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Mr. Sig and Sven, the Swede by Manny
As my plane began its approach to land in Atlanta, my pulse quickened. Not only would this be my first visit to the U.S., but I was on the verge of teaching one of the most enjoyable lessons ever. The object of this trip was a very domineering, Alpha-male who used two tools quite effectively in stripping fellows of their dignity, pride and esteem. I savored the those of this self-appointed mission in bringing that odious man down very low by forcefully administering an unforgettable dose of his own medicine. He would finally be on the receiving end of a punishing set of clippers and a paddle!
I had heard many stories about this Mr. Sig from exchange students and even my peers who had visited the Beecher Ward Military Academy on faculty exchanges. My elite preparatory school in Stockholm had been in a partnership with BW for several years and almost everyone who went to that elite school in rural Georgia for spoiled rich kids came back with tales of the infamous Mr. Sig.
With the students, Mr. Sig's dual-roles as campus barber and campus chaplain enabled him to use both the clippers and the paddle -- his tools of subjugation -- almost from the first moment the vulnerable scrubs stepped onto campus. No sooner had their doting, solicitous parents kissed them farewell than the pampered lads with their salon coifs were marched down to stand in line at Mr. Sig's barber shop in the main Administrative building. Off came their hair, their individualism, their say in how they looked. Mr. Sig taunted and mocked them as they sat silently in his chair. Under the white cape that he pulled suffocatingly tight around their quivering necks, they watched in fear as the domineering barber clipped away their old life and sent them scurrying from the shop bald and beaten down. For some, the haircut was enough. But for many others, they would find themselves in the back, private section of Mr. Sig's campus barbershop feeling the paddle on their precious fannies.
Mr. Sig's paddled delivered stinging smacks on the fanny of any who dared stick out or mouth off. Generally, two or three sessions in the back of the barbershop under the tutelage of the sturdy paddle were more than adequate to tame the most rebellious and independent students. They emerged from the discipline sessions meek and submissive.
What had intrigued my more, however, were the accounts several of my peers who had gone to visit BW came home with. There were the two male teachers who had gone for a full year and returned to Sweden bald and insecure. Strangely, they remembered their time at BW fondly and longed to return. Mr. Sig was both this villain and also a hero in their memories.
But there was also the instance of a my very close friend on the faculty, the guidance counselor Erik Carlsson, who had gone for just a few days and had in that short time been manhandled by Mr. Sig, returning transformed like the others. Erik had left Sweden with a thick mane of glistening blond hair -- something he was always quite vain about and very proud of -- but who had returned home less than a week later shaved BALD and quite humble. At first he wouldn't talk to Sven about the haircut and how he -- a preening self-absorbed man who had flaunted shoulder-length locks -- had returned transformed babbling on not about himself but about Mr. Sig.
Eventually, I got a full account out of him over a few glasses of vodka. Erik's story was familiar, but with a very quick timetable. Mr. Sig had charmed and seduced him into a sense of closeness, even intimacy, and then suddenly strong armed him into the receiving end of an induction cut followed by a paddling session that stung. What shocked me the most was that his buddy had told me how he enjoyed the experience and even suggested he would welcome more spankings. Furthermore, he'd never grown his hair back. He kept it clipped to the bone.
Truth be told, I surprised myself by agreeing with Erik to administer him a spanking! Just the act of wrestling Erik's pants down and forcing him to lean over the desk felt empowering and energizing. But, when I brought my belt strap down punishingly hard on Erik's awaiting fanny, I felt the authority-adrenaline surge. It was intoxicating! Several times after that, I spontenously wrestled Erik prostrate over the desk and unleashed my belt on him.
From that time on, I was seized with a dream, with a mission -- to manhandle the manhandler, Mr. Sig! To use the American's same techniques and strategies to lure him in and bring him down low. Very low! To humiliate him and teach him a lesson in submission.
I, who had never liked long hair on men, began growing mine out as the surest way to bait my target, Mr. Sig. I also began angling with the school administrators to be the next participant in a faculty exchange with BW.
A year later, with beautiful blond locks approaching my shoulders, I was on the way to spending four days at BW!
I had already begun baiting my target with a series of videoconferences between myself and my BW faculty sponsor, Mr. Robert Siggenthal! During these calls, I would purposely shake my lengthy locks to send them tumbling about and fondle them in a sexy, suggestive way. Yes, I was forever mopping the thick, copious forelock that veiled one of my large green eyes away from my face. Mr. Sig's sparkling blue eyes blazed with desire as we chatted about the upcoming exchange!
