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Author?s Note: This is a Femdom / male submissive forced haircut tale. It?s hard to find haircut stories dealing with males having forced haircuts at the hands of women. I really enjoy such fantasies?hope you enjoy the tale. (Who needs whips, ropes and chains when you?ve got a barber?s chair, scissors and a set of clippers!).

Greg looked down at the newspaper in his hand and read the small ad again:

Clean room in return for chores. Only quiet, well-behaved students need apply. 52 Main Street.

Here it was, number fifty-two. A shop-front, with the words Bea?s Barber Shop in large lettering across the window flanked by painted barber poles. He hesitated for a few seconds then shrugged his shoulders.

He opened the door and a little bell tinkled above his head. The barber, a short, well-built woman of about 45, turned her head towards him. She stood behind the barber?s chair, one hand firmly planted on the back of the customer?s head, the other holding a set of shiny chrome and black clippers an inch or so from the back of his shorn neck.

?Hi, the name?s Greg, I?m here about the room. I??

?I?m Bea. Sit down? she said in a brusque tone, tossing her head in the direction of the bench seat behind her.

Her gruff manner surprised him but he didn?t say anything and made his way towards the seat.

He picked up a magazine from the pile on the end of the seat but found he couldn?t concentrate on reading anything. Haircuts and barbershops always unnerved him. Been like that since he was a little kid. Short haircuts, bad haircuts, no-say-in-the-way-it-turns-out haircuts. Haircuts; these days best left to occasional light trims and tidy ups?

Greg looked up and took in her neat, no-nonsense appearance: the blond hair cut in a blunt bob, the flat shoes, knee-length black skirt, white coat with scissors and comb in the pocket over a red turtleneck sweater.

In the mirror she caught his gaze so he smiled but she responded by straightening her stance, narrowing her eyes and tightening her mouth. His grin disappeared and he felt awkward so he quickly lowered his eyes back on to the magazine.

?Boy has she got Attitude! Yep, and with clippers, scissors and a comb too,? thought Greg uneasily.

He began to get a little edgy and soon every sound in the shop seemed magnified a hundred-fold: the high-pitched whirr of the clippers, the occasional rustle of the cape, the click-click-click of the scissors, the scraping of a razor on taut skin, the pfff-pfff-pfff of the atomizer, her steps on the linoleum. He noticed his heart was beating furiously fast.

Bea and the man in the chair didn?t exchange a word while she cut his hair. Then, after she?d finished and was removing the cape from around him, she said, ?Much better Johnny, all short ?n neat the way it should be?.

Greg looked up at Johnny. Johnny gave Bea a faint smile as he got out of the chair, dug his hand into his jeans pocket and handed her ten bucks.

?Sure Bea?thanks?.

Bea wagged a finger at him, saying in an unmistakably serious tone, ? Now its four weeks next time. You?ll start getting mistaken for a girl otherwise. Four weeks, you hear??

Johnny looked a little embarrassed, lowered his head slightly and gave her a sheepish grin. ?Sure Bea. Been a bit busy lately?.

?Doesn?t matter how busy you are, you know that. You got to know and understand neat and tidy better when you stayed here. Just because you?ve left college doesn?t mean you can start letting yourself go?.

?Won?t happen again, Bea. Sorry for that?.

She gave him a tight little smile. ?Remember, F-O-U-R weeks?.

He widened his eyes, arched his brows a little, smiled back, nodded his head then turned and left the shop.

Greg found the whole exchange weird but let the matter slide. He had his own concerns and needed to get out of that fleapit motel in a hurry now that the new semester had started.

Bea walked over and stopped a few feet in front of Greg, folded her arms and said in a blunt way, ?You saw the ad. I want a good, quiet student who?ll do chores in return for a room. How do I know that?s you??

Greg felt uncomfortable with her manner and bearing. But he made sure he kept eye contact; there weren?t any other rooms around.

?Ah?Ma?am, I really just want to get on and study. I mean it. I won?t cause you any trouble. And I?m not afraid of some hard work to pay my way, I swear?.

Bea looked at him intensely for a few seconds not saying anything. She turned away, walked to the front door and locked it, then moved to the counter and pressed a small button. A few seconds later a boy of about 18 or 19 came out from behind the curtain separating the shop from the quarters behind.

Dressed in jeans and wearing a blue dust-coat over a khaki sweat-shirt, he was lithely built, about 5? 9? and his head was shaved as smooth as a sparkling new pool ball. He had a broom in his hand and without a word or a look towards either Bea or Greg, started sweeping up the hair around the chair.

Bea turned to Greg. ?While Davey-boy?s doing his chores I?ll show you the room?.

Greg followed her out the back. For a few seconds he wondered whether living with such a woman was a good idea but he dismissed the notion; there simply weren?t a stack of alternatives about.

They walked down a dark wood-panelled hallway. As they passed the first room, Greg shot in a glance, noticing how neat it was. The desk near the door had a laptop and books on it.

