"Excuse me?"

Clive blinked. "I'm sorry, darling, but I did cover my mouth, didn't I?" Clive shot a warning glare at Trenton, who had been preparing to make some remark about Clive and open mouths in general. Trenton quickly bent over his broom, sweeping a patch of floor that he had cleared of hair clippings five minutes ago. Clive smiled charmingly at the woman in the cosmetologist chair. "It wasn't disinterest, pet, it was simple lack of oxygen." The middle aged woman crooked an eyebrow doubtfully. "You were telling me about that dog you're married to and the dessert cart girl providing him with a bit of off the menu cherry tart?"

She sighed. "Oh, I know he's been unfaithful before, but really. I'm sitting there in the middle of Lorimar's with two place settings and no dinner companion in evidence, the object of pity for all the other diners, while he's tearing off a piece in the supply closet." She shook her head. "I've had enough. I think I'm going to..."

"No, dear. I listened to what you were contemplating, and I must advise you that it would not be a good idea to neuter him. Oh, theoretically and ethically it's an excellent idea, but practically? No. The courts take a dim view. But I tell you what..." Clive took out a small notebook and clicked his pen with a flourish, beginning to write. "I'm giving you the number of an excellent divorce lawyer, a personal friend of mine. He can remove your spouse's balls financially, and from what you tell me that will hurt him much more than the physical damage would. And you're absolutely entitled. There are such things as open relationships," he tossed Trenton a look that was a bit fonder than the other one had been. "but the door has to swing both ways. If both partners are interested, fine. If only one is... Well, it's just old fashioned cheating, then. Bettina, precious, trim those bangs. The lady has that English sheepdog effect going on."

That bit of instruction passed on, Clive fastened his eyes on Trenton and strode to the back of the store to meet the boy. "You were thinking of making a comment back then, dearest?"

Trent looked down with a slight smile. "No, not at all."

"Good."

"But I was wondering about that yawn. If you weren't bored, what was it?" Clive examined his nails. "Clive, how late were you up on the 'net last night?"

"None of your business."

"New chapters got posted, huh?"

Clive sighed. "Three different works-in-progress with new chapters, and a couple of short stories, and then I made the mistake of doing an author search for Scribe on fanfiction.net."

Trenton rolled his eyes, grinning. "Oh, man! There's a ton of stuff there, and I know you. You couldn't just read a little, could you? You gorged yourself worse than I did that time you bought me the box of Guinniver chocolates, didn't you?"

Clive frowned. He felt a little sheepish, but he wasn't about to admit that to his submissive. "Perhaps I overdid it a little."

"How late?"

Clive sighed. "It was three am when I looked at the clock the last time, and I read another chapter before I went to bed." He frowned. "You know, I'm more and more suspicious that my Scribe has something to do with the 'net Scribe. After all, we haven't quite figured out all the ramifications of that interdimensional thing. I think she's slipping stuff in, and just won't admit it to me." His eyes narrowed. "I may have to bring it up the next time I have her in the chair."

Trenton considered this. "That should be interesting. Can I watch?"

"We'll ask." yawn "Dear. I think I need a nap."

Trenton's eyebrows rose. "At your age?"

Clive tweaked Trenton's nose. "Your ass is mine, dearest, and I will tan it slightly later on for that remark."

"Maybe I meant that you're still too young to need a nap in the afternoon."

"That's possible, but knowing you, not probable. Anyway, I've earned the right to nap in the afternoon if I wish."

"Yeah, sure. But look, you do remember that you're going to talk to my 'net friend this afternoon at three?"

Clive sighed. "Yes, dear. But you remember that all I promised was to talk. I find it highly unlikely that I'll be inspired to take him on as a client. You know how picky I am."

"I know, I know. But even if you don't take him on personally you can instruct one of the others in the best way to help him out, right?"

"Certainly. Does he have some sort of special problem? Split ends? Bad perm or dye job?"

"Not that I know of. It's just that he's up for a part in a movie, and he has a specific look he's going for."

Clive sighed. "He's going to bring in a photograph and say 'Make me look like this', isn't he? That's usually done by people... For them to get the effect they want, I'd have to shave their head and slap on a wig." Clive paused. "Not that I don't enjoy doing that, too, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. No, what it is, is that they're doing a movie." He shuffled his feet. "Um, well, it isn't exactly mainstream."

"Oh, this sounds interesting. How far up the creek from mainstream is this venture?"

"Well, it's... It won't be playing at the Starland Cinema. Maybe the art house."

"Will this movie feature the undraped human form?"

"Extensively. And the undraped forms will be exclusively male."

"Ah! Now that is interesting!"

"It gets better."

"I don't see how it possibly could, but go ahead and tell me."

"What are your two favorite letters of the alphabet?"

Clive's face lit up. "Trenton! B and D?" Trenton grinned. "I'll have to take a very hard look at this young man."

"It gets better still."

That made Clive hesitate. "How?"

"Clive, you've done a search on Scribe in ff.n, right?" A nod. "Have you run into her Swingers Series?"

