Commando Raid

Commando Raid

COMMANDO RAID – ONE by Shearingly

Every week we get a batch of new recruits for induction and basic training. My squad meets the buses and immediately divides the male and female recruits. The male recruits are marched toward the base induction center for their shots, haircuts, uniform issue and processing.

The female recruits are inspected and those who don’t meet the military standard for their hair are put back on a bus and taken downtown for a haircut. One or two of my squad and I accompany them on this trip and supervise the procedure. There has never been less than six and once there were twenty-five female recruits that needed a haircut. We have an arrangement with the owner of a hair styling shop who keeps that time frame open every week to get us in as quickly as possible.

After a few weeks I noticed that the owner had turned this operation over to one of her stylists who along with two others were always waiting for the recruits. It was a good deal for them – the business was steady and the recruits had to pay for their haircuts. I think the price they charged was a lot more than what regular customers paid. I guess they figured these recruits would never come back so what did it matter!

One of my men would stay on the bus and send the recruits in, three at a time. I would stay in the shop to make sure they ended up with a regulation haircut. I’ve got to admit this was a turn-on for me. I like to see female haircuts, especially when they are getting a haircut they don’t really want. When I inspected them at the base I would put as many in this group as I could. Even the ones who were marginal would be brought along. If they questioned it I might tell them that although their haircut was pretty much O.K. now, in the six weeks of basic training it would grow out and be too long. Since they wouldn’t have a chance to get it trimmed I told them we would take care of it now. They seemed to accept that logic.

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Anyway, I got the impression that the three hairstylists were getting as much pleasure out of these haircuts as I was. At first they stuck to the book, cutting the hair exactly as the military required and even trying to fulfill the recruit’s personal wishes. After a few weeks they figured out these women weren’t going to come back and complain – they could do whatever they wanted to do. So they began experimenting a little. They would try a new hairstyle every now and then just for practice.

The recruits would be marched in and the head stylist, Lisa, would point at a recruit and then to one of the three waiting chairs. She would invariably select the one with the prettiest (and usually the longest) hairstyle for herself. Once the recruit was in her chair she would snap the apron smooth and then arrange it around the recruit’s neck. She would ask the recruit what she wanted for her haircut, but as far as I could tell she didn’t listen at all. One pretty brunette with hair brushing her shoulders was left with a half-an-inch all around and a flat top! That recruit was crying when she marched back out to the bus. Another girl with beautiful natural curls, just touching her collar, saw all of those curls drop on the floor. She was left with less than an inch of hair everywhere on her head. She got angry and I had to convince Lisa not to charge her for that haircut. She wasn’t happy but that satisfied the recruit.

Anymore, just about all of the haircuts involved clippers and the lower back part of the recruits head would be shaved. The other two stylists, Cindy and Mary, did pretty much like Lisa. They would seat the recruits, get them comfortable and begin to comb their hair. With gentle strokes of the comb and a calm, soothing voice they would get the recruit to relax. They asked about the recruit’s preferences and then pretty soon would pick up the scissors and start snipping away. Sometimes they would start with the clippers and if the recruit tensed up they would say, “Oh I’m going to start by shaving your neck.” It ended up, of course, that the clippers kept on going up the back of their head.

I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the finished recruits and the stylists’ own hair. Lisa had lots of blond hair. She had it permed and the waves tumbled down her back ending three inches above her waist. She sometimes caught it back in a ponytail at the base of her neck, but often it was left loose. She would lean over the recruits as she cut their hair, allowing hers to dance across the recruit’s face. Then she would step away and with a toss of her head adjust her mane out of the way. She did it to increase the agony of the recruit, I’m sure.

Cindy was a brunette. Her thick smooth hair ended at her shoulder blades. Sometimes she used rollers and the ends would curl, sometimes it was straight. It was always soft and shiny and moved gracefully as she walked around the shop. Mary had strawberry-blond hair that curled in natural waves about six inches below her shoulders. She was probably the prettiest of the three. Her hair was always neat, often the sides were pulled back with barrettes or pulled together at the top and then worked into a small braid down the middle.

