I was born to a dissociated couple, which gradually grew to become a set of divorced parents as time past. I have always resided in Northen Virginia though, the state they chose to settle down in almost a decade ago, when their love was still blooming and on fire. This may be the place my parents had decided to split, but it was where I grew up. I had no reason to leave. Being the product of separated parents will always have a certain impact on the child, and one could safely say I was no different. While kids of my age during middle school enjoyed their childhood times, I was busy becoming an adult, having to deal with arguments every other day over meagre issues, usually over me. After all, with separation, I was the only bridge left between them. Obviously, I grew up and matured very swiftly, in dire hopes of resolving the troubled times that followed even after my parents’ separation. Many years ensued as time quickly past, and before long, I was already in my mid twenties, approaching the climax of my adulthood.
My parents weren’t all bad though. Well at least, not totally. There is one benefit from being their child, probably the only one, and that is their affluence. They were always one of the richest individuals residing in the district we lived in. My childhood may have been constantly rocked by dreaded scenes of unrest at home, but money was certainly an issue. What was an issue, was that I had been inevitably categorised as one without much talent in mainstream education, and hence no prospect in the white collar world. I quickly realised that, trying to correct that would only be a futile attempt. With that in mind, at the age of sixteen, I decidedly dropped out of high school, switching to pursue hairdressing instead, after discovering that I had a certain knack and love for the trade.
In an effort to make up for the past, or at least that was what I thought, my now-separated parents jointly funded my first private business entity, which was a full-fledged hair salon located downtown. It was a small shop space no doubt, but I certainly did not mind. After all, small was not all that bad, since it did not require much furnishing. There was sufficient space for me to setup two haircutting stations, along with a simple front desk and a segregated hair washing area. Small also means that I simply needed to employ two assistants that would help me out with daily chores and chemical treatments. It was a modest business, but the privacy offered by the careful shop design and meticulous service quickly won the hearts of the local townsfolk, in particular those that had to don hijabs or other covered headdresses for their daily lives. As it is a two-seater salon, they were able to comfortably unveil their hijab to get their haircuts or treatments in full privacy at most times. It was a win-win since I could simply offer these sort of customers appointment timeslots and allow them to book down the entire space, in case they felt uncomfortable with revealing their precious locks to strangers.
One of my regular clients, Mariana, was born in a very religious family. However, for certain unknown reasons, she seemingly grew to become an Atheist, or perhaps simply a non-believer. I certainly took no issue with it, since her faith was of no immediate impact to me. However, Mariana’s lack of belief became an issue for her parents, whom were frustrated by Mariana’s repeated refusal to don their religious headdress. Mariana on the other hand, did not want to do so as she did not share the belief her parents pledged their faith to.
Her parents however, were one of the most influential families that had connections both politically and commercially. They were a pair of individuals that were well-respected in the city, and certainly should not be trifled with. Their respect for the religion they endear treads as far as the amount of power they wield in the city, and they have been continuously annoyed by Mariana’s ignorance when it came to the necessity of her following in their religion. The pair was convinced that if Mariana would not obey, they would eventually bite the bullet and use harsher methods to change her mind.
With African roots, Mariana had a full head of wiry, curly hair that she carefully styled as an afro. She would regularly drop by my hair salon monthly to get the afro trimmed up, sometimes getting a blowout when she felt like going slick straight for a day or two. That was no different for today, as she called a day earlier to book a timeslot for a trim and blowout. On the other hand, something drastic and unexpected was about to unfold for Mariana.
Upon knowing that Mariana was scheduled for a trim and blowout at my hair salon, her parents had discreetly stepped in and requested for a favour, even promising a payment in the near future. I was utterly shocked by their request, and had to consider carefully before agreeing, because what was planned technically could not be considered legal. However, in the fear that refusal of their request would offend them and damage my chances of keeping my business long-lasting, I ultimately accepted their request and took on the task, albeit reluctantly.