And, now, in just a few minutes, outside of ATL's immigration area, I would meet Mr. Sig for the first time in person!
I ran the brush through my long hair to ensure that it would attract my prey towards the lure. To be sure, I was extremely tired of the long, bothersome hair I'd been cultivating for a year and a half. But growing my hair out and pampering it at the salon with special hot oil conditioning treatments was a small sacrifice I was willing to make in order to maximize the triumph over the odious Mr. Sig.
"Sven!" the voice rang out as I emerged through the doors that separated arriving passengers from greeters.
"I'm here, at last, Robert!" the warm response sounded as the two of us met and clasped hands in a warm shake.
Then, I upped the ante and clapped a big bear hug on my host. "It's so good to meet you in person," I murmured into Mr. Sig's ear as I pressed my body tightly against the American's.
Instantly, I felt Mr. Sig's hand grasp a shank of my blond hair and fondle it tenderly. "You are even more handsome in the living flesh than on the videoconference screen, Sven. And I'm going to ensure that your time here in unforgettable." Then Mr. Sig made his first move to establish dominance by grasping my hair firmly and yanking it just hard enough to signal to me who exactly was in control.
I allowed my head to be wrenched and pinned momentarily in an uncomfortable position. "I'm sure you will," I replied demurely. "I've heard so much about you and your program. Erik Carlsson told me to make sure I learned as much from you as possible despite the very short time frame. He's totally in awe of your program and thinks we need one just like it at our academy in Stockholm."
"Oh, how is dear Erik?" Mr. Sig asked. "Did he send me any message?"
"Not in writing. But he did say many times he wished they had barbers in Sweden like he'd experienced in America," I added. "I might be needing a haircut myself while I'm here. I've just been so busy of late, this length is getting quite bothersome." I ran my fingers through my sexy long hair and tossed it about in this alluring, carefree way.
"I will ensure that happens, Sven. Now, let's head to the car. As you might have heard, our town has no adequate hotels, so you'll be staying at my home. My wife has a nice dinner in the makings," Mr. Sig mentioned.
"Your wife?" I stammered. "I didn't realize that.....but, it's too kind of her. I certainly don't want to be a burden on you. A hotel will be fine," I said, playing hard to get after dangling myself almost directly into Mr. Sig's eager clutches.
"No, Sven," Mr. Sig said as he put his arm firmly around his shoulder and moved me authoritatively toward his car, "I insist you stay with us. Let's not hear another word!"
"I understand, yes," I answered in a very submissive tone. "As you please."
After a pleasant dinner, I excused myself reminding my hosts I'd had a long trip and needed to shower and get a good night's sleep.
"If there's anything you need, please let us know," Mr. Sig said solicitously as he escorted me to the guest suite in the basement.
"Oh, there is one thing," I noted. "Could I bother you for a hair dryer? The voltage and plugs here are different."
"No problem, I'll have one down here by the time you finish your shower. Now here are the towels you'll need," Mr. Sig said as he studied my thick, long, blond hair.
When Mr. Sig returned with the hair dryer, I was clad with a scant towel wrapped around my waist and plenty of my buff body exposed. My freshly washed hair was damp and hung in the alluring fashion of the sexy Polo cologne model.
Mr. Sig plugged the machine in. "Let me make sure this works, before I leave you to the long task for drying that overgrown mane. How much time does it take you to dry this?" he asked, grasping a shank of damp hair and taking a deep whiff of the intoxicating smell of expensive shampoo.
"Oh, forever. That's why I visit the salon in Stockholm frequently. They wash and dry it for me, brushing through it, leaving it healthy and shiny. Such a wonderful experience to have one's hair professionally washed and dried. Perhaps, as a barber, you have experience with the hair dryer."
"Oh, no. My experience is with a powerful set of fast-feed electric hair clippers. They could strip all this off in seconds!" Mr. Sig chirped gleefully as he pulled the shank of damp hair he was still grasping towards him, drawing me very close to him. "But, I'm willing to test my ability with the hair dryer right now. I know you are very tired from the trip. Here, have a seat here," Mr. Sig said guiding me towards a nearby chair.
I submitted and allowed Mr. Sig to begin a long, elaborate session of drying and brushing me lustrous locks. The host's greedy hands could not refrain from fondling the silken strands as they dried into a beautiful cascade of shimmering blond hair. Several times he would murmur during the session about looking forward to having me caped and in his barber's chair at BW.
