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(A Femdomme / malesub tale)

`Hi, come in!’ she said with a sweep of her hand. `I’m just on the phone, I’ll be with you shortly’. She led him into the lounge and as she moved off, looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

It was the first time he’d seen her dressed this way. Gone was the conservative business attire, replaced by a rich, plum-coloured, polo-neck worn under a black leather vest, well-cut black leather trousers and black, heeled boots. A silver pendant lay around her neck. He thought it all went perfectly with her short, steel-gray hair.

He looked around the room, taking in the smart d├ęcor, furniture and ornaments, paintings and wall hangings. `Very eclectic tastes. And all suitably stylish.’ He walked over to the array of photos on a sideboard. Lots of family shots, a few of Margaret receiving awards, one of a border collie and a couple featuring Margaret with a younger man, both of them beaming broadly. Stephen picked one of these up and smiled – the man’s head was smooth.

`Ah, Mark. He was a delightful man. We were very close.’

`Do you mind me asking what happened?’

`Not at all. He died of cancer. Seven years ago.’ Her eyes started to mist up and she smiled awkwardly. `Look at me.’ pulling out a hanky and dabbing her eyes.

`I’m sorry for you, Margaret’.

`Oh that’s all right, Stephen.’ She took a deep breadth, recovering her composure. `He was wonderful. But life has to move on.’

Stephen nodded knowingly.

There was silence for a few seconds and then Margaret commented, `That’s a very nice sweater, it suits you. I love a polo-neck on a man. Must be the collar – all high and tight!’ They both laughed.

`Now, let’s have some cake. Like tea or coffee?’ she said brightly.

`I’m definitely a coffee man.’

`Coffee it is.’

They made their way into the kitchen.

Over the cake they chatted lightly about various things. As Margaret finished putting the dishes and cups on the sink she turned to Stephen and said with a warm smile, `But we’re here for something more than just a little chat, aren’t we?’ He returned her smile and nodded slowly. `Yes Margaret.’

She came over and ran her hand across his hair. `It’s so long! I can’t stand it.but then, mmmm, there is more to remove, much more’, she said mischievously.

The now familiar scent of her soft perfume washed over him. He took a deep breath, reveling in its subtle delights. He looked up at her and simply nodded.

She led him by the hand through the house, stopping in front of a door. `No peeking now – keep your eyes closed very tight.’

They walked in and she led him to a chair. `You do trust me, don’t you Stephen?’

`Of course I do.’ She placed a soft mask over his eyes, laughing as she said, `You can open them now.’

She helped him into the chair and straightaway he knew it wasn’t the usual type he sat in for her haircuts; it was elevated, had a footstep, solid arms, a large cushioned seat and a back cushion in the same material – perhaps of vinyl or leather.

She took hold of his arms, put them on the cushions of the side arms and secured his wrists to them. His legs were similarly secured to the footstep. And then he was enveloped in a cape. Not the one he’d become used to over the last months – no, this was a traditional barber’s cape, much looser and lighter. But of course the neckline was buttoned up just as firmly as usual.

Margaret removed her leather vest, put on an apron, placed scissors and a comb in its front pocket and picked up clippers. She moved behind him and undid his mask.

His eyes grew wide – there he was, perched high in an old-fashioned barber’s chair, all shiny chrome and dark, polished leather. In front of him – below the mirror – was a barbershop bench, an array of scissors, clippers, brushes, razors and other hairdressing tools of the trade, lined up along its top. In one corner stood a washbasin next to a tall white cupboard. On the wall behind him was another mirror and below it sat a two-seater red vinyl bench, a magazine stand built into its side; angled next to it was a glass cabinet laden with more hairdressing and shaving equipment. A long, folding table lay propped in the corner behind it, next to a thin metal stand with numerous hooks attached – there was some sort of gearwheel next to its centre cross beam. And then he noticed the sign on the glass top:

Margaret’s Barber Shop – where the customer always returns

He smiled broadly. `Ah, just a trim thanks, luv.’ They both laughed before Margaret piped up in mock seriousness, `I believe I’m the one who will determine how long your hair length will be, young man.’

