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Janine leaned forward again and with her right arm reached behind her neck and swung her mane in front of her. She tilted her head down, grabbed my cock by its base and began wrapping her hair around and around it until it was completely covered and encased in a silken cocoon.
"I don't know how long I can stand this, Janine."
"Tell me when you can't, or you'll be sorry."
I don't know whether it was the tone of her voice or the feeling of her hair around my cock, but the tingling in my extremities quckly became waves of sensation throughout my body as she slid it up and down my shaft. I thrashed against my bonds until I came, landing sticky gobs of come all over her tresses. Janine looked at me with daggers in her eyes.
"I told you to tell me. Now look what you've done to my hair." She unwound her cum-soaked hair, and gathered it in her left hand. "Look at this mess you've made."
"I'm sorry, Janine. I couldn't help myself. You don't understand the power you have over me."
"But I do," she said, whipping me across the face several times with her hair, leaving traces of my own cum sticking to my face.
"What are you going to do about this mess you've made?"
"If you'll untie me, I'll wash it for you," I replied.
"And dry it," she added.
And so I did.
###
Janine and I were married a year later. She made me wait until then just to fuck her; our wedding night was definitely on her terms. But she now trusts me to play gently with her hair and control myself, and we keep finding new ways for her hair to bring us pleasure.
But sometimes, if I'm good, Janine gets out the scarves, and just for old times sake, fastens me to the bed and makes me beg her to let down her hair.
