Brentwood School for Wayward Boys – the Barber’s Perspective

by Nathan <Nathan9001@yahoo.com>

[Author's Note: The following story follows in sequence the story titled "Brentwood School for Wayward Boys – Arrival." In this story I continue the teenager's introduction to the school, and chronicle his in-processing as he passes through the school's barbershop and receives his mandatory school haircut. This is adult entertainment and is not to be read by minors.]

Brentwood School for Wayward Boys – The Barber's Perspective

The two boys came into my shop a little past two in the afternoon. I had been expecting them, as Dr. Mr. Martin had sent over the file jacket after the Clifford Klausner boy had been admitted. I smiled. I love it when they come to see me the first time, the look of dread in their eyes. By the time I see them they have already been given the rules of school, as well as being told about the consequences for misbehavior. I could also see that the boy was sporting his wristbands. I love the bands; blue on the right wrist and green on the left. The best part is that there is no way to take them off. None of the boys seem to like them much, but they serve a purpose and they do get used to them. The beauty of the metal bands is that they take all of the control and put it in the hands of the administration. The boy had no idea of any of that yet of course, but that would change soon enough and eventually if nothing else got through to him then the bands would break him in the end. They always did sooner or later even on the toughest students.

I could see the youth look at me, the fire in his eyes. He was already dressed in the school uniform, and was wearing the collared school shirt with the Brentwood logo on the front. His was burgundy, the color it is when they are sophomores. He was also wearing the new-boy pants, as they are called. I like them. They are really just sweat pants with pockets and the school logo on them, and they fit loosely and are only held up by a tie. They are never worn with underwear. It makes it easier for us to strip them, and there isn't a belt to get in the way when it's time to paddle them. Still, the pants are creased, and look sharp, and the cream color of the boy's new pants offset the burgundy of his shirt. It's a good, crisp looking uniform.

Beside the new arrival was his mentor. I almost laughed at whom they had picked. Joseph Krause. Who would have thought? Hell, just a year ago I was cutting his hair, watching them tan his hide right in front of me before I took him down a peg and humiliated him as he cried and begged and sprouted his bone. Now he was a mentor! What a difference a year can make! Now he's showing off the facility and leading the new kid around the place, trying to give him the survival code and keeping him from being too stupid too soon. I looked at Krause, and he looked at me. I saw his face go red as he remembered, and I almost laughed as it all came back to me.

We shared something else too. We both knew that the new kid Clifford probably would never get through his appointment with me without a fight. I wasn't in any hurry and instead just wanted to savor the experience I knew was coming. Joseph on the other hand was apprehensive, and I could sense his feeling of dread as he looked for a way to get his charge through what was to come.

I had to admire Joseph and his determination. I saw him as he turned to Clifford and said: "Hey...now take it easy man.....this is the haircut deal and you gotta do this. We all have the haircuts, so just go with the flow. OK? It's just part of Indoc, OK? Don't let him get to you whatever you do!"

I saw the boy hesitate. He was shaking his head...and his long bangs hung down and his unkempt hair seemed dirty to me. He had grown his wispy sideburns down past his ears. I wondered if at fifteen he had ever shaved. It didn't look like it, and his darkening peach fuzz told me it was well past time. His hair was long on top and was down, over his collar in the back. His hair looked like something out of the early seventies. I patted the big barber chair, and picked up my clippers to get his attention. I could see his face flush, and the hesitation was instant and real.

I got right to the point: "Hop up here boy, and let's get you your haircut done. NOW."

I always say it like a command and not a suggestion; it gets their heart racing and you can see the feeling of helplessness take over as they fight it. All teenage boys love their hair, and when they are facing the barber and the clippers for the first time and they don't have any control over what's going to get cut off, it can be very intimidating. I could see him hesitating...and then his mentor was trying to keep it moving before things turned ugly for the teen.

