Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Cruel Wife

Greg had only an hour left at work when he suddenly stiffened. He flushed red with embarrassment as his cock went almost instantly hard. He tried to hunker down in his cubicle, even though he knew that did absolutely nothing to keep his females co-workers from “hearing” his erection. He winced as his cock stiffened even further, becoming almost painfully hard. Letting out a breath, he reached for his cell phone, and answered the call before the first ring could sound.

Without waiting for a greeting, his wife Hannah said, “Come home. Now.”

“I’ve only got an hour left—” he said and winced as he felt five strong phantom fingers grip his testicles and squeeze. He sucked in a breath and grit his teeth. Stupid. He knew better than to even attempt resistance by now.

“You have five minutes. If you’re not in your car, heading home—” The fingers squeezed harder.

“Okay!” he yelped. She hung up, but the phantom hand didn’t slacken, and his cock stayed diamond hard. With shaking hands, he called his bosses office. “M-m-maggie, my wife needs me to—”

“Go ahead, Greg,” his boss said, an amused tone in her voice. “You’re almost done for the day anyway. Just come in early tomorrow… if you can.”

“Th-thank you!” he said. He hastily grabbed his things, shut off his computer, and headed out the door, wincing from the way his cock lewdly tented his pants. But Hannah’s magic prevented him from touching himself, even to adjust. He flushed red as he heard several female giggles as he went. The female guard at the front desk, the one who flirted with him on occasion, gave him a sly smile and a wink. Greg jumped as he felt a hot, wet tongue slide along his shaft, slowly but fiercely. Greg stumbled his way to his car, with her laughter trailing after him.

The tongue left him, but the hand on his balls squeezed harder. The sensation wasn’t too painful yet, but another ounce of pressure, and he’d be on his knees. He tried to go as fast as possible, without speeding, but of course, there was construction on the highway, slowing his return home to a crawl. Desperate, he pulled onto the shoulder and drove down it for a quarter mile to reach the exit ramp so he could take another road. Unfortunately, in his haste, he didn’t notice to cop waiting to snag speeders on the bridge.

Greg cursed as he was forced to pull over as the cop, who was of course female, wrote him a ticket. She smirked as she sensed how loud Greg’s genitals were buzzing. “The wife’s got you on a tight leash, eh?” she said. She handed him the ticket. “Sounds like it’s been about five weeks since you last shot one off?”

Just then, his wife’s psychic hand squeezed again, and his cock stiffened further. He gasped and gripped the steering while tightly. “Six! S-six and a h-h-half!”

“You poor thing,” said the cop, grinning. “Well, in that case, I’ll only sentence you to a week’s further orgasm denial.” She flicked a finger at him, and Greg gasped as he felt some kind of invisible clamp seize him deep inside his loins. The pressure was not painful, but it was a persistent sensation that would not let him forget his sentence.

“Th-thank you officer!” he squeaked.

“Drive safe now,” she said.

Greg made it home fifteen minutes later. The pressure in his genitals was enormous, and he could barely walk straight, gasping with almost every step. He stumbled into the house, and tore off his clothes before collapsing onto his hands and knees. He crawled into the living room.

“Mistress, I’m here! M-mistress?”

His phone rang, and he had to crawl back to it. “Mistress—”

“You’re late,” she said in a cold tone.

“There was t-t-traffic, and I g-got pulled over—AAAAHH!!!” He dropped the phone and shuddered as the pressure in his genitals tripled in intensity.

“I noticed we were out of milk, so I went to get some while I waited. I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, get yourself in position.” She hung up on him.

Greg nodded, and crawled back to the living room, before flopping down onto it. Rolling onto his back, he spread his arms and legs apart until he felt some intangible force lock into place, and he suddenly couldn’t move. He lay there shivering and crying as his genitals throbbed painfully.

And then, the pain began to subside, until he could barely feel it. Instead, he felt a tingling throughout his cock and balls, a prickling sensation that teased his nerves in a strange, irresistible way. It made him want to reach down and stroke himself. However, he could not do that, even if he wasn’t frozen in place. Still catching his breath, Greg squirmed. The sensation of need grew stronger, a slowly rising burn of desire. With every passing minute, he found himself struggling to move, struggling to find someway to touch himself, to relieve the desperate need. His balls ached once again, not from the squeezing, but from over six weeks without release.