Clive blinked. "Oh, you mean that one with that delicious detective couple who keep running into hot men from other television shows?" Trenton nodded. Clive gasped, round eyed. "Not the one with the Mountie?"

"I'm not sure exactly which one, but he's up for one of the parts."

Clive grabbed Trenton and planted a deep kiss. There were titters and wolf whistles, but that didn't shorten the kiss appreciably. Trenton was gasping by the time Clive let him come up for air. "Thank you, Trenton! Well, I'm not going to be able to sleep now, but I'll just go back in my office and rest my eyes a few minutes. Must look fresh for the customers."

Humming happily, Clive went back into his office, hung the 'DISTURB THE DOM AT YOUR OWN PERIL' sign on the knob, and shut the door. He settled himself in the comfortable swivel chair behind his desk and leaned back, happily contemplating the possibilities. Which character would the actor be up for? Jim? Blair? Rafe? Simon? Any and all possibilities were intriguing, though being a Dom he did have his preferences. Even though he'd read some fictions where Ellison was the submissive partner (and very nice they were, too), he just cottoned to Blair so much more in that role. Well, duh. There is the hair issue, after all. Jim even calls him 'Hairboy' now and then.

Despite his anticipation, Clive found his eyelids drooping, and another yawn threatening. Just a catnap, he thought. Just a doze. Five minutes, tops.

He went sound asleep, slumped back in his chair with a smile on his face. Trenton, if he had been foolish enough to have peeked in right about then, would have thought that this was one of the times Clive definitely did not look innocent while he slept.

rapraprap

Clive sat up with a start. "Shit! I didn't think I was that soundly asleep!" He glanced at his clock and frowned, then called, "Trenton Vitelli, if that's you, I'm not going to just tan your butt, I'm going to blister it."

"Uhhh... sorry."

That wasn't Trenton's voice. In fact, it wasn't a voice he recognised at all. Who on earth was foolish enough to ignore the sign? "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Well, we need an appointment, and we were told to ask for you. You're Clive, right?"

"Did you see a sign on this door saying 'Receptionist'? Talk to the girl at the front counter."

"But there isn't anyone at the counter."

"Well, piss. She knows she's supposed to get someone to cover if she has to leave. Just talk to one of the other stylists, there should be someone free."

"Actually, there isn't anyone out here."

"What?" That got Clive up and over to the door. He jerked it open...

...to be confronted by a whole lot of man. All of it very, very nice. Oh, my! That is impressive. Clive took some of the snarl out of his voice as the stranger took a step back. "Excuse me. Did you mean that there was no one who looked like they knew what they were doing? If all you saw was Bettina, that's perfectly understandable."

"Uh, no. I meant no one. As in not a living soul."

"Well, I won't say that's impossible, because very few things are impossible, but it's highly unlikely." The stranger oo, what pretty blue eyes blinked and shrugged.

"All I know is I came in here to see about getting a walk-in appointment for my partner while I take care of some business, and the place looked deserted."

"Not for yourself? Drat."

He smiled. "Well," he ran a hand over short, sleek, dark hair, which grew back from a definitely high forehead. "I don't have all that much use for hair styling these days. Blair is a different story."

Clive froze. "Blair, you say?"

"Sandburg: my partner. He's shaggy all the time, but it's been getting downright unkempt lately, and I told him it was time to tame the mane."

Clive pointed. "Is your name by any chance Jim Ellison?"

Crystal blue eyes narrowed. "It is. How would you to know that?"

"Just a moment." Clive pinched himself, nipping the skin at his wrist sharply. "Ouch! Well, I'm not sure exactly what that proves, but I've about decided what's going on."

Jim cocked his head, regarding him, and said in a low voice, "You know, you didn't have to do that yourself. If you really wanted to be pinched, I could have done it for you."

Clive gave him a smile. "Thank you, but I'm usually on the administering end myself." He indicated the sign, and Ellison nodded in understanding. "Now, if you'll just move that magnificent frame aside for a moment, I'd like to go up front and see what's going on."

Jim let Clive pass and followed him up through the silent, empty salon. He'd been accurate, there wasn't a soul to be seen. And the store was neat and squared away, like it had just opened and hadn't yet had a customer. Clive went behind the front counter while Jim went back around the front.

Clive peered through the front windows. The street outside was eerily deserted, too. That clinched it: this had to be a dream. At this time of day there would have been a steady stream of traffic and pedestrians. He checked the appointment book, and found that all the pages were blank, pristine.

"Well, it doesn't look as if I have any appointments anytime soon, so I suppose I can fit your partner in easily enough."

"Glad to hear it." Jim leaned on the counter and said, conspiritorialy, "He's going to gripe about this, but he knows he needs this, and I'm confident that you'll be able to handle his objections. Your reputation preceeds you."

"Ah. Then you know about the private station, and wouldn't mind me taking him back there?"

"Not at all, as long as he doesn't mind."

Good. From the stories, they're in a committed relationship, but it's as open as the proverbial barn door, and since this is my dream...

