Yesterday I left the door to Master's apartment unlocked. Nothing was taken, but he was very upset with me. So that night he handcuffed and blindfolded me, then had me sit on the bed. "Do you know what I have for you?" he asked.
"No, but close."
"No. Let me give you a hint."
I heard the snick of scissors and jumped. My heart began to pound, but I reminded myself again and again, Master isn't going to harm you. He's not going to cut you. Don't worry - he'd never harm you.
He began running the scissors lightly against my skin. "I don't think you understand the importance of things that belong to me," he said, his voice low and with a hard edge to it. "So I think I should take something important from you..."
I knew immediately what he was talking about and shook my head violently. No, no, no, no, no! My breath came in short, panicked gasps, and I began to tremble. Not my hair! Please, oh please not my hair! He pulled the scissors from my skin and said, "Don't. Move. An inch." I was so frightened! My throat tightened up, and I began to sob a little bit as I felt a gentle tug at my hair and heard the soft snip of scissors. I was paralyzed with terror; I could barely breathe, let alone speak.
Master pulled the blindfold from my eyes and held out his hand: a tiny bundle of hair, no more than a centimeter long, was nestled in his palm. Even though I was relieved that he hadn't damaged my hair, I was still upset that he led me to believe otherwise. Master knelt to look me in the face, saw my tearstained eyes and trembling lips, and pulled me close to comfort me, apologizing.
I never want to do that again.