TITLE – CHEERLEADER’S NEW DO By Shearingly
I really have this thing about the cheerleaders in our school. They are mostly good looking girls with really great hair. That’s what I like most – their hair! I go to all the games and watch them jump around, tiny skirts flying up revealing matching colored panties and lots of leg. But mostly I watch all that gorgeous hair dancing around their heads.
There were ten girls on the squad. Several of them weren’t all that special. I guess you could say they weren’t my type. But there were four girls that gave me a funny feeling below my belt whenever I saw them. I’ve known for some time that I have a hair fetish (but I didn’t know what to call it until I got a computer and explored the Internet). I would fantasize at night about getting those four girls helpless, under my power, and going to work on them with scissors and the electric hair clippers my mom used to use on me when I was younger.
Of the four, there was one blond (Wendi), one redhead (Julie) and two brunettes – one had light brown hair (Debi) and the other very dark-haired (Nancy). They took great care of their hair, I never saw them without it being clean, shiny and neatly styled. I took delight in noticing all the different ways they could arrange their hair – hanging loose, up with barrettes or in ponytails with scrunchies. Once for a dance they put each other’s up in a very sophisticated twist. That night, I fantasized tying each one to a chair and cruelly jerking out the pins holding their hair in place until it tumbled down into my hands only to be severed off at the roots. I still shiver, thinking about that!
Wendi and Nancy’s were about the same length – six inches below the shoulder. Debi’s was the longest, ending in a neatly trimmed straight line at her waist. Julie’s thick red hair hung to the middle of her back at the beginning of the year. Two weeks ago she cut it! I almost fainted when I saw her at school the next day – it just barely touched her shoulders after being curled. I was weak-kneed at the thought of somebody cutting that hair and angry that it wasn’t me.
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These four were inseparable friends (that made it easier for me to watch them). I noticed a funny thing though, about a month ago. There was somebody else following them around and watching them. I tried not to be obvious about my interest, I didn’t want them getting mad and ruining my fun. This other guy wasn’t so subtle. He followed close behind and would try to talk to them, even though they told him to get lost. He and a couple of his friends hassled them and teased them, asking for a date, and making very politically incorrect and insensitive comments. The more the girls rejected him, the bolder he got. Finally they complained to the cheerleader’s faculty advisor, Ms. Berger.
Ms. Berger was very pretty, about 27 or 28, with a great body and nice hair. She had starred in some of my haircutting fantasies also. I had a class with her last year, her hair was longer then, a shoulder length bob that looked great on her. It flew outward in an arc as she turned her head quickly from the class to the blackboard and back again. This year her hair was much shorter – about 4 or 5 inches long overall but she had a perm and curled it so there was a cloud of soft-looking ash-blond waves all over her head.
Ms. Berger had the jerk and his friends called into the office and with the assistant principal spoke to them, warning them about their behavior. I found out later that he was defiant and mouthy in the office. Ms. Berger threatened to give him a paddling with his pants down – like that would ever happen! He’d probably sue the school for a million bucks. He did back off for a while, but I noticed that he didn’t quit, he just stayed farther back, watching from a distance.
We had a basketball game in a nearby town. I followed the cheerleaders in my car. I noticed that my four favorites were with Ms. Berger in her car. The trip over was uneventful but I saw the jerk at the game with his friends looking smug – like they had something planned. They left the game a little early and I followed them out to the parking lot. I watched them get into a dark windowless, tradesman’s van. I then waited for the cheerleaders to come out so I could follow them home. I don’t know why I do this, it’s hopeless for me. I’ll never have the courage to get close to them, much less fulfil any of my fantasies, but it felt good to be close to them.
When they came out of the school they found that one of the tires on Ms. Berger’s car was flat. They called an auto service to come change it and by the time that was done the rest of the team and cheerleaders had gone on ahead. Just as they started for home I noticed the dark van pull out ahead of them. About half-way home, on a deserted stretch of road I saw the van swerve sideways and end up across the road, blocking it. Ms. Berger’s car came to a stop. I killed my headlights and pulled to the side of the road.
It all happened quickly – the jerks got out of their van and rushed Ms. Berger’s car. It looked to me like they were waving guns, opening the car doors and pulling the girls out onto the road. They tied their hands behind their backs and herded them into the van. One of the guys drove Ms. Berger’s car and followed the van. I followed behind them at a distance, without my lights on. They turned off onto a dirt road that headed back into some thick woods. I drove past the dirt road and found a place to leave my car. On a hunch I grabbed a satchel that I had prepared (wishful thinking) and put in the trunk of my car. It contained all the haircutting tools I dreamed of using someday.