It was just past one in the afternoon, when the sun was still blazing bright, that Mariana stepped into the hair salon. Knowing that she will be arriving around then from the appointment made, I had decided to reject any potential business from any walk-in customers , and simply waited by the front desk for her arrival. I gestured her towards one of the stations upon her arrival, while one of my assistants assisted Mariana to change into one of the beige silk gowns we offer our clients to change into while we render our services. On the other hand, the other assistant passed me one of the glossy ivory-coloured capes that we used. These capes were custom ordered to be larger in size and feel smooth to touch. The enlarged size was to accommodate the slightly larger frames of the clients I get, and the silky feel was to ensure my clients remained comfortable. The glossy colour also gives off a sense of elegance. Ironic as it may be, what was coming for Mariana was nowhere as elegant.
As per usual procedure, after Mariana took a seat, I proceeded to the humongous-sized cape over Mariana, covering her figure in its entirety, fastening it snuggly by the back of her neck. Judging by her behaviour, she seemed to have completely no idea what was coming. It further reinforces the fact that her parents wanted this ensuing episode to have a dramatic impact.
“Just a trim and blowout please, Jane,” Mariana spoke, as she fiddled slightly with the cape that was already covering her to make herself more comfortable in the seat. Dear oh dear, how was I going to explain myself after what was going to happen to Mariana?
In an effort to first mask the ultimate motive, I calmly restrained my nerves and checked through her wiry curls as per usual. As I did so, I casually commented that her afro looks damaged and dried out, questioning if she had been straightening or dyeing it by herself frequently, but that was obviously not the case. She looked indifferent to my remarks, brushing them aside, but I went on about the unhealthy condition of her curls. When it seemed that she would not surrender on her own will, it escalated quickly to having to take more drastic measures.
“Ladies, kindly assist our customer by the seat please,” vaguely hinting for my assistants to step in and secure Mariana in place. They had been briefed beforehand on what was about to take place, and being followers of the same faith as Mariana’s parents, they had no objection of the plan that was unfolding. They quickly stepped up to the sides of Mariana while she was all caped up and in seat. They swiftly reached beneath the cape, and forcefully pressed Mariana’s arms tightly to the armrests of the chair. With rope in hand, I tied both of her arms to each of the armrests respectively. Mariana was totally shocked upon sight of what we were doing, and tried to fight back, but was mostly futile as my assistants kept her steadily in place while I secured her to the chair, ensuring that she had no chance of escaping from what was coming for her.
“Jane, what are you doing? Let me go right now, I am one of your regular customers for god’s sake!” Mariana exclaimed. “God? But there is no god in your life Mariana, or is there? You though, might be wishing there is one very soon,” I replied Mariana blankly, holding in my nerves as much as possible. She was now kicking frantically with her arms fastened and unable to move, and I thought that since it had come to this extent, might as well go all the way. I took more rope, and tied her legs to the foot support as well, rendering Mariana totally zero control of what was going to happen to her. Mariana was lost for words by now, and did not know what she could possibly do. She had no other options but to accept the current scenario. The curtains were already drawn shut by now, with the salon supposedly closed an hour for lunch. It would take hours before anyone would even suspect or realise the plight Mariana was currently set in, giving us enough time to deal the punishment her parents had wanted us to prepare for her.
The assistants had retreated to the back by now, observing the inevitable fate of Mariana. To totally eradicate any signs of opposition or retaliation, I decided to tape her mouth, masking any vocal rebuttal from her. I reached for a pair of cordless hair clippers from the servicing tray, and unhooked the #2 guard that I usually kept attached on to use for my male customers. The clippers were now without any guards attached, meaning that its blades will unforgivingly shave hair off down to the scalp.
