Never a Mistake
Part Three of the Mistake Series.
Matthew sat in Jimmy’s chair, listening to his account of his wife’s haircut. Of course, Jimmy left out the juicy parts of the tale; the fact that his lovely wife was creaming her jeans as he had taken the last of her hair, or the shift in the relationship between the barber and his supposedly faithful Clair. Jimmy knew that he had the girl wrapped around his finger, but he wasn’t about to spring that on Matthew, at least not yet.
“Hey, isn’t that a little shorter than you usually go, there, Jimmy?” Matthew pointed out as the barber ran a number one up the back of the man’s head.
“Thought maybe you’d like a change,” Jimmy smirked, running the blades nearly to Matthew’s crown. He seemed powerless to stop him as he continued around the sides, giving him a real scalping. “Now, we just need to take the top down a bit to match the sides, if you know what I mean.” Jimmy chortled.
Jimmy suddenly felt more powerful than usual, with the rich executive at his mercy in the chair and having taken advantage of his wife. When he was all finished, Matthew was sporting what could only be called a crewcut. He certainly wouldn’t be needing a comb for a while.
Matthew ran his hand up the back of his head, wondering what had just happened. He’d gone in for a trim and came out looking like he’d joined the Army. As he settled up with the barber, he was surprised that the price seemed to have gone up as well.
“You’ll need to come in a bit more often now, Matthew. Next Saturday?” Jimmy pressed.
Matthew looked at his reflection in the mirror before he left. “I should be back in town by then, sure.” He said, wondering why he was being so compliant.
“Oh, by the way, Clair will be seeing me twice a week now. She’s got to maintain that gleam, you know.” Jimmy squeezed, wondering how the man might react. “How do you like her new egg?” He asked, grinning.
“Well, it’s fun between the sheets, if you catch my drift,” Matthew admitted, again, wondering why he had been so forthcoming.
“I bet she is.” Jimmy insisted, waving goodbye to the unsuspecting husband.
Jimmy wandered back to his chair, grabbing a broom and sweeping the remains of Matthew’s business cut into the dustpan and depositing it into the trash. “I bet she is.”
I waved out the window to Matt as he made his way to the end of the driveway to catch the school bus. It was Wednesday morning, and I had an appointment to keep.
I was surprised by how many people barely noticed that I had a completely shaved head. I guess it had been short enough from the last cut, and people just weren’t that observant.
Of course, Anne had noticed when she had dropped by on Tuesday, after Matthew headed out of town. I was still coming to grips with his new haircut. I’d never known him to go that short before, and thought that maybe he was just being sympathetic to my situation. It made me feel like I was sleeping next to a marine or something.
“Jesus, Clair, you just let him shave you? I mean, you’re bald for crying out loud.” Anne jested, deliberately flaunting her long hair as she swept it away from her face.
“It sort of just happened, Anne. Besides, it’s kind of fun to be bald. Matthew likes it.” I admitted, wondering what my sister might make of that statement.
“You’re not thinking about keeping it shaved, are you?” She asked, reveling in what she thought she knew.
“For a while, I think, yes.” I didn’t dare mention anything about the strange ‘thing’ that was happening between the barber and me. Of course, she couldn’t refrain from running her fingers over the glassy smooth surface. It had stayed smooth since Saturday, and I wondered why it hadn’t grown in yet. Maybe it was the head polish that the barber had used.
I thought back to when I had walked out of that shop, on Saturday, my head shining like a beacon in the midday sun. Already used to the lack of hair, I didn’t feel particularly embarrassed, save for the wet patch between my legs. I knew I would definitely have to deal with that issue when I got home, and I did.
Jimmy had called me around nine o’clock, wondering what time I would like to arrive for my touch-up. When I asked him if now was too soon, he seemed more than accommodating. Since the day before the slightest stubble had begun to appear on my head, not visible but certainly rough to the touch.
“So, I can expect you around ten, then?” He asked, eagerly.
“Yes, that will work,” I answered.
“Yes, what, Clair?” He scolded.
“Yes, Sir. I will be there at ten o’clock.” Forgetting his quirky insistence on my addressing him in such a way. It gave me a quick tingle between my legs, having given in to him that way. I wondered what exactly he had planned for me.
I arrived nearly five minutes early, and the place looked closed. He had said it would be closed, and that I would be his only customer that day. I walked up to the door and knocked, almost disappointed that he wasn’t there waiting for me. I stood there outside for a few moments before I heard footsteps. Jimmy appeared on the other side of the glass door, working the lock without losing eye contact with me.