I ran down the dirt road in the direction the van had gone. It must have been a half a mile before I came to a clearing and saw the van and car parked in front of a cabin. I tiptoed up to the cabin and peeked in the window. What I saw shocked me! The four cheerleaders were tied up, hands and feet and sitting in chairs along the wall. Ms. Berger was standing in the middle of the room. There were three boys, wearing workers coveralls and black ski masks. One of them was holding Ms. Berger’s arms behind her back and the leader jerk was unbuttoning her blouse. Ms. Berger was crying and saying, “Please don’t hurt me. Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” The boy finished with the blouse buttons and reached inside to tear off her flimsy, lacy bra. With that removed her began pawing and kneading her tender flesh. It hurt, she screamed in pain, “Ow, please stop. OUCH, that hurts. Please, don’t hurt me. Please!” Her cries seemed to excite him more.
Finally he tired of that and reaching down he lifted up her short skirt and began running his hand over her crotch. Ms. Berger was shivering from fear and then all of a sudden I saw a dark spot appear on the front of her panties. Shortly after that I saw streams of liquid running down her legs and a puddle forming on the floor. The jerks laughed when they saw that she had wet herself. The leader got right in her face and shouted, “YOU’VE BEEN A NAUGHTY GIRL, NOW I’M GOING TO HAVE TO SPANK YOU.” His two helpers took a low-backed chair and bent her over the back and held her in place. The leader flipped up the hem of her damp skirt and pulled down her soggy panties. He produced a thick leather belt from somewhere and proceeded to give Ms. Berger a whipping. She jumped and wiggled and kicked and screamed and hollered, but he kept right at it. Finally she just collapsed, giving in to the humiliation of being spanked on the bare bottom in front of her students.
When he was done they made her kneel on the floor in front of them and told her to say, “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl. Thank you for punishing me – I deserved it.” She wouldn’t say it and he snapped the belt in front of her face, “Do I have to whip you again?”
Finally she spit the words out, “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl….” The boy with the belt unzipped his coveralls and made her reach in and pull out his male organ. He told her to put it in her mouth. She shuddered in disgust but eyeing the belt she opened her lips and brought her head toward the swollen, pulsing tip. She had no sooner touched it with her warm lips when he exploded all over her face and hands. She screamed and fell back while he stood there with wobbly legs saying, “Oh, man, that was great!” The other boys said, “It’s our turn now!” He said, “Shut up! You’ll get your turn.” He motioned at the four tied up cheerleaders – “you’ll get lots of it, but first we have to take care of her car.” They put Ms. Berger in the chair and tied her up.
I snuck over and took a quick peek at the van. The back door was open and a couple of coveralls and ski masks were lying there. I quickly grabbed one of each and hid behind some bushes. The three boys came out, quietly arguing over who would go and who would stay. The upshot of it was that they didn’t trust each other so no one would stay they would all go. They mentioned where they were taking her car and I knew they would be gone at least a couple of hours. They got into the two vehicles and drove away. There I was, with coveralls and a ski mask plus my satchel with the means to fulfil my dreams.
When I walked into the cabin they started crying again, “Don’t hurt us. Please don’t hurt us. Just let us go. We don’t know who you are so we can’t tell anyone.”
“Shut up!” I growled at them in my best imitation of the boys who had just left. I walked up behind Ms. Berger and couldn’t resist lightly running my fingertips over her exposed chest. She shivered at my touch. She was tied to the chair and helpless, just like I had pictured in my dreams. I wasn’t particularly into spanking, but seeing one of my teachers (especially a pretty one like her and an authority figure) get spanked was a turn-on.
The jerks had brought all the girls’ purses in and set them on the table. I walked over to the table and proceeded to dump out the contents of the purses one by one. Mostly it was makeup and junk, but each one had a brush or a comb and a wallet. I went through the wallets and was surprised to find how much money these girls carried. They came from well-off families and were accustomed to having money and things. All totaled the cheerleaders had over five hundred dollars with them. Ms. Berger must have just cashed her paycheck that day. She was carrying more than eight hundred dollars. I pocketed the money, knowing that the three jerks would get blamed for it.
Then I took Ms. Berger’s brush and stood behind her slowly and gently running it through her ash-blond curls. I kept an eye on my watch, knowing that in an hour and a half I’d better be on my way. Her hair wasn’t very long, but it was so soft and felt so good to the touch. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I liked your hair when it was longer. You went and got it cut, now I’m going to finish the job.” She didn’t seem to understand what I was saying. Partly because she was in shock from her earlier treatment, but also she could not envision what I had in mind.
I took my scissors from the satchel, held them behind my back, and grabbed a shock of her blond curls. I had a hold of the curls right at her forehead. I brought the scissors from behind my back and quickly severed off a hunk of her hair. I used the tuft of hair to tickle her cheeks and then her breasts and finally dropped it on her wet skirt. She screamed again when she realized what I was doing. I snipped off a couple more hunks and then realized it would take too long to finish it this way. I pulled out the electric clippers, plugged them into a wall socket and flicked the switch. They came on with a snap and a buzz. Holding them where she could see them, I slowly moved it toward her forehead. She tried to move her head out of the way, but I grabbed a hunk of hair and pulled it tight to hold her head in place. The clippers bit into her hairline and mowed a path through. The watching girls quit shrieking and observed in horrified silence as I turned Ms. Berger into an army recruit. The blond curls dropped steadily away, building up a pile in her lap and on the floor at her feet. She quit resisting and bowed to the inevitable. When I was done I ran my hand over her stubble thinking that I had done a pretty neat job for my first attempt. I glanced at my watch and saw that I only had an hour left. I pulled out a can of shaving cream and lathered up her head then scraped the lather off with a safety razor. It took longer than I thought and when I was done (although her head was now a shiny white) I only had thirty-five minutes left.
