u/Otherwise-Egg9584

Hi everyone! This is a fictional story about a woman getting a pixie cut for the first time with a partner who shares her fetish. This type of scenario is definitely a fantasy of mine, and I hope you enjoy it as well. Please let me know what you think!

As I sat in my silky pajamas, sleepiness slowly beginning to tempt me, I wondered what tomorrow would be like. As the TV softly played from across the room and as he gently brushed through my hair, I thought about what this would feel like tomorrow. What would our nightly ritual of him brushing my hair before bed feel like when so much of that hair was gone?

I was sure it would still be relaxing. It always was. I would feel safe and at peace like I usually did. But it would be distinctly different, surely.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked, continuing to run the brush through my hair.

“I’m wondering what this will feel like tomorrow. What it will feel like for you to brush my hair when it’s so much shorter.”

“Ahh I thought you might be wondering about that,” he replied, “Well I will still take my time to be thorough and it will continue to be my priority to make you feel relaxed and calm and cared for. Just because there won’t be much hair left to brush doesn’t mean I won’t still love doing this for you just as much as I do now.”

I smiled to myself at his words, knowing them to be true. He was always a man of his word.

“Can we practice one more time?” I asked, feeling my cheeks warm at my own request.

“Of course we can,” he said, “Tell me, what are you going to tell your stylist tomorrow when she asks you what you want?”

I took in a deep breath and then replied, “I want to try something shorter this time. More of a pixie. Shorter in the back and longer in the front. I’d like it to be long enough to tuck behind my ears still, and I’d like the back to be cut short. I have some reference pictures I can show you of what I want.”

He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Very good girl,” he said followed by a kiss to the top of my head, “Now let’s get you to bed. Your appointment is first thing in the morning, after all.”

—————

I woke up the following morning alone in bed. Guided by the scent of freshly brewed coffee, I made my way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. There he stood, preparing my coffee for me just the way I liked it. Iced, a splash of creamer, no sugar. I took a seat at one of the tall bar stools against the countertop and smiled at him as he handed me my drink, complete with a kiss on my forehead.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Admittedly, nervous,” I said, realizing then that it was true. I tucked a loose bit of hair behind my ear and let my fingers linger on the ends, which just barely grazed my shoulders. The last time it had been cut, it had sat right at my jaw, the shortest haircut I’d ever had. Now that it had grown out, he’d told me it was time for more, and I had agreed.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” he said, “We’re making a big change today. I want you to remember that you can always change your mind. I also want you to remember that you and I do both want this.”

He was right. I did want it, even if just the thought of it filled my stomach with butterflies and made my cheeks flush.

“Now go get ready, we don’t want to be late now do we?”

I replied, “No sir, we don’t want to be late,” with a flirty smile before hopping up from my stool and going to the bathroom.

—————

I did all of the usual things. I brushed my teeth, I washed my face, I put on my makeup. I got dressed in an outfit I felt sexy and confident in, my favorite pair of jeans that accentuated my curvy hips just right and a form-fitting brown top with a small lace trim that showed off all of my favorite features. I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my bag. Then, I emerged from the bathroom.

I could see in his eyes the second he saw me and the way I looked all done up that he’d like to rip off the outfit I’d just put on and devote all of his effort to pleasing me for as long as he could possibly last. He looked almost… hungry. But we both knew that would make us late, and we both knew he’d never allow that to happen.

Instead, he led me to the passenger side of the car, opened the door for me, and made sure I was comfortably seated before hopping into the driver’s seat. He reached over and tucked my hair behind my ear and then slid his fingers through the back of my hair, hand resting on my nape and gently playing with the hair there.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his hand letting go of my hair, slowly drifting down the front of my body and eventually resting on my upper thigh, scratching light, slow circles.

“Yes,” I breathed, his light touch making me crave more. God we were both so horny already, I could tell.

He smiled at me softly. Without another word, he removed his hand from my thigh and backed out of the driveway.

—————

When we got to the salon, it wasn’t crowded. I knew I had the first appointment of the day, so this wasn’t surprising to me. He parked the car, got out, and opened my door for me. He led me to the salon door, hand resting on the small of my back.

It was a cute place. The salon was located right on the outskirts of downtown. It was an old house turned salon. Every time we came I liked to imagine what it was like when people still lived there and which room had been which. Since it was an old house, built before the open concept craze, it had several small rooms. Multiple stylists worked there, each having their own semi-private room. It was nice and private without being overly intimate.

He opened the salon door for me and led me inside. We sat together on one of the cushy couches in the waiting room. His fingers drew small circles on my back as he leaned closer to me and quietly said, “Show me the reference photos again.”

I blushed, and then pulled out my phone. I had screenshotted the reference photos yesterday, making sure they were right at the bottom of my camera roll and easily accessible. I turned my phone to him to show him.

