?Hey, I heard there is a new fantasy salon opened on the west side of the city around 53rd Street and Vine Avenue. Anyone had a chance to check it out yet?? someone said.
?Yeah, I heard about it too but I don?t think it is the kind of place anyone of us might want to frequent,? someone else replied. ?What would the boss think if she found out that one of us or any of us came in to work in that kind of dress? Or if she heard us talking about the idea of fetish dress??
?Yeah, she is too strict when it comes to company policy for dress and grooming,? someone else answered. ?We don?t dare even be found in a miniskirt for fear the boss would go crazy.?
She was sitting back at her desk, updating her files, listening into the conversation. They did not know she was spying on them and what they were doing. She knew her rules were strict but she demanded professionalism from each and every one of her employees. She had built up her company from the ground floor, being involved in every aspect of hiring and disciplinary actions. She had trained the sales people, the clerks and she even spent time in the shipping department, making sure every package went out exactly like she wanted it to. Nothing slipped through her fingers. To keep her company where it was, she had to rule with an iron fist.
But to hear them talk about styles and fetishes, well, this was new territory to her. She was not known as one who had a fetish or a fantasy but then, they did not really include her in any of their conversations. How do you talk to your boss about secret fantasies and desires?
But she did have a secret that haunted her; a secret that she knew she would have to deal with for the rest of her life. Maybe if she went and checked out the salon, maybe, she might find someone who would help her find herself and her secret desire and maybe even help her get rid of the pain.
5:00pm finally came around and all the staff checked out. She sat at her desk alone, finishing payroll and updating her personnel journals. Tomorrow would be a hectic day as she had evaluations to do. She could do those at home. Maybe if she got out of the office quickly, she could go and check out this new salon and maybe find someone who could help her resolve the guilt and anxiety of the accident.
She looked up at the clock, straightened her desk, locked her filing cabinet, grabbed her notebook computer and files and then locked her office. She took the elevator down to the garage and got into her car. ?Today. I must do it. I cannot let it go on for another year,? she said as she looked at a photograph of a young blonde-headed girl. ?I wish you were here.?
She started her car and drove out of the garage. She headed northwest to get to 53rd Street. From there it would be a 15 minute drive to find Vine Street and then who knows how long before she found the salon. As she drove along, memories flooded her mind of a daughter she had to discipline three years ago for disobedience and disrespect. Then as she was just starting to rebuild a relationship with her daughter, she lost her just last year in an automobile accident; how she did not get a chance to say ?good-bye? because she had been so pre-occupied with her company. But with her daughter?s 18th birthday approaching, she needed to make amends with her own conscience and feelings.
She needed to experience what she had done to her daughter as punishment for disobedience: how she dragged her daughter into the barbershop and had her sheared close to the scalp. As they were starting to rebuild their relationship, she had made a promise that on her daughter?s 18th birthday; she would do something special as a gesture of love and friendship.
She eventually came upon Vine and 53rd Street. It took her a couple of minutes to locate an underground parking garage. She paid for two hours parking time and then exited the underground. She had no idea as to where she had to go and after looking around and walking aimlessly, she finally found someone who knew of a new beauty salon that catered to exclusive clients.
Was that it? She was pointed in the right direction and eventually she came upon a building with a large storefront window. She looked in to see racks of erotic clothing. ?I don?t see any salon,? she said. ?Maybe I have the wrong place??
She continued to look inside. She finally approached the door and pushed it in. A clerk at the desk saw her. ?May I help you?? she asked.
?I seem to be lost,? she said. ?Ummmmmmm?????????.. I heard about an upscale salon that catered to ????????????????.?
?Fantasies and fetishes?? the clerk asked. ?You found it. How may I help you??
Yasmin looked nervous as she cleared her throat. Under her breath, she whispered: ?I wish you were here right now.? She looked at the clerk. ?I have a need to fulfill a certain ????????????.
?Fantasy?? the clerk asked.
?I don?t know,? Yasmin answered. ?Do you want to sit down? You look a little uncomfortable,? the clerk said. The clerk led her to a couch. They sat down together. ?Now tell me why you are here.?
She told the clerk about her business and how her staff felt she was too strict and how even her daughter felt that way before she left the earth for a better place. She told the clerk how she humiliated her daughter when she lied about drinking at a party. How she ruled her staff with an iron fist. How the staff seemed to ignore her; how everyone was afraid of her. How she just wanted to be accepted.
?So what can we help you with?? the clerk said.
?When my daughter and I were starting to get back on good terms, I made her a promise that I would do something special on her 18th birthday to prove to her that I loved her and that I was sorry for all the bad things I did to her. I need to make it right. Her birthday is next week. I promised I would live what I did to her that night when she lied to me. I would have my hair cut off by a barber and get my head buzzed. But I have a second fantasy. I want to be treated as inferior. I do not want to be dominated; you know, spanked or tied up; just slightly humiliated,? she explained.
?I think we can help you with that. Did you want your hair cut by a male or a female?? the clerk asked.
?I had my daughter?s hair chopped off by a woman, who owned an old-fashioned barbershop,? she answered.
The clerk got up and walked to her desk. She returned with a clipboard. ?I need you to read and sign this declaration. It basically says that you came in voluntarily and you will not hold us responsible for what we do to you. You expressed a fantasy and asked us to fulfill it,? the clerk said. ?Once you have signed the declaration, you have no say in what happens to you. We will not do more then what you have asked for. Slight humiliation and a buzzed hair cut; all hair on the floor.?
Yasmin nodded her head and signed the declaration. The clerk took the clipboard and then pointed to a door. ?You go in there and wait until someone comes and gets you. They will take you to the basement level where the fantasies are fulfilled,? she said.
?Do I pay you now?? she asked.
