An appointment at the Enforced Grooming & Shaving Salon

Tytania Towers, November 2013.

 A testimonial.

As I take a train towards one of the more unorthodox hair ‘appointments’ I have been to, I’m feeling confident.

I’ve just left work where I call the shots but am flashing forward already to a situation where I lose power and control – I’m that boy again and I’m about to enter Ms Tytania’s Enforced Grooming & Shaving Salon.

A text arrives at the appointed time and I move towards the address.  It takes me away from the corporate jungle scarring the night sky towards closer, quieter pedestrian streets.

I arrive at the door and announce my arrival.  I’m buzzed in and lay eyes on the real Ms Tytania.  Petite, beautifully proportioned, extremely well groomed with kind eyes which hold an element of mischief, but not, I say to myself, danger.

She tests me on a couple of facts which I deal with easily – I can see the layout of her studio now, which distracts me slightly: an array or coloured ropes, assorted karabiners, hooks, ceiling suspension and a small gym horse.  The centrepiece which immediately interests me is her vintage barber chair – it is really a stunning piece.  The room is decorated in a tasteful retro style and various beautiful items of technology many of them old and redundant, but aesthetically pleasing.

I’m now sitting on the barber chair chatting casually, relaxed when I make a comment that she doesn’t like and she’s on me, challenging.

I feel the cockiness start to drain – she seemingly accepts my response but I sensed something changed in that moment – she knows that, if she presses the right buttons, she’ll have me and deep down. I knew I’d eventually let the balance of power slip and wouldn’t recover – but I played on….

Things remain nice while I strip and sit on the chair, where she proceeds to tie me, chatting casually and joking that I could still escape.  Then more rope is applied and that isn’t possible any more…

And at this point, the power dynamics tilt in Ms Tytania’s favour.

It was back to the look of contempt from when I offended her.  I felt her arm wrap around my throat.  The skin was wonderfully soft and the muscles toned but as the bone pressed against my Adam’s apple I knew this was not to be a pampering session… nor by this time did I want it to be.

I’d been semi hard from the time I entered the Salon, but now I was wrapped in a hardresser’s cape, restrained and naked I was fully hard – my helmet bulging and balls aching as they had been hamstrung together by one of Ms Tytania’s mini ropes.

Then it came, hair pulled, cock pulled, shiny blood red polished nails scraping the scalp….

The precise order of things are unclear from now on – I fell into what I can only describe as a state of euphoria – I was aware but I was oblivious, I could feel and at the same time, I could feel nothing….. She teased me and pulled my hair, slapped and shaved. Clippered and cut.  A ‘T’ was carved in my pubic hair before she took delight in shaving it all ‘like a lamb’, she observed laughing.  At various times she was on top if my hamstrung body – I felt her super soft red hair sweep against my cheek and torso, she pressed herself against my cock and our eyes met…. Her mouth moved towards my face and I watched as her eyes closed, her nose turned up and she blew white, pasty spit into my face – scowling. Angry at my impudence in daring to think I could be worthy of any sexual pleasure from this other than my ritual humiliation.  Then she laughed at my predicament as she buzzed sections of my hair….

She delighted in shaving hair and dropping it on my face and torso.  She pinned me right down and took her clippers to my forehead… And started to push and hair was falling – I couldn’t feel and in that moment I didn’t care how much she was taking off.  All I could see in the mirror was the silhouette of a beautiful but hard woman clippers in hand and a manic look on her face.

She held her clippers in my face, threatening to take an eyebrow, laughing….

Next thing I know, ropes were untied and I was bent over a small gym horse, hands tied tight behind my back and legs spread wide. She worked the razor around my crack before moisturising and preparing me for the ultimate humiliation… a buttplug.

The price for sporting a raging hard on all through the proceedings, it’s to be allowed to style my freshly shorn locks with my own boy juices. I indulge gratefully and obey.

I was put back in the chair and my neck was roughly buzzed before I was allowed to go, left to explain to anyone who might notice why there was an inch square shaved patch at my hairline and no public hair…


Click on this link if you want to book an appointment at Ms Tytania’s Enforced Grooming & Styling Salon.


The Evidence: just a square inch of precious hair clipped off the forehead. Just a little memento of a memorable appointment at the Salon.

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