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Christmas Dinner (Part IV)

Continued from Part III

The guests thus attended to, Elden turned his attention to Rosie, who was once again quivering eagerly.

“Now, what to do with these leftovers…” he said.

Rosies eyes fluttered, her legs straining against her bonds, wanting desperately to press together or somehow resolve the cold emptiness between them.

“Now remind me, how long does this concoction take to dissipate if you don’t cum it out?”

Rosie whimpered.

Elden grinned. “Days, isn’t it?”

Rosie shuddered, then reluctantly nodded.

Instead of giving her an answer, Elden brushed his finger through the air and the serving platter spun slowly on his magic.

“You do look quite pretty like this,” Elden said. “All bound and glazed.”

A golden tendril of magic trailed up Rosie’s cheeks, inspiring a shiver and a burst of hope in her heart.

“As much fun as it would be to keep you like this for days,” Elden said, “I do have need of you tomorrow.”

Rosie nodded solemnly, lest her enthusiasm earn her further denial.

“Good. You won’t make any such mistakes tomorrow, will you?”

Rosie emphatically shook her head.

“That’s a good girl. If you did, I’d have to punish you like this again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Rosie’s cheeks flushed red, her legs quivered, then she nodded. Then paused, shook her head. Then nodded.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Elden crooned. “Did you lose track of which way I asked the question?”

Rosie nodded.

“With your brain so muddled, you really will be useless tomorrow. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Rosie shook her head, trying but failing to keep her breathing from quickening, her breasts from heaving.

Elden went and stood by her head, and Rosie turned her eyes up at him. 

He said, “All this attention tonight was really quite the tease, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. 

“You poor thing,” he crooned. “None of them know just how hard you can cum.”

Before Rosie could nod again, a tendril of golden magic traced up from her knee to her hip, and Rosie’s head tipped back against the table.

“Especially with all that magick in your veins. And so, so warmed up…”

More golden tendrils appeared, curling around each of Rosie’s breasts, trailing towards her mouth and her cunt.

She trembled and moaned, no longer able to hold back her pleas.

Elden smiled and the ring gag vanished from Rosie’s mouth. Her eyes widened. “Please, please I need it, I need to cum so bad, please, I-I’ll be so good, I promise, please I need it, please…”

Hot, red, ancient magic flared in Elden’s eyes and a golden tendril surged down Rosie’s throat, muffling her words again. Fiery magic that threatened to melt Elden’s icy calm tingled down his spine, and he took a deep breath and extinguished the flare. He needed to be careful with this one. One more word from her, and she might have unleashed what he had spent centuries carefully containing. Not that it was a bad containing. Perhaps channeled was a better word—guided and shaped how he willed, in the ways that brought him pleasure.

Just as he shaped his magic into the golden tendrils that thickened and probed, filling her throat and her cunt and her ass, squeezing her waist and her breasts, pinching hard at her nipples.

For as much as these guests and her begging had reminded him of when he was king, the cheerful red baubles in the evergreens, which Rosie had so carefully arranged, reminded him that he liked this life far better.

His magics wrung climax after climax out of the little elf who was by far the cleverest apprentice he’d ever had. As Elden pulled her through another climax, he resolved to do a better job of assuring her that he’d not be firing her for something so silly as mixing up bottles.

Perhaps it was that she was a young fae, and so overly afraid of mischief. The Convention was to blame for that, and Elden was happy to pay more than a few fines in order to teach Rosie what fae life really was. She was well on her way. In fact—

Elden was disturbed from his musings by a buzzing tension and the strong smell of juniper and jasmine. Had he not been distracted, he would have already felt the air shifting and pulsing with the will, I want… I want…

All fae magic started with the will, and Rosie’s was unwinding into the room around her. 

The hair on the back of Elden’s neck stood on-end like a concerned cat’s as his golden tendrils sniffed out the silky green ones forming in the air.

And then in the span of a moment in-between moments, Rosie was standing—no, floating—in front of him, a dress of silky emerald magic swirling around her, her eyes gleaming green like sunlight through leaves, looking like a queen of old.

Her voice whispered from the air all around them as her hand gently landed on the back of his neck. “I want you to feel good too…”

Elden swallowed. It was unwise to try and quell spontaneous outbursts of fae magic like this, and yet, between teacher and apprentice it was wise to maintain a certain amount of professionalism…

An emerald tendril brushed against the front of Elden’s ruby velvet trousers and he shuddered.

