Lindsay sighed as she approached her house. She could sense Paul’s extreme arousal all the way from her office, three miles away, the hum of his diamond-hard penis thrumming in her mind, louder and louder as she drove home. She walked up the steps with a deliberately slow pace, and took her time fishing her keys out of her purse. She pursed her lips as she opened the door, and saw her husband writhing naked on the floor, gasping and whimpering, his hard penis jerking repeatedly in the air. She was surprised he wasn’t humping the floor, horny as she was, but then, she remembered the no-masturbation spell she’d put on him prohibited humping attempts.
She closed the door a little louder than normal, getting Paul’s attention. He looked up at her wide eyed for a moment, starting to sit up, before a bolt of pleasure made him cry out, and knocked him on his back again, his hips thrusting into the air. He was drenched in his own pre-cum, and Lindsay watched a thread of the clear, thick fluid fling itself from his cock to land on the puddle on his stomach.
She let out an exasperated huff, dropped her purse on the nearest chair, and walked up to her husband, hands on hips, looking down at him with a scolding expression. Paul was shaking and gasping and reached out to clutch at her calf.
“Having fun down there?” she said, in an annoyed voice.
“Lindsay… baby… please…”
“Please… make it stop…”
“I’m not doing it to you. This is some other woman, pleasuring you behind my back. Who is it?”
Paul’s expression scrunched to one of helplessness. “I don’t know! Please! I don’t know!” Tears welled up in his eyes, and she could see his hands shaking, fighting to clutch himself, and unable to from her restrictive magic.
Lindsay crossed her arms. “Really? So you’re saying some random woman just randomly started teasing your cock for no reason?”
”YES! No! I don’t know!” Paul gasped. “I don’t know who it is! But I--!”
Paul groaned, gritting his teeth. Lindsay could sense every nerve ending in his penis was being stimulated at once, a combination of feathers, tongues, and slick hands playing with him, driving him to the edge of orgasm over and over and over, but refusing to let him cum. Of course, her own orgasm block probably helped with that last part.
“Lindsay, come on! You know I can’t help it! The magic, it’s too strong! And any woman could be doing it!”
Lindsay frowned, shook her head in irritation, and stalked off, leaving him writhing. He started to beg some more, and she flicked a finger at him. His mouth clamped shut and he couldn’t speak.
It was half an hour later, after Lindsay had changed into casual clothes, gotten some water, and made herself comfortable on the couch, that the magic assaulting Paul finally ceased. The man lay in a sweaty, pre-cum covered, boneless sprawl. It took him several minutes to get the wits and strength back to stagger to his feet. He looked to Lindsay and tried to open his mouth to say something. Lindsay flicked her finger again, and his mouth was freed.
“What the fuck was that?” he said.
“I’m getting tired of bailing you out,” Lindsay replied, looking back at the TV. “If you don’t like it, stop doing whatever it is your doing to antagonize women into teasing you.”
Paul took a step forward, and his still stubbornly hard, red cock bounced. A thread of pre-cum began to drip. Lindsay glanced at it, and gave him a hard look. “Don’t drip on my carpet.”
Paul, who had looked like he was about to chew her out, jumped as he felt a sharp jolt on his cock. He held a cupped hand down below his penis head to catch the pre-cum thread, as close as he could manage to get to his penis, still several inches away.
“Christ, Paul, go fucking shower first,” she said pointing to the stairs. “You’re fucking filthy with your own slime.”
Paul’s jaw worked, and he opened his mouth, then shut it again. She was about to jolt his penis again, but then he turned and started trudging upstairs. She did it anyway, and watched him stumble onto the steps, panicking for a second as he tried desperately to make sure his pre-cum didn’t touch the floor.
“And don’t get dressed,” she called after him, once he was out of sight. She shook her head and continued to watch the TV. A game show of sorts, where women tried to guess words and phrases that men were reading on index cards, by reading the men’s thoughts through their cocks, and the men tried their best to confuse the women, by thinking a jumble of non-sexual thoughts while they were reading. More often than not, the women figured them out rather quickly, no doubt using a few psychic teases to coax the answers out of the men’s minds.
Paul came downstairs a few minutes later, nude, his hair damp. His cock was still rock hard, twitching occasionally, but the color had faded to a less angry shade of red. He looked grumpy as he sat down next to Lindsay on the couch. Lindsay feigned ignoring him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Several times Paul glanced at her, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. His cock twitched now and then, still stubbornly refusing to go soft after so many edges, as if demanding she do something about it.
