His Bad Hair Day

Copyright Oggbashan October 2002

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Version 001 27 October 2002

* * * * *

I saw her black hair glistening down her back across the crowded room. It swung in a gleaming mass over the bare skin of her shoulders and back. From where I was I couldn't see any part of her dress. She seemed to be naked except for that glorious curtain of hair hiding and then revealing her shoulders.

I'd always been attracted to glossy black hair and she had the hair of my dreams. Whoever she was I had to meet her. I wanted to run my hands through her hair and feel it spread over my skin as well as hers.

Then I realised that she was talking to my ex-wife Joanne. Joanne and I had been divorced for a couple of years now and we could meet socially and behave like civilised people again. During the divorce we had behaved badly to each other. Now we could at least talk to each other.

I made my way through the crush of people until I was just behind that beautiful hair. Joanne saw me approaching. She smiled at me.

"Hello Sam. I wasn't expecting you to be here. Have you met Della?"

The head of hair swung alluringly and I saw Della's face for the first time. She had a black satin Alice band keeping her hair away from her face. She was older than I'd expected from the hair, probably about my age. There were the beginnings of lines in her forehead and her neck showed that she was a mature woman not a young girl. One black eyebrow lifted at me.

"No, I'm sure that we've never met. Will you introduce me, please, Joanne?"

"With pleasure. Della, this is Sam. He is my ex-husband but I think he's all right now. We treated each other cruelly once but now as you can see we are on speaking terms again. Apart from being my ex-husband he is reasonable company. He earns enough to keep both of us in comfort." Della nodded briefly to me. Joanne paused.

"Sam, this is Della. She's a mystery woman. She's recently moved to this town to start a business but she hasn't told anyone much about herself. I've been vainly trying to get her to open up but she's been elusive. Perhaps your charm might succeed where my light conversation hasn't. I'll leave Della to you while I freshen up."

I recognised that Joanne was being sarcastic. "My charm" had been part of the reason for the divorce. She had thought that I spent too much time with other women. I enjoyed women's company but I had been faithful to Joanne even if I neglected her at events like this party. I always wanted to meet new women, especially women with masses of hair. At any social occasion I'd abandon Joanne as soon as I saw big hair on an attractive woman.

Joanne wasn't bald. Her hair was pleasant but cut close to her head. She had had long fine blonde hair but now she preferred to keep it short and well-cut. When we met her hair had been waist length. I loved it but Joanne had cut it about two years after our marriage when she started work in a new laboratory environment. Her hair wouldn't fit under the protective caps that she had to wear. She went to a hairdresser in her lunch break to have it cut short. She hadn't even told me. One evening I came home to a short-haired wife. My fetish was hair and Joanne had cut hers shorter than mine. That evening we had the first row of the series that led to our divorce.

I came to with a start. Della had spoken to me almost as if she'd read my thoughts.

"Joanne tells me that you love women's hair. Is that true?"

I nodded.

"What do you think of mine?" she asked, shaking her hair as she tossed it back.

"I think that it is wonderful. I don't think that I've ever seen such a beautiful display of glossy black hair."

"Joanne also said that if you were here, you would come to me as soon as you saw me. Was she right, Sam?"

"Yes. I saw your hair from the other side of the room and came to see who had such ravishing tresses."

"They are nice, aren't they? Would you like to get close to my hair, Sam?"

Hold it! I thought. Della is going far too fast. I usually make the running. While I was married to Joanne I never went further than just talking to a woman with attractive hair. Since our divorce I had gone further with one or two but I was basically shy. I became mesmerised when I got too close and actually had a relationship. I had been disappointed most times because the women wouldn't let me do much with their hair. It took so much effort to maintain their hair that they wouldn't use it in sexual foreplay. The worst had been one woman who kept her hair in a shower cap the whole evening in case I messed it up. That had been a disastrous one night stand. But I couldn't resist Della's hair.

"I'd love that, Della. Hair excites me, and your hair is the most exciting that I've ever seen."

"We can't have you excited without something to look forward to, can we, Sam?"

I nodded again, smiling inanely. Where was this conversation going? I struggled to speak.

"What do you mean, Della? I asked. Did she mean what I hoped?

