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When Debbie got the promotion she was really excited at the new opportunity and the significant increase in her annual salary. The only down side was that it meant that she had to re-locate and find a new place to live. Luckily someone at the new company had mentioned that they knew of a room to rent that was only 10 minutes walk away from the office where she was now based. Debbie dialled the number on the card she had been given. After a few short rings the call was answered and a rather stern voice came over the line: 

“Yes, what do you want?” 

“Hi”, Debbie said, “I’ve been given your name by someone at the place where I work. I’ve recently moved to this city and I understand that you have a room to rent”. 

“That’s correct”, she replied. 

Debbie was somewhat taken aback by the abruptness of her manner and was struggling to keep the conversation going. But, she needed the room and so persevered. 

“Well, can I come and look the room over, please?”. 

There was a long pause, so long that for a moment she thought the line had been broken, before that same harsh voice came over the handset. 

“Be here tonight at 7.30pm”, she instructed, “7.30 precisely so that I can see if you’re suitable. Dress smartly and I hope that you’re clean and tidy young lady”. 

Debbie went to answer the somewhat abrupt instructions when she realised that she had put the telephone down on her terminating the call. How rude she thought to himself. Dismissing it from her mind however she went back to her work, remembering that she had to be there on time. 

At 7.30 later that day, Debbie found himself standing outside the address written down on the card by her work colleague. It turned out to be a somewhat imposing building at the end of a long and narrow street. The windows looked dark and rather intimidating behind the tall iron gates and she could see a long gravel drive leading to an enormous oak door. Having crunched her way along the drive she pulled on the rather old-fashioned bell pull and could just hear a bell tinkling somewhere in the depths of the house. A few moments later the door opened. Standing before her was a girl – she guessed no more than 20 years old. Se was very attractive and dressed in a traditional French maid’s uniform: a plain black silk dress with short sleeves, a small white lace cap pinned to her dark brown long hair, shiny black silk stockings, and patent black leather high heeled shoes. The skirt of the dress was extremely short and only just managed to cover the girl’s panties. 

The most striking thing about the young maid however was her hair. From the front it looked simply as if she had a short, straight fringe cut high above her eyebrows in a severe straight line. But when she turned her head you could see that same blunt outline continued across the side of her head lying a good inch above the top of her ear. It was a very striking style and one that left a good deal of scalp exposed. She wondered if the bowl cut was shaved equally high across the back of her head. 

“Can I help you?” the girl asked. 

“Hi, my name is Debbie and I have an appointment at 7.30 to see Mrs Collins about a room”. 

“Follow me please”, she replied, and lead Debbie into the gloomy interior of the house. Despite the many ornate lights lining the walls it was still quite dark inside and she had to concentrate to avoid tripping over the deep pile of the carpet. She also found her eyes drawn to the brief skirt as the maid walked giving occasional glimpses of white lace frills. 

“You can wait in here – Mrs Collins will be with you shortly”, the maid instructed. 

Debbie walked into the room indicated. The walls were lined with book shelves from floor to ceiling and the room felt like it was hardly used. She spun around as she heard the tap of high heels on the wooden floor behind her. 

“Come here, let me look at you”, Mrs Collins ordered. 

Debbie took in the formidable looking figure in front of her. She was taller than her by a good three or four inches and although very slim, she had broad, powerful looking shoulders. She was dressed entirely in black which added to the seriousness of her whole appearance. But the most striking feature of all was her hair. Debbie had seen many women with short hair, but never so short and so severe as the style worn by Mrs Collins. She guessed that it must have been the work of a pair sharp hair clippers wielded by an expert stylist. She figured that it was no longer than a grade #2 on top, while the back and sides had been heavily graduated so that her scalp could be seen clearly in places. A razor had also been at work carving a harsh and clear line around her ears and across the nape of her neck. She wasn’t exactly sure why but Debbie felt nervous in front of her new prospective landlady. Something about her appearance made her want to leave this place right now and just looking at her haircut made her run a hand nervously through her own collar length hair. 

“Well, you seem presentable enough young lady and I’m glad that you turned up on time. I’m happy to rent out one of my rooms to you, so you can move your things in tomorrow. But first I think that you should read through the rental agreement, and while you do that, Celeste my maid can get things ready”. 

She passed Debbie a lengthy document to read through as she left the room to call her maid Celeste. Most of the contract seemed pretty standard stuff to Debbie and certainly the monthly rental was reasonable. Plus it was so convenient for her new job that she willingly signed the contract, not bothering to read the last couple of paragraphs. 

A week later and Debbie was comfortably settled into her new room. Although the furnishings in her room were somewhat basic, it was very convenient for work and the monthly rent much lower than anything else she had looked at. She saw very little of Mrs Collins, which was no great loss, and when they did pass in the corridor she merely nodded briefly in her direction. It had been a tough week at work and she was looking forward to unwinding in front of the television for the rest of the evening. Just as she was settling down she heard a faint knock on her door. Opening the door she saw her maid Celeste standing before her. 

“Mrs Collins wants you in the salon in exactly 15 minutes”, she instructed. 

“In the where?”, she asked. 

“The salon in the basement and we can’t be late”, she replied before crossing the room to a wardrobe in the corner. 

“Take all your clothes off – and quickly”, the maid barked, “We have to get you changed”. 

“Changed?” Debbie asked, puzzled. 

“Yes, now hurry up or I’ll have to strip you myself” the young girl instructed with a smile on her lips. 

