Cathairsis (Part 4) by Fantasy Weaver

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Hello everyone! It's been a little longer getting this chapter out as this was the first of the "picture" chapters that make up this story. Meaning, it's got a lot of action going on, a lot of things to build upon and dialogue to flesh out. This entire chapter is almost as long as all three first parts combined, so you'll have a lot to chew. And to no one's surprise, this chapter didn't fit in its entirety due to the character limit. Therefore, part four and part five are meant to be read as a single chapter.

If anyone had any doubts this story was going to be sexual (have you read the first parts?) then your doubts will be put to rest here. I urge those who like a somewhat longer haircut to stay (I mean, who are we kidding, it's still going to short, but bear with me). And to those who don't like sadism, maybe skip this. Maybe skip this story in fact. Or stay! You might find you'll enjoy yourself.

Part four of "Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology". Please read the previous parts for context.

-Fantasy Weaver.


Note

1: Foul language ahead

2: Adult content ahead


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Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology

xox

Picture 1 - A Crack in the Mask of Man - Part 1

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Getting work done after seeing Rah again proved to be difficult; with new information and imagined scenarios taking place in Aden’s head at all hours of the day, concentration was fleeting, to say the least.

The very same night when he had come back home from their meeting, Rah had texted him through his personal cell to verify his number. He had changed the new contact’s name to "Rah Hemlock" in his own cell. Ever since that first text though, the barber had remained silent on his end. Aden knew he should expect an appointment date soon, but his uncharacteristic anticipation for it was new to him.

Between his normal photo shoots, editing and other work-related stuff, Aden had done some more research on his own. He didn’t know how many hours he sunk into articles about BDSM, power exchanges and figuring out where they overlap with trichophilia, and at this point, the number would probably shock him if he did set his eyes on it. Rah’s words had helped guide his research in a better direction, and he found himself reading about the different types of exchanges that can happen between a dominant and a submissive.

The way Rah had spoken of it, Aden didn’t think it was what many sites defined as a "Total Power Exchange", but some elements of the scene seemed to follow the barber’s partners outside the secure walls of the den. He wanted to ask what kind of dynamic was involved, but he didn’t want to seem nosy. Knowing Rah, he probably wouldn’t mind telling him, but…

He had continued his research on trichophilia, and there was one aspect that he hadn’t really considered in the broad spectrum of the fetish, and that is that, as humans descended from primates, there are some mannerisms that have been retained in the brain from those long-ago times. Most intriguing to him was grooming behaviors. Primates, and many other animals, receive beneficial chemical signals to the brain when being groomed by another, and humans are no different. Some just take it up to the extreme. It made sense now why trichophiliacs enjoy getting their hair touched or being the one doing the touching.

The other thing he finally got around to reading on was how trichophilia, or more explicitly to the situation, a haircutting fetish, develops in a person. A lot of it has to do with things happening in childhood, just as Rah had said, but not always and, most notably, when it came to MEN specifically, there was nearly always one constant:

An irrational fear of emasculation.

In this case, hair is directly related to a man’s, well, manliness. It could go either way: taking away one’s hair makes one less masculine, as though the act of cutting or shaving hair is like a metaphorical castration, therefore having long hair means being a perfect male specimen. But it could also be the contrary; long hair can be seen as effeminate, and thus, to become a true man, one must have short hair, or, drastically, a shaved or bald head.

Such black and white views were foreign to Aden. The thoughts could only lead to toxicity in the long run. Then again, he doesn’t have a haircut fetish. The obsession with length may as well be alien to him, but to the ten men whom Rah lords over, it’s integral who they are.

He had to keep that in mind during the shoots, no matter how odd or weird they may seem to him. They get satisfaction submitting themselves to the barber, get the itch scratched in a safe way that puts no one in danger or harms them. So long as things didn’t devolve into obsessive-compulsive disorders because of it, Aden saw no reason to turn his nose up and yuck someone else’s yum.

Though it did make him wonder…was Rah also afflicted by this? The man hadn’t said so outright, but to indulge so many men in their pursuits of gratifying haircuts, he had to be somewhat attracted to the concept, no? Being a barber and being a dom were two things, and putting them together doesn’t necessarily make it so Rah has to have a fetish, does it? Aden didn’t think he was doing this just because of his skills, however. How he spoke of those men, how fond he seemed of Conor’s red hair, impressed with Emiliano’s, even how he looked when talking about his "darling" Aimé, told Aden so much without needing to be explicit. Rah also, the photographer was certain, must get some form of satisfaction from his actions.

This must have been the fiftieth time the inquiries had broken through to the forefront of his mind. Aden tried to dislodge them from his head as he prepared himself a ribeye on his little barbeque on his patio. The scent of grilled vegetables and meat permeated the air. In his neighbors’ yards, similar scenes were probably taking place; he could hear the kids across the street playing some game outside, the chatter of people having a drink a few houses down.

After a while, Aden was sitting on his small wrought-iron table with its singular chair, eating contentedly and drinking some lemon-lime soda (that may or may not have been spiked with vodka).

He wondered, as he ate alone in his yard, if Rah’s submissives were more than just guys he liked to f*** and fool around with. Did he do things with them other than BDSM and feverish sessions in the devil’s barber chair? He snorted. What did he expect him to do with them? Go out for ice-cream?

Hm. Maybe. It wasn’t impossible that their - was relationship the right word? - extended beyond just the dom-sub dynamic. Maybe Rah did bring them out to eat, on dates, to the park, doing some innocent, casual activity that didn’t end with the other guys squirming around in leather cuffs. As intimidating and unfriendly as the dark clothes and direct personality made him seem, Aden hadn’t found the man to be malicious or lacking in social skills or affection - though that last one, he didn’t need to know personally (the man had shown that enough through his descriptions of his boys). Maybe Rah was sentimental. Maybe he was a cuddler. Maybe he had a collection of stuffed animals in his bedroom.

