The Shopkeeper
I grew up a happy kid. Even though our family belonged to a very religious Pentecostal Church every thing was great until I was in 4th grade. Like all of my 4 brothers and sisters I attended the church school from K-8th grade. As I said every thing was great until one day at recess when one of the girls in my class started to pick on one of my friends. Madison, was a petite girl, her size made her look like she was 7 or 8 years old. The other girl, Libby, had been picking on her for days and I just snapped. I pulled on Libby’s pigtails, and swung her away from Madison, yelling at her to back off.
Of course I got caught by my teacher, and the standard punishment in the school was to be spanked in front of the class. So, after recess was done I had to stand in front of the class, then the teacher lifted my skirt so everyone saw my underpants. That was quickly followed by 6 firm whacks on my backside. Sitting at my desk afterwards was almost as bad as the spanking themselves were. Most of the afternoon all I thought about was the punishment I was sure to get once I got home.
I dreaded to bus ride home, and as I walked up the front walk, I saw my mother and father waiting for me. The lecturing was first, over and over about what the Bible said about what I had done. My father said that because I had pulled out some of Libby’s hair that the penalty should be to also lose some hair. Just as I was about to ask if they were going to pull out some of my hair my mother showed my the scissors in her hand.
I thought she would just cut a little off, but instead she was putting her fingers flat against my head and cutting off all my beautiful long hair. I balled my eyes out as I felt my head getting lighter. When she was finished I ran to the bathroom, and once I saw the 1 inch of hair I now had all over the tears started all over again.
In the next couple years it seemed that every time my hair had just started to grow out to have the least little bit of length, Libby would do something to set me off again, so I would be in front of the class with my skirt up again and my backside feeling the sting of the teachers paddle. Then, as always, my hair would be taken from me again.
It was the summer before 7th grade and all of the kids in our family spent the summer with our grandparents. My grandma was just awesome, letting me grow my hair out over the summer, and buying me some new clothes. Our last week there she took us for back to school haircuts. When I told her I didn’t want the back any shorter, she told the stylist to just trim up the sides. I ended up with a then popular mullet, but as long as I kept some length in back I didn’t care.
The school year was barely a week old when Libby started in with me. She started to call me Violent instead of Violet, and of course the teacher only caught me yelling back at her, so I again would be punished. There was something different about being walked up in front of the class now than there was just a year ago. I was more worried about the embarrassment of having my skirt lifted up than the actual pain of the spanking.
I knew the drill as the teacher called me to the front. I placed my hands on her desk and waited for the inevitable. As she flipped up my skirt all of the boys started howling and then instead of being spanked the teacher started to ask me why I was dressed like a whore. Confused, I asked why she would say that, only to have her lift my skirt again exposing a pair of pink bikini panties that my grandmother had bought for me. After she doled out the punishment I had earned, she marched me down to the principals office telling me I should be ashamed of dressing like a common whore in school. The principal called my parents, who were horrified at my actions.
When I returned to school after a three day suspension, my mullet was gone. My mother deciding to take me to the barbershop with my brother, and both of us ending up with the same buzzcut. The other change was on my required uniform. I now had to wear white pantyhose and a long-sleeved polo shirt with my skirt so I didn’t tempt the boys in school. This also made it easy for me to be watched whenever we were outside of class.
When I got to 9th grade I went to a public high school, and things went great, I got to dress like everyone else and my hair finally got past my neck. I hadn’t had any reason to get into trouble until some girl named Kim, started messing with me for no apparent reason to me. I had never met this girl but all of a sudden she started calling me Violent. The only one that ever called me that was Libby, and as far as I knew she went to the catholic high school nearby.
I did my best to ignore Kim, but after about 3 weeks of avoiding trouble, Kim started a fight. When it happened all the other girls around were Kim’s friends, so of course they all said that I had started it. I was sent to the office and waited while they called my parents. In my mind I was just happy I would get a spanking like I would have at my old school.
When my parents arrived I sat quietly as they talked with the principal. To my shock he told them that because of my history of violence in school I would be turned over to the Juvenile Court as an unruly child. I tried to speak on my defense, but both my parents, and the principal had any desire to hear what I had to say.
I was taken to what I could only describe as a kids jail. I was there about a week, speaking with councilors, who would determine my fate. During the week I met a couple other girls, Marnie and Sarah who both had really short hair, as we talked about what went on in this place I could tell that they weren’t telling me everything. After the week was over my parents came to visit, and we were all taken to see the Juvenile Magistrate. As I walked out of the dormitory I was staying in both girls laughed as they said “See you in a couple months”. I had no idea what they were going on about and hoped that I would soon get to go home.
I stood before the Magistrate having heard about all the bad things I have done in my life and even having my parents say that they didn’t know how to stop me from being ‘so bad’. Then it was the turn of the psychologist from the juvenile center who said that all I needed was some discipline to ‘straighten me out’. The funny thing was nobody wanted to hear what I had to say. The magistrate then said that everyone had agreed that I was to be sent to a juvenile boot camp where I could be shaped into a proper member of society. I just looked at my parents, wondering why they would do this to me. I was led to a holding area with 4 other girls, all going to boot camp.