"Joanne actually managed to make me feel attracted to you, Sam. I'd like to get to know more about you, but not this evening. I only dropped in on this party because Joanne said that you would be here. I have another appointment tonight."

My disappointment must have been obvious.

"Don't worry, Sam. I think I can arrange to see you again. Then you might get close to my hair, if ..." Della stopped, waiting for me to ask.

"If what, Della?"

"If you promise to do whatever I ask, then I'll let you get very close to my hair."

"Close to?"

"OK. You could touch it and feel it ..." Della's voice dropped to a whisper "all over your naked body. Would you like that?"

I nearly had an orgasm on the spot. Della was offering me the stuff of my fantasies within a few minutes of meeting me for the first time.

"I'd love it." I said from my strangled throat.

"Then I'll see what can be arranged. Would you be disappointed if not everything that touched you was hair? Say five per cent wasn't, like my hair band?"

"Even if ten per cent wasn't, the ninety per cent would put me in paradise."

"I'll take that as a contract. Ninety per cent of what touches your skin will be my hair, if you agree to do what I want without question. Will you agree?"

"Yes, Della, I agree."

"Good. We have a deal."

Della reached into her purse and produced a card.

"This is my address in town. Be there at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, showered and wearing clean clothes. What clothes doesn't matter. Jeans and a T-shirt would do. Don't make any appointments for the rest of the day. This is your last chance to back out. If you come then our contract is in force."

"I'll come." I said. I still couldn't believe my luck.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow morning. Now I really must go. I waited too long for you to arrive tonight. I won't wait for you again. You must be there at exactly nine o'clock."

"Yes, Della. I'll be there."

"Good." She leant forward, kissed me lightly on the cheek. Her hair brushed across my face as she swung away. I stood there dazed as she left the room.

Joanne spoke to me. She was standing in front of me with a mischievous smile.

"Did you find anything out from Della?" she asked.

I came back down to earth with a bump.

"No."

"I thought you wouldn't. You were entangled in her hair, weren't you?"

"Yes, Joanne. You know what beautiful hair does to me."

Joanne's smile faded to be replaced by a sad wistful look.

"I'm sorry that I cut my hair. I didn't know how much it meant to you at the time."

That was the closest Joanne had ever come to an apology about it. Suddenly I felt the memory of what we had meant to each other and regretted its passing. I took her hand.

"Come on, Joanne. Let's dance and enjoy ourselves this evening. We dance well together don't we?"

"Yes, Sam. We do. We know each other so well."

I enjoyed the rest of the evening with Joanne. I was excited by what tomorrow would bring but Joanne was someone with whom I'd shared so much. I even drove her to her house and had a good night peck on the cheek. I didn't understand her parting remark.

"Goodnight, Sam. Be careful that your dreams don't become real." Joanne had said. She looked sorry for me. Why?

*****

The next morning I rang Della's doorbell exactly at nine o'clock. She opened the door and smiled at me. Her hair was still as glossy and beautiful as it had been last night. I could hardly contain my excitement.

"Come in, Sam." she said. I followed her through the hall to the living room.

"Sit down, Sam. You know that you agreed to do anything I asked."

"Yes, Della."

"Good. I have to ask you a couple of questions. Whatever your answers you will still enjoy my hair, so do not worry."

"OK, Della."

"First question, then. What sort of dress was I wearing last night?"

I thought for a while. I couldn't remember the dress.

"I know that it was low-backed but that's all." I replied.

"What colour was it?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Della, I just don't know."

"That's OK, Sam. I told you not to worry about your answers. Any idea of its length, floor or knee?"

"No idea, Della."

This was odd. I couldn't remember what Della was wearing but she seemed pleased with my answers.

"Was I wearing earrings?"

"I don't know, Della. I think your ears were hidden under your hair."

"Was I wearing anything in my hair?"

"Yes. That I do remember. You were wearing a black satin Alice band."

"Like this one?" She produced an Alice band. It looked like the one she'd worn last night.

"Yes. That looks like it. I'm not sure it is the exact one."

"Do you remember our conversation about it?"

"Yes. We talked about percentages. I agreed to be satisfied with ninety per cent hair."

"Good, Sam."