The thoroughly funny image made Aden smile around a bite of asparagus and peppers. Nah, he couldn’t see Rah laying in a pile of teddy bears. A pile of rainbow-toned dildos? Certainly.

His phone buzzed on the table, rattling against the iron. A new text message. From Rah.

"Lucas is available on the 11th, at 1pm. If you need to set stuff up, you can come a bit earlier. Think we can make it an appointment?"

Aden only answered after finishing his meal and checking his schedule. He had other appointments, in the morning till’ eleven, then later that day, from 4:30pm. He had to eat lunch too. Three and a half hours should be enough time, right? He checked again to make sure. Tuesday. In two days.

He texted back, "I’m free from 12:30 to 4, if that’s good enough for you. At your barbershop?"

A minute, and an answer.

"I’ll be waiting for you."

XXXXX

True to his word, Rah was indeed waiting in the shop.

Aden thought it funny why the navy curtains were drawn over the window when he arrived, but when Rah finally opened the door to let him in with his various equipment, he had understood pretty quickly why they were.

Rah was at the very least wearing his leather jacket for now, but underneath the unzipped front, Aden’s honeyed eyes were helpless to keep themselves from roaming the barber’s exposed chest. The tattoo he had only glimpsed at before was now on full display, feathers and floral patterns continued here in a symmetrical design that covered the man’s collar bones, with faint hints of pale blue and red.

However, the piece that really interested him, covering the man’s breast in dark black ink, was partially covered up and indistinct.

Rah was wearing some kind of leather harness that framed his pectorals with heavy, dark strips of material and metallic buckles. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail again, but there was one small braid breaking the monotony of silky raven locks. The leather pants were back, but these were covered on the lengths of the legs with similar straps to those that adorned Rah’s polished boots.

Something was off about those pants, he decided. But what…

Rah seemed to realize Aden was staring at his outfit, but instead of covering up, he just grinned that boyish smile and pulled at the lapels of his jacket. "How do I look?"

The smugness in that low voice almost irritated Aden, mostly because, despite the unorthodox clothing, Rah looked good. More than good. It was like his body was made to be encased in dark hide and glinting metal. But instead of acknowledging the question, Aden averted his gaze elsewhere, annoyed to find his neck prickling with heat. "Didn’t know you were going to dress in that."

Rah released his lapels, chuckling once as he leaned on the barber chair. "I’m dressed for the occasion. I have to look my best for the pictures, and my boys," he added slyly.

‘It’s part of the project. You agreed to this. Suck it up now’ the little voice in Aden’s head reminded him. Rah could be so intimidating when you don’t know him, but he’s starting to see the playful side more and more, and it nearly gave him whiplash. What happened to the Rah that was blunt and direct from their first meeting? Gone. He breathed once, finding his distraught reflection in the mirror across the shop, and focused his gaze back on the barber, "You said I could set up my equipment?"

Rah helped him get everything down to the den, from his tripod to his camera bag to some portable lights. It was odd, being back in the red-lit space, with its many tools of unknown pleasures or pains. After initially refusing to be part of Rah’s project, he had never thought he would see the place again, with its floggers, paddles, spanking bench and anchor points, and of course, the throne where the first boy - Lucas - would endure his transformation at the hands of Rah. His Master.

Aden had read up enough about the subject now to not be as queasy and ignorant as before, but the sights never failed to make him nervous. He shouldn’t have been, all things considered. It’s not like he’s the one that Rah was about to degrade.

Why did that thought make an alien warmth settle in his abdomen?

As the photographer unzipped his various carrying bags and set up his tripod near the dubious barbering station, he did a survey of the area, coming to the conclusion that during the weeks he and Rah had not spoken, the barber had finished rearranging his den. The blank wall where the eventual portraits would hang now had smooth, long black drawers on either side and a sleek, curved lounging couch of sorts in the middle.

He shouldn’t have been as interested as he was in the contents of the room, nor should he be flicking his eyes to Rah’s form as the man moved about the space to prepare his own things, but he couldn’t help it. As he adjusted his lights on either side of the station, he observed Rah in his natural element.

He had failed to notice before, but on the newly bought drawers, placed in rows on five on each, were ten distinct collars.

Rah reached for one to the right of the couch, holding it loosely between his fingers.

Rah’s eyes snapped to him, and Aden quickly returned his focus to the lights, adjusting the temperature to match the warm tone for the ones already present in the room.

The fall of Rah’s heavy boots on the floor approached him, and his soft voice followed shortly after, "Before Lucas gets here, I should tell you what you’re going to see." Aden turned his face to the man, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest under that harness, how the leather bit into the tattooed skin. "I don’t want to surprise you with anything."

Aden finished adjusting the lights, moving over to his camera on his tripod, brushing past Rah along the way. "I think I’ll be surprised no matter what happens, but please, go on."

"That’s probably true," the other admitted with a half-smile, ignoring the heavy note of sarcasm in the photographer’s voice. "But at least I want you prepared. Mentally."

Aden nodded automatically, adjusting the ISO and shutter speed on his Nikon. He looked through the objective, taking some test pictures, Rah’s form invading the experimental shots.

"Aden."

He stopped, face whipping up to the other. "What?"

Rah was leaning against the seat, had that annoyed look in his eyes, one Aden had seen on a few separate occasions before, when he had gotten snippy with the man. There was something else though, like…exasperation. Fatigue. But patience too. Saintly, worried patience. "Tell me if this isn’t working for you."

Confusion etched itself onto his face. He passed a hand in his hastily tied brown locks, finding it difficult to hold Rah’s imploring gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

Those brown eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "…Promise?"

Words so similar to the last time they were here. He almost couldn’t stand the sense of déjà-vu. "I’m fine," he stated more forcefully.

At Rah’s continued stare, he turned back to fixing the settings on his camera. F***, the tests were too dark.

