Centurions: Sex Mage Sojourn

ONE

“Just a simple stake out, you said! Oh, this should be wrapped up in five minutes, you said! Why did you have to jinx it?!” Shockwave glared at his teammates. All around them, a swarm of robots continued to pour from every nook and cranny of the warehouse, where what was supposed to be a simple drug sale bust had evolved into a superhero versus robot cluster fuck. And not the fun kind.

Max Out rolled his eyes as he socked another robot hard enough to knock the five behind it aside like bowling pins. “Says the guy who jumped the gun and decided he couldn’t wait two more minutes for everyone to get into position.” With a burst of super speed, he dismantled a dozen more.

“How was I supposed to know this place was a storage facility for the Robot Master’s old clunkers?” Shockwave held out his hands and fired a wide beam of pure force to plow through another wave of robots. The humanoid machines struggled to get back up, apparently heedless of the fact that half their bodies were currently bent out of shape, and a few were missing limbs. Like zombies, they continued to march toward the superheroes in their midst with no care to their own safety; their broken and worn-down parts protested this activity with loud, metallic shrieks and sparks, but the robots heedlessly advanced forward.

“This is getting us no where,” said Growl, his weretiger form looming over his teammates as he hurled two more robots into the oncoming horde. The three men backed up forming a circle as the robots made an ever-tightening ring around them.

“Agreed,” said Max Out. He scanned the horde to see where the thinnest part appeared to be. Then he shifted his internal energies to “max out” his durability. “Growl! Pick me up and start charging that way! Shockwave, follow in our wake and keep the path from closing up!”

Resisting

As his Master instructed, Max waited in the locker room after practice, until the dojo was closed. When he felt a slight tingle across his balls, that was his Master’s signal that he should come back out onto the floor, naked.

Max did so, not hesitating as he strode out onto the matt, where his Master waited. She, however, was still dressed in her gi. What Max did not expect was a couple other women to be present, watching from the stands. Two of them were fellow students, while the other was another instructor.

Max swallowed, feeling a touch of nervousness. “Master,” he said. “I was to understand this would be a private lesson.”

“The lesson, Maxwell, is to learn to focus despite distraction, particularly of this nature,” she said.

“But…”

“If you came in knowing exactly what to expect and prepared to tune it out, it would not be an adequate distraction. Understand, I don’t wish to embarrass you, but facing your embarrassment is going to be part of this. It is, after all, a key factor of your arousal.”

On Sequels and Continuations

Sometimes, I get comments and e-mails from readers asking me if I plan on doing a sequel to a story, or if I’m going to continue a story. Unfortunately, the chances of anything I've written seeing a genuine sequel or a continuation are pretty slim. I apologize if this disappoints some fans of my work. I’m not against the idea of sequels or continuations, and in fact, I’ve actually tried doing some, which usually results in failure, hence they don’t get posted. There’s several reasons for this.

1) I am constantly coming up with new ideas, and I very quickly get bored with reusing the same material over and over. Frankly a lot of my ideas use the same one or two story formulas, and most of the sex tends to be pretty much the same stuff over and over, so I’m especially susceptible to getting burnt out on stuff.

This is why I keep trying to tackle different situations, settings, genres, etc, with each new major story. I want to keep trying new formulas and combinations of elements to keep things interesting and fresh. Unfortunately, revisiting the same characters tends to lead to stagnation of the concept.

2) Very often, everything I set out to say or do with a character ends up getting done in a single story, which is to say, the character becomes “finished” in my mind. If the conflict that drove the story gets resolved, and I don’t see any more seeds of conflict, I just really don’t have anything left to say.

For example, the main conflict in Kat’s First Boytoy is Kat deciding whether or not she’s really going to use her powers to seduce and sexually dominate Ben, as well as convincing Ben to submit to her once she does decide to go for it. This all wrapped up by the end of the story, and thus the conflict is over. After that point, the only thing left for me to write about would just be more sex scenes involving the two, but I feel that would be just be stale.

