The Depilation of Sarah

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The Depilation of Sarah


by Dreadlocks


To my loyal readers:

Another tale resurrected from the archives; recovered from an old disc drive that seemed unretrievable, save for modern technology. Of course, it has been edited for errors and grammar, and a small amount of artistic license has been taken, something I hold in reserve for stories I have penned in the past. The premise of the tale remains unchanged.



            I remember, when I was very young, going with my father to the barbershop to watch my two older brothers get their summer haircuts. The smell in the shop was intoxicating, the mixture of tonics and shaving cream permeating the air. Each of my brothers would take their turn in the chair, their three months of growth reduced to the finest stubble in a matter of a minute.

Too young to realize what was happening, I did remember the tingling sensation between my legs, in that spot that I was only just discovering as a source of pleasure. I remembered wishing that my father would use the same forcefulness that he did with my brothers, saying “Ok young lady, into the chair!”

I would sit, somewhat longingly, and imagine, as the clippers ran over my brother’s heads, that it was me in the chair. Sometimes, I could almost feel the cold steel blades on my scalp.

One time, I asked my father if I could have a haircut too. He just laughed, saying that girls are supposed to have long hair, “and besides” he said, “your mother would kill me.” He was probably right.

My mother had always been so proud of my hair. She taught me how to brush it out each morning; the long blonde tresses flowing all the way to my bottom. It wasn’t thick at all, lying perfectly flat against my head, then jet straight to the ends, which were always impeccably trimmed.

As I grew older, I realized that my interest in haircutting was more than just a passing fancy, it was quickly becoming an obsession. As the curse of puberty began, I remember seeing those first wispy hairs on my mound and wishing that they would just go away.

One day in the shower, I noticed my mother’s safety razor resting innocuously in the soap dish. I picked it up, examining it carefully for a moment. “I’m going to do it,” I said almost out loud. I moved the razor down to those wispy blonde hairs and began to shave myself for the first time. I was shaking slightly as the water from the shower ran over my body, washing the thin little hairs down my legs, to the white porcelain of the tub. I watched in amazement, as my young pussy became visible as I had always remembered it, smooth and sleek.

I got out of the shower and cleaned the mirror of the steam and looked at myself. The contrast of my pointy, budding breasts and my hairless pussy was wonderful, and in that moment, I vowed never to allow hair to grow there again.

That evening my mother came down from upstairs, saying that she needed to have a word with me. She seemed cross about something, so I followed her up the stairs and into the bathroom. I knew exactly what this was about, as she cradled a paper towel in her hand.

“You do know what these are don’t you, young lady?” She held the paper towel out in front of my face. There, to my horror, was a good portion of my pubic hair, gathered in a pile at the center of the towel. “Pull down your jeans and panties, Sarah!” she demanded.

I was so scared at that moment, I began to cry, lowering my jeans to my ankles and standing up.

“And, the panties, Sarah.” She insisted.

I winced as the words left her mouth. Slipping my fingers beneath the waistband, I slowly lowered them, exposing my now hairless pussy to my mother’s disbelieving eyes.

“Why would you do this, Sarah? You look ridiculous, you know. Why on earth would you want to shave off your pubic hair?”

Looking at her, and not knowing what she wanted to hear, I said the first thing that came to mind, which just happened to be the truth. “I hated them, so I shaved them off, Mother.” I looked down at the translucent hairs on the paper towel and in spite of my mother’s chastisement, found myself getting aroused by the sight of them. “I just like it this way. I don’t want to grow them back, Mother. Please, don’t make me.”

“Well, I think it’s rather silly that you should want to look like a little girl Sarah.” She frowned. “If it’s what you truly want, I guess I can’t stop you from shaving it. Just remember to clean the tub afterward.” Shaking her head. “I don’t want to know about it.” She walked away, a little disgusted, I think, and went back down the stairs.

I was still standing there, my jeans and panties gathered around my ankles. Unconsciously, I ran my fingers over my smooth, rounded pubis, and smiled. I carefully picked up the paper towel containing my pubic hair, neatly folding it with the hair inside. I wanted to keep it. It would be the only pubic hair I was ever going to have.

During school, there were those few embarrassing moments, especially in the locker room. I never explained to anyone why I didn’t have any hair there, but the rumors flew. Apparently, I was a slut, and shaved it to appease my many lovers. I laughed off the comments, knowing the truth of it.

I soon realized, however, that I was not the only one that shaved down there. In the showers, I began to see other girls, their pussies as hairless as my own. I no longer tried to hide the fact that I was shaved from the other girls, and in turn, they became more accepting of it, until no one even looked anymore.

Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I was the recipient of a large sum of money from the will of a relative. I won’t discuss the amount, but let’s just say it was quite sizable. My parents tried to influence my handling of the money, but there were no stipulations attached to the inheritance, so as an adult, I was free to spend the money as I saw fit.

One day, I was driving down the main street, and noticed a sign in one of the hairstyling salons. “Electrolysis! Remove that unwanted hair forever” Of course, I was skeptical, but intrigued.

Eventually, I worked up the courage to go into the shop and ask about the service. The young lady that spoke with me was very friendly, and explained the process, asking where the hair was that I wanted to have removed. I swallowed hard, and managed, “My pubic hair?”

“You want your bikini line done? I do a lot of that.” she smiled.

“No. I want all my pubic hair removed” A little more resolutely.

The smile quickly disappeared from her face, and she said that she had never done that before. After an awkward pause, the girl assured me that she could certainly perform the service, if it was what I really wanted.

“You are over eighteen, aren’t you?” To which I nodded. She then told me that the hair would need to be at least an eighth of an inch long.

I made an appointment for a week out, knowing that the hair would certainly be long enough by then. After a week, my mound was itchy, and I could barely stand to have the nasty stubble covering it, but knew that it was a necessary evil.

The next day, I woke from a restless sleep and made ready to go leave for my appointment. As I entered the shop, the young lady that greeted me the first time was nowhere to be seen. In her stead, there was a young man, only a little older than myself.

“Hi. You must be Sarah.” He smiled, asking me to accompany him to the back of the shop. In a small room was what looked like an exam table from a doctor’s office. In fact, that was exactly what it was, stirrups and all.

“Where is the girl that I made the appointment with, I thought….”

“Oh, she doesn’t do the electrolysis anymore. She’s the manager now. I do all the removal.” He smiled and gestured for me to climb up onto the table. “I was trained by her, so I know all her best tricks.” He assured.

More than a little uncomfortable, I slipped off my jeans and panties and sat up on the table. He pulled out the stirrups and positioned them down.

“Let’s have a look, shall we” He chuckled. That certainly didn’t help.

I slipped, half-naked, onto the table, trying to conceal my stubbled pussy. Placing my feet into the stirrups, he positioned them low, so that my pussy was thrusting upwards into his face. I must have turned twenty shades of red. He took a seat on a stool between my legs and began to examine my hair patterns. “I’m going to start at the top and work down, Sarah. It can be a bit painful, so you might want to grab the sides of the table so you don’t jump as I begin. Okay?”

I nodded, nervously. There I was, my pussy on display like it had never been before; on display for a young man barely older than me. To my absolute horror, I felt myself becoming aroused. ‘Oh God, no! Not now!’ I thought.

“Try to relax, Sarah. I know you’re nervous, but just try and trust me.”

Somehow, his words were soothing, and I did begin to relax. I felt a sharp pinprick, followed by a burning sensation, and I knew he had begun.

After three hours, he had completed a one-inch strip across the top of my mound. I looked down at my abbreviated bush and smiled. “Do you want me to continue, or do you want to take a break, Sarah?” We agreed that I wanted him to keep going.

He smiled, nestling back between my thighs. I started to get used to seeing his face down there, and ashamedly, began to imagine him licking me. Once again, I was starting to get aroused. It wasn’t long before it was evident to him as well.

He smiled up at me, and grabbed a tissue, gently wiping my dew-covered lips. “Moisture and electricity don’t mix too well, Sarah” We both laughed nervously as he continued. After nearly five hours, he had completed the entire mound, down to the top of my sex.

“We’ll have to stop for today, Sarah. We can continue at your next appointment.” We set it up for a week,  and as painful as it had been, I could hardly wait for the day to arrive.

Tom had knowledge of me, that no other man had privilege to. He was waiting for me patiently, as I entered the shop. “Ready for some more, Sarah?” He laughed, walking me back to the table.

I stripped more comfortably now, but not without a little bit of nervousness. Once again, I was placed in the same position, my pussy thrusting provocatively upwards. Tom ran his hands over the area that he had done the week before. “Good. No re-growth yet, Sarah. There will be some, inevitably, but we’ll take care of it when it does.” He explained the four phases of hair growth, anagen, catagen, telogen, and exogen. All I knew was that, at long last, my pubic hair was going away, permanently.

This time, Tom spread a numbing cream over my entire sex, explaining that this area was much more sensitive. Soon, I was ready, my pussy completely numb, a very weird feeling, I have to say. I didn’t like it. It was a pleasure, not to have that burning pain over and over. This session was nearly six hours, a bit of a marathon. When Tom was done, he held up a small mirror for me to see.

Poking out from between my thighs was a completely hairless, albeit, reddened pussy. Tom smiled and helped me get dressed. We set up the next appointment for three months.