A sigh reached his ears, and the sound of the barber walking away came shortly thereafter. What was with Rah? Had he said something wrong, or did he really look so stressed out that the man could see it? Anyone would be, in his place. It’s not like he’s ever assisted to some sensual haircutting thing before, or had to take pictures in this sexually-charged environment in the past.

A heavy sound met his ears from his right, where he chanced a look at his companion. Rah had sat himself on a studded wooden chest - one Aden recalls held bondage rope - and was studying him as he continued to fiddle with his camera. The way Rah sat and held himself, shoulders hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together around the collar; his posture spoke of restraint. Aden could see so many things in those brown eyes, so many words that Rah held under lock and key.

And as was becoming par for the course, the barber kept his musings secret, and brushed over their tense interaction. "My boy should arrive soon," he said, doing as he had stated he would and telling Aden how things would work. "I’ve already negotiated a scene with him, and today, that means he’ll be arriving here and following my orders while you wait for him to be seated."

His camera settings were good now. Leaning back from his tripod, the photographer simply nodded, urging Rah to continue.

"You are only to take pictures once my boy is in the chair," Rah indicated the leather seat, "and unless I speak to you directly, I would prefer if you stayed quiet. You will also not speak to my sub or answer any questions they may ask of you unless I permit them to talk with you."

Aden felt his lips pull on a scowl. "If your partner isn’t placed right in the chair or I need to make adjustments, I won’t be allowed to speak?"

Rah shook his head, "No, no, that’s only for before I put Lucas in my chair. Once he’s strapped in, you may speak. Though, I would like any inquiries or remarks to be directed to me. I will be the one in control, after all."

"In control of Lucas."

Rah’s brow shot up, and Aden cursed his quick tongue. The words had spewed out without his conscious thought. "Yes. In control of Lucas," the man agreed softly, after a moment.

Words got stuck in Aden’s mouth. He gave a terse nod instead.

The barber held up the collar in his hands then, "Do you know what this is?"

Honey-colored eyes stared at the tanned leather. It was a warm, medium brown, with a brass ring and hardware. "It’s a collar," he breathed.

An approving smile. Was Rah surprised he had done his research? "Yes. But it’s more than that. It’s…a mark of ownership." At Aden’s uncertain look, he elaborated cooly, "Many dominants use collars to mark a submissives as theirs. While my boys wear their collars, their body is my body, their hair is mine to do with as I please, and their orgasms are given or taken away at my whim. This," he let the collar dangle off his right index finger, "Is my control."

Aden could feel his heart in his throat. The collar never left his sight once during the explanation.

His eyes went back to Rah’s own dark ones, intrigue sketched over every one of his handsome features. "Do you have a collar on, Aden?"

A hand subconsciously reached for his throat. Redirecting at the last second, it went for his nape instead, where he ruffled his hair in agitation. It took just about every bit of willpower he possessed to answer the other, and when he did, it was in a strained whisper, "No."

Rah leaned back, putting the collar on the chest beside him. "Then I don’t control you."

The statement had no right to reassure him like it did.

A notification from Rah’s phone had the man glancing at his cell. "Lucas is here." He stood swiftly from the chest, pointing behind Aden. "There’s a stool you can use to sit. If you still need to prepare things, you have a bit of time. I have to get Lucas ready anyway."

Aden found the stool, giving Rah a quick nod. "Sure. Thanks. Um, when can I get him to sign the consent form?"

"Put it out on the barbering station. I’ll see to it that it’s done." Rah went for the stairs, but before he took the first one, he turned back to the photographer. "Oh, and Aden?"

"Yeah?"

Without an ounce of hesitation, "Lucas is going to strip down. Thought you would want some fair warning."

Aden had thought he might be spared the complete nudity for today. He sighed. "Thank you."

Rah hesitated for a moment more by the stairs, his eyes boring into Aden’s own. "I’m sure you’ll do great."

Aden’s eyes widened, and before he could say anything, Rah had already left.

An agitated sigh emitted from his mouth. There was no backing out now. Resolutely, the photographer did some last adjustments. He left the consent form on the counter space as Rah had asked, and as he did, he noticed some new items the barber had laid out on it: a folded, striped sheet of some kind, something black and rubbery and some rolled towels.

Honeyed eyes slipped to the cuff-littered barber chair with its peculiar seat.

He didn’t know why he approached it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before. Still…his right hand reached out to touch it, fingertips hesitantly sliding over the leather upholstery. It was soft, in a way. He wondered how comfortable-

He snapped his hand away as though the material had burnt him. What was he thinking?

Aden nearly jumped out of his skin when footsteps began descending the staircase, and he went back to his stool, sitting on it a little more clumsily than he would have liked. ‘Christ, get your act together before they see you like this’ he fumed to himself, smoothing out the cotton of his pale blue button-up. He tried to keep his breathing even, awaiting the moment Rah would appear with his submissive.

At last, the two men appeared from the entrance, and as Rah lead his companion to a spot in the middle of the room, Aden let himself observe the new face.

So, this was Lucas. He was shorter than Rah, though most people are, so that wasn’t exactly surprising. He was a little stockier though, had larger muscles in a way that suggested he might work out. As Rah faced the man, Lucas briefly turned his face to Aden, allowing him to see his features more clearly. Stubbled and square-jawed, with traditionally masculine traits, and wavy, dirty blonde hair that reminded the photographer of the stereotypical beach-dwelling surfers, with hard blue eyes that held only a hint of trepidation in them.

"Eyes forward, boy."

Lucas snapped his head back, and Aden felt a tremble begin in every one of his extremities.

Rah had ditched his leather jacket, now only wearing the harness to cover his upper body, but even without the outfit, Aden was certain he would be just as intimidating. He had complained before that Rah went from one extreme to the other, and that was true yet again.

He watched him. Shoulders squared, back held straight, standing confidently in his den, he was the very picture of a BDSM Master. Every one of his breaths commanded authority, and his hardened face demanded utmost respect and reverence. To him. It was little wonder why Lucas looked mildly nervous, why he had responded so eagerly and without hesitation when Rah had spoken that order by doing nothing more than raising his voice. He hadn’t shouted or barked the words, just spoken them firmly and without room for disobedience.