`Ah right, I guess you hold the upper hand.’

`Indeed’, she said, holding up an ancient set of hand-clippers. He was slightly unnerved when he saw them but relaxed when he saw her smile.

`I have quite a `thing’ for barbering men,’ she said, lowering her face coquette-like.


`And a few more `things’ besides.’

He took in her shiny, black vinyl apron. `I’m sure you’ll reveal all, soon enough.’

`Oh I will, I definitely will. You have no idea what you’ll learn about me – and about yourself, of course.’

`All this’, she wavered her hand around, `has been in storage ever since.well, for years, just waiting for the right customer.’

She lent down but maintained her gaze on him through the mirror, a gentle smile on her face. `I adore control, absolute, total control.and I adore a man who isn’t afraid of that. You do understand what I’m saying Stephen, don’t you?’

He closed his eyes and softly answered, `Take me to my leader, Margaret.’

She got up slowly and put her foot on the chair lever, dropping it 18 inches.

She drew herself upright. `Open your eyes and sit up straight.’ He responded to her commands instantly.

`Men in my shop are not permitted to slouch, close their eyes, fidget, make noises or speak unless directed to. They must show proper respect and follow all directions to the letter at all times.’

She lifted a razor strop off its hook on the side of the chair. `Any indiscretions will be severely punished. Is that clear?’

He hadn’t expected any real pain would enter their time and space. This was getting serious. Still.she fascinated him too much to turn and run now. `Whatever’ he thought to himself. `Yes, Margaret.’

`”Yes ma’am.” You will only address me as “ma’am” in my shop. Is that clear?’

`Yes ma’am.’

`Look at you, sitting there all triangle-like in my chair! It’s that polo-neck – I should have rolled the neck down. I know!’ she exclaimed.

A playful grin broke across her face as she undid the cape. She rolled the neck of the sweater up and then buttoned the cape around it, rolling the neck back down over the trim of the cape. He swallowed awkwardly; what had been merely tight was now awfully tight.

`Head down!’

She began flicking the arms of the hand clippers at a furious pace and started in on his hair. `Far too long young man, far, far too long. From now on I expect you in my chair much more regularly. Is that clear?’

`Yes ma’am.’

`At least once a week.’ The clippers hacked at his neck hair. `Is that clear?’

He noticed his cock growing hard, pressing against his trousers. `Yes ma’am.’

`Good.’ She smiled to herself and moved the clippers lower onto his scalp. It’d been years since she had used them but her familiarity and deft skills with them began to emerge, to return. `Ah.’ The rhythmic, squeaky hum of the clippers enveloped the room.

Margaret never hurried with the electric clippers and she certainly wasn’t hurrying with these ones. Once a run over his head was done, back would go the clippers for another, each time dropping a steady rain of slivered hair over him.

Finally Margaret
stopped and lifted his head back. Stephen felt his scalp tingling all over like never before; he couldn’t help admiring the job she had done – there appeared to be no difference in the finish between these clippers and the electric ones she usually used. `There, much better. Of course you still require a considerable length off but at least you’re far more presentable now. What do you say?’

`Ah, thank you ma’am, thank you very much.’

`The pleasure is all mine, young man, I assure you.’ They exchanged a hint of a smile.

Margaret brought the long folding table out and set it up behind the chair. From the tall cabinet she removed a long, thick rubber mat and two leather stirrups with chains attached at the top. She set the metal stand up over one end of the table, fixed the stirrups to the hooks and threaded the chains through to the gear wheel. Stephen was both apprehensive and excited by what he was observing, as his hard cock testified.

Margaret went over to the bench and picked up the largest shaving brush and moved in front of him. `Open your mouth wide.’ She put the brush in, bristle-end in first.

`Count yourself lucky this time – I haven’t soaped it up. Now lets get you cleaned up properly.’

She undid his leg and wrist ties and waved to him to get out of the chair. `Move onto the table.’

Still wearing the cape, he got on the table and lay down on his back. She came over, laid his arms along his sides, kept her gaze on him and began taking his shoes off.