“Clair. Come in.” He said, shortly. He relocked the door after I was inside. “I have a chair in the back. I can’t have you in front on a day when I’m supposed to be closed. There might be walk-ins otherwise.”
His logic seemed sound. “Thank you, Sir.” I said, with an emphasis on the ‘sir’.
“I’m glad you have embraced the use of the title, Clair.” He said, seriously.
He led me into a large back room, that was obviously used for storage. There were boxes and old equipment stacked up along the walls. In the corner of the room was an older barber chair. It almost looked like an antique, with fancy scrollwork and brass fittings. The leather was a bit worn in the seat, but it didn’t take away from the look at all.
There was a small mirror on the wall, and an abbreviated set of tools on a small counter below it. This area had been used, but not frequently. “Thanks for seeing me on your day off, Sir. The stubble has just started to show.” I said, quietly as he ushered me into the corner towards the chair.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way to thank me, won’t you, Clair.” He suggested, with a quick wink. “You’ll want to take all that off before we start.”
Jimmy said it so matter-of-factly, that it failed to catch me off guard. “You mean my clothes?” I asked, not quite believing what I was hearing.
“Yes, Clair.” He snipped, bringing his hand firmly down against my bottom. “You forgot the ‘Sir’, Clair.”
“Oh, my gosh.” I spouted. But the slap had elicited a stirring in my sex, which was undeniable. “Sorry, Sir.” Without really thinking too much about it, I started with my sneakers, moving to my blouse and then finally my shorts. For whatever reason, I didn’t feel embarrassed, and I couldn’t explain why. I set the clothes over an obliging box and started to climb into the chair.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He scolded, putting his arm across the seat. “I don’t think you’re done, Clair.”
For a moment, I stood there in my bra and panties, wondering how it had even gone this far. The look in his eyes was almost mesmerizing as he stared at me. “Yes, Sir.” Was all I managed. I added my bra, panties, and finally my footies on top of the neatly folded clothes.
“That’s better, Clair. Don’t you feel better now?” He soothed, and quite honestly, I did.
There I stood, completely naked before my barber, the very man who had robbed me of my beautiful blonde tresses, and for some strange reason, I found it incredibly arousing. He had stripped me of my hair, and now he had stripped me of my clothing. There was no doubt in my mind, my barber was in complete control.
“Very nice, Clair.” He indicated the old chair. “Have a seat.”
Once I was in the chair, it was as though every ounce of will or ambition was swept away. I looked down at myself, knowing that I should be so ashamed, but instead feeling incredibly excited.
“You’re a very pretty woman, Clair, even if you are my little pop-eared baldie.” As he had before, he flicked one of my protruding ears playfully with his finger.
All I could do was moan, and not quietly either. He was humiliating me, and I was enjoying every minute of it.
“I see you’ve been shaving the rug to match the draperies, huh?” He added. “We’ll see to that later, too, Clair. What do you think of that?”
All I could manage was a nod, knowing that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop him from doing it. The thing was, the idea of my barber shaving my pussy caused me to get even wetter than I already was.
As he set up the shaving things, stropping the straight razor on an old leather band that had seen better days, he leaned into my ear. “How’d you like Matthew’s haircut, Clair?”
Bringing up my husband while I was so humiliatingly exposed only added to my plight. “It was short, Sir.” Simply put, as my mind was out to lunch.
“He didn’t ask for that, you know. I did it to him.” Jimmy boasted.
What should have made me angry, had just the opposite effect. The idea that my barber had wielded his power over my husband only added fuel to my humiliation.
“He’s going to see me once a week from now on, Clair. I insisted on it.” Jimmy started to dispense the foam from the machine, the whining sending shivers down my spine. “I think I’ll take him down even shorter, next time. What do you think about that?”
I wanted to scream, ‘no’, but again the power he wielded over me was almost irresistible. “Yes, Sir.” I managed, haltingly, my pussy aching to be stroked and it was all I could do not to reach for it.
“So, I have your permission, Clair?” Jimmy asked, quietly, spreading the heated foam over my bald head.
I moaned even louder than before, unable to stop my hand from finding my sex and sliding a finger through the fragrant wetness.
“I’ll take that a yes, then?” He prodded.
My mouth hanging open, in what must have been a lewd display of wanton lust, all I could do was nod. Nothing else was an option.
“I like how slowly your hair grows, Clair. It adds a certain futility to your ever having hair again, doesn’t it?” He suggested.
