Voodoo Hair Growth Oil の小説・ストーリー

There was a bottle of hair oil on his table and she took it, and let a few drops of the yellow liquid fall into her palms. She worked it all over the tips of his hair and then gave him a little scalp massage. She had been taught how to give the massages by her mother when she was younger, and they had always helped to relax her father and all her siblings. Besides, she knew it was the best way to oil a head or scalp, as it got blood flowing in the head. After a few minutes, she took the brush and brushed through his hair again, finally leaving his wavy hair to rest.

He said. Wow! So sweet of him. "Thank you so much." I said as I followed him to 'our' room. He poured all the hair products he brought on the floor. There are so many. "This is hair treatment, I bought two shampoos, this is anti dandruff, this is hair prevents Lice, this is for hair growth and I don't know about the rest. Go inside the bathroom, I will help you wash your hair." He says. That's so sweet of him but,

I suddenly could feel myself reducing and growing smaller, "help me, mother" I screamed my lungs out. "No!!!" I screamed as I woke up, the dream had seemed too real. l touch my forehead and left a cold sensation there. What kind of voodoo is that, that shit felt so real. I whispered still panting.

She offered. "I am, Missy, I am." He returned to the center of the sheet and lied down. Tracy got the bottles of massage oil out and explained each. "This one is lavender and lime. She held the bottle to his nose. Then this one is cucumber and dill. And this one is a heating oil meant to warm the skin." She explained. "You're making me hungry!" He smiled. "Let's go with the one you like most." He suggested. She was about to open the oil when Harry warned her:

I cleaned my tongue, turning to look at him with a lifted eye- brow. "Problem?" I asked, muffled by the paste and brush between my lips. "You're pushing me," he warned. "What are you going to do to me? Fuck me crudely and treat me like a whore? Oh, wait, you just did that. Spank me? You might not get the result you want. I might be into that shit, Saint." Grinning, I pointed to his head with my toothbrush, "You have soap in your hair. You will need to get your own. Unless, of course, you don't mind smelling like me all day long." I deadpanned him so hard he felt it. "The shampoo is enhanced with my scent and nullifying herbs that make my heat-cycle remain hidden and muted to the males. I'm u

Steam coiling in dramatic swirls, rose petals scattered like the scene of an emotional breakdown. And the shelves. Gods, the shelves. Shampoos. Oils. Serums. Twenty-two bottles, each labeled like a dissertation in seduction. I counted them twice, because I enjoy pain. “Twenty-two? What am I supposed to do, condition my soul?” I grabbed one. Almond blossom. Another. Pomegranate silk. A third. Coconut sunrise. “This isn’t hygiene,” I muttered. “It’s witchcraft.” Still, I climbed in. The water was perfect. Too perfect. Heat wrapped around me like a sin I’d pay for later.

"Oh dear, that will never do. I don't want that mess covering my cumdumpster's cunt." Using his power, he caused every hair below her eyes to fall off her body. She would no longer have arm hair or leg hair. Never have to worry about any hormonal hair over her lip or on her chin. All the fine hair on and around her ass and pussy all fell to the ground. "Mom, sweep up all this hair please while I finish showing Mrs. James how much of a cumdumpster she is for me.

When he’s satisfied I’ve been thoroughly washed, he leads me to stand in a shallow spot where the water crests just above my ankles. Then Vastian steps forward, a vial in hand. He uncorks it and dips two fingers in, pressing them to the hollow of my throat. The oil is warm and fragrant, a blend of lavender and something deeper—myrrh, maybe—something ancient. He smooths it over my skin, tracing the path of my pulse with purpose.

The ends glimmered faintly under the dim light, like tiny pieces of gold caught in my palm. “I didn’t think I’d get you this soon,” I whispered. Then I opened the small glass bottle. Inside was a clear liquid with a faint scent a mixture of essential oils taught to me by someone I once called my mentor. Someone who understood how influence worked in its most delicate form. I slipped the two strands of hair inside. Something within the bottle stirred, as if the hair were melting seamlessly into the liquid. I touched the surface of the glass, watching light bend through it, making the contents look like they pulsed slowly.

Voila: you have yourself new hair! I poured the liquids into the bottle and closed it. I gave it a good shake. The bottle was transparent and when I thought, it was ready, I put on the disposable gloves that were given with the pack and poured the liquid directly onto my hair. Put the bottle aside and went on with my hands and mixed it in. I repeated as necessary. Now I had to wait for thirty minutes. I tied my hair up and waited. I looked at my watch for the time occasionally, since it was really boring.