He had been livid when he found her talking on the phone to the man downstairs.  She tried to explain that she was only giving him instructions with a recipe but her Dom would have none of it.  He hadn’t spoken to her for two days and, finally, when she woke that morning, there was a note on the kitchen table.  In carefully penned letters, it read:
 
     “I have decided that it is time for us to proceed with some of our other plans.  You have an appointment at 1:30 pm at 1313 Whitlow Street.  You need nothing.  I have been by there already on my way to work.  If you do not report there at the specified time, I will consider it your request for release and that request will be granted.  We have had numerous discussions concerning my expectations and your submission.  You know that I do not allow you to have conversations with just any man.  I have told you that the man downstairs is a Dom and you still defy me by remaining “friendly” with him.  So, be about my business today or be gone.”
 
     She was horrified at his direct approach with her.  She knew he had been upset and she knew that she had been over the line the other day.  She was giggling and laughing and almost flirting with the man from downstairs.  She had forgotten herself and her place momentarily and now it was time for her to make amends over it with her Dom.  She cared for him greatly and respected him immensely.  She would follow through on the appointment, no matter what.
 
     She left that apartment and walked downtown in plenty of time to find the address.  She wandered in and out of a few boutiques and a couple of shops.  She went in the book store and browsed around.  On her way out, she asked the clerk about the address and the clerk had given her wonderful directions.  At 1:20, she found herself on the sidewalk staring through the large plate glass window in shock.  She doubled -checked his note and her heart fell when she verified the number over the door and the street sign on the corner.  Her appointment was at a barber shop.
 
     She absentmindedly ran her hand through her shoulder length hair as she opened the door and entered.  The smell of hair tonic and coffee greeted her and the old man sitting at the end of the row of chairs looked up over his paper and said, “Well, Missy, you’re a bit early.  Your man was here this morning.  He said you would be here.”
 
     She smiled at the idea that her Dom had faith in her still, and she said to the barber, “I don’t know why I’m here.”
 
     “Well, I do.  He was real specific Missy.  He told me to tell you to have a seat and relax.  He’s already took care of this,” the barber answered her in an old familiar way.
 
     She eased over to where the man had been sitting and slid into the chair.  The barbar unfolded a cape in the air and laid it over her clothes and fastened it around her neck.  She was startled when he swivelled the chair away from the mirror.  She felt nauseous when she heard the hum of a set of clippers behind her.
 
     “Wait, are you sure he said to use those,” she inquired as she stared at the clippers buzzing in his hand.
 
     “Yes Ma’am.  He said to give you the special.  You know, he’s been sending us his lady friends for a long time Missy.  Trust me, he said the clippers.”
 
     She turned back around and settled into the chair as tears streaked her face.  They had talked about her getting her hair shorter, and she had agreed to it.  She just hadn’t expected it to be done in quite this fashion.
 
     She felt the heat from the clipper blades and a draft on her scalp as the baber clipped a section up the middle of the back of her head.  Her long red hair fell to the floor in a simple, curled heap.  The barber continued working his way all around her scalp.  The clippers hummed steadily as she seperated her from her disobedient self by removing her hair.  She took a deep breath and thought about all the chances he had given her.  He had been very good to her and done exactly as he said he would on all occassions.  She held herself together and focused herself on redemption as the barber collected her penance.
 
     When he had cut all of the hair from her head, he brushed her off with a round white brush and then removed the cape.  He spun the chair around and she came face to face with a new woman….an obedient woman….a disciplined woman….his submissive.  She was shocked at first but she ran her hand over the bristly hair on her head and nodded quietly to herself.  The barber looked at her and smiled.
 
     “You know, he was right.  You do have the head for this,” he encouraged her.  “He told me to give you this if you got through it.”  He handed her a small, white box tied with a blue ribbon.
 
     She opened the box to find money in it and a note that read, “Cab fare dear.  You have pleased me.  Hurry home.  I am waiting for you there.”
 
     She almost skipped out of the shop.  She was elated.  He had forgiven her.  She was his once again.  She hailed a cab and ran up the stairs of the apartment building to find him sitting quietly on the sofa when she came in.  She bounced over to him and knelt on the floor beside his legs.  He ran his hand over her buzz cut and smiled.  Without saying a word, he took her hand and pulled gently, signalling for her to get up and follow him.  She did so and he led her down the hallway to the bedroom where they stayed until well into the next morning