The Salon Assistant Part 3
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The Salon Assistant - Part 2 free porn video
After I finished tidying up the salon Becky ushered me out with an air
kiss and a pat on my rear. "Hurry up sweetie or you'll be late for your
bus. I'll call you at some point during the week to get all your details
and agree your pay and stuff."
I left and started to make my way, slowly, towards the bus stop. My head
was in a fog of confusion with what had just happened to me. Yesterday I
was an awkward, unemployed, teenage boy with an unruly explosion of
curls on his head and today I was leaving the salon with a summer job
and an androgynous (at best) pixie cut.
As this thought entered my head I stopped and stared at my reflection in
a shop window. I stroked the back of my head, which had been left
exposed by Becky's clippers, and a shiver went through my spine. I then
ran my hand through the long waves of curls that sat on top of my head
and watched them immediately fall back into place. "Hmmmm, yes.....
androgynous," I thought to myself.
I endured an agonising wait at the bus stop, and an even longer bus
journey home. Every glance in my direction, from every stranger, no
matter how brief, immediately induced an embarrassed flush of my cheeks
and a twitch in my crotch.
That, however, was nothing compared to the semi-permanent crimson glow
and raging erection I experienced when I got home and my mum visually
and physically inspected Becky's handiwork for herself. She just
couldn't stop running her hands through my hair or against the freshly
shaved nape of my neck. After what seemed to be an eternity of this
manhandling my mother declared herself satisfied with my new style and
how it was. "So much better than the unsightly mess you left with this
morning."
After this I immediately locked myself in my room to try and "process
the events of the day." This is obviously teenage boy speak for trying
to masturbate yourself into a coma but, no matter how good my orgasms
were (best ever), I couldn't fall asleep. I just lay on my bed trembling
with excitement and occasionally getting up to stare at my new hairstyle
and think about Becky. Of course every time I did this the cycle would
start over again. Something had clearly been awoken in me and I was
struggling to identify what it was.
I eventually managed to get control of myself by taking a long shower
and, when I emerged, I noticed that my damp hair looked much more
masculine when it was slicked back to smooth out the curls. After
initially experiencing a twinge of disappointment when I noticed this I
soon managed to shake this. I had stumbled across a way to live with my
new hairstyle without drawing unnecessary attention to myself.
A few days of slicking my hair back went by and, just when I was
starting to think that the whole experience had been a teenage fantasy,
I got a call from Becky. "Hello Steph?" "Who's this?" I said. "Hi Steph,
it's Becky." "You don't mind me calling you Steph do you, Stephen?
Stephen seems really formal and I think Steph is going to be much more
suitable for when you're here at the salon." "Eh, no, whatever," I
mumbled.
"Good, that's that sorted. Now, before you start on Saturday I need to
ask you a few standard pre-employment questions so that I can update our
personnel records. Are you ok to answer a few questions now, Steph?"
I had never got close enough to having a job to know what a standard
pre-employment question was so I just said yes and answered every
question that Becky asked. Height? (5'11) Weight? (11st 7lbs) Shoe size?
(Nine) Sexual orientation? (Heterosexual) Number of sexual partners?
(None). Those last two answers elicited a, "We'll see," and an, "Hmmmm,
lovely," from Becky before she quickly moved on to telling me that I
would be on a zero-hours contract (I would always be on call and would
work whatever hours she needed me to work) and the minimum wage. She
then signed off with a quick, "See you at 9 on Saturday morning,
sweetie. Don't worry, it'll be fun."
I arrived at the salon at 8:45 on Saturday morning and, hoping to make a
good impression, I wore my best jeans, a black polo shirt and had
slicked back my hair as neatly as possible. After a brief hesitation I
walked in and introduced myself to the girl on reception. "The new salon
assistant? You must be Steph? Yes, Becky told us all about you. I'm
Amanda, by the way. Come in and I'll introduce you to the stylists."