She put the Alice band on her hair. I watched fascinated as she pulled her hair through it and settled it just above her forehead.

"Notice anything, Sam, now I've got it on?"

"Yes. I can see your ears and your earlobes. I don't know why I can't remember whether you were wearing earrings or not."

"Never mind, Sam. That was the last of the questions."

"Did I pass or fail?"

"It was not a pass or fail situation, Sam. The answers just decide what happens this morning. I promised you my hair whatever the answers were."

"Thank you, Della."

"Now we can get to what you came for. Come on."

I stood up. She took my hand and led me upstairs to the master bedroom. There were thick full length net curtains across the window. No one could see in. I could barely see out through them. Della noticed where I was looking.

"What we are going to do needs privacy, Sam. What do you think of my bed?"

I turned. It was a large four-poster with just two pillows and a bottom sheet. They were white satin as were the drapes hanging from the top rails. The head and foot of the bed were a series of turned poles with several crossbars between the mattress and the canopy. There were drawers in side of the base. I assumed there would be similar drawers on the other side.

"It looks very impressive, Della."

"It is, Sam. I had it specially made for me. Now strip, please, then get on the bed."

I stripped quickly. On the bed the satin sheet caressed my skin. Della moved to the side of the bed and pulled a drawer open.

"One thing you don't know about me, Sam, is that I keep all my hair. Whenever my brush removes one, I keep it."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"I make things with my hair. This is one of the things I've made. I think you'll like it."

It was a brush, like a shaving brush but with about six inches (15 cm) of her glossy black hair. She held it in front of my eyes and then brushed it across my chest. The brush was so soft and silky that my skin shuddered in response.

"Before I use this properly, I'm going to use some other things I have made from my hair. Look. This is cord made from my hair."

I looked. She held several lengths of thin cord. I believed her. The cord had the unmistakable glossy black of her hair. If they weren't made of her hair they could have been silk.

"Shut your eyes and follow my instructions."

"Yes, Della."

"Put your hands above your head, spread out, with the tips of your fingers just touching one of the upright poles."

I did. Then I felt the thin cords sliding round each wrist before securing each to a pole.

"Now, put your legs straight, side by side."

She tied a hair cord round each ankle, tied them together, and then tied them to a pole at the bottom of the bed.

"You can open your eyes now, Sam."

I looked at my wrists and ankles. They were secured to the frame of the bed with thin black cords. The cords were obviously her hair.

"Does it excite you to know that you are tied up with my hair, Sam?"

"Yes, Della. I can't believe it is possible. I dreamed about your hair but this ..."

"We've barely started, Sam. Try to get free."

I pulled at my hands and feet. Nothing gave. The bed did not even quiver.

"Try harder, Sam!" she ordered.

I tried as hard as I could. The cords were so thin yet they had no give in them at all. If I continued they would cut me.

"Now I'll try my brush again, Sam."

I winced as she gently tickled my nipples with her "hair" brush. Then she stroked across my chest in wide sweeps. I started to groan in pleasure. She frowned but continued. My groans got louder.

"Quiet, Sam! I don't want you to make so much noise."

"I can't help it, Della. Your hair is so silky."

"If you can't control yourself, I will."

She reached into the drawer.

"Shut your eyes, keep them shut and open your mouth wide."

I obeyed. I couldn't stop my eyes flicking open as she stuffed my mouth full of her hair. She fixed it in place with a wide band of hair which she tied behind my head.

"I told you to shut your eyes! You opened them!" she snapped.

I was gagging on the hair in my mouth, trying desperately to stop it from blocking my throat. She saw my efforts.

"It is a hair-ball, Sam. It is in one piece. It may feel as if it will slip into your throat, but it won't. It is too big. Relax!"

I believed her and relaxed. The hair-ball was uncomfortable but it wasn't moving.

"Try to speak, Sam."

I tried. Nothing came out.

"Good. Now you disobeyed me when I told you to keep your eyes shut. For that you must be punished."

Della took a length of cord and lashed my chest with it. It stung like a whip. My body convulsed with the pain. She lashed me again and again, viciously. I felt totally helpless and wholly at her mercy. She had tied me, gagged me and was now whipping me but everything was done only with her hair. Despite the pain I was feeling the pleasure of total submission to a woman's hair.

