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Mr. Sig and Adam, the Alumnus by Manny
I was excited about the ten-year reunion of my class from Beecher Ward Military Academy, an elite school for troubled sons of the rich and richer set. The years I spent there really had helped turn my life around and live up to my potential. The faculty was the best, but it had been the guidance counselor/chaplain who had really helped me apply discipline to my studies and develop the character that would make me a very successful businessman. I owed Mr. Sig a lot, including my first baldy haircut, since he also functioned as the campus barber. He knew how to dish out "tough love". Some of my fellow students resented it, but I (secretly) loved him because of it.
As I brushed my hair getting ready for the kick-off cocktail and banquet, I thought back to my first day on campus -- waiting in the long line to the barbershop....waiting to shed my former self and become a "scrub" recruit. Back then, my hair had hung past my shoulders -- a visible symbol of my rebellion and independence. Mr. Sig was all too happy to humiliate me in front of the other boys by saying I was on the wrong campus, that St. Genevieve's Prep School for Girls was in the next city over. In an instant, he'd turned my hair from a beloved asset to an embarrassment. Then, with a huge set of powerful Wahl balding clippers, in a few minutes Mr. Sig turned me from a hippy into a baldy "scrub" recruit. The haircut was just the first of many transformations that would follow. I remembered what it was like feeling my bald head for the first time, walking out of Mr. Sig's campus barbershop in a daze, feeling vulnerable....and inwardly enjoying the humiliation.
Now, I had a more conservative look with my dark blond hair in a bit of a medium "executive style" -- long on top, barely off the ears and full in back. I styled the wavy locks into place and then headed towards the campus.
The Administrative Building was abuzz with people and I quickly ran into some of my classmates. We chatted and laughed about good times we had together. All the while, though, I kept my out for the man I really wanted to re-connect with, Mr. Sig.
"Has anyone seen Robert Siggenthal tonight?" I asked a group huddled by the bar.
"Thank goodness, no!" one fellow said with a scornful voice.
I wasn't surprised that some harbored bad memories of Mr. Sig. He was also the campus disciplinarian -- and his reputation with the paddle was legendary! The rumor mill reported that he used it on other faculty members and even the deans on campus -- not just students!
"Did you check out the barber shop?" another guy suggested. "He's probably back there scalping some poor soul now, as we speak!"
"He was rather heavy-handed with the clippers," I commented.
"Who are you talking about, fellows?" a familiar voice asked from behind me. I turned, and to my surprise, there he stood -- blue eyes sparkling and a toothy smile grinning from ear to ear, just as I remembered him.
"Mr. Sig!" I exclaimed. "It's great to see you after so many years!"
The other fellows I was huddled with melted away quickly, and I was left there with my old mentor.
"Well, well -- Adam McRae! It's great to have you back on campus!" he replied cheerfully, as he reached out to give me a hearty embrace.
I felt protected and warm inside as the embrace went on a little longer than it probably should have.
"I was just asking about you and one of the guys told me to check out the barbershop -- perhaps you were there giving someone a haircut!" I chuckled.
He stood back from me a ways, looking at my hair, "Seems like someone needs one! What's the matter, haven't you found a good neighborhood barber to keep your hair clipped nice and tight, Adam?"
I squirmed, feeling a bit of a reprimand. "No one cuts hair like you, Mr. Sig," I noted.
"Then, that settles it! We can catch up on what's been happening to you while I give you one!" he declared as he placed his hand on my shoulder and started to maneuver me gently but forcefully through the crowded room.
"But, Mr. Sig. I've just gotten here and haven't seen all my friends yet," I protested.
"There will be time for that once I take this thatch of yours back down to that tight crewcut you sported as a student," he stated.
"Oh, that short?" I stammered.
He ruffled my hair a bit with his fingers as we moved into the deserted hall. I knew where we were heading! It felt surreal. He had a power over me -- still! -- and I complied meekly with his instruction.
"Or perhaps a baldy 'scrub' haircut? Take all of this off! How about it, Adam? For old time sake!" Mr. Sig said, cajoling me.
He couldn't be serious.
Mr. Sig continued, "I actually was glad to see your name on the list for tonight. I understand you've become quite a successful businessman, Adam."
"All thanks to BW -- the education and guidance I received," I replied.
We arrived at the campus barbershop, and Mr. Sig pushed the door open. We were alone in a deserted part of the building. He closed the door behind us. The faint light from the parking lot that shone in through the window cast just enough light for us to see inside. Instinctively, I embraced Mr. Sig. He pulled me tightly too him and began to kiss me. I felt like I was in heaven! My wildest dreams about returning to BW after a ten-year absence and connecting to my secret love were totally fulfilled.
Mr. Sig gently stroked my face. "You were always one of my favorites. And now, here you are, a full fledged adult. Successful businessman, handsome. You seem quite poised and confident."
I drank in the praise and reveled in it. "And you are more charming and handsome than ever, Mr. Sig," I replied.
I felt his body tense up a bit and then the soft smile on his face melted away. "But, you are still in need of discipline," he said with a slight smirk on his face.
