HaircuttingStories.com

Hello to all reading this at the story site.  This is Misty, the head She-devil at our femdom hair salon somewhere in a city in the Midwest.  We haven't contributed here lately, but we hope to supply some additional stories as time permits.  Two years ago, we started a secret club open only to women that participate as erotic femdoms (dominatrix if you know that term better).  We do not believe in physical punishment.  We only believe in the use of non-violent means, such as head shaving; we are barberettes after all, and all of us here at our shop have fetishes for buzzcutting the weaker sex (the one's that think with their pole). 

Our MO is to attract a cub (younger male) and seduce him into our clutches.  We require all cubs to undergo a procedure we call SSS (Shave, Smoke, Sex).  We slip them an herbal potion that makes them docile (it contains California Poppy, Valerian, Passionflower, Kava, Hops, Lemon Balm, Motherwort, Skull Cap, and Chamomile made into a tea).  One strong cup of this is about the same as taking a valium but without the side effects.  This makes them very open to accepting our suggestions.  Besides being Master Barberettes, we are all trained hypnotists.  We use brainwave entrainment in our shop to help get our subs into alpha and then theta brainwave states.  At this point, producing deep hypnotic trance takes very little time. 

At our shop, we have a dungeon in our basement.  We have the sub seated in a chair with wheels, and it is easy enough to wheel him to our elevator and take him downstairs.  When he is brought out of deep trance into light trance, he never knows where he is (okay, after their first trip down there and if they become our regular sub, they know of its whereabouts and act as maids for us when we need it cleaned up).

Once we have a sub in the dungeon, we have him sit in our special loveseat.  It is sturdy enough to hold two.  We restrain his arms and legs, and then we place Gaffer's tape over his mouth.  After making sure he can breathe through his nose, we then light up an organic American Spirit cigarette and begin blowing the smoke at his nose as our initial form of domination (FWIW, none of us are regular smoker's and we regularly tell our members only to do this during SSS and never more than twice a week).

Once they begin to inhale the smoke, we begin to stimulate them in their man-parts.  Now, they are ready.  We mount them and insert them into our woman-parts.  While we are putting motion to the ocean, we fire up our Oster Classic 76 clippers with the Andis SS blade (0.1 millimeter).  We shave their heads to peach fuzz, while continuing to blow at their nose and engage in sex. 

This act is an excellent show of power, and almost all subs become much more submissive once they experience the most forceful ejac of their lives (to some it is their first experience).

We have over 250 members, and they are allowed to invite 5 friends as adjunct members.  We capped our membership at the first of the year, but we believe a lot of our stories could benefit you the reader of this forum.  Here is one from our friend Sara in New Jersey.

Hello She-devils. I’m Sara Cuts Haira, SLC14 on the forum. I have talked with some of you before. I have a true story to tell you, and I think your she-devil followers will like to read it.

This erotic part of this story took place in early June of 2007. I was 37 then. In early May of that year, I met a potentially very handsome younger man who was quite awkward. He displayed little confidence, and it came across like a speeding train on the tracks in front of you. He had graduated college with honors but could not catch a break. His lack of confidence kept him from getting a good job. As a result, I met him while he fumbled to sack my groceries one Sunday night at a grocery in East Orange.

I took a long look at him while he fidgeted with my green beans, broccoli, eggs, and Evian. He took stuff out and sacked it again. If he would have just relaxed, he would have been okay. He was trembling trying to do an easy task, and I walked over to help him. I felt compelled to calm him down. Was he like this all the time, or was it the thought of sacking the groceries of a former Thompson model. 

It happens to me all the time. There aren’t many women approaching 40 who look like me. I am not arrogant. I work hard to keep my size 2 figure and was just plain lucky to be born with my looks.  I am fortunate that I was the offspring of a model mom and a genius dad who looked more like Lloyd Bridges than Professor [last name omitted by she-devils] of Columbia University.