Lindsay suppressed a sigh. Men and cocks. So needy. Sure, their frustration fueled women’s sexual magic, but the constant neediness could get grating after a while. Paul opened his mouth, then shut it again for the dozenth time, and Lindsay finally turned to him, giving him a flat look. “What?”
Paul swallowed, uncertain he should speak. Lindsay didn’t bother reading his mind, content to let him wrestle with himself to voice his thoughts. She remembered when they were first going out, how bold and assertive Paul had been. Unafraid to say what he wanted, even as a girl had him on his knees, shaking and burning for relief. Twenty years of Sex Magic, however, had blunted his assertiveness quite a bit. The same went for almost all men, really.
“I just…” Paul began, then hesitated again.
“Spit it out.”
“You just… I…” Paul was almost shaking as he tried to force himself to find the words.
Lindsay turned back to the TV and gave him several minutes to attempt to articulate his thoughts. She listened to the psychic thrum of his cock, the buzzing of his full balls, rise and fall as his fear almost started to ease his sexual tension, only for his lust-drenched thoughts to make the tension surge again.
Ten years ago, Paul would have been on his feet, standing firm, jaw set, as he gave her a piece of his mind, talking her down from tormenting him, demanding she respect him and his needs. And while she might have tried to seduce him into submission, seeing him stand strong would send a tingle through her pussy. Such “arguments” usually ended with him shooting his load down her throat or deep into her pussy. She felt that tingle now, just thinking about it.
But it had been quite a long time since then. Passionate love making, surrendering to his power, had gradually given way to more and more pity fucks, until that was all it was anymore. She barely allowed him to cum at all, never let him touch himself. A part of her wanted to pity him. There really was no way a man could help it. They couldn’t stop the magic, they had no way of resisting. It really wasn’t their fault. And yet, seeing her husband reduced to a simpering toady sex toy by her mere thoughts, there was just no denying how turned off she felt.
Such a cruel irony, really. The more helpless horny and worshipful he became of her, the less interested she became. But just telling him that, somehow, would be worse. He’d be faking it just to try and please her. It wouldn’t be the genuine dominance he used to have, that sheer male power that had made her weak in the knees and obsessed with his cock. By the time she realized the tables were flipped, however, it was too late to fix.
Come on, she thought. Stand up for yourself. Give me one inkling that you still have a spine left, and I’ll suck the cum out of your cock until you don’t have a single drop left. She felt the tingle between her legs grow, and she flexed her thighs. Come on. Yell at me. Try to hit me. Try something, you gutless little shit.
Paul swallowed hard again and set his jaw. Lindsay felt the tingle in her core, waiting for him to give her what she wanted, what she realized she needed. What they both needed.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Paul said meekly.
Lindsay felt the tingle immediately go still, felt the moist heat between her legs dry up almost instantly. Lindsay glanced at him, her expression cold. She let out an exasperated sigh. Then, with a thought, she channeled her magic at Paul’s penis. Paul cried out as the sensations he’d felt earlier, the feathers and tongues and slick hands, returned to his cock, three times as intense as before. His cock jerked as it went as hard as possible, immediately trying to cum. His balls burned with the need for release she denied him.
Paul whimpered and mewled as he flopped onto the floor, writhing and begging between gasps. Lindsay let out another sigh and stood, clicking off the TV and going up to their bedroom. She left Paul there on the living room floor, helpless, tormented, useless to her, save as a battery for her magic. She would leave him there for the rest of the night. Maybe after a good nights sleep, she’d feel enough sympathy to release him.
Stripping off her clothes and laying on the bed, she let the waves of Paul’s lustful energy imbue her as she reached down and touched herself. She masturbated to memories of Paul dominating her with his powerful, manly bearing, huge cock, and his ability to put her in place. It had been years since he’d been able to do that, but the memories were still sharp and fresh in her mind. She cried out and softly begged Paul for mercy as she took over an hour to tease herself, building herself up to climax, only to back off and let the tingling warmth shiver through her.
When she finally let herself cum, she shrieked Paul’s name. Downstairs, Paul was too far gone in his own sexual torment to notice. Bitterly, Lindsay tripled the intensity of sensations Paul was feeling. She let Paul’s howls and pleas lull her to sleep.