The Cutting Room
TW: Sexual content (for the current part & the next few parts)
Quinn twirled a strand of her long, dark hair around her finger, distractedly watching the people pass outside the café window. Her untouched sandwich sat nearby, forgotten. She toyed with her hair again, over her shoulder, behind her ear, then slowly braided a small strand.
Blake watched her closely from across the table, leaning back in his chair with that same unreadable calm he wore when he was considering something. It wasn’t the first time this week he’d caught her doing it, brushing it, playing with it, like something about it didn’t sit right.
~ Quinn’s POV ~
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Blake said, out of nowhere. I turn to him in surprise.
“Doing what?”
“Messing with your hair. Twisting it, chewing on it. Obsessing, really.”
I looked down, then laughed nervously at where this was going.
“I guess. When I get antsy and restless, it’s habit.”
“You ever think about cutting it?”
I glance up sharply. “What?”
He didn’t smile. “Like really cutting it. All of it.”
My fingers instinctively snapped to my hair lying on my shoulders, sliding it down.
“You’re not serious.”
“I think it’d suit you,” Blake said, voice low, calm.
“Short. Bold. Maybe even shaved.”
I gave a small scoff, but her eyes searched his face.
“You know what my hair means to me.”
He held my gaze. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
I shook her head.
“I love my hair. I’ve spent years growing it out. I’m not giving it up just because you have some fantasy.”
“I didn’t say it had to be now,” he said smoothly.
“Just… something to think about.”
“I’m not.”
Blake didn’t push. He just nodded, as if that had been expected. He could be patient, but not for long.
A pause. Then he shifted gears.
“Anyway. Cassie invited us to a weekend retreat. Her lake house. This weekend.”
Quinn arched a brow. “Cassie from Dominion?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. She’s putting together a small thing. Just six or seven people. Low-key, chill. Mostly sun, drinks, swimming, some light scenes at night.”
Quinn leaned back slightly, clearly surprised. “I didn’t know you still talked to her.”
“Every now and then. She’s been doing well, has her own private studio now, fully booked months out. Apparently, she’s doing more… transformation sessions.”
Quinn gave him a sideways glance. “You mean head-shaving-for-humiliation sessions?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“She still into that?” I asked shocked, I haven’t seen her in a while.
“She never left it.”
Quinn hesitated, then looked out the window again. She’d seen Cassie in action once, at Dominion, during a public scene night. A woman knelt in the spotlight, a collar around her neck, as Cassie calmly ran the clippers over her scalp, the crowd silent but enthralled. It was intense. Strangely beautiful. A little terrifying.
Quinn’s own scalp tingled just remembering it, causing my blood to run cold.
“Is this your not-so-subtle way of getting me to let Cassie at my head?”
Blake smirked. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I just think the retreat could be… good for us. A little freedom. Some fresh air. We could use a change of scenery.”
I gave him a dry look. “If Cassie so much as looks at me with scissors, I swear…”
Blake raised his hands, feigning innocence. “Just a weekend away, Quinn. That’s all.”
But the smile on the edge of his lips said otherwise.
~ Later that weekend ~
We turned off the gravel road and onto a winding private drive that curled through towering trees like we were entering a different world entirely. Just past the last bend, the lake house revealed itself, sleek wood and massive glass panels that reflected the sunlight off the still water just beyond it. Isolated. Serene. Too perfect.
“Wow,” I murmured, my hand resting lightly on the window as I stared. “She wasn’t kidding.”
Blake smiled faintly. “Told you.”
Before I even opened my door, the front one swung wide, and Cassie stepped out like she’d been waiting for us.
She was exactly as I remembered her, tall, sharp, confident in a way that made you straighten your posture without realizing it. Her hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail, and she wore leggings and a cropped tank top that hugged her body just enough to show she knew how to control a room. Barefoot. Relaxed. In charge.
“Blake,” she called out, striding down the porch steps toward us.