This man was worlds different from the Rah Aden had begun to know. This was the Master of the barber’s den.

"Lucas," Rah began softly, left hand resting limply on his hip, "Last time we saw each other, you expressed your desire for a more masculine body."

"Yes, Master," Lucas responded, in a quiet baritone that must have sounded nice, if he hadn’t been nearly whispering the words.

"What were the instructions I gave you, boy?"

Aden watched silently from the stool. Lucas held his Master’s eyes steadily. "To work out four times a week for eight weeks, Master. And to tell you when I did," he added quickly.

An approving hum from Rah. "And you did." Rah crossed his arms on his chest, one black brow raising. "But let’s see the results now. Strip."

There was a small hesitation on Lucas’ part. His blue eyes slipped between Rah and Aden, who decided that now was a good time to pretend he had adjustments to make on his Nikon.

"Look at me, boy."

Aden knew the command wasn’t for him, but he was helpless not to flick his gaze to Rah anyways. Lucas looked like he was dreading being seen naked by someone other than the barber, but he never said a word of this.

His Master tapped a finger on one tattooed elbow. "Is HE your Master?" Rah indicated Aden with a jerk of his head, and suddenly Aden wished he could melt into the ground.

"…No, Master."

"No. I didn’t think so. So, why are you looking at him when your Master has given you an order?" Rah’s voice had an edge to it, a promise of something sinister if his request was not heeded.

He thought he saw Lucas swallow. "Embarrassment, Master."

The photographer’s eyebrows shot up. Lucas had been willing to admit that out loud to Rah? In his place, Aden doubted if he would have even opened his mouth to speak. ‘Stop thinking like that’ he told himself firmly, shoving the thought out of his mind.

A small smile graced Rah’s full lips, breaking the stony exterior of his face, soothing Lucas with the simple gesture. "I don’t think my boy has any reason to be embarrassed about his physique. Are you saying that your Master has not done a good job with it?"

"No, Master," was the immediate response, but it was as quiet as all the rest.

An approving nod. "Then show me the body I have cultivated."

This time, the hesitation was brief, and Aden tried to keep his eyes to himself as Lucas removed his clothes, starting with the plain grey cotton tee, his cargo shorts, the sandals on his feet. Everything he took off, he folded and set aside under his Master’s watchful gaze. Rah had taken to circling him like some predator, heavy boots falling with a dampened thud to the floor with every slow step. Finally, Lucas removed his red boxer briefs, putting these with the rest. Even the silver chain necklace he wore was removed and set on top of his laundry pile.

Rah stood before him again, eyes roving the man’s nude form with keen interest. His tanned hands lifted, held Lucas’ shoulders, and then, they slipped down, caressing the lightly furred skin and taut muscles of his boy’s pectorals. Aden had to turn his face away when Rah squeezed the man’s breast, teased his two brown nipples, and let one hand venture further down to-

He was hot, from nerves or the sights, he could only venture to guess.

"See how eagerly this body responds to my touch. It knows no embarrassment; so why should you?" Rah asked lightly, his tone conveying his praise.

As much as he tried, Aden couldn’t stop his eyes from taking in the scene before him. No manner of fidgeting with his camera or twirling his thumbs together was helping. All he could do, was watch and wait.

"Kneel."

A shiver went down Aden’s spine.

That muscled body sunk to the floor, but Lucas’ eyes remained focused on his Master’s face above him, even when Rah moved so close to him that the barber’s crotch was practically in his face.

"Bend your head, boy."

The barber’s hands were at Lucas’ head, gently urging him to lean his head forward, pressing it against his covered groin, exposing his boy’s neck. Rah brushed the sandy locks aside, and, after retrieving the collar he had left on the chest, brought it up to Lucas’ throat. Honeyed eyes took in every detail, every subtle movement Rah made with his hands as he placed the collar that marked Lucas as his around the man’s throat. With the soft clinking of metal, and an experimental tug, Rah nodded to himself, satisfied.

‘Surrender of control’ Aden’s mind conjured up from the darkness engulfing it. That’s what Rah had said. The collar is his control, an extension of his will. He wondered what poor Lucas must think whenever he gave up his autonomy to Rah through that leather shackle. Was he stressed at all? Or did the collar somehow rob him of even those thoughts?

Clearly, he got enjoyment from this, as it was getting increasingly harder to look away from Lucas’ arousal.

Rah grabbed the back of his boy’s head, lightly fisting the shoulder-length locks, using them to lift Lucas’ face to his. The jock looked a bit breathless, now that his face had been pressed into the other’s crotch. Rah’s fist tensed around the sandy hair.

"Tell me boy," he began, dark eyes inquisitive slits, "What do you think of all this hair?"

Lucas tensed at the inquiry. Aden’s own interest caused him to listen intently now. This question was surely what would lead Lucas to sitting in the barber chair. It didn’t take a genius to know that. But whether because of that knowledge or not, the scene taking place became one, not only of preparation, but of tense foreplay; a glimpse at what would ensue, should Lucas respond correctly, Aden assumed.

Lucas searched for his words. "It…I believe it makes me look good, Master."

"Why?"

Lucas flattened his lips together. His blue eyes stayed firmly imprisoned by Rah’s as his answer came, "I think it makes me look manly, Master."

Rah scoffed at that, lips pulling on something akin to a sneer, though it felt less malicious than amused. "Do you, now?" Aden followed the barber’s movements as he bent down to hover his face above Lucas’ own, lips inches from the other man’s, so close it would take but a mere tilt to lock them together. "You think all of these pretty golden locks make you look more masculine?"

"Yes, Master." His response was as quiet and direct as before.

"Oh, Lucas…" Rah shook his head.

Aden turned his face aside just as Rah kissed his submissive.

