This story is primarily about control between adult men with punishment plus sneaker and clothes play and destruction, plus forced haircuts in this part. There are some sexual situations but it is not the primary objective of the story. If you object to any of this then read no further. This story is sexual fantasy fiction and any resemblance to persons past or present is purely coincidental. Text messages are shown in italic with no space between the responses.

Remote Controlled Part V

“Awww fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

The pain was unbearable. Shocking. Literally.

“Jez. I’m awake, I’m awake! I really am very very awake! For fuck’s sake stop! Pleeeasee!”

It stopped. I was awake. Mission accomplished. Bastard. That’s exactly the sort of alarm I could really do without. I looked at the phone - 10:10am. Whoa, that didn’t given me much time to get to… um, wherever I was supposed to be going to. I clicked on the calendar event highlighting my 11am haircut. Hmmm, I hadn’t stopped to consider where that was going to be… West Hampstead? With all the places near to where I live why had he chosen that one? Unless it was just because it wasn’t that far away but a pain in the backside to get to from here. Especially in less than fifty minutes. No breakfast, a very quick shower and out the door in ten minutes was the schedule.

I turned on the shower and held my hand underneath it until I felt it warm up. Except it didn’t. Not one bit. I waited a bit longer and swore at it but it was still freezing cold. Freezing cold shower or no shower? A philosophical conundrum for our times…

No shower - I had already wasted four minutes of the precious time I had. I pulled on the thankfully dried jeans (yay for my hair dryer skills). I wasn’t happy though, far from it - dried cum all over me and I stank of piss and sweat. It was baking hot in the flat actually which was really weird; must check the thermostat when I get home. And the boiler! I couldn’t go out like this though. Well I had too, but I really couldn’t.

Oh, I didn’t like that idea, not one bit...

But there I was, air freshener in hand. Had it really come to this? The short answer was yes. The long answer was yes, it really had. I sprayed my jeans with the cloying scent of apple blossom and then, after waiting as long as I could just in case I had a better idea, I did the same under my arms as well. Mismatched tns on. No toothbrush. Purchase mints at the station. Brain working so fast. Door. Open. Leave.

As I was locking the door I spotted Dan, wearing nothing but a pair of white football shorts and being ushered in by a young lad I hadn’t seen before. And I think he was wearing what Dan was wearing yesterday. The clock was ticking but social niceties were required. And also, what the fuck was going on?

“Hey Dan. What’s up?” He just stared at the ground. The young lad smiled at me and half waved.

“Hi, I’m Drew. You knew him?” he said pointing at Dan.

Knew him? Past tense? “Yeah, I know him. What’s going on?”

“I own him now. And everything that he once owned. Isn’t that right Slave one?”

“Yes Sir.” Slave one responded quietly, while casting a pleading look in my direction. It was as pathetic as it was forlorn. A crestfallen mess. But time waits for no person. Especially me. Not these days.

“Oh. Oh okay, well have fun. I have to go - I’m late.”

I was, but I was really interested in what had happened here in just a few hours. Where was Jamie, and how had Dan ended up like this?

I guess I could also ask how had I ended up like this. Enslaved.

“I’m going to be here for a while so why don’t you come round some time?” Drew called after me.

“Cool, thanks - catch you later.” Social niceties over. Time to run.


My Controller was right; it was time for a haircut, but this was a little out of my comfort zone. I had been going to the same place every month for the last ten years. I didn’t do new and exciting, I did safe. Safe was where I was happy. Or more correctly, happiest.

The shop was smart and modern without trying to be achingly cool. It was a good start. I had arrived the right side of on time and was met by someone a little older than me who was immaculately groomed. We introduced ourselves before Greg ushered me to a chair. He ran his fingers through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

“Hmmmm, yes I definitely think a wash would be good before we start.”

How polite. Much better than the “your hair has bits of dried cum in it” gambit. I had never had my hair washed in a barbers before. I don’t know why because I loved having my hair played with. The whole experience of getting a cut was a little bit exciting for me. Oh what daring style should I go with this time? A high fade, buzz cut, a faux hawk or… or just the same as I always did... That thought of having something different always started to stir me but I never went through with it. I guess that was the story of my life; bottling out. Maybe the excitement of the ‘chase’ was enough. Maybe I didn’t need the full experience. I probably couldn’t cope with that.