The hair clippers turned on with a thud, and Mariana’s eyes widened upon the sight and sound of it in motion. She murmurs through the tape on her mouth, but could not voice out any clear words to describe her feelings. I grabbed her firmly by her afro, and pulled backwards with some effort to sit her straight, countering her reluctance to obey. Tears almost seamed from her eyes, but I could not care any further. I had verbally promised her parents beforehand, that this was necessary and would be a done deal. With her head tilted back and in place, I placed the oscillating blades of the hair clippers just before Mariana’s front hair line, and ruthlessly pushed backwards all the way towards the crown. The clipper blades changed tunes as it quickly sliced through Mariana’s wiry locks, sending them tumbling to settle on the cold salon floor. I repeated the process, making more passes through Mariana’s locks with the clippers, sending more of her bushy hair to the floor, now laying lifelessly. What was left in the path of the hair clippers, was Mariana’s scalp, pale and free of hair for the first time in her life.
Before long, Mariana’s head was clean of her afro, with all of it now settled lifeless on the floor. I gathered them together into a neat pile, before lifting as much as I could of them in one hand. With her shaven afro in hand, I gestured with it in front of Mariana, reprimanding her for her refusal to conform to her parents’ wishes. “This, is the consequence you have subjected yourself to for refusing to obey your parents’ will,” I preached to Mariana, before cold-heartedly tossing the pile back onto the floor.
But that was not all. Her parents had planned something bigger, considering the fact that Mariana was such a stubborn daughter, and that it would take something more to convince her of reality. I tilted the chair in an anti-clockwise direction, making Mariana now face towards the left instead of the mirror. Her eyes were already drenched with tears from having to witness me shave off her afro, but more was coming. I lifted the haircutting cape by the front, and let it rest on top of the armrests, so that the lower half of Mariana’s body was revealed. Unsurprisingly, she wore revealing clothes, particularly a floral dress cut several inches above the knees, which opposed the values of her parents’ religion.
I pulled out the haircutting scissors from my pouch, and snipped the dress apart by the centre as far up as the cape reveals. Mariana’s panties are now revealed, and she seemed more appalled now by what was coming next. I slit apart her panties by the sides, before pulling them off her forcefully and tossing it onto the vacant chair beside the one Mariana was secured to. With the panties now gone, her pubic area was now uncovered. Her pubic hair was in full bloom, a generous garden of pubes that were wiry and curly, similar to the texture of her now-shaved afro. I was disgruntled by the fact that my long-time client did not even bother to take care of her pubic area, which was essential in a basic hygiene routine.
To help her get started, the hair clippers were put to use again. I gave the blades a few good swipes with a brush, removing any remnants from the previous shaving of Mariana’s afro. The clippers came alive again with a loud thud, ready to mow away. Without hesitation, I mowed away at Mariana’s pubes, letting the clippers eat away at the pubic hair as I ran it around her pubic area. The sheared pubes gathered quickly by the small gap between Mariana’s pelvis and the chair, but I let it gather on purpose to dramatise the punishment she was receiving. With a few more passes using the clippers, Mariana’s pubic area was shaved down to super short stubble, almost invisible to the naked eye. With one good swipe, I grabbed all of the pubic hair that had piled up in one hand, and tossed them away to the floor right in the face of Mariana. She had already ran out of tears and simply given in, subjecting herself to any punishment I was going to deal.
For the highlight of the session, I pulled out a straight razor, but removed the guard that was usually put in place to prevent cuts during use. Mariana deserved to know the full extent of her mistake and what consequences will she face if she decide to make such an error again. Using one hand, I stretched the skin around her labia tightly to keep it flat, before using the straight razor to scrap off the remaining stubble. Each drag of the razor removed a significant amount of stubble, gradually revealing a clean vagina area with no hair at all. I applied more force to ensure every single strand or stubble is shaved off, sometimes cutting Mariana’s labia in the process. But I could not care less. Before long, the entire pubic area was completely free of hair, with some cuts around slightly bleeding, but nothing serious. I pulled back down her slit dress to bring Mariana’s punishment to an end.
As I loosened the ropes securing Mariana in place, she was already partially unconscious, too shocked by my disposure of such dramatic punishment, and confusion as to why I did so. It was all in the name of survival. Should I offend her parents, who knows what could happen to me and my business in the near future?