`Young man, I find all male body hair extremely distasteful. With that in mind, any male who enters my shop is never going to leave with any body hair remaining whatsoever.’ She let the shoes and socks drop to the floor.

`My eyebrows!’ thought Stephen in a panic. He blinked and swallowed nervously.

`Is that clear?’

`Oh God.what’s going on!!!!????’ His cock began softening.

Margaret sensed his alarm and quickly decided some reassurance was best. `The season affords us all with the chance to dress appropriately, young man. No one should notice. And of course eyebrows may remain. At least for the moment. They require some thinning though.’

He relaxed somewhat.but.shaved all over.but.he.ummm.really liked her.he. Finally, he nodded in understanding.

She placed her hand on the brush end. `Young man, I don’t want you gagging on this or swallowing it. Don’t just pucker your lips around it, put your teeth into the groove and grip it.’ She slowly moved it forward – his teeth found the required spot.

`Sit up’. She lifted the cape over his head, told him to lift his arms up, then pulled the sweater over his head, exposing his chest and underarms. The cape was left buttoned up around the neck of the sweater. `Lie back down’. Goosebumps raced across his skin as the cool of the rubber mat entered him.

She went behind his head and pinned his wrists together, wrapped the cape around his arms and used a leather strap to bind them with the cape.

`Legs up.’ She removed his pants and quickly pulled off his undies, noticing the wet stain on them as she dropped them onto the vinyl seat. She resisted the urge to glance at his cock, instead hoisting both legs into the leather stirrups. She cranked the wheel until his backside was lifted just off the mat and then adjusted the width between his legs. Now she turned, taking in the sight of his cock for the first time – it was growing hard before her very eyes. `Mmmm!’

Stephen was somewhat befuddled and embarrassed about what his erection was proclaiming but when Margaret lent down and said, `A young man who can’t control his `feelings’ obviously requires someone else to control them for him,’ he felt reassured – he let her words carry him out of his nervousness, out of his all-too-conscious, state. `Is that clear?’ He nodded his head and muffled a reply through the layers over his face.

Margaret moved to the washbasin and filled a bowl full of hot water, picked up a couple of razors, some cream and a shaving brush. She went to his side, soaped up the brush, ran it across one leg and started shaving it from the ankle back.

`Sometimes I prefer to use wax – very hot wax – but for such a hirsute young man, I think a nice close shave is how we’ll begin your regular hair removal treatment.’

She expertly removed all the hair from both legs in a few minutes, stopping deliberately at the top of his thighs. She moved to his chest and tummy, again shaving them smooth in minutes. Margaret saw his still-erect cock quivering slightly, topped with a dribble of pre-cum glistening in the stark light of the room.

She drew a deep breath and leaned in and said, `I find any hint of underarm hair on a young man extremely distasteful. But don’t fret, we’ll soon have it banished for good.’ He flinched each time the hot brush dabbed his underarm; in two minutes they too were hairlessly smooth.

`And now I get to see how hairy your back is. Or was!,’ she said, finishing with a laugh. She lowered his legs and gently rolled him over onto one side. `My oh my, you’ve got tufts of revolting black fluff all over the place! But I’ll fix that up.’ Which she promptly did.

She rolled him back and put his legs back in the stirrups, spread them wide and cranked the wheel rapidly, lifting them and his backside well off the mat. `We’re now getting somewhere. We aren’t far off making you much more presentable.’

Margaret went over to the bench and put on a pair of disposable latex gloves then selected her favourite Wahl clippers, all rich cherry-red plastic and sparkling chrome. She plugged them in, put a number one guard on and walked back to Stephen. `This is the very last time you will enter my shop with hair in all the wrong places. Is that clear?’ Another nod, another muffled response. The clippers came to life – Stephen’s body jolted back involuntarily.

She lifted his balls up and ran the clippers slowly over his scrotum. Stephen let out a series of stifled groans; Margaret smiled, sure in the knowledge it wasn’t from anything painful. Another run, more groans, a trickle of pre-cum leaking down his shaft.

