The Barber’s Line: The Mayor’s Turn

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Oh, I was in the park the day that the mayor joined the Barber’s line. She came in ready with a news crew and a bunch of cops ready to shut him down. It happened right after he shaved that beauty queen bald. Big news story when a beautiful girl like that loses it.

There was a tattoo artist and piercer there that day. A friend of the barber’s who would sometimes come with him. The guy was a real rat-faced creep, but people were letting him work on him. They’d go from the barber, dazed and newly shorn, right to his waiting needles for further humiliation.

The mayor was such an attractive women. She stood so tall. Especially in those four inch heels that she always wore. Shiny black helmet of hair and well-shaped brows. Steely blue eyes. And that milky skin…

I voted for the woman. Thought that she had real resolve. If anyone could have shut down the debauchery in that park, then it would have been her. Except she didn’t shut it down. She just watched it for a little, the barber shaving his victims and then sending some of them for tattooing and/or piercing, all of which humiliating, and then she suddenly joined the line.

The cops left, but the news crews stayed. Looking thoroughly amused, like he knew that she’d submit to him, the Barber told the mayor to strip naked. Starting to cry, she did, dumping her expensive clothing in the trash with someone’s picnic leftovers. He grabbed her breasts, massaging her nipples hard, which wasn’t difficult considering how aroused she was, before he eased her in the chair to be shorn.

“Ma’am,” he said, laughing, “You won’t recognize yourself in the mirror when we’re done with you.”

With that, he plowed his clippers into her scalp without a guard. Chunks of that once well-groomed black hair went flying everything. Just stubble left in its place. She cried harder and harder as more fell. Her legs were shaking with arousal though. She absolutely loved being stripped of her beauty and humiliated in front of the city. He ran them over her head three times unnecessarily and then finally across her brows.

“Do you wax your pussy, Ms. Mayor?” asked the Barber, giving his finger a wiggle inside it, “which, by the way, is so, so wet.”

With tears still running down her face and her lips quivering, she asked, “Yes, Sir.’

The barber just laughed at her. Then he lathered her up for her razor shave. Her nails dug into the arms of the chair to keep herself still as he scraped off the last of her hair. She looked so pathetic, just a naked and bald creature.

“Pierce her nipples and clit,” said the Barber, pulling her from the chair and throwing her towards his waiting friend, “and tattoo ‘Barber’s Customer #1000’ on the back of her head in big black letters.”

And, so, he did. We all watched him take his needles to his willing canvas of flesh. The news had a before and after on that night for everyone who wasn’t lucky enough to be present for the mayor’s humiliation.

Oh, she’s still mayor. In fact, she just got reelected. Every Saturday, she still comes down the park and waits her turn to be shaved.

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