Rosie grinned, showing her own pointed canines. “‘Professionalism’? Come now, didn’t you say this is our culture?”

Elden forced a wry grin. “How long have you been reading my thoughts?”

“Since I decided I want you…”

Moments shifted, and then Rosie was standing in front of him, cheek against his stomach, hand against his growing bulge.

“…to feel good too.”

“You naughty little thing,” Elden gasped.

Rosie grinned. “I am, aren’t I? I messed up the potions… and now I’m being unprofessional…”Rosie’s fingers curled into the ruby velvet, and then it was gone, her own magic having pulled it away.

Elden stood, suddenly exposed, unsure of what to do, until her hot mouth folded around his length. Arousal quivered through him, rediscovering sensations. How long had it been? Decades? He had kept everything and everyone at arms’ length, and now here he was, cock-deep in his apprentice.

And it felt amazing. But he was supposed to be the one in charge, supposed to be the one taking care of…

“Shhhhh,” whispered the air around him as Rosie pushed him onto the plush chair she’d conjured behind him.

“Y-you won’t get me quite that easily,” Elden said, mustering his will and magic to stir his golden tendrils again. If he could exhaust Rosie first, he could get through this with some amount of dignity intact.

Elden’s genius plan had the effect of inspiring Rosie to moan around his cock, which put his willpower on much slipperier ground. Here she was, enhanced by a fae stamina potion, and here he was, some decades since his last proper indulgence. To say that his heat was rising quickly was a understatement. She bobbed down his length, tongue swirling and pressing, moans buzzing under his tip.

“R-Rosie… if you don’t stop that, I’m going to… I’m going to…”

He tried to think of some suitable punishment, but all he could think was I’m going to cum.

He was on the brink and Rosie knew it.

“How do you feel?” her voice asked from the air.

Her tongue swirled under his tip. He was dripping, but he could hardly afford to encourage her. And he was far from lucid enough to lie.

She pulled him slowly down her throat, lips pressing tight around him, and he couldn’t keep the moan from escaping. She brought him right to the edge again, then paused.

“I said, how do you feel?”

Dread mixed with hot arousal in Elden’s core as he realized that she was going to make him say it. She would keep him here, right on the brink, until he pushed her away or he said it. And the former was not an option, not with the way his whole body throbbed under her touch.

“It feels good,” he breathed.

“What’s that?”

“It feels so fucking good.”

And then she unleashed herself upon him and his arousal flared. “Rosie… Rosie!” Elden’s hips bucked as he hissed and plummeted over the edge.

Every candle flared, the logs in the fireplace cracked into sparks, and motes of light appeared around them. Outside the house, snow shuddered off tree limbs and the ice skating pont cracked from the center. Rosie drank deep and delighted, her lips around his base and their magic entwining.

Elden’s magic in Rosie thickened and swelled, pushing her into one last gushing climax.

As Elden’s breath finally slowed, Rosie tucked her cheek against his thigh. The dining room was dim, all the candles burned to their bases and the fire now only embers. The air now smelled of soot, juniper, and sex.

Despite Rosie’s best efforts, sleep soon overtook her slight form.

Elden’s magic swept her clean, but he lifted her into the plush bed she’d conjured and tucked her in with his own hands, then turned his attention to the guests and the fluid-drenched wreckage of a dining room.

Elden chuckled wryly to himself. “Just like the yultides of yore, if I do say so myself…”

Then he took a deep breath and undammed a stream of ancient magic. In a swirl of snowflakes and golden warmth, each guest was cleaned, their hair resettled, their clothes redressed, until they were just as they had been when they arrived. Coils of magic then spirited them away, each to their homes, dropping on their doorsteps at just the moment nobody was quite paying attention.

Each would remember a carriage ride home and report to their loved ones that they were quite sleepy, but would be happy to recount the experience the next day.

After a long, peaceful sleep, they would awaken to report an absolutely delightful dinner. Exactly what had made it so delightful, they couldn’t quite say… except that it was definitely the little bird, which despite its small size had been so very delicious that they couldn’t help but go back for thirds, fourths, or more.

