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Hair Crisis
by Jack Milton (1996)
***
A guy gets the ride of his life when he hooks up with a
beautiful woman who likes choke-sex, and takes full
advantage of her kinky nature. (MF, axp, cons, mast,
oral, extreme)
***
Warning: This story includes descriptions of a woman
being hanged for sexual pleasure, strangled while giving
oral sex, strangled and hanged during sex. All
consensual and non-lethal.
***
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.
It was three weeks ago that 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 is 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 its 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 again, "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 anyone 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.
"Okay, 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 jaw line. 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 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 cum
harder. 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'll do. Have you
got a piece of rope, or a necktie?"
"Yeah, I do." I was trembling. I'd never had the 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.
All the time I kept saying to myself, 'My gonna get me
some pussy, I'm gonna get me some pussy,' her asking me
to do it had to mean that she was going to let me fuck
her.
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 cum.
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.
Briefly, 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 cum hard and
long every time.
"Okay," 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
apple crates 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 apple
crates 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, amazed.
"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 apple crates. 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 apple crates 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 hung me," she said, her voice rough and thick. "You
really hung by the neck."
"I'm sorry," I said. I couldn't help myself. Are you all
right?" I asked, very nervous suddenly.
She nodded, still coughing but clearly not injured.
"Did I do the wrong thing?"
"No. You did what I wanted. That was fantastic!" 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 it
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 pile-driver. 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 L.A. 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 in 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.
That was the last time we did it together. 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 or at the very least in lust 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 found this site on the Internet, and
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 with her 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 and if not - if you're lucky - maybe you will.
END
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any
of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 80