You noticed her hair first – a long, thick, stunning mane of rich copper falling to her waist. Jasmine was the first person I’d met at college – her room was only a couple of doors down from mine, and it turned out that we were taking the same course. Soon we were good friends, used to sharing classes, comfortable with bumping into each other while going to and from the bathrooms wearing a towel, and aware when the other hadn’t come home that night – in which case the events of the previous evening were recounted over coffee the following morning. These usually involved Jasmine rather than me, because although my high school girlfriend was now at a college 200 miles away, neither of us had felt the need to end the relationship.
Since then I had met a girl called Bethany, all dark hair, long legs and huge, anxious brown eyes, with whom I had developed an intense, somewhat angst-ridden friendship which threatened to spill over into a relationship but somehow never quite did. Being 19, I thought the angst and intensity meant depth and complexity. Jasmine, who was less susceptible than I to waifs with big brown eyes, short skirts and a suspiciously practiced pout, thought Bethany was an annoying drama queen and clearly felt I could do better.
For my part, I felt pretty much the same about Jasmine’s choice of boyfriends. She was clever and hard-working so as to border on being geeky, but clearly had a type: guys who played sports, drank alcohol in medically unwise quantities, and generally displayed a rather obvious version of masculinity which I found irritating. She’d already had several flings with guys of this type, all of which seemed to have fizzled out after disappointingly bad sex. I had told her that she needed someone smarter and more emotionally intelligent, and that trying the same thing over again and hoping for different results was a definition of insanity. To which she had relied no, it was the definition of dating, and that while she may not have had the sex of her dreams at least she’d had some fun, which was better than I’d managed with Bethany.
“But if you’re a really good slave, maybe she’ll let you hold her hand next year?”
“I’ll hold out for the sex of my dreams, thanks,” I answered. “Bethany has hidden depths.”
Jasmine giggled. “Her depths weren’t exactly hidden in that dress she had on yesterday. Although I’m sure you were far too busy admiring her beautiful mind to notice…” Fair point. Bethany believed that as a girl blessed with long, slim, toned legs it was important to have virtually every inch of them on display for her admiring public.Jasmine was a few inches shorter than Bethany, much fuller figured, and her wardrobe seemed to consist of clothes ranging from comfy to shapeless. If she dressed differently for a date, I’d never noticed.
“They were hidden by a very small black lace thong,” I retorted. “Well, just about.”
“Perving your not-even-girlfriend’s panties…ewww!” Jasmine’s pale blue eyes widened in mock-disgust. “Did you steal them afterwards for your private pleasure?” she teased. For a studious girl who was often shy in public, Jasmine’s sense of humour could be reassuringly dirty.
I grinned. “So the guys you’ve dated haven’t had any interest in your underwear? Or are they big on muscle but not smart enough to undo a bra without watching Youtube instructions over your shoulder? No wonder your dates haven’t been so great…” I failed to dodge as Jasmine threw the end of her bacon sandwich at me.
* * *
This was a fairly typical chat over breakfast. Jasmine and I both shared the same early morning classes, and to make sure we were both up in time she’d stop by my room on the way back from her morning shower. I’d got used to making coffee for two rather than one, and she’d sit at my desk chair while she drank it, wearing one of her long, shapeless, comfy-looking nightshirts which stopped just above the knee. (Bacon sandwiches were an occasional extra, if I knew she’d been out with a boyfriend the previous night and might need carbs as well as moral support). By the time she’d finished her coffee her hair was dry enough for her to attempt to tame it, and she’d go back to her room to finish getting ready.
But this morning Jasmine was late. I gave her ten minutes, then figured I should check in on her to make sure she was up – but no sooner had I got up than the door opened and in she came, still dripping wet from the shower and vigorously towelling her hair.
“Evening, princess,” I grinned. Everyone called Jasmine that – an inevitable consequence of sharing her name with a Disney character, albeit one with whom she had nothing particularly in common. Still, at least her parents hadn’t named her Ariel…
“Sadly not,” she replied. “Evening is when I can have the drinks I am already promising myself for surviving today. This is morning, I’ve overslept, and now I don’t have time to have coffee jojobet *and* do my hair before class.” She grinned, sat down in her usual chair, cradled the coffee mug in her hands and took a long, blissful gulp.