Of course, I could introduce a new conflict, but the only thing I’ve ever come up with as a legitimate Kat sequel ends up coming off as a repeat of the Violet vs. Sarah story, and well, I already mentioned my issue with repeating myself too much.

3) Very often, the sequel ideas I get end up being pretty much not erotic at all, which, well, kind of defeat’s the whole purpose. Either the stories end up being all about the psychological consequences of being victimized by abusive Sex Mages (which can lead to horribly dark territory I don’t even want to get into regardless), or it ends up being more about the superhero/adventure action than anything else. If the sex is an after thought, than it’s not an erotica. And I presume that when you want me to write a sequel to an erotic story, you plan on that sequel also being erotic, not a psychological horror piece or a schlocky action story.

To correlate with this, sometimes making an erotic sequel just really doesn’t make any sense in terms of the established character. For example, some people want to see a story where Sarah breaks out of prison, tracks down Dough and Violet, and gets her revenge by turning them both into her sex slaves. Yeah… no. If Sarah ever did break out? She’s not going to turn them into her sex slaves. She is going to outright murder them. The thing about Sarah is that it was never really about the sex; sex was just the medium through which her magic worked. It was all about the power. Sure she enjoyed sex, but it was never a motivation, it was a weapon for her to use to control people, and in the case of Doug, it was her means of gaining more power for herself. Violet and Doug defeated her and stole her power; ergo they deserve to die in Sarah’s eyes.

Similarly, Feel Girl isn’t motivated by sex either. She’s motivated by the thrill of being a supervillain. Sex is her weapon, shield, and means of controlling others, but you better believe that if, given the opportunity to switch her powerset to something much more directly destructive or controlling, she would switch to that in a heartbeat. Ergo, a sequel involving her, more than likely, would mean joining or forming a team of supervillains who would more than likely be immune to her power, and using their resources to advance her supervillain “career.” She would not, as was once suggested to me, go buy an island and build a mansion where she could be waited on hand and foot by men she cockteases into serving her.

4) I started writing a story, but for some reason, it completely crapped out on me, and I couldn’t come up with any way to continue it that didn’t either feel forced, stupid, or contradictory. Or, I just plain ran out of ideas. Unfortunately, sometimes, this happens after I have already posted part of the story, and I end up left with a dud that isn’t finished. These days I try not to post things too soon, and if I do make that mistake, I try to cap off what I’ve already written as much as best as possible, with varying success. Unfortunately, stories like this, such as Sandy the Psychic Cougar, The Erotic Misadventures of Jamin Frey: The Golden Hook, and Centurions: Curse of the Druj, just aren’t going to get finished. I ran into a wall or a gaping canyon, and I’m just not going to be able to get past it unless I do the whole thing over from scratch.

And yes, I did finally manage to do that with one of them, a rewrite of Sandy, set in the Sex Mage World. Unfortunately, even that one crapped out on me at the end, resulting in a sloppily written conclusion, and even getting that far was like pulling teeth trying to get it out. It’s not an experience I wish to repeat, so even a remake is unlikely to occur for the other stories.

5) Specifically in regards to the Just A Little Scenes: These are not, and never were, intended to be full stories in the first place. Most JALS are just scenes I came up with that I couldn’t manage to expand into a bigger story, so I just capped off the scene at the ends to try and make it more self-contained. Occasionally, I’ve taken a scene from a failed story I only partially managed to write, and decided to cap it off and make it a JALS as well. As such, JALS by their very nature aren’t really meant to continue. I tried it once, with the You My Goddess sub-series, but well, personally I think that while the first one is one of the best erotica/porn I’ve ever written, the sequels felt flat and forced to me.

However, it is true that some JALS can lead to bigger story ideas. Violet and Sarah, for example, started off as JALS characters, who were reimagined in the Violet vs. Sarah story, and a few JALS served as prototypes for the Sex Mage World setting, so in that sense, the JALS do lead to other things.