The door opened, bell above tinkling faintly, and a Vision came to stand beside Ellison. Oh, and that is capitalized. Woof!

A bit shorter than Clive, he was not quite sturdy enough to be considered chunky, and had smoky blue eyes set in a face that was somehow beautiful without being feminine at all, and... the hair.

The hair!

A fall, a wave, a cascade, a tumble, a... a... a plethora of hair. It fell over his shoulders and reached almost to the bottom of his shoulderblades in a riot of red-brown waves and curls.

"Clive?" Clive didn't respond. The sunlight streaming through the window was picking out the red highlights in his hair. "Yo, Clive." A hand was waved in front of his eyes. He ignored it, focusing on the hair. He thought that had to be at least three feet of hair if it was stretched out, maybe more. "Sandburg, maybe he's a Sentinel. He seems to have zoned."

Clive blinked, coming back to himself. I will not rape him, I will not rape him, I will not rape him. I will damn sure seduce him, though. "No, I just got a little... distracted." He came around the counter, approaching the Vision, and set his voice at 'purr'. "Well, hello, there."

"Uh, hi." Blair darted a look at Jim.

"So, Blair, you want a cut."

"No, not really, but Jim says..."

"That wasn't a question, dear. It was a statement."

Blair took in the high boots, leather pants, silk shirt, and leather vest, all basic black. Then he took in the predatory gleam in Clive's eyes. "Jim? Exactly what have you gotten me into?"

Jim shrugged. "Nothing you haven't been in before, baby boy. No need to thank me."

"Before we go any further I need to take a look at that hair," Clive stated.

Blair took a wary step back. "Fine. Look."

"A close, personal look, dear." He walked behind Blair. "Just hold still a minute."

"Jim?" There was a hint of a whine in his voice, and Clive smiled. Petulant submissives could be a lot of fun.

"Oh, come on, Sandburg."

Clive spent a moment just looking at that lush mass of hair, trying to decide where he'd touch it first. It was like being at a well appointed buffet line: you just didn't know whereto start. Finally he reached out, sliding his hands up under the heavy fall till he found the hairline, and lifted the silky bulk, weighing it in his hands. He shuddered and sighed.

Jim was watching, curious, and he said, "Yeah, I like it, too. But I don't think I like it as much as you do."

"My dear friend, no one likes hair as much as I do." He slowly let the silken tresses sift through his fingers and said wistfully, "I don't suppose I could interest you in a burr?"

Blair yelped and jerked away. Luckily Clive had let go of his hair by then, or the yelp would have been much more heartfelt. Blair scooted behind Jim. "No freakin' way, man!" "Oh, I was teasing! I'd never do that to a healthy crop of hair, it would be sacrilege. But there are some dead ends. You definitely need a trim."

Blair looked up at Jim. "Look, we have a pair of scissors back at the hotel. Give me five minutes in front of a mirror and..."

"You will not!" Both Jim and Blair flinched. Clive didn't raise his voice all that often, but when he did, people paid attention. Clive glared at Blair. "The very idea!" He looked at Jim and snapped, "You should be spanking him right now for even suggesting such a thing!"

Jim turned glittering eyes on Blair. "I prefer to keep the discipline private, but he'll be hearing about embarrassing me, when we get home." Blair swallowed, but Clive noticed a bit of a stir in the crotch of his tight jeans. "Blair, you're going to stop making a fuss about this."

Blair looked down at his feet and mumbled. "Okay."

Jim turned back to Clive. "How much do you think needs to be taken off? I don't want to lose much." He stroked Blair's head. "I won't be able to use it to tie him to the headboard anymore if you take more than a few inches."

Clive smiled. "I knew you were a fun couple." He lifted another handful of Blair's hair, examining it. "I'd say about..." He measured off with his thumb and forefinger. "somewhere around this much. Certainly not any more."

"That'd work. Well..." he went toward the door. "I'll be back later."

Blair started after him. "Jim, I really don't think... Eep!"

Clive had caught him by the collar of his flannel shirt. "Precious, will you just calm down? Hasn't your Daddy ever turned you over to another Dom for a little... mmm... babysitting?"

Blair flushed. "Not alone, he hasn't."

Clive let go of his collar and rubbed his neck soothingly. "It's going to be all right. You haven't really been bad, just a little naughty, a little headstrong. You expect to be corrected when you act up, don't you?"

Blair looked at the floor. "Yes, sir."

"That's much better. The right attitude is so important. But Blair..." Clive took hold of his chin, tipping it up so that their eyes met. "If you truly don't want to do this, then we won't. I'm not interested in an unwilling submissive. Now, do you want to go after your friend, or do you want to stay here and play with me?"

Blair gave him a considering stare. Then he bowed his head, took Clive's hand, and placed it across the back of his neck. "Whatever Master wishes."

Clive gave him a brief squeeze. "What is your safe word, slave?"

"Lupine, if it pleases Master."

"It's a lovely word. Walk back to the door on the right, eyes down."