“Mmmmmm,” she continued. “Sorry, hair, but a girl has needs.”
“I thought girls could multi-task,” I teased her. “You can’t brush and drink coffee both at once?” And then I heard myself say, “I’ll brush you – you sit there and get that coffee inside you, and I’ll tame the mane today.”
Jasmine blushed a little as she looked up from her coffee. “I’d love that,” she said, and tone came into into her voice that I hadn’t heard before, although I thought nothing particularly of it. As I picked up my hairbrush and moved to stand behind her chair she smiled up at me.
“Today just got a whole lot better. I adore having my hair brushed and played with. My last boyfriend used to do it for me sometimes…” She broke off briefly and gave a quick gasp as my brush caught in a tangle and pulled her head back slightly.
“Sorry,” I apologised. “Did I pull?”
“It’s okay,” she said, flushing a little. “It’s fine – it feels so good if you’re firm. My boyfriend was scared of pulling too hard, and I could never get him to…” She bit her lip as I pulled the brush slowly through a particularly tough tangle.
“Be firm enough?” I asked?
“Mmhmm,” she replied. She was leaning back against the chair with her head back and eyes half closed. The coffee mug was on the table, still half full; caffeine was no longer the most interesting thing after all.
Taking her at her word, I began to brush more firmly still, holding her hair in my left hand as I wielded the brush with my right. I could feel the bristles pulling roughly through curls and tangles, and hearing the slight tearing sound as they forced their way through. Jasmine didn’t complain – just arched her back a little to move her head further back for me. Gradually, it became easier to pass the brush through her tresses, and I could run it from the top of her head to the ends of her hair in a single stroke.
“Mmmmm…that’s gorgeous,” she sighed. “You could do that forever.”
“Sure I’m not pulling too hard?”
“No, it’s perfect. You can go harder if you want…if you need to…” She closed her eyes again and leaned a further back, spreading her legs a little as she did so. Her nightdress rose up a little and I realised I was staring. Everyone admired Bethany’s legs when she wore a short skirt, but I’d never really noticed Jasmine’s until now. As she leaned back I could see the delicious curve of her thighs, much fuller than Bethany’s and pale, almost pearl-white in colour. I suddenly realised that I was staring, and was aware that my cock was aching a little…
I dragged my gaze back upwards and resumed brushing.
“So what was wrong with how your boyfriend did it?” I asked. “Scared of hurting you?” She nodded and closed her eyes in anticipation as she felt the brush begin to pull through from underneath. I was a little surprised by quite how much Jasmine was enjoying herself, but the truth was that I was also finding the experience far more sensual than I’d ever have anticipated. Her beautiful hair felt wonderful in my hands and against my skin, and I was a little shocked to find that I was enjoying watching her squirm with discomfort – or was it pleasure? – as I pulled through the tangles.
Unlike her boyfriend, rather than being gentle I found myself wanting to see just how hard I could pull. What would it take before she begged for mercy? And why was the thought of Jasmine begging me for mercy suddenly such a turn-on?
“I’m going to give you what your boyfriend wouldn’t,” I told her. “I’m going to give you the strictest brushing you’ve ever had.” Was I imagining that she arched her back a little further as I said that? “When I have finished, there will be no tangles, no knots.” I took a bunch of her hair in my left hand, holding it tightly by her scalp, and Jasmine gave a little moan as I pulled her head a little back.
“Everything will be perfect,” I went on, talking soothingly as I began to brush her firmly with my right hand. “But it has to hurt a little. You understand that, don’t you?” I pulled my left hand tighter, and to my surprise Jasmine whimpered in answer, “Yes…I understand…do it, do it…please…” Oh fuck. Why did my cock twitch hearing her whimper like that?
For the next ten or fifteen minutes I brushed every beautiful inch of her gorgeous hair while she sat obediently on my desk chair, sometimes squirming, sometimes biting her lip, sometimes giving a little moan if I pulled particularly sharply. I could see the delicate skin just above her neck being pulled in a way that I knew must hurt, but she never complained or asked me to be more gentle.
And so I finally gave in to temptation and began to hurt her deliberately, gradually jojobet Giriş pulling her hair cruelly tight until the pain was almost too much, then stopping and soothe her with gentle, caressing strokes from the brush, as I told her what a good girl she was being for not struggling or complaining. Soon I was using my fingers as much as the brush, wrapping her hair around them and pulling it exquisitely tight.