It was almost an hour before Hannah finally returned home, bringing in some groceries. She ignored her shivering, moaning husband as she put the food away. When he tried to call out to her, she flicked a finger at him, forcing his mouth shut with magic.

She then went up to their bedroom, where she took her time showering. She didn’t bother dressing after she had dried herself. Before she went back downstairs, she forced Greg’s eyes closed with magic. In all the time he’d known her, Greg had never once seen her naked, save for just a few seconds on their wedding night. That image of her nude body forever haunted him, as did his fruitless hope to see it again someday.

She came down and appraised her agonized husband. Allowing herself to relax, she did not bother reigning in the waves of lust which naturally radiated from her body; she was one of those women who had to consciously hold back her power, lest it drive all the men around her crazy. She wouldn’t have minded, of course, but one had to keep some semblance of control in public. But it meant spending all day as if tensing a muscle constantly. It gave her a short fuse, most days. And Greg, as a result, got to be her little stress relief doll. When she was home, she could just let all that energy flow out, and amuse herself with how her husband suffered exquisitely for her.

She watched as Greg thrashed on the floor, moaning loudly as the waves of lust bombarded him while she was mere inches from his body. She let him speak again, but all he could say was gibberish. She then lifted her leg and reached out, pressing her right foot against his cock.

Greg all but screamed as the mere touch of her flesh to his manhood was like an explosion of pleasure. He instantly shot straight post the point of orgasm and onto to post-orgasm stimulation torment. Her orgasm block held, now reinforced by the cop’s even stronger blocker, ensuring he would not cum no matter what. His body shuddered as it tried to climax, striking the barrier to his release several times a second, but unable to overcome it.

After a minute of this, she came around to his head and kneeled over him. Sitting on his face, she sighed as she felt him desperately squirm to free his mouth and nose from the confines of her ass. Soon, he was lurching, chest heaving, as he became desperate for air almost as much as he need to cum. But she wouldn’t give it to him. The healing power of her magic kept him sustained, so he could not truly suffocate; he was in no actual danger of oxygen deprivation. However, his body still instinctively struggled to breathe, and as she continued to suffocate him, he started to pas out. She would not grant this release either, and forced him to stay conscious.

As she made herself comfortable on his face, she eyed his desperate genitals. His penis and testicles were quite hideously distended now, the entire organ a sickeningly dark shade of purple. Her healing magic would also prevent any actual damage from occurring to his genitals, but for the moment, he was still suffering the symptoms of extreme priapism and being perpetually on the razor thin edge of release.

The sight of his suffering aroused her to point of being entranced. She reached down and touched herself. Using her magic to float slightly to keep herself balance on her husband’s face, she leaned back, brought her legs forward, and trapped his penis between her toes, even as she spread her legs at the knees to brazenly drive the fingers of her right hand into herself, while her left fingers vigorously rubbed her clit. She gasped as she as she quickly rose to a fierce climax, but forced herself to slow down and enjoy the pleasure. She teased herself for nearly thirty minutes, rubbing until she was about to cum, then forcing herself to cool down. As she did, she channeled some of her pleasure directly into his cock, grinding him even harder against the edge of release.

She enjoyed herself this way for the next two hours enjoying a total of five climaxes. Greg, of course, had none. He did, however, create a huge puddle of pre-cum. When she finally raised off his face, resulting in Greg gasping like a fish out of water, she scooped up some his fluids and forced him to lick it off her fingers, along with her own juices.

She released his bonds, letting him curl up into a fetal position, shaking and crying. Only after she went back upstairs, cleaned up, and dressed, did she allow him to open his eyes again. When she came back downstairs and sat on the couch, the destroyed man crawled over to her, curling up at her feet. Feeling warm and fuzzy inside, she smiled and reached down to pet his head. His genitals still ached terribly, but she eased away that ache with every stroke of her hand along his hair. Finally, he calmed down enough to drift into an exhausted sleep.

Unable to help herself, she decided a final bit of mischief was in order. As he slept, she reached into his mind and, through the primitive sexual side of his brain, influenced his subconscious. He began to dream of being in a harem, with dozens of women servicing his cock, letting him cum over and over in their mouths, on their tits, in their pussies and asses, all over their legs. He would dream of this the entire night.

She giggled as she watched his penis twitch in response to the dream. Every make-believe orgasm would serve only to tease his real life genitals, each climax in the dream world resulting in a sharp edging in the waking world. She wondered how many he’d experience? At the rate he was going in his wild wet dream, he’d hit triple digits long before morning.

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