“Mmmm, babygirl, this is going to be your hottest haircut yet,” he groaned in my ear.

“And my shortest,” I added with a smile, knowing what that would do to him.

“And your shortest. Fuck,” he said, losing his grip.

“Get yourself under control before she comes back here,” I teased.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a smirk.

We waited quietly and semi-calmly for a few more minutes, not wanting to get too worked up, but it wasn’t long before my stylist appeared in the doorway and called us back.

I felt a jolt of nerves run through me at her appearance and my heart beating in my chest as she led us back to her room.

When we arrived, he sat on the small bench to the side of the salon chair like he usually did, and I had a seat in the chair. My stylist, always chatty and bubbly, had been chatting away as we had walked down the hallway. Now that I was seated, however, she got straight to work.

Running her fingers through my hair and pushing it around she asked, “So, what are we thinking today?”

He had trained me well by that point. The words came easily, almost involuntarily. I hardly had to think about what I was saying at all, “Well I liked my haircut last time, but I want to try something shorter this time. A pixie type of style. I’d like it to be short in the back and longer in the front, at least long enough to tuck behind my ears. I have some reference pictures I can show you of what I want.”

I could see him give me a small nod out of the corner of my eye, and I could see the glee in my stylist’s face as I described the haircut to her. She herself sported a pixie cut and had always been happy to take me shorter and shorter.

“Oh how fun!” she exclaimed, “Yes please show me!”

I pulled out my phone and showed her the same photos I had shown him minutes before, the photos he picked out for me to show her.

“Oh yes, we can definitely do this,” she said approvingly. “We’ll take all this off,” she said, ruffling my hair in the back. “And this,” she said while grabbing the front, “will be taken up a good bit. Oh this is going to be so cute! Let’s go get you shampooed.”

Her enthusiasm to be cutting off so much of my hair turned me on more than she’d ever know, more than I’d ever want her to know. I got up from my seat and followed her to the shampoo room.

—————

As she washed my hair, she chatted away. I liked how talkative she was. Not having to respond too much or too often allowed me to more easily mask how I really felt about what was happening to me. Sometimes I wondered, did I seem to know too much about haircuts, more than the average person would? Did I know too many terms and techniques and tools? Did I seem too eager? Come too often?

Instead of overthinking, I focused on the sensations I was feeling. She was scratching circles all over my scalp with her fingers, moving from the front of my hairline all the way down to my neck. It felt incredible and relaxing, sending waves of pleasure through my head.

When she was finished, she wrapped a towel around my hair and led me back to the haircutting room. I made eye contact with him when I entered, blushing and looking away when I saw that hungry look on his face once again.

I sat down and my stylist wrapped a paper strip around my neck. That was a first for me. I had to put in effort to not squirm or gasp or show any sign of my surprise. The light pressure around my neck felt oddly nice.

She caped me up in a silky plum colored cape. She took the towel off my hair, combing it straight down while she talked about the most recent concert she’d been to.

I felt bad but I could only kind of pay attention. Most of my focus was on everything I felt and everything I saw and the intense experience getting a haircut always was.

Even though I couldn’t see him from where I was sitting, I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew they’d stay glued to me the whole time. I enjoyed that I was being watched.

My attention returned to her when I heard her say, “Alright, let’s get started with the cut!”

My hair had been sectioned off. The front was clipped forward, while the back hung loose.

“Chin all the way down for me,” she said, as she gently pushed my head down. Oh my god. This was actually happening. Even if I wanted to turn back, it would be quite awkward to suddenly change my mind this far in.

I felt a chunk of hair be combed back, and then heard a loud “Snip!” The first piece had been cut off. It felt like it had come from around the crown of my head. No going back now. A few more pieces were lobbed off before I felt the cold scissor blades against the back of my neck.

I tried not to stiffen. I had never felt the blades this high up before. They sat right at my hairline at the nape of my neck before cutting a straight line all the way across.

“Alright, we’ve gotten the bulk off in the back. I’m going to start adding some texture and taking it shorter now,” my stylist announced.

Although her words made me nervous, they turned me on so much. I enjoyed hearing her talk through the process, and I knew he did too.

She pulled something out of the drawer behind her. The texturizing razor sliced through my hair quickly and efficiently. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could imagine it and I could feel it. Chunks of hair flying off the back of my head, shorter and shorter layers being created. I felt it brush up against the hair around my nape, taking it shorter and shorter and shorter.

I could tell I was drenched. I was so turned on, it was almost uncomfortable. I felt needy and like I wanted to squirm and whine and pout until I was given the relief and pleasure I desperately needed. But I couldn’t. Instead, I sat quietly and obediently, nice and still. I wondered if he could tell how I was feeling. He surely knew, but I wondered if he could see just how desperate for relief and attention I felt.

My stylist was moving on to the front. She unclipped my hair and combed through it again. The scissors slid between a chunk of hair, resting about mid-ear.