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Christmas Dinner (Part III)

Continued from Part II

From the hallway Elden called, “And for dessert, we have…”

With a soft creak, Elden wheeled the serving cart into the dining room.

In the center of an oversized silver platter lay Rosie, on her back and utterly naked, trussed up with cotton twine—legs folded and spread, ankles bound together, arms tucked and bound by her sides, breasts tied together so that they shone upwards—like the prettiest Christmas turkey.

She wore a ring gag, her head tipped back on the platter, her brown eyes dilated to a shining black.

A slick sheen surrounded her on the serving tray—none other than the juices from her puffy, glistening cunt. While the guests had been struggling through their last course, Rosie had already been trussed up and marinating in the kitchen.

And now she was hot, wet, and ready, quivering with excitement.

The two men closest to the door—the ones who’d been debating the best way to cut a cigar, and the founding members of the club—stood suddenly. Their chairs went clattering and would have fallen, if not for a wisp of Elden’s magic.

Elden wheeled Rosie to the end of the table, the room silent except for the crackle of the fire and the quickening of breath.

“W-what is the meaning of this?” said one of the men at the end of the table, with a golden pocket square and curled mustache.

“Oh fuck,” moaned the man who’d been surreptitiously stroking himself under the table.

“I’m taking seconds,” breathed the woman seated at the middle of the table.

“Good friends, p-please,” said the man with the golden pocket square. “This is h-highly unprofessional…” His cock strained mightily against the front of his trousers, a wet spot spreading from the tip.

Elden smiled warmly at them, as if he’d brought out nothing more scandalous than a pumpkin pie. “There’s plenty for everyone, I assure you,” he said to the woman in the middle of the table. Then, to everyone, “You know the manners. Take your portion and pass, please.”

The silver tray slid onto the now-empty table, aligning Rosie’s mouth with the bulge of the man with the golden pocket square, and her cunt with the other founder.

He hadn’t said anything since Elden had wheeled Rosie in, and he now stared at her quivering breasts as his hips rocked slowly, rubbing his bulge against the table.

Tension thickened in the air, as ten desperate guests looked towards their de-facto leaders for whether they were allowed to break decorum. The man who’d been stroking himself edged, but brought himself to a quivering halt, not wanting to be the first to ‘break the seal’, so to speak. The woman in the middle of the table was now quite certain that this was a dream and so didn’t see any reason to hold off.

But they all looked to the two trembling men at the end of the table, who seemed frozen in place.

The only one moving was Rosie, who trembled and wriggled with desire to free both cocks. Her pleas turned to moans around the ring gag as another gush of juices joined the puddle in the serving tray. She wanted nothing more than to be spit-roasted like the holiday meal she so closely resembled.

It was for her benefit that Elden let the moment drag on so long. He would not let the Convention claim that he had not rendered adequate punishment. He could leave out the part about her enjoying it.

Finally, Elden said, “Please, honored guests. This is a cherished Christmas tradition of our culture. Your enthusiastic participation would be most honoring.”

“W-when you put it that way,” said the man who had been humping the table as he promptly dropped his trousers and freed his throbbing length. He plunged it into Rosie’s cunt, and they both moaned with the ecstasy of relief.

Still, the man with the gold pocket square hesitated. 

“Now, be very honest,” Elden said to him, magic weaving into his words. “Do you want this?”

“Fuck, yes,” breathed the man.

“Why do you hesitate?”

“It j-just seems so… so… crass.”

“Ah!” said Elden. “But of course. I may as well have asked you to take your own coat off, good sir.” Elden’s slender fingers hovered over the man’s belt buckles. “May I?”

The man nodded with as much dignity as he could muster while his friend pounded into Rosie.

Elden was in no hurry as he carefully undid the man’s belt, slipping it out of the loops and drawing a deep shudder, carefully placing it over the back of the chair and then slowly undoing each trouser button.

The man’s decorum melted with each touch until his throbbing cock rested naked on Elden’s fingers, and the elf guided it into Rosie’s mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Elden said, trailing a finger down Rosie’s breast before giving her nipple a light pinch. “She doesn’t need to breathe much.”

The last few threads of the man’s will snapped as his hips bucked of their own accord, driving his cock deep into Rosie’s hot throat. She gulped and swallowed around him, desperate for his release, heedless of a mortal’s need for oxygen.

