinned. “You’ll see.”

Sana hesitated as they entered the small home salon, the familiar scent of shampoo and styling products filling the air. Layla’s mother wasn’t home yet, which made it even more unsettling.

Layla turned to Sana, her smirk widening.

“Alright, little servant, we’re going to play a game,” she announced.

Sana narrowed her eyes. “What game?”

Layla leaned against the salon chair. “It’s called Beauty Salon.”

Sana crossed her arms. “And what exactly do we do in this game?”

Layla grinned. “Simple. You will be the customer, and I will be the stylist.” She gestured toward the chair. “And I will give you a haircut of my choice.”

Sana’s breath caught in her throat. “What? No way!”

Layla’s expression darkened slightly. “That’s not how the game works.”

Sana took a small step back. “Layla, I—”

Layla reached out, grabbing Sana’s wrist before she could retreat any further.

“Sana,” Layla said in a sickly sweet tone. “You will sit in that chair. You will let me cut your hair. And you will like it.”

Sana’s heart pounded. Layla wasn’t just playing around anymore—she was serious.

And for the first time that day, Sana realized just how little control she had.

Sana shook her head desperately. “Layla, please… I don’t want to—”

Smack!

A sharp slap landed across her cheek, sending a jolt of shock through her body. Her skin stung as she cupped her face, eyes wide with disbelief.

Layla stood in front of her, her expression cold. “I wasn’t asking.”

Sana’s lips trembled, her heart hammering. Layla tilted her head, waiting.

“I can do this all day,” she murmured, her voice calm but laced with warning.

Sana felt a deep sense of helplessness settle over her. She knew Layla meant it—there was no escaping this. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a shaky step forward and lowered herself into the salon chair.

Her hands clutched the armrests as she whispered, “…I would like a haircut.”

Layla’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl.”

She took a step back and clapped her hands together. “Alright then! Let’s get started.”

Sana kept her gaze lowered, but she flinched when Layla suddenly grabbed her chin, tilting her face up.

“Look at me when you speak,” Layla ordered.

Sana’s throat tightened as she forced herself to meet Layla’s gaze.

“What kind of haircut would you like?” Layla asked in a fake professional tone.

Sana swallowed hard. “J-just a small trim…”

Smack!

Another sharp slap.

“Wrong answer,” Layla sang. “Try again.”

Sana’s breath hitched, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I—I don’t know…” she stammered.

Layla leaned down, her face inches from Sana’s. “If you don’t know, then I’ll decide for you. Is that what you want?”

Sana clenched her fists. “N-no…”

Smack!

Layla sighed dramatically. “You’re making this difficult, Sana. You should be grateful I’m even giving you a choice.”

Sana’s resolve crumbled as tears spilled down her cheeks. “O-okay… Y-you decide…”

Layla’s smirk deepened. “That’s more like it.”

Reaching for a salon cape, she flicked it open with a practiced snap and draped it over Sana. She pulled the cape tightly—too tightly—around her neck, making Sana gasp.

“Too tight…” she choked.

Layla feigned innocence. “Oh? Is it?” She tugged it a bit more before finally securing it. “There. That should keep everything in place.”

Then, with a dramatic flair, she reached up and grasped the edge of Sana’s hijab.

“Now… let’s see what you’re hiding.”

Sana barely had time to react before Layla yanked the fabric away.

Her thick, knee-length braid tumbled down, spilling over the back of the chair like a dark river.

Layla let out a low whistle. “Wow. Look at all this hair.”

She ran her fingers through the heavy length, slowly unwinding the braid. Sana shivered as her hair was released from its tight plait, cascading freely down her back.

Layla held up a thick handful, inspecting it. “So long… so thick… And you’ve been keeping all of this hidden under that hijab?”

Sana sat frozen, her entire body tense.

Layla suddenly grabbed a brush and dragged it through the silky strands, yanking harshly when she hit a tangle.

“You know,” Layla mused, “this hair needs to be washed before we do anything else.”

She grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and draped it over Sana’s shoulders.

“Come on,” she ordered. “To the sink.”

Sana hesitated, but Layla placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Now.”

With no other choice, Sana slowly stood up and followed Layla to the sink.

Layla guided her forward and pressed down on her back. “Bend over.”

Sana bent at the waist, resting her head in the basin as her long hair spilled into the sink. The cold porcelain sent a shiver through her.

Layla turned on the water, letting the stream run until it was warm.

“Let’s get you nice and clean,” she murmured, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

 

Sana bent over the sink, gripping the edges for support as Layla turned on the water.

“Let’s get you nice and clean,” Layla murmured as she tested the temperature, then directed the warm stream over Sana’s scalp.

Sana flinched at the sudden rush of water soaking her hair, but Layla paid no mind, thoroughly drenching every strand.

“Hmm… this is so much work,” Layla sighed dramatically. “Washing all this hair is such a hassle. You know, if we just hacked it all off to your neck first, it would be much easier…”

Sana’s stomach twisted.

