Hair Crisis

Hair Crisis by Jack Milton

Note: This fantasy describes a dangerous practice. Do not try it.

Melissa is the most beautiful woman I know. It’s not so much her face — which is more handsome and square-jawed than classically pretty — but her overall athletic good looks which makes her so attractive. She’s tall and slim, but well muscled. You could mistake her for an Olympic swimmer. I’ve been hot for Melissa, since the first time I laid eyes on her. A lot of my time was spent dreaming of ways to lay my hands on her. And I did get the chance finally but it was nothing like I’d imagined. There wasn’t any romance involved really. It was pure sex, pure need, and Melissa had some unusual needs. So did I as it turned out.

I finally connected with Melissa, and it never would have happened the way it did if not for a really bad hair day. Actually it was more of a hair crisis day for Melissa. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend, a wealthy jerk named Howard. Howard, she discovered, was screwing a nursing student — a busty redhead with an obnoxious giggle. His attitude was “Hey, so what? It was nothing. Just a diversion.” Apparently. Howard needed a lot of diversion, because he took her on a vacation to Cozumel. Melissa found out about it second-hand from a girlfriend while they were away.

Melissa was so distraught and insecure about her looks that she decided to give herself a home makeover. This was totally unnecessary, since she was so good looking. But Melissa felt ugly. She opted for the platinum blonde look. Her hair was long and naturally dirty-blonde. So she reached for the bleach and a bottle of red wine. The wine worked, but the bleach did not. She got drunk and her hair came through the ordeal looking like a mass of dried straw. Definitely not the look she had hoped for. In tears, she fled her apartment and headed for the Campus Pub.

That’s where I found her, red-eyed and morose, nursing a glass of wine — the old red devil — in a darkened corner booth where she sat with a silk scarf tied around her head like a babushka. I’d always thought of her as the athletic type and now she looked like some Russian peasant, a former Olympian fallen from grace.

I approached cautiously with two glasses of wine in hand and sat down across from her in the booth. I slid one glass over in front of her and said “You look like you could use another.”

“You’re damn right,” she replied.

“Why the scarf?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea. Shards of straw hair were sticking out from the side of the scarf.

For the first time Melissa looked at me. She’d been crying for a long time and she looked a bit puffy around the eyes. She pulled the babushka back to reveal her self-inflicted coiffure deformity. It looked horrible, like the scarecrow in Wizard of Oz. I winced. It was an automatic response, and for a moment I knew for certain that I’d blown it with her. What woman would be attracted to a man who thought she looked ugly? But she was not put off.

“Wouldn’t you cover your head if you looked like this?” she said.

“I’d probably sue the hairdresser who did it,” I told her. “But it’s hair. It will grow out. Maybe you should get it cut short.

“Yeah, real short,” she replied with a sarcastic edge. She sipped her fresh glass of wine. “I wish I could sue someone, but it wouldn’t be any hairdresser. You see, I did this to myself.” Then she sighed and I could see a change come over her. She was finished mourning her stupidity. She dabbed at her moist, red, eyes and smiled at me. “Thanks for the wine.” She reached over and held my hand. “You’re right,” she said. “I think I will cut it short. I think I’ll shave every damn bit of it off.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I am sure.” She took another gulp of wine,. “Where can I get some shears?” The look on her face was dead serious. She meant it.

I figured why not. Her hair wasn’t going to look any better short because it was damaged all the way to her scalp. So I made her an offer which turned out to have far greater ramifications than I expected.

“Well, I do have one of those old barber’s clippers,” I offered. “You know, the electric ones with a set of plastic comb attachments.”

“Great. That’s just what I need. Do you want to assist me in the operation?”

I would have done anything she asked. I just wanted to be closer to her. “Sure,” I said. “The shears are in my apartment.”

“Let’s go,” she said, draining her glass. She was immediately up and out of the booth and leading me outside by the hand.

Heading back to my apartment in my car, Melissa described the events leading up to her self-destructive impulse and I was stunned. “I can’t believe your boyfriend would even think of cheating on you. He’s got to be a fool.” I was right. He was. As it turned out, he had discarded the most sexually adventurous woman I’ve ever met.