?No, you will be billed privately,? the clerk said. She walked with Yasmin to the door and stood beside it. ?Once you go inside, you cannot come out until we are finished. You can still walk away,? the clerk said.
?No, I must do this. Could I ask for one more thing?? she said.
?Ask,? the clerk said. ?Could this be videotaped?? she said. ?I videoed the haircut when I took my daughter to the barbershop.?
The clerk nodded her head. ?I will write it on the declaration,? she said. With that she opened the door and Yasmin stepped inside. It was a plush room, red carpets and red velvet drapes. A beautiful waiting area. She found a mirror and stood beside it as she brushed out her blonde hair. Her hair was the same color as her daughter?s had been. Beautiful honey blonde.
She found a chair and sat down. She looked at other people waiting to have their fantasies fulfilled. How would her staff react when she went in to work on Monday? Would they say anything? Would she feel fulfilled after the fantasy? Would she still have feelings of loss and anxiety over what she had subjected her daughter to? If her daughter was still alive, would she accept what she was about to do? Would she understand how her staff looked at her as the dominant force in the company?
All these questions flooded her mind as she studied the other people in the room. She did not even hear her name called. The clerk was called in to snap her out of her memories. Yasmin looked around as she stood up and the clerk pointed her to the elevator. ?Take it to the basement and ask for Ashley,? the clerk said. ?She is going to handle your fantasy.?
She got on the elevator and pushed the button to the basement level. She got off the elevator and stood infront of a desk. ?My name is Yasmin. My name was called. I was told to ask for Ashley,? she said as she announced herself to the clerk.
?Fourth door on the left,? the clerk pointed. Yasmin walked back. The heels of her shoes made a loud click as she walked across the floor. She counted off the doors; one???.two???..three?????????. She took a deep swallow and heaved a sigh. ?Four,? she said as she opened the door.
Inside the room in the middle of the floor was a modern beauty parlor chair. On the wall a counter and on the counter, a pair of scissors, a comb, a brush, and a pair of electric clippers with two guards, also a straight razor and a can of shaving cream. She closed the door and looked around. In the corner was a tripod and a video camera.
A voice came over speaker. ?Your fantasy is ready to begin. You will obey my every command; no questions asked. Once I enter the room, you are totally mine. Do you have any questions??
?No,? Yasmin said. ?I am here to do what I need to do.?
The door opened and in walked a young blonde female, dressed in a barber?s smock. ?Take off your blazer, your blouse, and your skirt. You can wear your pantyhose and your shoes,? the barber said. ?Your fantasy says you want to feel slight humiliation and domination.?
Yasmin looked at the barber. ?Do it!? the barber ordered. Yasmin gasped as she unsteadily unbuttoned her blouse. ?Throw it in the corner, there!? she ordered. ?Your skirt! Hurry up. I have other clients too.? Yasmin stood there, stripped of her professionalism, dressed only in her pantyhose and her shoes. ?The chair!? the barber ordered. Yasmin walked slowly to the chair but not fast enough as the barber grabbed her by the arm and pulled her forward. ?I told you to get in that chair, Yasmin! I don?t like it when you are uncooperative. You are such a spoiled child.?
The barber grabbed a blue vinyl cape from off the counter top. She flicked it open and threw it around Yasmin?s neck and fastened it with a clip. Yasmin sat still in the chair as the barber picked up a brush. ?Spread your legs open,? she demanded and Yasmin did as she was told. The barber adjusted the cape so that it fell between her legs, instead of providing coverage. ?Your hands! At your crotch.?
Yasmin did as she was told. Her hair was stroked a few times and then the barber picked up the scissors. She grabbed her hair and pulled it back in a ponytail. She put an elastic around the ponytail and then hacked it off just above the collar, leaving a large curl just touching the collar of the blue vinyl cape.
Then she started to cut away the hair at the sides; cutting it over the ear and taking away a lot of bulk. With her hair badly styled, the barber placed her hand at her cheek. She gently pushed her head to the side. She picked up the clippers, took off a long guard, replaced it with a closer guard and placed the teeth of the clippers at her ears.
?Since you have trouble listening to directions, Yasmin, maybe if we cut off all this hair, you will be able to hear me better,? the barber said.
?No, Mommy! I am sorry. I won?t lie again. I promise!? Yasmin heard herself say out loud, just as her daughter had said three years previously.
?It is too late! You have upset me for the last time, young lady!? the barber said. ?You cannot be trusted. I cannot have my daughter going out and getting drunk. You are only fifteen years old.?
?I hate you!? Yasmin yelled.
That is exactly what Yasmin had said to her daughter when she had her at the barbershop. Then she ordered the barber to shave her head for lying to her.
The barber flicked the switch and ran the teeth into Yasmin?s blonde locks. Hair fell over her shoulders and dropped infront of the chair. The barber pushed hard as Yasmin moaned. She rubbed the vinyl cape into her crotch and shivered with the sensation she was feeling; the vinyl cape against the pantyhose and her clipped bush.
The barber continued pushing the clippers deeper and farther up her head toward the crown. She buzzed the sides and then did the neck area. As she finished the sides, she placed her hand on Yasmin?s crown and pushed her head down. Yasmin was finally able to see her blonde locks on the floor infront of the chair. "For you,? Yasmin said as the barber held the clippers at her hairline and pushed the clippers into her crown.
Yasmin breathed in a huge breath of air. The barber continued to push her head down into her chest. ?I promised I would do the right thing when you turned 18. I am sorry you are not here to see me keep my promise,? Yasmin said. With that, Yasmin surrendered herself and her beauty to fulfill her promise.
Author: hairman001 Copyright protected ? 2003 Copyright legal and registered to the author. Not to be transferred or downloaded to any other site without the written consent of the author.
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