Layla chuckled, running her fingers through the wet locks. “Mmm, yeah, a nice short cut… maybe chin-length… or even shorter. Oh! Maybe a cute little bob—ooh, or a pixie! Imagine that, Sana! You’d look so… different.”

Sana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the words, but Layla wasn’t done.

She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted a generous amount directly onto Sana’s scalp. Then, with both hands, she began scrubbing—hard.

Sana gasped as Layla’s fingers roughly massaged her head, pressing down as if trying to scrub straight through her skull. The thick lather foamed up instantly, covering every inch of her scalp as Layla worked the shampoo all the way to the ends of her knee-length hair.

“You know,” Layla continued, completely ignoring Sana’s discomfort, “I think you’d actually look cute with a really short nape… maybe even shaved up high like mine. You’d love the feeling.”

Sana winced as soap suds trickled down her face, burning her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but the sting only worsened.

“Layla…” she whispered, trying to shift away from the relentless scrubbing.

Layla only pressed harder. “Oh, stop squirming. I’m making sure it’s extra clean.”

Sana clenched her teeth, enduring the rough treatment as Layla continued her monologue.

“And you know what? Maybe I should add some layers… actually, no. I think I’ll just chop it all off evenly. Imagine how nice and light it would feel—ugh, this length is just ridiculous, Sana. It needs to go.”

Sana felt like she was drowning. Between the endless scrubbing, the burning in her eyes, and Layla’s relentless words, she felt completely trapped.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Layla rinsed out the shampoo, letting the warm water cascade down Sana’s back, washing away the suds.

“There we go,” Layla hummed, turning off the faucet.

She grabbed the towel from Sana’s shoulders and wrapped it tightly around her dripping hair, twisting it into a high turban.

Sana straightened slowly, blinking rapidly as she tried to clear her vision. Her back ached from being bent over so long, her scalp tingled from the rough treatment, and her head felt unbearably heavy with the thick towel piled on top.

Layla placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Back to the chair, little servant.”

Sana trudged back, her feet feeling like lead. She lowered herself into the salon chair, shoulders slumped, too exhausted to resist anymore.

Layla grinned as she stood behind her, hands on her hips. “Now, tell me, Sana… was that shampooing comfortable?”

Sana hesitated.

She knew what Layla wanted to hear, but her entire body ached. Her scalp was sore, her eyes were still burning, and her back felt like it was going to snap in half.

“No…” she admitted quietly.

Smack!

The slap came swiftly, sharp and stinging against her damp cheek.

“Wrong answer,” Layla chirped. “Let’s try that again.”

Sana’s breath shuddered as she forced the words out.

“Y-yes… it was comfortable.”

Layla clapped her hands together. “Good girl! Now, let’s get started on your haircut.”

Layla stood behind Sana, hands resting on the damp towel wrapped around her head. She smirked, watching the defeated look on Sana’s face through the mirror.

“Now, let’s see what we’re working with,” she hummed, slowly unwinding the towel.

Sana sat still, her fingers gripping the armrests of the salon chair. As the towel unraveled, her long, wet hair tumbled down her back like a curtain of silk. The weight of it sent a shiver through her spine, the cold strands clinging to her skin.

Layla let out a dramatic sigh. “Look at this mess. Honestly, Sana, how do you even manage all this?” She gathered a handful of wet hair, lifting it slightly before letting it drop back down. “It’s so… excessive.”

She grabbed a wide-toothed comb from the counter and started running it through the damp locks, pulling just hard enough to make Sana flinch.

“You know,” Layla continued as she worked, “I could be nice and just give you a little trim. Maybe just take off a couple of inches…” She tugged the comb through again, pulling at a few stubborn tangles. “But that wouldn’t be very fun, would it?”

Sana swallowed hard, keeping her eyes fixed on her lap.

Layla leaned in closer. “Or, we could do something exciting.”

She smirked, combing the hair back and holding it up, pretending to inspect it. “Hmm… I think you’d look adorable with a nice, short bob. Right at your chin.”

Sana stiffened.

Layla giggled. “Oh, don’t like that idea? Okay, how about… a pixie cut? Ooooh, or even better—a full buzz cut! Just imagine, Sana—no more long hair to wash, no more drying, no more combing… just soft little fuzz all over your head.”

Sana’s fingers dug into the armrests.

Layla watched her reaction with pure amusement. “Aw, don’t be so tense, little servant. I’ll make sure you look cute no matter what.” She dragged the comb through the length once more, then gathered all of Sana’s wet hair into a single thick rope.

Holding it tightly, she whispered near Sana’s ear, “I could just snip this all off right now. One quick chop, and it’s all gone.”

Sana’s heart pounded. She bit her lip, refusing to react.

Layla gave the ponytail a playful tug before letting it drop. “But I suppose I should let my customer decide… So, tell me, Sana, what kind of haircut do you want?”

Sana’s breath hitched. She knew the answer didn’t matter. No matter what she said, Layla would make sure she knew her place.