Clive locked the door, then followed Blair back to his private station, enjoying the show. Blair was putting a little extra twitch in those hips, he was pretty sure. If he walked like that all the time, then his Dom probably had to carry a stick to beat other Doms off him. No, wait. We'd enjoy that.

Blair halted just inside the room, eyes still demurely down. Clive closed the door to the station and walked around the young man, studying him. "You're not new to this, are you, precious?"

"No, sir. May I speak?"

"Oh, you are experienced! The new one's never think to ask for permission. You may."

"Actually, sir, I'm a switch."

"You don't say? I would have pegged you for pure submissive, but I guess even I can occasionally be mistaken. Who do you top?"

Eyes still on the floor, Blair's smile widened. "Jim."

Clive froze, gaping. "Do you mean to tell me that magnificent, testosterone oozing creature bottoms?"

"Not often, sir, but he really gets into it when he does."

"Oh, my. Pardon me a minute while I fan myself. What a mental image you've just given me, child! Well, I'll have to see if I can't talk Jim into a trim later on, or at least a shampoo and condition. Now, then. Take your clothes off."

Blair stripped efficiently, folding his clothes neatly. "I see you don't have to be warned about the clothes, either."

"Jim would skin my butt, sir. He's anal in more ways than one."

"You're a bad boy, Blair."

Clive was standing in front of the young man. Blair didn't lift his head, kept his face tipped respectfully toward the floor, but he peeked up at Clive through his lashes. "Sometimes, yes, sir."

"Eyes down, young man!"

He dropped his eyes quickly. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"You get one, and that's all." He began walking around Blair, studying him with growing appreciation. Blair had reached his physical maturity, but hadn't yet begun the inevitable softing, the subtle drooping and rounding of muscles giving way to gravity. He was a little stocky, just a little. Enough to make him look solid and substantial. Oh, and the hair.

Not just on his head, oh no. The little doll was a BEAR! Not the back (that was a bit much, even for Clive) but he was nicely furred on the chest, with a respectable amount on the legs and arms. The boy wouldn't be able to go a day without shaving unless his Jim didn't mind beard burn.

Clive stopped before him and, reaching out with his pointer finger extended, touched his belly button. Blair's abdomen flexed. *Ah, very responsive. Nice.* There was a treasure trail of hair, just the faintest hint of red in the brown, and he followed it, slowly sliding his finger down, lower and lower, till he reached the top of his pubic bush.

"Now, that's a nice, lush crop of pubes." He lets his finger drop another fraction, brushing along the upper line. "How attached are you to it?"

"Sir?"

"I'm not talking a clean shave, precious. Just a trim. Neaten it up a little. Would Jim mind?"

"I... cut them?"

"Yes or no, Blair. Would Jim mind?" "Well... uh, I don't think I'd better do away with them without asking first, but I guess shortening them wouldn't bother him."

"Excellent." Clive kept up the stroking, gently ruffling the curls. That was all for a moment. Blair thought about asking a question, but decided he'd better not. Clive had said he got one. And what he was doing felt... interesting.

"Well, well." Blair glanced farther down, managing to look without moving his head. He was surprised to see that he was starting to get hard. "I do believe that you're getting interested. At least part of you is." He walked behind Blair, moving up close. Blair felt him press against him, and there was a warm, firm nudge against his rump. "I share your interest."

Clive stepped back and went to his chair. He fiddled with it for a moment, raising one section and lovering another till it resembled a padded table. "Now, up on the chair while I decide what we're going to use."

Blair went to the chair and sat on the edge. Leather. On bare skin. Yowza. And I think I may get leather on bare skin at least one more way before this is over with. If I'm lucky. "Sir? Can I ask a question?"

"You may." Clive had gone to the large, standing cabinet in the corner.

"Is it all right if I watch you?"

"Would you like that, precious?"

"Yes, sir. I like to watch you."

"Flatterer. Yes, you may."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Clive opened the cabinet, and Blair gaspped. "Oh, Damn!"

"That's two, precious. I'm going to have to pink you up a little for that, but that's what you intended, isn't it?" Blair decided that it might be wise to not push too much, too quickly, so he remains silent. "That's what I thought. The first order of business is a nice strap." He reached in and pulled out a wide, thick strip of brown leather. "I think an old fashioned razor strop is appropriate." Blair fidgeted, licking his lips, imagining that across his ass.

"Then we need restraints." He reached into the cabinet, sifting through straps, cords, chains, ropes, scarves. He chose two sets of wide, velvet padded shackles for the ankles. Now, the wrists. Handcuffs? There was a nice assortment. The silver, or the gilded? Possibly the old fashioned black iron ones? Or maybe...

"Oh, yes." He opened a small drawer and reached into it. "I have something very, very special for you, Blair. I've never used this with any of my other playmates, but I think... Yes, I'm sure that she would approve."

He sauntered back over to the chair and deposited his load on the counter. "Why aren't you on your belly, boy?" With the quickness and grace of an acrobat Blair stretched out and flipped over on his belly. "Toes pointed and arms over your head." Blair positioned himself as directed. "Very good. Now, just out of curiosity, how many strokes would Jim give you for that little demonstration when you got a look into my toy chest?"

