Punish Your Child, Give Them the Chair Pt II

WARNING: The following story may contain scenes of female punishment beyond haircutting and headshaving. If such things are likely to offend you, please look elsewhere.

Part II

In an effort to save my struggling barbershop, I’d come up with an idea to get kids out of the salons, and back into barbershops. I ran an ad in the Sunday paper that said, “Punish your Child, Give Them the Chair! $10 Flattops for Children Needing an Attitude Adjustment” along with on old drawing of a grumpy child getting a flattop from an old fashioned barber.

The results were immediate. Once school let out the next day, my shop was filled with mothers and sons there to receive the “special” haircut. By closing time I’d given 8 flattops to deserving boys.

Tuesday looked like it was going to be just as good. Once 3pm hit and the school bell sounded, my shop started to fill again.  An hour into the rush, and I’d already given 3 boys the skinning of their lives, with three more waiting.

That’s when I noticed a commotion out front. A middle aged woman was pulling a high school aged girl out of the car while another younger looking girl stood nearby bawling. The mother then began walking towards the shop with a hand clamped in the back of the neck of the older girl.

“I’m not going in there!”, screamed the older girl, “I just had my haircut and he’ll butcher it!”

“You will do as you’re told, or I’ll take away your car and your phone!”, the mother sternly replied while tightening  her grip on her daughter’s neck and pushing her through the open door.

“I hate you!”, was the daughter’s response as they entered the shop.

I paused the sheering-in-progess just long enough to say, “have a seat ladies, just two ahead of you.” It was at that time that the oldest daughter looked at my latest victim and I could almost hear her gulp as she took in the sight of mass of hair in the boy’s lap and on his shoulders and how little hair was left on his head. She went pail, and I could see the terror in her eyes.

Honestly, I don’t remember the next two flattops. I kept stealing glances at the two girls, licking my chops at the chance to administer an attitude correction.

After I released the second boy and accepted payment from his mother I turned my attention to mother of the two girls asking “who’s first?”, as I shook out the light blue cape.

Both daughters glared at each other and pointed at the other. Mom looked at the younger daughter saying “Lauren, you go first.”

The younger daughter clung to her mother’s shoulder and whined, “Mom, no, I don’t want a haircut! Please don’t make me do this! I’m sorry mom!Please! I’ll be good, I promise! Please mom, let’s go home!”.  She was rapidly approaching hysterics as tears streamed down her face.

The mother coldly and firmly replied, “Lauren Jean, you stop this right now! You’re embarrassing yourself and me! You’ve had your chances and nothing changed. Now get your ass in that chair right now or by God I will give you something to be sorry about!”

With that, the dejected daughter accepted her fate, turning on the full water works as she stood and made her way to the chair. I couldn’t help but notice the pleasure the older daughter was taking in her sister’s punishment. Her time will come.

Lauren shoulders heaved with sobs as I reached around her to apply the neck strip and cape. I took a moment to comb through her long straight red hair which looked to reach about the bottom of her bra strap.

At this point a couple more mother/son combos entered the shop and I noticed a group of boys out on the sidewalk trying to nonchalantly watch what was about to happen.

Not wanting to disappoint, I pulled poor Lauren’s hair into a ponytail and said, “let’s get rid of the bulk first”.  With that I grabbed my scissors and placed them at the base of here skull.

Shnick, shnick, schnick

She is now visibly bobbing up and down as her sobbing intensifies. I take the severed ponytail and drop it in her lap, drawing a loud bout of whaling as she reached out from under the cape and fingered her severed locks.

I moved to the left side of the chair and grabbed a large lock hair hacking it off and grabbing another large lock and repeating the process as I worked my way around her head and over the top. It looked like a horrible hack job, but now I had something I could more easily work with.  Again, I couldn’t help but notice the snickers from the older sister. She was actually pointing and quietly laughing at her sister when she’d look at her.

Next, I grabbed the trusty Osters with the #00000 blade and moved to her left side. She stopped sobbing when I turned the clippers on next to her left ear, and her crying was replaced by fear. It was very obvious she’d never had them used on her before.

I placed the clippers in front of her ear and moved them up the side of her head sending a wave of red locks into her lap. I moved the clippers a little further back removing the hair over her ear and continued this process around the back and then along the right side until the only hair remaining was the hacked up hair on top of her head. I noticed her sister now covertly snapping pictures of her sister’s misery.

I then placed the guard-less clippers on top of her head a couple inches from her front hairline and pulled the clippers straight back carving a bald strip to the back of her head creating the inside of the horseshoe flattop. Her sister was now covering her mouth laughing while continuing to snap pictures.

I used my comb held horizontally in her bangs to shear them off flat at about 3/4”, then moved the comb a little further back repeating the process towards the back of her head where the horizontal comb was touching her head. I then worked my way around the back and sides with a vertical comb to put a nice wall around the flattop. With her thin red hair, her flattop looked much shorter than the boys I’d cut with darker hair.