Upon loosening her, I signalled for the assistants to step in and lift Mariana off the seat. By the backdoor of the salon, a black limousine was already parked in place, ready to transport the victim to her next stop. I opened the door of the vehicle, and the assistants put Mariana in before closing the door. The vehicle took off, concluding the entire process, and I could finally heave a sigh of relief at completing this tedious task.
My parents weren’t all bad though. Well at least, not totally. There is one benefit from being their child, probably the only one, and that is their affluence. They were always one of the richest individuals residing in the district we lived in. My childhood may have been constantly rocked by dreaded scenes of unrest at home, but money was certainly an issue. What was an issue, was that I had been inevitably categorised as one without much talent in mainstream education, and hence no prospect in the white collar world. I quickly realised that, trying to correct that would only be a futile attempt. With that in mind, at the age of sixteen, I decidedly dropped out of high school, switching to pursue hairdressing instead, after discovering that I had a certain knack and love for the trade.
In an effort to make up for the past, or at least that was what I thought, my now-separated parents jointly funded my first private business entity, which was a full-fledged hair salon located downtown. It was a small shop space no doubt, but I certainly did not mind. After all, small was not all that bad, since it did not require much furnishing. There was sufficient space for me to setup two haircutting stations, along with a simple front desk and a segregated hair washing area. Small also means that I simply needed to employ two assistants that would help me out with daily chores and chemical treatments. It was a modest business, but the privacy offered by the careful shop design and meticulous service quickly won the hearts of the local townsfolk, in particular those that had to don hijabs or other covered headdresses for their daily lives. As it is a two-seater salon, they were able to comfortably unveil their hijab to get their haircuts or treatments in full privacy at most times. It was a win-win since I could simply offer these sort of customers appointment timeslots and allow them to book down the entire space, in case they felt uncomfortable with revealing their precious locks to strangers.
One of my regular clients, Mariana, was born in a very religious family. However, for certain unknown reasons, she seemingly grew to become an Atheist, or perhaps simply a non-believer. I certainly took no issue with it, since her faith was of no immediate impact to me. However, Mariana’s lack of belief became an issue for her parents, whom were frustrated by Mariana’s repeated refusal to don their religious headdress. Mariana on the other hand, did not want to do so as she did not share the belief her parents pledged their faith to.
Her parents however, were one of the most influential families that had connections both politically and commercially. They were a pair of individuals that were well-respected in the city, and certainly should not be trifled with. Their respect for the religion they endear treads as far as the amount of power they wield in the city, and they have been continuously annoyed by Mariana’s ignorance when it came to the necessity of her following in their religion. The pair was convinced that if Mariana would not obey, they would eventually bite the bullet and use harsher methods to change her mind.
With African roots, Mariana had a full head of wiry, curly hair that she carefully styled as an afro. She would regularly drop by my hair salon monthly to get the afro trimmed up, sometimes getting a blowout when she felt like going slick straight for a day or two. That was no different for today, as she called a day earlier to book a timeslot for a trim and blowout. On the other hand, something drastic and unexpected was about to unfold for Mariana.
Upon knowing that Mariana was scheduled for a trim and blowout at my hair salon, her parents had discreetly stepped in and requested for a favour, even promising a payment in the near future. I was utterly shocked by their request, and had to consider carefully before agreeing, because what was planned technically could not be considered legal. However, in the fear that refusal of their request would offend them and damage my chances of keeping my business long-lasting, I ultimately accepted their request and took on the task, albeit reluctantly.
It was just past one in the afternoon, when the sun was still blazing bright, that Mariana stepped into the hair salon. Knowing that she will be arriving around then from the appointment made, I had decided to reject any potential business from any walk-in customers , and simply waited by the front desk for her arrival. I gestured her towards one of the stations upon her arrival, while one of my assistants assisted Mariana to change into one of the beige silk gowns we offer our clients to change into while we render our services. On the other hand, the other assistant passed me one of the glossy ivory-coloured capes that we used. These capes were custom ordered to be larger in size and feel smooth to touch. The enlarged size was to accommodate the slightly larger frames of the clients I get, and the silky feel was to ensure my clients remained comfortable. The glossy colour also gives off a sense of elegance. Ironic as it may be, what was coming for Mariana was nowhere as elegant.
