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 what?”
“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--!”
“Don’t yell.”
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.
“Lindsay…”
“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.
Very interesting story, I really like the psychological factor.
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