I have never been a small town girl, but the charm of it got into me when I visited my grandmother last winter. I wanted to get away from the life I had worked so hard to build, only because I got stood at the altar in the most awful fashion possible and ran for the hills—literally.
Vanora was a charming small-town with a view to die for. Within months, I had made up my mind and decided to settle down. So my first agenda was to look for a job, from whatever little options available. And that morning, I had finally found one—however odd it sounded.
“Have you ever worked in a barbershop before?” asked the man in his mid-thirties who introduced himself as Adam. He was six-feet-something with a sharp haircut that would easily qualify him for the army.
“Technically, no,” I hesitated, looking around, “—but I have worked across several salons in the city as you can see in my resume. I have also handled their social media, advertising and accounts.”
“Lady, this is no posh salon,” he stated. “People come in, get their hair cut or shave and leave.”
Beside him was Seth, the co-owner of the barbershop with Adam. “Advertising or social media aren’t our requirement either,” he reiterated. “In any case, there are only a handful of barbershops and we have a loyal client base too.”
Adam piped in. “The reason we put out the advertisement is for someone to collect the charges at the reception and maintain the accounts. Seth and I are too swamped up for that.”
“I understand. And I would not have any issue at all.”
“Okay, Miss Bennett. How about you join Monday and we’ll take it from there?”
“Sounds fantastic!” I was enthused.
And that’s how I had landed my first job in this small-town Vanora.
The first day I walked into the all-male dominion, it felt strangely odd but not uncomfortable. And Adam and Seth were quite right about the no-nonsense clientele who walked in, grabbed a number, got their business done and left. Pretty simple. But there was also something that gave me a flutter in the pit of my stomach.
It was those clippers—noisy, buzzing machines that intrigued me as much as it terrified me. Every time Seth or Adam would clamp a hand on the client’s head and run them mercilessly, I felt a quiver between my legs. There was some kind of power-exchange between the barber and the poor victim on the chair that got me a little too excited that I had ever realized. Apparently, there were only two kinds of hairstyles I had seen in months—short and shorter. From school boys to grown males, every one literally sported the shortest of styles. And sometimes, a few would opt for the cue ball look. Then there were times when Adam or Seth would actually talk their clients into shaving their heads for the scorching summer. And much reluctantly, they would consent.
I vividly remember the day when a man walked into the barbershop in a classy business suit with a head full of glossy brown locks on a summer afternoon. Before he could express his desire for a tidy-up, Adam had reduced his hair down to an inch and stared at the overgrowth. By the time he was released from the chair, all his hair was gracing the floor while he meekly ran his hand over the newly shorn head.
“I don’t understand why someone would let their hair grow in summer. As if global warming isn’t enough!” He commented once the customer left.
“He just needs a good barber to man him up,” Seth added.
The men put down their tools of the trade and turned to me. “Ruby, can you watch the shop for a bit? We need to run an errand.”
“Sure,” I said.
Once Adam and Seth had left, I was all by myself. Since it was late afternoon on a Monday, I knew that we would hardly have a customer, especially on a sultry day like this.
Out of curiosity, I braved myself and slowly climbed onto one of those large chairs. It was strangely thrilling as I felt the leather of the palm rests. There was a strong, masculine vibe about it, and something forbidden. From the cold metal of leg-rests to the sturdy build of that barber chair, I felt submissive sitting there. And it made me wonder if every man who got shorn in that chair ever felt the same.
A voice cut into my thoughts as my eyes flew open and I saw their reflection in the mirror.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you guys enter,” I babbled, half-embarrassed.
Adam approached the chair, standing behind me and raised a brow at me.
“Yes,” I answered after an embarrassing pause. “Actually, it is much comfortable than the ones in a girl’s salon.”
His fingers reached out and took the claw clip that held the messy bun at the top of my head and let the hair tumble down my back. “You are not a natural blonde,” he observed, staring at the roots which started to show weeks ago.