Blair hesitated. "Five."

Clive's voice was gentle, but it held warning. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

Blair winced. "All right. Ten."

"Don't you feel better for telling me the truth? You get ten, and another ten for lying."

"Clive!"

"Five more for protesting."

"I..."

"And another five."

Blair swallowed. "Thank you, sir."

"Good boy. I'm afraid your haircut's going to be a bit less pleasant that it could be. The sitting is going to be rather uncomfortable. There's a rail across the top of the chair. You might want to hold on to it."

Blair felt around and located the bar, gripping it tightly. Clive dangled the stap over Blair, letting the end tickle against his back. When he trailed it down to his ass, the boy shivered. "Shall I double the strap, or swing it single?"

"Whatever you think best, sir."

"Mm, I'd say doubled. I can control it better than way. We want to keep all the action on that pretty ass and perhaps the back of the thighs. We don't want it licking off into other territories." Clive doubled the strap, taking a tight grip on the end. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will keep count."

"Yes, sir."

Clive started with a medium stroke. It made a flat, popping sound when it struck, and Blair's only reaction was a slight flinch. "One." Another stroke. "Two." Another. "Three."

"All right, I think I've got your measure now." Blair heard a swishing sound, and a stinging line of pain burst across his ass. He yelped in surprise and pain. "I said count, dear."

"Four, sir." Clive swung the strap in a slow, steady rhythm for another twenty strokes. By then Blair felt like his ass had been tattooed: it stung as if he'd had a million pinpricks. He was very, very hard.

"You should see your ass, darling. It looks like two scoops of strawberry ice cream. When I'm done I'll hold the mirror so you can admire it yourself. Now I think it's time to really begin the ass whipping."

Alarmed, Blair said, "What do you mean, begin?"

Clive chuckled warmly. "Oh, precious, you didn't think that was the best I could do, did you? When I'm done you'll look more like raspberry sherbert. One more time, hang on. This is going to smart."

The strap didn't swish this time, it whistled. It hit Blair's flesh with a popping sound like a firecracker going off. "Yow! Twenty-five." Crack "Ow! Twenty-six. Oh, geez, this is worse than the time I did his wash with my new red T-shirt and he ended up with pink jockeys."

"I happen to like my own pink silk boxers, but then I chose them." Crack.

"Twenty-seven!" Now it felt like someone was rubbing alcohol into the pinpricks. CRACK. "Twenty-eight!" He couldn't hold back a whimper.

"Oh, you're very brave, pet. Two more. If you take them without crying out, I'll give you a treat. But I warn you, I'm not holding back."

Blair gritted his teeth, sqeezing his eyes shut. There was the hiss of the strap approaching, and pain exploded. Blair jerked hard, but managed to keep from crying out. He just sucked in a huge gasp of air and said, "Twenty-nine."

The last stroke sounded like a gun crack, and Blair knew that he was going to have bruises as well as welts. He didn't scream, but he almost came. It took him a moment to catch his breath, then he managed to push out, "Thirty."

Clive laid the strap aside on the counter, and Blair felt him gently stroking his hair. "You took that beautifully, dear." He got a hand mirror and held it up in front of Blair, just over his shoulder, tilting it. "Have a look." Blair looked. "Your butt looks like two pink pepperment ball with those red stripes, precious. Absolutely delicious. Turn over."

Blair turned over onto his back much more gingerly than he had turned over onto his tummy. When his sore bottom hit the padding he yelped quietly, and Clive rubbed his belly soothingly. "Well, you will be a smart ass, so your ass smarts."

"Thank you, sir, and wouldn't a remark like that have earned me another five strokes?"

Clive looked stern. "It still could." When Blair cringed, he smiled. "Joking, precious. The Discipline portion of our play is done. It's time for the Bondage. Sit up." When Blair did, he lowered the foot section and raised the back section till the chair was in proper sitting form again. He took a pair of shackles and, bending down, he fastened one cuff around Blair's left ankle and the other around the footrail. "This will leave you a little range of movement. Is it comfortable?" Blair tested it, moving his foot, then nodded. "Good." He did the same on the other side.

"Now." He stood up. "Hold out your hands." Blair obeyed, and Clive gently laid his treasure across his palms.

Blair looked down. It was a rope of some kind, a braided rope of redish-brown, a yard, or maybe another six inches long. Blair ran it through his fingers. It was incredibly soft and smooth. "Silk? Satin?"

"Hair."

Blink. "Hair?"

"This is from a very dear friend of mine. Her name is Scribe."

"How many haircuts did it take to get this?"

"One." His eyes closed. "God, it was magnificent. Her hair just foamed and flew. It was halfway down her back when it was wet, but it was so curly that it only reached just past her shoulder blades when it was dry. And see..." He lifted the end of the rope and held it against Blair's hair. "Almost exactly the same shade. Very appropriate."

"You... you're going to tie me up with that?"