The water started to fall on my head and the shampoo was massaged in. Oh, now really, I was so wrong to think I couldn’t cope with the ‘full experience’. This was sensual and so relaxing. Well, I’m sure one part of me wouldn’t be relaxed even if it wasn’t for the fact that I was being kept permanently erect by the device attached to me, being edged but not allowed to cum. Yes, this was very relaxing; the pain in my  shoulder felt diminished and my brain was freed from the general tiredness I had carried in my body for years.


My new friend returned with another couple of pints, this time with a couple of chasers of some description. I cocked my head at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Haha. Would you hate it if I was?" He smiled innocently.

"Well, no. Umm, it's just that sometimes, ahh... well...“

“What is it?”

“Well, ummm, I'm sometimes kinda not a great person to be around when I lose control."

"How do you mean? You're by far the best company I've had since I've been here!"

"Just arrived then?"

He snorted and then frowned at me. "Awww, stop putting yourself down like that! Come on, tell me why you’re so down on yourself. Talk to me."

We had been talking, a lot. Not really about anything important but he seemed genuinely interested, or maybe concerned what sort of weirdo he had been chatting to for hours. So I told him my story, how, after suffering a viral infection in my mid teens, I went from active and full of life to sleeping all the time and having no energy. It was just passed off as being a teenager and the only help I got was from my Dad. As much as I tried to hide it from him, he knew something wasn't right. Parent's always do. It took years to stabilize my condition, but I learnt how to manage it; to know when to fight it and when to give in.

"But it still creeps up on me. I descend into a dark place and, if I'm lucky, a friend helps me realise that it is happening again. I can control it then. I can manage."

I had no idea why I was telling a person I’d only just met about my dark shadow. Was it the beautiful marina we were sat at, was it him or was it just the drink? Or was it the intoxicating combination that had snuck around my carefully erected defences. Some of the walls were still in place though; it wasn't just my Dad that helped me. There was also Scott. He was the reason I wanted to get better. The only reason in those dark moments I turned around. But Scott as no longer part of my life.

He sighed and I felt a tingle shoot across my body as he rested his hand on my thigh.  "Everything that happens in life changes you. It makes you who you are. In the end we are all beautiful mistakes."

I took a sip of my beer, lingering on the thought for a moment, before chastising myself for steering our fun encounter into a moment of melancholy. Classic me.

“So how long are you here for?” I asked.

“I fly home tomorrow.” I think I must have shown my disappointment a little too visibly. “Awww, don't be sad. The night is young… your hotel nearby?”

“Yeah, it is actually…”

“One more drink. And then you can take me home.” He smiled at me and I melted there and then.


“All done!” said Greg cheerily. I had zoned out there for a moment. My brain, relaxed and freed, had sought out a happy thought; a new beginning. This was a good development, perhaps even the start of a new me?

As Greg took my arm and lead me to the barber's chair, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; my erection was not a subtle sight, straining the fabric of Luca’s jeans with no modesty. Greg seated me in the chair and with the cape on he pushed cotton wool between it and my neck. It was a nice touch.

“You have really nice hair.” Greg said running his fingers through it. In my heightened state my answer was somewhere between ‘Thank you’ and ‘Nrgggh’.

“Right, let’s get started with the new you. You still want to go with what you asked for when you booked?”

I really should have seen that coming shouldn’t I? Why would I have got to choose. Now I was worried; what did my Controller have in store? Wearing someone else’s clothes and odd sneakers was one thing but clothes are, well, just clothes but hair, that can only be changed one way quickly. My heart was pumping excessively, sweat was dripping off my brow and I suddenly had the urge to run.

“Are you okay?”

“I... I…” This was a test; my biggest one yet. Was I prepared to let him make such an indelible mark on me? Had he done wrong by me up to this point? Well, yes actually - like destroying all my clothes, but I guess I had to accept it was a massive turn on.

Fuck it. “Yeah, sorry. I think I had a hot flush or something. Yes of course, I remember now - sorry it’s all just a bit of a change for me.” I laughed. Too loudly.

“It’s okay. Yes, it is a big change but it will be fine. You made a great choice.”

He talking about the haircut right? But I didn’t have long to dwell on that thought as the clack of the blades reached my ear. And then it began as the chromium clad clippers pushed up the left side of my head showering the floor with huge clumps of hair. I looked in the mirror and it was to the skin - just what had I agreed to?! I dug my fingers into the leather covered arms of the chair, my signs of panic and excitement covered by the cape enveloping me.