6) Heck, if nothing else, I also just plain can’t stand it when a story doesn’t know when to end, and sometimes, the best way to end a story is to tease the readers imagination so that they can draw there own conclusion as to what further sexual adventures the characters might have. Again, if the conflict is already established and resolved, and all that’s really left is for the characters to just keep having sex on a frequent basis, well, I know I can’t please everybody, and my own tastes tend not to jive with a lot of other people’s preferences. Ergo, after showing you the sorts of things a dominant psychic woman can do to her non-powered male sub, in some ways, it’s better to leave it to the readers imagination where that can go from there, rather than just dragging them through scene after scene of sex, sex, and more sex, that will ultimately just grow stale.

Metis Academy: Tim's Day

NOTE: This story takes place in the Sex Mage World, several years since the appearance of Sex Magic. Sex Magic is truly beginning to take hold as an aspect of society women and men should fully embrace. Colleges and private High Schools, once single-gender exclusive since the appearance of Sex Magic, are shifting back to co-ed status. Society is truly Female Dominant now, and boys and girls are raised and trained accordingly.

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are ages 18 and up.

ONE

Tim tossed and turned in his sleep, slowly rousing as his rock hard cock twitched and clenched, forcing unconscious moans from his lips. His hips jerked as his body instinctively tried fuck something to relieve the desire building in his cock. As he started to gain consciousness, he became aware of the sensation of feathers lightly stroking up and down his cock, tickling the head and balls. His eyes snapped open and he lurched, turning onto his back, his cock bouncing as he tried to fuck the air for a few moments, caught up in the sensations.

“F-fuck!” Tim muttered. “I’m up! I’m up!” For a moment, he thought he’d gone unheard, as the sensations continued to tease him. But then, they lessened, and finally pulled away, leaving Tim panting on the bed, his balls aching. He wished, more than anything, that he could reach down to stroke himself, but he could not. Then he wished he could beg for the sensations to keep going until he popped, but he knew that would be pointless. With a groan, he staggered out of bed, his cock stubbornly wagging before him.

As soon as he was on his feet, an invisible hand clasped around his cock. The grip was gentle, but firm, and Tim knew better than to try and resist its pull. He immediately followed it, the hand reeling him in like a fish towards the door. He stepped out into the hall, and joined the other boys of the dorm as they stood at attention, naked and hard for the Head Mistress and the Dorm staff to inspect.

Just A Little Scene: Cruel Neighbor

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.

Just A Little Scene: A Thief's Tale

I’d been stealing to live pretty much since I was an orphaned girl on the street. Now, at the age of 21, I’d had Sex Magic for two years, and simple stealing was as easy as giving a guy a boner and convincing him he owed me a couple hundred dollars if he ever wanted to cum again. Once I’d gotten enough “seed money” and used a bit of influence, I was able to get a real job and a place to live. Nothing too fancy, but enough to get buy and try to live legitimately.

Only that didn’t work out as well as I’d thought. I still had the itch, the thrill of trying to steal. So I took to becoming a cat burglar, breaking into homes as stealthily as possible, and stealing something like a cheap novelty item or whatever. I’d usually come back and toss the item in their yard a week or two later.

Was I tempting fate? You bet your sweet ass I was. It wouldn’t be such a thrill otherwise. I know, I got problems. Maybe one day, I’ll get a therapist. For now though, I’m young and reckless, and fuck you, I’ll do what I want.

But you aren’t here to listen to my life story, are you, you pervert? I can see it in your head and in your pants, you just want the spicy details I promised about that one adventure. Right, right, for your “blog on exciting Sex Magic stories.” Honestly, you men. You’re all a bunch of weirdos.

Cruel Nurse

You’ve been in an accident that has left you half-paralyzed. You can’t really move, but you are on the mend. It’s just going to take a long while. You do have feeling in certain parts, however. In fact, it would seem your genitals are all the more sensitive, though this may have something to do with not having been able to touch yourself or release for three months. All you get down there are a few tender sponge baths, and we aren’t exactly allowed to take it further. At least not until I come on staff.

I’m apparently either exactly your type in the looks department, or you’re just so pent up any woman will do. Perhaps a combination of both. You get an erection every time I walk in the door, and today, it doesn’t seem to want to quit. I give you a small frown. “What’s this about, then?” I say.