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She looked in the mirror one last time before she got up from the chair.

"Do you like it?" asked John.

"Of course she likes it, silly" Maggie exclaimed.

Standing before the mirror, she tried to see the back. Gosh, I hope He likes it and doesn't think it's too short, she thought. How had she let Maggie talk her into this cut? Although the length wasn't too much shorter, the layers were new. And her bangs. Oh, good lord, the bangs. He hated her with bangs. He thought it widened her face and the one thing He had told her the first time He had cut her hair was to never let anyone cut her bangs straight across. What had she been thinking?

"Suzanne, do you like it?" John asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes, John. I'm sorry, just lost in thought. It looks wonderful!"

"So, what do you think Dave will say, Suz?"

"Well, Mags, He is going to be surprised. That's for sure."

And, He's going to kill me, she thought to herself.

"We better get going or He's going to have my head for keeping you out too late," Maggie joked.

If you only knew, Mags, if you only knew, she thought.

"Baby, I was getting worried about you," He said from the kitchen as He heard the door shut and her heels clicking on the tile floor as she walked through the entry.

"I'm sorry. I should have called You. It took a little longer at the hairdresser's than I thought it would."

"Well, come on in here and let me see how the color turned out. Did CJ have a problem matching the sample?"

"Um, well, CJ was sick today."

"Oh, so, you didn't get your color done? Then, what took you so long?"

He heard her heels pause on the kitchen floor tiles. He turned away from the counter and looked at her.

"Come here! Now!"

"Sweetie, now hold on just a second."

"Pamela Suzanne, here, now!" He shouted and pointed to a spot directly in front Him.

"

She slowly walked towards Him with her head lowered and stood quietly before Him.

He lifted her chin up with His forefinger, looking directly into her eyes. She could not avert His gaze. She knew He would never tolerate that and she was in enough trouble as it was.

He looked at her hair, turning her head by pushing her chin first one way, then the other. He put his hands on her shoulders and physically turned her around.

"Care to tell me what brought this on, little girl?" He asked in a deceptively calm tone of voice.

She could tell He was furious. Anytime He was quiet and slow in his speech, He was angry.

"Maggie thought it would look cute."

"Oh, I see. Maggie decides how you wear your hair now? Gee, I thought that was my job. Did someone change that?"

"No, Sir."

"Then I'm waiting for an explanation."

"Well, CJ wasn't there and I was going to leave when Maggie said that John could do my hair."

"Who the hell is John?"

"He, he's Maggie's hairdresser."

"Since when does anyone, I mean anyone cut your hair but me? CJ does a good job with the color and that is the only reason I allow you to go to her. Have I ever allowed another man to touch your hair?"

"No, Sir."

"Get upstairs! Now!"

"Yes, Sir."

She climbed the steps as he smacked her butt every step of the way. She opened the door of their bedroom.

"Go into the bathroom."

She walked into the bathroom.

"Sit."

She sat down on her make-up chair. He opened the cabinet door and took out a black bag.

"Sir?"

"Do not say one word to me, although, I have yet to hear an apology."

"I am sorry, Sir. I never should have allowed Maggie to talk me into getting my hair cut."

"No, you shouldn't have. You are restricted from seeing or talking to Maggie for a month. When she calls, I'll tell her You're on restriction."

"You can't do that! Please!"

"I can and I will. When you start acting more responsible then you can associate with her. Until then, I'll make those decisions for you. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Take your shirt off and your bra."

She stripped off her shirt and bra, folding them and laying them on the counter. She watched as He took His razor and thinning shears from His bag.

He turned on the faucet in the large tub.

"You know the drill."

She got up from the chair and knelt next to the tub, sticking her head under the faucet. He pushed her head further down. The water ran over her head, down the sides of her face. She had to almost hold her breath or she knew she would be coughing from the water running into her nose. He pulled her hair. He grabbed another bunch of her hair and pulled harder. She didn't say one word. She knew that she deserved whatever He dished out; she had disobeyed Him.

He turned off the water and she felt Him apply the shampoo. He started massaging the shampoo into her hair. He tugged and pulled her hair as He lathered it up. The soap ran down her face, dripping off her nose and chin. She kept her eyes tightly shut. She had hurt Him. She betrayed Him.

The water came back on with a force and He forced her head under the faucet. He rinsed her hair thoroughly. He quickly applied the conditioner after turning off the faucet and then rinsed it out. He then shut off the water and laid a towel on her head. He pressed the towel down, soaking up the excess water. He then briskly dried her hair, pulling it.

"Sit!"

She sat down on the chair again, with her head slightly bowed. He started combing her hair, not caring if He pulled it or not. He grabbed the hair at the back of her head and yanked.

"Hold your head up!"

"Yes, Sir."

He roughly finished combing her hair and reached over to the counter, picking up the razor. He picked up the hair at the temple and sliced it off, leaving only about an inch.

"Oh, Master, please don't cut it that short!" she begged.

"Do not say one more word. You're lucky I don't take the clippers to it. That's what I want to do. I am so angry with You."

"I'm so sorry."

He grabbed any lock and roughly sliced it off. "Didn't I say not to say one more word?"

She nodded her head. The tears rolled down her face as He continued to razor off lock after lock. The hair continued to fall down her body, a lock catching here and there on her breasts. The 8 to 12 inch locks piled up in her lap. He made sure to throw them into her lap.

"Put your hands in your lap. I want you to feel that hair. It will be a long time before I allow you to have your hair that long again. A very long time."

She sobbed louder. Her shoulders shook with her crying. It had been a long time since she had worn her hair short. In fact, not since He had cut her hair that first time. He had actually fixed what another stylist had done. He had been recommended to her and they just clicked. From that point on, He was the only one to cut her hair. He preferred her hair longer. He liked it better about shoulder length, but she had finally convinced Him to let her grow it longer and then she did this. What was she thinking!

He took the thinning shears to her bangs. He then razored the sides over her ears. She heard the razor tear through her hair. He tugged and pulled as He razored off lock after lock.

"You will wear Your hair like this for three months. You will lay out my tools every week on Sunday evening and come and ask me to give you a haircut. If you fail to do this, it will extend your punishment time for a week. If you fail to do it two weeks in a row, the back will be clippered for the remainder of the punishment. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Clean up this mess. Clean and put my tools away."

"Yes, Sir."

He walked out the room. She finally was able to look in the mirror and couldn't believe how short her hair was. He had given her what many would call a pixie, but He had softened it with a little fringe in the back and on the sides. Her punishment could have been much worse.

"When you get finished in there, I want you in here," He said as He walked to the door with His belt in His hand...

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