GraceHairQueen
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I was in a writing mood, hope you like it!
🕑 Added 2020-09-12 16:35:14 +0000 UTC
A treat
I was out on my daily walk, I was twenty five, and I had always worked hard to keep myself looking good. My long, black hair was tied up in a high ponytail. While walking, I noticed a barbershop on the other side of the street, I found myself stopping and looking through the open door. I saw a woman with bra strap length brown hair get up from one of the waiting chairs and walk towards the barber’s chair. I ran one hand along the length of my ponytail, I was in need of a trim, and if that girl could get a cut in a barbershop, then why shouldn’t I?
I crossed the road and entered the shop. The barber working there closed the door over behind me, and I took a seat in one of the waiting chairs. I was the only person there, other than the barber and his female client, who looked to be in her late twenties.
There were three barber chairs, with mirrors and tables in front of them, the woman was seated in the middle one. She leaned back, running her hand through her thick brown hair, she sighed happily. I watched as the barber put a neckstrip around her slim neck, and put a large red cape over the girl, completely covering her body. The barber held all her hair up in one hand and closed the cape tightly at the back of her neck. He dropped it down again and pulled out a pair of scissors. I wondered if he was going to ask her what she wanted done, but he didn’t.
‘My, my,’ he scolded. ‘You do have a lot to come off, but don’t fret, I’ll put this mess right.’
The girl looked ashamed, I wondered why, because her hair was so beautiful.
The barber walked behind her and pushed her head down, he pulled all her hair back and put a clip in it, making a loose ponytail. I watched the girl in the mirror as she bit her lip.
The barber took her hair in one hand, and with the other he held the scissors. He put the scissors to just below the hair clip and started to cut, she shut her eyes as the scissors worked their way through her thick hair, ‘Shrick shrick’. The ponytail was starting to come away in the barber’s hand, his eyes full of concentration as he removed years of growth from this poor girl’s head, I sat and stared as this beautiful girl got her long hair cropped, the barber put his hand on the back of her head to hold her firmly in place. The scissors continued to hack at the ponytail until it finally came away in the barber’s hand. There was a blunt stub at the girl’s neck where all her beautiful hair had once been. Now the flowing hair was being set in her caped lap. She raised her head again, examining her new appearance.
I gulped, not sure that I wanted to get a haircut in a barbershop where girls were barbered as if they were men. Maybe, I thought, the girl had wanted a short haircut, and the barber would make it more feminine.
‘You’ve been good so far,’ the barber said, he ran his hands through her newly chopped hair, the ends blunt and uneven, reaching her chin. ‘But I’ll have to see how you react to getting a bit more of this mop taken off.’
He combed out her hair as she swallowed and nodded, ‘I’m ready.’
My mouth dropped open as the barber picked up a black set of hair clippers, with sharp silver blades, the barber fitted a guard to them.
‘Half an inch,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll take you shorter.’
The girl nodded.
I couldn’t believe that she was agreeing to let him cut her hair with those.
The barber held the clippers firmly in one hand and switched them on with a pop, a loud buzzing came from them, and the barber prepared to give this beautiful girl with shining hair a buzzcut. I was stunned. I got up from the seat, preparing to leave and go to a salon.
The barber looked at me, brandishing the buzzing hair clippers. ‘Sit yourself down again, you came in for a haircut and you are going to get one.’
I sat down again, there was nothing I could do but wait and watch.
The barber turned back to the girl in the chair, she looked so vulnerable, in the red leather barber chair, most of her hair sitting in her lap, and waiting silently to get more taken off. The girl winked at me in the mirror, I smiled uneasily back. The barber raised the buzzing clippers with one hand, and placed the other on the girls neck to hold her in place. The clippers were placed at her forehead, in the middle, at her hairline, the clippers nibbled at her hairline, then the barber pushed the clippers slowly down the middle of her head. The powerful clippers buzzed loudly as they formed a line of pelt down the centre of her head. The girl sat, caped up, and held firmly so she had no choice but to submit herself to the clippers, even if she didn’t want it, the clippers left half an inch of hair and the shorn locks fell onto the cape, or onto the tiled floor, where I hoped my hair wouldn’t end up, but I couldn’t help but feel that somehow I would be made to get the chop.
The clippers finished their first path along the girl’s head, and they were clogged up with long pieces of shiny brown hair, which the barber pulled from them and tossed to the floor.
The girl looked at herself in the mirror, all her head was covered in chin length brown hair, apart from a buzzed strip down the centre of her head. The barber tiled the girl’s head again, and held her by the hairs on her nape, then he pushed the clippers along her head again, masses of deep brown hair fell to the floor after being shorn by the clippers. I saw worry in the girl’s eyes as some of her hair fell past her face onto the cape, to join her beautiful ponytail. The girl sighed as more of her hair fell from the top of her head, mounds of shorn off hair gathered on the floor as the barber clipped her. The sides and back of her head still were covered in chin length hair, but the top of her head had been taken down to half an inch of velvet.
