Down payment 1

The First Down Payment “Misappropriation of funds, criminal breach of trust, fraud, and the list goes on. What do you think, Meera?” Meera Ahuja stood before her boss, wringing her nervous hands. When she had started skimming small amounts from the office account, it went unnoticed. Soon her greed grew toxic and thousands turned into lakhs. Until one day she got caught. “Arjun, I will pay you back. I just need some time, I swear.” Her boss, a little over thirty with raven black hair and tanned skin, smiled sarcastically. “I have heard that line before. So, tell me, how are you going to pay back the ten lakhs?” “I just…need some time. You can deduct a part of my salary…” “A part of your salary? Ten lakhs plus interest…do you have any idea how long it would take? You want me to cut you slack so you can take your sweet time paying me back the money you stole from my company?” (Ten lakhs = One Million) “Please, just me a chance to make it right,” Meera begged. “Why did you need the money anyway?” “Credit card bills.” “You mean buying fancy clothes and shoes? Or those luxury beauty treatments you book every week?” Her eyes widened in disbelief as he clarified, “I know.” “I will pay you back, Arjun—” “Turn around,” he ordered. Even though she was perplexed, she obeyed. And then came the second command. “Your hair…take it down.” Meera turned a little. “What?” “Do as I say, Meera,” he said sternly. She complied, letting the dark midnight hair cascade down to her back. It was naturally straight, glossy and voluminous. “You do know how to maintain such long hair,” he murmured and took a few strands between his fingers, feeling the richness. “Here’s the deal—” he began as Meera faced him slowly. “I will take the first down payment and then you can work overtime in the office as long as I need you to, and you will be on half-pay. When the time comes, I will demand the second down payment and then the third, depending on how you fare. In the meantime, if you decide to quit, you will compensate my company with twice the money you stole.” “Down payment?” Meera asked, her head almost reeling. “Yes, down payment. Your hair. Since vanity landed you on your ass, let that be your saviour.” “My hair…how much?” “I will decide that,” he answered vaguely. “To begin with, a lakh per haircut.” It was risky… too far-fetching. “Please, no. I can work very hard—” “I am not interested,” he dismissed. “You have until tomorrow to decide and then whether I will be calling up my legal team or not would be up to you. You may now leave.” “Arjun, please…” He fixed her with a warning look. “It’s Sir to you from now on.” XXX “Where are we going, Sir?” Meera asked anxiously. “You will see.” The drive from the office to wherever he was taking her was nerve-racking. He then parked the car in a spot, directing her to follow along the side of the footpath. Meera’s footsteps halted when she saw the sight before her and quickly assessed his intention. “You can’t be serious, Arjun.” Her mouth gaped open as Arjun narrowed his eyes. “I mean, Sir. Please…this is not…” “I told you that I’d decide the down payment and you agreed.” Her eyes trailed the long footpath before turning to him. “It’s a roadside barber lane and…it’s dirty…and…labourers get their hair cut from here. They don’t even have a freaking chair. You can’t expect me to…to…” “Sit here and get your hair cut? That is exactly what I expect of you. Or did you think I’d take you to a luxury salon for this?” Meera looked around the place forlornly as tears prickled at the back of her eyes. The roadside barbers were lined up along footpath lanes, a common sight in certain parts of India. The barber would sit on a medium stool while the customer sat in front of him, squatting down on a small wooden plank that was much lower in height for convenience. Shorn black hair was littered everywhere and only working-class men preferred getting a haircut in such a place. Not only the place was beneath her, it was also degrading. There were no mirrors, only a hand-held one that the barber would give you at the end of your haircut or shave and a dirty cape littered with snippets of black hair. It wasn’t like the customers of roadside barbers had a preference for stylish haircuts or scrupulous hygiene. They mostly wanted to cut it short or shaved and had to rely on the barber for the expertise. And Meera knew that this was no place for women. She could only imagine the humiliation of being forced to sit here and be a spectacle of entertainment and amusement for the men as well as the barbers. What was the alternative? Prison. She compared the two choices and was forced to choose the less humiliating one for the time being. “You are going to sit there quietly and let me do the talking. Is that understood?” “What are you going to tell him? Please…” He fixed