My Barber’s Toy
(But…I’m a Girl, Part II)
When Thomas and I returned from Trenton, my mother was totally shocked. She had successfully completed the training for her new job, while Thomas and I languished at the hands of our overbearing Aunt Mary.
It was no picnic, even with my newfound diversion. Each day we would be forced out into the garden to work, slave really, over my aunt’s passion for perfection.
“What on earth happened to you two?” My mother gasped. My brother was now sporting a short crop of blond spikes but I was still as bald as an onion.
“What do you think happened, Mom?” My brother scolded. “Aunt Mary happened.”
“I can understand what’s going on here,” she ruffed my brother’s abbreviated hair, and then pointed towards me. “…but, why on earth are you bald?”
Not wanting to reveal the real reason, I fell back on my brother’s assumption. “At first, it was a solidarity thing,” I explained. “Then, I kind of liked it, so…I kept it shaved.”
“You… you like being bald?” She asked, wrinkling her nose a bit. I knew I looked a bit odd with my bald head. Hank had given it a spit shine before I left for home, as a sort of going away gift. It was tanned like the rest of me, making it look like more of a permanent feature. I wasn’t about to disclose what else he gave me.
“I do, yes.” I sighed, finally, almost embarrassed by the admission. “It took some getting used to.”
“Well, that I can believe.” She laughed, finally. With the tension released in the room, at least for her, we all got caught up on what had occurred over the summer. Every once in a while, my mother would look at me and shake her head. “You always did have large ears when you were little.” She remarked, and I ran my hands over the protuberances, self-consciously. “I guess they’ve gotten bigger with you.” I’m sure she was wondering what happened to her lovely daughter. If only she knew.
Of course, nobody knew the real reason why I was still totally bald. And, none of them knew the full extent of my hairlessness, either. Hank liked me bald, top and bottom, so I was urged to comply.
They were also ignorant of some other things Hank had insisted upon, when I came to be his ‘toy’ as it were.
My Hairless Summer
The first time I found my way back to his shop, it was more than a little daunting. The place looked closed, because it was. I was tired from a full day of slave labor, but still, the stubble had begun to appear on my head, and I was less than enthusiastic over how that felt.
I knocked on the glass door, almost afraid when the man appeared out of the back, the silhouetted figure making his way through the shop. “I’m here,” I said, keeping my word to him.
“I see that. Come in, Come in.” He indicated the chair, which seemed so much larger in the darkened room. He lowered the blinds on the front windows, closing them before turning on the lights.
The air conditioning felt good against my overheated skin, which was beginning to burn from the sun. “I have some hairs growing in,” I explained as I sat.
“I’d like you to get more comfortable, now that we’re alone.” He suggested, tugging at my t-shirt.
At first, the idea seemed ludicrous. Was he really expecting me to strip naked for him? I eyed the man, who seemed to be rearranging his tools, and paying me little mind. Feeling adventurous, I did as he asked, folding my clothes neatly on one of his waiting chairs.
Climbing back into the large swivel chair was a bit more of an experience then. The cool leather felt strangely erotic against my naked skin, and the cape, almost seductively silky as it fell across my exposed breasts.
“You are an interesting girl. Attractive, in a way.” Hank insisted, as he readied his tools.
“I used to be, I think. Now, not so much. In fact, my aunt thinks I look ridiculous.” I shared, dropping my head in humiliated submission.
“Mary isn’t wrong for saying such a thing.” He assured me. “You know why you are here, don’t you?”
“To have my head shaved?’ I answered, not certain if the answer he expected was that simple.
“That is only the end result, Laura.” He explained. “When you sat here before, it was my taking of your hair that excited you so much, was it not?”
Once again, those waves of arousal came rushing into my belly, settling into my sex, forcefully. “Yes.” I managed, just.
“My taking of your hair served to fuel the fantasy within you. That is, in fact, what has happened.”
I felt a cool flush sweep over me and knew that I must have glistened with the sheen of fine perspiration over my body, my face, and my naked scalp. I ran my hands over its stubbled surface, and cupped them over my ears, as if hiding them would make them go away. Why did they have to poke out as they did? “You took my hair from me.” I sighed.
“I did indeed, Laura.” He reached under the cape, finding my fingers wrapped in my pussy. Pushing them aside, he replaced them with his own. “You have sacrificed your beauty on the altar of lust.” He pushed his fingers deep within me, and I opened my mouth in silent pleasure.
“Is that what it was?” I sighed. “My aunt is right you know. I am ridiculous. My ears are too big. This is not a good look for me.” I admitted, ashamedly to him.