I felt two things that Sunday night. I was lonely because I tend to scare away men quickly, and I felt pity for this young man. He was in mid-20’s, and with a little work, he would look very dashing. He just needed a female mentor to bring him out of his self-imposed exile from the world. I gently helped him sack the rest of my groceries, and I purposely did something. I grabbed a package of frozen veggies just as he was reaching for them as well. My hand ended up on top of his. He could have jumped through the ceiling. I asked him why he was so nervous, and he was too nervous to do anything more than shrug his shoulders meaning he didn’t know. Thinking quickly, I knew one way to get to talk to him a little more. I told him that the groceries had been sacked a little too heavy for me to carry to the car, and I asked him if he would take them for me. He had no choice but to do so, because the grocery provided this service. I was prepared to tip him handsomely, but it would not be with money.

While he was slowly taking my bags to the car, I began to speak with him in a manner that would force him to respond. I knew from his nametag that he was “Tony," so I started with, “Well, Tony, what is causing you to be so nervous? Do you have a problem and need help?"

He looked at me for a little longer than his comfort level would allow. He mumbled that he did not like this job because he was always breaking things. I told him it wasn’t the job, but he that was the problem. He needed to learn how to relax and take things easy. Taking things hard would always make everything hard. The rest of the minute or so walk to the car had me giving him all sorts of advice. I didn’t know at the time that Tony was an honors student with an IQ through the roof. He comprehended everything I said, and he listened to every word I said like it was a lecture.

I cannot remember exactly what he said in reply, but I remember him saying something Einsteinian. I quickly realized that I was talking with an intellectual peer. I don’t admit this very often, but my IQ is above your average Mensa member’s IQ. It is 190, and my strongest area of intelligence is visual perception. My senses perceive things that other people cannot sense. I can tell when someone I know is about to get sick, when someone is depressed, or in the mood for sex, etc. just from one of my senses picking up on it. I knew Tony found me very sexy, and he was nervous because of it. Once I quickly picked up on an IQ in my range, I just knew we had to become friends. I don’t have many friends, because I have a difficult time socializing with people who only discuss trivial things. 

As Tony delivered the groceries into the back seat of my Lexis, I asked him if he had ever applied for membership in Mensa. He couldn’t believe I had said that, for indeed, he had not only applied but been accepted. I asked him if he socialized with the members in the tri-state area, and he told me he never had tried. After briefly explaining to him my history, I told him I had no social life either because I didn’t date intellectually challenged men. For what it’s worth, I don’t dislike them, I just tire quickly from a lack of stimulating conversation. 

Whereas a majority of his difficulty came from having no social skills, he thought in his head that he didn’t socialize because he could not find a girl smart enough to talk about what made him happy. He asked me what I knew about the human mind. I smiled because I have been studying the male brain for many years.

It was kismet that we were supposed to meet on this warm Sunday night in East Orange, New Jersey. Tony was not scared to talk to me now. He could talk to me as an equal, phasing out of his mind that I looked like someone who would have made fun of him all his life.

As I was ready to enter my vehicle, I gave Tony my card and asked him to call me. I told him that in lieu of a $5 tip, I wanted to give him free analysis for as long as he wanted to avail himself of the offer. I didn’t divulge my current profession, now, did I? I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Columbia University with a degree in psychology. I earned a Master’s and PHd from NYU specializing in the male psyche. I admit it: I am addicted to getting into the brain of a male and rewiring it. It isn’t difficult to psychologically lobotomize a male who will give himself to you. I could take a vegetarian and make him a carnivore in less than a month if he let his guard down and allowed me to get into his brain.

I didn’t want to be Tony’s psychologist; I wanted to be his significant other. I didn’t plan to make Tony great for the rest of the female gender. I wanted to make him perfect just for me while making him perfect for himself. It would be quite a challenge. When a male has an IQ of 175 or above, the female psychoanalyst must take out all the stops. This would require getting into his pants as well as his brain.

Everything hinged on whether Tony would step out and make the first move. If he didn’t call and make that first appointment, there would be no chance. I instructed Maggie, my secretary, to be on the lookout for a call from Tony [Last Name Omitted by She-devils]. If he were to call, she was to tell him that she had an introductory appointment scheduled for 6PM on the day he called, or the next day if it were past 4 PM. I wanted Tony to come to my office just after I closed for the day. We would not be interrupted.

I waited anxiously for eight days. Tony finally called the office on Monday afternoon, and Maggie successfully booked him for Tuesday evening at 6 PM. He showed up on time for the first appointment. I nodded to Maggie that she could leave for the day and shut the door to my office. Tony was still quite nervous, so I began by asking him why he decided to come here. Tony replied that he wasn’t exactly sure, but he just had to see me again just to talk with me.

