Sick and tired

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These past few weeks I got sick and tired of my barberette fetish. I did my utmost to arrange a session with kinky lady, sex worker or even a mistress. This time having the intention taking it to the limit. Unfortunately I didn’t succeed. One merely wanted to cut my hair in lingerie, which is not exactly what I am looking for, one didn’t  reply at all on my e-mail,  and one – I visited her a few years ago – had raised the price for her services to an unbelievable height. Double compared to my first visit. It’s a pity but cannot afford that.


So what next? Of the several barberettes I visited these past few years, I liked the last one most. Only problem is, I visited her during a short break about a full day driving from my home. Next to that, I did tempt her to cut my hair short by showing her pictures on my phone. But her response was ‘If I give you one of those haircuts, it will end up like good shot, but not really it.’

Then there’s my very sweet barberette on the other side of the border. Once – when I asked her to cut a bit more than usual – she asked me ‘Do you want to shave it?’ Her eyes and mount wide open as being very enthusiast.

That question came like thunder out of a blue sky. It was so unexpected that I quickly said ‘no’. This while my heart whispered ‘yes’. Slight problem is, that now with COVID-19 it is not advised to cross the border.


Now what? I started to surf the web for barberettes nearby the village I recently moved to. There are a lot of small businesses, operating from the home they live. Sometimes having a part of the house turned into a small salon or refurbishing the garage.

I found such a barberette close by. Only a five minute drive. On her Facebook page it was hard to see how she looked but some more surfing the web delivered a few pics. A young woman, I guess in her early thirties. She had a blond bob. I used to go mad about bobs in the past.


The pics on Facebook showed a variety of haircuts she did. Both male and female. I couldn’t help but notice there were more than average short styles, some even very short. Like a guy with a Viking haircut. Shaved back and sides, braids on top. It seemed this barberette surely was not afraid to cut ‘a bit more’. Scissor happy maybe?

After a few nights sleep and with cramps in my belly I decided to call her for an appointment. Whoops, the next day early morning. Didn’t count on it being so soon. Well, better than having the time to back out I was thinking.


That morning I was very nervous. When entering her little salon she briefly said ‘hi’ and pointed me to sit in the chair.

‘So how much do you want off? It’s really long.’

I told her about my eternal hair doubts. That in fact I let grow because I didn’t know what do with it. Or rather, not daring to go for a makeover.

‘Why not?’

I did try to explain that no matter what I wanted a hairstyle like most guys. I found that boring. So what else then?

‘You do make things hard on yourself, don’t you.’ She ran her fingers through my hair and lifted a few locks.

‘I notice your hair is thinning and by keeping it long, it will only look even less that it is. Not to mention your crown … You do know you have quite a bald spot up there?’

‘Yes I know, I hate it.’

‘And you probably also know what’s the best remedy for that and for further thinning, do you?’

‘Uhh no ….’

‘Well before the thinning gets worse and believe me people notice …. Take it in your own hands. Or rather, in my hands and let me shave you.’

‘You mean very short? ‘

‘No I mean ALL off. Trust me, I did this hundreds of times, it won’t hurt I promise.’ She said with a little smile on her face.

‘I have to warn you however. You WILL like it and probably never let it grow back.’

My heart was pounding. This is what I came in for, I wished for, but was it what I wanted? Before answering her she had already caped me tightly and had a pair of clippers in her hand.

‘So what’s it gonna be? ‘

I kept silent and nodded yes.

‘You’re absolutely sure ? No way back once I start …’

‘Just go for it …’ I replied.


She didn’t hesitate for a millisecond. With her left hand she lifted my bangs, while with her right hand she placed the clippers right at the roots of my bangs. Without a further word she ran the clippers right down the middle. Front to where my bald spot began. From that moment we didn’t speak, while she decisively shaved my head till the last of my tresses fell in my caped lap.

I imagined time stood still. But this barberette was swift. In a few minutes I was rid of my longish locks. As I looked down, I saw a pile of hair on the floor. I was thinking she was finished. Wrong.

She covered my head with thick foam, no brush just her hands. With a razor she carefully got rid of the stubble that had remained on my head.

She cleaned my up with a hot towel and removed the cape.


Once outside, looking at my watch, I saw a mere twenty minutes had past. I had waited over twenty years to take this plunge. Should I be grateful for her very strong,  maybe even dominant advice?

Well, let’s give a day or so.

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