She reluctantly started to undress feeling embarrassed at doing so in front of this young girl that she had only just met. Salon? What was all this about she thought to himself. Looking at the clock nearby she realised that they had better get a move on if she wasn’t to be late. Hurriedly undressing down to her bran and panties, Debbie then paused, not wanting to expose herself still further to the maid’s unblinking stare. But noting the harsh look on the maid’s face she slowly removed her underwear, feeling herself blush as she was left naked before the audience of one. 

“Follow me” the maid instructed. 

She was lead down into the basement and she came to a halt in front of what looked very much like a solid metal door. She pushed the heavy door open, momentarily dazzled by the bright lights inside. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness she was taken aback by the scene before her. 

The room had a floor of shiny whi
te tiles giving the place a very cold, almost clinical feel. The walls were painted in a harsh gloss white which only added to the harsh décor and cool air of the place. In the middle of the room stood an imposing barber’s chair made of what appeared to be cast iron. She remembered a similar kind of chair from childhood visits to see her younger brother being cropped at the barbers. Except that she noticed that this chair appeared to be bolted directly to the floor. Next to the chair stood a shiny steel table on which she could see 2 pairs of electric hair clippers, a pair of scissors, an old fashioned cut throat razor, shaving gel, a towel and a bowl of water. The table had a second shelf underneath on which she could what looked liked a box of hair rollers and bottles of lotion of some kind. 

She noticed that the maid had come back into the room and that she had changed her uniform however. In place of the original uniform was a pink dress – but a much shorter and much tighter fitting uniform. The abbreviated skirt hovered around mid-thigh and Debbie wondered how she could walk about without offering all a display of her panties. This was not helped by the starched white petticoats she wore underneath the dress that lifted the tiny skirt upwards and outwards. 

She was startled from her thoughts by the sudden appearance of Mrs Collins sweeping into the salon in a brisk and efficient manner. 

“Into the chair!”, she commanded. 

Debbie paused for a moment until she realised that she was speaking to her and she walked slightly unsteadily towards the imposing chair. As she lowered himself into its cold embrace she felt somehow smaller, as if her will was ebbing from her. The unforgiving leather of the chair felt cold against her skin. She heard a rustling behind her and then flinched as a heavy black PVC cape was swirled around her seated form by the maid. She felt even more trapped as the thick material enclosed her body, feeling like a glove was now physically holding her tightly into the chair. The maid pulled the cape swiftly together at her neck and she glimpsed in the large mirror placed in front of her a strap being tightly buckled. As she sat transfixed by her image in the mirror, a second cape in pink latex was placed over her shoulders and also tightly buckled at her nape. 

The maid brought a large black armchair close to where she sat trapped and Mrs Collins slowly sat in the chair – a perfect view of what was to follow. 

“You may begin”, Mrs Collins barked. 

Debbie suddenly felt her head pushed roughly to one side and a hand holding the top of her lead firmly. She saw the maid pick up a pair of the electric clippers from the table and flick the switch. The air was filled with a loud buzzing as she placed the humming blades firmly against her scalp and started to slide them firmly and quickly up the side of her head. She watched in silent horror as pieces of her hair started to rain down onto the shiny black cape The clippers worked with a brutal efficiency as they stripped hair from her head, leaving behind a startlingly short patch of freshly clippered hair. 

The maid paused momentarily to clean the sharp blades of the clippers and to sweep any loose clippings from her scalp with a small brush. But the respite was short lived as the maid turned back and pushed her head very firmly forwards. Debbie felt her chin brush against the cold surface of the cape as the firm hand moved her head. The clippers once more burst into action and she felt their sharp teeth biting into the hair at her nape. The maid showed no mercy as she stripped the hair from the back of her head and then purposefully dropped the shorn remains into her lap. 

Debbie was dismayed at the speed with which hair was piling up on the cape, her hair. She glanced across at Mrs Collins, her eyes fixed firmly on her so as not to miss a second of her harsh cropping. All too soon the clippers were working their way through the other side of her head and then across the top of her head. She tried to close her eyes, but a sharp reprimand from Mrs Collins meant she was forced to watch every part of this haircut from her worst nightmares. 

Finally the clippers were silenced and the sharp bristles of the hand brush once more swept across her denuded scalp sending scraps of her hair falling to the floor. Debbie tried to take in the radical change in her appearance, how her ears now seemed so prominent and her neck so long. She almost started to relax until she saw the maid reaching for the shaving gel. 

Cold and wet gel was now smeared liberally along her hairline around her ears and across the back of her neck. After wiping her hands on a towel, she then retrieved a small stiff brush and then began to work the gel vigorously against her skin into a lather. Satisfied with the results the maid reached for the razor – its blade glinting in the harsh lights of the salon. The maid paused and glanced at Mrs Collins for further orders. 

“Two inches”, came the response. 

In response the maid moved her head sharply to one side and began to scrape the stubble from the skin above her ear. Debbie sat still, frozen in fear, worried that the sharp blade might cut her if she moved even slightly. After several minutes the hair had been ruthlessly stripped and she was left with a broad white of bare skin above each of her ears. Once more she felt her head being pushed forward as the maid began to shave the nape. After another ten minutes of shaving she felt a towel being rubbed vigorously across the newly shaved skin. 

Mrs Collins rose slowly from her chair and walked towards her to inspect the finished haircut. She moved her head around as she scrutinised the very short style that Debbie now wore. 

“Much better” she sneered, “But we will give you a proper haircut tomorrow!”. 

To be continued… 

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