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Note: This is a continuation of sorts of a story originally posted at www.haircuttingstories.com back in 2003 titled `Queen Bea and Her Buzz’. I’ve received correspondence from several readers over the years telling me how much they enjoyed the story. For those with a liking for Femdomme barber stories, I hope you like this one too. If you haven’t read the original story, Bea is a tough, no-nonsense, former Marine captain who runs a barbershop and lets out rooms at the back of her shop to students.

Greg sat bolt upright in the chair, staring straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror. The heavy cape, tight around his neck, was incredibly uncomfortable but he didn’t dare move an inch or say anything: he knew that she wouldn’t tolerate fidgeting. His hair had hardly grown since she’d first cut it three weeks ago yet here he was again and he was dreading what was about to come. “How did I let myself get in this position?” he wondered. “I need the room. Ha!”

Bea was at the counter in front of him, taking the guard off the clippers. She flicked the switch on the clippers and looked at Greg through the mirror’s reflection. “I warned you once, but you didn’t choose to listen. So, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Who’s rules are you expected to follow here, Gregory-boy?”

Greg swallowed nervously and replied, “Yours ma’am”.

Bea moved behind him. “That’s right, mine. And if you break them rules, what happens?”

“A sore behind and a head shaving, ma’am”.

“That seems pretty damn clear to me, Gregory-boy. My razor strap, my clippers and my shiny razor blade. Nice and simple. You got a problem with that boy?”

Despite his predicament, Greg knew better than to express any doubts, or question her. He answered softly, “No ma’am”.

“All quietly spoken now, aren’t you? And that’s the way it’ll be from now on. And if you forget your manners again, I’m going to up the strapping rate and the head shaving to once a week. You want that, boy?

“No ma’am”, said Greg quietly.

Bea placed her left hand on the crown of his head firmly and barked at him, “Head down!”

Bea chuckled and said, “I just love a boy’s neck exposed like this.”

Bea’s unguarded clippers touched his neck, and just like the last time, waves of goosebumps erupted across his body. He shuddered.

“Aww, poor boy. All his locks gone three weeks ago and now this”. She chuckled again and started running the clippers up his nape and towards her hand.

“You looked like a real sissy-boy when you first came in with all that hair. Real boys have real short hair. Or shaved heads. Don’t they Gregory-boy?

“Yes ma’am”

“Then say after me, “Please ma’am please, I want to be a real boy. Please clipper and shave me, ma’am”

He closed his eyes and cringed, but said the words anyway.

“Not all quiet and mincy-like, boy. Louder!” she barked in her marine’s voice.

He felt completely helpless and tears started to well in his eyes but he yelled the words out anyway.

“Again”.

He did as he was told.

“Very good, boy”. Bea tilted his head to the right and moved her hand across to his left, pinning the ear down hard with her thumb. She raced the clippers up the side of his head in firm, steady runs. Greg started sobbing.

“You moaning boy?”

Sitting there subjected to her intense clippering, Greg felt completely powerless, unable to do anything to get himself out of this predicament. He was lost for words.

She now titled his head to the left and ran the clippers up to met her hand. “Boy, when I ask you a question, I expect an answer”.

Stumbling to control his emotions, he let out a howling sob. Bea turned the clippers off and jerked his head upright, keeping her hand on his crown.

“Your behind is going to be sore enough, soon enough, Gregory-boy so you’ll have plenty of reason to cry then. But until then.”, raising her voice, “.I don’t want any cry baby stuff going on in my chair!”

Bea was enjoying seeing the tears rolling down his face. Just about every boy who’d rented a room from her over the years ended up crying in this chair – and she loved every moment of their discomfort. Tears, followed by acceptance, followed by contrition.followed by clippering and shaving, clippering and shaving, clippering and shaving, right up to the moment they left her care. Of course, much better behaved than when they first landed in her `spot’.

“I’m giving you two minutes to pull yourself together Gregory boy, or else you’re out the door, half cropped and all. Think about it”. Bea moved from behind him, put the clippers down on the counter and walked through the curtain towards the back of the shop.

Greg was stunned and confused, terribly confused. Here was his chance to bolt.but.where would he go? Already the winter semester was underway.already his scalp was poking out.He knew there weren’t any other rooms available in town, at least for now. He couldn’t stand the way Bea imposed this haircut stuff on him, but at the same time, because Bea didn’t tolerate time wasting, he’d already found the rigid home environment perfect for studying. “I suppose for now, I can’t go anywhere”. The tears started to well up again with that thought.

Bea walked back in. “Still teary. Well, time’s up. You out of here or what?”

“I.ah.please Bea.”

“Cut the pleading, I can’t stand whiny boys. I expect an answer. Now.”

Greg took a deep breath, sighed and answered quietly, “I’m sorry ma’am. I’ll try not to cry again”.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Bea’s going to show you how to be a good boy. And you’ll find you do real well at your studies”.

“Yes ma’am”.

Bea picked the unguarded clippers up, turned them on again, walked behind him and went straight back to buzzing his head, this time from the front backwards. Within two minutes he had nothing but stubble left on his head.

“Time for my cutthroat razor, Gregory-boy”.

He winced at her words.


Bea took her time with the head shaving; it was the thing she loved most about treating `her’ boys to her chair ride. The scrap of the razor across a scalp.an unwilling scalp, to boot. “Yea-ha!” she thought to herself.

A good thirty minutes passed before she was finished. Apply shaving cream, run the head smooth; another application, smooth; a third, just for fun. Plenty of extra runs up and down the nape; it looked delicious all stretched out and taut under her gaze. Then, just to top things off, the wax rubbed across the scalp. With his pale skin, his head now took on the appearance of an off-white, glowing bowling ball.

“Done. Just like I like”. Bea removed the cape from around Greg, shook the hair from it, then hung it on the back of the neighbouring chair. She went and stood behind him. “What do you say, Gregory-boy?”

He was overwhelmed by his new appearance and he struggled to find the words he knew he was expected to respond with.

“Ah.um.ah.thank you, ah ma’am, thank you”.

“An absolute pleasure, Gregory-boy. But of course I haven’t quite finished sorting out your bad behaviour”. She moved to the counter and removed the well-worn, 24″ leather razor strap from its hook, folded it over and pulled it taut a couple of times. “Now sweep up that fluff of yours.”

Greg looked with dread at the strap in her powerful hands and thought about pleading with her but knew instantly there was no point. Unable to look at her gaze, he simply replied, “Yes ma’am” quietly. He got out of the chair and moved quickly over to the cupboard, got out the handbrush and pan and started sweeping. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead.

Bea came and sat down in her barber’s chair, resting the strap across the front of her barber’s coat. Greg was on his haunches below her, sweeping furiously. Looking at herself in the mirror, she patted his bald h
ead, and said, “Once you’re done here, get yourself off to your room, double quick. I want you in front of the mirror, bent over, pants and underpants down around your ankles, fingers touching the floor.”

“Yes ma’am” he replied feebly. A drop of sweat fell on the floor in front of him.

She picked up the strap in her left hand and dropped it over the side of the chair, letting the strap swing lazily back and forth. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity to cry like a baby when I’ve finished with that behind of yours Gregory-boy.” Bea smiled to herself in the mirror. “Plenty of opportunity.”

The End

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