Amanda then proceeded to introduce me to Duncan, the never been in the
closet gay stylist; Roxy the edgy, punky, tattooed scissor-wielding,
scissor-sister; Alana the demure, but beautiful, manicurist and stylist;
and last, but by no means least, Chloe, the blonde goddess of the group.
Chloe came over and gave me a big hug and said, "You know when you were
in here last Saturday I felt sorry for you having to wait around for so
long. I had a cancellation and wanted to squeeze you in but Becky said
you were all hers." This took me by surprise and, just as I was about to
respond, Becky swept into the salon.
She looked stunning. Her hair was as perfect as I remembered from last
Sunday but this time her make-up was something else. Her red, shiny
lipstick seemed to invite your lips on to hers and her brown eyes popped
with what seemed to be the perfect amount of mascara, eyeliner, and
brown and gold eyeshadow. And above those were perhaps the most
magnificently shaped eyebrows I had ever seen. They were so perfect I
wanted to just smooth my finger across them. She then removed her coat
and this immediately shook me from wallowing in her perfectly made-up
face. Now I was wallowing in her perfectly clad body. She was wearing a
knee length black, pleated leather skirt and a black silk blouse with a
huge pussy bow at the front.
"Wow!" Amanda said. "You look great. What's the occasion?" "Oh,
nothing," said Becky. "I just like to get dressed up occasionally and
remind you all who the boss is." "Look, Steph is here already." Becky
looked at me dismissively and said, "So I see." She handed me her coat
and barked, "Hang it up. Oh, and make me a cup of tea. White with no
sugar. In fact, make some tea for everyone." After I carefully hung up
the coat Amanda took me to the kitchen at the back of the salon and I
quickly completed my first task of the day, emerging from the kitchen,
slightly trembling and with a tray full of steaming mugs of tea.
I distributed the tea amongst all of the staff members until there were
just two mugs left; Becky's and mine. "Hi Becky, here's your tea." She
stared at me and, without, moving her gaze, picked up her tea. "What
have you done to your hair? It looks terrible. Did you not like how I
cut it?" I blushed as she had said this so that all of the other
stylists could hear. "No, I just, I just thought this...." She cut me
off. "Look, we're running a high-end salon here. We have to look our
best at all times. I can't have a new start undermining that."
I stared at the floor and mumbled, "Sorry Becky." "It's not a great
start, is it Steph?" I blushed even harder this time. "No, sorry Becky."
"Who's that other cup for?" "It's for me, Becky," I stammered. "I don't
think so. Not after the way you've started. Understood?" "Yes, Becky."
"Amanda, will you show Steph what to do to get the towels ready for
today?" "Oh, and Steph-" "Yes, Becky." "I've decided I don't like you
calling me Becky. I'm the boss here and deserve some respect, don't you
think? When you're here I want you to call me Ma'am." "What?" "Do I need
to repeat myself?" "No, sorry B.....sorry Ma'am," I muttered as I made
my withdrawal with Amanda.
Despite the fact that the day couldn't have got off to a worse start the
rest of it flew by in a whirlwind of stacking towels, picking up towels,
hanging coats, making tea, chit-chat with the stylists and clients and
staring in awe as hair was shaped and styled for some of the most
glamorous women in the city. I was exhausted by the whole experience and
was glad to see the final client leave the salon. She was closely
followed by Armanda and all of the stylists as they all hurried away to
get ready to hit the town with their partners or friends. That just left
me, Becky and an awkward silence in the salon.
As I finished tidying the final station Becky approached. "Finished?"
"Just about, Becky?" She glared and me and, for the first time, I
noticed that she was taller than me. I quickly demurred, "Just about,
Ma'am?" "So how was you first day?" "It was good," I said. "Apart from
the start obviously." "Yes, I need to do something about that. Can't
have that happening again. I'm going to need you to come in tomorrow.
Before you go tonight I also need to sort out your hair. Once you've
finished tidying here go over to one of the sinks and wait for me while
I freshen up."
