I had known Trish for about 3 years when this particular event takes place. Trish was a feisty redhead, standing about five foot six. She had a nice chest and had longish auburn locks. She had a lot of Irish ancestry, but a little Italian mix gave her brown eyes and a slightly darkened tinge to what would be fair skin.

Trish’s hair, when we had met, was just beyond her shoulders. She liked to brush it and it had a natural curl to it. She asked me if I thought she should cut it for the summer. I asked her how short.

“Oh, I don’t know. What do you think is too short?”

I felt the blood drain from my face. We had only been seeing one another a few times, we got along great, but we were by no means a “couple”. I could sense her staring at me.

“Are you OK,” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

I gulped at a glass of water and nodded mutely. “Your question caught me a little by surprise, that’s all,” I responded finally.

Surprising me, she laughed lightly. “So, you got a thing about either personal questions, or else you got a thing about hair cuts.”

I felt my cheeks go red and hot as I became acutely aware that she was getting right into the center of my deepest soul secrets. I stared resolutely at her brown eyes, sensing a depth there that I could, oddly, trust.

“W-W-Well,” I stuttered, “I have to tell you. The latter. I got a thing for hair cutting.”

She didn’t crucify me on the spot, as I would have feared. She smiled. “Thanks for being honest. I know we just met, but you told me something many, many men would not even if we were married for 15 years.” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “I love honest people,” she murmured seductively in my ear.

“So,” I said as I slowly recovered my composure after her kiss. “How short have you thought about going before?”

Trish shrugged. “I have given it a lot of thought. Once the summer comes I like to get it hacked off. Long hair is sexy and all, but it is damned inconvenient. So much of a hassle. Sometimes I just want to get it cut like yours.”

I had a short buzz cut, which the length varied depended on my mood and the time of the year. It was fall, so I had let it grow out a bit. She had told me she liked it a bit shorter on me, so I had plans to cut it.

“Really,” was my response. “That short?”

Trish gave me a look I’d never seen before, but as I got to know her I recognized it more and more. She was giving me the `are you for real?’ gaze. “Um, yeah,” she said, a sarcastic twang to her voice. “Are you against girls with short butch haircuts or something? Have I got to be a Rapunzel princess for you?”

“No, no, no,” was my hasty rejoinder. I smiled weakly at her. “I just was a bit surprised. It’s cool as far as I am concerned.”

“Good,” she relaxed and returned my smile. “That’s something I wouldn’t tolerate. A woman can cut her hair any way she likes. Just like a man can grow his hair out and have a ponytail, so a girl ought to be able to get a crew cut.”

I was hooked on her philosophy. “Absolutely,” I enthused. “That’s a great way to put it, Trish.”

Not long after, Trish had her hair pretty severely bobbed. It only was down to her ear lobes, and bristly short underneath. Since we were seeing a lot more of one another, I guess you could say we were `going steady’ by that point.

“They used the clippers to do the back of the neck,” she said with a gleam in her eyes. “I never knew what that felt like until now. Do you get that sort of thrill when you cut your hair?” She knew I owned a pair of electric trimmers and cut my own hair to save money.

“Every time,” I nodded. “It’s always exciting, even many tens of times that I’ve done it.”

Trish nodded. “I don’t really know why I had it cut so short, really. I guess I wanted to gauge your reaction. It’s more a matter of us now, not just me.”

That was the first time we had discussed the future. Most of the rest of the evening we talked about longer range plans and ideas. She cuddled on my shoulder as I drove her home. As we reached her apartment, she gave me a long kiss on the cheek as I put my hand once again on the short bristle at her hairline. In a few moments we were fully enveloped in one another. When she broke the kiss, she was gasping slightly. “You are an unbelievably passionate kisser. I am so lucky to know you.”

“And I couldn’t be a luckier guy. You are the sweetest, sexiest short haired woman I’ve ever known.” She gave me an alluring look. “It could go shorter, you never know,” she said, batting her eyes at me.

“Could it?”

Trish nodded. “Well, I must be letting you go. It’s late.” I reached out and pulled her towards me for a last minute kiss. “Good night,” I breathed as our lips met. I felt like I could melt in the intense heat our passion was making. Let’s just say that I needed the defroster on for a while after that kiss!