I sat on the bus and looked out the window still not believing what my parents thought about me. I didn’t even think about where we were headed until the bus stopped and we were being screamed at to get off the bus and line up. There were several adults, all in military uniform, screaming at us to move along to intake, where we were all told to strip naked and again line up to be inspected. We were all taken, one by one, to the nurse for our physicals, after which sent thru the door to get our uniforms. Most of the girls seemed to be cried out by then, until we were led to the next room, the barbershop. It didn’t matter which side of the camp you were sent to, male or female, the barbers gave the same cut.
As I waited for my turn in the chair, I could only think about how much of my life has been spent with my hair buzzed off. As the clippers were once again taking my hair off, rather than be mad about it i decided that I was just supposed have it that way. While the other girls were all crying over the loss of their lock hair, I just stood there waiting for what was next. The drill Sargeant tried her best to get me upset over losing my hair, but in my head I knew it just didn’t matter to me anymore.
The boot camp was full of grueling physical work and psychological exercises to break your spirit, but all the girls made it through. A few of us that knew we would be sent back to the juvenile detention center formed bonds with each other. Though strictly forbidden, several of the girls found ways to be intimate with each other. I had even grown close to a girl named Lisa, she became the first best friend I had for years.
After 16 weeks we were back in our pink jumpsuits, waiting for the bus to take us back to kids jail. While most girls had a couple inches of hair, mine was barely 1/4 inch as I would report to the barber every two weeks for a fresh buzz. Once back in juvenile detention I had to meet again with the psychologist before I could see the Magistrate again with the hope that I would soon go home.
I was so happy to see my parents as we met in the Magistrates office. Unfortunately that was the only happy thing that happened to me that day. The psychologist reported that I still had uncontrolled anger, and couldn’t be trusted on my own. My parents again agreed with her, so the magistrate told them that it was in my best interest for me to remain at the facility until I aged out. That meant I would be here until my 19th birthday.
My thoughts went to what all was being taken away from me. There would be no high school romance or senior prom. It also meant that there would be no college for me as none of them would take a chance on me. It also meant any relationship I was going to have for the next 3 years would be with another girl. I just couldn’t understand how they thought keeping me here would make things better.
My present for my 19th birthday was my freedom. My parents came to pick me up and were surprised at my appearance, gone forever was they pretty girl who had long hair and wore dresses. My long time girlfriend from kids jail had been released a month before me and had invited me to come live with her and her sister, so 2 days after getting home I left my parents house with nothing more than a backpack of my stuff. I basically told my parents that any rage I had left was at them for leaving me in that facility. The final thing I left them with was the image of my girlfriend and I making out in their driveway
It was Lisa’s sister that gave me the idea. She told me that since I spent so much time there, that I should become a barber. So, 4 months after my release, I started barber school, and once I finished I was lucky enough to get hired at a unisex barber. The woman who ran it was a lesbian and her shop openly welcomed women who preferred shorter hair. It wasn’t long before I had a regular following of both men and woman.
It was just after I turned 21 that I received a text message from an old friend. It was my best friend from years ago Madison who wanted to meet me and catch up a bit while she was in town. A few days later I was sitting in a local bar and was happy as I had been in years as I saw Madison, still a beautiful petite girl, come in. We talked about what had happened to us over the years, her saying that she always felt guilty about causing all the problems I had. I told Madison that none of it was her fault, telling her that we would be friends forever.
It was then she told me she had another surprise, however, I might not like it. She said that her girlfriend would be joining us after work and really hoped that could like her as much as she did. I told her that if she loved this girl, that I would too. Then I saw her come thru the door, it was Libby, the girl who I first got into all the trouble with. She had a nervous look as she approached the table. Madison stood up and gave Libby a kiss. I was shocked never thinking that she could even like her bully, let alone this. Libby faintly smiled at me “Hi Violet, it’s so great to see you.”
She sat at the table with us and surprisingly I wasn’t upset with her anymore. I decided that if Madison could forgive her for everything that she had done to her that I should support Madison any way I could. The conversation was at times uncomfortable, but as the drinks came we all got along as friends. The one thing that stuck out to me the most was when Libby told me about the first crush she had on a girl. To my surprise, she was blushing when she told me that it was me. Libby was embarrassed to say that the first time she felt her pussy getting moist was in 7th grade when the teacher lifted my skirt, and she saw my pink bikini panties.
I told her I was flattered by her comment, but asked why she continued being mean towards me. She again looked embarrassed as she said it was her way of keeping people from knowing she had feelings for me. She told me that the only person who knew she was gay was Madison, who had known since we started high school.
As the evening went on, and we all had gotten a little wasted, Libby asked if there was anything she could do to make things up to me. There was only one thing I could imagine would even come close. We stepped out of the bar and as we took in some fresh air while we waited on our ride share I looked at both of them “Why don’t you come see where I work.” My 1/4″ of hair would be the longest of the three of us before the night was over.
