Authors: Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
“Look how excited you are, how needy. I love to watch you wanting me. Let's see whether we can watch together.” O'Malley crossed to a closet and, from inside, said, “Have you ever been on TV?”
“What?” Fran asked.
“TV. Have you ever seen yourself on TV?”
Puzzled she replied, “I've seen demos in the local Radio Shack.”
His chuckle was warm and filled with genuine good humor. “That's not what I mean at all.” He emerged from the closet, then fussed behind the TV set that sat on the bureau. Finally he stood up. “We're ready.”
He was holding a video camera. He pushed a button and suddenly Fran's body filled the screen of the TV. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Look at yourself, and how helpless you are. Look at your arms, tied to the head of the bed, unable to get free.” The picture zoomed in on the strips of soft velvet that imprisoned her wrists. “Look at how powerless you are, love.”
Fran just stared, unable to tear her eyes from the screen. As the camera slowly panned down, Fran gazed at her breasts, then her belly and her cunt. Slowly, the picture traveled down her legs and zoomed in on the bindings that held them widely spread.
O'Malley placed the camera on a bracket on the wall at one side of the bed and aimed it at Fran's chest. The view of her breasts, with their erect nipples, filled the screen. “Now, I'm free to play with your luscious body.” He opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled out a box, which he opened very slowly. Inside were two odd-shaped pieces of flexible flesh-colored plastic. “I'm sure you have no idea what these are, so I'll explain. Contrary to the stories I've read, I've never found a pair of nipple clamps that don't
really
hurt, and I don't think pain adds anything to this experience for you, yet. I did, however, find these in a small store in the Village. They're suckers.”
He bent down and licked Fran's nipple, wetting the entire dusky area. Then he squeezed one of the plastic devices and pressed it against Fran's tit. The sensation was like a pulling, a sucking, a constant awareness of her breast.
“You see why they are called that, I'm sure. Maddening little devils, aren't they?”
Fran remained silent as he laved her other nipple and attached a sucker to it. “Look at them on the TV,” he said, picking up the camera and moving it to her face. “See how your face gets flushed? They really make you hot, don't they?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Actually this entire situation makes you hotter than you've ever been, doesn't it?”
She had to admit that it did. “Yes.”
His laugh was powerful and deeply erotic. “It's difficult for you to admit that you're so, excited by being tied up, completely helpless, with suckers on your tits and a camera recording every expression. But it makes you crazy, doesn't it?” When Fran remained silent, he lifted one of the suckers so it pulled more firmly on her nipple. “Admit it. You're really enjoying this. Be honest with yourself.”
He was right. “Oh yes. I am enjoying it.”
Again the camera roamed her body, zooming in and panning back. Then O'Malley placed the camera on another bracket so it was aimed at her pussy, so visible between her widely spread legs. He got another box from the drawer and from it he lifted a pencil-thin dildo. “This will do nicely for our next step,” he said. “You know what this is, of course.”
Fran's gaze darted between the dildo and the view of her wide-open cunt on the TV. “And it excites you still more. Look at how your pussy is getting wet,” O'Malley said. “As you think about this little beauty sliding into your beautiful cunt, you can't help but get wetter.” He walked to the camera and pressed the zoom button. Now Fran's pussy filled the screen, the lips swollen, wet and glistening.
“Oh my God,” she moaned.
O'Malley sat on the side of the bed and, as Fran watched the TV screen, he moved the dildo closer to her pussy. She saw him touch her hot flesh as she felt the cold plastic almost sizzle against her. The feeling was doubled as she both watched and felt the dildo. “Now, my love, watch it slide into your beautiful pussy.”
He slipped just the end of the flesh-colored plastic penis into her. She couldn't stop her hips from reaching for more of it. “Anxious little girl, aren't you?” He slid it in another half inch. “Is this what you want?”
“More,” she whispered.
“Ask me.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Oh God,” she said, “please fill me with that.”
“You ask so nicely.” He slid it in another half inch, leaving half of the dildo still outside of her hungry pussy.
“Don't tease,” she begged, gazing into his eyes.
“Tease?” he said with mock innocence.
“Please.”
With one quick stroke he rammed it home. “Watch me fuck you,” he said, and Fran's eyes returned to the TV screen. She saw his hand driving the dildo into her, then pulling it back. Her hips bucked and her back arched, but, even with the suckers on her breasts and the dildo fucking her, somehow it wasn't enough.