her with a look that brooked no argument. “Keep walking.” Meera stopped a few paces away and watched him walk up to a barber who was busy smoking a beedi (small, thin, hand-rolled cigarettes commonly manufactured in India) and briefly held a conversation. He, then, fished out his phone and showed him a picture. The barber nodded and then murmured something. Her heart started beating loudly when both the men turned to look at her. Meera had half a mind to turn around and run, but where would she go? And when Arjun gestured for her to come closer, she wobbled over with unsteady legs. “Sit,” Arjun ordered, pointing at his feet and she gulped staring down at the worn-down wooden plank. With great effort, she lowered herself down on the plank and immediately felt several pairs of eyes boring into her skin. The barbers, their customers and even the passersby people paused to look at her. And why won’t they? She was this beautiful, tall, curvy woman in a glossy silk shirt and beige tailored pants. Contrary to this sight, Arjun didn’t mind sitting down on one of the wooden benches for waiting customers. He, too, was dressed immaculately and sat like a king with one of his legs propped over the other knee. He held up his phone and started recording the video. Meera sat squatting down on the plank, her knees folded against her breasts. The posture was not exactly uncomfortable as it was humiliating. The barber shook out a cape, which was more brown than white with black snippets of hair clinging to it from previous male customers, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap it around Meera and tie a knot at the back. The stench of his sweat and beedi immediately hit her nose, making her wince. Her hair was taken down from the bun, almost touching her hips and given the way the barber handled it, it was clear that he hadn’t ever touched something like that. Men around her whispered and chortled, and even though Meera could not make out, she knew that she was being ridiculed. The barber picked up a dirty comb and straightened out the knots in a rough, hurried fashion. Her head was yanked back so many times, almost straining her scalp, that she squealed louder than intended. “Your hair is too long, madam,” the barber commented as he tackled the bunch into a rubber hairband. Meera watched as he picked up the scissors and disappeared behind her to tug at the hair. The unmistakable ‘schnick, schnick’ drummed against her ears as she held herself ramrod straight. The sound of the steel against her hair was terrifying. So much so, that she stiffened between her legs to prevent peeing in her pants. When the sound stopped she felt her scalp relaxed, gasps and giggles enfolded around her. The barber took the severed bunch of hair and handed it over to Arjun. Meera couldn’t believe when she saw the hacked length and instinctively, reached out to touch her head where the hair was merely grazing the back of her neck. She was too shocked to react, trying to get hold of her remaining locks. The barber arranged himself to sit in front of Meera and tugged her head down almost between her knees. The position not only made her obsequious but also hindered her ability to see what the barber would do next. Her hair was saturated with water as the barber took possession of her head and started massaging to distribute it, as he would do to any male customer. His ministrations were a little forceful, causing a heated spark between her legs. Dirty comb smoothed out her wet tresses and the barber picked up his scissors again. With deft motions, he started hacking off the length until there were merely a few inches from her scalp. Schnick. Schnick. Schnick. Meera grew restless with every passing second and attempted to lift her head as if she could prevent the chopping of her locks. But every time her head was shoved down like an errant child receiving a haircut under the instruction of a strict parent. Arjun watched the scene unfold with rapt attention and a threatening erection at his end. He had always taken great pleasure in watching haircut videos, but this was by far the most titillating scene—the haircut of an Indian girl by a roadside barber. Masses of wet locks accumulated in front of Meera’s eyes as she sat stoically. For once the barber tipped her head up and combed down the hair covering her face before inserting the long and thin plastic comb and chopping off about 3-4 inches. Her hair no longer grazed the side of her face, but the incessant snipping continued to haunt her reality. “Keep your head down,” the barber said in a gruff voice before pushing her head down and slanting to the left. He snipped a few more sections, reducing the right side too, before finally letting her head up. His eyes scanned the cut as the hair was reduced from a choppy bob to an overgrown pixie. The