I expected her to greet me first, but she didn’t. She went straight to him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug that lingered a moment too long, fingers sliding down his back, the corner of her mouth curving in something dangerously close to flirtation.
Blake hugged her back, just as warmly.
I tried not to stiffen.
Cassie finally turned to me with a wide smile. “Quinn! Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” I said, offering my hand, but she bypassed it and pulled me in for a hug, less intimate than Blake’s, but still close. A little too familiar for someone I hadn’t seen in years.
She pulled back, her eyes sliding to my hair.
“God,” she said, reaching out but stopping just short of touching.
“Your hair’s grown so much since I last saw you. It’s beautiful.” Her smile deepened.
“I’d love to get my hands on it one day.”
My throat tightened. I smiled back, polite but guarded. “Thanks. I’m kind of attached.”
Cassie just raised an eyebrow, then turns back to the house.
“Well, come in,” she said.
“Everyone else is out by the lake, but I’ll give you two the quick tour. Blake, you remember the layout, but I’ve added a few new rooms since the last time you came.”
She turned and walked ahead, and Blake and I followed her inside. The air inside was cool, smelled faintly of cedar and something floral. Clean. Curated.
Cassie led us down the hall, past wide-open living spaces filled with soft leather, sleek wood, and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed everything in golden light.
“This is your room,” she said, pushing open a wide door on the second floor.
It was beautiful, king-sized bed, huge windows overlooking the water, a private bathroom. Lush, quiet, perfect.
“This okay?” she asked.
“More than okay,” I said, setting my bag by the edge of the bed.
“Good,” she said, then pivoted. “Now come see what we added.”
Blake trailed behind me as we followed her to the next door down.
Cassie opened it slowly, like she wanted to see my face when I stepped in.
It was… red.
Deep crimson walls. Thick black curtains, partially drawn. A polished black floor, subtly padded beneath my feet. Mirrors on three of the walls, angled, full-body, and unforgiving. The lighting was lower here, warmer, almost humming with intent.
And then I took it in.
Sturdy bondage furniture lined the far wall, padded spanking bench with adjustable cuffs, a St. Andrew’s cross bolted into the corner, its leather straps neatly coiled. A polished metal rig hung from the ceiling with suspension hooks and carabiners, swaying slightly as if it had just been used. Along one side, a glass cabinet displayed neatly arranged implements, floggers, paddles, crops, and coils of rope, each pristine, each deliberately chosen.
And in the center of the room stood a barber chair.
Old-fashioned. Heavy. Industrial chrome with worn leather padding. Straps hung from the arms and legs, real ones, thick and functional. The kind you’d have to lean into to buckle tight.
I froze.
My eyes locked on the chair, then the mirrors, then back to the chair. My stomach shifted, not fear exactly. Not excitement either. Something in between. Something I didn’t know what to do with.
Cassie stood just beside me, watching.
“This one’s special. Full sensory space, sound, restraint, performance. Mirrors help with the psychological work.”
She walked toward the chair and casually trailed her fingers over the headrest.
“It gets a lot of use.”
I swallowed, unsure if I was supposed to respond to that. Behind me, I could feel Blake’s gaze on the back of my neck. He hadn’t said a word, just watching, measuring.
Cassie turned to look at me, smile unreadable. “You okay?”
“Of course,” I said, too quickly. “Just… wasn’t expecting that.”
“No one does…” she said lightly, brushing past me as she left the room. “At first.”
Blake waited for me to follow.
I looked one more time at the chair before turning away, my hair brushing the backs of my thighs as I stepped out of the room.
But I felt it: Blake was watching me and it made me nervous.
_______________________________
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Hi, The Cutting Room here, this is my first time posting on here, I’ve written a lot of hair cutting stories but this was the very first one I wrote when I started. I originally posted it on Wattpad and thought I would share it here. There will be four parts, and it may differ / be expanded from the original.
part 2: https://www.hairstorynetwork.com/stories/the-chair-part-2/