When Rah’s voice broke through the silence after, it was as hard as steel.

"It doesn’t suit you."

The photographer knew then that his face must have betrayed just as much surprise as Lucas’. Those ocean-blue eyes widened only fractionally, but on the jock’s stoic face, it may as well have been comically exaggerated. Even the barely-there tremble in his voice as he said "What?" may as well have come from a speaker blasting in the quiet room.

"Come on now, Lucas," Rah smirked, tugging the locks in his fist, "You would have to be blind to not see how bad it looks on you." Rah’s other hand caressed Lucas’ stubbled jaw tenderly, "You’re hiding your best features behind that haircut."

"But…you’re the one who cut it- Agh!"

Aden cringed; Rah roughly pulled Lucas’ hair, tilting his head back so far, his neck must hurt. Rah was up in his face, dark eyes almost glaring down at him from beneath sooty lashes. "Yes. I did. Wasn’t that nice of your Master?" He pulled harder, Lucas’ breath catching, schooling his features as thought trying to show the pain was nothing to him. "Do you remember how you came to me, a year ago?"

"…Yes, Master."

"Really? Because I think you need a reminder, boy."

Aden wondered what the barber was going on about, but his train of thought derailed when Rah stood straight. He let go of his sub’s hair, opting instead to drag him to his feet by the brass ring of his collar. Rah brought Lucas towards the barbering station. Honeyed eyes tried to look at anything but the approaching men, but with little else he could focus on, he had no choice but to face them.

Rah placed Lucas two feet from where Aden sat, right in front of the barbering station. The photographer made a point of keeping his gaze above the belt, finding it less awkward to look at Rah than his strung-up boy. Rah flashed him a wink only he could see. What was he implying with that? That they were sharing some inside joke at Lucas’ expense? So much for feeling like a bystander.

The amused expression disappeared just as quickly though, and soon enough Rah’s face was hard, the line of his jaw unyielding. He crowded the space behind his sub, bringing two long arms to either side of Lucas, pinning him against the set of drawers. The man stumbled, his two hands gripping the station to steady himself as Rah, undeterred by this, continued leaning forward, pressing his leather-bound torso up against his boy’s naked spine, essentially pushing him towards the mirror with every forward-moving inch.

Aden flinched almost as much as Lucas did when a tanned left hand abruptly grasped the stud’s beard-ridden chin, forcing him to look into the mirror. Rah’s eyes were dark in that moment, the photographer saw.

"Take a good look, boy," Rah said, "Take a good. Long. Look. You like your hair the way it is, yes?"

The photographer observed as Lucas’ neck muscles contracted, his Adam’s apple bobbing apprehensively. "…Yes, Master."

"And who was it that made it look so good?"

Lucas refused to answer this time. Though, with his failure to grant a response, Aden worked the answer out on his own, and it was evident from the moment the inquiry had left the barber’s mouth: Rah was to blame for Lucas’ current style. He had said so himself not but a few moments earlier.

"Fu-"

Honeyed eyes returned to the scene before him, where Rah, undoubtedly aggravated by his submissive’s silence, had resorted to gripping the blonde hair at the back of his head with his right hand. "Boy, if you don’t answer me, I will find much more painful ways to pry an answer out of that mouth."

Lucas leaned his head forward, forehead nearly brushing the surface of the mirror-

Aden’s eyes fought to stay at a normal size. Rah yanked Lucas against him by his hair, and simultaneously ground his hips against his boy’s backside with such force that Lucas’ overly-eager cock got caught (in ways that could only be excruciating) between his body and the sharp edge of the barbering station. The entire piece of furniture shook with a resounding clatter, drowned out by Lucas’ pained cry.

‘Holy sh*t, he’s not joking around. This is for real. He’s hurting him,’ Aden marvelled internally. However, the way Rah was acting wasn’t the thing that came as a surprise - he had a feeling the man would be somewhat rough with his boys. What rendered him truly speechless, was Lucas:

Still hard. Blushing red from cheek to chest. Biting his lip against a sound that was anything if not aroused.

"Ha…You…You made me look good. Master."

Rah’s face morphed. He would never forget it. If before, Rah was dominant, now he was positively sadistic. That boyish grin turned into something else when his desires were met, and Aden would be lying to himself, if it didn’t do…things to him.

It was indecent.

It was obscene.

It was sharp-toothed, canines begging to bite into tender flesh.

"I did, didn’t I?" Rah said with a lilt. "All that long, flat hair of yours. Do you miss it? Because I certainly don’t," he hissed. His left hand, no longer holding Lucas’ chin, ventured down his boy’s hairy chest, finding and pinching a nipple until a silent gasp caught in his throat. "What did I do, hm? I was nice. I showed you how to properly wash your hair - without using that three-in-one cr*p you used to clean yourself with. I trimmed your hair, I gave it layers, I showed you how to use products, a hairdryer and a brush to give you volume, and when you told me you were uncomfortable cutting all of your hair short, what did I do, Lucas?"

Aden looked towards Lucas, his own interest piqued in spite of what he was witnessing. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, idling behind his tripod and feeling oddly like a spring getting stretched beyond its conceivable elasticity.

Rah slapped Lucas’ tight six-pack, the stud jumping and panting once before responding, a little more unevenly, yet still as quiet as ever, "You only cut it to my shoulders, Master."

"So, I did," he leaned towards his boy’s left ear, and whispered something Aden didn’t catch in it.

Whatever it was, it made Lucas’ eyes go wider for just a second, but it was enough to indicate to the photographer that, whatever the barber said, it held impact.

"Now," Rah had Lucas’ head turn by his grip on his hair, until those hard blue eyes came face to face with Aden’s own, much more unsure one. "Lucas, say hello to Aden."

Both men looked equally as horrified by the command, for vastly different reasons, but Lucas still managed a strained, "Hello?"