hair at the back still touched the collar, the sides were hanging over the ears and the front section only reached to the middle of her nose. But this wasn’t the cut Arjun showed him. He still had a lot of work to do. While the barber took great pleasure in cutting such long hair of a high-society woman, her fidgety nature made him irritating. So he clamped a firm hand on top and started combing down her hair all around her head before dousing the locks for the second time. Meera felt trapped all over again. She knew her hair was dramatically being shortened except she didn’t know how long the nightmare would last. Her vision was obscured by the hair as she felt the cold steel against her forehead and right where her eyebrows began. Snip. Snip. Snip. Wet chunks slipped down from her nose and into her lap as the barber cut a straight line across. She hated bangs. It just framed her face wrong and that is why she has always opted for long, curtain bangs while directing her hair stylist at the salon. But this was neither a luxury salon nor her wishes matter. “Is this okay?” She heard the barber but he wasn’t asking her. “Take it a little shorter,” Arjun instructed. The barber set to work. The bangs were further trimmed down an inch or so before they laid flat covering only half of her forehead. Arjun had to tug the other end of his suit over his crotch in order to hide the evident bulge. It was almost painful not to masturbate to a scene like this. A stylish woman made to sit before a roadside barber and having her hair cut at his mercy was probably the scene of his dreams. Meera’s struggle did not go unnoticed. He watched her reactions intently, almost reading into her pained responses when the barber snipped her bangs shorter. She had bit down on her lips as if she was edgy in pleasure. Her submission made him wonder if she secretly liked it so far. Once the barber fixed the length of her bangs, he found an outline. The scissors rested against her temples, sailing over the ears and then travelled all around her head like he was carving a line. If Meera wasn’t so troubled and prickled with tension, she could have guessed her fate. The barber took hold her head and drove a line high up her occipital bone until the impending bowl cut was taking shape. He pushed her head this way and that before exchanging the scissors with the clippers. Since there was no electric point, these roadside barbers only had one variant of battery-operated clippers that cut the hair to the scalp, leaving behind no length at all. Meera was subjected to the same fate. Her brain registered the sound too late before her head was shoved down for the umpteenth time and all the hair below the line of the bowl cut was mowed down to nothing. She couldn’t help but struggle out of the barber’s hold but it only made her situation worse. Impatient, the barber now tackled her head into the crook of his free arm and locked her head like he was cutting the hair of some petulant boy as he started shaving the undercut. The crowd gathered around had laughed at the sight. The degradation soared higher as the barber twisted her head to the left and right in his grasp but didn’t let her go until half of her head was skinned down. The sensation was so acute that her core squeezed and warmth pooled between her thighs. When he finally let her go, Meera was breathless and she realised that she had peed a little in her pants. Arjun couldn’t help adjusting his manhood when he watched her struggle. Her hair was then tapered along the weight line where the shaved skin met the new hairline as the length was shortened further. The barber twirled a brush into a bowl before applying the lather over the shaven perimeter. This time he didn’t want to take any chance or perhaps he liked dominating her a little too much and locked her head into the crook of his forearm before razoring her. The blade grated against her virgin scalp, over and around her ears when the barber folded them down and methodically scraped off the lather. Once done, he grabbed the alum stone (commonly known as ‘fitkari’ in India) and applied it over the area. “Do you want me to shave this too?” The barber asked Arjun pointing at the prominent peach fuzz trailing down her side cheeks. “Yes,” came the reply. The lathered brush was dabbled over her side cheeks now. The barber gripped her head and slightly tilted up her face. He paused to look over the fine hairs over her lips and without any sanction, lathered it too like he would do to any male customer asking for a shave. This earned a halo of laughter around her. Meera almost recoiled when the shaving cream touched her lips and tongue but the straight razor froze her. The barber held the side of her face, pulling the skin taut with his thumb and used downward strokes to scrape the lather and then