A Guy With Long Hair - It all Started at the Salon - Part 1 (Patreon)

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Note - R Rated Story

I was never a particularly motivated person. I finished high school, and while my friends mostly moved on to college, I opted to start working instead. I was never very good at school, and I figured my best bet was to join the workforce and start making some money. The problem, of course, was that, with my lack of education, I was only able to land a job working at a department store in one of our local malls. I made a modest living and was able to afford a small apartment, where I spent most of my free time.

As I had no car, I liked to walk the mall on my lunch break and quickly found myself drawn to a hair salon that was designed with an open concept. This allowed passersby to look in and see all the activity that was taking place. All my life, I have found myself drawn to all things related to hair, so this was, of course, very intriguing to me. I loved looking at pictures of elaborate hairstyles and colors and was particularly drawn to hairstyles done with braids and buns or lots of feminine curls. For some reason, I found this very arousing.

For months, I walked by and often found myself lingering when I saw something interesting going on inside. I would even go as far as to pass by several times or even stop out front and pretend to look at my phone while I snuck a look at what was going on. Occasionally, I would get caught looking in by one of the stylists and scurry off, vowing to never return. The problem was that I just couldn't stay away and would find myself passing by again, hoping to get a glimpse of somebody getting their hair done.

I often fantasized about working at the salon or having my hair done in fancy braids or curled while people looked on. I loved to brush and play with my long hair, but I always kept these feelings to myself, as these desires were quite embarrassing for me. I really didn't want others to know about them, so I kept them bottled up inside. I would sometimes arrange my hair in a high ponytail or bun on top of my head when at home, which always seemed to lead to me praising myself and then feeling extremely guilty and ashamed afterward.

One day I passed by the salon on my lunch break and found a teenage girl having her hair styled in one of the chairs closest to the front window. I was completely taken aback as the stylist parted her hair down the middle and Dutch braided her hair from front to back on top of her head as well as up the back of her head. She then continued to braid what was left of the girl's beautiful long brunette hair and proceeded to wrap the braids into two very cute buns on top of her head.

The girl appeared to be elated with the style and moved her head from side to side, trying to take it in all directions. Her hands kept touching the braids as she smiled from ear to ear. This was possibly the cutest hairstyle I had ever seen, and I must have frozen right there in front of the salon and stared in with a very large tent forming in the front of my pants.

I was suddenly brought back to reality as the stylist took notice of me and started walking out of the salon towards where I stood. This was the same stylist who had caught me looking in the window several times in the past. I quickly turned and rushed off into the crowded mall, terrified of what would happen if she caught me. I walked quickly to the nearest exit and, glancing over my shoulder, realized that she wasn't pursuing me any longer. I made my way back to the department store where I worked and came to the realization that I would need to avoid the salon for the next little while.

I couldn't get the image of the girl sitting in the salon chair out of my mind. I even entertained the idea of visiting the restroom to play with myself, but in the end, I decided to wait until I got home. I decided to try to focus on work for the rest of the day and count down the hours until quitting time.

Towards the end of my shift, I looked up and was shocked to see the stylist from the hair salon speaking with my boss. I tried to slink away but couldn't move fast enough as I was pointed out, and I ended up freezing like a devil in the headlights. As she approached me, I saw how beautiful she actually was. She looked to be in her late 30s and had long auburn hair, which she wore down with a slight wave to it. She was dressed in a short black skirt and crisp white blouse and wore large black glasses.

"So, you like peeping at girls while they get their hair done?" she barked at me with a very stern tone to her voice.

I didn't know what to say, as I was completely embarrassed and could only stammer as I tried to respond.

"Answer me, girl!" she said sternly and loudly, causing several people nearby to stop what they were doing and look over.

"I'm sorry, mam, I won't do it again," I said quietly, blushing red and starting to feel very aroused. For some reason, the shame of the whole experience seemed to be a turn-on for me.

"I expect you to be at the salon as soon as you're done with your shift, girl, and don't even think about not showing up," she said, then turned and left me standing there dumbstruck with a combination of fear and arousal.

I was a complete wreck for the rest of my shift as I contemplated what I should do next. Should I just leave, or should I visit the salon to see what she wants? Why was the stylist calling me "girl," and what was she planning to do to me if I actually went there? I was completely terrified of this woman, which seemed to cause my arousal to grow as my shift came closer and closer to its end.