For those expecting that we had sex there and then, you’d be disappointed. It didn’t take long before I went to her apartment for a nightcap. That led to exploration and probing hands on both our parts. Her hands lingered on my head and my groin. Soon, we were in her bed and naked. The rest I will leave up to you, but we didn’t sleep much that night.

Our relationship deepened as we got to know one another more and more intimately. We shared a liking for blues music and Guinness. She also was constantly experimenting with different styles of hair. We were seeing one another more often than ever before, with me spending two or three days in a row at her apartment, which was bigger and more spacious than mine. Before either of us knew it, we were celebrating a year together. I had reservations at a fancy restaurant and she decided to get a new hairdo and a new dress. The dress was the softest satin and velvet thing you could imagine in dark maroon. She had her hair straightened and had, for the first time in her life, bangs cut on her forehead. The dinner went fantastic, the night went fantastic, and when we got back, the dress and my suit went flying. Another night where there wasn’t much sleep to be had, but we didn’t care.

After about 18 months, we opted to take the next step, a plunge for both of us. In three months my lease was up and hers was up a month after that. We decided to move in together. Neither of us had ever lived with a member of the opposite sex, but we were so hot for one another, so it seemed to make sense. If we could survive one another this long, we should be stronger than any problems we might inevitably face.

Her `moving in’ present to me was a new haircut. For the first time, she told me, she had it cut brutally short (from her perspective). It was not a longish pixie cut, with the top layered and longer, while the back and sides were shorter and bristly in their softness. Her beautiful head was emerging. I felt like someday she’d be brave enough for an all over clipper cut, a head shave or whatever short radical hairdo she might settle on.

I recall feeling a pang of jealousy at that time. It should have set off a warning tocsin. I recall asking her one morning as we lay, panting after another love-making session, why I never was with her when she got a haircut. She grinned.

“Wrong place, wrong time, honey,” she grinned with an impish gleam in her eyes. She was now almost an open book to me. I knew the look too well. “You’d not want me to see it cut?”

She shrugged. “I never think about it, really.”

“Come on. After only a few weeks together you knew I had a thing about getting hair cuts. I never asked before, but I’d like to go with you next time it’s cut.”

Trish sighed. “OK, honey,” she breathed as she nestled into my shoulder. “Sorry. I guess I never gave it a serious thought.”

It wasn’t like we were going to break up over it or have a huge battle over it. She knew how I felt, and I knew she promised me that next time she wanted more than a `quick trim’ she’d invite me to go along. With my camera in tow!

She had one or two
quick trims along the way, but in the end, she told me she wanted to grow it long again.

“I thought you were liking it short,” I asked. She shrugged. “I did, but I think I grew out of that phase.”

I shrugged. “I guess so, if that’s what you feel sweetheart, you should do what you think is best.”

“You’d like me to keep it short, don’t you,” she asked, a stern look on her face.

I nodded. “You talked once about getting a buzz cut. Or shorter. I was going to photograph you getting it.” I felt a lump in my throat. I was getting emotional about it! I walked away a bit. “Never mind, Trish. I still love you no matter what.”

She came up and gave me a long embrace and kiss. “So I let it grow. Maybe the feeling will come back. Then you’ll get your wish. Do you still love me?”

I looked surprised. “How could you ask? It’s not like your hair style defines whether I love you? I adore you.”

She smiled weakly. “I didn’t mean it quite that way. You know that we have more going to let this be a hiccup. I’ll think about it after a while. I could change my mind.”

I grinned. “I hope that maybe you do. But I still love you no matter your decision. You are the one I want to spend the rest of my days with. You mean that much to me!”

The passion was still there, no matter what her hair style.

After about 6 months of letting it grow, Trish told me she was going out one Saturday. I was working on some things around the house, so I kissed her and she went out.

I was used to her taking time out, but I got absorbed in some woodwork, and didn’t notice the time. I heard the door close and her voice. There seemed to be something wrong. She sounded plaintive. I called out and she told me she’d come to me.

First she had a cry. As I realized that, I realized that she had the very cut she had told me she wanted to try nearly three years ago! She had a crew cut! I was shocked and amazed. But she had cried.

“I decided to surprise you,” she said. “I know you wanted.”

“You..you.” I stuttered, unable to speak coherently. “You just upped and got a buzz cut? Without telling me?”

Trish nodded, her short, bristly hair catching the glints of sunlight. “I know you wanted to take pictures. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I..”

