| Subject: The Barber |
Author:
Stan
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Date Posted: 12:07:18 04/20/17 Thu
I live in a fairly small town in the midwest, and, sometimes, I feel like I'm the only gay person in town. The town has only one barber shop: Victor's Barber Shop on Main Street. The shop employs 3 barbers, in addition to the owner. I had once heard somewhere that many gay men were employed in the barber profession. However, all of the barbers at Victor's seemed straight as an arrow. Whenever I got my hair cut there, the barbers would be talking about their wives and kids.
One time, when I went to get a haircut, all the barbers were busy with other customers, except for the owner, Victor, who had never cut my hair before. So, rather than wait until my regular barber was free, I decided to let Victor cut my hair. Victor was in his 40s, about 20 years older than me. He looked as straight as they come. He was not slim, but he wasn't overweight either. He was just built very "solid". I asked Victor about his family, but he said he was a bachelor. Something told me that Victor had been in the military. Perhaps it was because he kept his hair cut really short at a time when most men were letting their hair grow out. Or maybe it was because of his "no-nonsense" attitude. Don't get me wrong. Victor was friendly, but just not all that "chatty". During our conversation, Victor confirmed my suspicion when he revealed that he had spent a fair amount of time in the Army, but, eventually, he decided not to make a career of it. He told me that, after he left the Army, he decided to open up his own barber shop.
After Victor had finished cutting my hair, he asked me if I wanted a shave. Although I usually shave myself, I told Victor to go ahead with the shave. I was kind of intrigued by him, and I thought the shave would give me a little more time to talk with him and learn more about him. Victor had to sharpen his straight razor first. I was facing the mirror on the wall, and, in its reflection, I saw Victor lift up and stretch out the dark brown razor strap that was attached to the side of my chair. Then he ran the straight razor back and forth across the stiff leather of the strap. I told Victor that I had always wondered what those straps were used for. Victor said "That's one use for a razor strap". And I asked Victor, "There are other uses?" And he replied, somewhat hesitantly, "Well, yes, but I thought you'd know about that". Victor was acting kind of strange. I told him to go on. Then, he continued, "Until safety razors became popular, the razor strap was a standard item in most homes. In addition to sharpening their straight razors, razor straps were also used by most fathers to discipline their sons. My own father used a razor strap on me when I had done something wrong". I told Victor that the few times my dad punished me when I was growing up, he used his belt on me, and I didn't think anything could hurt worse than that. Then Victor replied, "Take it from me. A razor strap hurts a lot worse than a belt! They don't even feel the same. When you get punished with a belt, you feel the weight of the belt striking your ass, but when you get punished with a razor strap, you don't feel any weight hitting you. You just suddenly feel this terrible burning pain." Then Victor said, "I can't believe you've missed out on one of life's memorable (if not pleasant) experiences". I told Victor I can't imagine that a belt and a razor strap would feel all that different.
Then Victor lowered his voice so no one else could hear our conversation. "If you're really curious about it, I'll be glad to demonstrate the difference for you. Obviously, I can't do it here in the shop. It would freak out all the customers, but if you come over to my house this evening, I'll be glad to give you a demonstration. I keep a razor strap at home." I took Victor up on his invitation. Somehow, during my conversation with him, I got the suspicion that he might be gay. And I thought that meeting him in private at his place might lead to something interesting.
I arrived at Victor's house about 8 pm. After he invited me in, we both sat down on the couch for a while and talked. Victor suggested to me that, since it was a hot summer evening and we weren't in "mixed company", we'd both be more comfortable if we took off our shirts. So we both removed our shirts and then continued our conversation. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized that Victor's arm was wrapped around my shoulders. I didn't even notice when he did that. I was pretty sure now that Victor was gay, and I "got hard" thinking about where this might lead.
After a while, Victor asked, "Are you ready for that demonstration I promised you?" I said "Yes." Then he said, "I have a few things I want to explain to you first. When you were punished as a kid, your dad was so much bigger and stronger than you that you couldn't escape from the punishment. So, in order to create a similar experience, I'm going to tie you down on my bed so you can't escape from the punishment I'm going to give you. Is that okay with you?" I said "Yes". Victor continued, "When your dad punished you, you had to take the entire whipping no matter how much it hurt. So I'm not going to stop your punishment either until it's completed. Is that okay with you?" And, once again, I said "Yes". Then, he continued, "Lastly, I want to emphasize that the razor strap is going to hurt like hell. So please don't blame me for the pain. Just remember, YOU were the one who wanted to have this experience." I replied, "I promise I won't blame you."
Then Victor said, "I guess you're ready for your punishment. Take off your pants and shoes and lie face-down on the bed!" Victor's stern orders brought back memories of my dad's tone of voice when he was about to punish me with his belt. Victor tied me down securely on the bed with some rope. Then he said, "First, I'm going to give you 20 lashes with my belt." Victor unbuckled his belt and removed it from his pants. Then he doubled it over and began whipping my ass with it. I started crying after only 10 lashes, but Victor continued the punishment until all 20 lashes had been given. Then, after a short respite, Victor said, "Now, I'm going to punish you with the razor strap. You're going to get 20 lashes with it too." Starting with the very first stroke of the razor strap, I yelled at the top of my lungs. I wasn't prepared for the incredible burning sensation that overwhelmed me when that strap struck my butt. By the 6th lash, I was pleading with Victor to stop, but he would have none of that. He said, "I warned you beforehand that you would have to take the full punishment." Each stroke felt like a hot frying pan had been pressed against my butt. My ass felt like it was burning in the fires of Hell! I just screamed and screamed until the whipping was finally over with. I continued crying for a little while after the last stroke.
After I stopped crying, Victor released me from the ropes. I felt so weak after the whipping that I could barely stand up on my own. Victor helped me back to the couch. He took off his pants and sat down first in the middle of the couch. I had never seen a man with such a huge erection before! Victor told me to lie face-down on the couch and put my head in his lap. As I lay down, it was pretty obvious where he wanted me to put my mouth! Victor massaged my sore butt with his right hand while I "feasted" on his manhood. Victor later confided to me that the only time he got such huge erections was when he would punish a young guy like me with his razor strap, hear his horrible screams of agony, and then sadistically watch his desperate, but futile, efforts to escape from the strap.
Just before I left Victor's house, he said, "Now I think you have a pretty good idea what life was like when I was a kid. What do you think of the razor strap now?" I thought about it for a moment and then replied, "I'm only thankful that I didn't have your dad for a father when I was growing up!" We both got a little chuckle from that remark.
I made many more visits to Victor's house after that, sometimes for sex and sometimes just because we enjoyed each other's company. I told Victor that I thought of him almost like a 2nd father, albeit one I could have sex with. Victor liked that idea of being a 2nd father to me, and he took that honorary position very seriously. Just as my real dad had used his belt to keep me on the "straight and narrow" when I was a kid, so there would be times, while I was a young adult, that Victor would find it necessary to "apply" the razor strap to correct my behavior.
For the curious, this story is pure fiction.
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