Bea stopped outside the next room then removed a set of keys attached to a chain from her skirt pocket and unlocked the door. She stepped aside and waved him in, saying, ?Clean and tidy of course, the way it?s got to stay?.

Greg moved in and glanced about for a few seconds. ?Sure is. I do want it Ma?am and I?m more than happy to keep it tidy?.

?Wants are one thing, sonny. You may want the room but I need you to be well behaved. At all times?.

Greg started to say ?Relax Lady!? but he caught himself.

?You stay here then you follow the rules. No mucking about. Ever. That clear??

He gave her a little smile. ?It?s your house, Bea. I?ve got studying to get on with?.

She folded her arms again and glared at him intensely.

?Let?s get things clear; I?m not one for wasting time on arguing with boys living under my roof. You?ve got to behave yourself and do as I say. And if you don?t, then you?ll know about it. It might mean a grounding, some extra chores, my trusty old razor strap on your butt or whatever else I decide.?

Greg heard the door close on the room next door. ?Razor strap? But I??

She cut him off straight away. ?My house, my rules. You start acting out of order then you?ll be getting a punishment. You don?t like my rules then you leave right now. Your choice.?

To be told in such blunt terms that if he broke rules he?d be punished like a kid stunned him. He suddenly felt like he was about seven years old again; his throat began to dry out. He swallowed nervously and looked out the window. ?Suppose I can always look elsewhere if it gets too hot here? he reassured himself.

He turned back to her. ?Ma?am, it?s your house, your rules?.

?Alright then, you can move straight in after we do some tidying up. Follow me?.

Greg wasn?t really sure what she meant ? everything about this place seemed pretty tidy to him. He followed her down the hall back in to the shopfront.

Once there he noticed the photos of Bea next to the mirror. One showed her in a formal pose wearing a marine?s uniform. An officer?s uniform. Another showed her in uniform smiling, clippers in hand, standing behind a recruit seated in a barber?s chair.

Bea was at the bench under the mirror, tearing off some tissue paper. She noticed him staring at the photos.

?Twenty years a marine. Yes sir-re, loved the discipline. Gave me my trade and I made it to captain. Ran the Marine?s barber school down in Texas?.

?If you don?t mind me asking, why?d you leave??

?Had to look after Mama. She?s been gone now a while, so here I am. And here you are? she said pointing to the barber chair.

Greg?s thoughts started swirling.

?Hair?s got to be kept short, neat ?n tidy. Always. Go on, get in the chair.?

He wanted the room badly and by now he knew better than to say anything or question her; he moved nervously to the chair.

Bea picked up a cape, made her way behind him and swirled it round his seated body. As she buttoned it up, all Greg?s fears of haircuts started to swamp his emotions.

They caught each other?s gaze in the mirror. Greg frowned and in a quivering voice said, ?Haven?t been one for having my hair cut much. Um?maybe just a trim, hey? An inch or two off, you know, a bit of a tidy up?.

Bea pulled herself to her full height and stared intensely at him.

?Gregory-boy, you choose to live in my place, I decide how long your hair?s to be. Got it??

He looked at her for a few seconds before answering hesitantly, ?Arr?right?arrr?sure Ma?am, sure?.

?That?s better?.

He couldn?t stand it any longer and averted her gaze.

Bea unbuttoned the cape and then did it up again two buttons higher. With the cape now very tight around his neck, he felt like he was in some horrible trap with no escape. He wanted desperately to run out the shop but seemed frozen to the spot.

Bea went over to the bench under the mirror and picked up the chrome and black clippers. She removed the large plastic guard from the blade face and replaced it with a much shorter one.

She went behind him and placing a hand on the back of his head, said ?Head down?, pushing it forward at the same time. She then brushed his long hair away to expose the neck.

Her hand returned to grip his head and Greg knew instantly that it wouldn?t be moving anywhere without her say so.

The clippers started up and with their intense whirring buzz, the full realisation of his predicament hit him. As the blades touched his neck, tingling goose bumps erupted across his skin. Bea let out a little chuckle; Greg blushed with embarrassment.

Bea pressed the blade closely against his skin and began running the clippers up the nape.

?Hair down to your shoulders ? that?s a ridiculous girlie look, Gregory-boy. When?s the last time you had it cut??

Greg was in a state of shock ? clippers hadn?t touched his head since he was about ten years old. He mumbled ? A trim about nine, ten months ago?.

?Too long ago, Gregory-boy, far too long ago. There?ll be no more silly business with your hair from now on. You?ll be in my chair first Friday of each month. That clear??

She tilted his head to the left then ran the clippers above his right ear.

?Um?guess so Ma?am, guess so?

?No need to guess, Gregory-boy. You?ll be here alright, I?m certain of that?.

Greg?s mouth and throat were now bone dry and he swallowed a couple of times before answering. ?Yes Ma?am?.

She turned his head again and said, ?You?re learning fast. I?m pretty sure with the right sort of firm guidance and discipline you?ll make a good student yet?.