And so the two founding members fucked Rosie onto each others’ cocks, moans quickly reaching a fever pitch.

Those anxious for their turns did not have to wait long, as the vice grip of Rosie’s cunt and the greedy pressure of her tongue soon rewarded her. As the co-founder gave one last thrust before he burst, Rosie sucked the other over the edge.

They had barely slumped into their chairs before the next pair of men grabbed the platter and pulled her onto their waiting cocks.

The man who had started stroking under the table had now edged two more times and was openly masturbating, leaning against the table with one hand and pumping with the other. “H-hurry the fuck up,” he growled.

Elden appeared at his shoulder. “Come now,” he crooned. “There’s no rush. Wouldn’t she look lovely basted? You’ll have plenty more to give.”

“Oh fuck, you’re right. I’m s-so… s-so… oh fuck, here it comes!” The man’s whole body stiffened as he erupted across Rosie’s leg, stomach, and breasts—far, far more than should have been possible.

In the doses usually administered, the supernatural effects of the Valentines Day concoction were subtle, but at these doses there was no hiding it, especially as the man hardly slowed his stroking.

“Fuck, I’ve never cum that hard…” The man kept moaning as his slicked hand slid easily over his shaft. “And I think I might… I think I’m gonna cum again… I’m gonna, I’m gonna!” The man’s eyes rolled back as he fucked through his hand and showered Rosie with another equally thick orgasm. This time, his stroking slowed, though his cock still throbbed and dripped.

“H-holy shit, Chuck, where did that come from?” said the woman across from him, who was rubbing her breasts through her shirt, her suit coat already haphazardly slung over the back of her chair, as her own wetness ran down her leg.

“I d-don’t fucking know,” he said, “But fuck it felt good…”

The man at Rosie’s mouth groaned and came down her throat, her chest bobbing with every swallow. 

The woman wasted no time kicking off her trousers and hauling the end of the platter with Rosie’s head towards herself, even though the man at Rosie’s cunt wasn’t done yet. The woman clambered up onto the table, and dropped her sopping cunt onto Rosie’s face, earning a delighted moan from Rosie.

“Fuck!” said the man at her cunt. “T-that’s making her squeeze so tight, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” His legs nearly dropped out from under him as he pumped into Rosie.

The woman riding Rosie’s face smirked. “All these greedy men, and you haven’t cum yet, have you sweetie? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Before the man who’d basted Rosie could take his position, the woman buried her fingers into Rosie’s cunt and reached around to find Rosie’s spot.

Rosie screamed with delight, as the man who’d basted her looked up incredulously.

“It’s my turn,” he said to the woman.

She rocked her hips against Rosie’s face. “Is it? You just came. Twice. So I think that means I get both holes now. Unless this little cutie likes it in the ass…” The woman looked back at Rosie.

Rosie nodded emphatically into the woman’s cunt.

“Well there you go.” The woman pulled hard on Rosie’s spot and Rosie moaned, tucking her hips to give easier access to her ass. With her legs so nicely trussed and spread, it was an easy thing.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” said the man, and he plunged inside.

Rosie’s moans escalated to smothered screams as the woman worked her cunt and the man pounded her ass. Rosie gushed around the woman’s hand, splattering the man’s hips.

“I-is she cumming?” he asked.

The woman chuckled. “Oh, when she cums, you won’t have to ask.”

As if on cue, Rosie’s breathing quickened and then hitched into one long, high scream as she squirted even harder, cunt and ass clenching with the waves of her climax.

“Fuck!” the man said, slamming one last time into Rosie’s ass. He emptied with a few clenches of his ass, even as Rosie kept cumming around him. “I-it’s like she’s m-milking me…”

The woman’s breathing quickened too. “Th-that’s right cutie, fucking milk that ba— ah… Ohhhh fuck!” She trembled through her own pulsing orgasm, and would have fallen off the table if Elden hadn’t been there to catch her and lower her into her chair.

As the next pair of men claimed Rosie’s throat and ass, the following pair were struck with that particular creativity that comes from being overwhelmingly horny, and found angles that let them fuck Rosie’s tits and cunt respectively.