"What do you mean, Mr. Sig?" I stammered.
"Tell me about your contributions to the Alumni Society or donations to BW to help other spoiled rich lads like yourself?" he asked.
"Well, uh....there haven't been any," I answered in a sad tone.
"After all we did for you, and now you're living for yourself?!" my mentor exclaimed.
Mr. Sig began stroking my hair. We stood there in silence. I reflected on my faults and felt deep shame.
Then, he grabbed me by my hair and yanked me towards the back room. I knew what was in store for me! Being dragged by my hair was painful. Once behind the curtain divider, Mr. Sig began to unbuckle my belt. Then, he forcefully yanked down my trousers so that I was left standing with just my Fruit of the Looms on. Using sufficient force he manhandled me to a table and made me lean over it. I watched him reach for the paddle.
My heart raced. My cock stirred.
THWACK! The first blow sent a shriek through the darkness. The stinging rebuke felt gratifyingly painful.
THWACK!! THWACK!!! The next two smacks increased in intensity.
I groaned softly; Mr. Sig took a break from administering my spanking.
While I still was laid prostrate over the table, Mr. Sig asked, "What amount will you donate to the Alumni Scholarship drive, Adam?"
"$10,000 dollars," I quickly replied.
"$10,000 per year for the next five years," he corrected.
"That's quite a bit, Mr. Sig," I protested.
THWACK! THWACK!! His hand was firm and the smacks hurt.
"Okay, for the next five years!" I said to end my humiliation.
"You are such a generous soul!" Mr. Sig exclaimed, leaving me to pull up my pants. Then he began toying with my locks. "But your hair! Now it's my turn to make a little contribution towards your welfare. Go take a seat out in the shop," he instructed. "You are in desperate need of a very eye-catching haircut!"
I pulled up my pants and scurried out into the shop. Mr. Sig snapped on the lights. The blinking neon blinded me momentarily. I saw my hair totally messed up from the manhandling and spanking.
Mr. Sig cast the cape and secured it snuggly around my neck. I felt strangely comforted and safe under his cape, even though I knew it meant my pretty boy stylized hair was in great peril.
"So, what will it be, Adam?" he asked.
Did my opinion matter? I thought not.
"Barber's choice," I managed to eek out through the pain emanating from my rear end.
He began brushing my thick, wavy blond hair and smoothing it into place.
"A bit of a trim?" he suggested with a tinge of irony in his voice.
I sat still, hoping that's what he'd settle on.
"Or a spiffy short taper?" he added, reaching for the clippers.
Suddenly, I was seized with an awful thought. My stomach lurched and my mouth went dry. In my mind, an image appear of me staring in amazement at my very first haircut in that same chair over ten years ago. Shoulder-length locks all over the cape and a totally bald head. I gripped the arm rests tightly.
I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't force out the words. "Or....."
"Or what?!" Mr. Sig snapped impatiently.
Suddenly, my tongue was unloosed and the torrent of words gushed forth like a geyser, "Or a baldy scrub haircut!"
Mr. Sig smiled broadly and jerked my head back to give him good access to the floppy forelock. In a flash he drove the clippers down through the center of my head, from forehead to cowlick, scraping off a wide swath of hair. My locks tumbled to the cape.
"Good choice, Adam!" he murmured. "Good boy!"
I watched with detached interest as my nice executive hairstyle quickly succumbed to the clippers. Mr. Sig had a lot of experience stripping off hair and leaving men looking shorn and feeling vulnerable. I closed my eyes and savored the feel of the metal teeth clipping me down close to the scalp. What would people say on Monday when I returned to the office looking like a marine recruit?
When he was done, his hand caressed my clipped pate gently. He stroked it repeatedly and I felt warm, despite my hideous look.
"I'm proud of you, Adam. Thank you for enrolling in my course of adult continuing education," Mr. Sig cooed. He pulled off the cape and told me to stand.
"Now, come on back. I have something I want you to change into a new outfit before we re-join the reception."
My heart pounded furiously. What was I getting myself into? Out of a closet he pulled a pair of silken gym shorts and tee shirt with the BW crest emblazoned on it in school colors -- the outfit scrubs were handed on the first day after getting clipped bald!
"Put these on! They contrast with your expensive Bruno Magli shoes and dark socks. You will look quite ridiculous as I lead you back into the reception," Mr. Sig said with a chuckle.
I complied with total submission. I both dreaded and looked forward to my humiliation in front of everyone at the hands of Mr. Sig. The two of us walked in complete silence through the dark halls of BW. I felt smaller than an ant with my shaved head, scrub clothes and dress shoes.
Mr. Sig pushed the doors to the hall open and loudly announced, "Gentlemen! Let's have a round of applause for Alumnus Adam McRae who has just pledge $50,000 to fund a new adult education program for alumni!"
The crowd cheered, clapped...and then burst out laughing as he dragged me in to face my peers and former professors. The crimson embarrassment that painted my face confirmed to everyone that I not only funded the new program, but I was its first graduate, as well.