Styled by Master

Photo from Loveherhair

In the 3 years since she had been seeing Mark she was aware that their relationship may not have been as it seemed. At first she had felt in control, she paid him to cut and style her hair, meet her requirements. This was to incrementally shorten her hair while maintaining a ‘feminine’ style (her words). As she told him, an older woman looks and feels better that way. He agreed with her that this was the best way to achieve that end result. Unless, as he joked, you were prepared for the shears on day one.

Their meetings which took place every 6 weeks were a little more frequent than she would have preferred. But since his schedule was even more busy than hers she booked ahead and stuck to the appointments.   Master seemed happy with her progress, she knew his preference was a closely cropped, almost bald style. But she knew what He wanted from her. She wanted to please him but needed to get there in easy stages. Master in turn preferred a slave who complied at her own volition.

Mark wasn’t the kind of stylist that she would have chosen. She adored him as a person, for his outgoing nature and personality but worried about his approach. He loved to flirt with her and at the same time to offer fantastic celebrity gossip. But all of the time he pushed her towards a shorter hair cut. It was almost as if Master was giving him instructions.

At the same time this seemed unlikely, what top end stylist would push for an ever shorter cut so that eventually his skills would become redundant?

For each appointment she negotiated an outcome  which took her closer to Master’s goal and each time Mark pushed her further. He would accidentally cut it shorter at the back, at the sides or on top. Then one day he took clippers to the left side of her head without discussion.

Exclaiming how wonderful it looked he asked what he should do next. Running her fingers over what remained of her hair, she had to agree it looked and felt great. She considered whether to even things out of to keep her hair long on the other side. She knew that was what many people did; short on one side while long on the other.

Symmetry was something she loved, taking a deep breath she instructed Mark to shave the right side. The hair was then short on both sides, but still held the layers she treasured on top.

Clarity of her situation suddenly surfaced, and she looked Mark in the eye, seeing his image reflected in the mirror. He cupped his hands around her head and stroked the stubble on each side of her head.

“Master asked you to do this” she stated with sudden clarity.

Observing her in the mirror, he nodded briefly.

“Then you should complete the task”  she said. His nod was much more pronounced. He picked up his scissors and began to cut. Within minutes he had removed the remaining hair to little more than stubble.

At the cash desk she paid for today’s cut and booked her next appointment for 6 weeks time. “I think next time will be a number 2, all over” she told him clearly.

“Maybe even a number 1?” he asked.

“Maybe, if that is what Master wishes” she agreed.

As she pulled her coat on and walked out into the street she stroked her head, on one hand missing the hair that had gone, but also loving the feel of the stubble. They both knew that the next visit in 6 weeks time would be the start of a new chapter. One of maintenance but also one where both could fulfil their Master’s requirements.

In this element of their slavery at least.

The mirror

He decided that he wanted me to stay fully clothed. So skirt hitched up, knickers off, I knelt on the bed.

His hands moved over me, feeling my clit once again, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.

“Sit on my face” he instructed. Of course, I gladly complied. He has the most amazing tongue. Searching, feeling and teasing. At the same time his hands on my nipples. Squeezing, twisting. Of course I came. I asked, he permitted it; we both loved it.

On my side he plunged his cock into me.

I think that’s when we noticed the mirror. Full length, between the bathroom and the vanity unit. I looked like some kind of wanton slut, enjoying her man’s cock. He saw just that, probably because that was exactly what was happening.

He loved it. For once he could see the expression on my face. Could see how much I was loving having his cock inside me.

It wasn’t long before I was on my hands and knees facing the mirror and his cock was somewhere else. He loves to own my arse. and seeing my face as he did so was something new, special and a massive turn on for us both.

Later there was time to cuddle up together, kiss and caress. Time for a film and then a meal in a really good indian restaurant.

In the morning after he had already left to get home in time for work, I dried myself in front of that mirror after my shower. I definitely smiled at the wonderful memory.

His slut

She wore a tight grey skirt, with a cream top. Heels.

Every bit the business woman?

Well a cream top with black bra?

Seamed stockings?

As they entered the bar, she looked around and saw people in casual dress. It was Sunday, so people were out for lunch, socialising, chatting.

He observed that men looked at her legs, observed the heels, skirt, blouse, bra. He loved it – his slut watched by other men in this way.

As they sat with their drinks, he told her to open her legs for him. Of course she complied.

She tried to chat normally, he smiled at the idea that they were observed in this way. Last time they had sat in this bar, she had felt conspicuous by her dress and demeanour. This time she ignored any embarrassment, proud to be HIS slut.

They finished their drinks, and headed for their room. Outside the door, he paused and ran his hand up her stockinged leg, inside her panties. she gasped as his fingers stroked her wet pussy, her clit. Taking his hand away, he undid the zip on his trousers, releasing his large, hard cock. She was on her knees before he told her to suck.

Gratefully she took him into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the sounds in the pub area below. Instead she concentrated on the feel of him, the taste and smell. She was pleased to have her mouth filled with him at last.

Then as she got to her feet, he used the key card to admit them to the privacy of their room.

He had loved that she had looked every bit his slut in the bar and that she had behaved like one outside the room. Now, she would be His slut in the room. They both knew what would happen next…….