That left only the man and woman who were closest to the fire, and who were now already entirely naked, due to the sweltering heat both within and without. They were both still in their seats, the woman with her fingers buried in her cunt and the man stroking his dripping cock, contemplating what they would do on their turn.

Hardly four thrusts in, the man at Rosie’s throat grunted and stiffened. The one sliding between her tits smirked. “Losing it already?”

“N-no,” he said, pulling out as if to prove it, but his cock throbbed and oozed from the ruined orgasm. Two more strokes with his hand had him erupting all over Rosie’s face. Instead of slumping back, he slid his still-dripping cock down her throat. “Fuck, I need more…”

One by one, the four men fucking Rosie finished (or finished again), moaning and emptying, filling and coating Rosie with another layer of cum.

As the platter slid to the end of the table, directly in front of the final man and woman, they were each hard pressed to part their hands from their throbbing genitals. So they didn’t, and the man buried his face in Rosie’s cunt while the woman cupped a breast for Rosie to suck on.

Meanwhile, the founders found themselves craving another round and stood at the end of the table, soon basting Rosie with their own prodigious contributions.

The sight and sound pushed the last two over the edge, the man bathing the floor and the woman soaking her chair.

Though that was hardly the end of it. True to Elden’s promise, they each had seconds and thirds and fourths or more. The platter filled with jubilant juices, and Rosie was thoroughly glazed with them. As the haze of urgency gave way to merry fucking, the two women took bets on who and how Rosie would cum again, and the men did their best to prove their prowess.

They milked another pulsing, gushing orgasm from her with a cock down her throat, a cock up her ass, fingers in her cunt, and a mouth at each breast. Her muffled screams of ecstasy filled the festive dining room as her juices filled the serving tray to nearly overflowing.

One by one, each guest succumbed to exhaustion, and Elden returned them to their spot at the table to slumber peacefully.

The last one standing—or, more accurately, sitting in his chair, head in his hand, too tired to stand but too horny to stop stroking himself—was the man who’d been first to stroke himself under the table and who had consumed the most of the magicked wine.

Rosie caught her breath, still trussed and juiced on the table, as Elden conjured himself a clean chair so that he could sit next to the last guest.

“And how are you feeling?” Elden asked.

“S-still so fucking horny…” he said. Indeed, his cock was dripping and had been for some time, forming a growing puddle at his feet. He stroked desperately, but his exhausted arm couldn’t provide enough stimulation.

“Put your arm down,” Elden said.

The man obeyed, though his hips bucked reflexively.

“Look into my eyes,” Elden said. “Focus.”

The man did so.

Elden’s eyes gleamed with magic. “Let it all out. Every last drop.”

Heat rushed over the man’s body and he relaxed, even as his cock twitched. His hands stayed limp at his side. “O-okay… yeah… oh yeah… fuck…”

With a quiet sigh of relief, the man’s twitching cock erupted another two orgasm’s worth of cum onto the floor between his feet, working out the last of the aphrodisiac and finally releasing him into peaceful slumber.

Continued in Part IV

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Faster Than Light

[WP][TT] At the last minute you were invited to help crew the worlds first FTL ship. They may have neglected to mention you’re the lewd, experimental fuel source from DirtyWritingPrompts

Mason Jones was over the moon. Literally! Over the moon! Further away from Earth than the moon!

He’d been on the waiting list for space travel for years. And being on that list owned your life whether you were selected or not. You had to eat perfectly, exercise perfectly, regular blood tests, twice yearly check-ups, it was a whole thing. Only those in tip-top shape were allowed to even stay on the list.

As Mason watched the earth become smaller and smaller behind them, he marveled that it had only turned around twice since he’d been notified that he’d been selected for the mission. And not just any mission. The mission of the century. The maiden voyage for faster than light travel.

It had all been a blur since then. Something about him meeting a certain physical qualification based on his most recent test results. Something else about his predecessor dropping out. Their loss!

And now, he was here, in space!

Soon the ship was millions of miles away from Earth, in empty space, and it was time to start preparing for faster than light travel. And to meet the rest of the crew. In all the rush, they’d hardly been introduced. There were six of them altogether; the pilot, the co-pilot, the navigator, the mechanic, the researcher, and then Mason.

“So, uh… I don’t think they quite told me in all the rush, but what’s my role here?” From what they’d listed, they seemed to have it covered.