“I know,” he crooned. “You want something more.”
“I want your cock.”
“No, actually you want any cock. You want to be filled.” He left the dildo inside her channel, and reached into the drawer again. He pulled out a ten-inch-long dildo, as thick around as Fran's wrist. “You want my monster.”
“That won't fit,” Fran protested.
“Oh, but it will,” O'Malley said. “You'd be amazed. And you'll eagerly watch as all of it disappears into you.”
Fran threw her head back and closed her eyes.
“No. Don't do that. Watch your pussy on TV. Watch what I'm doing.”
Fran opened her eyes and looked at the screen. She saw and felt him remove the slender dildo and push the larger one against her opening. She knew it would never fit but relentlessly he pushed and slowly it stretched her wet channel. It pressed against all of her, touching everywhere at once. She trembled with the need of it, the fullness, the hunger, the possession of her body by this enormous cock.
“Now watch as you come,” O'Malley said. He withdrew the cock, then inserted it again. Over and over, more and more rapidly he fucked her with the dildo, then he placed his fingertip on her clit and rubbed. “Come for me, baby,” he said. She screamed as she came, spasms stabbing through her entire body. She writhed as much as her bindings would permit, driving her hips upward to meet the thrusts of the dildo. She was out of control, unable and unwilling to stop the waves crashing over her.
It was long minutes before O'Malley removed the dildo and the suckers, and untied her. He quickly undressed and lay on the bed beside her, then slowly unrolled a condom over his cock, which stood straight up from his groin. “Ride me.” He had positioned his body so the camera was now directed at his cock as Fran straddled him and slowly lowered her wide-open dripping cunt onto his rigid erection.
He grabbed her waist and, using his hands and hips, found his rhythm and drove into her. Only a few thrusts were needed for him to climax and throughout they both watched the scene on the TV.
When he was calm, he lazily sat up and switched off the camera, then covered them both. Fran must have slept because the next thing she remembered was looking at the clock and seeing that it was 1
A.M
.
“Mmm,” O'Malley purred. “That was as wonderful as I knew it would be.”
“It was amazing,” Fran admitted.
“May I confess something to you, Nicki?” he asked.
“Of course,” Fran said.
“I didn't have a business dinner this evening. I just didn't want to spend several frustrating hours in a restaurant. All I could think about was being in here with you.”
“Why so late? I could have been here at seven.”
“But I needed to let you think I had plans and anyway, I enjoyed just sitting here and imagining what it would be like. And it turned out to be better than any of my imaginings.”
Fran wasn't sure that she liked being manipulated, but the sex had been explosive. “I've really got to be getting home,” she said, for want of other conversation.
“Of course,” he said, rising and handing her her clothes. “I'll take you.”
“No need.”
“No need, but I want to.”
They dressed in silence and, when they were ready to leave, he ejected the tape from the VCR. “This is a record of this evening. I know it would upset you if you realized that there was a visual record lying around, and I thought you might be brave some evening, and watch it.”
Fran took the tape, holding it as though it might explode at any minute. Would she ever watch it?
As the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her building, he kissed her. “I'll call you,” he said.
Fran nodded, then got out of the cab and entered her building.
Fran undressed and put on an old tee shirt and leggings. Keyed up from the evening and rested from her nap, she turned on her laptop.
Power, she thought. It was a seductive tool. She began to type.
POWER
by Nichole St. Michelle
I don't know when I discovered I had this quirky power but I do remember using it on my second grade teacher. Okay, let me explain. You know how some people can wiggle their ears? Well I can't and I've no clue what muscles to use to try to do it. Well, I can send these pulses that seem to force the person at whom the pulse is directed to tell the truth. I can't control anyone or make someone do stuff, although you can be sure I've tried.
I remember my second grade teacher. Miss Gilbert was her name and she was a thoroughly nasty woman with a pinched face and a sour expression. One day she yelled at me for not being able to do some arithmetic problem or other on the board. Arithmetic was always my Achilles' heel. So she screamed at me, called me a moron who would never learn anything, and read me out in front of the whole class.
Well I was a mess. I wanted to run home, hide under my bed and never come out. But several of my friends told me just forget it. That she was a flaming bitch and didn't deserve to triumph by driving me out. They were right, so I stayed.
