A Bad Man And A Good Decision

I've always had shoulder-length hair. For my face, round, and figure, zaftig, it has always been the most flattering. I was born with medium-dark mousy brown, naturally wavy hair. It did have blond and red highlights, depending on the light. My skin is ruddy, so turning blond was out of the question, so I colored my hair a reddish brown for many years. When I retired, I stopped coloring and let my hair go to its natural dark/silver strands. I hated trying to keep up with the roots. I was never one for fads and fashions, be it clothes or hair. I wore what looked good on me. None of my boyfriends or my ex-husband ever complained about my hair. Until now.

My new boyfriend likes shorter hair. We had quite a discussion about it. A lot of men like short hair, a lot of women do to. Eric, my boyfriend, likes it really, really short. A pixie, or severe bob, and the like. I argue that if you want to fuck a guy, go ahead, just don't expect me to be one.

We dropped the subject, agreeing to disagree, and haven't talked about it for many months. He still plays with my hair when being affectionate, and I am happy to let him.

This night, we are on our way to have drinks with one of his friends, whom I had never met. We don't see him in the lot of the bar when we drive in, so we go into the bar to wait. We order a couple drinks and chat, expecting him to come along shortly. After 15 minutes of waiting, Eric gives him a call.

"Hey, Andy, where are you? Oh. Well, do you want us to stay here and wait? No, I think that's a great idea. We'll head over there now. See you shortly."

Eric hangs up and tells me that Andy had a last minute commitment and was now free and at home. Did we want to head to his place.

"Is he close?"

"About 20 minutes."

"Okay."

We get back in the car and Eric goes a back way to avoid traffic. I have never ventured into this part of town and enjoy looking out the window at the stores and pretty houses. I'm not paying attention to where Eric was driving, so soon I didn't know where we were.

Eric pulls into the driveway of a big Victorian house, perfect for a scary movie. We go up the steps and Eric rings the doorbell. You could hear the chiming from the outside. Andy opens the door and greets us. He's tall, decent looking, perhaps mid-40s. We have a light dinner in the dining room while Andy tells us about the house and how he's restored it over the years.

"I swear I have a ghost living with me. I hear the strangest noises coming from the basement."

"Have you looked into the history of the house?"

"I've got a genealogist looking into it but so far, no murders or deaths."

We finish our dinner and take our wine into the living room. It's not long before Andy gives us a tour of the house. I'm excited to see it. We go upstairs and he shows us large, gorgeous bedrooms, a sitting room, and of course, bathrooms, three to be exact. Back downstairs to show us the kitchen, big enough to create a banquet, and the sunroom.

"Can we see the basement where the ghost is?"

I ask. I didn't see the look that passes between Eric and Andy.

"Sure, follow me. Be careful, the stairs are uneven. There are several rooms down here, mostly storage."

We reach the bottom and he directs us to a carved wooden door.

"This is my pride and joy."

He opens the door and we walk in. There are no lights in here until Andy turns them on. When my eyes adjust, I'm standing in a Victorian barbershop.

"There are nights I swear I hear laughter and buzzing sounds down here, but when I come down, no one is here. Sometimes I hear sounds in the storage room next to this room, but still, no one."

"Animals maybe?

"I suppose a mouse or two could be roaming around, but no, these are man-made sounds."

There are two waiting chairs against the wall, and the men sit before I can reach one. I'm left with the barber chair.

"Go ahead, sit in it, check it out, it's real leather. I love the metal scroll work. I had the chair refurbished to its original state."

I smooth my hand over the leather seat before sitting. I lean forward to look at the scroll work on the footrest and don't notice that the guys are now standing beside me.

"It's beautiful workmanship."

I'm startled when I feel my arms being tied to the chair.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Eric speaks sternly, looking directly into my eyes.

"Andy is going to cut your hair the way I want it cut. Short. Very, very short."

"No! You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh yes I would. You thought you won that argument, but I had plans for you."

"No, Eric! Don't do this to me! Please!"

"Pleading won't get you out of this so get used to it."

"No, I won't. I don't want this. Stop it!"

"Don't make me gag you, I will you know."

"Please, Eric. I'll do anything else you want."

"You will do this and now."

Eric puts balled up cloth in my mouth to stop my pleading. Since only my arms are tied, I start kicking my legs, trying to kick someone, anyone, but Eric ties my legs too, and asks

"Andy, will you tie her shoulders to the chair?"

"Yeah, I think we'd better." Andy takes a length of rope and ties my shoulders to the chair so I can't move. I'm completely helpless. My face is getting red with anger and I glare at the two of them.

"Okay, down to business."

Eric takes a seat by the wall, and Andy places a cape over me.

He picks up scissors and a comb.

"Eric, what would you like me to do?"

"Her behavior needs to be punished. A short pixie is in order."

Andy nods and begins combing and cutting my hair from shoulder to just below my ears. I close my eyes as my hair falls over my face. As more hair falls, tears fall from my eyes. This just can't be happening, not this way!