Yeah, Joseph looked nervous, and I knew his mind was trying to find the right words to say to his new friend Clifford. It's the mentor's job to befriend the new arrival; to teach him the ways of the school, and to give him the knowledge that he needs to keep from getting his ass paddled off. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I could see that Joseph was trying hard, and from personal experience he knew the situation was delicate.

Finally, he turned to his charge and said "Cliff, man, just do it, OK? Don't make a scene, cause you already know where that goes and we all have the haircut. Just don't sweat it. This isn't the place to fight it man; I'm telling you!"

Clifford shook his head, and started to back up toward the door. I gave him a last chance. I let my eyes move sideways, to where the punishment table was waiting, and I saw him follow my gaze and when he did he gasped. I wondered how many smacks he had already had on his first morning at Brentwood.

I decided it was time. I always love to make the statement, so I did. "Clifford Klausner, this is a formal warning, and I'm not going to say this again. I told you to get into the chair. Now I'm telling you for the last time. Get into my chair now, and let me cut your hair. When I speak to you here you will do as your told. You will not be warned again in this barbershop."

That stopped him. Ahhhh, so he must have already had the paddle and I could tell he was aware of the consequences of ignoring a warning. I saw the boy's lip quiver, and I took note of the slight black dusting of darkening fuzz on his teenage lip. I decided I'd take that when I took his pubes.

Time almost seemed to stop. There were only two ways this could go, and the boy knew it as well as I. He looked around the room, and it was only the three of us. I could almost feel his mind thinking it through and trying to gauge his chances of escape. I saw him staring at the punishment table and I could see the memory of it was consuming him. He made the other choice, and came then, just in time, slowly, toward my chair, and I could see the water in his eyes as he fought back the tears. Still, he came.

Dr. Martin is a genius. During the indoctrination he takes their privacy, humiliates them when possible, and mandates they do what they are told when they are told. When coupled with the peer pressure and the constant threat of the paddle much of the fight is gone in a very short time even from the most defiant of them. It happens so fast they themselves can hardly believe the change.

This kid had no say of course in what kind of a haircut he was going to be getting and I wasn't about to ask him. It really didn't matter and the reality was that there wasn't anything he could do about it. He was finding out he wasn't in control and that was intentional and was as much a part of the haircut lesson as was the actual cutting.

The boy reluctantly got into the chair, and stared straight ahead. I took the clippers, and as they buzzed to life I could seen the teenager jump and he closed his eyes tight. He was breathing fast as I pushed the clippers into the back of his head, and then just straight up over the top and off with the bangs in a single push. He gasped and then he bit down on his lower lip as I took his hair. I could see him as he fought to stay in control as I took his locks. Again and again I swiped the clippers through the youth's matt of hair, and with each stroke of the clippers he looked better and better. Soon I had the look I was after, and the disheveled looking teen was transformed. The resulting crew cut was tight and sharp and I liked it. I liked it a lot. After I finished there was a big pile of hair on the floor under my chair.

The entire process didn't take very long, and soon he sported what we refer to as the Brentwood cut, a sharp crew cut that is about as conservative as it gets. It wasn't skin close and I don't think it's radical, although the youth would probably not agree with me. Instead, it was neat, good looking, and the very top was cut so as to form a slight flattop look. I clipped off his sideburns near the top of his ears. All in all it was a major improvement, and with the haircut he looked a lot better, as all the boys at Brentwood do when I finish with them.

I smiled then, as I prepared the next line. I knew it would get to the boy, as it always did. Still, it's a necessary part of Indoc, and it is important to humiliate them and take away their dignity. It's by breaking them down the school has been so successful and so I have never questioned the necessity of it. Besides, it's my favorite part of what I do of course and so I moved around to the side so I could watch his expression when I formed the words.

Trying to sound just so matter-of-fact, I said: "OK mister, slide those pants down now so I can take your pubic hair. You have to earn the right to have it and weather you are allowed to grow it back will depend on your future behavior."