The barber tilted her head to one side and ran the clippers up the side of her head, hair tumbled away as the clippers moved around her small ear, he went to the other side of her and ran the clippers around her other ear, the hair fell to her caped shoulder. He turned his attention to the last of her long locks, on her nape. He teased her with the clippers first, buzzing the bottom of her neck and the whispy hairs at the bottom of her nape. I saw pleasure in her face and wondered how she could be enjoying this massacre of beautiful hair. The barber pushed her head down and ran the clippers up her nape, hair fell to the floor as the clippers sheared away the last of her long hair, leaving her with an all over buzzcut.
The clippers were switched off and the girl felt her head, sighing with happiness.
‘It’s great,’ she said. ‘But too long.’
I was shocked, if that was too long, what would they think of my hair?
‘I was thinking,’ the barber said. ‘That I could buzz you down to 1/8 of an inch, and give the back and sides a 0, good and tight to the skin, a little treat for you being a good girl and not complaining.’
‘Of course,’ she said, putting her hands back under the cape.
The barber switched guards, now the clippers had an extremely short one on. The clippers were fired up once more, and soon they were being run over the newly buzzed girl again, short clumps of hair fell from her head as the clippers took her even shorter, the top of her head was given a tight and even buzzcut. The guard was removed and the sides of her head were buzzed so tightly that barely a hair remained, just stubble and white skin. The clippers were switched off and set down. The cape was removed and the neck strip thrown on the floor. All her hair now lay in piles on the floor. Her head was nearly bare, but she looked pleased as she stood up. I gulped, my turn.
‘Now, young lady,’ the barber motioned to me. ‘Time for a haircut.’
My legs wobbled as I walked across the tiled floor, through the piles of hair to the red barber chair. I sat down.
‘My barberette will deal with you,’ said the barber, motioning to the girl with the buzzcut.
She smiled, and the barber left, going into a back room. She pulled a neckstrip from a roll and put it tightly around my neck, then she covered me with a red cape.
‘Got anything in mind?’ she asked.
‘A trim.’ I said, my voice wavering.
She laughed, ‘Does this look like the kind of place where you can get a trim?’
I looked at the table in front of the chair, the large clippers, clogged with shorn hair, sharp scissors, the clipper guards, a comb and a neck brush.
She took the bobble out of my hair and ran her fingers through it, when it was down it reached my ass.
‘It must take some effort to look after this load of hair.’
‘It does,’ I replied, thinking of the hours I spent washing and caring for my long hair.
‘I’ll make sure you don’t need to worry about that any more,’ she said.
She picked up some hairclips and a comb, and she carefully sectioned my masses of hair into three loose ponytails, one on each side of my head and one at the back. I gazed into the mirror, wondering what she would do to my hair. Would she give me a similar treatment to her own? Would I get all my hair cut off and thrown on the floor? Would the clippers be used on my flowing hair? I sat and worried.
‘You have such thick hair,’ she told me. ‘I think I’ll need the clippers to get this off.’
I sat, stunned as she picked up the clippers, brushing the hair out of the blades. I couldn’t move. She walked around to my right side, kicking piles of her shorn hair as she walked. She held up the guardless clippers.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘I’m going to give you a trim,’ she said, switching the clippers on.
She held the ponytail on my right out, and moved the clippers to just below the hair clip. The clippers buzzed loudly by my ear as this forceful barberette prepared to give me a haircut that I didn’t want. She moved my ponytail into the clippers, the powerful blades shearing the lengths of beautiful hair that I had cared for so dearly, but here I was, sitting in a barbershop, with a girl who had just had all her hair shorn off, and now she was giving me a haircut that I would never forget.
I watched in the mirror with horror as the long ponytail came away in her hand, leaving about five inches of blunt hair where it had been. She dumped the hair in my lap and took the hairclip from my head. I stared at the hair in my caped lap.
‘It’s a start,’ she smiled.
She walked around to the other side, dragging the lead of the clippers. She pulled the ponytail out straight and I watched as she prepared to shear it off. She moved the clippers in towards the flowing ponytail and I heard them loud in my ear, their tone changed as they met my hair, and I felt them tug as they buzzed off my beautiful, thick hair. She moved the clippers around the ponytail, making sure she was cutting all of it with the hungry blades. It was so thick that it took a few minutes before it came away in her hand. She smiled as she set the shorn locks on my lap. The clippers continued to buzz in her knowing hands. I gazed in horror at all the hair that had been removed.
She stepped behind me, and I felt her lift my final ponytail, there was no point in begging her to stop. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I could feel and hear it. I was under her control. I was not getting out of this now. I knew the clippers were nearly done, as her expression of concentration relaxed. The clippers sent vibrations through my whole body. I felt the hair come away in her hand, leaving my head light. She removed the hairclips. She walked in front of me and switched the clippers off. I sighed with relief. The clippers were covered in black hairs, my hair. She examined the long ponytail, fingering its blunt end, before setting it with the rest of my hair, a weight in my lap. The hair left on my head was uneven, there were blunt and shorter patches where the ponytails had been cut, around five inches long, the rest of my hair was reaching my shoulders.