The clippers returned, moving up and down the side of my head, then to the rear before reducing the right hand side of my hair to nothing. A huge wave of relief coursed through me as the shield was changed and I realised he wasn’t giving me a complete skinhead look. I was getting a fade - a very low bald fade, but a fade nonetheless.

However, I was shocked when the clippers, now leaving some hair on my head, ploughed past what I would call the normal end of the fade to somewhere level with my left eye. What was this? A military cut? No, that left swipe of the blade didn’t make much sense. Was it a mistake? My cock twitched and spasmed, and if it had not been for the device, the front of my jeans would have been soaked.

It continued for the next twenty minutes as Greg changed from clippers to scissors and my body ached from not being able to cum. I think it would have better for me if I could have, or perhaps in that moment it just felt like it would.

And then it was over. I looked at the large mirror in front and barely recognised the person in front of me. This person had a high bald drop fade which transitioned into an asymmetrical pompadour. It was bold haircut, but better than a bald one.

“Wow.” Was about all I could muster. After Greg had taken the cloak off me and spent an age ensuring any errant hairs were removed, I touched the side of my head. I had never had hair this short, or in fact this fashionable. It felt great but I was a little self conscious.

“Don’t worry it’ll grow on you!” Greg chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s really nice though, thank you.” I paid him for the haircut and some ‘product’ using my cash limited card supplied by my Controller and left to go home.

*ping* Let’s see then! Photo please - smile.

I disliked having my photo taken and distinctly hated selfies so this was some new sort of fresh hell! I took the awkward shot and sent it to him.

*ping* Wow. You looked good before but now you are stunning!

I could feel myself blush. It was a really nice thing to hear and I knew I was grinning like an idiot. I noted he didn’t bother asking if I liked it - I guess if he liked it is was enough.

*ping* plug in your earphones and clip the lanyard through the gap on the rubber bumper above the camera.

*ping* Then wear it around your neck.

I managed to get the lanyard attached - it wasn’t easy or pretty but it was done. I put the lanyard over my neck and put the earbud into my ear. A quick glance into a shop window confirmed my worst fears; I looked a complete tit.

“Can you hear me?”

Fuck that made me jump. I should have expected it I suppose, but this was the first time I had heard his voice since that night in Rovinj. The night all this started. “Yes… yes I can.”

“Yes I can…?”

I looked around to make sure no-one was in earshot. “Yes I can, Sir.”

“Good Boi. Let’s go shopping…”


I followed his instructions to take the overground to Shepherd's Bush, and within thirty minutes I was there. I had heard nothing from him during the trip but I was acutely aware he could hear and see everything through the improvised body camera.

“There is a shopping centre just outside the station. Go in it and walk towards the centre, take a right at the Sky stand and you’ll find a Lacoste store.”

I think I visibly jumped hearing his voice projected into my brain again. I’m sure I’ll get used to it…

“I’ve given you £250 on your card for me to spend in this store.”

Nice. I wandered into the glass covered shopping centre and followed the directions to the Lacoste shop. And there it was, all bright, white and wood. Little tables and benches with small immaculate piles of pastel coloured product perched upon them. At the very back, shelves from knee height to ceiling of polo shirts forming a swatch of colour; a rainbow in cotton form. Lithe dummies indifferently showed off the clothing, two at the back showcasing casual and smart while one, perched on one of the tables in an act of apparent rebellion, modelled a baseball cap, vest and shorts. I would love to have run amok with my trusty Stanley knife, rending the precise neatly arranged, and very expensive clothing, to useless ribbons of cloth.

There was a typical ‘Lacoste guy’ sat at a stool towards the back of the, well, was it a shop or a gallery? Dressed head to toe in Lacoste, cheek bones improbably high, slim and a mop of curly hair with tightly shaved sides, looking like he had just got out of bed, but stylishly.

I moved around the clothes hearing the occasion ‘ooo, I like that’, ‘a possibility’ or ‘get closer to that” in my ear. I reached the section of trainers and shoes and, while this part of Lacoste’s armoury was not my favourite, there were a couple of nice leather options with a black top and white bumper. Both the high top and low were nice actually.

“Everything alright? Can I help in any way?”