His face flushed red, and he opened his eyes then and turned to me with an expression of shock, and of absolute surprise. I don't think he could even believe he had heard me say what I had said. Suddenly, and without a second thought he raised his voice and almost shouted: "WHAT..._f_u_c_k_ THAT! NO WAY DUDE! YOU AREN"T TAKING MY PUBES! GOD...WHAT KIND OF A...."

There was a bang as the door opened and with the sound he lost his voice and his mentor's face went white.

Of course, they had been waiting, and before Clifford could finish the sentence they came almost like a police raid. The school's punishment crews are good, strong, and well practiced, and as they entered the room they looked even eager. The boy turned, gasped, and started to bolt, but he didn't have a chance to even get out of the chair. They grasped his arms and started dragging him toward the table. Most of the new boys that I get to see end up over it, and I know I always enjoy it every time it happens.

He was screaming, and fighting, yelling "NO...OH _s_h_i_t_...NOW WAIT..WAIT _d_a_m_n_IT......_f_u_c_k_! NO! NO _d_a_m_n_IT....NO I SAID! OH _f_u_c_k_..._f_u_c_k_ YOU....YOU CANT TAKE A GUYS PUBES MAN! OH _s_h_i_t_TTTTTT!!!!!!! STOP!!!!"

They had him strapped down in less than a minute. His bubble butt was jutting up, into the air, and his muscles rippled as he fought the bonds that secured him. His mentor was red faced now....embarrassed that he had not been able to prevent this, but I could see him being careful not to interfere either.

I said as calmly as I could: "Clifford, I told you to do as you were told and I also told you that you would not be warned again in this barbershop. I meant what I said. I hope you enjoy your spanking."

With that, I gave the nod, and I could see the big man, Bernie, smile as he brought the huge institution paddle down with a resounding CRACKKKKKKKKK! With the impact, the teenager bucked his hips and his rear bounced. He screamed then, a piercing yell, the yell of a desperate teenager who has lost control and whose life seems to be coming apart on him. I don't think he was prepared for how much it hurt. He was crazy then, fighting the table as the paddle reined down on him for at least the second time in a day.

CRACKKKKKKKKK!

"STOPPPPPPPPPPPP! OH GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

CRACKKKKKKKKK!

"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!"

He was crying then, even as he bucked his hips and fought the burn that consumed his ass. Seven hits, on his pants, and then it was over. I could see them untying him then, and before the teenager could even contemplate what had happened they had dragged him back into my chair. It was almost like he had never been gone, except that he was breathing heavily and his cheeks were flushed red. He grimaced as they shoved him into the seat, and it was obvious that Bernie had set his ass on fire. I almost laughed, but held it. The boy was sucking in his snot....trying to regain his composure, the shock of what had just happened just burning into his brain almost as if the paddle was still driving the message home. He could hardly believe the speed that it had happened and it was a lesson I let sink in.

While I hesitated his mentor Krause spoke up.

"Cliff...oh God man.....you gotta do what they tell you! It's not that big of a deal. _d_a_m_n_...just do what they tell you, OK? It's not hard. Just do it. Don't talk back. Let them do whatever they want. If you do we can get out of here. Forget the hair. You can grow it back man, and it comes in fast if you behave yourself. Please dude."

Clifford was looking at his mentor, the look of absolute anger in his eyes. Maybe it was hate. I have seen the look before, and I decided to defuse it before he did something more drastic. I started talking: "Young man, I hope we don't have to repeat the lesson. Take down your pants and spread your legs. As I told you, I need to shave your pubic hair to finish your indoctrination haircut. I'm not kidding here. DO IT NOW."

He was whimpering then...and he looked at me and he slowly moved his head back and forth. Then he started talking, almost in a whisper: "Please.....I.....hic....I don't want to. I....you....you can't do that....I mean...my dad won't let...."