Towards the end of the drying session, I decided to nibble at the subject of a haircut at the hands of the treacherous Mr. Sig. "You do realize all I would want is a trim," I commented innocently.
"What you might want and what you might need...just might not be the same thing," Mr. Sig replied mysteriously.
"I want just a trim -- the tips taken off. I suppose I could go a bit shorter, perhaps to the base of my collar," I asserted, knowing full well Mr. Sig did not like to be contested or contradicted.
"Oh, like the length of Erik Carlsson's hair when he arrived?" Mr. Sig asked. "Or perhaps you might prefer the length it was when he left? He did seem quite happy with his haircut, I must say."
I shuddered convincingly. "Shaved bald like a new soldier recruit?! Even the idea of that sends shivers down my spine...."
"I see that you feel quite excited at the thought of being introduced to the clippers, Sven. It will be exciting -- I guarantee that! -- in a very, very intimate way," Mr. Sig said in an endearing tone as he fondled my luminous hair and drew me close to him, inhaling deeply into the freshly washed and glimmering tresses.
"I've never had a clippers taken to my virgin locks," I moaned in a breathless voice as my eyes locked onto Mr. Sig's before the massive forelock tumbled in between the two of us.
Mr. Sig reached up and tenderly swept it aside. "You won't recognize yourself after I'm finished making you over...."
Just then, Mrs. Siggenthal's voice came echoing down the staircase into the basement. "Sven, do you need anything else before Robert and I turn in for the night? A cup of water for your night stand perhaps?"
I quickly broke free from Mr. Sig's possessive hold. "No, Ma'am. And thank you for the delicious dinner," I replied courteously, calling up from the basement. I still hadn't gotten over the fact that Mr. Sig was married. No one had ever mentioned that.
Mr. Sig grimaced at the untimely interruption. "You can dream all night long about your visit to my barbershop tomorrow, Sven. I dare say, when you lay your head on this pillow tomorrow night, things will be quite different up here," he said, as he stroked the long, beautiful, silken hair. "All this 'just a trim' chatter is reminding me very much of Erik's visit...and you know how that story ended."
I smiled to himself as I climbed in bed. Yes, I knew how that had ended. But, my visit would NOT take the same course!
I lay in bed, thinking for a few moments.
My mind drifted.
Or would it?!?!!
A jolt of panic ricocheted through me.
An image of me sitting in Mr. Sig's barber chair shaved bald flashed into my mind. I sat up in bed. My heart beat rapidly.
No!!!! I was in Georgia to teach Mr. Sig a lesson, to humble him with the paddle and clippers. Not the other way around!
But I could not shake the image. A bald head and my long, beautiful hair strewn all about the white barber's cape! My heart raced and my cock stirred.
Then a more alarming scene flashed into my mind. I watched in excited fascination as a dream Mr. Sig pulled down my pants and brought a stout paddle to my virgin fanny. In the dream, my face turned crimson and there were no long locks to hide it. I was bald and abased....and I felt a thrill of anticipation. I had never been spanked as an adult... Suddenly, I longed for Mr. Sig to take his famous paddle to ME.
I laid back down in bed. My heart was still pounding. My long, clean hair draped across my face in a bothersome way.
Yes! I would succumb to Mr. Sig. Yes, I would get clipped bald....and yes, I would feel the paddle! In fact, I would provoke Mr. Sig to paddle me hard.
I thought of the last words Mr. Sig spoke before leaving my room, "You can dream all night long about your visit to my barbershop tomorrow, Sven. I dare say, when you lay your head on this pillow tomorrow night, things will be quite different up here."
It took me forever to fall to sleep, despite the exhaustion. My eager anticipation of day two in America kept the adrenaline flowing. Day one had been full of surprises, and what would day two be like?
When I awoke with the sun shining through the windows, I was startled to find Mr. Sig, all dressed and ready to go, sitting at the side of the bed. "Good morning, Rapunzel," he murmured, stroking my golden hair. "This is a big day for you -- your visit to my barbershop for a very special haircut."
"For a trim....." I eeked out.
"If that's what you want to think, sweet Sven, go ahead. Now get up and get dressed!" Mr. Sig instructed.
I sat up and lazily pulled myself out of bed. As I walked past Mr. Sig towards the bathroom, I was stunned to feel a swift smack of Mr. Sig's hand firmly landing across my backside. The sting was intense.
"Ow!" I gasped. "What.....?"