When we entered my apartment, Melissa immediately noticed the chin-up bar I’d set up in the bedroom. My apartment was in an old building with ten-foot high ceilings and I’d set the bar between two upright posts that happened to have a series of pegs in them. The bar itself was up high enough to have to jump up to reach it. And since the posts were about five feet apart, I sometimes hung a Yucatan hammock — the kind made entirely of nylon string — on them. She appraised the bar, but said nothing. I didn’t know what she was thinking.

In my bathroom, Melissa tossed the babushka aside and grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. “God, I’m an ugly bitch,” she said frowning.

“Oh no,” I corrected her. “You’re beautiful. It’s just your hair that’s been assaulted.” That was the jackpot response. I’d carefully refrained from complimenting her looks, knowing for sure that If I’d done so at the Pub she would have viewed it as a cheap come-on, and a lie at that… And she would have been wrong.

Melissa hugged me and I hugged her back, tightly. Then we kissed. She was a great kisser with a wide mouth and full, sensuous lips. Her tongue found it’s way into my mouth and I began to get hard. She didn’t seem to mind, because she pressed herself against my growing erection. I thought that we would get it on right then and there, but she wasn’t quite ready yet.

“Bring on the shears,” she commanded. “It’s time for my new look.”

“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “You have been drinking.”

“I’m positive. And it’s not because of the wine.”

Who was I to deny her? The barber’s shears were stored in an old wicker basket that held the few remaining personal possessions left by my late father. He’d been a barber for a while, back when I was a kid. The shears hadn’t been used for years, but they still worked. I plugged the cord in and flipped the switch. The shears came to life, buzzing evenly like a turbocharged bumble-bee. There were three comb attachments, ranging from a depth of 3/4 inch down to 1/4 inch. I held out the box and Melissa selected the shortest of the combs.

“Let’s go for the buzz cut,” she said. “If any one asks, I’ll say I enlisted in the marines.” She clipped the short comb onto the shears and pressed them into my hand. “I want you to do the honors,” she said evenly.

“OK. But you’d better take off your shirt. Hair in your collar can be itchy as hell.”

“Right,” she agreed. And she unbuttoned her blouse and discarded it. Beneath the blouse she wore a skimpy tank-top that came down no further than the bottom of her ribs and it showed off her breasts beautifully. Melissa’s breasts were small but perfectly shaped and her generous nipples stood erect under the cotton like a pair of little thumbs. So we both had erections there in my bathroom.

She was indeed beautiful. I drank her in like water for parched eyes. She had beautiful collarbones — a too little appreciated part of the female anatomy — and they stood out in relief against her pale skin. And her neck was long and graceful, stretching what looked like a foot from the lovely hollowed base of her throat to her strong jawline. I immediately noticed she had a pinkish line, like a welt, circling her delicate neck, but I said nothing.

Melissa gathered up her hair in a bunch from the back and tilted her head forward. “Do it,” she said.

I clipped the comb onto the shears and flipped the switch again. The shears hummed, all business, as I guided the comb up from the nape of her neck to make a two-inch wide swath halfway up the back of her scalp. Well, that was it. There was no stopping now. I continued working the shears until she cast off a huge handful of dead looking hair.

“I don’t want to look until you’re finished,” she said.

It only took a minute, but by then my bathroom looked like a scene from an old barber shop — piles of hair all over the black and white tiles. Finally, I snapped off the shears and sat them down on the edge of the sink. Melissa’s head was perfectly rounded with no unsightly lumps or bumps. Not bald, exactly, but damn close to it. With or without her hair, she was indeed a beauty. She also looked a bit punk now in her tight little tank-top. I liked it. It looked totally naked and slightly nasty. Nevertheless, I had an instinctive feeling that she wasn’t going to like what she saw, no matter what it looked like. And I was afraid that she would forever hold me responsible for making her look bad, which meant no more close quarters contact. Momentarily I wished I hadn’t offered to cut her hair off, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

“It’s done. You can look now,” I told her, holding my breath for her reaction.

Melissa looked up and stared into the mirror. The woman she saw was a completely different person than she had seen that morning in her own bathroom. That woman had long silky hair. This one looked more like a convict. She didn’t frown though. She was fascinated. She ran her hand over her head then turned her head to each side in appraisal. Then she turned her shoulders from side to side, posing the way women do when they are checking out their makeup or outfit — which I’ve always found arousing. Still not saying anything, she tilted her head back slightly brazenly offering her tantalizing neck for display, like a fashion model posing for a camera. My erection was throbbing.