I never let him finish. I nodded to the two guards and they just reached over and grabbed the boy and jerked the teenager out of my chair again even as he was talking back to me. The look of surprise on his face was priceless. He panicked then, it all happening so fast he couldn't believe it. He started screaming....fighting them as they pulled him to the table and jerked him over it once again. He was fighting this time like a madman, and as soon as they had his wrists secured they went to work on securing his ankles.

He was screaming the entire time: "STOP...STOP...GOD..PLEASE FOR GOD'S SAKE! YOU CANT DO THIS! YOU CAN'T!!!!! I WANT TO CALL MY DAD!!!!!"

As they got his legs tied apart into that perfect, inverted "V", they took the waistband of his white pants and with a jerk they slid them down, all the way to the boy's knees. As they came down the youth gasped as his naked ass was exposed. In the Indoc classroom I knew he had been warned that a second paddling was always on the bare, but it was still a surprise as those words were made real and he felt his unprotected bottom jutting up into the air and waiting almost eagerly for the paddle to be delivered. It was already glowing pink from his first paddling and I knew it already felt as if it was on fire. I knew too what he was thinking and I almost laughed.

He was desperate. This couldn't be happening! Oh God! He bucked his hips as his flushed bottom was exposed and as he did so his balls could be seen hanging down free in their sac. For him it was just so humiliating! I knew he was embarrassed beyond measure, and also afraid, and that's when he started pleading, as the air touched his pink ass and his balls swung free in view of everyone.

As he shouted out his begging, his adolescent voice cracking as he talked. As he begged, I stared at his little bud hole all puckered and exposed and oh-so-tight. He had a tiny ring of hair around it, and as he jerked his legs you could see his muscles tighten and his hole contract even tighter with his fear.

"OK...OK MAN...ALRIGHT I SAID.....ALRIGHTTTTTTTTTTTT....I GIVE MAN! DON'T...NOT AGAIN. OH GOD....PLEASE MAN! PLEASEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

I looked at the teenager and as our eyes met I said: "Clifford, I told you that you would not receive a second warning. In the future, I'd remember that. A bare bottom spanking isn't worth it, and now I guess, it is time you found that out for yourself."

The boy was looking back over his shoulder at me, and I watched him then as he turned his gaze to the big man who had just picked up the paddle again. He looked so helpless, with his bright pink little bottom jutting up into the air, perched high and oh-so-round, up and ready and almost begging to be paddled. He realized he had blown it...that by hesitating and resisting his chances had run out. There was nothing he could do, and the feeling of being so totally helpless, so totally exposed, his bare ass forced up in the air and his legs spread wide and eager was almost more than he could take. It was a nightmare, only it was real. That's when he started begging with desperation, as he saw the big paddle and the man getting ready to swing it:

"Please...PLEASE mister...don't...don't hit me with...CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK"

"OH _f_u_c_k_KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!" he screamed.

The big paddle slammed into the youth's naked buttocks with a vengeance, and the impact was so hard that I saw the boy's balls swing forward and disappear between his legs. The impact cut off the teenagers begging like a knife cuts butter, and his eyes flushed wide and his mouth opened in shock. The pain ripped through him, the way it does when the bottom's been warmed up previously and the sensitive skin is taking the board directly for the first time. Just wood against skin, and there is NOTHING that burns like that!

The boy screamed again then, just as the paddle hit home for a second time: CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK"

"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

He was bucking the entire table then, his hips jerking sideways and up and down as he tried to desperately dodge the onslaught. The board was literally ripping into his naked ass, and with each impact the imprint of the big paddle left a mark that was bright, red, intense, and defined. I knew as I watched that the fire was burning with an intensity that was unlike anything Clifford Klausner had ever felt before. Way beyond. His entire ass was burning as if it was on fire, the heat as intense as a griddle and the flame radiating across his red fanny. The teenager was babbling then, just screaming out as he made the useless gestures as he fought to dodge the blows that were consuming him.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

"OH GOD...PLEASE!!!!"

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

"_s_h_i_t_TTTTT...STOP! STOP!!!! I'M DYING!!!!!!"