I felt a sudden rage build inside me. I don’t know why nor why it should surface. First, I would not raise a hand against her, or deliberately hurt her. My rage was more emotional than that. I reached out and began to disrobe her. I pulled all her clothes. She didn’t resist, as she didn’t seem to know why I was doing it.

“You will be punished,” I said sternly. “No clothes for you while you are in the house. You must also be willing to submit to my desire for you.”

Trish nodded. “I’m sorry. Of course.”

“Like now,” I said, pulling off my shorts and my underwear. I pushed her, firmly but not hard to the wall and I then reached down to ease my swollen penis upwards to meet her waiting, moist vagina.

I pushed into her vagina with an insistence that I don’t know if I’d ever felt before. I began to rhythmically pump into her. Trish began to moan as the sexual drive took over and she began to loose her will to resist my sudden advance. We had always had a pretty open sexual relationship, but she was now under my control as a punishment. We had never had any sort of dominating fantasy in our passion. Why it chose to unearth itself at that moment out of the depths of my soul is beyond me. I just know she became entranced by it and was willing to submit to me. Of course, I wasn’t going to hurt her, far from it. I wanted a stronger relationship to come out of it, but Trish needed to be taught a lesson. She needed to be my willing, immediate slave for as long as it took for me to get her to know how I felt right now.

I pushed my hand under her breasts and took one of them into my mouth. I always enjoyed her breasts, they were firm and just the right size to be cupped and suckled. They were delicious as always. My other hand started to caress her ass, pushing into her butt cheeks and grasping, probing her to more and more of a sexual frenzy.

One thing that had made me like Trish was she had a sexual energy that would drive her inner rhythm. She could work herself to orgasm very easily. I helped in that regard, she told me, since now she didn’t have to imagine a sexual encounter, she was living it. In my ire over the haircut, I dropped all my inner control, so it didn’t take long for me to orgasm, my rock hard, throbbing penis pulsating into her. She moaned with delight and shivered.

I continued to fondle and kiss her until she gasped that she had reached the sexual zenith as well. I began to back off, feeling like I had done something wrong, but she was smiling. “I didn’t know you were that vivacious about it,” she gasped. She reached out for her clothes, strewn about her.

“What are you doing?”

She paused. “I’m going to put on my clothes and go shopping.”

“No, no,” I replied. “Remember, until I release you. You are my slave. No clothes.”

Trish looked at me oddly. She sighed. “I suppose I deserve this. I had it coming.” She dropped the clothes she had started to pick up. “I’m at your service, but I plead for clemency.”

“I’ll consider it. For now, I think that I’ll make us some lunch.”

Trish moved off. “I’m the slave for now. Command me and I’ll do it.”

We’d always shared many tasks like meal preparation and laundry, so it seemed odd she wanted me to order her to do it. “You’re my slave at the moment, but not forever. I don’t want to be totally unfair here.”

Trish shook her head. “I was totally unfair to you. You asked me, more than once, to let you come with me when I got a hair cut. I decided to surprise you instead of fulfill your wish, so I deserve the penalty. I just hope you’ll remember,” she added slyly and with a grin, “I was once a free girl. I’d like to be again.”

I nodded my understanding. “OK, then. How about lunch, then some more sexy frolics?”

Trish bowed. “I am yours to command. I will obey.” She giggled lightly and then moved off to the kitchen.

Trish did some work around the house, but she did it completely naked, after lunch. She would ask me if I needed `service’ and that would lead to some sort of sexual intercourse. Usually involving me going down on her or something like it. I wasn’t really relishing the role and I considered `releasing’ her, but I bit my tongue and held off.

That night I made off to make a special purchase that I had mooted about for a while. When I was out at the store, I saw a show or movie or something playing on a TV in which an actor was gagged and then the villain proceeded to strip him to the waist. I didn’t follow what it was about, perhaps it was an adult movie, I’m not sure. As I walked back to the car with my purchase, I got a crazy idea. Trish was still my `slave’ for the time being, so I went to the drug store as well and grabbed a few essential items. I felt myself grinning as I got back in the car and drove home.

Trish was dozing on the couch when I got home, so I crept quietly by her. She was still completely naked as I had told her. I stashed my purchases quietly aside and then I walked over to the sofa. I gently roused her and she perked up. “Oh,” she said sleepily, “you’re back. I wasn’t sure how late you’d be.”