occasionally wiped the excess on the back of his hand. He moved on to her lips, pulling up the tip of her nose and ran the razor. Her facial skin received the same slather of alumstone before he took a small, damp hand towel to wipe her face and the shaved portion of the head. The cloth reeked of masculine odour and shaving menthol. But what choice did Meera have at this point? The barber untied the cape, dusted some cheap-scented white powder around her neck and started swiping the shredded hair. He had no qualms hooking a finger into the V of the shirt, exposing a little of her cleavage to the crowd and then inserting his hand under the pretence of dusting. In fact, he smiled at her while doing so. Meera pulled back immediately. When she was given a hand mirror to inspect her haircut, her jaw fell open. Bad enough that he had given her a bowl cut, but the line was crooked and it was messy. The sides looked uneven too. She got up quickly and didn’t even dare to look around even though she was already the centre of attention. Arjun paid the barber with a hundred rupee note and marched after her to the car. XXX “Why?” Her voice croaked with sadness as she slammed the door closed. Arjun sat behind the wheels. “It’s just hair,” he said, reaching out to touch the back of her neck and then his fingers skated above. He stroked the skin, almost like a lover’s fingers. “I look ridiculous!” Meera jerked his hand away. “The bloody barber shaved half my head and this hair…this…” She was at a loss of words, biting back a tear. “I could have chosen a worse haircut for you,” he warned. “Like a head shave. And maybe even your eyebrows.” “People were laughing at me. And how I am going to explain this at the office or home or to my friends?” He shrugged. “A lost bet…or a dare challenge? It’s really not my problem.” She was so mad, on the verge of throwing a fit before her eyes dropped between his legs. “Oh, my God…are you…hard? You are such a fucking asshole.” “Careful, Meera. I have the missing money trail and a video of your haircut. Which one do you think would be more damaging?” At this point, she backed down. “Please, no.” “Besides, I wasn’t the only one who was excited.” His hand roughly tugged her knee and parted her legs where the damp spot was pretty evident on her beige pants. “What do you have to say about this?” Meera tried hard to close her legs but it didn’t work. “It’s just water…from the haircut. It…dripped.” “Oh, really? Why don’t I find it out myself?” He was quick to unbutton her trousers before thrusting his hand down into her panties. Her pussy was warm and sopping wet, and her clit was definitely swollen as he felt it. “Please…fuck…no,” she moaned along with a few more incomprehensible words before Arjun pushed another digit in and out of her. His free hand cupped the back of her nape where the barber had shaved it smooth. The sensations sizzled into something raunchy while she bucked her hips and sought stimulation. This wasn’t what she wanted, but, God, it felt good. And at this point, she would welcome any distraction. “The men were watching you,” he rasped against her ears. “They were watching how the barber cut your hair.” “Unh…ugh…” A third finger joined her pussy, strumming against her G-spot. “Young, middle-aged, old…all the men stood there,” he described the scene she had avoided. “They even laughed a little when the barber locked your head and shaved you.” Meera’s orgasm came undone with the account of her humiliation. He slowly pulled out his fingers, ordering her to lick it clean. And she did. Arjun drove the car back to the office before dropping her home. The next day, Meera showed up at the office with the bowl cut, completely ill-suited to a woman of her stature or position. But she had resigned to her fate now. “You will not wear any wigs or extensions. No clips, hairband or fancy accessories either. You will show up exactly like this, shampooed and air-dried.” Her boss has issued the instructions, making sure everyone could see her roadside haircut. And she complied. The first week was tough, having to face everyone and also getting used to the look on herself. Slowly, she had gotten used to it. Arjun watched the video twice a day for an entire week and then another, and every time he got a kick out of it. He would make her work long hours after the office, watching her and sometimes, feeling her head too. Meera’s hair grew out faster than expected within a few months. The bangs now grazed her eyes, the hairs touching the top of her ears while the nape sprouted a velvet layer of black covering. The other day when his fingers played with her hair while she worked, she complained, “I have to use some clips or band, Sir. The hair is falling over my eyes. I can’t work like this.” “That won’t be necessary. It’s time for the second down payment, Meera.”