surrendering to who I am…



When Master and I resumed our D/s relationship four years ago now, I became a little obsessed with asking Master what style He wanted every time I went for a hair cut. I was enjoying the newness of being under His control again and swung the pendulum far in the direction of asking him details of what He wanted me to do. My eagerness to please was in overdrive.

I don’t remember how I latched on to the notion that He cared that much about my hair. He probably made some casual comment about what He’d like to see, and I turned it into showing Him lots of photos about possible styles and asking Him what He wanted me to do. This continued for a few months until – in a conversation about something different – He blurted out, “…just like you think I’m interested in the details of your hair.” I was a bit blown back but got the message. I didn’t ask Him again. I just sometimes shared with Him pics after I got my hair done to show Him the finished product – especially if my hairdresser curled my hair – and I was feeling particularly sassy and sexy after getting the cut.

Thinking that He was interested in the details of my hair was not something I conjured up out of the blue, however. When He first took me as His submissive and pierced my nipples, He made a request of me then to grow my hair down to my shoulders (it was a bit shorter than chin length at the time). I dutifully grew my hair out. It has been long ever since.

Last January, I decided to grow it longer than shoulder length. I was looking for a change. My hairdresser suggested cutting it short, but I knew that was not my nor His desire (we both like hair pulling too much!). So, growing it longer it was. I also tried bangs briefly. I know Master does not like bangs, but I figured I would try them because I liked the look that my hairdresser suggested. The details are left up to me, right? So, I tried something new.

The bangs were a bust, and I grew them out. Over this past year, my hair got pretty long. So long that I started wearing it behind my ears more and more (another look I know Master doesn’t like). Still, I was enjoying the style. I thought it looked good, and it was easy to care for.

So – a bit to my surprise – Master commented about a month ago about the length of my hair. He played with it a bit and suggested that cutting about three inches off would frame my face nicely. True, that is a good look on me, but I’m also happy with the way it is. I mentioned I was visiting my hairdresser at the end of the month, and I could talk about possibilities. He made some comment like, “So, you can send me a picture afterwards showing me what you decide.”

In the days after that conversation, I got a bit miffed. “I thought you didn’t care about the details of my hair,” I huffed in the privacy of my thoughts. Granted, He was not dictating a very specific style but still…I was happy with my hair the way it is…and it is long (the one requirement), so why change it?

I started looking at pictures of different styles but quickly grew bored. Finding a new hairstyle is not important to me at the moment. But, every morning when I looked in the mirror, I did notice how the style didn’t frame my face well. It didn’t look bad; it just didn’t really emphasize any of my features.

I contemplated not changing it at all. What if I did the exact same cut and didn’t send Him a picture afterwards? It wasn’t really an assignment or a command. It’s my decision, right. Right! I’ll talk about it with my hairdresser, but I’ll decide what to do.

“Your hair looks so great,” my hairdresser says. “Shall we just trim it?”

“Well, it’s a new year,” I say. “What ideas do you have for a more face framing cut?”

He makes some suggestions I like, and I decide to cut it. Before he makes the first cut, he holds my hair up between his fingers and says, “I’m cutting about this much off. Are you sure?” I appreciate that he asks but say yes.

As he finishes up the last curl and puts a bit of hairspray on, we both look in the mirror and agree it is a better cut. We laugh. “It’s not that the other one was bad,” he says, “it was just time for a change.”

I take a picture and send to Master that night. I don’t share all my machinations over the past month. I just say, “Here’s me with my ┬ánew shoulder-length hair.”

In the end, I decided what to do.

…didn’t I?

The line blurs about what’s His idea and what’s my idea….

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surrendering to who I am…




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