"Oh, yes." Clive peered down, smiling. "I see you like that idea. Normally I'd tie your hands to the bar at the top of the chair, behind you, but I want to be able to reach your hair properly, so, wrists together." Blair did as Clive directed. Clive quickly wrapped his wrists together, then tied each end to opposite chair arms. Blair's hands were bound together just over his bellybutton.

He tried the bonds. "That's surprisingly strong."

"I braided it very slowly and carefully." He sighed, looking dreamy. "I must have beaten off a dozen times before I finished it."

"Did you... uh... with the hair?"

Clive smiled seductively. "What do you THINK, precious? He leaned down, his face close to Blair's, and the smile was sly. "Comfy?" Blair nodded, owl-eyed. "Good. I believe I promised you a treat."

Clive bent down quickly and took Blair's cock into his mouth and down his throat in one fell swoop. Blair yelped, and would have come up off the chair if he hadn't been shackled to it. Clive held him like that for a full minute of intense suction, then pulled off, leaving Blair gasping, his once again rigid prick swaying. Clive smacked his lips thoughtfully. "Oh, you do taste good! I may have to do that again before this scene is over."

"Please."

"We'll see." He caressed Blair's chest, tweaking a nipple. "It all depends on how good you are. Now, to that lovely hair."

Clive turned the chair around and pushed Blair, backwards, to the sink. Then he did something with a lever so that the back lowered to an angle. As Blair lay back, his arms stretched almost to the point of discomfort, since his hands were still tied to the armrests, and they didn't move.

Humming to himself, Clive eased a padded towel under Blair's neck ("Strictly for your comfort, precious. It won't make the least bit of difference if you get a little damp, will it?"), then lovingly draped his long fall of hair back into the sink. He started the water, testing it carefully to be sure that it was hot, but not scalding. "All right, sweetie. I usually favor unscented products, but since you're so special, I'll allow you to make a request. Is there any particular scent you favor?"

"Jim likes the herbal stuff I usually use. He can't take anything too strong because of his heightened senses. Besides," Blair blushed. "he thinks my natural smell is sexy."

Clive lifted a handful of curls to his face, sniffing appreciatively before rubbing them against his cheek. "He's so right. I have one with just the tiniest hint of rosemary. How would that be?"

"Terrific."

"Then relax, precious, and enjoy the ride."

Clive wet his hair, squirted a clear, gleutenous liquid into his palm, and began to massage it into Blair's hair. In seconds he'd worked up a thick, mildly fragrant foam. Clive worked slowly, clearly enjoying himself. He massaged Blair's scalp firmly, never once raking with his nails like some hairdressers Blair had encountered. Then he ran his hands the length of the hair, gathering it into a thick hank and sliding it through his hands, stroking it. Blair cut a sideways look as Clive began to rinse him. There was a damn impressive bulge under the thin leather of his fly.

A quick peek at his own crotch told him that he hadn't lost a milimeter of his own erection. "You know, I never really thought of my hair as an erogenous zone."

"Well, you should, doll. Everyone should, but especially you, with that wonderful mane."

"I don't know why I haven't. Jim certainly does. I have to make sure he doesn't zone on the scent, or watching the highlights in it if I stand under a strong light."

"I'm liking Jim better every second." Clive massaged in a generous dollop of conditioner, working it through from roots to tips. "I can't wait to see what this looks like when we're finished. I mean, it was wonderful before, but freshly washed and conditioned..."

"Jim's gonna fuck me through the mattress as soon as he gets me somewhere private."

"Well, precious, if he's in a hurry and he really doesn't want an audience..." Clive sighed, "I don't lend my private station out, but I do have an office."

When he was done with the washing and conditioning Clive spent long, happy moments combing out Blair's tresses. He got a pair of barber shears and meticulously trimmed about a half inch off the bottom. "Dead ends, precious. No good for anyone, except perhaps for stuffing a pin cushion if you're sentimental, or a pillow, if you're kinky, like me. Now, the tempting thing is to use the blow dryer on your hair, to get it done quickly, but I think that would take out some of that lovely curl, so we're going to dry it the natural way."

"That'll take a while."

"You aren't going anywhere, darling." Clive manipulated the chair again till Blair was once again lying stretched out on a platform. He picked up a small, sharp pair of scissors. "Now, to neaten you up a little." He snapped the blades together, arching an eyebrow. "Do you trust me?"

Blair closed his eyes. "Yes, sir, but I don't think I can watch this."

"Then keep your eyes closed, dear. You don't need much."

Blair kept his eyes squinched tight shut. There were tiny snipping sounds from around his groin. He felt an occasional very gentle tug on his pubes, but not a single kiss of cold metal. He was surprised to find that, not only did his erection not droop, he got harder. There's just something about being completely under the control of a strong man.

After a moment Blair felt something raking gently through his pubes, and peeked. "You're combing my crotch hair?"

"I'm getting rid of the clippings."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you could get a bit itchy when you put your clothes back on if I don't. For another..." He hesitated. "Sweetums, have you ever made the mistake of eating an ice cream cone or a lollipop right after you've had a haircut and before you've re-washed your hair?" Blair thought, then made a face. "Exactly. Snippets everywhere. While I'm sure that your gorgeous lover accepts occasionally waking up with hair in his mouth as part of snuggling with you, I thought I'd spare him having to pause and spit if he decides to love you up a little before you shower."