As the finished recruits were marched back to the bus and the stylists were waiting for the next batch the three would joke about what they had just done. Some days they seemed to compete for who could do the most outrageous haircut and get paid for it! It was while I was listening to them brag like that, I had my idea.

By looking around the shop (at magazine labels and other things) I learned the full names of these three stylists and their addresses. That night as I was going to sleep I formulated my plan. These three stylists needed to learn a lesson in compassion. Two nights later I had everything in place. I had explained the plan to two female soldiers who had been through this routine themselves, gone through basic training and were now stationed on the base. They agreed it was past due.


We three took the afternoon off and drove around checking out where these stylists lived and the routes they would most likely take to get home. It was fairly easy. Lisa lived in a small home by herself. From her talking at the shop I knew she was recently divorced and wasn’t seeing anyone at the time. She complained about being home by herself every evening. Cindy and Mary rented a house together at the edge of town. They each had a boyfriend, but they both worked a night shift so the girls only saw them on weekends.

We decided to start with Lisa. One of my soldiers would station herself at Lisa’s house to make sure no one was there. We would follow Lisa home from work and the lesson would begin.

It all worked out just as we planned. The shop stayed open until eight o’clock that night so it was dark when Lisa came out and got in her car. She stopped at the grocery store but was only in there five minutes picking up some items for her supper. She went straight home from there. We parked the car two blocks away and walked over on foot. By the time we got to the house she had parked her car and gone in. We assembled in the back yard behind some trees and finished our preparations. After putting on the camoflage paint and hats our own mothers wouldn’t have recognized us. Earlier the soldier guarding the house had disconnected the phone line. There was no way Lisa could call out for help. I picked the lock on the back door and when it was ready sent one of my accomplices to the front door to ring the doorbell. We heard Lisa go to the front door and open it up. She looked around and said, “Who’s there?”

By the time she had walked back into the kitchen we were in position. She came through the doorway but never saw us. I grabbed her from behind and immobolized her arms. One of the others grabbed her flailing legs and the third had a strip of duct tape in her hand which she fastened over Lisa’s mouth. It took less than three seconds – just like we’d practised. This really was good training for a commando raid.

Once her feet were tied together I set her down so we could tie her hands behind her. We placed her in a kitchen chair and put a strap around her chest so she couldn’t get up. Once we were done we grouped ourselves in front of her. She stared at us with fear and a big question mark in her eyes.

“Lisa,” I said (she looked shocked that I knew her name), “we have come to give you a lesson in compassion. Every week you give poor frightened female recruits a haircut more severe than they need or ask for. You do it on purpose because you think you can get away with it. But you also enjoy it. In fact, you enjoy it too much. We think that if you get a taste of what it’s like you might not enjoy it so much. We have come to give you a haircut!”

Lisa started shaking her head, no. She looked even more frightened now. She tried to talk but the duct tape muffled her words. It was impossible to understand what she was saying. One of my helpers went out to the back porch and brought in a gear bag. I unzipped it and started laying out on the table the equipment we would use. I took out a pair of very large scissors and a small pair. That was followed by two combs. I worked the scissors back and forth in the air around her face. She recoiled from them.

Reaching back in the bag I pulled out electric clippers and several length guides for it. Her eyes got even wider when she saw that. Then I brought out an old-fashioned shaving mug and shaving brush. Then a couple of disposable razors. When she saw those the fear got the best of her and we heard the sound of water trickling. Looking closely there was a large damp spot in her lap and moisture was trickling off the chair onto the floor.

I had one of my helpers use the scissors to cut off her short skirt and wet panties. We used some towels from the bathroom to wipe her dry and then to dry off the chair and the floor. We fastened another, dry, towel on her bottom like a diaper. The other helper took a comb and standing behind Lisa unfastened her ponytail holder and began combing out her long locks. It took quite a while – the curls had gotten tangled in her struggle, but with persistence it was finally combed out.