“What do you think?” she said.

I was so aroused that I fumbled for a reply. “It’s… I like it,” I finally blurted out.

“So do I,” she said.

“It’s very sexy,” I ventured.

“It makes my neck look so long.” Melissa brought her fingertips gently to her throat, tracing the pink welt encircling her neck.

“How did you get that mark?” I asked. “Did your boyfriend make that?”

“No,” she said. “I did it to myself.”

I didn’t understand, and she could see my confusion.

“You see, I like to masturbate. And when I do, I like to tie a length of rawhide around my neck. It makes me come so hard. It’s just my little kink. I like to be choked when I’m having sex.”

I thought my zipper would bust apart any second, my cock was so hard.

“Would you like to touch me there? Touch my neck?”

I didn’t say anything. I just stepped behind her and placed my hands around her throat. Reflexively she emitted a deep, husky breath, which I could feel beneath my fingers. So I tightened my grip ever so slightly. Melissa closed her eyes, leaned her head back and felt behind her for my hard cock. She found it and rubbed slowly, fondling me through the fabric of my jeans.

“You wouldn’t happen to have your favorite piece of rawhide with you?” I asked.

“No,” she said huskily. “But anything will do. Have you got a piece of rope, or a necktie?”

“Yeah, I do.” I was trembling. I’d never had to courage to put something tight around a woman’s neck before, but I’d always wanted to.

“Get it!” she commanded.

I dashed out of the bathroom and into my closet where there were both neckties and several lengths of thick nylon rope that I used to hang up my Yucatan hammock. When I returned, Melissa had slipped out of her tank-top and her breasts were standing out proudly, her nipples hard and full. I returned to my position directly behind her and cupped both breasts in my hands. She inhaled deeply and leaned back against me to rub her pretty ass against my hard cock. I felt like I could come any second, but I held off.

“Do you want the tie or the rope around your neck?”

“Let’s do the tie first,” she said.

Without hesitation, I looped the tie around her pretty neck and pulled it snug. Melissa shuddered, staring wide-eyed at herself in the mirror. Fumbling behind her with both hands she managed to unzip my jeans and take my erection in her hand. She squeezed it firmly, which brought a groan to my lips.

“Tighter,” she said.

Slowly, I pulled the tie tighter. “Tight enough?”

“Uh uh. Tighter.” She squeezed my cock harder, as if to indicate how tight she wanted it around her neck. My cock was throbbing madly in her grasp.

I complied and pulled the tie tighter — tight enough to choke. Melissa opened her mouth and tried to inhale with her throat wide open. Her breath went in with a thick rasp, and it wasn’t much of a breath. So I pulled tighter still, tight enough to completely cut off all air, and Melissa stared bug eyed and open mouthed into the mirror. I didn’t know how long she could stand being choked before she passed out, but she wasn’t resisting. Instead she was jerking me off hard, sliding her tight hand up and down my cock. I stared at her reflection in the mirror, the tie so tight around her long neck and the fluttering pulse there in the deep hollow between her collarbones, and at her wide open mouth. I could almost look down her throat to where the necktie squeezed so tightly.

“I want you to kneel in front of me and fill your mouth with cock now.” It wasn’t a request but a demand. I felt that I had complete control over her and she knew it, and accepted it.

She was ready to comply. I released the tension around her neck and allowed her to turn around. Obediently, she knelt before me and held her mouth open for me. Placing one hand behind her head, I slowly placed my cockhead on her offered tongue and pressed her head forward. Melissa’s mouth was wonderfully hot and wet and welcoming. She didn’t suck on the cock that filled her mouth until she felt it press into her open throat. She didn’t gag at all. Instead she pressed the swollen bar farther in.

Since the tie was still wrapped around her neck, I jerked it tight and her whole body shuddered. Melissa began to suck my cock like a starving animal who’s only source of food is fresh, hot semen… I released the pressure around her neck, then I jerked it tight again. Melissa’s naked head moved up and down jamming my cock in and out. swallowing as deeply as it would go into her needy throat. So I began loosening and jerking tight in a regular rhythm. All the while, she kept pistoning my cock down her open throat, never letting it leave her mouth to breathe. She didn’t need to. She had no trouble taking in air around a mouthful of hard cock in the few seconds between the repeated chokings I was dealing out.