I smiled. “Go to bed honey. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Are you coming?”

“In a few minutes. I want to take care of some things. Try not to get too wet waiting for me.”

She looked at me curiously. “OK,” she said. “I guess the slave can’t question the master.”

“That’s right.” I slapped her buttocks as she moved off. After she went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, I put my plans into play. She went to the bedroom. She closed the door as I busied myself with a few things I had left to do. Once I was sure enough time had passed where she’s get bored peeping through the keyhole, I got my digital camera out and mounted it on the tr
ipod. Then I got the drug store items and stashed them in the bathroom. Lastly, I took the small box I had bought for Trish and wrapped it up. I put the camera and tripod in the bathroom. I would have to keep her out until I was ready the next morning. Our bedroom had a small vanity and toilet in it, so I felt safe. Then I got ready for bed myself and stripped down to my briefs. I closed the bathroom door and padded to the bedroom. Trish was still awake as I came through.

“Honey,” she murmured. “Just what took you so long?”

“Never you mind. My briefs feel too tight. I think they need to come off.”

She got the hint and as I slid into bed with her (she had put satin sheets on the bed that afternoon as a hint she was aroused by the whole experience. “Forgive me for getting a haircut without you,” she pleaded. She slid her hands down my torso and pulled off my briefs.

“I’ll consider it once I’ve had a night to think it over. Right now there’s one thing on my mind.”

“Sleep,” she asked, then madly giggled. “It never is.”

“Nope,” I breathed as I brought my mouth down on hers. Another night of not much sleep, but I did want Trish to be rested for tomorrow’s activities.

I slipped out of bed early, careful not to wake Sleeping Beauty next to me. Then I slipped into the kitchen and started to make some breakfast. I got a tray ready. I put out a tray and once I had made the toast and her favorite, egg bagels, I brought it in. She was still asleep, her breathing deep and regular.

Gently I shook her awake and she rubbed her eyes and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Early,” I said. “But, slave, I have some things for you to take care of. You’ll need your strength.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “Um, what?”

“Eat up,” was the rejoinder. “You need to eat up. Then you ought to be ready.”

“What for?”

I shook my head. “Never you mind. Have your breakfast.” She looked at me for a few moments, then she shrugged and started to eat. I could tell, inside, she was practically dying of curiosity. The hunger in her eyes was enough for me to recognize. Not long now.

She ate well, but quickly. She wanted to know what was in store. Would I make her rake the yard, like a modern day Lady Godiva? Or would she have to do something more humiliating? She was ready to explode by the end of her light breakfast.

When I knew she was done, I took her by the arm and led her to the bathroom. Now my plans were coming to a head. She saw the camera on the tripod. Also there was a stool and some shaving implements on the vanity.

“Sit down,” I commanded her and Trish, after swallowing hard, complied. I switched the camera on and focused it on her. I set the timer on it to take photos every 15 seconds. Then I filled the vanity with warm water. I got the razor out of it’s package and pulled out a bottle of aloe baby oil and some of my shaving cream. At this time, I had taken to shaving my own head smooth, so many of these items were already present and Trish was used to them. She began to shiver.

“You’re not.” she trailed off, her voice weak. “Oh Jeff, you’re not going to.Oh.”

I pulled a towel out and wrapped it around her neck. “Oh yes, you are. My delicious slave.” I soaked my hands and started to rub them over her short, bristly head. I wanted her scalp good and wet.

“No,” she said, squirming. “Yes, slave,” I replied. “Comply with your master’s wishes. You surprised me, now, in turn, this is my surprise for you.”

“Not a shave.please no.” Underneath the towel her nipples were starting to redden and swell up, ever so slightly. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she started to rub her knees together, a sure sign she was getting horny.

Once I was satisfied that she had a soaked scalp, I began to lather up the foam and spread it over her delicious head. I made sure to thoroughly cover her neck and head in the white, warm foam. Meanwhile the camera continued its slow, rhythmic clicking every fifteen seconds.

I began to pull the razor over my lover’s head and I felt my cock go completely hard in only a few seconds. This is where it was at!