“When I took that golden hair of yours, I revealed what lies beneath.” He said, sliding his fingers in and out, in and out, until I was on the verge of orgasm. “What you think is ridiculous, I find strangely erotic.” His thumb pressed against my clitoris hard.
I whined as he withdrew his fingers from inside me. “Oh, don’t stop, please.”
“Enough foreplay, my little girl.” Hank insisted, tugging at my pubic hair. “This must go as well.” He said, lifting the cape to inspect my mons, well covered by blonde curls. “But first, we will deal with this.” He tapped lightly on the top of my head with his closed razor, eliciting a smile.
He made no attempt to stop me from masturbating, as he spread the lather over my head, allowing it to settle into the fine stubble before opening his razor. It was every bit as erotic as the first time, as he deftly removed what little hair had emerged upon my sun-kissed scalp. The process seemed quicker, more practiced, as he quickly shaved my top and sides.
When he reached the back, he paused, eyeing me up and down as I writhed from my piqued arousal. Hesitantly, as if testing the waters, he unzipped his fly. I was quite sure that a small amount of drool escaped my lips as he slipped the sizeable member out of his pants. It was already erect, and I was quite pleased that I had been the cause of that.
“You will lick the tip while I finish, my little toy.” It wasn’t as though I’d never sucked a cock before, but his was so big. As he carefully shaved the back of my skull, I ran my tongue around the tip of his impressive glans, like a little girl with a lollipop.
“Now that your scalp is smooth, I will take you. I will do this each time I shave you.” He lifted the cape and moved me down so that my sex hung lewdly off the edge of the chair. “Let’s take care of this little tuft.”
He took his razor and with all the skill he had displayed above, he made quick work of my pubes. He seemed to take pleasure in using my own juices to wet the wispy blonde curls. It was so hot watching that devastatingly sharp instrument, peel my womanly covering away.
Once I was bare, he positioned himself between my legs, his massive erection only inches from my freshly shaved opening. This was no boy, this was a man, with a man’s cock.
I felt the width and length of it stretch me as he drove inside me for the first time. All of my immature dalliances with boys in my hometown were swept away in one thrust. It was as though he was taking my virginity all over again.
“What are you, Laura?” He insisted, as he slid in and out of me.
“I’m bald.” I had said it because I knew it was totally true.
“Yes, you are, little one. But what else are you?” His cock felt as though it might split me in two, it was so huge.
“I’m your little toy.” I managed, remembering him calling me that.
“Whose toy are you, my little hairless girl?” He taunted, sending waves of electricity along my center.
“I’m your toy! I’m your hairless toy!” I shouted, the pulses along my clitoris now spreading over my entire sex.
“You’re a barber’s toy, aren’t you?” He managed. “Say it!”
“I’m a barber’s toy! A barber’s TOY!” I came violently as he continued to hammer my overstretched pussy, grunting loudly as he emptied his enormous load deep inside me.
He pulled away, and I could feel his absence at once, the emptiness palpable as I gaped from his leaving. I thought I felt sore, but that would be for later.
He pulled the cape from around my neck, roughly. “Go clean yourself up.” Unceremoniously handing me a key. “The bathroom is down the hall.”
Was I imagining it, or was he treating me with a certain level of disgust? Not that I didn’t deserve it, I did, by all accounts. But he had been so kind up until that moment.
When I returned the key to him, he simply handed me my clothes without saying a word and disappeared into the back. It was one thing to be taken. It was quite another to be disrespected.
So, when I had fully dressed and thought to go, something told me to seek him out. I found him in a spacious office near the rear of the building. “Did I do something wrong?”
My presence startled him, but he set down the magazine he was reading and asked me to sit. There was a small stool, which put me at his feet, but it was the only place to light.
“When I am, aroused, Laura, your… appearance, it is exciting to me. To know that I did that, and will continue to steal that beauty from you, does something to me I cannot explain.” He sighed. “I discovered that after I finished, I felt ashamed for what I had done to you.”
“But I wanted you to do it. You don’t need to feel that way.” I assured him.
“I’m not sure that I can do this again, Laura. You were such a pretty girl before I shaved you. Now, the very thing that aroused me, makes me feel guilty for having done it.”
I felt the burning inside me as things tried to go back to normal, and I wanted to feel that cock inside me again, and again. “I won’t lie to you, Hank. Part of me regrets having done this. I look in the mirror, and all I see is this bald knob.” I ran my hand over the now polished surface. “And, then there’s these.” I chuckled, flicking at my ears, jokingly.