“Now Lisa,” I began, “how would you like your hair cut. Would you like it really short, like a boy?” She shook her head, no. “Maybe you’d like a nice chin-length bob?” She shook her head, no, again. “Oh, so you’d like it to end at your shoulders?” Once again, no. “Well,” I continued, “those were your three choices and you didn’t like any of them, so now it’s my choice.”

I was so excited I could hardly breathe. I picked up the electric clippers, plugged them into the wall and said, “I’m going to see what I can do with these. I’ve never used them before, but I’ve watched you enough, I’m sure I can do it.” With that I grabbed her by the chin, tilted her face upward and starting at the middle of her forehead mowed a path right down the center of her head. Oh, that felt so fine! Picking up the severed strands I spent a moment tickling her face with them. “You like to do this to your victims. How does it feel on you?” I asked.

I finished buzzing off the top of her head, cutting it as close as I could. My helpers gathered up the strands. We were going to send them to a place that makes wigs. I thought it might come in handy some day – I could have someone wear it into the shop if Lisa ever forgot this lesson. My helpers were anxious to get in on the action so I turned them loose and they finished the job. They scissored off great lengths of hair making sure it fell across her arms and lap so she could see it all. They then worked up a lather and using the shaving brush spread cream all over her head. The brand new disposables did a great job. In no time her head was shiny white. I got an egg out of her refrigerator and held it up where she could see it. “Lisa, you don’t really need a mirror, just look at this and you’ll know what you look like.”

I then had a good talk with her. I knew she had figured out who I was and she hated me for what I did. “Lisa, I had to teach you this lesson so you would have some compassion on the recruits we bring to you. You have a good thing going that brings you a lot of money. Don’t ruin it.” I could tell she understood and was resigned to it all. I didn’t think she’d cause any trouble.

“Oh, Lisa,” I said. “You haven’t paid us for your haircut yet.” I retrieved her purse from the front room where she’d set in on her arrival home. I fished out her wallet and looked inside. There must have been over five hundred dollars in there! “We cut off an awful lot of hair. That was about a one hundred dollar haircut. Doesn’t that sound right Lisa?” She shook her head, no. “Oh, well, then it must have been worth one hundred and fifty, right?” She decided that every time she said no the price would go up so she nodded her head, yes. I took out the hundred and fifty counting it right in front of her so she wouldn’t accuse me of stealing.

We went through the house turning off lights and wiping out any sign of our presence. Just before we left we carried Lisa, chair and all, into her unlit bedroom and placed her in front of her dressing room mirror. We were ready to walk out the door when I went back and flicked on her bedroom light. It was her first view of her new makeover and she didn’t look very happy. We left her tied up and helpless, staring at herself in the mirror, locked the door behind us and went on to our next stop.


The adrenaline was pumping as we headed over to Cindy and Mary’s house. As we finished up with Lisa I had sent one of my accomplices over to check out Cindy and Mary’s. She met us halfway down the block and said, “It looks good. Their cars are the only ones in the drive. I disconnected their phone so they won’t be calling anyone.” We walked around the house. The house was surrounded by trees so they weren’t too careful with drapes and blinds. Mary was soaking in the tub with her strawberry blond hair put up in back so it wouldn’t get wet. Little strands had come loose and were curling around her face. She looked so sweet and innocent.

We decided on a straight on approach this time. One of the girls with me rang the doorbell when Cindy came opened the door we pushed our way in and grabbed her. She started to scream but my hand covered her mouth. She stopped struggling when she realized it would do no good. We quickly had her trussed up and a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Mary was wearing headphones and listening to music so she heard nothing at all. Her eyes went wide with shock when my two helpers pushed open the door of the bathroom and burst in. They grabbed her arms and lifted her out of the tub, dripping wet. They dried her off with a couple of towels and then put a terrycloth bathrobe around her.