As per usual procedure, after Mariana took a seat, I proceeded to the humongous-sized cape over Mariana, covering her figure in its entirety, fastening it snuggly by the back of her neck. Judging by her behaviour, she seemed to have completely no idea what was coming. It further reinforces the fact that her parents wanted this ensuing episode to have a dramatic impact.
“Just a trim and blowout please, Jane,” Mariana spoke, as she fiddled slightly with the cape that was already covering her to make herself more comfortable in the seat. Dear oh dear, how was I going to explain myself after what was going to happen to Mariana?
In an effort to first mask the ultimate motive, I calmly restrained my nerves and checked through her wiry curls as per usual. As I did so, I casually commented that her afro looks damaged and dried out, questioning if she had been straightening or dyeing it by herself frequently, but that was obviously not the case. She looked indifferent to my remarks, brushing them aside, but I went on about the unhealthy condition of her curls. When it seemed that she would not surrender on her own will, it escalated quickly to having to take more drastic measures.
“Ladies, kindly assist our customer by the seat please,” vaguely hinting for my assistants to step in and secure Mariana in place. They had been briefed beforehand on what was about to take place, and being followers of the same faith as Mariana’s parents, they had no objection of the plan that was unfolding. They quickly stepped up to the sides of Mariana while she was all caped up and in seat. They swiftly reached beneath the cape, and forcefully pressed Mariana’s arms tightly to the armrests of the chair. With rope in hand, I tied both of her arms to each of the armrests respectively. Mariana was totally shocked upon sight of what we were doing, and tried to fight back, but was mostly futile as my assistants kept her steadily in place while I secured her to the chair, ensuring that she had no chance of escaping from what was coming for her.
“Jane, what are you doing? Let me go right now, I am one of your regular customers for god’s sake!” Mariana exclaimed. “God? But there is no god in your life Mariana, or is there? You though, might be wishing there is one very soon,” I replied Mariana blankly, holding in my nerves as much as possible. She was now kicking frantically with her arms fastened and unable to move, and I thought that since it had come to this extent, might as well go all the way. I took more rope, and tied her legs to the foot support as well, rendering Mariana totally zero control of what was going to happen to her. Mariana was lost for words by now, and did not know what she could possibly do. She had no other options but to accept the current scenario. The curtains were already drawn shut by now, with the salon supposedly closed an hour for lunch. It would take hours before anyone would even suspect or realise the plight Mariana was currently set in, giving us enough time to deal the punishment her parents had wanted us to prepare for her.
The assistants had retreated to the back by now, observing the inevitable fate of Mariana. To totally eradicate any signs of opposition or retaliation, I decided to tape her mouth, masking any vocal rebuttal from her. I reached for a pair of cordless hair clippers from the servicing tray, and unhooked the #2 guard that I usually kept attached on to use for my male customers. The clippers were now without any guards attached, meaning that its blades will unforgivingly shave hair off down to the scalp.
The hair clippers turned on with a thud, and Mariana’s eyes widened upon the sight and sound of it in motion. She murmurs through the tape on her mouth, but could not voice out any clear words to describe her feelings. I grabbed her firmly by her afro, and pulled backwards with some effort to sit her straight, countering her reluctance to obey. Tears almost seamed from her eyes, but I could not care any further. I had verbally promised her parents beforehand, that this was necessary and would be a done deal. With her head tilted back and in place, I placed the oscillating blades of the hair clippers just before Mariana’s front hair line, and ruthlessly pushed backwards all the way towards the crown. The clipper blades changed tunes as it quickly sliced through Mariana’s wiry locks, sending them tumbling to settle on the cold salon floor. I repeated the process, making more passes through Mariana’s locks with the clippers, sending more of her bushy hair to the floor, now laying lifelessly. What was left in the path of the hair clippers, was Mariana’s scalp, pale and free of hair for the first time in her life.