As I was getting ready to go, I sat in one of the styling chairs in the front of the shop. “Cut it short, Tom!” I said, jokingly, harkening back to my dad’s instructions for my brothers.

As I started to get up, however, there was a cape descending around me and a hand placed firmly upon my shoulder, guiding me back into the chair. At once, I felt a torrent of moisture in my pussy, as Tom fastened the cape around my neck, the metal clip cold against the skin of my neck. I looked into the mirror and swallowed hard, seeing my long blonde hair cascading over my shoulders and down the back of the chair.

“Okay. How short are we going, Sarah?” I watched him in the mirror as he ran his fingers through my hair. My streaming pussy was in the driver’s seat now, as I looked into his eyes through the mirror.

“How about a crewcut, Tom.” Half kidding, but not, I was shaking like a leaf, and my voice was too. Without so much as a wink, Tom had placed an attachment on a set of clippers and had them poised on my forehead. He looked at me in the mirror, and for a beat, I thought of stopping him. Our eyes were locked on the others’ for that moment, until I lowered mine in apparent, but intended submission.

The next thirty seconds were a blur, hair falling everywhere as Tom methodically peeled the long waves of blonde silk from my head. Just as the sensation of the blades against my scalp was about to push me over the edge, there was utter silence.

I looked at myself in the mirror and giggled. “Wow!” It was all I could muster at the time.

Tom wasn’t finished, however. He took a smaller clipper and began to work on the back of my head, eventually working around to the sides, taking my hair down to practically nothing. I was only marginally surprised as he spread lather onto the back and sides of my shocking exposed head. Using a straight razor, he shaved my neck up to the base of my skull and then just a little higher. I thought the clippers were arousing, until that moment. A full inch around my ears was scraped away as well, leaving the crotch of my jeans completely soaked.

I reached up to feel the skin laid bare by Tom’s blade, starting at the base of my neck and moving up and up. I audibly gasped, realizing just how far up my neck Tom had shaved. This was nothing like the haircuts that my brothers would get. It was much, much shorter.

I wanted nothing more than to reach into my panties and bring myself to a massive orgasm right there, in the shop. I resisted the temptation momentarily, until my pussy began to speak for me. “It looks fantastic, Tom! But, you know…what do think about taking it just a little shorter.” ‘Shorter! What was I saying?’

Tom’s eyes lit up, mischievously, as he grabbed for another set of clippers and a comb. He began working on the top, the clippers over the comb, but frustratingly, I couldn’t see what he was doing. He had deliberately positioned himself between me and the mirror. Seemingly satisfied, he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Close your eyes.”

My eyes closed tight, deciding to play along, he once again lathered my head, only this time, everything but the very top was lathered. It felt warm and lovely as he began shaving me once again. I could feel the blade on the back of my head, starting at what I thought was the crown. With short, deft strokes, Tom shaved all the hair from the back of my head. After Tom finished the back, he started on the sides, shaving them just as high as the back. ‘Was I going to be totally bald?’

As he finished, he again whispered, “Open.”

I looked at my head in the mirror, and my jaw dropped. All that remained was a horseshoe-shaped ring of hair on the very top and front of my head, the back and sides were glass bald. I looked like a marine boot, and I loved it!

As I was admiring the look, Tom had gone to the front of the shop, locking up for the evening and pulling the blinds closed. To my surprise, he sat down behind me in one of the waiting chairs.

“Go ahead, Sarah. It’s what you’ve wanted to do for quite some time.” He smiled, leaning back in the chair, clasping his fingers behind his head.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I quickly unsnapped my jeans and slid them off, followed by my panties. Suddenly, the room wreaked of my sex as my slick naked bottom slid back into the chair. Slowly, and not entirely sure, I lifted my top over my naked head, my breasts falling into view in the mirror. I kicked off my sandals and I looked around. My hair was a sea of blonde streaks spread over the tiled floor, my discarded clothes floating lifeless on the surface.

I was completely naked in a barber chair, my hairless pussy streaming juices as I rubbed it slowly and deliciously. I could hear something in the background, but I was too wrapped up in my pleasure to recognize what it was.

Then I felt the warm moist lather being spread over the crown of my head. I moaned, audibly, knowing what was coming. I felt the rasp of the blade at my forehead as it carved its way back with those short, knowing strokes, until it met the hairless back, and the resistance gave way to smooth friction. Each stroke brought me closer and closer to orgasm, moaning loudly now, as my head was laid totally bare.