I looked at her face and was shocked to see an expression I understood: half closed eyes, parted lips, head tilted back. Glancing down and my eyes widened as I knew I was right. Jasmine’s squirming had caused her nightdress to ride up further, although if she had noticed she no longer cared. Her thighs were parted wide, exposing a pair of plain black cotton panties. Any lingering doubts about just how much Jasmine was enjoying herself were dispelled as soon as I saw the large damp patch spreading out across the front of the fabric.
So that was why Jasmine liked her hair brushed so firmly. Was that why her boyfriend wouldn’t do it? She liked pain, and he didn’t like hurting his girlfriend?
Why hadn’t she stopped me? Half an hour ago we had been friends. Now, her pussy was soaking, my cock was aching, and I was caught up in the adrenaline rush from controlling Jasmine’s pain and pleasure. Or, to put it more crudely, she was getting off on the pain and I was getting off hurting her.
I looked down at her face again. She was completely lost in the moment, still with a look of ecstasy on her features. I had never seen anyone look so beautiful. As millions must have wondered before me, if this feels so right, how can it be bad?
I knelt behind her chair, slipped my right hand under her hair to brush the nape of her neck with my fingertips, instinctively twisting my fingers in her hair to tilt her head slightly. My other hand moved to her thigh, gently caressing its soft curves, feeling it yield deliciously to the pressure of my fingers.
“Oh, princess,” I murmured, brushing her ear with my lips. “It feels so good, doesn’t it?” I twisted my fingers sharply in her hair. “Here…” – my other hand slid a little higher to brush her panties with my fingertips – “and here too.” She trembled a little at my touch but made no attempt to stop me. I could feel the heat from her damp pussy through the cotton.
“If I do anything you don’t like,” I murmured as my fingers began to rub her wet pussy slowly through her panties, “just say ‘Red’ – like your beautiful hair – and we stop. Say it twice for me now so I know we’re okay.” Her eyes closed, Jasmine squirmed on the chair, pressing her pussy against my fingers. “Red…red…oh fuck, keep doing that pleeeease,” she moaned, breaking off into a whimper.
I teased her pussy through her panties a little more, feeling with my fingertip for the source of the wetness, then slowly rubbing in between her pussy lips, sliding my finger up and back down. “Oh princess,” I whispered in her ear. “You’ve been a naughty girl.” I pulled her hair cruelly tight and was rewarded with another whimper of pain. “There have to be consequences when girls are naughty,” I went on, wondering on. “It has to hurt a little more, but if you take the pain like a good girl…”
My fingers slipped inside her panties and Jasmine moaned again as I felt my way between her lips, parting them with two fingers before slipping my middle finger between them. “I’ll let you cum on my fingers.” I slid my finger up her warm, dripping slit and teased her clit with the tip. Jasmine bit her lip.
“I adore how wet you get,” I whispered. “But you can’t have the pleasure without the pain as well. You understand that, don’t you?” She tried to nod, but with my fingers still twined in her hair only managed to bow her head. Submission. I could get used to this.
My fingertip began to trace slow circles and figures-of-eight over her clit as my other hand teased her hair, toying with her. Her thighs were spread wide now, and she was still trying to rub her aching pussy against my fingers. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Trust me, princess. I’ll take care of you. But you cum when I choose.” I could feel the tension ebb from her body as she relaxed, closed her eyes and gave in to the moment.
I played with her a few minutes more, exploring, feeling, experimenting. My finger slipped effortlessly up and down her slick pussy lips, feeling downwards to ease the tip of my finger just a little inside her, feeling her grip me a little as I entered her. Twisting her hair tighter with my fingertip still inside, and I was rewarded with her pussy pulsing and clenching deliciously around my finger as the pain flowed through her. I could only guess how good it would feel with her pussy doing that to my hard, aching cock…but for now I just slipped my finger a little deeper in and told her how good she felt.