As he watched his long hair tumbling into his lap Greg?s body gave an involuntary shudder. Hair, his long hair; he closed his eyes, feeling like he was drowning in a sea of falling hair.

Bea chuckled, ?Yes, a nice even Number Three will do for starters?.

The clippers were now doing passes at least two inches above Greg?s ears. Another body tremor.

Bee drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

?You saw that boy Davey before. He?s a student too, living in the room next to yours?.

?Davey-boy has a day off from school every Tuesday. So every Tuesday he sits there in his room studying. And he waits for me to ring my bell. When that bell goes, he knows he?s got to be out here quick smart to do some sweeping?.

?And when I close for the day, Davey comes out here cleaning and polishing everything from top to bottom. Spotless like I like it. Floors, chair, mirrors, benches, sink, taps, counter, razors, blades and anything else I want him to do. That?s Davey?s Tuesday – helps pay for his room and upkeep?.

The clippers did a run straight up from Greg?s nape right across the middle of his head then to the front.

?Now what day do you get off from school, Gregory-Boy??

The clippers did another pass from the back, again straight up the middle and to the front.

?I don?t get any day?s off during the week Ma?am?.

?No problems, Gregory-boy. I work till 2 pm on Saturdays so you?ll do Saturdays then. The place needs keeping spic ?n span at least twice a week so the Saturday?s & Tuesday?s fit in real well?.

Greg was flabbergasted but before he could gather his thoughts or say anything Bea said, ?Of course Davey-boy?s on a full day while you aren?t. That means you?ll owe me some hours. Maybe I?ll get you working one night during the week on something. I?ll sort the time and duties out. Alright??

He couldn?t respond; he was too stunned with what was happening to him and by what she was telling him.

?Cat got your tongue Gregory-boy??

?Sorry Ma?am?? he hesitated ??ah?Saturday?s I?m working here?.

?That?s better. You don?t want to forget your manners now or you may well end up like Davey-boy, with a sore behind and a head as clean and polished as a bowling ball?.

Greg opened his eyes and raised his head slightly, catching Bea?s smirk in the mirror.

?That?s right Gregory-boy, first Tuesday of each month he feels my strap on his behind then I get to work with my brush, cream, razor and wax. His head gets a good and proper clean and polish?.

She let the words sink in then said, ?He raised his voice once too often so now he?s got a shiny dome for six months. You want a head shaving and a sore behind boy??

?No Ma?am!? Greg answered in fear. Bea responded with a huge laugh.

? Best do what Bea says then Gregory-boy?.

?Yes Ma?am.

?Good boy?


?Mmmm, think I left the sides far too long?yes?they definitely need another run with the clippers. Now sit up straight and bend that neck low?.

He was unawares he?d slipped down into the chair and quickly sat bolt upright then bent his head forward as low as he could comfortably make it go.

?Lengthen that neck Gregory-boy!? Bea barked.

Straight away he relaxed his taut shoulders to help stretch his neck out another inch or two.

?Good?mmm?love running my clippers up a boys? exposed nape?? Bea said with a chuckle.

She walked to the counter and Greg heard the guard being taken off the blade and another clipped into place.

?Time to meet Bea?s Number One friend Gregory-boy?.

?Please, don?t take any more off!!? he screamed?

Bea laughed loudly but it quickly gave way to something far more serious. In a low, threatening voice she said, ?Don?t you ever yell at me again, boyo.?

He blushed deeply and in a soft voice apologised.

??What was that, I didn?t hear you??

?Sorry Ma?am?

?Words are cheap sonny-boy. I don?t tolerate boys with cheap tongues and bad manners?

She let her words and ominous tone float in the air, filling Greg?s mind with fears. He started pleading with her not to shave his head, promising he?d be never raise his voice at her again.

Bea said nothing, enjoying his discomfort and letting her silence play its tricks on him. Greg kept pleading with her.

?Alright, quiet down boy, quiet down. I don?t tolerate whining either.?

She waited for her words to sink in then said, ?Normally yelling at me is a head-shaving transgression. But as it?s your first offence, I?m letting you off with a warning?.

Greg started thanking her profusely but she cut him off. ?Shush!?

?Now listen up closely; next time, you?ll be getting a head as shiny as a new bowling ball. That understood??

?Yes Ma?am? he quietly replied.

?Good. Now repeat after me: Ma?am please Ma?am, shorter, shorter, shorter? ?.

He took a deep breath and repeated the words.

?I can?t hear you?

He said them again.

?Too slow, too quiet, not keen enough. I want it louder. And show some enthusiasm?.

He loudly called out the words, over and over, until they took on the rhythms of a chant.

Bea let him go on for a minute or so then cut him off.

?Perfect Gregory-boy, perfect. And of course I will, because I always aim to please. Me that is? she said, finishing off with a chuckle.

Bea stepped behind him and instantly Greg heard the clippers buzz frantically into action. Trying desperately to control his thoughts and emotions, Greg started saying to himself, ?You need the room, you need the room, you need the room, you need the room??

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