Hawke Academy – Catherine Back In The Chair 

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Hi! If you haven’t read the first part, that’s alright. (Part 1)You can still follow the story. All the characters are above 18 years, and the story involves mild BDSM themes. Enjoy!

 

Two things happened the day I was forced down to the chair and had my head shaved. One, I made sure that I was never brought down to Mr. Hawke’s office ever again. And two, the idea of long hair didn’t appeal to me anymore. 

A lengthy five months later, my hair has grown out in a pretty shapeless pixie with no character or texture of its own. So I decided to take up Lucas’s offer and pay him a visit. I still didn’t know what would entail when I would step into that room again, but I was more intrigued than afraid now. 

“I knew you, I’d see you sooner,” Lucas grinned triumphantly as I stepped into his domain. Barbershop domain. 

“I wasn’t very sure,” I confessed, nervously wringing my hands.

“Come here.” He pulled me closer, and his hands immediately flew to my head. Long fingers weaved into whatever little length I reaped for the last few months, and the mere touch skin of his calloused sent tingling sensation to the strangest of places. 

“Hmm. Your hair grows fast,” he mused, rather unhappily and tugged around the nape. “Let’s see what we can do about it.” 

With the same hold around the nape, he took me to the chair and quickly threw around the cape and tissue before I could even get a word out. Plucking a comb off the counter, he began to brush my hair as I fidgeted in the chair. 

“What…what are you going to do?” I asked. 

“You will like it,” came the vague reply as I sat finger-crossed. The thrill and fear of the unknown were really heady, and all I wanted to do was relish at this moment.

Replacing the comb, Lucas picked up a clipper off the counter and swiftly rotated the chair away from the mirror. “Just relax,” he told me, clamping a hand over my head for the ultimate control as the machine thundered to life. 

Unlike the last time, he began at the sides. The clipper climbed up from the sideburns to the temple, around the ears, and then traveled towards the back. Whispers of hair covering the ears caressed down my cheeks as I sat cluelessly. At some point, he bent down my head and bared the backside before switching it off. It was ridiculously quicker than the last time. 

“You never said how you liked the last time,” he asked conversationally, adjusting a different clipper head.

“I don’t know,” I stuttered. “The whole thing was nerve-wracking. I mean I didn’t like it initially…”

“And after that?” He prompted, looking up from his task with a little smirk at the corner of his lips.

“After that, I can’t say I miss long hair very much.” 

Lucas nodded with a full-blown smile. “You are made for short hair, darling.”

He resumed this time with a comb and clipper and hacked away at the top. Small, dry snippets of hair rained down, soiling the cape as roaring clippers danced over the comb. As hard as I tried to tamp down the churning excitement, it only swirled tighter in my belly and traveled all the way down between my legs. 

How short was he cutting my hair? There was no way to find out, I believe. 

I had to force back a groan when the firm hand took possession of my head once again, and chattering teeth came in contact with the scalp, jerking up and down. The vibration spread quickly, humming with desire as I fought to stay still on the leather seat. But it ended far too soon than my imagination. 

“It looks better now,” he concluded and swung the chair around. 

The reflection was familiar but far less drastic than the last time. Lucas has merely buzzed the sides and back, not too high, and textured the top. The hair was no longer spiky and wild but developed a subtle character of its own. 

“How’s it now?” he asked, running his fingers over the textured top. 

“It’s nice,” I replied thickly. “Thank you.”

The cape came off, followed by the unceremonious disposal of the paper around the neck, and the snippet of hairs was dusted away. I finally managed to lever myself up the chair, almost stumbling to find my footing.

As I stood staring at the mirror, inspecting the brand new trim, a rich voice cut through the cool air of the room.

“Am I interrupting?”

I turned around in a flash. The principal, Mr. Hawke, stood paces away, leaning against the doorframe. Unlike his prim and proper suited attire, he donned a black shirt and blue jeans and casually folded up the sleeves. Shane Hawke always has a powerful, forceful presence that tends to pull you in like gravity. So it was impossible to look away from his smoldering gaze.  