Aden, suddenly at a loss for words, couldn’t find anything to utter in that moment. His eyes slipped to Rah with what no doubt had to be the biggest question marks in the world in them, but Rah just nodded once. His voice currently being out of commission, the photographer did the next best thing, and gave a curt little wave of his hand. Wasn’t he supposed to be a bystander? Why was Rah bringing him into this - more than he already was?

"Good boy," Rah told his sub, and at last, let the man go, allowing Lucas to un-stick his sore dick from the counter. With one tattooed hand, the barber indicated the consent form on his countertop. "Aden’s taking pictures of you today, just like we discussed. If this is too much, you know what your safeword is, and I urge you to use it now if you need to. If you don’t need to," he tapped the paper twice, "You need to sign the consent form, and then…you sit down."

Those last three words had goosebumps rising on Lucas’ skin, so much so the hair on his arms and legs raised with it. And if Aden hadn’t already been sitting on it, he was sure he would have reached for the stool to steady himself.

What the hell was wrong with him? Lucas is the one under Rah’s control, yet even so, the photographer couldn’t help his own thoughts spiralling with every word and every action the barber took.

"…I need a pen, Master…"

Both Rah and Aden looked at the consent forms, where, indeed, there was no pen to be found. For a second, Rah’s dominant mask slipped, and his sadistic smile was replaced with his usual amused grin. "Huh. So, you do. Aden, do you-"

"Yup, uh, yeah." Aden cursed his less than cool demeanor, forcing his legs from the stool to go rummage around in his laptop bag. It took a lot of fumbling and a curse under his breath or two, but he managed to pull out one blue-inked, ball-point pen. He took it over to his stool, and handed it over, "Here."

Rah grabbed the pen gently, face turned away from Lucas, and as the pen slipped from Aden’s grasp, he caught sight of the barber’s lips, free of smirks, smugness or sadism, forming three, voiceless words:

‘Are you okay?’

In that single moment, Aden’s odd nervousness dissipated, replaced entirely with one emotion:

Indignation.

He hardened his features, his lips pulling on the slightest of scowls as he bit back, just as silently, ‘I’m fine.’

Those dark, dark brown eyes narrowed. Rah returned his attention to his sub.

Oh boy, if those eyes could speak…

Aden ground his teeth in his mouth, sitting squarely on the stool, entire body wound tightly not with nerves, but with determination. Rah’s constant worry, the way he handled him with kid gloves, was getting annoying and infantilizing fast. He said he would take the damn pictures, was doing just that; he didn’t need Rah to act like a friend or - God forbid - like his partner, in every sense of the word. This is business, and as nonconform as it may be, Aden did not need this treatment when he’s working. Because that is what all of this is: a gig. Nothing else. He would see this project through, and swore, Rah would not be questioning him again about it.

While he fumed silently away behind his Nikon, Lucas had signed the forms and his Master handed the pen back to Aden without looking at him. Aden took it, stowing it away without a sound - even when the only thing he wanted to do right now was give Rah a strongly-worded warning.

Lucas stood in front of the devious chair, every one of those leather cuffs gleaming in the bulbs from the mirror and the larger lights Aden had set up. The stud still faced the mirror, but his eyes, from what Aden could tell, were studying the reflection cast by that large seat. He hadn’t moved since signing his name. Rah on the other hand was stalking the perimeter of the chair, eyes practically pinning his boy in place with the intensity with which he stared him down.

He stopped right behind it. "Now sit."

There was no denying that order. Lucas fell like a rag doll, barely holding onto the armrests for support. With all that weight being flung into it, the thing should have groaned or creaked or made some noise, but whoever had custom-built that monster of a barber chair had made damn certain it was built to take a beating. It barely moved, never mind make any sound other than the creasing of leather. Strong. Sturdy. It was a monument of power.

Rah’s ultimate tool.

"Very good boy," Rah purred appreciatively, his hands snaking from behind the back of the chair towards the front, meeting his stud’s tense shoulders, and running down slowly, deliberately towards his chest. The hands made their way back up again, on either side of Lucas’ throat. They circled the collar, until the barber’s large hands with their long fingers held his submissive’s face, thumbs tracing slow circles along the prominent corners of his jaw.

Aden, recalling Rah’s words about waiting until Lucas was in the chair before taking pictures, readied himself behind his camera.

Rah, perhaps perceiving the change in disposition, returned to the matter at hand. His hands possessively ran through Lucas’ hair a few times, racking fingernails against his scalp while his boy fought to keep himself composed - though his continuous erection was a sure sign that his non-verbal, tough guy attitude could not last long. The barber gently pushed Lucas’ head aside as he returned to circling the seat.

"Before we start taking pictures," at this, Rah sent a meaningful stare towards the photographer, "I think we need to ensure you’re going to enjoy this. So-"

"May I say something, Master?"

Aden looked up from his view finder, just as Rah raised a brow. For a moment, he was certain Rah would brush off his sub, but surprisingly, he nodded, "Speak, boy."

"I…I know I said I didn’t want my arms restrained but," Lucas paused, those ocean-blue eyes slipping between his Masters’ eyes, to Aden, to the cuffs placed precariously close to his wrists, to his biceps, "if you’re going to give me the cut you said you would…I think I would like to have my arms cuffed."

Rah was not planning on cuffing Lucas originally? Then why in the world would the man ask to be restrained? Why would he hand yet more control over to Rah? Was he mad?

The barber considered the request, face set in concentration. Then, "Why?"

It took Lucas much longer to string together words this time. Rah was patient though, maybe sensing that this was harder for Lucas. Aden couldn’t know for sure. He did recall how Rah had described the man, how he had trouble opening up. Was that why the barber was asking for a reason behind the appeal?

If it was, and Aden was almost certain of it, then that would explain why Lucas was having such a hard time opening his mouth.

"I just…need it."

Rah remained silent.

"Please, Master."

As though those dark irises held a magnetic field around them, Aden’s own eyes found they could do nothing but stare into them, as they gazed into the mirror at the muscled body in that black chair.