`I remind you that I have not given you permission to make any noises in my shop,’ she said, grinning as she raced the clippers across his scrotum once more. He pulled his body back in on itself and groaned more loudly. `My my, I can see that self-discipline is not your strong point. Never mind, a rigorous and regular dose of my discipline should ensure you behave properly in this shop.’ The clippers moved quickly over his skin again.

Margaret turned the clippers off, lifted his balls higher to make the skin taut, turned the clippers on again and moved them over each ball sac slowly. Stephen’s body shook and trembled with each pass. She let the balls drop.

`And now for the clear-felling.’ With that the clippers mowed down the mass of pubic hair above his shaft. The clippers were turned off.

He found the skin around his anus being stretched; next he felt the hot daub of the shaving brush butter the region. The blade of the razor slid steadily across – he began to enter some mental space he’d never traveled in before. He relaxed, began floating.

The razor moved to the scrotum, then the balls and finally over the stubble of pubic hair. Margaret looked at his deflating cock and smiled. `Ah, done.’ She lowered his legs and removed them from the stirrups.

Margaret quietly removed her boots then soaped up the brush once more and rubbed it slowly up and down his cock – the response was instantaneous. She let the latex gloves drop to the floor and began to rub his cock gently with one hand, increasing the rhythm in response to his swaying. `Oh I love a cock without a single hair around it.’ She tugged and squeezed at his balls, letting her nails send little scratchy messages forward. His rocking intensified. `But I also like a coc
k that behaves. Don’t make a mess young man or I’ll be very, very disappointed.’ Her rubbing intensified – `Oh God,’ thought Stephen, `I want to cummmmm!!!!!!!’

Still rubbing with one hand, Margaret undid her belt and worked her pants off. `I hope you aren’t intending to be undisciplined with that, young man?’ He let out a huge groan. She slowed her rubbing and squeezed towards the head, pooling the gleaming pre-cum. `This cock is no longer yours to control, is it young man?’ He groaned again. `I’m glad that’s understood.’ She climbed onto the table, straddled him and lowered herself onto the pulsating shaft.

She flicked the vinyl apron she still wore over his bare chest and began to gently sway. `I control your cock now, don’t I?’ He nodded vigorous. She began to grind herself into the shaft, her hands propped on the apron, her stockinged legs rubbing his smooth thighs. `It’s my cock, all mine.’ Her tempo increased. `My COCK!!’ she exclaimed, gyrating herself up and down, up and down. `It’s all MINE, my COCK!!!’ Her movements stopped, caught mid-air; she let out a cry, her shuddering body collapsing onto the prone apron. His (her) cock exploded.

She slowly climbed off him and disappeared for several minutes then returned, took hold of his limp cock and gently cleaned it. `That was incredible, my Stephen.’ She heard him sigh.

`Mmmm.but then you went and made a terrible mess! What am I to do with a boy who shows such ill-discipline?’

`Oh no.’ thought Stephen, emerging from post-coital bliss.

`I tell you what. Just this once I won’t punish you, after all you’ve been good in all other ways. And it was our very first time.’ She lent down, speaking softly. `But there won’t be any more lax displays again, will there young man?’ She smiled as he vigorously nodded his wrapped-up head.

`Of course now that I own this’ she said, shaking his cock playfully, `I have to ensure its only ever used in ways that I approve of. I’ve got something to help guide you in this.’ With that she encased his flaccid cock and balls in a hardened plastic chastity cage, attaching a lock to it, plus a small bell. `Now you won’t ever be tempted to misbehave when I’m not around.’ He could only guess at what was now settled around his cock. He sighed.

`Oh it looks much, much better, all trim and tight there in its new little house.’ She shook the device. `And what a doorbell!’ she said, cracking up. `And not a single horrid hair left to pinch or annoy you. You are lucky.’ She shook the cage once more.

`Stay still’. Margaret moved behind him and released his arms then slid her hands in, took the brush from his mouth, released the cape around his neck and gently pulled it and the sweater off him. She lifted his head up and tenderly poured a glass of water into his dribble-caked mouth.

`Thank you’, he said with a croaky voice. They smiled at each other, a smile of profound understanding and shared experience. They embraced.