"You overslept, Sven!" Mr. Sig said curtly. Then he grabbed me by my hair and manhandled me over a chair, easily wrenching down my pajama pants. From seemingly nowhere, Mr. Sig produced a paddle and quickly administered three stinging smacks. THWACK! THWACK!! THWACK!!!
The corporal correctional message felt sublime.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Sig!" I stammered. "That won't happen again."
"You're right about that, Goldy Locks!" he replied tersely. "Now get dressed. We have a lot of work CUT out for us today!"
I hurried into the bathroom to change. I was trying as hard as he could to get my pants and shirt on. In the midst of his haste, the silhouette of Mr. Sig appeared in the doorway. In his hand, he was brandishing a set of barber shears! He opened and closed the blades a few time, giving me some seconds to comprehend what might be happening next.
"Come here, Sven. I have something to attend to before we leave the house," Mr. Sig ordered.
"What is it?" I asked with alarm as I instinctively recoiled. I was not ready for my hair to be cut yet. I wanted the barbershop experience Erik and the others had described.
"That forelock in your eyes. We can't let the boys on campus see you pawing away at hair in your face," Mr. Sig explained.
"I'll pull my hair into a ponytail. A trim won't take care of that," I argued.
"You are not getting a trim! Since you won't come as I ordered..." Mr. Sig shouted as he lunged forward.
He grabbed me by my long hair and yanked it hard.
"Ouch!" I shrieked.
Then I felt the shears being thrust into my beautiful long hair. Mr. Sig would brutally whack off my forelock -- far above his eyebrows!! -- if I didn't act quickly.
Providentially, it was Mr. Siggenthal to the rescue. "Breakfast! Come now while it's hot!!" she called.
He froze with disappointment, but my bangs and been saved from a hideously brutal cropping!
As I slipped out of the bathroom past the steamed Mr. Sig, his hand was swift and powerful. I received another stiff spanking on the spot.
"Are you getting a trim today at the academy barbershop?" Mr. Sig snarled in my ear as he grabbed my hair and yanked me around.
"No, sir! I'm getting a haircut! Sir!" I replied instinctively.
"What kind of a haircut, Sven?" Mr. Sig continued.
"A baldy! All shaved off, like a lowly scrub recruit, sir!" I answered quickly.
"Awww, that's my boy!" Mr. Sig said, shifting into a tender voice. Then he drew me into a tender embrace and our lips locked together for the first time. I felt like I was in paradise. I dreamed of watching the clippers shave off all my lovely hair. Every last strand cut down to the scalp....again, I longed to submit to the authoritative Mr. Sig, just like Erik Carlsson and all the others before me. I too had fallen under Mr. Sig's spell and succumbed quickly. How had it happened?
Then a doubt crept into my mind....perhaps from the very first time i had heard about the famous Mr. Sig my subconscious intention had been to become submissive to his dominion. Maybe the fantasy of pulling him down and putting him in his place with a taste of his own medicine was just a mind game to bring me to America!
I felt very insecure and unsure of myself as I was driven to the BW Academy by Mr. Sig.
Once at BW, I felt like I was being treated like a new scrub arriving on campus instead of a visiting exchange professor from Sweden.
"Don't dawdle getting out of the car, Sven. We don't have all day. Move quickly! You're not Alice (although you look like her!) and this isn't Wonderland! This is an elite academy based on a military model. And the first item we need to address is that girly hair of yours!"
Now in public, it was hard accepting the public humiliation. I couldn't believe that all this was happening in front of students and even some faculty members! I cringed hearing the snickers and whispers as the two of us moved quickly through the Administrative building. Strangely, the pit feeling in my stomach felt arousing.
We rounded the corner, and there it was -- a barber pole! Twirling and shining brightly! My heart skipped a beat. I knew my long hair was an endangered species. I yearned to feel the clippers!
Mr. Sig's hand squeezed my arm tightly; the pace picked up to almost to a trot as I was forcefully guided through the hallway towards the barber shop.
And then I was standing inside, bathed in neon! I glanced in the mirror. My flowing tresses were in their full glory. Soon they would be on the cape, then on the floor, and finally in a dustbin.
"Okay. Hop in to that chair there! No dragging your feet!" Mr. Sig barked. "I will go slip into my barber tunic in back...." he said before disappearing through a curtain.
I stood frozen in the shop. It was the moment of truth. My experience was coming to a climax. What would happen? What was I really doing here?
Suddenly I wondered what had happened to his resolve to take Mr. Sig down? That was why I had come to America! Yes, something snapped, and I remembered this mission clearly.