A few days later there was a fire drill and we all lined up outside. Miss Gilbert suddenly remembered that she had left her roll book inside, a cardinal sin since without it, if the fire were real, she wouldn't know which students were actually present that day and who might need to be rescued. So she told one of the other boys to sneak inside and get it. She had it in her hand when the principal arrived to check out the results of the drill.
“Glad to see you're prepared,” he said to her as we all stood around in the cold.
“Oh, yes sir,” she said, brandishing her book. Well, I sent this pulse. She stuttered and said, “W-w-well, actually I left it on my desk. I sent Carlos back inside to get it. And truthfully these fire drills are a gigantic waste of time.” I remember how puzzled she was that she had actually said that, but I knew the reason, and I giggled.
That was the first time I remember using it, but I've pulsed folks many times since. It really helps in the business world and I've made lots of lucrative deals based on just pulsing the other guy so he tells the truth.
But it works best with women. Now, I'm not a particularly attractive man. I'm twenty-seven, with sharp features and hair that kind of looks like used packing twineâyou know, kind of light brownish and frazzley. But I'm charming, and modest, and I have several girlfriends at present. And this ability I have makes me a very desirable person, since I'm a very talented lover, with the help of my power. I'm not being egotistical when I say that after an evening with me, women are spoiled for other men.
Let me tell you about last evening. I had met this woman at work several weeks ago and we had been having lunch once or twice a week ever since. Amanda is pretty, I guess, with soft brown eyes and long straight brown hair, but being pretty doesn't really impress me much. What I like about her was that she is a wonderful person, warm, interested in most of the things I enjoy, and she has a great sense of humor.
So finally I asked her out for a real date. We had dinner and talked, then went to a movie. I held her hand in the theater and then, as we walked home, I smiled at her delightful shyness. She kept looking at her feet as we walked, stuttering each time I asked something the least bit personal. I didn't pulse her, though. Everything in its own time.
On the elevator in her building I put my hands on her shoulders and kissed her. It was a wonderful kiss, with my lips moving over hers. She tasted delicious. I held her and reveled in her trembling. My cock was swelling. I wanted her. Very much. I wanted to slowly remove all her clothes and kiss and lick her all over. I wantedâ¦Actually I wanted to know what
she
wanted so I could give her the best sex she'd ever had.
“I'd like to come in for a little while,” I said when we got to her door.
She blushed. “Well, I have to get up early tomorrow morning. You know, work and stuff.”
“But I don't want the evening to end so soon.” I kissed her again. It was a warm evening so neither of us were wearing jackets, so I could easily slide my hands along her ribs until I could just brush the underside of her full breasts. She shivered and I could feel her nipples hardening against my chest.
“But, you know, this is only our first date,” she said.
As I nibbled on her left ear I pulsed her.
“I guess I'd really like it if you came inside,” she said.
I kissed her again so she wouldn't be too confused at having told the truth. In the throes of passion most women have no clue what they're saying anyway.
I knew from our conversations that she lived alone, with only a cat and a parakeet for company. With any luck at all, I would keep her company that night. We wandered into her kitchen and, with trembling hands, she poured us each a soft drink. Alcohol confuses my abilities.
Back in the living room, we sat side by side on the sofa. I turned her to me and brushed her lips with mine, teasing, tasting, nibbling. I placed a line of tiny kisses from her mouth along her jaw to that wonderfully sensitive spot beneath her ear. Then I nipped at the tendon and worked down to the place where her neck joined her shoulder.
Her hands had been resting passively on my chest so I took her wrists and drew her arms around me. I tangled my fingers in her long hair and pulled her head back so I could continue kissing her throat. Then my lips traveled down to the wonderfully mysterious shadow between her breasts. When my face was buried deeply in her cleavage, she started to push me away.
“This is a bit too fast for me,” she said, breathless and flushed.
I pulsed her.
“But it feels so good. I don't really want you to stop.”
I didn't. My hands slid to the front of her ribs and then upwards until I was cupping her breasts. Her arms became limp and she almost swooned against the back of the couch. I gazed at her and my heart pounded. Suddenly my head was filled with images of me ravishing her, dragging her clothes off and plunging my now-throbbing dick into her pussy. I shook my head. No. Slowly. I had to move slowly. Control yourself, I told my aching body.
