Over the course of my life I’ve had hair in many different colours. Never black or grey, but I think everything else has been covered at some point. However, I’ve never been able to answer the age old question of whether blondes do have more fun. When I first met Sir, I asked early on if he had any thoughts on what I should do with my hair. I was due a chop, and had cropped hair, dyed dark auburn. He requested that I grow it long and eventually go blonde.
It took almost four years, but finally my hair was at a length where it would stay out of my face when tied up. My mum could often be heard asking when I was going to chop it all off, but of course “when Sir says so” isn’t really an appropriate answer. I must admit to enjoy the sparring over my hair length, at a time when she and I were rebuilding our relationship it enabled me to lay down boundaries. Post P she had been poisoned by him while I’d not been able to share the truth of our marriage. We soon established that my hair was not up for discussion, and though I imagine she thought I was just being belligerent I knew what it meant to me.
It was late May 2018 when I took the plunge. There was a task, to push myself and find a way to please him. I had no idea where to go with this until I sat absent mindedly brushing my hair. Long, blonde hair was the initial request. Now I was half way there, with the length, I could start on the colour.
With the question do blondes have more fun than brunettes in mind, the task was decided.
It had been many years since I’d lightened my hair. The first time I’d been blonde, age fifteen, a salon had stripped the natural tones to a pale, yellowy blonde. The second time, some five years later, I’d been a very patchy leopard with orange splodges through my short hair. With a little help I managed to even it out. But I was older this time, more experienced at dying hair. And as it was long I could evenly spread the colour. I set to work, checked the colour after thirty minutes, then forty. My natural colour wasn’t really lifting, so at fifty minutes I washed it away. I was a little lighter, but patchy. Definitely not the result I had in mind!
I asked Pink “Don’t you think blondes have more fun when it’s an even colour?”
She laughed, groaned, and then offered to help me sort it out. I was only on day three of the nine day week I’d been given so there was plenty of time to rectify the situation. Two days later I arrived at hers. Unlike the time before where I’d arrived with ropes, toys and a strap on, this time I had boxes of colour in hand. Immediately she set to work. I was soon smothered in colourant, and with my hair wrapped in a plastic bag and towel she fed me lunch of her speciality: brocolli, blue cheese and pasta. (This was delicious, I really must ask for the recipe.)
With tummy’s full of deliciously decadent pasta it was time to check on progress. Both convinced that I’d be light and even we agreed the checked patch was looking great, so began removing it all. By the time my hair was washed out and dried we could see the colour was slightly less even than hoped. And certainly darker plan planned for. I was now a very glamourous mouse brown colour. It was, at least even, and I was very grateful for the help in lightening it. And lunch!
This was hard work! I was becoming convinced that blondes don’t have more fun.
In a last ditch attempt to perfect my colour I found a budget salon. Here I could just turn up and wait for an appointment. I’d ask them to try and sort me out.
Perhaps I should mention at this point having my hair cut is not a treat. Aside from the time spent in the hairdressers, having my hair played with and conversation with strangers who you couldn’t get away from if they weren’t your kind of person- none of these endeared me to salons, but this was not for me. Submission can take many different forms, and I was about to learn where mine would take me.
I can’t say that I was comfortable at any point during my three hours in the chair.
My consultant was so upset to see the layers of inexperience colouring my locks. She worked hard to strip what she could and then used experience and quality products to transform my hair. A wash, cut and dry, with styling, finished the process and I left a new woman. She was only happy when I promised I wouldn’t try to do it myself again. That I would come back semi-regularly and have my roots done. I still had to reconcile the me that hates salons with the submissive me that wanted to please Sir very much. Boundary pushing can be about trying new (and scary) kinks, or it can be challenging old behaviours and growing from them.
This task represented the latter, without a doubt.
I was really happy to hear that Sir appreciated my efforts. Not only was it a big change, but it was also a huge pledge to him as his submissive. I had no idea how the maintenance of my hair would make me feel over time, but enthusiastically altering my appearance so much for him was a bond I felt keenly. It isn’t really even about whether the colour of your hair influences your life experiences. For me this is a strengthened commitment to my Dominant.
Confusion at the salon a few months later led to my hair bleached instead of lightened with colour. The golden honey tresses transformed to the (almost) white blonde you see in my more recent photos. The blonde stays, even when a pandemic hits and hairdressers change the way they work. It is a part of my submission, our dynamic, as much as skirts are. A gentle, over-riding D/s twist that comforts and challenges in equal measure.
All of my adventures to this point have been as a brunette. Now, it’s time to see if blondes really do have more fun.
The next chapter will be coming soon, and we can start to find an answer to this question..
Do Blondes Have More Fun is the sixth picture for self shot photography week. The second theme for February Photo Fest 2022.
From the story of how the barefoot sub became the woman she is today, to toy reviews, with a hefty dose of contemplation, a sprinkling of erotica and a LOT of nudity in between, you can be sure to find something to tickle your fancy at A Leap Of Faith.