Your First Experience with Hair Play

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“Sure.”

The clink of glasses and the low, bubbling murmurs of coffee-shop conversation floated around your ears as you stared at her. She was looking back at you, utterly composed and sat up straight like a noblewoman. She tilted her head at you. “Sure, what?” Something in her eyes was teasing you.

“I accept. I’ll be your sub.”

“Are you sure? It’s not something most people can handle. It requires some… sacrifices.” She took a slow sip of her macchiato, watching you through her eyelashes.

“I know. I like you, and you– uh, I hope you like me. And– this is, this is just something I’ve always wanted to try. Being this, uh, this controlled by someone. Being someone’s thing.” You’d said more than you’d meant to. You looked down a little, hair falling in front of your face.

She paused a while, taking another sip. She let the silence stretch on for longer than most people would, especially after you’d said something as honest and as vulnerable as that. Her cup clinked as she placed it back on the saucer, and she picked up the spoon and let it dangle from her fingers. Gradually, the noise from the coffeeshop started to encroach on you.

“Alright.”

It took you a while to register, but once you looked back at her she continued, expression going a little businesslike. “You know how this works by now. You can choose a safeword, but I don’t use the traffic-light system, so once a scene is over, it’s over. I don’t give aftercare unless you ask for it…” You nodded along, taking in every word she told you like a prayer. You exchanged names, nicknames, soft limits, hard limits, and a safeword. Finally, she put the spoon down and stood up. “Meet me at this address–” she slid you a slip of paper– “tomorrow, three thirty. Don’t take your car, or a bike, or anything like that. If you’re late, I’ll assume you’ve gotten cold feet and leave.”

With a playful look, she picked her bag up off the back of her chair and left, the bell on the door ringing behind her. The only thing left was the empty cup of coffee, the saucer and the spoon. You ran your hand through your dark, shoulder-length hair, gaze resting on the table. You had a lot to think about.

—–

The address she had given you took you farther out of the city than you thought buses went. After nearly an hour of traveling, you turned a corner at three twenty to find her waiting against a door set in a concrete wall, scrolling through her phone. She looked up at your footsteps, seeming a little surprised. You hoped it was because of how good you looked– you’d made a special effort to dress up for her, even putting a hair-mask on last night to make your best feature that much better. “Oh, you’re early.” She didn’t seem all that impressed. “What’s the safeword?”

“Captain.”

“There’s a good little sub. Now come on.” She opened the door to a set of steps leading down to a turn, and walked down them without waiting for you. You couldn’t do much else but follow.

At the bottom of the steps, above the doorway, hung a little wooden sign: “Mitch’s Barbershop (walk-ins only)”. Yeah, right. Like people put barbershops behind unmarked doors in abandoned-warehouse-looking places. She was standing inside, exchanging lively words with a tall man. “… a little rough, too. So yeah, you still alright with that?”

He nodded lightly. “Yeah, that’ll be fine.” He turned a little, meaning to say something, and saw you. “I’ll set you up.” He sauntered over, giving you an easy, generous smile. “Hi there, I’m Mitch. I’ll be helping you with your haircut today.” You could barely see his eyes as he reached his hand out for you to shake. Talking pleasantly and meaninglessly all the while, Mitch led you to a barber’s chair in the corner, then wrapped a brown plastic cape around you, with the rubber strip around the neck digging in a little.

This was getting a little strange. The sign in the doorway hadn’t been a front for a sex club or something… this was an actual barbershop? But then, that meant… Your hand burrowed out of the cape and touched the ends of your hair. “A– Mistress… what’s going on?”

“Shush. Let the man do his work.” You could hear her heels on the linoleum clicking closer. Then, a hand squeezing the back of your neck just so, and you keened like an animal. Jesus Christ, that was a thing that happened? “You remember the safeword, don’t you?” Not needing an answer, she walked back into her corner, crossing her arms with a degree of confidence you could never hope to achieve. “I like all my subs to look a certain way… especially when they didn’t, before. Reminds them they’re not their own person anymore.” She raised one corner of her lip.

Wait, what? You’d agreed to be a sub, you had expected being tied up and jerked off or something, not– this. Whatever it was. Murmuring an excuse, you got up to leave, but two burly hands pressed on your shoulders and sat you back down. “Whoa there. You haven’t even started.” Mitch smiled the same smile he had earlier, even as he physically restrained you. Jesus Christ, were there really enough freaks like this to keep a fucking underground– sex barbershop in business?
“What the fuck, what are you doing? Let me go!”
Mitch shook his head in lighthearted, nearly mocking sadness. He looked back to her corner, where she was watching impassively. “You heard her. Safeword.”
You opened your mouth, shouting “Cap–”

Then a pair of clippers flicked on, and a shiver went down your spine and straight to your groin. Wow, okay. With what your mistress had just said, and the atmosphere of the place, and all the touching – you were one of those freaks now, you supposed. You closed your mouth. The safeword pushed its way to the tip of your tongue again. You tucked it back and relaxed your shoulders, letting Mitch let go of you and take the clippers from her. You were just staying to see what it was like, to try things out – that was all.

Then Mitch plunged the clippers into the back of your head and you yelped, trying to get up, but a stern cough from behind froze you in place. You could only watch your own face in the mirror as, slowly and beautifully, locks of your hair tumbled down behind you and onto the floor.

Mitch buzzed a long, painful strip up the back of your head, then moved to the left and did it again, and again, and again. He grabbed the top of your hair, pulling you over so he could get to the side of your head. He went from the front this time, making short strokes back and around your ear. The growing patch of bare skin made your mouth drop open.

You’d never seen yourself like this before, hell, your hair had never been shorter than chin-length before. What were your friends gonna say about this? Those thoughts were blown away as Mitch jerked your head the other way, and he cleared a huge strip all the way around to the other side. Your eyes widened as almost your whole head was buzzed, little by little.

There was a part of your hair that hadn’t been touched, center front, too little to be called a short back and sides and too much to be called a feather fringe. It hung forward awkwardly now, drooping over your eyes like a tongue. Mitch switched off the clippers and took up a pair of salon shears. He looked at you, twisting the tail of hair up with a finger–

–and snip, it was gone, and eye-length strands were falling into your face. He tossed it onto the floor carelessly, as if it hadn’t been the last remnant of your old self, so to speak. He got a comb and started trimming the leftovers, and you watched helplessly as they got shorter, and shorter.

By the end of it, you were looking at yourself in the mirror, almost entirely buzzed, but for a inch-and-a-half-long patch of dark fuzz in front of your head. Your ears looked so big… your eyes looked weird… your head looked different. Huh. You stared motionlessly, not really seeing it, until she walked over. “Mm. This suits you.”

She grabbed your head by the patch and pulled you to face her. (So that was what it was for.) You opened your mouth to speak. It took a few tries before anything resembling words came out. “Uh, wow, that was… you were… why?”

She shook her head, looking at you with amused, pity-filled eyes. “Look at you. You’ve got so much to learn.” She ran a hand over the bare back of your head, and you shivered at the strange sensation. How the long would this take to grow out? …did you want to grow it out?

Finally, when you felt like you could stand again, you shakily got up, turning towards her. “Thank y-”
“Not so fast.” She pushed you right back down with a smile. “You’d look better blonde.”

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