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"The shortest haircut I've ever had". by Thebarbered1


Nice to be back after having been offline a little while. I've recently been sent a couple of stories by someone I know. They weren't written by him, or by myself, and he said came from another forum. I'm not sure which. Anyway, here's the other one of them. I've not changed it, except for making a few corrections to grammar and wording, and I've added a tiny bit at the end to round it off. While hoping you enjoy it, if anyone here is the writer of this story, or knows where it came from, I do apologise….

"The shortest haircut I've ever had".

I was due for a haircut as it had got around to about 6 weeks since my last one, and it had grown out quite a lot. With my hair fetish, the butterflies were starting at the thought of it, and my mind was running through all the scenarios of how short I should go. I always want to go short but end up going conservative, because in my mind, if I was to go really short, it would feel like people could see through the haircut and know you have a fetish.
I always get my haircut by ladies and much prefer barber shops as opposed to salons. I think I've always find is I wish the haircut was shorter, and I've always fantasised about a barberette that totally dominates me in the chair, holding my head firmly in place as she mercilessly shears my hair a lot shorter than I want, the feeling of the cape done up tightly, the buzzing of the clippers, watching helplessly as your hair is stripped from your head, knowing it's going to be way shorter than you want, but lost in the feelings and unable to do anything about it anyway.
Sometimes you want to be careful what you wish for, this is what happened to me a few days ago……..
I did my normal and walked past the barber shop, and saw a lady sitting there waiting for her next customer, or in her case, her next victim. I decided to go for it and walking in with my heart pounding in my chest. As I entered, she motioned me to the big barber's chair. My barber today was a 30's something lady of Middle Eastern origin, she had her hair pulled back into a bun, and she looked no nonsense. As I sat down, she said to me, "so how short are we going today?" - there was no hello or how are you, or how would you like your hair cut? She was straight to the point. She wrapped a paper towel tightly around my neck and then caped me, doing it up very tightly using about 3 snaps, not just one. What a start this was!. I was flustered and very nervous, even more that it usually did. My heart was beating so strongly, I was sure she would hear it, and my mouth went instantly dry. I managed to stammer out to her that I wanted a number 2 through the sides with a 1 around the edges, and wanted the same through the back but with a slight fade at the bottom, as I liked around the hairline short.
"You want a number 1 fade then?", she asked. Thinking that wasn't really what I asked for, I started to speak, but she interrupted me and said "that's what it's called next time you ask for number 1 fade", and then she turned her back to me and grabbed the Wahl supertapers off the hook, and fitted the number 1 guard to them. Clicking them on, the deep humming filled the room and she walked behind me, placed her hand on the top of my head and forced my chin onto my chest. Forcefully holding my head in place, I then felt the clippers touch the back of my neck, and shivered in anticipation.
Slowly they were pushed firmly up my neck, and feeling them reach the occipital bone I expected them to flick out throwing the hair off to start a new strip, but they didn't. They just kept running slowly straight up my head, they must have been at least level with the tops of my ears, before she flicked them and started a new strip. Very slowly and methodically she ran the clippers over the back of my head until she was satisfied with her work. Then the clippers were moved from the back up towards my right ear and bending it down she stripped the side the full width of the clippers, then she did the same with the left side, all the while holding my head firmly in place, her hand on my forehead.
I was looking in the mirror at how much hair had been taken off. With the light the on the sides of my head, it looked bald. This was going to be short. I had no idea just how short it was going to be. After dusting me off, next was a number 4 that was run up to the temple and back to just about the crown area to thin out the hair a little. Then, she used a number 2 to even out the sides and back and taper it in to the number 1. Once again the hair was piled up all over the cape, as this very aggressive barberette slowly clipped my hair shorter and shorter, all the while dominating me while doing it. She was in complete control and didn't she know it? This was certainly a lady who had a hair fetish herself – either that, or who had picked up that I did, as she seemed to be really enjoying herself and was definitely taking her time. I was so turned on I felt like I was going to explode, even though I knew it was way too short, it was the most amazing haircut I'd ever been given.
Once again the clippers were flicked off, and she dusted me down until the cape was clean of hair. Picking up the clippers again, she dusted them off as well, and then oiled them. Looking at my hair, it was super short, but unbeknownst to me, still not short enough for this barber. She held the clippers up and snapped them on again opening and closing the blades with no guard on to work the oil, and as if to show me, she pushed the blades fully shut so they cut the shortest, not so much cut as shave, she walked slowly around behind me. Once again my head was pushed forward and held exposing my neck to her. I'm sure I didn't breathe for a second; she must be going to edge up the back using the big clippers instead of the edging trimmers. I felt the steel on my neck, having been running for a while, were vibrating and warm, and, after hesitating, I felt them run slowly up my neck, nibbling, shaving the hair off, and instead of stopping at the hairline they were pushed through it up to the occipital bone. Again and again the Wahl's were run up and down my neck until she was satisfied. My head was repositioned and my ear bent firmly down and my sides were given the same treatment, going about 1.5 inches above the ear. Once again, as if knowing how much I loved the feelings and sounds, she really took her time shaving around both of my ears. When she snapped off the clippers all I could see on the sides of my head above my ears was the faintest shadow of stubble - I had been whitewalled.
If I thought there was no way it could be taken any shorter I was wrong. Next, after another good dusting off, the high pitched buzz of the edging trimmers filled the room, and with my ears being held and bent, a high arch was shaved around both ears, then the sides and the back of my neck were both given the same treatment, I could feel the edger's shaving up above my hairline. Both of my ears by this time, were bright red from being bent over. She then dusted me off again, even bending my ears out of the way to do that thoroughly.
Finally retiring the clippers, she picked up the scissors and the top was cut short to about finger length, before then attacked with thinning shears as well, until it was as short as she wanted it. Next she put some sort of gel on the top and, without consulting me, parted my hair on the side and combed it until not a hair was out of place. As she gave me a final dusting off, I looked in the mirror and looking back at me, was a very short, old fashioned schoolboy short back and sides, but in this case it was more like a shaved back and sides.
My aggressive barberette was combing my hair and looking at it, and if I thought it was over, I was wrong. Nodding to herself, as if deciding further action was needed, she once again picked up the Wahl's and headed behind me. The buzzing sound filled the barbershop yet again, and before she could even do it I put my head down on my chest in resignation, and her hand held my head in the normal position and once again the clippers with no guard started attacking my head. This time, instead of stopping at the occipital bone they kept running to meet the other line at the top of my ears. Soon it was the sides turn and I watched as she ran the clippers with no guard the full width of the clipper blades around each ear. Soon, she'd finished and now, I could see I'd been whitewalled, apart from the shortest stubble to an inch above my eyebrows, then angling down to meet the back. After another very thorough dusting off, she picked up a mirror and showed me the back. I gasped, if I thought the sides looked short, the view from the back was extremely short, shaved up to an inch above the back of the ears, and from the back the sides looked bald.
"Short enough for you?", she asked running her fingernails lightly up the back of my almost bald neck, with a little smirk on her face. Rubber legged I walked over and paid her, and then walked outside wondering what the heck had just happened. I could feel the stares of people walking past. This was certainly, the shortest haircut I've ever had.




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