Normally, it takes a long time for me to come when my cock is being sucked, but Melissa was the neediest cocksucker I’d ever met and I had to hold off as hard as I could to prevent coming too quickly. I managed to hold off for three wonderful minutes until I couldn’t control it. Then I started to come. Melissa pulled back slightly until my cockhead was no longer penetrating her throat, and she held it tightly with her lips and swirling tongue while it pulsed and squirted, filling her mouth with an enormous volume of semen. She held my cock in her mouth for another minute while I jerked and bucked. Finally she let me slip from between her lips. I wondered if her boyfriend Harold was crazy. If she sucked his cock like she did to me, he’d have to be insane to look elsewhere for sex.

Melissa purred as she held the come in her mouth, and after a few seconds she swallowed deeply.

My cock had softened a bit but not completely. This meant that after a few minutes I could lay down on top of her, naked on my bed, and pump her cunt — which I fully intended to do. But Melissa wasn’t ready to lay down yet.

“Let’s try this now,” she said, picking up the rope and deftly tying the end into a hangman’s noose. She obviously had experience tying this knot and I could imagine her placing a noose around her own neck and pulling it tight while she masturbated herself in front of a mirror at home. I bet she made herself come hard and long every time.

“OK,” I said. “But first I want you to turn around.” I placed her wrists together behind her back and wrapped the necktie around them, making a secure and tight bond that she would not be able to get out of. I removed the rest of her clothes, then I stood her in front of the mirror and dangled the noose in front of her. “Now come with me,” I commanded. And I guided her into the bedroom where the chin-up bar was waiting. If it would hold a big guy like me it would certainly handle her weight. “Now I know why you were so interested in this apparatus,” I said. Melissa nodded, saying nothing. I flipped the noose over the bar and tied it off around one of the pegs.

“That’s not high enough,” she said, observing that the noose hung at her neck level as she stood on the floor.

“No problem.” I went to the living room where two sturdy applecrates were stacked and filled with old record albums. I hastily pulled the records from the crates and brought them into the bedroom. I placed them below the noose about 18 inches apart and guided Melissa up onto them — one foot on each. Then I placed the noose around her neck, carefully setting the noose just behind her left ear, and pulled it snug. Watching the rope tighten around her neck set my cock to throbbing once again. I secured the rope and stepped back to admire my handiwork.

“Just a moment,” I said. Melissa looked so good there, naked and bound with the noose around her neck, that I couldn’t resist. “This is a photo opportunity if I ever saw one,” I said, reaching for my Polaroid. She posed there for me, her pretty tits standing out like hard apples, her neck stretched out and her head tilted slightly to the right from the pull of the rope. I could hear her breath, raspy under the tightness around her throat. Melissa offered her all for the camera, the sexy girl being hanged. She turned her shoulders and stuck her breasts out for me. I took a dozen photos, laying them out on the bed as they popped out of the camera, still undeveloped but the images slowly materializing. Then I discarded the rest of my clothes in a pile and stepped up to her.

“You understand I’m going to fuck you while I’m hanging you,” I told her. I’m six-foot-three and Melissa is almost a foot shorter, so with her standing on the applecrates our genitals were at the same height from the floor. I rubbed the head of my cock between her legs and felt that she was dripping wet. Her cunt was ready to be filled and she seemed to suck me inside until I was buried completely in her. Then she began pump. I stared down at her neck, stretched so high and tight. It pulsed anew with each breath she took in.. It was too inviting. I placed one hand around her neck and gently pressed my thumb into the hollow of her throat. Melissa groaned.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” she said thickly.

I began to rub my thumb against her windpipe, feeling her breath moving inside, and she started coming. She was pumping furiously, banging her breasts against me and bowing forward which pulled the rope even tighter around her neck. She came hard, huffing lustily. When her jerking body quieted, I figured she’d want to be let down. But I was wrong. Melissa wasn’t yet finished. Still impaled on my hard cock, she lifted one leg and wrapped it around my thigh. Then, carefully, she lifted the other and wrapped it around me too.

“Do my throat some more. Please,” she begged.

“You like hanging, don’t you? I said.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. And saying so, she started pumping again, I fondled her throat with one hand, squeezing hard, and pulled at her nipples with the other. Melissa rocked hard for a longer time than before until she came again. After that second orgasm, I think she was probably ready to come down. She unwrapped her legs from me and replaced them on the applecrates. I gently slid my cock out of her and stood back to admire her helpless beauty once again.