When my hair is short enough, Andy puts away the scissors and picks up large clippers. He uses the clipper and comb to shear away hair on one side, from temple to behind the ear. This is the part I've been dreading. My hair is sparse with age. I will be ugly. One side is done and he moves to the other side. The clippers take away my femininity. With both sides done, Andy shaves the hair from my neck. I shake my head but his hand holds me still. I'm forced to let him take the rest of my hair off. I'm angry and I'm hurt. I will never forgive Eric for this. The clippers slide up my neck and with every pass, I cry harder. I don't want this! Andy cleans up the top hair, and then is done. He brushes away the hair, and turns me towards Eric.

"What do you think?"

Eric stands up and comes over to the chair. He walks all around the chair, checking out the cut.

"Very good. Just what I had in mind."

Andy is at the counter and places a clipper by the end of the chair, and one near the top.

"Look at me, not him."

I turn my head to look at Eric.

"Your punishment is not over yet."

I don't hear Andy leave the room because I'm focused on the fact that Eric is unzipping his pants and taking them and his briefs off. Sex? Now? He straddles the footrest and picks up the lower part of my skirt. I look down at his hands.

"Look at me. Look me in the eyes and don't take your eyes off me."

He slowly slides his hands up the top of my thighs and down the inside, then up the inside, pausing at my pussy. He then moves my skirt up to my waist and shoves the underside under my butt. He grabs my undies and rips them to get them off. I'm now exposed from the waist down. I close my eyes for just a second and swallow hard, but quickly open them. Eric now has clippers in his hand and sits on my legs and shaves my pussy. I don't want this, but the vibrations feel good. The buzzing stimulates my frayed nerves and I get wet. As I don't have much down there anymore, it doesn't take long to do, and Eric shuts off the clippers.

"Oh, babe, I can see that you like that. Your pussy is dripping."

He lies down, straddling my legs and goes down on me. He licks and sucks and fingers me until my body responds and orgasms despite my hatred for him. He continues to eat me, while squeezing my breasts through my blouse. When he squeezes my tits, I cum again.

"Oh eating you is so much fun now."

I glare at him, wishing the daggers were real.

He gets up and as he goes toward the head of the chair, he says,

"I'm going to unt ..."

He never finishes the sentence. He runs his hands over my shaven head.

"Oh babe"

he moans.

"It's so cute, but not short enough."

Not short enough? Is he crazy? I hear clippers and my head is pushed so far down my chin is on my chest. The clippers dig into the bottom of my neck and he shaves upward, going over what Andy had done. I feel the blade on my skin. I yell behind the gag. He shaves my neck a few more times, then shuts off the clippers.

"That's better, a buzz cut."

He takes the cape off and shakes it. He first unties my shoulders, then my legs. He unties my left arm, then the right. Before I can get out of the chair, he has his arms around me, pulls me out and turns and bends me over the arm of the chair. His cock slams into my pussy and he fucks me from behind. His hands are on my head, running over my shaved neck and short hair.

"You are so fuckin' hot shaved like this."

I catch sight of my head in the mirror. No! I look like a butch! My eyes tear up and I cry again. With every thrust of his cock, with every touch on my neck, I cry harder, until I'm sobbing. His hands move to my breasts and knead them, and roll my nipples. I hate myself, I hate my body, for it is responding to his ministrations.

My sobs start to become moans, muffled by the gag. The sex feels good but I don't think I'll cum. I feel a finger on my clit, rubbing. He's trying to make me cum. It doesn't work. He gets frustrated. He cums and with his final thrusts, he shoves his longest finger up my ass.

"You will cum!"

A finger rubs my clit and I do cum. He lets me up while he pulls his briefs and pants up. I'm bruised and humiliated as I straighten myself out. Eric puts him arm around me.

"Wasn't that fantastic!"

"Hm," I refuse to talk to him then, and all the way home. All the way home, I was working on a plan that I will carry out the next day.

When we get home, Eric gets into bed and I go take a shower. I hear sex noises from the bedroom; he's watching porn. I come out of the shower dressed in my least sexy nightgown, a flannel granny. He's not in the room. I hear him on the phone in the kitchen. I go over to the TV to shut it off, but I see clippers go up a woman's neck and stop to look for a minute. The clippers go up her neck again. My pussy clenches, I'm turned on by this. The head is turned and the clippers go up one side, then the other side, and back to the neck. I feel the need to touch myself. I quickly shut the TV off and get into bed, wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

Eric comes into the room with a knowing look on his face and gets into bed. He shuts out the light out and reaches out for me. I roll away from him. Bad move. He gets up over me, rolls me on my stomach, hikes my hips up and fucks me doggie again, rubbing my shaved head. This time I don't get excited at all, and he doesn't care. We go to sleep, not saying anything to each other.

The next day, after he goes to work, I pack all his things, clothes, trophies, porn mags, DVDs, everything, and I put them out in the driveway. The hardware store sends someone to change the locks on every door and the garage. I leave a note for him that it is completely, totally over and if he comes around ever, I'll call the cops. I go visit a friend for the night. The next day, his things are gone, and I never hear from him again. And I'm growing out my hair.