The barberette picked up a comb and a gleaming pair of scissors, ‘You had such beautiful hair.’
She started to comb my hair out, I didn’t know what she wanted to do next.
‘Please,’ I whispered, as she turned me away from the mirror. I didn’t want her to leave me with this uneven cut, but I also didn’t want anything much shorter.
She combed my hair by my face and held up the scissors, she looked uncertain for a second, before moving in and snipping away inches of thick black hair. She combed my hair over my eyes and started the shearing again, the blades flashed and clicked, shiny blades met the hair and removed it, tumbling past my watching eyes.
She’s just cutting in a fringe, I told myself.
The scissors clicked above my eyes, hair fell to the cape. She moved to the side, combing and cutting, gleaming shears effortlessly removing thick hair. I felt the cold metal on my cheek, level with my mouth. The blades closed around the shoulder length hair, cutting it shorter. The barberette moved behind me, scissors clicked and hair fell, my neck had no long hair over it now, as she cut away my shoulder length locks. I was worried about what way it would turn out. Her shorn head was bowed as she focused on cutting the last of my flowing locks short. She obviously didn’t care what I thought, as she cut all my hair off without asking what I wanted done.
After a loud final snip, and a final tumble of hair, the comb and scissors were set down. She turned the chair back to the mirror. The cape was totally covered in my black hair, it was piled on my lap, the shorn pigtails and many locks of a few inches long. My hair had been cropped to a lip length bob, with a straight cut fringe, just above my eyebrows. My barberette walked behind me and raked my newly cut hair with her red tipped fingers.
‘You’re such a pretty girl,’ she told me, massaging my head. ‘You shouldn’t be hiding behind your hair, that’s why I need to do this.’
Hair clips in hand, she pined my hair up, sides of my head and my nape exposed. The barberette lifted the hair clippers with one hand, no guard.
‘I’ll leave you with a bit, for now.’
She walked to my right side, and held the clippers up, switching them on. The loud buzzing filled the room, and the vibrating blades prepared for my thick hair. She tilted my head to the side, I made no protest. I sat nervously in the chair, she kept her hand firmly on my head. She would make me submit to her clippers, nothing I could say would make her change her mind. She placed the clippers to my cheek, I closed my eyes. They reached my temple, and I felt them buzz a swarth of my hair away, my skin felt exposed. The buzzed off hair tickled my cheek as it fell from the clippers. The clippers were ran up in front of my ear, hair tumbled from the blades as they wrecked havoc on my shiny hair, my ear was pushed down and clippers ran around. I watched in the mirror as she held my head in place and sheared the hair behind my ear. She walked around to the other side, clippers buzzing hungrily in her hand. She pulled black hair from the moving blades and tossed it to the floor. The guard was cold on my face as she moved the clippers up. Hair fell to my caped shoulder. Once she had repeated the process, she moved behind me, pushing my head down. I could only stare at my lap now, covered in my cut off hair. The clippers were moved to my neck. One hand held my head down, the other held the buzzing clippers. I felt submissive, her clippers had already removed most of my beautiful hair.
I heard the clippers purr behind me. I breathed in as they slowly moved up my nape, I felt the hair come away, sharp blades cut away the shining, dark hair, down to a short, uniform buzz cut. The clippers left a velvety pelt as they sheared inch upon inch of my hair. I felt the hair fall, the vibrations moved through me, leaving almost bare skin behind.
Finally the clippers were switched off, I lifted my head and looked in the mirror, the sides and back of my head had been clipped close. She unpinned my hair, letting it fall down around my face. She combed through my hair, and I hoped that she would spare what remained of my hair, but I saw her lift the scissors. She combed a length up between her fingers, and she considered where to cut, and in three quick snips, she had cut the lock down to an inch. I gasped. She combed more hair up and cut again, and again, shearing me. The black, healthy hair was being hacked down to an inch on top of my head. The undercut became visible as the hair that covered it was barbered. Soon the only part of my hair longer than an inch was my fringe, she combed it out, considering, I hoped that she wouldn’t cut it, but the scissors clicked across my forehead, the cold blades trimming my fringe short.
I shut my eyes, not wanting to look at my short hair. I felt something warm and wet on the back of my neck, and I opened them, she was lathering warm shaving foam onto me. She took out a straight razor and stropped it, it glinted threateningly. She shaved around my ear, short black hairs mixing with the white foam. The stubble was scraped away to reveal pure white skin. Once she had shaved my back and sides, she wiped me down with a towel. She ran her fingers over my freshly shaven skin, sending tingles down my spine.
‘That’s you done, come back if you want it done again,’ she planted a kiss on my shaven neck, making me flush.
She whisked the cape off, all the heavy hair falling to the floor, and I felt her sharp nails as she removed my neck strip. She winked at me, and I blushed harder, the sides of my head reddened with my face.