“Miss Wells,” he smirked, ever so gently, and pushed himself off the frame. “You are the last person I ever expected to see here again.”

Oh shit. Do I need permission to be here? “I…my hair was a mess, sir,” I replied nervously. 

“Stop pulling her legs, Shane,” Lucas chuckled lightly. “The girl definitely needed a haircut.”

“I am sure she did,” he murmured, stopping near the chair I had abandoned a minute ago. “And she seemed to thoroughly enjoy under your hands, too, Luc. Look at that.” His long finger pointed at a spot on the leather seat.

A glistening wet spot on the dark brown vinyl. 

“Oh, my god.” Embarrassment painted me crimson, and failing to hide, I buried my face into my hands. Is there anything more mortifying than this? But then again, I have crossed the line of shame a long, long time ago. 

Lucas whistled low and grinned. On the other hand, Mr. Hawke reached for me and tugged me impossibly closer to his hardened chest. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Come here,” he implored tenderly and pried the hands away. And before I knew it, I was already inching towards him, one shuddering step at a time with the feeling of inevitability. 

Under the dress, his hand moved up. The calloused thumb pressed against the clit while the other finger found the wetness at the entrance. My breathing was close to painting; I wasn’t so sure I liked it at all.

“You are exactly as sweet and delightful as I thought,” he whispered. 

Easing out the finger, he held it against the adequate lighting for Lucas’s eyes. “Have you seen these, Luc? Delightful.” He smiled as bright as the sun. “So, you are excited to be back here, Miss Wells? And what is this haircut, anyway?” he mused, appraising my hair for the first time since he entered. 

“A feminine version of short back and sides,” Lucas answered for me. “Do you like it?”

“No.” He was straightforward and never a man who minced his words. “I liked it better last time, didn’t you, too, Miss Wells?”

I gasped and immediately realized the clenching between my legs. “I… don’t know.” 

“Liar.” He teased his tongue along the rim of my ear and kissed the hollow below it. “You love a smooth head. Isn’t that why you came back?”

My insides felt like molten lava. Even though I pulled and twisted in his strong arms, wanting to get free, I failed miserably. “No, I…I think I should go.”

“Are you fishing for a punishment again?” His voice took on a hint of steel. “I treat liars no different from the impertinent ones, Catherine. Tell me, did you come here expecting a smooth shave once again, because you enjoyed it the last time far more than you thought?” 

“Mmhmm.” The answer slid out without careful thought. 

“Then let’s give you what you came here for and was too afraid to ask for it.” 

I stared at him blankly, my heart beating at the door of my chest as he smoothly released his hold and plucked the largest clipper off the counter. Almost casually, he adjusted the demon machine in his hands and directed the barber with further instructions. “Luc, can you put her on the chair? And strip her, please. She wouldn’t need a cape.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

A hard hand gripped my arm and turned me around. Lucas’s hold was as steely as Mr. Hawke’s, unsurprisingly not hurting at all. With far-too-competent hands, he grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. He undid the bra and thong with the same efficiency, wearing a soft smile and easy look. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, cupping the naked breasts. Closing my eyes, I got absorbed into the sublime peace and effortlessly descended into submission. Why did it feel so wrong and so good at the same time between two men who shared the accurate forbidden fantasies I harbored? 

A new hand fondled the asscheeks and administered a sharp slap, making me jump. Ow. Ow. “C’mon, girl. Up on the chair,” Mr. Hawke said. 

As soon as I was settled down, he positioned himself behind the chair, assuming the role of a barber. One hand hooked under my chin, tipping my head back while the other handheld the menacing instrument. His tantalizing lips whispered against my ears. “Relax, this is not a punishment. Enjoy as I shave you bald. By the time I am done, there won’t be a single hair on your head.” Fear and ecstasy intoxicated me. “Do you think you will like it?” he asked. 