The rest of the crew shifted uncomfortably, except for the researcher. She was a black woman, late twenties, round eyes, button nose, and like everyone else on the crew, in impeccable physical condition.

The pilot, a Scandinavian man with blond hair and nearly clear skin, blushed. “They didn’t tell you?!”

Mason tried not to let his growing concern show.

“Guess they didn’t want the same thing to happen as with Dutch,” said the mechanic, a thick woman with brown hair and blue eyes.

“You’d better tell him,” said the pilot, looking at the researcher.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” the researcher said. “FTL is theoretically possible with a careful warp of the space-time continuum. Recent research has indicated that human consciousness is more multi-dimensional than initially expected. Desire is inherent to the existence of life and thought to be species agnostic, so the theory goes that with sufficient desire, an FTL jump to another compatible concentration of desire is possible. This will cause the space-time fabrics to collapse, allowing instantaneous transport over light years.”

The pilot shook is head and put his hand to his forehead. “Tch, in English, Kendra?”

Kendra tilted her head. “That was an extremely simple explanation.”

The mechanic sighed. “What the good doctor here is trying to say is that FTL apparently runs on sexual torture.”

“Say what now?” Mason said.

“This is why your predecessor dropped out last minute,” the pilot explained.

Mason tented his fingertips in front of his chin. He caught eyes with the researcher. “I just have one question. Is it going to hurt?”

“Only if you want it to,” she replied.

A shiver tingled down Mason’s spine and his growing confusion was replaced with a growing boner. He was beginning to understand which ‘physical qualifications’ may have resulted in his invitation.

“Well, I will do whatever I must to make FTL possible. I didn’t measure my alcohol consumption down to the milliliter for the past five years to let a little bit of sexual torture stop me from making space history. Let’s get to it. For science.”

And for the predicament bondage and sexual torture fetish that he was now sure the government had scraped from his browsing history. 

The researcher had horrible bedside manner and that made the whole thing that much more thrilling.

Mason was taken to the center of the ship to a rig that comprised a body-shaped armature and a lot of bindings. He was sure that the space administration had spent millions of dollars engineering what was already available on the market as bondage furniture. 

The researcher had already explained to him everything that was going to happen, and he felt quite excited. He could also sense the eyes of the rest of the crew, grateful but curious, and perhaps slightly judgmental of his enthusiasm. And, shameless pervert that he was, that turned him on even more.

His flight suit could not hide his erection as the researcher finished preparing the machine. 

The researcher noticed. “It’s not that time, yet.”

“Yes, but a good service member is always prepared.”

“Hm.” She didn’t laugh, but she did seem amused. 

Finally, it was time to strip and strap in. Mason’s heart pumped hot blood throughout his whole body, but especially to his member. He shed his flight suit and underclothes and then the researcher secured him to the frame. 

She prepped a needle and an IV canister, and Mason looked away as she pierced his vein. This would be a mix of fluids, to ensure that he did not become too dehydrated, and a powerful aphrodisiac.

Even before the bag was empty, the drug started to hit Mason. It was an overwhelming surge of arousal and he strained reflexively against the bonds. He felt so hot, and so hard. And this wasn’t even the full effect.

Fuck, he needed to fuck something! His hips pressed against the bindings.

He focused on taking deep breaths to calm himself while the researcher finished her administration. He’d be able to go crazy with lust in just one more moment.

Once the IV canister was empty and the needle removed, she stepped around the front and swung another piece of the armature into place. It supported a cylinder aligned with Mason’s cock, and it looked quite similar to a masturbation sleeve he’d owned once.

As with the armature, he was sure that the space administration had spent millions — billions even — creating something that had been available to kinky consumers for decades.

But such thoughts vaporized from his mind the moment the cylinder slid over his over-sensitive cock. It was soft, textured and lubricated inside.

He moaned shamelessly at the sudden rush of pleasure.

The researcher moved back to the outside of the room. A series of concentric rings around Mason started spinning, though his part remained still. The researcher had explained something about the rings magnifying the effect and grasping the space time fabric, whatever that meant.

All he could think about was his body pounding his heat, quivering in an attempt to fuck the cylinder but held tight by his bindings.

Then the rings whirred to life and so did the cylinder. It squeezed around him, something near his frenulum vibrated, and he was totally overwhelmed with pleasure.