I turned around and was confronted by the Lacoste guy who must have glided across the store towards me while I was eyeing up the footwear. He was the same height as me so our eyes met naturally.

“Oooh, that I do like!” Squeaked my silent passenger.

“Err, yeah thanks. Just browsing.” I glanced down to see what was on his feet. I couldn’t resist, it was just a thing I always did. Oh, hang on, not head to toe in Lacoste at all, that would be a pair of white Nike AF1’s on his feet.

“The polo - ask him if they have any in stock!”

It was a deep blue with small white spots evenly spaced across it but every so often one of them was red. It could really do your head in. But yeah, it was cool.

“Actually, that polo - any of those here?”

“Ah, no, this was a limited edition from last year. We have other plain ones in this blue.”

“The pants - I like them too. And the AF1s… the whole outfit is perfect!” 

The voice in my head was subtly, but very clearly, identifying what should happen next. I found myself speaking in unison with my Controller.

“Can I buy what you are wearing please?”

He blinked several times trying to make sure he did in fact hear what he heard. “We don’t have any in…” His voice trailed off as our eyes locked firmly together.

“I want to buy what you are wearing. I’ll pay for a replacement.”

“Um, errr, I’m not sure…”

“You can get some Lacoste footwear - I’m sure that would be better for you.” He looked down and wiggled his toes in his decent but definitely not new AF1s. “I mean, the rest of what you are wearing is ‘on message’. I’m sure the owner would be happier?”

“I guess…” You first had to find a hook; a small bit of logic to distract them from the bigger picture. Just to divert their attention from the deviant bit. And then you have to sweep them up in the moment.

“Cool. So… a white slim polo? You’d look so good in that!” I said as I grabbed one off the shelf. “And these trainers would be perfect! How about those skinny chinos in blue?”

“Yeh, yeh! That’d be cool! And these white micro boxers to replace my red ones?” He lifted his polo to reveal the waistband of said boxers. Cheeky, but differently on the hook.

“What about one of those white canvas belts?”

“Yeah, why not…?” I could think of 250 reasons; this could be pricey.

“Okay, let’s do this. There is a changing room just down there. Put your clothes in this bag.”

I walked down to the single changing room with the paper Lacoste bag and started to pull the curtain across.

“No curtain. I need to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t get up to any funny business...”

I think I sighed; this was becoming a new reality in my life. But sensible lad, a fair call. I kicked off my mismatched Nike tns, unplugged the earbud and placed my phone on the bench so that my Controller could still see some of what was going on. I pulled off the polo shirt and glanced up at my clothes donor who was firmly staring at me. I undid the top button of my jeans and then slid my finger down to release the others. I hesitated and then pulled the skinny jeans down to my knees. And there we go, jaw dropped, eyes bulging, a moment of silence and then...

“Wow - what’s that?”

I explained to him what is was and what it was used for. He smiled and started to assist me in pulling off my tight jeans. He was definitely interested in both my cock and the device but not once did he try to touch it. He was so close at one point I could feel his warm, slightly uneven, exhales.

With his help I was completely naked and could nothing except watch him neatly fold my clothes and place them in the bag.

“I’m going to ring through my new clothes. Be right back.” And with that he disappeared back into the shop with all my clothes. I guess I wasn’t going anywhere!

“Okay that’s £314, but I get a 20% staff discount. So that’s… £251.20. Paying by card?”

Fuck. “Oh, ah, my card only has £250 on it… it’s in my jeans pocket.”

He popped his head back around the corner with a huge grin. “Well, we will have to work out how you’ll pay the difference then… Oh hang on, customer…” and he was gone again. I leant nonchalantly against the changing room wall, waiting for him to return with my new outfit.

“Mr Hellier! So nice to see you today! What can I do to help?”

“Hello Joshua. It’s a birthday gift for my nephew this time. I was thinking of something like this?”

“Ah, the Bomber Jacquard jacket. Your nephew is lucky to have an uncle with such good taste.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere but don’t over do it boy.”

“Yes Mr Hellier, of course.”

“Will you model it for me?” said Mr Hellier in a tone that wasn’t really a question. This wasn’t the first time such a request had been made it would seem.

“I think I have something even better! Let me put up the closed sign. Why don’t you take the jacket around the back?”

Uh oh, what was he doing?! I looked around, panicked like an animal just caught in a trap with nowhere to run and everything to hide...

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Next part: 31/01/19.