At first, as I had done to myself when I first shaved it, I went with the grain of hair growth, rinsing off the excess hairs and foam. Normally, I recycle the shaving cream for the second pass, but this was such a special occasion that I opted to re-lather her head with fresh foam. As each pass scraped over her scalp, she emitted little moans of ecstasy. Clearly she was getting hornier by the minute! I worked very slowly, knowing how sensitive the skin could be when a razor is run over it. As I saw the micro short hairs that emerged, more and more with each pass of the razor, I realized that I had such a stiff member that it was likely to rip open my briefs. I paused and dropped them. Trish glanced and noted my swollen, rock hard cock. She reached behind her and began to stroke it. “Nice penis. Wanna play with baldie?”

I must have emitted a low groan, she glanced up at me. “How much longer until I can give what your cock deserves? A good home,” she continued, with a light laugh. “Bald girl wants her boy’s meat.”

I laughed. “He must wait until all is just right.”

“If I knew you’d get this hard.” she said, trailing off as I recommenced the shaving experience. “It feels totally awesome. I never would have guessed.”

I worked around her head with the same methodical slow precision. Then I rinsed off the razor. “Are we done,” Trish asked and started to rise.

“Sit,” I said. “I’ll tell you when you can get up.” She looked subtly cowed and sat down. “My butt hurts on this thing.”

“Not long now, you fussy little thing,” I laughed. “Now, be still.” She quieted down as I started to lather her near bald scalp again. I once again covered her whole head and neck. I rinsed the razor off and began to work at the crown, this time shaving against the grain. Slowly I pulled the razor through a forest of foam, and bare, smooth skin emerged beneath. I would rub it with my fingertips to make sure it was smooth. If I found a holiday, I would re-shave it with long, rhythmic strokes. Despite the length of her hair when I started, the razor did a pretty good job of removing it and allowing her beautiful scalp to emerge.

I soon was satisfied no hair had escaped the razor’s loving embrace. As I rubbed the towel over her head, she reached up. I batted her hand away. “Not yet, not yet.” She pouted, but she lowered her arm again. I then rubbed the baby oil over her head, working it in with my fingers. “It’s just like conditioner,” I told Trish. “Just smells better.”

She smiled, still obviously enjoying herself, despite the shaven scalp. I then had her rotate around on the stool as I took some close-up pictures of her head. She glowed with radiant energy, as if I had just released from a long incarceration. We had often joked that Horny was her middle name, now it was especially so.

“Wait.one more thing.” I grabbed the small box I had wrapped. “The last act you will do as my slave is to open this and listen to my words. Then I will consider you released.”

“Pity, I rather enjoyed being naked around the house,” Trish grinned. She started to open the box. Inside was a diamond engagement ring. I had saved for a while to buy it for her. Now was the time. “My bald lover,” I said, falling to one knee. “You are gorgeous. You are my everything. Bald or not, you are beautiful. I ask that you consider your punishment fairly meted out and that you will consider walking down the aisle with me. Will you marry me?”

She reached up and rubbed her bare head for the first time. “I’ve listened and I should be seething after a forced haircut like this. I ought to be livid, angry and upset. Instead I am hotter than the desert at midday.” She slipped on the ring and it fit her fine. “Of course, bald girl’s don’t often get rings, but they also don’t usually also have such a special man in their life either.” She gave me an enormous kiss on the lips. “I will marry you!”

I smiled a
nd held her at arms length. “You are released as my slave. You are Trish again.” She grinned. “Still,” she muttered. “I liked the feeling of being controlled. Maybe we ought to explore a bit of our own fantasies.”

I nodded. “Anything you desire that I can do, I will try.”

Trish stood up. “Good. Then I want a good long fuck. As good and long as you can stand.”

I grinned as I turned off the camera. “Your wish is my command!”

“Really.?”

Trish decided to form a group of girls who liked their heads shaved. One girl named Kristen came over and we soon met Beatrice and Shauna, both of whom wanted to become bald but were afraid. “My fiancé will shave you,” Trish offered. It was still a bit weird to hear us call each other that, but I wanted this very special woman to be called my wife.

Despite my inner thoughts of how she would handle it, she loved the shaved look on her own head. She often had rubbed and caressed my own bare head, so when she was as bald as I, I reciprocated. She learned to shave it from me. She decided to grow it out for the wedding, but she vowed she would shave it bald right afterwards. I couldn’t wait.

“Unlike before, you WILL know when I am ready,” she said. “No one else is going to cut my hair unless it’s my new husband. He knows what I like best.”

And, you know what, life couldn’t be better!