"I think you are enjoying it too much, Sam. I'll go to the next stage."

She pulled her Alice band off and allowed her hair to fall free. Then she straddled me and brushed her hair over my face, neck and shoulders. The perfume and caress of her hair was too much. In a swift convulsion I came spraying her buttocks as she bent forward.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "That was not nice, Sam. Now I'll have to change."

Haven't I said that she was wearing slacks and a T-shirt? I thought I had. Now her slacks were cum-covered as was the back hem of her T-shirt.

"I'll leave you to think about what punishment you deserve for that while I change. Back soon, Sam."

Della left the room. My cum dried in streaks across my belly. I writhed on the bed unable to change position. It seemed an eternity before Della returned. She wiped my belly clean with a damp cloth.

"This doesn't count as part of the percentage, Sam. I just want you clean. OK?"

I nodded. Then I looked properly at Della. She was wearing a black stretch cat-suit with short sleeves and a low scooped neckline. I could see the cleavage and some of a pair of respectable sized breasts. Della noticed where I was looking.

"That is the first time since we met that you have noticed that I've got tits, Sam. Nice ones, aren't they?"

She lifted one in a hand.

"I had them nearly popping out of my dress last night and you didn't look at them once. Why not, Sam?"

I couldn't answer. She answered for me.

"You didn't see them because all you saw was my hair. That is why you are here, Sam. You followed my hair until it tied you up."

I couldn't say anything through my gag.

"Ah yes. I have to punish you for messing my clothes. This you won't like, Sam."

Della took a hair cord, formed a running loop and pulled it tight round my balls. I tried to scream but I made no sound. My eyes watered. She knotted it and wound the cord in tight coils round my flaccid cock before knotting it again. I writhed futilely.

"That should stop you from an erection until I'm ready for you. Where was I? Oh yes, my lovely hair."

She straddled me again and swept her hair across my face again and again. The agony in my cock was like fire.

She moved down to my feet, sweeping her hair from side to side. I couldn't think of anything except the pain. If I could I would have begged her to stop. I would promise her anything to make her stop.

"Enjoying my hair, Sam?" she asked.

I shook my head as hard as I could.

"That is a shame. I will have to try harder."

She went on and on. I was weeping uncontrollably from the pain in my balls and cock. Her hair continued to torment me. I was changing from love of her hair to a real horror of it. Each slight touch was agony yet she continued mercilessly. I was screaming myself hoarse to get her to stop yet her hair prevented my cries being heard.

Finally it was too much. I fainted from the unending pain.

*****

I came to on my face, still gagged. I had been turned over and my wrists were now tied behind my back. My elbows were pulled together and tied to each other. I tried to lift my head up. I felt a hand on the back of my head. It turned my face sideways. I looked at Della's face lying on the bed beside me.

"With it again, Sam? Do you want some more of my hair?"

I shook my head.

"How unfortunate. I have one last very special treat for you. I have waited years to prepare it. You wanted my hair all over your bare skin. You are going to get it whether you want it or not. Roll over on your back. You can if I help you."

She rolled me over. My arms dug into my back. Only then did I notice that my balls and cock had been released. They were sore, very sore, but they were free.

"Now lift your legs in the air."

As I did she slid a soft silky material round them and up to my hips.

"Close your eyes and keep them closed." she ordered "No peeking! Remember what happened the last time you opened them without permission."

I closed my eyes and held them shut. She pulled the material further up towards my hips. It grabbed around my legs as if she was forcing both legs into a single stocking. Everywhere it touched me it pulled in relentlessly. Della had to ease it gradually, feeding my legs in further and further.

"Feet down. Raise your hips!" she ordered.

Then the pull came across my hips and constricted my waist like a tightly laced corset. Again she eased the material higher and higher until it was across my chest.

"Hips down. Sit up!"

I couldn't have sat up without her helping hands.

The material closed over my shoulders. The drag across my chest was making my breathing shallow and laboured. Yet the feel was soft, silky, feminine. It was perfumed just like Della's hair. Surely it wasn't?

I felt Della pull a zip up my back. The material closed around my neck.