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I loved seeing pictures of guys getting forced haircuts, so I often found myself online searching for such images. I eventually found an online group that shared such images and looked through its members list for anyone in my area who shared my interest.

I found someone; a man more than twice my age. He listed himself as a haircut master, but did say he’d be willing to be a haircut slave for the right person. He was 45, and into camouflage pants, shaved heads, boots and bondage. I’m 19, and into everything else that 19-year-olds are interested in, and I had long, fantastic hair that I’d never let anyone cut.

We eventually got talking about meeting up, so that I could experience a little bit of light bondage – fully clothed, just a few hoods and a hogtie or two. There was just one condition – I had to meet him wearing sunglasses. I agreed, and headed over to his place.

He told me to turn around after knocking on the door, so that he could tie my hands behind my back as soon as he opened the front door. He cuffed my hands behind my back, and then cuffed my ankles, with a chain connecting the two. He then asked if he could blindfold me for a surprise. I agreed, and he removed my sunnies and blindfolded me.

He led me inside the house and made me kneel on the kitchen floor. He put a leash around my neck and pulled lightly – enough that I got a feel for it, but without being too much. But then things went weird.

He got a pair of scissors and cut a small tear in my shirt, and then used his hands to rip the shirt apart and off me. I protested and he ignored me. I tried to stand up, but he stood on my ankle to stop me.

He then told me I’d have to eat my breakfast like a dog. He filled a bowl with cereal and waited until the milk made it soggy. He then pushed my head down so I could eat it, but when I started he pushed my face into it with his other boot. He told me I’d have two minutes to lick the bowl clean. If I spilt any or didn’t clean out the entire bowl, there’d be more coming.

As hard as I tried, I failed. So he brought out another bowl of soggy cereal and tipped it over my head. The milk dripped onto my chest and black jeans, but all of the solid cereal stayed on my head. He made a fist and mashed it all down. Yuck!

While I kneeled there, blindfolded, he locked the front door to his house and then removed my blindfold. He had my sunglasses and some chocolate syrup in hand. He squeezed the syrup all over the inside of the sunnies and put them back on my face. I now couldn’t open my eyes without getting syrup in them!

I was helpless. I wanted to get away but I couldn’t. He went and got a blow-dryer, which he said he was going to use to dry the spilt milk. Instead, he used it on my head, drying the cereal into my hair.

"Oh no," he said. "That’ll never wash out." I heard him fire up the clippers. I begged him not to use them, but he did. He cut off at least one third of my hair. It was still pretty long, but I could feel that it was a LOT lighter.

He finally un-cuffed my hands and I tried to get away, but I couldn’t. My ankles were still cuffed. I removed the sunglasses to see what to do, but I saw that if I tried to run he’d just stop me – he was twice my size, and the exit was locked. I had no chance.

He went to the fridge and emerged with a sloppy custard pie. He told me if I stripped to my boxer shorts for him he’d let me go free. I reluctantly did – I’m straight, and didn’t want this guy perving on me – but when I was done he put the handcuffs back on and pied me straight in the face. He ran the pie back and into my hair, with me pleading with him to stop the whole time.

He got another pie and pied me in the ass. He mashed it right in, and I could feel it even through my shorts. Then came a chocolate cream pie sandwich – again into the hair – and finally another pie to the crotch, which he rubbed in HARD.

He got a towel and wiped the pie off my face, but then pushed me to the ground. He stood over me with a jug of custard, which he poured over my head and then pulled my hair back so it ran all over my face and down my chest.

Then he grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup he had used earlier and emptied it all over my hair! "No!" I screamed. He didn’t stop until it was empty.

He then got two cans of shaving cream which he emptied over my body from the neck down. He finally said he was done and that he just had to clean me up. I thought he was going to hose me down or something but instead he pulled out a razor. No matter how much I protested, he shaved my armpits, arms, and legs – everywhere from the neck down that wasn’t covered by my shorts. He then rinsed off the shaving cream with LITERALLY ice-cold water.

Then he went back to my hair. He insisted the syrup wouldn’t wash off, so he scraped a heap out and then pulled out the clippers again. This time, he shaved my hair down to 3mm long! I almost started to cry.

He then got more custard and syrup and emptied them over my head, and finally undid the handcuffs again.

I yelled at him as loud as I could to let me go, and he said that he would, but not before he pointed to a video camera in the corner. He had filmed the whole thing – and he told me that if I went to the police or told anyone else he would put the video stills on the Internet! I would be so embarrassed!

He then undid the ankle cuffs and pushed me out the front door, locking it behind me. I was still in my boxer shorts, covered in custard and chocolate topping, and I had to walk for 15 minutes in public before I could contact a friend to pick me up and bring me some clothes.

Even now, three weeks later, I’m too scared to tell anyone what happened. That’s why I haven’t written the man’s name here – so he doesn’t find out.

I was so humiliated, and have my short hair to remind me every day.

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