I'm a short hair kind a guy. I've always liked it that way. As soon as my hair reaches the top of my ear, or that I can spot that it's long enough to not stand up on its own, it's time to swing by the barber's place.
The drawback, of course, is that this routine doesn't allow my Goddess to indulge in one of her favorite activities, hair pulling. Sadly, my sense of the functional doesn't always present her with the opportunity to reach for my hair when the mood strikes her. And we both miss that.
There's something very powerful about having my Goddess grab a hand full of my hair, and bringing me close to her, directing me in the direction she wants, or keeping me still.
She may want to look deep into my eyes, hungry to exert her dominance over me. She may want to make sure I'm totally focused on her while she tells me what she wants, what she wants to do to me, or she just teases me. She may want to have a kiss right then and there. She may want to exhale a drag of her cigarette into my mouth. She may want to direct me to pleasure her. She may want to use my hair as a lead to have me follow her. Or she may simply want to hurt me, one of those little moments of benevolent sadism.
Control... physical and mental. Dominance of her will and desires over mine. A display of her ownership of me. Such a simple action, such a powerful reaction.
Just a few days ago, I was sharing with my Goddess that I was planning on getting my hair cut as soon as I found a little time to go to the barber's. I was totally taken aback when she said no. My Goddess made it clear to me that I wasn't to cut my hair in the next two weeks. We do have some opportunities coming up for some extended play, and it looks like some serious hair-pulling is in the plans, among many other things.
I've been thinking of what is to come, and what may come, incessantly since that moment...