Home » Language » English » Please Make My Dreams Come True

clipper-banner
Our Reader Score
[Total: 15    Average: 2.4/5]

Harmless.

With that in mind, I sure wish someone would punish me or force me (although I like my head being shaved) to submit to a humiliating haircut. I’ve always wanted to have a MAN kidnap me, rip me clothes off and make me wear something in leather and slutty in public. Show off my as* but keeping it a secret that you have also shoved a butt plug up my as* to shut me up. Take me to a barber shop, and make me beg for a neck tissue, and caping then make me beg the barber for a good ole fashioned straight razor head shaving on a busy Saturday morning, with everyone watching, whispering and pointing to the woman getting her head shaved and being humiliated. Of course you smirking the whole time.

How’s that for a start? Or are you the type to take me to a secret place, still rip off my clothes, place me in a thick, heavy leather harness with padlocks and D rings all over it; immobilize my hands and arms behind me while placing my head in a stockade type device (after the heavy posture collar is put on me of course) so that I cannot move my head in any direction- up, down or side to side. Your desire to humiliate me starts in stages. You have this well planned. You know I hate having my hair touched or even played with. It goes back to my childhood when I was always threatened with getting a haircut if I was a bad girl. You know me well. You scissor my waist length hair to a horrible page girl look just below my ears. Realizing I am helpless to even move, I can only sob louder.

“Oh. I almost forgot!” You say. “Can’t have you making any racket!” Out comes a rubber ball and duct tape- just for my mouth. Next, you turn on the clippers (behind me) and bring them up to my ear so I can’t see them, but I can feel the vibration on the side of my head. It is rattling my teeth. I start to cry, knowing your fetish for shaving woman’s heads- especially against their will. It excites you more.

A quick comb cut and clip, and I am left with a jagged 3″ of hair all over my head. Now, you decide to color my hair hot pink. You also decide to further my humiliation and perm my hair with the smallest rods you could find. After the you mix the chemicals to color my hair, you apply the solution all over my head, not worrying about it dripping in my eyebrows, and everywhere else. While you are waiting for the coloring, you prepare the perm rods and solution. The timer rings to remind you to remove the coloring solution, and you get the garden hose connected to the utility sink. Not caring if the water is warm or cold, I get a blast of water as you rinse the solution out. Next you begin to wrap my slutty colored hair in the red perm rods. Can’t get any tighter curl than that. It takes you over an hour wrapping my hair in the tissue paper and perm rods. I hate it. I know the end result is the shaving of my head, and I sob even louder as I realize you are doing all this just to torture me. With my entire head wrapped in perm rods, you apply the first solution and even place the plastic bag around the curlers. To add insult to injury, you tie the bag off in a large knot in front of my head.

What a picture this is. Did I mention the larger mirror you placed in front of my stockade as we started? And of course this is all being recorded. As I look in the mirror as we wait for the next bell to ring, I see myself. A once strong willed woman with waist long hair, now reduced to a leather harnessed, bound woman, seated with a posture collar around my neck, as my head is wrapped in perm rods, unable to move. You are seated next to me just watching me, watching me look at myself in the mirror. I will never forget these images. The bell goes off and it’s step 2 for the home permanent. After another waiting period where I am looking at myself, the bell rings and you announce it poodle time. You remove the rods slowly, teasing me. You make it a point to snap every tight curl as you remove the rods. When they are all removed, you play the concerned beautician placing your hands on top of my helmet of curls patting them down, asking me if this is what I wanted? Hot pink fuzz! You give me the full treatment and take out the long toothed perm comb and fluff the curls even more. It’s a shame to waste this beautiful color and home permanent you say, but it’s time to move on! We both know what’s yet to come and I am terrified. I try to escape, but you planned this out well. I cannot move my legs, arms, or head. Nice device you made.

I only had a temporary reprieve from the clippers. Out they come again. You had first used them behind me so I could not see. Now you come straight at me, intensifying my fear. You don’t say a word, but what a grin on your face. You approach me with the clippers in your left hand as you position my head with your right hand. I struggle against your hand, but the posture collar does it’s job. You position the clippers right between my eyes for the first pass, and hold them there for what seems like an eternity. I lift my dyed eyebrows and look up. Slowly I hear and feel the shaving of my hair. Seems as if you spared no cost and bought the newest trimming clippers that cut hair to 1/25″ of an inch. Six passes and I have “male pattern baldness.”

You turn off the clippers and grab an electric razor. I beginning to be resigned to my fate as I can only watch in the mirror. You turn on the shaver. It has a higher pitch to it. You begin to run it over the top of my head, back and forth, where the clippers have mowed a path. Next comes the shaving cream for that same area. You rub it in and straight razor my crown. You step aside and I see myself looking ridiculous. I have a large bald patch on the top of my head with very tight curls in a ring around the sides and back of my head. You play with my curls again. I blush in humiliation. You decide to finish me off by clipping from top to bottom. You start at the right side of my head taking 2″ swatches with flicks of your wrist as you move about my head.

Hot pink stubble is now the only thing on my nearly bald head. You also see the need to play with that rubbing your hand over it as it makes a rasping sound. I sigh as you start your last attack. Out comes the electric razor again. I am almost relieved as the ring of stubble is removed so I don’t have to look at it any more. But now I realize this is the last step. Once he is finished I will be shaved bald. I can only drop my eyes (since the collar has me immobile) as the shadow is removed first with the shaver, then the shaving cream and razor. I refuse to look in the mirror. You tell me you are not finished quite yet, but you want me to look and see his handy work. I do not comply. You take my head, placing one hand on each side and tell me to look. Defeated, I raise my eyes and see a pale, shaven headed woman looking back at me. For the another insult you take a polishing cloth and some exotic oil. Rubbing the oil on my head, I see it shine as he works it in and buffs my bald head with the polishing cloth. How about a shave? I just had one I thought. He brings out the straight razor and shaving cream again and starts applying it to my face.

I thought I saw a stray hair he says. You need a facial shave too! He doesn’t spare any shaving cream and rubs it in long and hard all over my face, under my chin, and my lips. He is very complete and pays extra attention to my upper lip; pushing up on my nose. I hope he can’t see the lip quivering. How masculine. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassed. There’s still some stray hair on your face he says. I want you to be a hairless wonder. Before I comprehend what he is talking about, off come the eyebrows. A pinch more shaving cream, 2 flicks of the wrist and my eyebrows are gone. And for good measure he clips my long eyelashes to nubs. No shaved woman is complete without makeup he says! Is there no end to my torture? Bright red lipstick adds to my pouty lips. He puts it on thick and heavy, steps back and smiles. He really enjoys his handiwork. And finally. a tattoo for your bright, shiny head. He says he has thought l
ong and hard on the design. “I want you to think of me whenever you look in the mirror. My hand always controlling you.” He puts his large hand on my shaved head, his palm to the rear of my head and his fingers overhanging down over my shaved brows and starts to draw an outline. These new markers are incredible he says. This won’t come off for months! He finishes coloring it in. It’s huge and covers my entire shaved scalp. My humiliation is complete. You release me from the stockade. You take me over to the pile of clothes you have left me and force me to dress. The leather miniskirt is so short, it does a “Sharon Stone” every time my legs even slightly separate. Of course there are not any undergarments. The leather tube top has spikes and more D rings. The ankle, wrist and neck restraints are still in place. Time for a walk he announces! Off we go to the mall.

Does life get any better? Thank you for the most wonderful experience of my life.

What I wouldn’t give for this to happen to me. It could happen. I am waiting. are you man enough?

Leave a Reply

clipper-banner