You’re the new tenant who just moved into the apartment next door. You’ve been there for two weeks now, and apparently, our bedrooms share a wall; every night I go to sleep, I can hear the hum of your cock growing hard, and your balls aching for relief. However, I can sense you aren’t touching yourself; no doubt another woman has you bound in spells to prevent that. I go to sleep smirking, thinking of you lying there with a hard-on, unable to do anything about it. A couple nights I even masturbate listening to your cock whine for attention.
Then I realize I’ve never once sensed any action going on over there. I reach out with my senses and see that you haven’t gotten laid at all for several weeks. You’re apparently single, and your ex left her conditions on you out of spite. Not only that, she made sure none of the women in your social circle would give you any help. Well, then. I see no reason not to have a little fun myself.
The next day, I wait for you to get home, then right as you are unlocking your door, I step out into the hall, wearing only a robe. I walk straight up to you and smile disarmingly. My robe is open just slightly enough for you to see the inner curve of my breast, and your eyes zero in on this. Instantly, the hum picks up between your legs as your cock stiffens.
“Having a hard time?” I say and you blink, taken off guard. Before you can respond, I reach out and grab your crotch straight through your jeans, and I lean forward, kissing you fiercely. I push you through the door into your apartment, and shove you against the wall, still probing your mouth with my tongue. My hand rubs your hardening prick, and combined with the kiss, you become dizzy with the sudden swell of arousal.
You try to hug me, but I use my power, and your limbs snap back, your body pressed flat against the wall. I release you from my kiss, and open up your pants. You breathe heavily, watching as I reveal your throbbing cock, dropping your pants to your ankles. I crouch down and watch it bob in the air, pre-cum already peeking out from the tip. “How long?” I ask.
“Weeks,” you say breathlessly. “My ex—”
“I didn’t ask about her,” I said. I stand back up and gently trace a fingertip along the length of your cock. You shiver at the touch, the first you’ve felt there in some time. Inflamed, your mind opens to me as a cascade of fantasies fly through your head, all the hot and heavy things you want me to do you, or you to do to me. In fact, most of the fantasies are some variation of you throwing me to the ground and fucking me like a piece of meat, or pushing me to my knees and shoving your cock in my mouth. All things your ex used to let you do to her, thinking it would make you happy if she just let you take her. But then, she got tired of it, always fucking only for yourself, never caring much what she got out of it. You couldn’t handle it when she actually spoke up about it, so she left you, hard and helpless. I smile. If I ever meet your ex, I’ll buy her a drink.
I won’t be as nice. I sift through your head to see what I can use, and I notice a secret, shameful fetish tucked away in your subconscious. A little shoe fetish. You indulged in it once, taking your ex’s sneaker out of the closet and sniffing it, masturbating with it when she wasn’t home. You thought you could hide it, but of course, she detected your dirty deed the moment she came home. You idiot men, you still think you can hide those things from us women.
I decide to capitalize on this. I order you to sit on your couch, and you do, unable to resist my command. I lock you in place, and leave the apartment, the door wide open. I come back a moment later with a pair of old sneakers of mine and a couple ties. Your eyes go wide and you shake your head in protest, face red with embarrassment, as I slowly tie one shoe to you face, your nose sticking into the heel. The scent of my feet tickles your nostrils, and I immediately see a huge plume of arousal flare up in your mind. Then, I take the second shoe, and stuff your penis into it. With your tip inside the toe, and your balls in the heel, the fit is a bit too snug, but the tight grip stimulates you just enough that your hips buck against it. You can’t get any friction this way, but just the knowledge that your cock is trapped in my shoe nearly doubles your excitement. Your eyes glaze over with lust as you sit there, succumbing to my footwear.
I can’t help but laugh. You’re going crazy already, and I haven’t even started using my powers on you, other than the restraints. I sit down in a chair opposite you and relax, watching the show. I reach up with a hand and extend one finger. I flick my finger through the air, and as I do, you feel the sensation of a feather tip swipe along your inner thigh, in the nook between your balls and your leg. You jump with a surprised yelp, but you can’t go anywhere. I continue my flicking, and the feather sensation slides along your groin, caressing your balls and your inner thighs, making you shake and groan.
Then I see another shameful kink float to the forefront of you mind. You immediately try to squash it, but I see it plain as day: you can’t help but imagine the feathers slide back a little and up into your ass crack. God, you’re just doing all my work for me.
I take a second finger and hold it up at an angle, flicking it as well. The feather sensations now start up on your sensitive asshole, and you give a small yelp. You buck hard trying to escape the sensation, face bright red with humiliation.
I laugh, dropping my hands, but the feather sensations still tickle you. I get up and sit on the couch next to you, as close as I can get without physically touching. I lean close to your ear and say, “I did this to an old boyfriend in college once. Well, I used my panties instead of my shoes, but same difference. We had a small tiff, and he called me a bitch, so I left him like this, my panties over his face, humping the air like a spazz.” I trace a finger along your cheek and tickle your earlobe, making you shudder. “Wanna know how long I left him that way?” Your wide eyes look at me, fearing the answer. I lean closer, and you can feel my hot breath on your ear and neck. “Days,” I whisper.
I slowly stand up and smile devilishly. I slowly back away and wiggle my fingers at you in a parting wave. You moan loudly, shaking your head. You can barely catch your breath to beg me not to go, but I just laugh at your babbling words, and leave you, returning to my apartment. My pussy is dripping wet, and I grab my phone, calling up a couple “friends with benefits.” I plan on having a long, long day of pleasure as I listen to you suffer; I’ll make sure you can hear out screams of ecstasy. Then, maybe in the morning, I’ll come back and reclaim my shoes.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I’ll be done with you.
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