Before long, Mariana’s head was clean of her afro, with all of it now settled lifeless on the floor. I gathered them together into a neat pile, before lifting as much as I could of them in one hand. With her shaven afro in hand, I gestured with it in front of Mariana, reprimanding her for her refusal to conform to her parents’ wishes. “This, is the consequence you have subjected yourself to for refusing to obey your parents’ will,” I preached to Mariana, before cold-heartedly tossing the pile back onto the floor.
But that was not all. Her parents had planned something bigger, considering the fact that Mariana was such a stubborn daughter, and that it would take something more to convince her of reality. I tilted the chair in an anti-clockwise direction, making Mariana now face towards the left instead of the mirror. Her eyes were already drenched with tears from having to witness me shave off her afro, but more was coming. I lifted the haircutting cape by the front, and let it rest on top of the armrests, so that the lower half of Mariana’s body was revealed. Unsurprisingly, she wore revealing clothes, particularly a floral dress cut several inches above the knees, which opposed the values of her parents’ religion.
I pulled out the haircutting scissors from my pouch, and snipped the dress apart by the centre as far up as the cape reveals. Mariana’s panties are now revealed, and she seemed more appalled now by what was coming next. I slit apart her panties by the sides, before pulling them off her forcefully and tossing it onto the vacant chair beside the one Mariana was secured to. With the panties now gone, her pubic area was now uncovered. Her pubic hair was in full bloom, a generous garden of pubes that were wiry and curly, similar to the texture of her now-shaved afro. I was disgruntled by the fact that my long-time client did not even bother to take care of her pubic area, which was essential in a basic hygiene routine.
To help her get started, the hair clippers were put to use again. I gave the blades a few good swipes with a brush, removing any remnants from the previous shaving of Mariana’s afro. The clippers came alive again with a loud thud, ready to mow away. Without hesitation, I mowed away at Mariana’s pubes, letting the clippers eat away at the pubic hair as I ran it around her pubic area. The sheared pubes gathered quickly by the small gap between Mariana’s pelvis and the chair, but I let it gather on purpose to dramatise the punishment she was receiving. With a few more passes using the clippers, Mariana’s pubic area was shaved down to super short stubble, almost invisible to the naked eye. With one good swipe, I grabbed all of the pubic hair that had piled up in one hand, and tossed them away to the floor right in the face of Mariana. She had already ran out of tears and simply given in, subjecting herself to any punishment I was going to deal.
For the highlight of the session, I pulled out a straight razor, but removed the guard that was usually put in place to prevent cuts during use. Mariana deserved to know the full extent of her mistake and what consequences will she face if she decide to make such an error again. Using one hand, I stretched the skin around her labia tightly to keep it flat, before using the straight razor to scrap off the remaining stubble. Each drag of the razor removed a significant amount of stubble, gradually revealing a clean vagina area with no hair at all. I applied more force to ensure every single strand or stubble is shaved off, sometimes cutting Mariana’s labia in the process. But I could not care less. Before long, the entire pubic area was completely free of hair, with some cuts around slightly bleeding, but nothing serious. I pulled back down her slit dress to bring Mariana’s punishment to an end.
As I loosened the ropes securing Mariana in place, she was already partially unconscious, too shocked by my disposure of such dramatic punishment, and confusion as to why I did so. It was all in the name of survival. Should I offend her parents, who knows what could happen to me and my business in the near future?
Upon loosening her, I signalled for the assistants to step in and lift Mariana off the seat. By the backdoor of the salon, a black limousine was already parked in place, ready to transport the victim to her next stop. I opened the door of the vehicle, and the assistants put Mariana in before closing the door. The vehicle took off, concluding the entire process, and I could finally heave a sigh of relief at completing this tedious task.
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