After I had finished I sat at one of the sinks and reclined back with my
head in the collar of the sink, waiting for what seemed to be an
eternity. Becky then emerged, looking as if she had re-applied all of
her make-up and was ready for a night on the town. "Right, let's get all
of this gunk out of your hair. Move your hands to the side. That's it."
Then instead of approaching me from the side of the sink she straddled
me in the chair. Startled by this I raised my head and shoulders from
the sink only to be pushed back down by her strong, perfectly manicured
hands. I was now pinned to the chair between her nylon-clad legs and her
pleated leather skirt draped over my legs. She turned on the shower-head
and leaned forward to dampen my hair. She leaned further forward to
reach round the back of my head with the shower and my face disappeared
into the silk pussy bow on her blouse. A warm, damp, gooey mess exploded
into my boxers. I blushed and squirmed under her.
"Okay, I think we're ready to lather up now. Which shampoo do you want
me to use? This one?" She squirted some into her hands and let me smell
the neutral odours of the shampoo. "Or this one?" The second one had a
much more floral and feminine aroma. "The first one," I somehow managed
to say. "Oops, you forgot to say Ma'am. That means I get to choose. The
second one it is then." She then proceeded to squeeze directly onto my
head half of the bottle of shampoo and massaged it in until the lather
started to sting my eyes. After a few minutes of this, and being rebuked
for complaining about my eyes stinging, she rinsed all of the lather
away and wrapped a towel around my head like a turban.
Becky dismounted me and then instructed me to get a styling cape and to
meet her at her styling station. Mindful of the mess that was now in my
boxer shorts I got up and tried my very best to ensure that it didn't
seep through to the front of my jeans as I picked up one of the black
nylon capes that were used on the clients throughout the day. I gingerly
approached Becky's styling station, noticing that she had turned the
chair round to face away from the mirror, and extended my hand to give
her the cape. "What's that?" she said. "It's the styling cape, you
wanted." She raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, it's the styling cape you
wanted, Ma'am."
"Come on, Steph, sweetie. You know that's not your styling cape. Put
that back and get me the one we use for you." "But....but...but." "But
what?" she asked. "But that's for little girls." "And what are you if
not a little girl? Little girls don't do what they're told, mess up
their nice hair, cry when it gets shampooed and they also wet their
little panties," she said, pointing to the mess that had now seeped
through into the front of my jeans. At this revelation I cringed and
stood motionless and speechless for what seemed like an eternity. "I
don't have all evening," Becky said to wake me from my stupor of shame.
Defeated and humiliated, I trudged off to get the pink cape and brought
it back to her.
"Here's the cape you wanted, Ma'am." "It's the cape we both wanted,
Steph sweetie. You just don't know it yet. Now sit down and let me sort
out this hair of yours." I sat down and she immediately swished the cape
round me, fastening it at the neck and enveloping me in the delicious
nylon bondage. As soon as my hands disappeared under the cape my
erection re-appeared.
After twenty minutes or so of drying and brushing Becky declared herself
happy with the results and span the chair round so that I could see my
reflection, our reflections, in the mirror. She had outdone herself this
time. There was no androgyny to this look. This was a full on, short
woman's hairstyle and, save for the highlights, was exactly like hers.
She then shielded my eyes as she emptied what seemed to be an entire can
of hairspray onto it. "Now, don't even think about washing this tonight.
I want this to be just like this when you come in here tomorrow.
Understood?" "Yes, Ma'am," I whispered and started to stand. For the
second time that evening her firm, perfectly manicured hand pushed me
back into the chair. "Not yet, I haven't quite finished with you," she
said before disappearing back into the salon. My mind started to wander,
and wonder, at what else she had in store for me. My erection grew
stronger.
After a few minutes I heard the squeaking of some wheels and looked over
to see Becky pushing the manicure station towards me. She must have
noticed the panic on my face as she said, "Don't worry, sweetie. I
noticed your nails were a bit dirty and I need to tidy them up a bit to
make sure you don't scare the clients. Now be a cutie and put your right
hand in this bowl for me."