Holy shit. Snip. Gone.

I couldn’t believe how short it was. Never, ever in my life had I had a haircut anywhere near this short. She continued to cut that side, mid-ear length, becoming slightly shorter closer to the back, angling up. She snipped in some layers, creating even shorter bits before moving on to the other side.

The other side was cut a little longer, closer to the bottom of my ear but still above the very bottom. The cut was slightly asymmetrical, something I hadn’t ever had before. She added some layers to this side as well and made a couple final snips here and there.

“Okay, let’s get you blow dried and then I’ll finish you off!” my stylist said enthusiastically. It turned me on even more seeing how much fun she was having cutting my hair so very short.

She finger combed some product through my hair and began blow drying it. It felt so light. Watching only some of it be long enough to whip around in the air made me realize how short it really was. Even the longest parts were, at most, maybe six inches long.

The more she dried, the more I could see the haircut take shape. It was short and voluminous and I couldn’t wait to feel it for myself.

Once my hair was dry, my stylist set the dryer aside and got back to work. She used the razor to add more texture overall. Then she pushed my head down once again.

With my head down, I looked up into the mirror and could see her pulling clippers from her drawer. I inhaled sharply, thankful that the music playing and her own chatter covered up the sound.

I watched as she plugged them in and snapped a guard onto them. It looked like maybe a #3. She held down my head by my crown, and the clippers roared to life.

As I tried to breathe steadily, I felt the clippers push up my nape. It felt impossibly slow. I had time to wonder about and fret over how high up she would go.

The gentle buzz felt nice, despite it making me nervous. When the clippers had made their first pass and were taken off my head, I estimated she had gone about three inches high with them.

She continued to buzz the back. It would be a longer buzz, like in the pictures I showed her, but a buzz regardless. I’d had an undercut before, but that could always be hidden. This couldn’t. That distinct difference thrilled me.

When she was finished with the clippers, she worked on blending the back a bit and making little snips here and there to perfect the cut.

She then took out a smaller pair of clippers, more like detail trimmers, and carefully outlined the natural shape of my nape, getting rid of any excess hairs at the bottom.

I began to grow restless. I wanted to explore my new haircut, to see it and feel it up close. I wanted him to explore it, and I wanted to be rewarded for what I’d allowed to happen to me.

I didn’t have to wait much longer before she said, “All done!” She handed me a hand mirror and said, “Now let me know if anything is too long, and I’ll correct it for you.”

She spun me slowly. I could begin to see one side and oh my god it was so short. She spun me a little more and I was shocked when I saw the back. I had never seen myself like this before. I felt so exposed and on display. There was no hair to hide behind. My neck was fully showing, as were my shoulders, my chin, my jaw, my earlobes, my face. None of these things could be covered with hair anymore. It was perfect.

I told her I loved it, and I really did. It would take some getting used to but I knew this was the right choice to make and that I wouldn’t regret it. She uncaped me and I loved how my new haircut looked on me. It felt so… right.

“Well what do you think?” she turned to ask him, “You’re awfully quite over there.”

He wouldn’t quite look at me. He was quieter, more subdued than he had been at the start of the day, and I knew why. We both did. If he looked too closely at me now, allowed himself to indulge in me, he’d lose control.

“It’s great,” he said. Oh god I could tell he was so nervous. I didn’t think she could.

He quickly got up to pay, and we left the salon.

—————

The drive home was somewhat quiet. We both knew the rules. He wasn’t allowed to touch me or my new haircut until we made it home. That’s how it had always been. I loved watching him, seeing how crazy it drove him, knowing how much effort he was putting in to controlling himself. He didn’t know it also took an extraordinary amount of self control on my part to not beg him to touch me right then and there. I craved it just as much as he did.

On the ride home, I kept having to tuck my hair behind my ears, my perpetual habit. I had asked for it to be cut long enough to tuck behind my ears still, and while it technically was, it wasn’t long enough to stay tucked back for more than a few seconds at a time. It kept slipping back forward, a nearly constant reminder of its shortness.

We quietly made it into the house. I entered the door first, turning back to see him locking it behind me. He turned around, saying nothing for now. Just looking. This was the first time he’d allowed himself to fully soak in the sight of me, hair cropped short, heart visibly beating in my chest, exposed by my low-cut top.

Suddenly, he slammed me against the closest wall, hands sliding up into my hair, his lips on mine. His kisses were urgent and so very desperate. I felt myself moan into his mouth and start to wrap myself into him, wanting to become as entwined as possible.

Just as I began to do this, he pulled back. Depriving me. Teasing me.

He just looked at me for a moment, eyes jumping around to take in every detail of me as quickly as possible, needing to absorb me.

He finally rested his eyes on mine. They had that hungry look in them yet again, and this time, I knew I was going to be absolutely devoured.