As my orgasm reached its peak, I felt Tom guide my free hand to my head, sliding my fingers over its glassy smooth surface. My orgasm was beyond anything I had ever experienced. I was screaming; screaming at the top of my voice as I came, over and over, one hand frantically rubbing my slick scalp, and the other my shiny smooth pussy. It was over, and I could only lay there, utterly exhausted, my most incredible fantasy come true.

I could see that watching my own explosive orgasm, had the front of Tom’s pants bulging with his own excitement. I needed to thank him; wanted to thank him for giving me something I had been waiting so long to experience.

Without him asking, I guided him into the chair, still wet with my own juices, and opened the front of his pants. He didn’t stop me, as I guided his rigid cock into my mouth, sliding it deeper with each bob of my head. Soon, and I was so grateful, I felt his hands come to rest on my slick scalp, moist from my efforts to please.

Tom arched his back as I took his cock deeper, allowing it to enter the back of my mouth, tickling that reflex that I had to squelch, for him. I began to taste the salty precum on my tongue as I doubled my efforts, his hands gripping my baldness hard as he took over, using my mouth, my head as a tool for his own pleasure. I let him. I owed him that, and so much more.

His cum hit the back of my throat and I swallowed hard, taking his seed into me, gladly. At last, he allowed my head to rise away from his waning erection. His smile elicited one of my own, although I felt a small dribble escape the corner of my mouth. I swiped at it, embarrassed, but unnecessarily.

“You are a very special lady.” Tom purred, as he stroked me, his fingers sliding over my newly exposed ear. “Thank you.”

“I’m the one who needs to thank you, Tom.” I insisted, bowing my head. “And, I want to keep thanking you, if that’s alright?” We lingered this way for a while, basking in the mutual afterglow.

Some time later, and as I was leaving the shop, Tom approached me, running a gentle hand over my bald head. “Remember, Sarah, this has to be an eighth of an inch long before our next session.”


8 responses to “The Depilation of Sarah

  1. Excellent.In detail and nicely written.Well done.It’s like unleashing your imaginative beyond the limits.Good writing but in my opinion, there shouldn’t be any sequel and quite demoralising to both unless done privately at home.Overall, splendidly written.Thanks for sharing

  2. I read this story before but it is still a worthwhile read.Brilliantly written.Enjoyed the evergreen story.Thanks for sharing.Though it may be unethical and unprofessional as the happenings took place on a business premises,I think it is perfectly fine as there are no other patrons or customers and the door to the premises is locked as well as the shutters are down away from preying eyes.Looks like someone is trying to be a good person here though he or she has a point of not elaborating but prefer to say it indirectly may be good afterall.Anyway,I think it is perfectly okay,be it home or on business premises,as long as the happenings are consensual and behind closed door.Once again, it was an enjoyable read and would greatly welcome any sequel.Thankd

  3. Hello everyone! Thanks for all the kind comments. This story was in need of a serious overhaul to get it up to the standards that I would find acceptable today. Looking back and reading some of the the writings from my ‘relative’ youth, I’m usually bit shocked over my lack of grammar and structure protocols. I’m glad some of you remember this one, and hope that you like the re-write as much as the original.


    1. Hello Claire,

      This was the story that made me take notice of you. Your description of young Sarah’s frustration with her undesired pilosity and subsequent relief when it was gone were perfect and are one of the earmarks of your stories. I think that’s the reason I identified with her immediately; her sentiments and compulsive drive mirrors my own. I too hated pubic hair as a child and started pulling it out as it grew. Alas, it became too much for me and the unsightly black coils I yanked out at the age of 10 had spread to the point I’d become somewhat of a bear by the time I finally mustered up the courage to take a razor to them at 19. Now, 45 years later, the struggle continues, outnumbered though I may be.

      At least these days there is a name for it: manscaping. A snappy, commercial catch phrase to normalise a guilty pleasure, an odd little fetish; bringing wealth and ease to the stockholders in razorblade production and epilation devices everywhere. Theirs’ is a public service almost: depilating humanity, so that we might cope with climate change as global warming engulfs the planet. For me, although I’m not quite as daring as Sarah, shaving has long since given way to epilation. Perhaps I’m still a bear, but I’m a bare bear!

      Something else that fascinated me in the original story was the sexual ambiguity of Tom, which you have changed here. He was passive sexually, perhaps even neutral. He was an admitted fantasy for Sarah and the catalyst for her extreme pleasure, while never making his desires or needs, if any, known. Something of a wild card in fact, he was an intriguing man shrouded in mystery. Although, the little bit of mystery he has lost in this version he has now gained in definition: we know that this kind and gentle soul is far from adverse to the attentions of a naked bald-headed lady in a barber chair; a delightful concept in itself.

      Thank you Claire for giving this story new life and I’m pleased and frankly, somewhat relieved to have found you again.


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