The barber then asked for the paddle.
"Fuuuuuuck, _f_u_c_k_ !" Fringes long swath of hair swept out from his head as he hung upside down over the barbers lap. He realised that his "punk cool" was at risk big time now.
The barbers assistant brought out the paddle. This was a nice long frat paddle with holes in it to let the air sail through giving it a nice waffle slap on the boys ass. Before the barber took the paddle he nodded to the assistant to let the punk have a good look at what was about to strike his pretty pink arse - the huge baggy saggers no longer protecting his "punkhood"
"You aint _f_u_c_k_ing hitting my _f_u_c_k_ing punk ass wit dat _f_u_c_k_ing ting asshole," the punk yelled in his best punk accent, trying to regain control. "_f_u_c_k_ you!"
"You really do have a mouth on you dont you, little boy. What is your name, again - Timmy ??"
One of the other kids piped up, "His name is Tommy, but he likes to be called Fringe."
"Well, well, well, Tommy boy. I think we better clean out that mouth a little." The barber held a _d_i_l_d_o_ made of hard soap in his hand, the assistant had run some water over it to ensure that the outside was pliable and that some of the soap was ready to be swallowed. As the barber yanked back the rattail making the young punk scream aloud at him, he shoved the _d_i_l_d_o_ into the punked out mouth, making sure he took it in enough that he wouldnt be able to slip it out easily.
The young punk was thrashing on the barbers knee now, trying to spit out the soapy _d_i_l_d_o_ so he could use his foul mouth some more. He didnt like the taste of this soap bubbling in his mouth and with all his thrashing about, he had to swallow far too often getting the lovely taste of soap down his gullet.
He knew he must look like a total twat with this soapy _d_i_l_d_o_ sticking out of his previously totally cool, awesome, swearing punk mouth. How could they do this to him - HIM - the swaggering punk slinking down the streets in his super saggers hanging off his boxered ass.
The barber took the paddle from his assistant now. "Settle down, pansy boy," he raised the paddle high and came down on the punks ass hard. The heavy hit made the rattail fly in the air, back down over the boys head so he could see it now. The young punk thought, "Well at least I still have my cool hair - the _f_u_c_k_er didnt pull it out of my head afterall."
The pink ass reddened with a few more slaps. The young boy spat out the _d_i_l_d_o_ finally, working it to the front of his mouth.
"You _f_u_c_k_ER!" he yelled before catching his breath. He had to be careful because he almost felt a snivel coming on. He couldnt be caught crying like a baby in front of these other kids or he would never be able to waddle down the streets in his saggin jeans again.
The barber laughed at the boys attempts to remain punk. He laid into the ass with a vengeance, letting the redness get brighter and brighter. "How do you like this little Tommy."
"_f_u_c_k_ you, Im Fringe - got it," aaaaahhhhh, he had to stop yelling cause he could feel a tear coming on.
The paddle was stinging worse than anything he had ever felt. His butt cheeks were red, but so were his face cheeks with embarrassment. The barber did not relent, he continued to swat the plush punk cheeks with the hard paddle. The sound of the air swishing through the paddle made the boy cringe.
Finally, it happened, the punk began to cry in earnest. It began with a small sniffle, then a catch of air, then a bigger sniffle and sucking in his nose to pull in the snot, then one tear slid down the length of his aquiline nose, held to the tip a bit then dripped into the long bleached bangs that hung in mid-air now. The drop finally left the _s_e_x_y long hair and fell to the floor - at once a flood of tears began to flow and the punk was sobbing - or rather the little boy was sobbing like a baby. The barber gave the paddle back to his assistant. He took the time to smooth over the punks little tight ass with the palm of his cooling hand. He gave the young man a few more slaps with his hand, but they were gentle and more soothing than spanking. Fringe began to regain some composure. He thought the punishment must be almost over afterall his ass was stinging and he had been humiliated.
As the barber continued to caress the punks ass, the boy was surprised to feel his snake stiffen underneath - he realised where he was - in a barber chair with his _s_e_x_y, cool, awesome, _f_u_c_k_ing long hair - huge bangs - a swath of bleached hair hanging like a curtain over his head and face - his giant long rattail - his pride and joy - his rod stiffened more - and this barber could not legally cut his precious long hair - his _c_o_c_k_ hardened completely now throbbing at the exciting predicament while still embarrassing - How would he explain the hardon ?? But he knew the barber wouldnt want the other boys to know that some punk nearly came on his knee. Then the barber surprised him.
"Whoah, what do we have here, young Tommy," he laughed. "I think you must like getting spanked. You really are a little boy - getting a little boner over your spanked ass."
He picked the young, tough punk up by his ankles. Suddenly, Tommy remembered how much he depended on his boots to make him taller, his huge baggy pants to make him look bigger, his saggin to make him look stronger and tougher. Here he was now - naked ass - held by his ankles like a baby about to get a swat to start breathing. The barber held the young punk so that his hardon pointed toward the other boys and the big window. With his bare hand, he swatted the boys already sore ass. Tommy cried again and wished he were somewhere else - maybe on his bed with his pillow between his legs masturbating over cutting somebody elses hair - Anywhere but here.
The hotrod started to shrink when the real pain returned. His face was still beet red with embarrassment. He was being depunked and he knew it. He could wait for the barber to put him down, grab his huge baggy pants that spread like a table cloth between his legs - and he could slither out of here - still saggin his jeaned ass down the street in front of people who didnt know how humiliated he had been. He held on to this image to keep some punkness in him.
The barber finally stopped slapping what he was now calling the babys ass. He set Tommy down in the barber chair, facing the mirrors. He gave him a pair of silk boxers - where he got them nobody knew - but they were fairly cool - though not the $300.00 pairs the punk was used to.
The young punk thought his humiliation was ended.