The weekly visit to the hairdresser

“The weekly visit to the hairdresser” was written for BDSMforyou.nl by Mistress Moriah.

Today was the day of her weekly appointment at the hairdresser. He had just dropped her off and then went shopping. Once he had found everything, he always went back to the hair salon to wait for her to finish. He usually took his time shopping, because he hated having to wait among all those women, and she often humiliated him in front of them. Just recently, she had openly checked whether his collar was still in place.

In the end, he couldn’t stall any longer. She was almost done, and he didn’t want to think about the consequences of being late.

Constipation problems

He loaded the groceries into the car and was about to walk to the salon. Just then, his neighbor from down the street came walking toward him and said hello. Almost in one breath, she told him that her husband had been admitted to the hospital. He hesitated for a moment. He really had to get to the hair salon so he wouldn’t be late, but he also felt that he couldn’t do that to his neighbor. He had to listen to her out of politeness, even if only for a moment.

A few minutes couldn’t hurt, he thought, and he asked the neighbor about her husband’s condition. Before he knew it, he was inundated with a torrent of words about his neighbor’s constipation problems. A few minutes turned into at least fifteen before he was finally able to squeeze in a quick excuse during a brief pause in the neighbor’s speech and make his escape to the barber shop. He even broke into a sprint to make up some time, and in his head, that one mantra repeated itself like a broken record: “Don’t let them be done yet! Don’t let them be done yet!”

With a cup of coffee

He entered with a red face and immediately saw that something was wrong. She was sitting there, neatly coiffed, at the reading table with a cup of coffee. She looked up when he came in. “Well, there he is at last!” her voice echoed through the salon. He mumbled a soft apology, blaming his sick neighbor, walked to the cash register with a red face, and quickly paid for his Domina.

They drove home together in silence. The tension was palpable, and he didn’t know how to act. He could see that she was angry, or at least dissatisfied with the situation. In her case, it was just as bad. “Do we have any fragile items in the trunk?” he suddenly heard her say. “No,” was his short answer. “Fine, then drive to that nature reserve nearby.”

He didn’t understand her for a moment, but it wasn’t his place to question her orders. He turned the wheel and set course for the area his Domina wanted to go to.

Hard slap in the face

As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, he got out and quickly walked around the car to open the door for his Domina. She got out and as soon as she was standing in front of him, she gave him a hard slap in the face. “Let’s start with this!” She then took a dog leash out of her bag, which she always kept there. With a quick gesture, she clipped it to his collar, which he had to wear 24/7.

Only in the height of summer was he allowed to take it off when he had to go to work. For those days, he had a special O-ring ready, so that, for the observant viewer, there was always a small identifying mark on him as a submissive. If he took off his clothes, the brand she had once burned into his skin to celebrate that he was her property and she was moving in with him would also be visible. It had been a painful but beautiful experience, but he was proud to wear her initials burned into his body.

Footsteps

They hadn’t gone far into the woods when they heard sounds that didn’t seem to belong there. It sounded like footsteps. She looked around but couldn’t see anything. He heard them too, and it made him uneasy. She saw his unease and enjoyed the slight panic in his eyes. “Gosh, it looks like we’re not the only ones here!” she said, adding to his unease. She walked on, still pulling him along on the dog leash.

As soon as they turned the corner, she spotted the other forest walkers. They walked towards each other. She felt a small jolt on the leash, indicating that he was startled. He was embarrassed, she enjoyed it. She straightened her back, conjured up the most beautiful smile around her lips and walked towards the other forest walkers, still pulling him along on the leash.

May I ask you something?

When she got close to the walkers, she stopped. “May I ask you something?” she said to the walkers. He froze in shock. She saw the surprised look in the eyes of the strangers and her smile grew, along with his embarrassment. She was clearly enjoying the situation. “Do you perhaps know of a place to walk dogs around here?” she continued her request. The walkers clearly didn’t know how to handle the situation and stammered something like, “Um… no, sorry.”

“Too bad! Then we’ll keep looking. Come on, dog!” she responded, simultaneously jerking the leash as a signal for him to walk along. She proudly led the way, he followed behind her with his head bowed in embarrassment. Never before had he felt so humiliated.

Beautiful tree

They walked deeper into the nature reserve, leaving the sounds of the city further and further behind them. The chance of encountering many people here was slim. She walked on until she spotted a beautiful tree. “Just what I’m looking for!” she said. “Shirt off!” she ordered him, “and hands above your head.” As soon as he had taken off his shirt and held his hands above his head, she pulled his belt from his pants and used it to tie his hands above his head to a low-hanging branch.

His bare chest glistened in the sunbeams. The leaves in the tree were still dripping from the heavy rain earlier that day. With a firm stroke, she ran her nails across his pale skin. He groaned and his skin immediately reacted with four beautiful red stripes. She looked around and saw a nice branch lying on the ground. She brought it down on his back like a whip. She enjoyed the sound of the flexible branch hitting his body. “A wonderful alternative to a cane!” she grinned.

Setting sun

The branch left more and more marks on his skin, turning his back the color of the setting sun. She hadn’t counted the strokes. What did the number matter anyway? She was enjoying her sweet revenge and would continue as long as it pleased her.

Only when she noticed that he really couldn’t take much more, and realized that he still had work to do today, did she stop. She pulled his head back by his hair and pressed her lips to his mouth. She took a few steps forward so that she was standing in front of him. She looked deep into his eyes, slid her hand over his chest until she found his nipples; she quickly twisted his nipples and brought her knee down hard on his crotch. He wasn’t prepared for it, and if the chain above his head hadn’t been chained to the tree branch, he would have ended up on his knees in front of her.

Sorry, Domina

“I haven’t heard anything yet, slave!” she whispered in his ear. He looked at her in surprise, momentarily unsure of what she was talking about and what she wanted to hear. In response to his silence, she brought her flat hand down hard on his cheeks. Suddenly, he realized what she wanted to hear. “Sorry, Domina, sorry I was late. An unforgivable mistake,” he stammered.

“Don’t let it happen again!” she snapped at him as she drove her knee into his groin.

Her gaze slid past him and fell on the green bush a few meters away from them. She smiled. She recognized the leaves of the green oasis immediately. She fished her leather gloves out of her bag, put them on, and walked towards the greenery.

Nettles

Nettles. Beautiful nettles. She picked a full bunch and walked back to her slave with them. She slid the fresh greenery over his chest, back and forth, to make sure the poison would do its job. He groaned, his skin reacting immediately to the leaves, and here and there painful and itchy blisters were already forming. His chest alone was not enough for her. With one hand, she unzipped his pants and pulled them down a bit. With his pants around his knees, she first grabbed him firmly in the crotch, digging her nails into his balls.

Then she slid the nettles into his underwear. She pulled his jeans back up and zipped them again. Her slave moaned and trembled. After that, she untied him, clicked the belt back onto his collar, let him put his shirt back on, stood in front of him for a moment, and whispered softly in his ear: “… and don’t let it happen again.” Her hand slid gently over his body, her soft lips briefly touched his mouth as she pulled on the chain, indicating that it was time to go. After all, there were still chores waiting for him!

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Source

Text: Mistress Moriah
Image: 123rf.com