At last, one word, uttered low and almost menacingly, reverberated around them. "Safeword."

Oh. Lucas was swallowing and swallowing, those eyes finally expressing something beyond apathy. "It’s ‘Tide’, Master."

That was all Rah needed. Suddenly, he was moving, securing a leather cuff around each of Lucas’ limbs, starting with his arms, as per the boy’s request. He was methodical, precise in his movements. One went around the wrist, another around the forearm, just before the elbow, and another went around those massive biceps. With every cuff, Rah did something which Aden found odd: after tightening them, he passed two fingers between the leather and his boy’s skin.

"You’d better tell me if these are too tight, because once you’re strapped in, you’re staying there for a good, long time, boy. You understand?"

"I understand, Master. They’re not too tight."

Aden watched again. The cuffs, the fingers, the tugs and pulls Rah did. Even as rough as he was, Rah was still…caring for the safety of his submissive. He was firm in doing so, perhaps, but behind the dominance and submissiveness, these two were still human beings trusting each other with something incredibly intimate.

God, what was he doing here?

Rah finished the right arm first, and moved on to the left one. Aden watched a bit more carefully, noticing an odd protrusion on the end of the buckle’s prong. A tiny little steel circle. Funny. He had never seen something like that on any belt before. Was it merely aesthetic, he wondered, or did it serve a purpose? Whatever it was for, Rah had them on all the cuffs. Cuffs which were now firmly placed on Lucas’ arms, whose muscles tensed rhythmically under the pressure provided.

The process repeated with his legs. Aden’s brow furrowed. Every time he looked at that chair more closely, something new would jump in his face, and this time was no different. As Rah busied himself with his boy’s ankles, the photographer noticed the distinct look of the leg and footrests. In any normal barber chair, there would be a pad of sorts connected to the footrest. Here however, that pad, and the adjoining parts, were split down the middle. Two parts.

For two legs.

Could…could Rah part the legs if he so wished?

He didn’t find out. Rah had strapped Lucas’ ankles, legs, and thighs down. He moved onto the longer straps around the back of the chair, and slung them around his boy’s abdomen and torso. All the while, Lucas remained perfectly still, and his face had returned to being rather unfazed, if marred with perspiration.

Aden’s no fool. Those blue eyes may as well have been screaming.

Rah stood directly in front of the chair. He inspected his work, arms crossed over his chest. Lucas fingers were rubbing against themselves, though he didn’t once test the resistance in those shackles. Maybe he knew it was futile. Or, and Aden couldn’t begin to possibly understand how or why, maybe he didn’t want to struggle. Maybe he was content to stay put.

He could never…

No. He told himself he would take pictures. Leave those thoughts behind.

"Comfy?" Rah asked lightly. Lucas nodded, but, "With your words, boy."

"…Yes, Master."

"Excellent. Stay right there for me, yeah?" The barber suggested as he walked away towards a display case further away in the den.

Wow. Rah was that cocky? Aden felt sorry for Lucas. The jock himself flushed a bit at the words. He couldn’t move anywhere even if he wanted to.

Rah came back only a few moments later, carrying…what was that? Aden wasn’t sure. A black cylinder of some kind in one hand and some adjustable poles with a clamp on one end, the kind that the photographer would sometimes use to mount smaller lights in tight spaces.

"Now, as I was saying before you so kindly interrupted me, Lucas," Rah began, sinking down in front of the chair, at his boy’s legs, "Let’s make sure you’re enjoying yourself while I work on that mop of yours, hm?"

Honeyed eyes took in the sight, of Rah, reaching, searching for something to the side of the chair, in its mechanism. The barber’s right hand found it: a small lever on a circular crank.

"Okay, open up."

Aden’s brow shot up, as, with swift turns, Rah began to rotate the crank, and as he did, those odd leg rests parted inch by inch by inch.

‘Called it,’ he told himself, but whatever satisfaction he got from the knowledge quickly got replaced with the budding of nerves. He wanted to stay impartial. He needed to, if he wanted to do this, but as angry as he had been with Rah’s continued worry about him, now he couldn’t help but let that anger simmer down. If the man was opening up those leg restraints, then that could only mean one thing.

Lucas must have known it too, for his erection only intensified.

Rah stopped, and made another half turn backwards until a resounding click indicated the position had been locked. Lucas’ legs were now parted at an angle. Though not a terribly uncomfortable one, it was still wide enough to see, well, almost everything. But Rah wasn’t done. He reached between the newly disconnected legs and brought his adjustable pole to a spot underneath and clamped it somewhere Aden couldn’t see. Then came that black cylinder-

Ah.

Aden understood now.

It was as Rah was mounting the thing on the articulated pole that he realized what it was. The barber had angled it his way slightly when picking it up, and inside, fleshy silicone greeted the eye. It’s a masturbator. ‘And it looks expensive’ Aden thought. Sleek, with flat buttons and parts made to be mounted like Rah was doing now, putting it directly in line with Lucas’ thoroughly excited cock.

"You’re being awfully quiet, boy," Rah murmured as he left the mounted toy to reach into one of the barbering station’s drawers. "You want to tell me what’s going on underneath all that hair?"

Alas, Lucas remained tight-lipped.

Honey-colored irises found Rah beside him, and on the man’s face, an expression of exasperation had taken over those hard features. He sighed from his nose and closed the drawer a little more forcefully than necessary. "Fine. If you’re going to be this way, Lucas, then I’m glad I have you strapped down."

As Rah turned around with a bottle in his hand, both Lucas and Aden wondered what the man was going on about. Aden didn’t speak, as per his agreement, but surely the jock had something to say to that, no?

The barber approached his sub, standing between his parted legs, careful to no knock the toy out of place. Lucas had his eyes turned towards his lap, as though unable to meet that chiding gaze. As his Master opened the bottle cap and poured out its contents in his right palm - what Aden could only assume to be lube by its thick consistency - Rah continued to fill the silence with his harsh words, "I was planning on being understanding. I was planning on being nice, again, because I know how hard it is for you. But not anymore."