I took a paper sack, stuffed as much of her severed blond curls as I could into it and put it into my satchel. Then I headed for the cheerleaders. Their eyes grew wide and they shrank from me as I walked closer. I walked around behind them, touching their hair, run my fingers through it, tugging slightly and lifting up the soft, shiny lengths to inhale the scent of their perfume. I rubbed the hair against my cheek and then moved on to the next one.
I stopped behind Julie’s chair and buried my hands in her thick, red mane. I said to her, “You butchered your hair a couple of weeks ago. You shouldn’t have done that!” Saying no more, I pushed her head forward towards her chest and then lifted up the back and placing the clippers at the nape of her neck buzzed upward. She shrieked in her helplessness – then, her futile anger vented, she slumped in submission. I worked fast, checking my watch every few minutes. In ten minutes she was shorn – not a very neat job, some small tufts were left, but essentially her hair was gone. Working fast I stuffed her hair into another paper sack and then went to Debi.
When I put my hands to Debi’s head she burst into tears. “Please don’t shave my head,” she cried. “Please don’t do that to me.” I had a ponytail holder from her purse and gathering her waist-length light brown hair together I put the scrunchy in low, at the base of her neck. Then, lifting the thick mane of hair up, away from her head I used the scissors to hack off the ponytail. I wasn’t trying for neatness, only speed. Finally the severed mass came loose in my hand. Her hair was a very unattractive butchered mess, uneven lengths, some very short, some a couple of inches long. For good measure, I took the clippers and buzzed her nape, halfway up the back of her head and then made one pass around her ears, leaving a two-inch wide “white-wall” stripe on each side.
Wendi and Nancy were left. I asked them which one wanted to be next but they remained silent and eyed me carefully. I teased them for a moment, touching first Wendi’s hair and then Nancy’s. Each time I touched them they tensed up in fear. I finally settled behind Wendi’s blond head. Her hair was loose across her shoulders. I started with the clippers at her forehead and buzzed off all the hair on the top of her head. It left her with a huge bald spot and long hair hanging all around her head. Then, taking the scissors I cut the remaining long hair into a chin-length bob. I wasn’t sure what her hairdresser would do with this, but it sure looked funny – a cheerleader with male-pattern baldness and pretty blond hair all around her ears.
With only a few minutes left, I moved behind Nancy and ran my fingers through her lovely dark brown hair. She was probably the prettiest of the bunch, which might be why I saved her for last. She looked at me tearfully and said, “Please be nice.” She was a nice girl, not quite as stuck up and snotty as the other three. Maybe that’s why I had a little pity on her. I took the clippers and turning them over so the teeth were pointed at her head, I worked around her head shearing her hair on a line just above her ears. When that was done, the start of a chili-bowl bob, I then clippered all the hair below that line. I shaved her nape and up the back of her head to the new hair line. That left her with a mop of dark hair still fastened to the top of her head. I used the lather and razor blade to shave all the area I had just clippered and around her ears. Then I took the hair on top of her head, from ear to ear and combed it forward over her face. These would be her bangs. Using the scissors I snipped the bangs off very short – looking like a little girl who was experimenting on herself with scissors. They were choppy and uneven – and short! Only a quarter of an inch of bangs lay on her forehead.
I looked at my watch – my time was all gone! I hastily put Wendi and Nancy’s hair in two more paper sacks, stuffed everything in my satchel and ran out the door. I was no sooner behind the bushes when I heard the van coming back. “Whew, that was close,” I thought to myself. I ran through the woods toward my car, not wanting to be around when those jerks saw what I had done to their five pretty captives. I drove to the nearest pay phone and called the police leaving an anonymous tip about the abduction.
When school started up after the weekend there were a bunch of rumors about what had happened over the weekend. The three jerks were arrested, caught in the act of molesting their captives. They confessed to everything but couldn’t explain how the girls had lost their hair. Ms. Berger was wearing a wig, along with Julie and Wendi. Sure enough, before the day was out, some mischevious wags (rumor has it they were each paid fifty bucks) came up behind the girls in the hallway, grabbed their wigs and ran off. They were mortified but no more than Ms. Berger when her wig was lifted off her head (that cost me a hundred bucks!).
Debi and Nancy came to school pretty much the way I’d left them. I think they had gone to a hairdresser to have it touched up, but they were both pretty enough to carry off this dramatic style. They both got a lot of sympathy and compliments. I was a little concerned, but the five victims firmly maintained that the three jerks were the only ones involved and that they did everything that night including the haircuts.