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OH GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD! STOPPPP! STOP! I'm..I'm SORRYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!"

The teenager bucked and jerked and the table rocked from his struggles. Still the paddling continued, one blow after another, hard and deep and each one literally pulverizing itself into the teenager's rear. His dick flopped and his balls swung forward with each blow, the impact so hard that his prick was thrown forward until it literally slapped his belly. With each crack of the paddle his dick slapped his belly again and again, growing harder and harder with each impact. Soon it had grown so hard it was literally stiff and eager, and while the youth was aware of what it was doing he was totally powerless to stop it from happening. Soon, I could see it jutting out of his pubic bush almost as if it was seeking a woman. The lad had a big prick, and with a thickness that surprised me.

The paddling went on for almost five minutes, with a hit approximately every twenty seconds, one after another. I don't think the boy could believe how long it lasted. The slight pauses between the blows allowed the burn to intensify, and his nerve endings were on fire and almost bursting as they took another blow and then another on his naked skin.

One after the other he took his punishment, the pain in his ass increasing with each and ever one. The contrast this time was stark when compared to the pants-on spanking he had just had, and the blows came harder, burning into his bare skin like a nuclear fire. Further, this time he received all fifteen, one for each year of his life and each one burned like a thousand wasps.

Finally, after what had to seem like an eternity for the misbehaving teenager, it was done and the boy's ass was glowing cherry red, as bright as an ass can be before it turns purple. His prick was still rock hard, jutting upward between his legs, stiff and hard like only a teenage boy's dick can be. The boy was sobbing then, the tears flooding out of his face and his ass on fire. He just slobbered, the snot dripping out of his nose and the feeling so intense it owned him.

When they were done they jerked him off the table for the second time, and pulled his pants up, where his big boner bulged out the fabric. Then, they dragged him back over to my chair, and pulled him back up into place one more time.

He grunted loudly when they sat him down and his hot ass contacted my chair, and I could see the boy looking at me, his ass burning so badly he could think of nothing else. I had him, and he knew it; the defeat registered in his eyes. He had snot dripping from his nose, and he wiped it off with his hand.

I said it again: "Alright Clifford, you sure are a stubborn one. I will not repeat myself again. Unless your very red bottom wants another naked session with my paddle, right now, I'd suggest you get those pants down and spread your legs for the rest of your haircut. You have five seconds to comply."

He stared, and sucked in his snot and wiped his tears. I counted out "ONE."

The boy looked at me. He didn't make the mistake of challenging me again. Defeated, he reached down to the sides of his pants without any hesitation. We were getting somewhere! I never got to "two." I saw him arch up, taking the weight off of his bottom, and then, his hands literally quivering, he slid down his school sweat pants and spread his legs. As they came down his boner popped up from his bush and slapped his belly, and I noticed the end was oozing fluid and the big eye on the tip was anointed with a bead of precum. He was crying then, totally defeated, the humiliation of what was happening perhaps almost as bad as the burn of the paddle.

I gave the kid no mercy. I said "WIDER MISTER."

The teenager didn't hesitate; he spread his legs wider and I almost laughed at how quickly he did it. He sure looked funny there with his big boner stiff and jutting up from his teenage bush. His new friend and mentor was right beside him, the teenager staring down at Clifford's exposed crotch and jutting _c_o_c_k_. I could tell that his previous look of uneasiness had been replaced with one of keen interest. Being stared at by the other teenager was almost more than Clifford could handle. His face was glowing red, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as everyone in the room stared at him holding his legs wide apart, exposing his jutting erection and his small matt of _s_e_x_ hair almost as if he had changed his mind and was now begging me to take it.

I made sure I praised him for his good behavior: "Thank you Clifford. Very nice. It would have been better if you had just done what you were told the first time. Now, ask me to do it."

He stared straight ahead. The fight was gone. Then he whispered: "P....Please cut off my......pubes."