Abruptly, Rah wrapped his hand around Lucas’ cock and pumped hard.

The effect came instantly: Lucas bit his lip in an effort to suppress the moan building up in his throat. Aden could hear the air hissing from the jock’s nose and the jangle of many cuffs as that muscled body struggled against them.

The pleasure didn’t last. Rah let go just as suddenly, face as hard as steel. "No, Lucas. This time, we’re going to talk."

Aden wondered just how, exactly, Rah would get his boy to speak, but his train of thought got cut off by one quick glance from the man.

"You can start taking pictures if you’re ready."

With the little control Aden had, he finally managed to break through whatever nervousness still ate away at his gut. He indicated the chair. "Can you turn him towards the camera a bit?"

Lucas looked rather mortified behind that stoic mask of his, but Rah was uncaring. "Give me a moment, and I’ll do that for you."

The photographer hunched himself behind his Nikon. With one tanned hand around the base of his sub’s hairy cock, Rah positioned the masturbator over the swollen head, pushing the toy downwards until all of Lucas’ erection was swallowed up inside it’s velvety confines. From a hook on the other side of the counter, Rah produced a black towel and wiped his hands of lubricant and then, as per Aden’s request, one booted foot pushed the foot-lever at the back of the chair to unlock it. Discarding the towel to the counter, he turned his tied-up sub towards Aden.

"Like this?"

Aden looked through his viewfinder, trying his best to ignore the lewd display. "Do you want him to be facing the mirror?" The question was genuine. Since this was a scene in which Rah would be cutting Lucas’ hair, and with both men’s penchant for the action in mind, Aden wanted to make sure that they were satisfied in the moment, and after, when they would view the portrait. He could be mad at Rah all he wanted, he was still a paying customer.

Those brown eyes flashed with understanding. "Not necessary. Lucas can see his face after. It’s not like he has any say anyway, right boy?"

What a cruel taunt. And yet, Lucas took it and stayed, to no one’s shock, dead silent.

Aden ignored the pitying twist in his stomach. "Then can you turn him a bit more towards me?"

With a minute more of adjusting and making sure the line of sight wouldn’t be blocked by anything, be it Rah moving around the chair or anything else, Aden nodded and told the barber he was ready.

"Alright then…" Rah reached into his back pocket for something, and with a flick of his wrist, Lucas broke his silence to jump and grunt.

Behind the lens, Aden took a few shots of Lucas’ current predicament. Part of his own process for taking portraits is getting to know his subject’s features, so these first few shots are like testing the waters before dipping his body in. What had Rah done to make his boy startle so bad though? He lifted his head, and found the source of the issue: a slim, tiny black remote slipped from the barber’s right hand back into his pocket. A distinct humming came from the toy between the jock’s legs. The photographer put two and two together, and assumed that Rah had turned the toy on. Was it vibrating, perhaps? It would explain Lucas’ sudden change in demeanor.

"Lucas, let me tell you something," Rah began as he busied himself with that black rubber thing Aden had spotted on the barbering station, "When you came to me last year, I knew that it would take a while for you to be open with me."

The thing in the barber’s hand, Aden had seen before. At the usual salon he visited for his annual trim, the stylists would sometimes use weighted collars draped over their patron’s shoulders for especially precise cuts, usually a blunt bob on a woman. This was one of those collars. Rah came behind the chair and draped the thing over Lucas’ heaving shoulders, stuffing the material between the chair and the man’s back, as Lucas was pretty well strapped in.

"Do you know how I came to that conclusion?" Rah asked, reaching for the stripped material on the counter - a pinstripe barber’s cape.

"No, Master…"

Aden focused his camera on Rah for a moment, taking a flurry of pictures as the man whipped the cape around his sub, capturing the flowing movement in stop-motion format. The cloth settled around Lucas silently, covering him from his shoulders to his tibia. The mounted toy disappeared from view, but it’s outline was clearly visible under the cape and a reminder that this would be no ordinary haircut, and here Aden was, assisting to it, aiding in its immortalization.

"You choose now to talk?" Rah observed with a sneer. "Funny that you want to know my thoughts, when you seldom share your own, boy."

‘Ouch’ Aden cringed. The words must have struck some chord for Lucas as well, as he shifted uncomfortably under Rah’s constant glare and the stimuli to his dick. Even if the barber’s eyes were focused on the back of that sandy blonde head, Aden had no doubts Lucas could still feel it, how cold and sharp that reproachful stare was.

In his view finder, Adens’ own irises focused on Lucas’ expression, pupils dilating. And for a moment, he faltered.

His finger was only halfway pressed on the trigger, not deep enough to actually take a photograph.

Those ocean blue eyes flicked up to look directly into his lens.

F***…

How could he do this? He could see everything in that gaze. Arousal, fear, submissiveness, vulnerability, embarrassment, insecurity, lust, pride, all of it. If he pressed on the trigger right now, he would seize those emotions, take them prisoner, make them last longer, long enough for Rah to look back at them, for Lucas to see them and relive this moment in ways far more mortifying than he was currently experiencing.

Why would he not speak? The insecurity in that expression begged the question. A fear of being too emotional? A fear of breaking some stereotype imposed upon him?

Lucas. His terribly male features. His adherence to a certain standard of bodily strength. And all that body hair, how thoroughly ungroomed he was, despite being Rah’s submissive. Rah who, now that Aden thought about it, was practically hairless. The need to look, to act, more manly.

An irrational fear of emasculation.

He didn’t like knowing people so well.

And yet…

Rah pulled the cape around his sub’s throat, just under the collar, and clipped it into place.

Those dark eyes lifted just long enough to pin Aden with an admonishing stare that seared right through the lens.

He pressed the trigger.

Satisfied, Rah ventured towards his tool-laden counter.

XXXXX

Continued in part five.

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