I was consumed with adrenaline and stormed into the back, yanking the curtain down. The room was just as Erik had described it. I knew exactly where Mr. Sig's paddle was kept. I knew that physically, Mr. Sig was no match for my buff, muscular frame.
"What's going on.....?" Mr. Sig protested as I flew towards him in a furry.
In a flash, I commandeered the paddle.
I dragged Mr. Sig back into the area of the barbershop which was visible through the large plate glass windows to the students who were walking through the halls.
"What are you doing? The students....." Mr. Sig protested.
The students stopped in their tracks, amused at what was happening. No one had ever seen Mr. Sig being strong-armed before! And who was the muscular man with the long blond hair who looked like Thor?
"He's pulling Mr. Sig's pants down!" one fellow shouted gleefully.
"Look! He's got Mr. Sig's paddle!" screeched another.
"Let him have it!" a third taunted.
Then, spontaneously, the students in the hall started chanting together, "Whip his butt, whip his butt!"
My full fury was unleashed and the paddle came down hard on Mr. Sig's virgin white skin which was exposed as a "full moon" toward the hall. The first smack turned it scarlet.
Mr. Sig began sobbing. "This is so humiliating! To have this happen in front of the students!"
"Perhaps you would prefer they administer a few spankings themselves!" I laughed.
"Oh, no. Please not that!" he begged.
"Fellows! Three of you come in -- one swat each to teach this bully a lesson!" I called out.
"Can we shave his head too?" the first eager lad asked. "Like he did to us on our first day?"
I watched each of the students joyfully smack the paddle against Mr. Sig's fanny.
"Now let's shave him!" the students chanted.
Then I began stroking Mr. Sig's wavy business cut. "What do you say, Mr. Sig? Ready for a little trim now that the lads have finished your spanking?"
He looked up pleading, "I am, but I would like you to be my barber, Sven. Is that asking too much?"
"Yes, it most certainly is. Your humiliation will be complete!" I decided.
The lads were all over him, manhandling him into the chair. One opened the small drawer where the wrist and ankle belts were kept and strapped him in the chair. Another caped him up tightly.
I laughed at his fate and then brushed my own long hair tantalizingly in front of him as they switched on the clippers.
"Take that fussy business cut of his off to the bone!" I ordered.
Mr. Sig's face was consumed with embarrassment and shame. His eyes welled up with tears, but he kept them at back. The scalp turned out to be a virgin white.
Finally his humiliating haircut was over.
"Run along lads! You've had enough fun! Now it's my turn!" I stated. I pushed them out the door and closed the blinds to the shop so that it was just Mr. Sig and me inside. Then I locked the door.
Mr. Sig remained strapped in the barber's chair. I draped my long hair over his bald head and then began to kiss him.
His grief began turning to pleasure. He was enjoying it as much as I was!
"You look so sweet and innocent with no hair," I murmured.
Then, I swallowed hard and added tenderly, "And, now I'm ready for my 'trim', Mr. Sig! You'll go easy on me because you know how fond I am of my salon-length locks."
Silently I removed his cape and unfastened the belts. My knees felt like jelly.
Unleashed from his bondage, Mr. Sig's dominion rebounded with a furious intensity. He reached for the huge set of fast feed Wahl clippers. "This machine will be perfect for your little trim, Sven -- take you down to a 00000 length. Now take a seat! I don't have all day!"
Without waiting, he yanked me by my hair and forced me into the chair.
The cape was suffocatingly tight around my neck. I looked so helpless under the cape, waiting for my 'trim'. And Mr. Sig looked so powerful and domineering with clippers in hand. He was anxious for the humiliation to begin. I was anxious to submit to Mr. Sig.
Mr. Sig jerked the chair around so I faced away from the mirror. Then, I felt Mr. Sig grab me by the hair and yank my head back so that he had unobstructed access to the hairline at the top of the forehead.
The clippers struck with a vengeance and lovely blond hair fell in torrents in front of my face, to the cape. "You won't act like such a smart alec when you slink out of here as a baldy scrub, Sven!"
"No, sir, I won't!" I murmured demurely.
"And when you lay the stubbles on your pillow tonight, you won't feel sorry, will you?" he continued.
"No, sir, because you will right beside me...."
"Yes, my wife is going to her sister's house for a few days and so I will have to take care of you all by myself. I noticed a rather thick pelt on your chest and legs..."
My cock stirred....he would scrape me clean!