We shared each other’s audible biography and discovered many aspects of our lives that we had in common. The one thing that was an instant match was our love for the water. When I told him I owned a boat and kept it tied at Liberty Harbor Marina, he was so envious. I told him he would have to come with me for a day-trip some time. That’s when it hit me: I was going to set him up for the works on my boat. I’d take him down the Hudson River to the Bay where we’d have complete privacy and completely transform him into the sex stud I wanted him to be.

I told Tony that I wasn’t here to psychoanalyze him because he didn’t need that. I told him he appeared to be lonely, and that I wanted to fill that void. I asked him out to dinner on the following Friday night. It was everything a first date with Tony could be. He was still too uneasy to follow up that date by making the second one, so I went ahead and made sure he knew I was serious. Before we left the restaurant that night, I already had him committed to taking me to the Mets game the next night. We were both Mets fans, so when he found out I could easily afford good seats at Shea Stadium, he wasn’t about to say no.

It was following a David Wright home run that I made the first move and kissed Tony. He would have never made the move that early in our relationship. I had been planning this all night, and finally a Met hit a homer. We were both standing as the ball sailed over the right field fence, and I threw myself into his arms and kissed him on the lips like we had been together forever. He froze for a second but only after a second had passed. It took that long for it to hit him. As we sat down, I grabbed his shoulder next to mine, and pulled him to me to give him a hug. 

He surrounded himself with a thin shell the rest of the evening. I knew he wanted to be with me and also knew he was scared to death. It was obvious that even at 24, he had never been with a woman. He just didn’t realize that women found him not only handsome but sexy. It just required him to loosen up a bit for that hidden tiger to unleash.

Four more dates came and went. We always had a good time, and he began to open up a little more. He actually called to select dates number four and six. He started hugging me on his own during the first date after the ball game. He tried to kiss me a couple of times, but he was so unsure of himself, he didn’t really know how to make the first move. When he finally tried again, I took over the kiss and opened my mouth and his, sticking my tongue deeply into it. He didn’t try to stop me. He was happy this was finally happening, and he let me continue for at least 30 seconds, before he pulled out citing a need to catch his breath. My first thought was to look downstairs to see if any developments were in the making. It was a diving board. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. By now, I knew I was falling in love with him. Because of this, my perception was no good to me. I was acting with clouded perception. I could only hope he was falling in love with me.

At this point, I knew we had to consummate our relationship. To think he would make the first move on this was preposterous. I would have to seduce him into his first ever act. I knew it had to be on the boat.

Date number seven was the one. I told him to drive to my house at 6AM on that Saturday. We drove to the Marina, and I took him aboard the boat. We took off through the slip into the Hudson and went downstream, passing Ellis Island, Liberty Island and the Statue, The Robbins Reef Lighthouse, underneath the Verrazano Narrows Bridge into the lower bay. With the FDR Boardwalk barely visible on the bank to the west and Long Island too far away to the east to be visible, I dropped anchor in open water. It was about 9 AM. I went down below to the refrigerator and removed our breakfast. We had light fare because I wanted to make sure he didn’t get sick. He loved water, but he didn’t have sea legs. The floating water made him light-headed and dizzy. I wasn’t upset about that. I needed him to not be in control of his faculties for my plan to work.

After breakfast, we went further south down to Sandy Hook Bay with Staten Island to the north and the Jersey shore to the south. I pulled into Lawrence Harbor so that we could get out, stretch our legs, and I could go buy us two pina colada smoothies. Tony didn’t know I had rum onboard and planned to spike his smoothie to get him loose.

It worked like a charm. He wasn’t a drinker, and rum got to him immediately. He never knew until last year I had spiked his drink and to this day, he doesn’t know mine wasn’t. By mid-afternoon, we were back out in open water. Tony was in a dream world, what with the high and the moving water completely disorienting him. 

Now, I was ready to make my move. I went below to change into my red and black femdom outfit. I called for him to come below. He struggled down the steps into the makeshift water dungeon. His inebriated eyes still proved to be full of testosterone. He quickly stumbled over to the vacant chair next to mine. As he sat down, I began to lay the course for how the rest of the day was going to progress. It went something like this:

“Tony, you are sooooo sexy. I want you and I want you now. I’ve waited too long for you to make the move, so now you’re going to get what I want and you don’t have any choice but to take it, because you have nowhere to go but to the bottom of the bay if you jump overboard in your condition."