If he had told me that I could never grow a single hair on my body ever again, at that moment, I would have given him that. As it was, the idea was powerful enough for an orgasm to pulse through me as the blade of the razor scraped over my scalp from front to back.
“That’s enough for now.” He insisted, pulling my hand away from my pouting lips.
I complained, by thrusting my hip upwards, and Jimmy spun a circle in the short little hairs that had sprouted since the last time I shaved, with the handle of the razor. “You’ll get your turn, ‘puss’, you’ll get yours.” He mused, returning to the task of shaving my head.
I felt the blade more keenly against my scalp than I had before. It seemed more through, almost as though my hair was giving up.
“Eventually, your scalp will get used to the blade, Clair. After a while, you’ll forget all about that luscious blonde hair you used to flaunt. Some of the boys still talk about that, you know. They want to know what it was like to take that from you.” He whispered in my ear. “Do you know what I tell them?”
I wanted to speak, to respond, but between my pussy screaming for attention and my head acting like a giant clitoris, I was pretty much mute. “Ahhh ohh.” Was all I managed.
“I tell them that it was glorious, reducing a drop-dead gorgeous blonde to my little pop-eared baldie. Well, it was probably once in a lifetime.” He sighed.
I could feel his erection pressing against my shoulder through his trousers. Of course, he was turned by this, how could he not be. My hand wandered back to my pussy, but again he set it back on the armrest.
“You’re going to make me tie you up, Clair?” He chided, and I wondered if he would actually do it. To be perfectly honest, the thought intrigued me. He worked the razor around my ears and ran his thumb around to check the smoothness of the shave. “Just like glass, my little Clair, just like glass.”
He ran a bit of the shaving foam over my brows and took each with a single stroke of the blade, not that there was anything there. They hadn’t even shown a hint of returning. Maybe they never would. I’d heard of that happening. Just as he had before, he polished my head with wax and a dry cloth, the heat of the friction feeling wonderful.
“Okay, little ‘puss’, your turn.” He looked down at me, smiling. “Scootch your butt down a bit and hang your legs over the arms.”
I did as he asked. I felt like I was at the gynecologist, only this wasn’t about any checkup. My legs dangled over what looked like ashtrays at the ends of the arms, and now that I was so exposed, I actually began to feel like I might pass out. I didn’t, of course, but a few times during the shaving he had to wipe away the excess juice that was literally pouring out of my pussy. Jimmy was very thorough of course, catching the sparse hairs that grew around my rosebud as well.
When he was all done, he gave my mound a slap. “Now you’re hairless everywhere, Clair.”
I watched, half in fear and half in anticipation as he lowered his pants and underwear, his huge cock springing to attention between my legs. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to do. I knew this might be coming, but I was hoping he might settle for a blowjob.
I couldn’t help lifting my butt off the chair to meet him as the head of his cock met the entrance to my sex. No one had ever been in there but Matthew, and he was nowhere near as large a Jimmy. As he pushed inside, I shrieked in both ecstasy and shock as I was stretched to meet his size.
“Little bigger than that husband of yours, huh?” Jimmy gloated as he pushed inside as far as it went.
“Oh, God, Sir, it’s big.” I gasped as he began to thrust in and out of me. I could feel an enormous orgasm building inside, and I knew by how it was growing that I was going to be completely undone when it hit.
“That’s… a… good…little…slave.” He stuttered as he increased the pace.
I was about to come apart at the seams, I knew it. I imagined myself chained to the base of his barber chair, naked. That image alone pushed me over the precipice, and I was falling, screaming, wailing, incoherently, as I came in enormous waves of pleasure.
Jimmy pushed one last time, coming deep inside of me. For at least a minute he stayed, pulsing and throbbing as the last drop of his seed was deposited into my deepest places. It was as though I’d been bred, and for all intents and purposes, I very well could have been.
“Well, my little slave, that was certainly enjoyable. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.” He said, and I think he honestly meant it.
“Yes, Sir, it was very good.” Of course, my conscience had come rushing back, and the shock of what I had just done along with it.
“Is that what I am now, Sir, your slave?” I asked, timidly.
“I think you have been since the first time you sat in my chair, isn’t that right, little Clair.” Jimmy reached up and placed a hand on the side of my head, his fingers wrapped around the back of my skull, and his thumb resting in front of my ear. He tipped my head up and placed a kiss on my lips, one that I was hesitant to return, but did as it was what he wanted.
“Then I guess I am your slave, then, Sir.” I admitted, and all of the guilt and angst that had crept inside me, floated away, and I knew that I was his.