"You're a thoughtful soul."

"Aren't I just?" Clive unshackled Blair, then untied the hair rope from the chair's arms, but left Blair's wrists bound. "Up you go." Blair stood and held out his wrists expectantly. "I should say not! We're a long way from done, pet."

Clive went back to the cabinet. This time he returned with a small bottle of amber fluid. Uncapping it, he held it up so that Blair could sniff. This is marketted as a massage oil but, well..." he smiled. "I'm fairly sure the manufacturer doesn't mind the customers being creative."

Blair sniffed. "Cinnamon? Clive, that isn't going to..."

"Burn? No, dear. Gracious, I don't mind a bit of pain for stimulous, but I'm not going to stick my cock into anything that might raise blisters, you know. No, it warms a bit, but it's very gentle." He sat in the chair. "Present."

Knowing exactly what he meant, Blair stood close in front of him, facing away. He spread his legs for balance, then bent at the waist. Clive patted the profferred rump, gently in deferrence to the tenderness. He coat the fingers of his right hand with oil, then used his left hand to spread Blair's buttocks. Blair shivered as Clive stroked the length of his crease.

Clive found the crinkle of Blair's anus and rubbed his finger over it. "As pretty a one as I've ever seen." He massaged around it, feeling the taut muscle begin to relax. "Do you get much of this sort of action, angel? I don't want to go too fast for you."

"Don't worry, sir." The oil had started to work, and Blair hummed happily as he felt gentle warmth sinking into his flesh. "I'm pretty much good as long as you aren't trying to hurt."

"No, love. I'm very carful of my submissives when it comes to this. You can't SEE if you're doing damage, so you have to do things right." He pressed one fingertip at the center of Blair's sphincter. "I want you to push back onto me, Blair. That way you can control the first invasion. Take a little time if you need to, but do it."

"Yes, sir." Blair pushed back, biting his lip as Clive's finger slowly penetrated. He didn't stop till the other man's knuckles were flush against his ass.

"Oh, very good, pet! Do you need a moment?"

"No, sir. Your fingers aren't as big as Jim's."

"Is that so?" Clive began pumping his finger in and out of Blair's anus. "Then I'll have to try harder, won't I?" After a moment he pressed a secong finger in beside the first, spreading them as he stroked. "This won't take much longer, I believe. Just a moment."

Blair made a tiny whine of protest (not daring to actually speak) when Clive removed his fingers. "You just be patient, you greedy thing. This is for your benefit." Blair soon saw what he meant. When his hands returned, Clive slid in THREE fingers, and a greased left hand reached around and began fondling Blair's increasingly needy erection. Blair crooned with happiness. "You're welcome."

Clive's fingers passed over Blair's prostate, sending a burst of even more intense pleasure washing over him. He bucked into Clive's firm grip and received a warning squeeze. Clive's voice was sharp. "I know it feels good, but if you pull off, I shall be VERY annoyed."

Blair tried to control himself. The second time Clive hit his prostate he managed to jerk just a little, but on the third and fourth pass his knees started trembling. "Sir, please. I don't want to pull off, but if my legs give out I won't have much choice."

"All right." Clive removed his fingers. Blair drew in a breath and Clive snapped, "I have to get my pants open, and if you fuss I won't fuck you." Blair clammed up quickly. Clive began unbuttoning his pants. "If you act like this with Jim, I'm surprised you can ever sit down."

Blair couldn't resist. He twisted, looking back. Clive was just slipping his erection through his open fly. "Wow! Maybe your fingers are smaller than Jim's, but..."

"Eyes front!" Blair's head snapped around. "You'll be better able to judge size tactically, precious." Clive grabbed Blair's hip with one hand. "Straddle my legs and start to ease down." Blair did as directed. He paused when he felt the warm, slick nudge at his rectum. "Okay, sit down--slowly."

Blair started to bend his knees. He felt himself spreading, then the heated flesh was slowly sliding up inside him, pressing the walls of his anal passage apart. "Oh, man." He continued down, down, feeling himself stretch to accomodate Clive. Finally he was sitting, his rump to Clive's groin. He panted, "I was right--you DO give Jim a run for his money."

"We'll have to make a side-by-side comparison soon." Clive sat up a little, reaching around to embrace Blair. "My, you're nice and tight. Give us a little squeeze, darling." Blair concentrated and tightened his muscles around Clive. "L-o-v-e-l-y." Clive found Blair's nipples and pinched, eliciting a groan. "Move, dear."

Blair moved, rising and falling on the impaling column of flesh. He leaned forward a little and found that the cock head rubbed across his prostate at that angle. His movements began to resemble bouncing. Clive grabbed his hips and held him down. "This is not a race, Blair!"