Tony kissed me and smiled. I removed his shirt and told him to remove his shoes and socks. By now, kissing had come easy for him, and he began to kiss me all over. He didn’t know what else to do. I made him remove his pants and underwear, leaving him totally bare. That’s when I told him about his transformation to be.

“You would be a killer sex toy if you’d let me give you a haircut right now this second." Tony didn’t know what to say. He just sat and thought. I continued.

“Tony, I know you don’t want to be like you are now. I know you desire to have an incredible and happy sex life with the woman of your dreams, and I want to be that woman. I love you, and I know you love me. I need you to feel comfortable with me and not feel that you have no clue how to please both of us. So, I want to transform you into my sex toy. If you’ll just relinquish all control of your life to me and let me run it for you until you are ready to take some of it back, I will make you happier and more satisfied than you could ever imagine."

Tony didn’t know what to say. He was not in total control of his brain by now, and he now knew this was all premeditated. He also knew that he wanted to be exactly what I wanted him to be, but he still needed additional loss of identity to lose his ability to object. That’s why I wanted to cut his hair. I needed him to not see the usual Tony when he looked into the mirror. I wanted him to see somebody else entirely and convince him he was looking at the perfect Tony.

He never answered that he was officially turning over total control to me, but he knew and I knew that he knew he had no other option if he wanted to be with me. I did one final thing to mess with him. I removed a pack of cigarettes from my purse and put one in my mouth. I lit it up and gently blew the smoke toward his face. This excited him and made him even more stiff down below. I now looked like a bad girl, and good boys always fantasize about being with bad girls. It was too much for him not to relent.

“You can do whatever you want to me," he replied. “I’ll let you have all the power."

That was all I needed to hear. I took the barber shears and comb out of my purse and wet his hair down. At the time, Tony had long hair, about 5 inches worth. I didn’t want to get rid of it all in one swoop, so I decided to cut it down to one finger’s width. I am not a professional haircutter, but I’ve always cut my boyfriends’ hair through the years. I had clippers back at the house, and I planned on using them on him eventually, but only after he was tight.

It took me about 30-40 minutes and two smokes, but I gave Tony a short, scissor cut that looked nice. I left about an inch on top and a little less on the sides and back. He looked very sexy with short hair, and I knew I would be going all the way with his hair almost as soon as I was about to go all the way with his deflowering. He couldn’t look in the mirror yet, for he was scared. I didn’t want to press here, as I wanted to give him what he had been waiting for all his life.

I took things slow with him, as I was on top and he was on the bottom. That’s the way we’ve done it ever since. He loved every bit of it, and when he finished off, his eyes dilated and popped out like globes, his muscles contracted as far as they could, and then he went totally limp. You would have thought I had electrocuted him, but he was knocked out from shear and total pleasure.

We returned to the marina that night, and I drove him home. He still wouldn’t look at his new appearance, and that began to get on my nerves. I am not perfect, so I put my femdom outfit back on, retrieved my cigarettes, went to my bathroom closet to fetch my clippers, and retrieved four towels. I forced Tony to get down on my bed with his head on top of the towels. I sat down on his belly, lit my cigarette and blew the smoke at him from very close range, making him gag. I told him he was going to get another haircut and look at it this time. If he didn’t do so, I would cut every other hair off his body. He knew I meant business. I fired up my clippers without a guard and picked up his head. While blowing smoke on him, I began to shave his hair off, leaving only a fine stubble. This turned me on, and I could barely finish before I needed to be forcing him into more sex. I rode him hard and fast this time, and he exploded more than the first time. When he opened his eyes after the nap, I commanded that he go look at his new appearance in my full length mirror on my closet door. As he did so, I began scratching my fingernails on his stubble. I looked below to find him getting stiff once again. The marathon had started, and it continued throughout the weekend.

To this day, Tony is still my sex toy, and I do whatever I want to him. We love each other, and when we’re not alone, you would never guess we aren’t the perfect all-American couple. But, at night alone, I become Mistress Sara, and he becomes the shaved slave.

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