“Nope. Two years back, I got this incessant craze to go blonde and ever since, I try and keep it up,” I fibbed, hiding the fact that my ex-finance had a thing for blondes. “Except, there’s hardly a salon in this town and I guess I have DIY it myself.”
“Or you can let your natural hair color grow out,” Seth suggested. He stood directly beside Adam and took a few strands between his fingers and then inspected my long hair and passed my bra-strap. Somehow, the quiver between my legs intensified.
“It will look really weird unless I dye my entire length. And that’s going to be a job!”
“If length is the problem, then cut it short,” Adam proposed.
My stomach took a dip. “What?”
Both the men nodded. “Something short and manageable would look good.”
Seth held my chin lightly and murmured, “Something here…”
“Or maybe over the ears…” Adam said, pushing the hair behind my ears.
I did not know if it was their touch or the dread of a short-haircut in a barbershop, but I was positively frozen. “I…I have never had short hair,” I stammered. “Maybe back when I was 4, but I can’t remember the last time I had short hair.”
Adam met my eyes in the mirror. “All the more reason you should try.”
“Oka-ay. I will think about it.”
I gripped the hand-rests and tried to push myself off the chair when a strong pair of hands grabbed me by my shoulders and put me back in place. “There’s nothing to think about,” Adam said decisively. “You have been here for months, and you have seen quite a number of short haircuts by now.”
Adam combed the sides with his fingers, almost as if I were his muse. “I have seen you staring at the clippers when I was razing that overgrown business mop and you were wondering how it would feel against your scalp.”
Shit. “No…I was…”
He cut me off. “Seth, can you pass the cape?”
In less than a minute, a strip of tissue was tied around my neck, followed by a long flowing cape that almost felt like a heavy collar. Adam grabbed a brush and started to detangle the mane.
“When was the last time you had a haircut?”
“I had a trim about three months ago.”
“Trim?” He looked up, snorted and went back to brushing. “That’s the most ridiculous word in a barbershop.”
“I hate when someone comes in a say that they want a trim,” Seth added. “For God’s sake, mops are not trimmed but shorn.”
In the mirror, I watched Seth walking up to the door and changed the sign from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED’. When he turned, I gave him a questioning look to which he simply shrugged. “It’s past business hours. We don’t want to deal with any more clients for the day. Besides, I thought you’d like some privacy.”
Adam turned to him. “What should we do?”
“Get rid of the damn volume first.”
“That’s an idea.”
Both of them carried on the conversation as if I were invisible. “How about something summer appropriate?” Seth proposed.
“I was thinking of the same.”
Unable to resist, I had to intervene before they decided the fate of my hair. “But…I thought a bob would be…”
“Hush. Be quiet, Ruby,” Adam admonished. “If you work in a barbershop, you should fit in. And that means, you got to lose this ugly mop. Do you understand?”
He swiveled the chair around, having me face the door rather than the mirror. And the nervous knots in my stomach tightened even more at the thought of not being able to watch what is being done to my hair. And before I could formulate the next thought, a hand clamped over my crown, pushing it down.
“Head down and no squirming on the seat,” Adam said, suddenly donning a dominant persona. He bunched my long hair in one hand and grabbed the clippers with another. The noise changed when it came in contact with my hair, and within seconds, the entire length came off.
I gulped. Seven years of pampered growth snapped in a jiff. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Christ! It’s a load,” Seth commented. “You are gonna thank us later.”
Adam fired up the clippers once again and the moment I felt the vibrations touch my skin, I shivered. The adrenaline rush coursed through every vein, pushing my heart rate to a heightened level. I was both scared and excited—and most importantly, aroused. He would deliberately swipe the object, flick his wrist and deposit the hair into my lap while I had no choice but to remain a mute victim to this slaughter. I watched—helplessly—as the clippings heaped while Adam adjusted my head a little too roughly as he would do to a male customer. Strangely so, I did not seem to mind.
When the buzzing stopped, Seth moved closer and abundantly ran his fingers over the buzzed nape. “I think you should take it higher. It will really make her features sharp.”