With restricted movements, I barely nodded. “Luc, please keep her distracted,” he directed. I had no idea what he was talking about and not that I could move my head anywhere, but when the ruthless hands spread my legs apart and pushed two fingers into my channel, I almost gasped in pain and pleasure. 

At the same time, the clippers roared to life and positioned at the center of my forehead. In a long, slow movement, the machine navigated from the hairline to the cowlick, carving a shaved path along its wake. Sheaths of soft hair rained down the shoulder, and before I would relish the feeling, a second carving was drawn. Then came the third and fourth. The thrill of two men holding me down for another savage headshave almost shut down my senses. I was floating, relaxed yet acutely aware of every single sensation happening to my body. 

Mr. Hawke maneuvered my head from this side to that until the top was shaved to his liking. The man was nothing if not a perfectionist. Once done, his firm hand pushed down the chin, and the clippers whirred behind my head. Whatever style Lucas had given me a moment ago was now gone in a flash. Scraped clean and clipped down to nothing. At least that’s what I could assume from the limited power of sight, and sheaths of small hair gathered around. 

Lucas varied his speed, awakening a waltz of arousal as I tried to squirm and whine with need. I closed my eyes and moaned helplessly into the sensations, feeling the vibrations against my scalp and relentless intrusion against my pussy. And when he finally shut the clippers, the buzzing touch was replaced by his long, enticing fingers. He purposely rubbed against the sandpaper-textured scalp, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I was bald once again.

Instinctively, my hand was about to touch, but he caught it midair. “Uh-huh, no touching,” he chided, giving a final rub. Every word he spoke radiated authority that could never be retorted. “I hate this stubble though. Luc, can you take it off and make sure it is as smooth as it can be?”

“My pleasure,” he grinned and immediately jumped to task while Mr. Hawke took his place. And unlike Lucas, his hands roamed everywhere, demanding every speck of pleasurable response he could elicit. 

A warm towel wrapped around my head, followed by the spread of thick lather. Despite everything, my heart hammered at the possibility of a razor against my scalp. 

“Stay still, Catherine,” Lucas warned. “No matter what he does to you. I don’t wanna nick you, pretty girl.” Biting down my lips, I willed my body as still as I could with the growing need to be satiated.

Long lazy strokes of the razor began from the sides, removing whatever little stubble I had left. The exhilarating sensation of the blade scraping away the stubble from the tender skin and sensitive nape…and then around the ears, it was simply too much to endure. I barely managed to hold still…between the shaving and fingering.

“Ah!” I gasped as a tremor shot through me.

Fingers pinched my nipples – hard. “Stay still, naughty girl,” Mr. Hawke scolded.

What seemed like an eternity of sweet torture, the shaving came to an end. Lucas gave me a final professional touch of soothing gel, and two pairs of hands dusted off every small snippet of hair from my body. The chair finally whirled around, revealing a stark bald and gleaming head and naked body. A reflection that filled me with equal parts of dread and an odd sense of satisfaction. 

“Do you like it now?” Lucas asked with a satisfied grin.

Did I? Hell, yes! But I was still too stunned to confess the darkest fantasy that I just lived. 

“Of course, she does,” Mr. Hawke answered for me. His hand encircled my waist from behind as he pressed a kiss on the shaved nape. “She is the most beautiful bald girl I have ever seen and I have no intention to let her hair grow until the day she leaves my academy.” 

My mind whirled. 

“What if I don’t want to leave – ever?” I whispered before I could even fathom what I was asking for. 

“In that case,” he grinned wickedly as his dark gleamed with excitement, “…you stay as my bald and beautiful student forever.” 

“And a mandatory shave every week,” Lucas added. 

For the first time, I was no longer unsettled or unnerved in their presence. All I could was smile. 

______________

Thank you for reading my story! Please, leave me a quick feedback if you have enjoyed it. 

5 responses to “Hawke Academy – Catherine Back In The Chair 

  1. Once a week is still going to leave a nasty shadow towards the end of the week… So the treatments should probably happen every Friday. Or, preferably it is time to consider Nair/Very? Maybe even… laser?
    +1 anyways

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