They brought her out to the kitchen and tied her into a chair just like we had done with Cindy. The tape seemed unnecessary so it came off of Cindy’s mouth. We warned them that any screaming and the tape would go back on.

I explained to them, like I had to Lisa, that we had come to teach them a lesson on compassion. I explained about how the female recruits felt who had come through their shop and been given severe haircuts against their wishes. As I talked the light of comprehension dawned in their eyes. It turned to a look of apprehension when they saw where I was headed with this topic.

Once again I dramatically took out and displayed the contents of my haircutting bag. The scissors and clippers and fresh razors were spread out for them to see. They knew only too well what those tools were designed to do. Tears started falling down Mary’s face. Her whimpering sobs were soon joined by Cindy’s.

“Chin up, girls,” I said. “Be brave about this. The recruits you have shorn were in no position to argue against you or prevent what you did to them. This will help you be more understanding of their feelings when they sit in your chairs.”

My two helpers stood behind our victims and began combing their hair. Cindy’s as always was smooth, soft and shiny it took little or no effort to comb it. It was a joy to handle, I’m sure. At least I enjoyed watching the brunette get combed with that look of apprehension that was just short of stark terror on her face. Mary’s, being naturally wavy was a little harder to comb. It looked nice, though, as the comb placed the strands in a neat arrangement.

“Girls,” I said to my accomplices, “which of these two is prettier?” They thought about it for a moment and then at the same time they both pointed to Mary. I nodded my head, she was my choice also. “All right, which of these two seems to have the most compassion on the recruits they see each week?” They immediately pointed to Mary who seemed to be sweeter and nicer than Cindy or Lisa. Once again I nodded my head in agreement.

“This is the way it’s going to be,” I said addressing the two victims. “One of you is going to be shaved completely bald and the other one is going to get a proper military haircut. I have decided that Cindy will be the egghead and Mary will serve as your example in the weeks to come. When I bring in a batch of recruits, if you have any doubt as to what the haircut should be, just look at Mary’s head and you will know what to do.

Having said that I let my accomplices give Mary a proper military haircut – just the right length in back, on the sides and at the top. Not too short and not too long. When they were done with her she looked ready to step into a uniform. Her haircut would pass inspection in any army I’d ever served with.

I then stood in front of Cindy, “Your turn now.”

She said, “Oh, no, please! I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be good from now on, I promise. I will do exactly as the military requires and try to give the recruits what they ask for. Please don’t shave my head. I’ll be so embarrassed. I’ll just die!”

Her pleading made this even more exciting. I stood beside her and fingered her long smooth, shiny locks. They felt so soft and inviting – the kind of hair a man can bury his fingers in and get lost. I fondled her hair for so long she began to relax, thinking she’d changed my mind.

Once I sensed the change in her I brought the clippers from behind my back where I’d been holding them and flicked the on switch. With the snap and hum she jumped and tensed up. I pushed her head forward and starting at the nape of her neck ran a swath up the center of her head from nape to forehead. I dropped the severed locks into her lap and then held up a mirror for her to see the result. She screamed and sobbed. I let her settle down for a moment then as she sobbed quietly submitting to the inevitable, I made swath after swath, widening the path each time. Her lovely brown hair was collecting in her lap and at her feet. When I was done buzzing her head all over my accomplices lathered her up and shaved her to the bone. A startling contrast, indeed.

I made them pay for their haircuts also. Mary only had to pay seventy-five dollars because she got less cut off, but Cindy had to pay one hundred and twenty-five. I gave each of my helpers a hundred dollars and I kept a hundred and fifty. Not bad for a night’s work in giving three hairstylists a lesson in compassion. We loosened their ropes and suggested that when they got loose they drive over to Lisa’s house and make sure she got untied.

I convinced them that the business they received from their weekly recruits was too important for them to make a stink about their haircuts. We went home satisfied that the next time we showed up with recruits their attitudes would be totally different.


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