I was smiling, and went for it: "Try it again mister, but this time with a Sir and say it loud enough so we can all hear you."

He closed his eyes. Then, he said "Ahhhh, pl....please....pl..PLEASE.....SHAVE OFF MY PUBES SIR."

Yes! I was smiling, and I looked at Bernie and he winked back at me. Then I turned back to the boy and said: "Good Clifford. I'll be glad to do that for you. Now, hold still and keep those legs spread so I can finish your haircut."

Then, with a click, I pushed the start button on my clippers and they buzzed to life. The youth didn't move.....he kept his legs spread like a good little boy. I took my left hand and gently gripped the head of the boy's prick to so I could hold it out of the way. The boy gasped, and then his mouth opened agape as moved his eyes and watched me pass the clippers through his little tight mound of _s_e_x_ hair that had taken him fifteen years to grow. The tears flowed down his face but he didn't make a sound, and there wasn't any more resistance as I took his pubic hair and held his bone.

I squeezed the end of his dick and then lifted his prick up and out of the way, running the vibrating clippers up under his pole, and then over his balls. I could feel the vibration from the clippers through his _c_o_c_k_ as I squeezed on the head, and as I was holding his manhood and working the clippers at the base of his _c_o_c_k_ suddenly the vibrations were too much for him.

"Oh...OH NO!!!!!....I'm...I'M GONNA CUMM!" he yelled.

Then, without any other warning, the boy threw his head back, grunted, and started ejaculating.

I was totally surprised. The boy's mouth gasped, and with his back arched he pumped his seed up into the air. He came like a fountain, the youth blowing his wad without control. Everyone saw it happening and all eyes were on his prick. That was something new for me, and I decided to ignore it, even as the boy grunted out his feeling and his semen flooded his crotch.

The first shot from the teenager laid a rope of cum that went from his chest to his navel, and then it was followed by another and another. I concentrated on working the clippers, and while he ejaculated the essence of his manhood I just kept working them and took the rest of his _s_e_x_ hair.

We finished together. I turned off the clippers about the same time as the boy finished shooting his wad. His face was crimson with embarrassment, and the two big men from the punishment team were actually laughing at the boy's little _s_e_x_ show. His entire bald crotch was now filled with his cream that had moments before resided inside his nuts. His spent prick was slimy, and the semen on his chest and belly was running down and pooling where his pubic hair had been. It was quite a load.

I took some of the teenager's cream and massaged it into the stubble of what was left of his manhood, using the boy's own spunk like shaving cream to lubricate his skin for the real shave that was next. It worked fine, and I used his spunk to slide my straight razor over his skin and soon I had his groin as smooth and silky as a baby's bottom. I squeezed off another blob of goo that was still drooling from the tip of the boy's spent dick, and smeared it over his front lip as the teen whimpered. There was enough left on his stomach to lubricate his rosy flushed cheeks.

Then, I took my straight razor and made the passes that shaved his face and lip, cleaning him up and making him look baby-faced and oh-so-innocent. Yeah, the teenager looked like a little kid after that, his smooth face and bald _c_o_c_k_ looking more like a ten year old than that of a developing teenager.

The tears were in his eyes, and he was just sitting there all shaved and sporting a nice, fresh haircut. I took a hot cloth and wiped his lip. Then I did his face and then his crotch, and after that I gave him a nice friendly pat on the top of his head. I slapped on the after-shave, the trade of every barber, and he winched at he felt the sting. I dabbed another splash on his bald mound, and he yelped as the alcohol did its work.

After that, I helped him up, and then I pulled his pants up over his spent _c_o_c_k_ that was still drooling the last of his load. He turned to me, and when I saw his face he reminded me of a much younger kid. On a whim I reached behind me into a jar and then handed him back a green sucker. I almost laughed as he took it.

With that, the two boys turned and left the shop, the mentor leading the way and the new boy, following behind, sporting his baby-face and sharp Brentwood haircut, his balls empty and his hands rubbing his well paddled bottom.