I started to learn her body a little, to feel her jojobet Güncel Giriş thigh muscles tense in anticipation as she came close to cumming, her breathing sharper and more shallow, and that was my cue to relax the tension on her hair and stroke her pussy more slowly again, keeping her exquisitely poised on the edge. Then back up to her clit, more teasing and stroking, while just brushing the nape of her neck with my fingertips – so beautifully pale that the skin there was almost translucent. I didn’t then understand that pain could make an area more sensitive to the touch, but I could see that even the most gentle caress there would now have her give a little gasp of pleasure.
But at the same time I was starting to explore darker waters too. I quickly found that Jasmine liked being told that she was a bad girl, and that she deserved to be punished and hurt. I found she liked it when I bit her earlobe, a little too hard to be playful. I felt her pussy grip my finger tightly when I bit her delicate neck and made her squeal with pain. I felt myself excited, but a little scared, when I saw how I had marked her…
“Will you be a good girl if I let you cum now?” I murmured.
“If I deserve it,” she whispered. Oh *fuck*. We had come a long way in thirty minutes.
“You deserve it, princess,” I answered quietly, my fingertip working her aching clit a little faster as my fingers teased her hair, gradually pulling it tighter. I could hear her breathing faster, and this time I fingered her clit faster and more firmly, letting her push back against my fingers this time. And then I heard myself say, “Cum for me, you bad girl. I’m going to hurt you, and you’re going to cum so…fucking…hard…”
Seconds later, Jasmine was screaming as I pulled her hair up and bit the back of her neck, gradually increasing the force of my bite as I felt her thighs tremble, and her pussy was suddenly soaking wet, and she was cumming all over my fingers and hand, grinding herself against me, helpless with pain and ecstasy and no longer knowing or caring where one ended and the other began.
I was breathing hard too. I hadn’t bitten anyone since…actually, I never had. Where had that come from? Cautiously, I released my teeth from her neck.
Jasmine’s eyes were still closed. She looked totally relaxed, with a half smile on her lips. Again, I thought I had never seen anyone look so beautiful.
I stood up, one hand gently stroking her beautiful hair while I took the fingers of my other in my mouth. She half-opened her eyes as I got up, and then opened them fully as she saw what I was doing. I met her gaze, and continued to clean her pussy juices from my fingers with my tongue, letting her see how much I loved to taste her.
It also gave me a minute to think, because for once I was lost for words. I’d spent more than half an hour systematically, deliberately inflicting pain one of my best friends. I’d told her she was a bad girl who deserved to be hurt. I’d pulled her hair and bitten her. It had seemed so completely right at the time, but now it was over, and judged by my normal standards this behaviour was fundamentally wrong on all levels. I was suddenly caught in a wave of disgust and self-loathing. What had I done?
Two minutes later I realised that I was still stroking Jasmine’s hair. Her arms were around me, holding me tight, and her head was snuggled into my waist, just above my hip. Whatever I might be feeling, she still seemed pretty okay with things.
I looked down at her. “Princess?” I said, a little uncertainly. “You all right?”
She looked up at me, her eyes bright. I thought I could see tears glistening in them, but the smile on her face was radiant. My self-loathing evaporated as I understood that her smile was for me, and that I had put it there.
“Next time,” she said, a little shakily, “I promise I’ll wear something a little sexier than my oldest black cotton knickers and a grey Hello Kitty nightdress.” Next time. I liked the sound of that.
“So this isn’t your date night outfit?” I smiled. “Well, if I asked you out for dinner tonight, maybe that might be an excuse to wear it? Unless you already have plans? Washing your hair, maybe…?”
“Hmmm…” Jasmine pursed her lips. “Does this have to be either/or? Dinner sounds lovely, but you could come and help me get ready first? Maybe check my hair is okay? And I could thank you properly for an amazing, perfect morning…if you like?” She blushed a little. “I so want to now. I want to take care of you. If you’ll let me?” Her blush deepened. “But we have classes soon and I don’t want to rush. No one’s done what…what you did…for me, and I want to…” She tailed off and blushed deeper still.
“Keep me in suspense until tonight, princess,” I told her. “I’m going to spend every minute of the rest of the day imagining what you might have in mind. Whatever it is, it’ll be perfect. But for now, I guess I’d better let my gorgeous girlfriend get ready for class…and maybe if she’s ready in ten minutes we could walk over together?”
Jasmine stood up, and kissed me.
“See you in ten minutes,” she said, smiled once more, and left.