With the effects of the aphrodisiac, it was not long before he was moaning and panting on the edge.

But he knew, with profound and painful pleasure, that he was going to be on that edge for a very, very long time. This, the researcher had also explained. The space time fabric had to be given enough time to ripple.

He would orgasm when the ship made the FTL jump, and not a moment before. The armature was monitoring all his vitals, controlling the vibrations and the pressure in the cylinder, and it completely controlled his ability to climax.

The edge, the denial, the desperation aroused him even further and deepened his predicament.

After a few minutes at the torturous edge, Mason clawed his way back to thinking actual thoughts to give himself a bit of a respite. He found the researcher, watching him, and grinned wryly. “So, uh, who’d you test this out on before?”

“An adequate sample size.”

“Ohhh, so you’ve had quite a few blokes through your frame.”

“You’ll have a bullet through your head as soon as we’re back to earth if you make inappropriate remarks to me.”

“Right! S-sorry, just… not quite thinking… straight…”

“Please do surrender yourself to insatiable desire.”

Mason shivered violently. “T-minus… ngh… two or three edges and we’ll be there…”

“Would some visual stimulus assist your descent into sex-crazed madness?” Her tone was deadpan. But Mason would have sworn she was fucking with him on purpose… or maybe it was just him projecting.

“I, uh, daresay it might.” What kind of hilarious science porn might she have?

But then the researcher moved into the center of Mason’s field of view and unzipped her flight suit.

Mason gulped, arousal flaring hotter.

She grinned at him, letting him simmer in that anticipation. Okay, she was *definitely* also getting off on this.

Then, she reached down and grabbed the hem of her undershirt, starting to pull it up.

Mason quivered, every nerve alight with desire.

“For science,” she said, and pulled the shirt the rest of the way over her breasts.

Mason’s heart pounded, his breathing came in rapid gasps, the heat of the edge tickled at his base, the rings around him whirred with energy, but there was no release. No relief.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” she teased.

Mason’s dick screamed ‘yes!’ but a quiet and steady part of him said, “O-only if you want me to…”

“What if I want you to be here, trapped, quivering on the edge until your brain melts into insanity?”

Mason’s hips thrust involuntarily against the bindings, every hair on his body stood on end, the rings whirred louder. His balls tensed, but he didn’t come.

“What if I don’t want FTL to work,” she said, slipping a hand down into her panties, “And I haven’t turned off the safety, and so I will do this to you over and over again until you’re physically incapable of arousal, and we’ll have to turn around and head back to earth?”

“Fuck!” The rings were whirring so fast that they became a blur, a transparent curtain between Mason and the researcher.

And then something shifted. Mason moaned with a deep pleasure. He felt his sense of self expand, he was aware of something outside the ship, something very very far away, and yet also right in the center of him.

Something was coming together. Something very, very important was coming together.

“I f-feel something…” he said.

“Give into it,” the researcher said, eagerly. “Let it call to you.”

“It’s calling… oh fuck, it’s calling… oh god…”

The researcher grinned, eyes wild with anticipation. “God can’t help us where we’re going!”

The pleasure of the edge was expanding through his body, but slowly, very slowly. As if it was carrying something with it. Like a piece of the space time continuum and the ship of six space goers trying to bust through it.

“I’m so close… it’s so close… oh fuck it feels good… I need it…”

“Yes!”

“I want it…”

“Yes!”

And this his breathing became deeper, faster. His body quivered. His cock throbbed with pleasure, his whole being buzzing with heat and anticipation. “I’m… I’m coming… oh fuck… I’m coming… I’m coming!”

The researcher slammed her fist on the intercom button. “We’re going!”

“Fuck, yes!”

As the ship broke into the impossible space between space, Mason released his first thick spurt of cum into the cylinder. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through him, squeezing more cum out of him, as the ship passed through fields of strange energy and hurtled through space.

Then, finally, Mason relaxed and the ship came to a stop.

In a completely different system, on the other side of the galaxy.

They’d done it!

But Mason was too exhausted to celebrate. 

The researcher came over and hooked up another IV canister for him, this time without aphrodisiac. “You did great,” she said. “Do you think you can do it again?”