I slowly, reluctantly released my right hand from its pink nylon bondage
and placed it in the bowl that is used to soften the nails and make them
more pliable and easier to shape. After several minutes of steeping
Becky took my fingers out of the bowl and started to prod, cut and file
my nails until each one of them had been shaped into a perfectly
groomed, and comfortingly unisex, shape. My penis, of course, stood at
attention under the styling cape throughout this process. Becky then
proceeded to do the same with my left hand and, once she had repeated
the process with that she announced, "Almost done." I looked at her
quizzically. "Just the nail polish to apply," she informed me, noticing
the expression on my face.
"Now, sweetie, I'm going to give you a choice again. Do you want this
one, a nice clear one that men get when they get a manicure? Or do you
want this one, a beautiful shade of coral pink?" My heart was having
palpitations at the very thought of this and I immediately said, "The
first one, Ma'am." Becky smiled. "A quick learner I see. Coral pink it
is." My eyes widened in panic. "Look," she said holding her hand up,
"it's the same as the shade I'm wearing so if we're hairstyle twins we
may as well go the whole hog and be nail varnish twins as well. Don't
you think? Give me your right hand, sweetie." I extended my right hand
and she took hold of it and noticed a slight tremble. She looked at me
and blew me a kiss. "This won't hurt a bit."
As soon as she said that she opened the bottle of coral pink nail
varnish and the strong, beautiful, chemical fumes from it filled my
nostrils. She dabbed the brush in it and started to paint the nail on my
pinkie (ironic name) finger. As soon as she stroked the brush along the
nail for the second time, and more of it disappeared under the pink
glaze, I erupted again and my boxers were filled for the second time
that evening. After this I sat in silence and watched as she delighted
in every single stroke of the nail brush as all ten fingers were fully
feminised.
Once finished she patted my hand, looked at me and said, "There, that
wasn't so bad, was it? Now you just need to wait fifteen minutes for
them to dry. I'm just going to nip off to the little girls room and
leave you here to admire yourself in the mirror."
At that Becky disappeared and I unconsciously started to follow her
instructions and stare at myself in the mirror. All I could see was a
boy with a girl's hairstyle and pink nails, pinned to a chair by a pink
hairstyling cape. How had I got myself into this position and how could
I get myself out of it? Did I even want to get myself out of it? While
all of these thoughts were swirling through my head I had subconsciously
raised my hands and was staring at my newly varnished nails. Just at
that I heard Becky say, "Perfect picture. So cute," as she used her
phone to take some pictures. I clearly hadn't heard her return from the
little girls room.
Before I could say anything she declared, "Right, your nails will be dry
now. You can go," and released me from the styling cape. She noticed my
reluctance to get up out of the chair "What's up, sweetie? Don't want to
leave? Aren't your nails pink enough for you?" I blushed.
"Eh, can I clean myself up before I go?" "Hasn't that all dried in by
now?" Becky looked intently at my groin and noticed fresh damp patch.
"Oh, did you have another accident when I was painting your nails a
pretty pink?" "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, what?" she chided me. Through
gritted teeth I responded, "Yes, I had another accident when you were
painting my nails." She gave me a look to let me know that I hadn't
finished the sentence so I started again. "Yes, I had another accident
when you were painting my nails a pretty pink." Again she stared at me
to let me know that I hadn't finished to her satisfaction. This time I
retorted with muted anger, "Yes, I had another accident when you were
painting my nails a pretty pink, Ma'am."
"Less of the attitude, young Stephie. Just for that I'm going to let you
go home like that. Now go, shoo! Out of my sight. And remember, I want
you here bright and early tomorrow morning looking just as gorgeous as
you are now.....only with slightly drier underwear and trousers. Go on,
get out," she said as she virtually pushed me out of the door and into
the night.
Hester
- 25.07.2021
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