As I left the department store, the mall was now relatively empty as it was close to closing time. I snuck towards the salon and peered in from a distance to see if I could see anybody inside. The salon looked deserted, so I made my way to the door and slowly made my way inside. I was immediately overcome by the strong perfume smell in the air as I entered this place where only women would typically go. I was buzzing with fear as I moved inside and saw the stylist come out from the back room.

"Good, you're here. Sit in this chair," she said, motioning to one of the chairs located at the hair washing station.

As I sat, I tried to once again apologize but was hushed as she wrapped a pink cape around me, tying it tightly around my neck. She then removed the hair elastic that I seemed to always have in my hair and leaned me back into the wash sink. She washed and conditioned my hair using a very flowery-smelling product that would only ever be used on a female. I was buzzing with arousal and could only sit, trying to hide this fact from this beautiful woman.

With my hair washed, she ordered me to stand and follow her to one of the sewing chairs. As I sat, she brushed all the tangles from my long hair, then instructed me to lean forward and put my head down between my legs. As I did, she started to brush my hair forward, then parted it down the middle of the back of my head. She put the brush down, and I felt my hair being pulled tightly at the nape of my neck. This tension then started to work its way up towards the top of my head. It took a minute for my brain to register what was going on, and then I suddenly realized she was Dutch braiding my hair the same way she had done to the girl I watched that afternoon. I immediately tried to bolt from the chair, but she had a firm grip on my hair, and escaping seemed impossible.

"Sit still, girl! "Or this will get a lot worse for you," she warned as she continued to braid my hair with her skilled hands.

Once the left side was done, she tied off the remaining hair at the top of the head with an elastic and did the same on the right side. I was finally allowed to sit up as she continued by parting the top of the hair down the middle and then proceeded to braid both sides, moving from front to back. Finally, she braided my hair where it met at the top of my head, and twisted it into two tight buns. The feeling of tension caused by the braids was very erotic.

With the pink cape removed, my hand immediately shot up and touched the back of my head to feel the tight braids. As I moved my hand up the back of my head, my erection swelled, and I started to feel a bit light-headed. She then held a mirror behind me so that I could see the back of my new hair.

"I figured since you like this style so much, you should wear it home," she laughed as I sat, turning my head from side to side, taking in what she had done to me.

I had no words; this was the most humiliating and erotic thing that had ever happened to me. I simply sat dumbstruck as the stylist took several pictures of me before ushering me to the door and pushing me out into the mall to make my way home. I rushed through the mall and outside, trying not to be seen by anyone. As I left the mall and made my way to the bus stop, I felt the cool air on my neck as I blushed red with the humiliation of what had just happened.

I had to hurry to catch the last bus since it was late, and I didn't have any time to try to take the braids out of my hair. Truthfully, I really didn't want to because I now found myself more aroused than I had ever been before. The bus ride home was terrifying as people gawked at me. I couldn't stop touching the braids and tight little buns she had woven into my hair. I even found myself rubbing my erection through my pants. I was truly in a state of sexual overdrive.

When I finally arrived at home, I went straight to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, turning my head from side to side and touching my hair everywhere, just like I had watched the girl do in the salon earlier that day. I finally couldn't take it anymore and started to stroke myself until I erupted all over the bathroom floor.

As I came down from my sexual high, the feelings of guilt and shame set in quickly. How could I have let this happen to me, and why did it make me so sexually excited? I asked myself. I quickly moved my hand up to start taking the braids out of my hair, but when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I stopped in my tracks. I loved everything about the way this looked and felt and could not bring myself to take them out. I decided not to fix my hair until the morning and spent the rest of the night looking at myself in the mirror and masturbating.

I had the early shift the next day, so when I woke up, I quickly realized that I needed to fix my hair. Once again, I felt incredibly ridiculous looking like this, which only seemed to fuel my arousal more. It took me about 20 minutes to get the braids out, and I was now unfortunately left with a mass of waves in my hair. This was likely the result of my hair being wet when it was braided yesterday. I didn't have time to shower, so I pulled it back in a low ponytail and wet it as best I could to try to make the waves less noticeable.

That morning at work, I got a few strange comments about my unusually wavey ponytail, but other than that, my morning was relatively uneventful. My mind kept wandering back to the incident in the salon as I daydreamed about the same thing happening to me midday when the salon was crowded. It was nearing lunchtime, and as I stood up from stocking shelves, I found myself face-to-face with the stylist from the night before.

She was dressed similar to the previous day but had worn her hair down, flowing halfway down her back in auburn waves. She stepped forward, reached behind me, and grabbed my ponytail.

"Did you sleep with your braids in last night, girl?" She said it loudly, laughing and drawing far too much attention from those around us.