I had planned to lay her down on my bed now and ride her until I came inside her, but I couldn’t stop myself from what I did next. I slid one of the applecrates to the center, directly below her and she immediately placed both feet on it. I removed the extra crate. I knew I should let her down now, but I didn’t. Instead, I kicked the remaining crate away from her feet, leaving her dangling, by her neck with no support. at all.

Melissa’s pretty mouth opened wide and her lips twitched, She kicked wildly, her bound hands sticking out behind her, useless as she twisted and danced. Her body jerked furiously and I realized that she was coming again. Not from fucking this time, but from the dangerous thrill of really being hanged, I grabbed the Polaroid once again and clicked off four more shots, expending the roll of film in the process. I let her hang there for another two whole minutes, until she stopped kicking and hung still, admiring how beautiful she looked, then I untied the rope from its peg and slowly lowered her to the ground. where she lay gasping and purple faced, the rope still so tight around her neck that she could not breathe. She was barely conscious anyway. I loosened the noose and she immediately gasped and started coughing.

I untied her hands and carried her to the bed. She lay there coughing and gasping for a minute until she gained some of her composure.

“You hanged me,” she said, her voice rough and thick. “You really hanged me by the neck.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. Are you all right?”

She nodded, still coughing but clearly not injured.

“Did I do the wrong thing?”

“No. You did what I wanted.” Like a grateful child, she hugged me tightly.

I kissed her hard, crawling on top of her and penetrated her once again with my iron-hard cock. We fucked hard for a long time until we both came again. Melissa confessed that she always had fantasized about being hanged, feeling thin air beneath her dangling feet. She kissed me deeply and thanked me for fulfilling the desire she had always kept secret, She said that no man had ever touched her throat before like I had. It was also the first time anyone had tied her hands behind her back and she liked that a lot. She got herself all horny again talking about it.

I was surprised when Melissa took my hand and placed around her neck again, taking care to place my thumb firmly into the hollow of her throat. “Just for a little while more,” she begged. “Please.”

I pressed hard, adding my other hand for leverage, “Let me know when you want me to let up,” I said.

Melissa made no effort to stop me, offering up her lovely, long neck for me to squeeze while I pumped her cunt like a piledriver. It only took a minute for her to come yet again, bucking wildly. Then we laid there naked, cuddled together on my bed until we both fell asleep.

When I woke up it was already eight in the morning. Melissa was gone. She had taken four of the photos with her, two of her standing on the crates, modeling for me, and two of her hanging and kicking suspended only by the noose around her neck. She’d also left a brief note. It said “In case I didn’t say it enough last night, thank you for everything. And I do mean EVERYTHING. Please call me.” She’d jotted down her phone number.

I called immediately but she wasn’t at home. I left a message, including my own phone number, and she did call me back two days later. We went out together a lot for a few months. I hanged Melissa quite a few times during that period. Then she told me that she’d been offered a good job in Los Angeles and she was going to take it. I was crushed. I asked her to marry me, but she didn’t want to be married. I had started a business of my own here and it was starting to do well. There was no way I could relocate it to Los Angeles right then. And so she moved away.

We kept in touch for awhile, running up huge phone bills in the first few months. I even visited her in LA once , and her hair had grown back enough to have a sexy, boyish short haircut. While I was out there I hanged her from a tree up in Malibu canyon and fucked her while she dangled, no clinging to me for support and no crates to stand on. She kicked and jerked at the rope’s end for a whole four minutes until she lost consciousness. And she recovered unharmed. But that was the last time. She got a promotion and she moved north to Vancouver, and I didn’t hear from her again. I was heartbroken. I was terribly in love with her. I would gladly have dumped my business to join her in a second by then but it was too late.

A year later, I got up on the world wide web and found out how to download photos from various sex newsgroups. Last night I downloaded a bunch of bondage photos and there among them were two shots of Melissa, one of the pictures I had taken that first night hanging by her neck and another of her bound and wearing a ball gag. I’m searching for her whereabouts now, but nobody seems to know where she is, since her photo was submitted anonymously in a photo exchange. Maybe you’ve seen these shots. If not, if you’re lucky, maybe you will.

 

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