I applied some flattop wax and brushed it vigorously to get it all standing straight up, then freehanded my clippers over the top to really flatten the top and remove any stray hairs. Lauren had stayed perfectly still during that process and I noticed the white knuckle grip she had on the arm rests. Only when the clippers were turned off did she relax her grip.

I cleaned up her hairline with some shaving cream and my straight razor, then turned her towards the mirror to see her new look for the first time. The waterworks started again as she buried her face in her hands and cried, “I’m so ugly!”

I turned her back towards the stunned audience, and removed the cape and neck strip setting her free. It was at this point that the oldest daughter realized it was her turn. Her smug demeanor changed to one of fear and trepidation.

“Go on Ashley, up you get” instructed mom.

“No mom, don’t make me do it! Any haircut but that! Please mom! I’ll look like a freak! No boys will want anything to do with me! Please mom! I’ll do anything you want if I don’t have to get in the chair!”

“Ashley, you made your bed, now you have to lie in it. Get in that chair right now missy!”, mom bellowed. Grabbing her daughter by the arm she hauled her to her feet and pulled her towards the chair that was now surrounded by a halo of her sister’s red hair.  Ashley was forcefully placed into the chair as her mother sternly warned her “not another word!”

The atmosphere in the shop was one of anticipation as mom retook her seat and I quickly applied the neck tissue and cape. Even Lauren had stopped her sobbing and now looked on anxiously awaiting what came next.

The group of boys on the sidewalk had gotten larger and it was apparent that these boys knew Ashley. Several had camera phones out ready to record her downfall.

On with the show I thought. I stomped on the foot pedal ratcheting her up higher and higher as violently as I could causing her to tense up and cling desperately to the arm rests.

Her hair was even more magnificent than her sister’s, reaching nearly to her waist in big full curls. She had clearly developed early with firm perky breasts and trim figure that she flaunted with a tight half shirt exposing her midriff and yoga pants that climbed up her ass crack. It was clear she put a lot of work into her appearance and could get any guy she wanted. Let’s see if that’s still the case when I get through with her. This was going to be fun.

I combed her hair in long slow strokes to prolong her wait for what was to come. It was working. I could actually feel her shaking.

To make this cut a little more dramatic than her sister’s, I attached the #8 guard to the clippers which would take everything down to a uniform 1” of length. Without warning I moved to her side, fired up the clippers and plunged them down the center of her head. I went slower than I needed to given the raw power of my clippers, but this was showmanship now. This would likely be posted to social media 5 seconds after I finished her cut.

I made several passes over the top of her head reducing it all down to 1”, then moved to the left side. Two foot long clumps of hair tumbled into her lap as she stared in shock at all her pretty hair that no longer resided on her head.

As I sheared the hair from the back of her head, I intentionally pushed the severed locks forward into her lap rather than letting them fall backwards onto the floor. Her sister sat on the edge of her chair, one hand exploring what was left of her hair and the other recording her sister’s shearing so she could watch it later to amuse herself.

Once all the long locks had been shorn off, I removed the guard and began peeling all the hair off the back and sides. It was about this time that Ashley came out of her shocked state and realized the audience that had gathered and the number of phones that were out recording her humiliation. Her eyes filled with tears and she began quietly sobbing.

I skinned the back and sides a little higher than her sister’s and as I carved out the horseshoe on top of her head, I made the bald strip much longer and wider leaving her with just a thin strip of hair around the front and sides. I applied the flattop wax to what little hair was left and very quickly flattened the top and squared off the sides since there was far less hair left to cut.

Thinking she was about done I saw Ashley sigh and visibly relax the tension in her arms and shoulders—that is until I grabbed a large dollop of shaving cream and began spreading it  up the back and sides of her head and  down the middle of the horseshoe.

Now she was really crying. “Why mother? Why are you doing this to me?”, she wailed. Her mother ignored her comments, and I straightened her head up telling not to move so I would’t cut her. I then slowly and carefully shaved her baby smooth everywhere but that thin strip of hair around the top of her head that was about an inch wide and no more than half an inch high in front.

Now for my favorite part—I turned the chair so Ms. Ashley could behold what was left of her once glorious mane. Through tear filled eyes she stared at her reflection and then began crying harder than anyone I had ever seen before. Her gaze alternated between the mirror and the massive mound of curly red hair piled high in her lap. Of course I couldn’t hide my wide devilish grin, just the way my barber had done to me when I was in her shoes as a kid.

I’d had my fun, now I needed to move on. Plenty more naughty sheep to sheer today. I spun her around to face the stunned crowd, and removed the cape and neck strip sending red hair tumbling to the floor.

Ashley’s mom paid for the haircuts with a generous tip, then had to help her distraught daughter out of the chair and out to the car. The boys outside were not kind with their taunts, and I don’t know whether the cruelty directed towards her is warranted and honestly, I don’t really care for you see I am not the judge or jury, I am just the executioner.

“Next”

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