"I'm not a girl," I said softly, unable to maintain eye contact with her as she still scared me to death.

"Nonsense, a real man wouldn't have let me braid his hair, and he certainly wouldn't have worn the braids home or slept in them," she said loudly once more.

I had no response to this, as I knew that she was correct. The people who were listening to our conversation laughed, and I once again felt my arousal building in conjunction with my level of humiliation. I wanted to turn and run, but all I could do was stand there frozen with fear over what would happen next.

"I bet you even played with yourself while you looked at your pretty braids, didn't you, girl?" she laughed.

I tried to deny this, but my face turned more and more red as my shame grew, and she knew the answer to her question. She stepped forward once again and put her hand on my crotch, feeling my erection for a brief moment. She then turned and walked away, but not before telling me to meet her at the salon when my lunch break came.

I was a complete wreck once again but soon found myself entering the salon as she had instructed me. Once again, the smell hit me as I entered this forbidden place. Unlike the night before, when the salon was quiet, it was now buzzing with activity. Just being here had me super aroused, as I had often fantasized about it as I walked by for the last few months, sneaking looks at what was going on inside. She made me wait, standing in the middle of the salon for almost 15 minutes, which made me very uncomfortable. I stood shuffling from foot to foot, trying not to draw attention to myself.

Finally, she came to get me and led me into one of the back rooms that they used for waxing. I was terrified of what would happen next, but also too scared to deny this beautiful woman anything she requested.

"Step out of your pants and underwear; we are going to take care of a little problem," she said, as casually as if she had asked me the time.

I hesitated for a brief moment, which seemed to anger her, as she stepped forward and aggressively pulled down my trousers and underwear. I stood frozen with fear, my erection now clearly on display as it stood straight out of my body. My face felt flushed, and my heart was beating as if I had just run a marathon.

"What a disgusting mess! "Now step out of your pants, girl!" She barked at me.

I didn't know what else to do, so I complied and soon found myself standing naked from the waist down with this beautiful woman. She then pulled a small cold pack from one of the fridge units placed it in the palm of her hand, then grabbed my testicles. The pain was immediate, and I tried to pull away, but she had a firm grip and was not letting go. As my erection started to dwindle, she took a pair of small clippers and ran them through my pubic hair, leaving absolutely nothing in their path. Soon my genitals were hairless, which seemed to give her much pleasure.

Next, I saw a flash of something pink and felt her fitting something around the underside of my testicles, then connecting it on top of my now shriveled penis. As I looked down, I came to the startling realization that she was putting me into a chastity device. I immediately tried to pull away from her, but she had a firm grip on my balls and started to squeeze them, which stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Be still, girl, or I'll drag you into the salon and braid your hair in front of everybody, then send you back to work!" She said it with a laugh.

As she slid the tube up my penis and connected it to the base piece, I heard an ominous "click" and realized that the chastity device was now locked into place. Looking down at the pink plastic that now covered my genitals I once again became aroused, but as my penis started to swell, it quickly became painful for me.

"Good, now that we have your masturbation problem under control, we can get to proper business," she said with a large smile on her face.

She made me remain naked from the waist down as she told me her name was Vera, but I would only call her "Mam." She went on to tell me that moving forward, my life would be very different than it had been in the past, and that she had many surprises in store for me. Finally, she allowed me to get dressed, then led me back out into the salon, where she had me sit in her styling chair once again.

The ladies in the salon stared at me, as I was pretty sure seeing a male here was quite unusual. I was terrified that she was going to braid my hair again, but she did not. Instead, she pulled a piercing gun from her station and proceeded to pierce my ears twice on both sides. As I looked into the mirror, I saw that this one simple thing seemed to make me appear much more feminine. The two diamond studs that now adorned each ear shimmered under the lights of the salon. With my hair pulled back the way it was, my new earrings were clearly on display for everybody around me to see.

The women in the salon laughed and asked if I had lost a bet. I tried to come up with a suitable answer, but Vera beat me to it, telling them that I just liked pretty things. This caused another round of laughter at my expense. This whole thing had been so humiliating that my poor penis tried to swell in its cage. This, of course, caused me great pain as I sat there trying to figure out what to do. I was also told the backs of the earrings were locked on and could only be removed with a special tool.

Vera sent me back to work, where I spent the rest of the day trying to hide from people but obviously could not. The questions kept coming about my newly pierced ears, which only caused me to become more aroused and made the rest of my day very uncomfortable. Finally, quitting time arrived, and I made my way home, not sure of what to do next or how to handle what had taken place that day.