“I’m glad you can laugh about it. It helps.” He sighed.
“To be honest, I love it. I love how it feels. I love how it makes me feel.” Clarifying.
He smiled, finally, reaching up to caress my head with his careworn hand. “If you are absolutely sure?”
“I am.” I reached over to run my hand along his inseam, still seated below him on the stool. “And then there’s this.” I grinned, popping my eyebrows a couple of times. We both laughed, and the room seemed lighter.
In the end, I did go back. I went back three times a week for the entire summer. Hank seemed to get over his angst, knowing that I felt as aroused over my new appearance, as he did.
I grew accustomed to being stared at and rejected by those around me. Boys that normally would have salivated over me, turned up their noses. I knew I was nothing more than a hairless freak to them. It was my choice, and I really didn’t care what they thought.
Back to Reality
So, as I returned home, and what had to be some sense of normalcy, I knew it was going to be difficult. It was only a matter of time before everyone I knew had seen me, or caught wind of what had become of me. Even though I no longer had anyone to shave me, it was a long time before my hair grew in enough to appear ‘normal’.
The Laura of old was no more. Everyone’s opinion of me had shifted, and I found myself alone most of the time. I hated my hair, and how it felt as it slowly grew in. But grow in it did. By the time the following summer arrived, I had had enough. It was time to go.
I began scouring the want ads in different parts of the country to no avail. Nothing seemed to gel for me, and the jobs I did qualify for were less than appealing. It was around that time that I received a letter from my Aunt Mary.
It has been brought to my attention that you are having trouble finding gainful employment. Not all that surprising, considering what you have to work with.
Her disdain was palpable, even through the mail, but it had its usual effect on me. I began to feel that submissive ilk returning inside of me. I hated my mother for telling her.
Bradley has finally moved out, and I find myself at loose ends trying to find good help. As homely as you are, you were a good worker. As such, I am willing to overlook your superficial shortcomings and bring you into my household. Nothing will have changed, you understand, aside from being paid a salary, however modest. I will expect your arrival within the week.
The unmitigated gall of her letter was almost laughable. Did she really expect me to come crawling back to her, for whatever laughable paycheck she was going to offer?
Facing My Fate
Why then, three days later, did I find myself on a train bound for Trenton, NJ? The answer had absolutely nothing to do with her. I looked at myself in the mirror, my blonde hair now nearly to my shoulders. To anyone who didn’t know, I was quite pretty. I wondered whether this would be short enough for Mary’s approval. I doubted it. She enjoyed my baldness, and how superior it made her feel.
Besides, the real reason I was running away to Trenton, was for Hank. He would make short work of the farce my blonde veil had become. I wondered whether Mary would take me back there, and what Hank’s reaction would be to my restored appearance.
I hadn’t bothered to tell my aunt I was coming, so I would be finding my own way. The two large suitcases were indicative of the permanence of my situation, and that in itself was worrisome. Would I really be able to do this? I just didn’t know.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” My aunt chortled, as I was ushered into the large foyer. “I see you haven’t maintained your appearance.” She said, tugging at my curled under lob. “We’ll see what Hank can do about that later on.” A rush of excitement coursed through me at the mere mention of his name.
After I had settled in, and put all my things away, it was a short conversation that led to us making the drive to Hank’s Barbershop. I felt extremely small sitting in the back seat as she discussed what she expected. For all intents and purposes, I was back to being her slave, a small salary being deposited into an account set aside in my name.
As all my needs would be taken care of, a small allowance would be supplied for personal matters. This was so demeaning; I didn’t know what to think. Of course, the submissive in me was eating it up and was largely responsible for my signing the insidious agreement she had thrown down shortly after my arrival.
My heart was beating a mile a minute as we entered the ever-so-familiar shop. Taking a number, my aunt directed me back to the chairs. I felt as though I might actually melt into the floor. To think how I had been splayed out, naked and bald on the very chair where a young boy was perched, his locks efficiently being peeled away. Hank hadn’t noticed me yet, and I was glad for it.
Then our eyes finally met. “Hello, Laura.” That oh-so-familiar voice greeted.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” I answered, surprising my aunt. “I hope you’re well.”
“Quite well, thank you.” He smirked in the mirror. “I’ll be with you soon.”
Once the boy was lifted down from the chair, his mother realized just how short his hair had been cut. “That’s a bit short.” She complained.
The young boy seemed to like it, however, running his hands over the sandpaper stubble and giggling. I doubted they’d be back, as his mother pushed through the door in a huff, the boy in tow.
