I stand in front of you, naked except for the long, black hair that covers both my breasts. Already you have insisted that my private areas be completely bare and last night you removed the small triangle of hair in my pubic area.

You circle around me and inspect my body without saying a word. Slowly, you pick up a lock of my silky hair and gently tug it, while tsk-tsking that it covers my pink rosebud nipples from your view. Off of a neighboring table, you pick up a pair of large shears with your other hand and without so much as a facial gesture to warn me, you clip the lock of hair a few inches below my shoulder to reveal my warm, white breast. I gasp, but am powerless to say or do anything. You cut the next big chunk of hair and liberate my other breast as well. As a reward for my obedience, you grasp both my breasts in your big hands and gently caress them, while staring me in the eye.

Your face approaches mine, in what I think will be a deep kiss, but rather you whisper, "We’ll have to do something with this hair of yours.."

In response to your words I feel a wave of arousal throughout my nether regions, that penetrates my body and leaves me breathless. You push me to my knees and start to twine a smaller lock of my hair around your finger. Pulling my head closer to you, you tell me that I will be getting a very short haircut, to remind me that I belong to you at all times. I gasp as the shears crop the lock what I can only estimate to be a quarter of an inch away from my head. I start to cry and beg you to stop.

"Darling," you tell me, "I’m doing this for you. You make me control you like this. You know that you need me to correct you. No more crying." You trace the line my tears have made on my cheeks and then slowly and naughtily you lick the very path you have just discovered. Whispering in a low voice, you say, "Very soon, all of you will be at my disposal. Now shush darling, and be a good girl while I do the inevitable."

You continue to twine my hair around your fingers and clip it short all over my head. With each snip, I quietly resign myself to my fate. I feel the draft on my neck, but that is not the only feeling that my new haircut is evoking in me. I am becoming your slave, everything that you will ever want me to be, I am becoming.

My short crop is finally finished, and you affectionately rub my short mane. You tell me to stay where I am, and leave the room for a few moments. As I am new to the slave business, I do not stay where I am, but rather venture a look in the mirror of the room. Horrified, I gasp at what I see. You have chopped my hair off at all different lengths, near to the scalp in some areas, and short and choppy on the top.

When you return, I am still standing in front of the mirror, crying and staring in shock at my new reflection. You tell me, "So, you have not yet learned to trust me. Did you think I would leave you this way? Oh no. This is just not appropriate. It is still much too long." Speechless, I allow you to lead and sit me into your barber chair where I passively allow you to run your clippers all over my head, stopping sporadically to change attachments. You continue your work in silence and clip and snip for what seems like hours. You take out a straight razor and shave around the sides of my head, angling and shaping, slicing and shaving. Now I feel not only the breeze on my bare skin, but the burning sensation your razors have left. My head stings, and yet you still continue to snip away on the top of my head. You slice and slice and thin out parts and cut others. I have no hopes at all left for my appearance and only wish that I will please you.

Finally you finish my crop. Again, you tell me to stay still and leave the room one more time. This time, I wait, totally exhausted and not even caring enough to see what I look like by picking up the hand-mirror that you have left beside me.

Upon your return, you slip a black dress over my head and order me to step into the stilettos you have brought with you. You then ease me back to the chair, and leave me my purse, telling me that red lipstick would be nice for tonight.

Not knowing what to expect, I take out my compact and apply my lipstick, I focus on my full lips, but curiosity overwhelms me and I look at my overall appearance. You have shaved the back and sides of my head several inches above my ears. The crown of my black hair is at the longest 1/4 inch, and fades down to nothing at the temples. You have given me the shortest of short pixie crops, and to my surprise, I like it. My green eyes appear gigantic, and my jaw-line well defined. My face is more chiselled than I remember it, and I look sassy and yet a slave at the same time.

I stand proudly as you enter the room. You gasp, your breath taken away by the sight of the 5’10, closely cropped beauty who belongs to and serves only you. "You’re lovely," you say "But you still have to be punished for your earlier act of rebellion…"

I smile and as I take your arm to go out for dinner, I can only imagine the night you have planned for me, not to mention the rest of our lives together… I am yours and I am happy.