Margaret eased herself back, took a long, deep look at his face and then they kissed, deeply, passionately. The blood again rushed to Stephen’s penis; it struggled in vain against its new pen. `Ah.’

She lent one hand down and tinkled the bell. They both laughed.

`Look at those hairy arms! And all that fluff sprouting from your ears! And a man can’t possibly go around with such bushy brows now can he?’

He shyly smiled. `Ah, no Margaret.ah.I mean, ma’am.’

`Well it’s back into my chair then. And I can finish your head off too. The chair. Now.’

He tink-tink-tinkled his way over to the chair and within a minute, his arms and legs were strapped back down. Margaret put a thick leather collar around his neck, from which dangled several tiny charm bracelets. He couldn’t suppress his amazement – all of them related to hair and haircutting.

Margaret walked over to the tall cupboard and pulled out a shiny PVC body bag covered in an array of belts from the neckline to the feet. `This is very restrictive – you won’t be able to move an inch when it’s on. Except where I want you to.’ She undid a vertical sliver of velcro around the groin. `Delightful addition I think,’ she said, beaming. `But I’ll leave it for the next time I find you in my shop.’ She hung it on the outside of the cupboard door, a reminder of what would soon be in store for him. She went behind the chair.

`Head left’. He tilted it accordingly. Margaret picked up a small shaver and began in on his right ear. `Head right’. His left ear was soon clean too. Next she picked up tweezers. `Head back’. Stephen swallowed nervously. Margaret was never going to remove the lot but she certainly wasn’t going to let him know that. She thinned the most extravagant of his eyebrow hair and then ordered him to sit up. He relaxed when he saw how much of his brows still remained.

She untied one arm, lifted it up and shaved it clean, then the other.

`And now, the final act. Well for this week at least.’

She shaved his head smooth.

She stood behind the chair, admiring her work and his appearance. `You look absolutely delicious. Just the way I like.’ Her words hung in the air.

`Now after lunch and a bath we’ll get you dressed properly and you can clean everything in my shop from top to bottom. I’m sure you’ll find the panties and hose I’ve chosen for you delightful on your smooth skin. Up you get.’


Stephen did find out a great deal about Margaret in the weeks that followed, including where her fetish for haircutting and shaving men came from, as well as her love for control. He moved in to her home six weeks later, leaving his job at the factory at the same time. As far as she was concerned, his time was better spent looking after their domestic sphere – keeping the house spic and span, tending the garden, dealing with maintenance jobs, shopping, cooking and the like. He didn’t resist – his job wasn’t as important to him as keeping Margaret happy and contented. She had no desire for him to feel like a kept man or a slave; despite his protestations, she insisted on paying him a weekly allowance.

Naturally Margaret subjected Stephen to a relentless discipline regime, even when she wasn’t present. Her preference and passion was for various forms of bondage, both physical and mental. This embraced restrictive outfits, rules limiting his speech and movements, various devices and accoutrements, humiliations both private and public, and on and on. One day he could be dressed in a heavy, enclosing rubber outfit, the next might be spent as a dourly dressed house-char, the day after, in a school uniform sitting at a desk writing tedious essays or doing mind-numbing lines all day. She adored subtle domination and discipline in public – Stephen could find himself completely `en femme’ under his male clothes, wearing a tight leather collar under the roll neck of a sweater or finding she’d put a dummy in his coat pocket (very effective when she didn’t want him to speak out of turn). She also set up web-cams through the house so she could avail herself – at work or on her travels – of his comings and goings whenever it took her fancy. Certainly she made use of the cane, crop, hairbrush, strop and her hand, but she wasn’t one for casual or needless applications – for her they were purely training or punishment aids, used for reinforcing discipline and dealing with bad behaviour.

And of course, each Saturday Stephen would enter Margaret’s `barbershop’. While no two visits were ever exactly the same, he never failed to leave with a skerrick of hair left, bar his eyebrows and eyelashes.

In every sense they were a couple. They married a year later and honeymooned in the States where they had lots of fun hunting down all manner of things to enliven their life, including lots of second-hand barbershop fittings and equipment.

And they lived happily ever after. But that’s another story…

The End

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