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just calm down a little. Fast and furious can be nice, but there's no need to hurry right now." He loosened his grip. "Okay, once more, but pretend we're in school zone, not on the Daytona Speedway." It wasn't all that easy, but Blair managed, rising and falling with almost voluptuous slowness. "Oh, good boy," Clive purred. "You get a lollipop before you go."

"I'll settle for just the pop part."

"All right." Clive tightened his grip. "Slowly, now." Clive stood up, staying anchored firmly in Blair's body, and turned the both of them around. "Bend over and we'll kick this into high gear."

Blair bent, resting his elbows on the chair seat. "Hey, this is still warm from your butt." He rubbed his face on the leather upholstery.

"Flatterer. Brace yourself." He started pumping. Blair whimpered. "Found the spot, did I?" The younger man nodded. "Good." He rammed hard, and Blair gasped, throwing his head back. clive let go of his hips with one hand to catch a handful of hair. "Oo, it's drying nicely!" He bent forward, rubbing his face in the fragrant strands. With a growl he began pounding even harder.

Blair relished the strong thrusts, starting to push back to meet them. When Clive reached around and again started to masturbate him he gave him another internal squeeze in thanks, and heard a small chuckle. "You've just given me an idea. One of these days I'm going to have Trenton sit on me, then we'll see if he can just sort of jerk me off my squeezing. It should be fun to try. Are you close, pet?"

As he spoke, he rubbed his palm over Blair's cockhead, smearing the pre-come that had leaked out over the sensitive flesh. "Shit, yeah!"

"What an elegant turn of phrase." Clive jerked his hips hard, almost lifting Blair up on his toes.

Blair yelped as Clive's cock stabbed at his prostate again, and he came, his sperm splattering on the chair. "Oh, shit, man, I'm sorry!"

Clive continued fucking him, grunting, "Sandburg, do you think I'd have anything in here that could be come stained? I have better sense." He buried himself a final time in the bent over man's ass, and groaned in completion as his seed spilled. Blair bumped his ass back against Clive's crotch softly, encouraging him to empty himself entirely.

Finally Clive pulled free. He turned Blair, sat in the chair, and once again pulled him down onto his lap. This time, though, he had the Guide sit across his thighs, rather than straddling, holding him like a department store Santa would hold a child. Blair snuggled, dropping his head on the Dom's shoulder. "That was n-i-c-e."

"Mutual, dear, mutual." Clive stroked Blair's now dry hair, occasionally lifting a few strands to sniff them or rub them against his cheek. "Do you think you could talk your friend Jim into letting me, oh, I don't know... maybe give him a hot oil treatment?"

Blair giggled. "Hot oil sounds good. Could I assist?"

"I think that could be arranged." Clive yawned, closing his eyes. "Heavens, I'm not ususally this worn out after a scene."

"Well, Jim did interrupt your nap, didn't he? Why don't you go ahead and doze? It may be awhile before he's back."

"I may just do that little thing." He slipped lower, letting his cheek rest against the top of Blair's furry chest. "After all, I have a teddy bear to sleep with..."

taptaptap

Clive sat up abruptly, looking around wildly. His office. He looked down in his lap. Yes, that was indeed an erection, but judging from the dry feel of his pants, the dream had stopped before he reached the wet stage. Drat. "What the fuck is it?"

There was silence for a moment, then a meek voice said, "Sorry, but, um, I sorta had an appointment for three o'clock, and it's three-fifteen now."

Ah, Trenton's friend. Clive got up, moving toward the door. "You're late--not a good start."

"Nosir, I wasn't late, but... well, you have this sign up, and I know how pissed most Doms get when they're disturbed, so I was kinda hesitant. I was gonna wait, but Trent said you probably wouldn't mind, so I just..." Clive opened the door, rather snappishly, and the young man standing outside trailed off. "Am I in trouble?"

Clive stared at him.

He wasn't Blair Sandburg, but he was damn close. Actually, he was Blair Sandburg with glasses, and without the slight red tint in his hair. Everything else was there: the fantastic body (complete with chest fur--he could see curls peeking from his open collar), dark blue eyes, and fuck-me mouth. "You're Trenton's 'net friend."

The man nodded, holding out his hand. "Gregory Margolas. I'm auditioning for the part of Blair Sandburg... No, wait, they won't be using that name exactly for legal reasons. A Blair Sandburg type character in a movie based on The Sentinel tv show. Are you familiar with it?"

"Yes, and don't you mean rather based on the slash fan fiction written about that show?"

He blushed. "Um, yes. Anyway, they're down to two of us for the part, and I think I pretty much have it, but it would be a lock if I could just look a little more like their concept of the character, so I was wondering if..."

"Say no more, dear." Clive walked around him, and gave the ponytail that was hanging halfway down his back a tug. "All you need is a little trim and a few highlights, with just a little henna. I can fix you right up."

"Oh, man, could you? I'd be just incredibly grateful." He gave Clive a sly smile. "Really, really grateful. Getting this role is my dream."

Clive gestured at the door to his station. "Well, precious, why don't we just step back into my parlor and we'll see if we can't make a few dreams come true?"

The End