I caressed her breasts, then rubbed her nipples. Again she grabbed my forearms. “We really shouldn't,” she moaned.
I pulsed her and asked, “Are you a virgin?” I would have to really be careful if she was.
“Oh no,” she said. “I've made love before.”
“Do you like it when I touch you?” I asked, continuing the pulse.
“Oh God, your hands feel so good. Please don't stop what you're doing.”
I didn't. As I kneaded her cloth-covered breasts I had the mental picture of my hands ripping off her blouse and bra so I could feel the softness of her skin. Exerting all the mental control I could, I slowly unbuttoned her shirt and removed it and her bra. Her breasts were magnificent, full and round, with pink nipples that begged for my mouth. I suckled, feeling the tips swell still more under the ministrations of my tongue. I moved from one to another, licking, sucking and then blowing on her wet skin. Soon she grabbed my shoulders, holding me close.
Still laving her nipples, I placed one hand on her nylon-covered thigh and slid it upward toward her heat. I was anticipating having to deal with panty hose, but I found a stocking top and inches of bare skin above. The picture of my fingers plunging into her cunt formed in my mind but I forced myself to be patient. I caressed the soaked crotch of her panties, then worked my fingers beneath the side elastic. She was so wet that, as I rubbed, it was almost impossible to keep from sliding into her.
Naked. We had to be naked. Now! I quickly pulled off my shirt, slacks, shoes, socks and underwear. When I looked back at Amanda her shyness seemed to have vanished and she was also undressed. God, she was so gorgeous. So hot. So magnetic. She almost drew me to her. I knelt beside the sofa and spread her thighs. I buried my face in her hot, wet pussy and licked. I wanted her to enjoy it all. I flicked my tongue over her clit. “Does that feel good?” I asked, pulsing her at the same time.
“Oh yes. Lick just like that. And put your fingers into me too.”
I did as she wanted, driving first two then three fingers deep into her channel. I finger-fucked her hard while my tongue did its work. Soon I felt her spasms begin, but she pushed me away. I pulsed her. “I want you inside of me when I come,” she said.
I had to be inside of her. My cock was so hard it almost hurt and only her pussy could relieve the pain. I climbed onto the sofa and knelt between her spread thighs. “Would you touch me?” I asked, not knowing exactly where that request had come from.
She wrapped her hand around my marble-hard dick and squeezed. Then she placed the tip of my cock against her opening and I rammed it home. I wanted to be patient, to make it last for her, but I was incoherent with lust. I pounded my cock into her slick passage over and over. I reached between us and rubbed her clit until I felt the spasms return to her pussy. The clenching of her internal muscles was too much and, with two more deep thrusts, I came. As I did, she screamed, her orgasm joining mine in a frenzy of lust.
It was several minutes before I was sane enough to speak. “I hope that was as good for you as it was for me,” I said.
“Oh yes, it was.” She was silent for a moment, then said, softly, “It always is.”
“Always is what?” I asked.
“It always is good. I make it that way.”
I was a bit taken aback. I was used to gushing praise for my prowess as a lover. She seemed to take it all for granted. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, I seem to be able to put lustful thoughts into a guy's mind. It's like I can push thoughts of fucking and need into a man. Like when you asked me to hold your cock. I put that thought there. Once I've put in a few ideas, I just let nature take its course and it's always great.”
“But you said no? I thought you didn't want to at first.”
“I always do that, but I know I don't have to worry about the guy leaving. I just push such lustful thoughts into his mind that he wouldn't even consider going home.”
“You push thoughts?”
“It's hard for someone who can't do it to understand. Actually you were more difficult to urge on. You wanted to go slowly even when I was in a hurry. But don't get me wrong, it was great.”
I was flabbergasted. She had been pushing thoughts into my mind as I had been pulsing hers. I thought about her responses. Her body was in a hurry but her mind was enjoying the slightly slower trip. “I was pulsing you, too,” I admitted.
“I was making you tell me exactly how you wanted to proceed.”
“You were? Is that why I told you I wanted you to fingerfuck me?”
“Yes.”
She snuggled more deeply into my arms. “Wow. Wow.”
I wanted to think more about the implications of all this, but I was too sleepy. So together we fell asleep on the sofa. As I dropped off, all I could think about was what I wanted to do with Amanda when I awoke.