The knowledge that I was near-bald at the back oddly excited me between my legs, and what Adam said next, was titillating.
“If we are going higher, let’s give her the whitewalls. It’s a classic barber cut.”
I had only lifted my head a little, but Adam caught it midway and pushed it back. In fact, he fisted the longish hair on top, tilted my head to the left and brought a different clipper to my sideburns. It climbed far too high, past brow level and short hairs slid down my cheeks. In slow, long swipes, he completed one side, moved on to my back, taking it almost to the crown and then to the other side as well. The cool air touched the shaved skin, and I knew for sure that I was bald at the sides and back. I could feel the severity of the cut when he touched it, and I had to bite back a moan between my lips. But Seth caught my reaction in a blink. “I thought you would do the standard cut,” he told Adam with a smirk. “But it’s pretty short.” His fingers, too, joined and then ruffled the long hair on top.
“I wanted to get rid of the blonde tresses. It’s short, but I will let her keep some hair,” Adam said authoritatively.
I was aching to the point I knew my control would not last for too long.
All I could see was blond hair—my hair—strewn across the floor, severed from my head and without my consent. And yet, I could not bring myself to protest. I had silently let them take control, dominate my look and complied submissively with a challenge. Fuck! When the hell did I become so submissive?
Adam ran the blades several times around the perimeter, merging the sides with the top that still bore a considerable length.
For a second, I thought he would leave the top as it is but the reprieve lasted only for five minutes. He then dampened the hair on top and picked up his trusted comb and scissors. Clumps of damp hair started to slide down the cape as he would grab a length between his fingers and snip it close. The anticipation almost killed me. I knew that I was leaving the chair with the shortest hair, but suspense almost drove me to the edge of my control.
I gripped the arm rests and pushed my hips forward, seeking the smallest friction possible between my legs. The men must have realized as they exchanged a smile and Adam resumed his ruthless shearing of my hair.
For once, he released my head only to check the length on top. “Yep, all done,” he announced. “What do you think?”
Seth took my chin and slowly turned my head from one side to another. “I like it. And I am sure Ruby will like it too, given she did enjoy the process so much. Isn’t it?”
I flustered at his comment and simply lowered my gaze.
“But she needs a cleanup,” Adam said. “Do you mind, Seth?”
Panic seized me. A short haircut was one thing, but being bald? I did not know if I was ready for it. “You are…shaving me?” I stuttered, surprised how hoarse my voice was.
“Of course. Seth wields a mean razor, sweetheart, if you haven’t noticed.” Adam lowered himself a little, whispering, “Next time, we might tie you to the chair and shave you, just so you can enjoy it even more.”
Seth spread the warm lather all around my head and sideburns before stropping the shiny razor over the leather. He firmly held my head with one hand, just like Adam had done, and pulled down the sharp blade in small, controlled strokes. It was both sensual and scary, and I could not hold back the orgasm anymore.
I came right there, without even touching my pussy while the men took turns in shaving me, one after another. And just when I thought the entire ordeal was over, Adam changed his mind and grabbed the clippers. He held me by the nape, steadied me and ran the clippers on top while my entire body shook with climax.
“Looks like our girl is a naughty one.” Seth laughed.
“Let’s show her how she looks now, without her fake blonde hair.”
He turned the chair around, and I could not recognise the reflection on the mirror. For one, I had not seen myself without the blond look and now it was completely replaced by my natural dark hair. And the sides and back were brutally shaved to the bone. It was one of those shortest military haircuts with nothing but the faintest layer of hair on top. It was essentially a man’s cut, and I did not know what to speak of.
“It’s so short,” I whispered, in obvious words.
“Well, it’s gonna remain that way, girl,” Adam said with a finality that stirred me. He took off the cape and dusted the clippings, finally letting the ordeal come to an end.
Seth could not stop rubbing his palm all over my back and that warm sensation made me wetter between my legs. “We should shave her head once,” he suggested aloud, and then bent down to purr in my ears, “And the next time, we might just shave you down there, too.”
Thank you for reading the story!