“So, Laura, you are here for another visit with your aunt?” Hank asked, assuming.
“No, she’s here for good this time.” My aunt said, speaking for me. “She’s working for me now. She even signed the agreement I had drawn up especially for her.” Hank grinned as I slid down a bit in the chair, aware of my discomfort.
“It’s good to have you back, Laura,” Hank said
Three young men about my age poured into the shop, each grabbing a number and taking seats well removed from my aunt and me. ‘So, there would be an audience.’ I sighed, inwardly.
Hank patted the chair, which brought me to my feet. I anxiously approached the ominous chair, remembering its feel as soon as I was in its grasp. It was strange to be wearing clothes, however.
“Give her something short, Hank.” My aunt insisted, as the cape was fastened tightly about my neck. “She’ll be working hard, so that mop will just get in the way.”
“I’m sure we can come up with something.” Hank mused, running a hand through my shoulder-length blonde hair. “Shame though, cutting off all this healthy hair.” I squirmed in the chair, anticipating what was to come.
The young men had perked up, having overheard the conversation. Their eyes were glued to me as Hank pumped up the chair. I heard some muted laughter amongst them as Hank lifted the clippers from beneath the counter.
Aunt Mary sat smugly in her chair directly behind me. In the large plate mirror, I could see her smile as Hank brought the humming machine to my forehead. As the blades bit into my hair, the laughter from the men intensified, and I couldn’t help but notice a snicker from my aunt as well.
Just as before, that overwhelming sense of arousal swept through my core, settling heavily in my sex. Each sweeping stroke would send cascades of blonde silk rolling over the cape to the floor as Hank took from me what was rightfully his. I had the sensation of growing smaller and smaller in his chair as more and more of my hair fell away.
When I finally looked up, the pale white knob was back, along with the unwelcome appendages which hadn’t grown any smaller hidden under my hair. The men, thankfully, had grown silent, as if shocked by the apparent transformation that had taken place before them.
Aunt Mary seemed more than satisfied, rising to pay Hank for his services, but he held up his hand.
“Almost done, Mary.” He offered, loosening the cape slightly and dispensing the warm aromatic lather into his hand. Carefully, almost sensually, he spread the warm foam over my freshly exposed scalp. It felt incredible, a sensation I would never grow tired of as the menthol seeped into the follicles on my head.
Then it was the familiar scrape of the razor that I so enjoyed. I knew I was sopping wet between my legs, but with my shorts and panties still intact, no one would be the wiser. Hank whispered the same mantra as before as he deftly removed the last vestiges of hair from my scalp.
There was no doubt that my aunt witnessed what could only be described as an erotic experience for me, and she knew very well how much I had enjoyed it. “I still say you look ridiculous.” She mused, loving every minute of my perceived humiliation.
Of course, and as promised, I still had my evenings to myself. As soon as I felt the slightest bit of stubble, I would steal away to Hank’s barbershop. My aunt wasn’t stupid, of course. She had, after all, made me her indentured servant. She knew all too well where I went at night, and why. To her credit, she said nothing, content with the knowledge that I was completely hers during the day.
Hank was waiting that first time, and I couldn’t resist running my open palm up the length of his erect shaft through his trousers. The place was still dark when he began to remove my clothing, tossing it to the floor like rags as he stripped me.
Closing the blinds, he allowed a single light over his chair, giving me the sense of being interrogated, naked, and exposed. As promised, I never allowed my pubic hair to grow back. He made me promise when he bestowed his final gift to me the summer before.
“Let me see it.” He said, and I knew precisely what he wanted. I slipped down in the large metal chair, the leather squeaking against my damped behind. “There it is.” He grinned. Just as he had placed it, the tattoo stood proudly from my milky white mons. The last time he had seen it, it was still fresh and raw.
Now the ink was settled, as permanent a part of me as my pert young breasts or my throbbing clitoris. I placed my hands on either side of my sex, pulling up so the letters stood framed in the V of my fingers and thumbs.
I reddened with embarrassment as he spoke it aloud, looking me in the eye. “Has anyone else enjoyed my plaything?” He asked.
“No, Sir. It belongs to you.” I moaned, wantonly. I imagined anyone I might have been with, uncovering that marking and continuing to trespass on another’s property. He had made certain no one else could enjoy my fruits.
After my shave, he took me, as he always did, but with none of the guilt that once accompanied his demeanor afterward. I was his slave as much as I was my aunt’s, maybe more so, because he owned me, body and soul.