As he let sleep overtake him, he murmured, “To infinity and beyond…”

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Professor’s Predicament (Part II)

Continued from Part I

A man’s voice, “Hey professor, I really need some extra tutor— oh.”

The warm voice, the smile lines at the eyes, the classic haircut, the knit cardigan. It wasn’t a student. It was her husband, Bradley.

He quickly shut the door behind himself and locked it.

Julia blinked. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing there?” he said.

“It was an accident.”

He surveyed her from head to toe. Her flushed cheeks, her firm nipples, her gooseflesh, her sopping wet vulva, her curled toes.

“Uh huh,” he said. “An accident.”

“Really!”

“Looks like I got here just in time, then.”

“Why are you here, though?”

“We’d planned to get lunch together, remember? I know you’re busy so I just graded papers, but then I realized if you’d forgotten to meet me you’d probably forgotten to eat altogether, so…” He lifted a bag from the college food court that he’d carried in and then set that on the desk.

Julia flushed with appreciation and renewed arousal.

Next to where he’d set the bag was a little remote, and he lifted that and considered it. “This is the part you forgot, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Can you let me out?”

“No.” Bradley’s grin curled into a kind of mischievous smirk that would have shocked his students. In the classroom, he was always so mild-mannered. Bashful, even. Not so in bed.

He set the remote back on the desk and stepped over to evaluate Julia more closely.

“You’ve gotten yourself in quite the bind, haven’t you?” he said.

“Oh god, Bradley, not the puns…”

“What are you going to do about it? You’re all trussed up and nowhere to go.”

“Bradley…”

“C’mon, don’t be tongue tied. No need to restrain yourself.”

“Shut your stupid, pretty mouth and fuck me!” Julia wiggled against the bonds as hard as she could, gasping at the increased pressure on her vulva and the tingle of electricity.

“Not yet,” Bradley said. “You know how I love a captive audience.”

Julia was too aroused to complain this time.

He leaned his face down to hers and kissed her, then bit her lip, then nibbled her ear.

Julia shivered and moaned, no longer capable of forming words.

He pressed his finger against her lips. “Shhh. Someone might hear.” And then with a cruel glint in his eye, he pinched her nipple.

She squealed with pleasure.

“Shhhh…” He pinched her other nipple.

Julia bit her lip and struggled to hold in another moan. “N-not fair! Meanie!”

He trailed his fingers from her shoulder, down the dip of her waist and over her hip. “You like it.”

She shivered, wetness spilling from her vulva and down the side of her thigh.

He traced his fingertips over her breasts, her stomach, her ass, her feet.

She gasped and wiggled and shuddered and did her best to stifle moans.

Finally he leaned back and she was both relieved and disappointed.

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Bradley grinned and stepped behind her.

“Wait, the fuck! Bradley! What are you going to do?” she hissed.

He didn’t reply.

There were twin shadows under the door, the feet of the approaching student. The doorknob rattled, but didn’t open. The student knocked.

Bradley traced a fingertip across Julia’s swollen, wet, aching vulva.

“Ah!” She couldn’t hold in the moan of surprised pleasure.

“Oh!” said the student at the door. A young woman from the morning section. “Professor?”

Julia’s mind struggled to surface from the pool of heady pleasure.

“Professor? S-sorry, you’ve left the door locked…”

Bradley circled his fingertip over Julia’s clit. She squinted her eyes shut and bit her lip to hold in the moan. 

Bradley leaned over her ear from behind and whispered, “She’s waiting for an answer…”

“T-terribly sorry Courtney, I’m just a bit t-tied up at the moment…”

Bradley grabbed each of Jula’s ass cheeks in a hand, spreading her open. She knew he was looking at her sopping wet mess of a vulva and that it was making him hard. God, she wanted his dick in her so bad.

“Oh,” Courtney said. “Should I… come back later? I’m just having some trouble with the figures for tomorrow’s problem set…”

Julia took a deep breath and gathered her wits about her, though just barely. “If you could be so kind, please. So sorry for this being awkward, I’ve done a poor job planning for the grant deadline so I’ve locked myself in her until I finish. I’ll be extending all this week’s homework deadlines since I won’t be able to grade anyway. I’d drafted an email but, well, in classic style I’ve just realized I forgot to hit ‘send’.”

“Oh! That’s no trouble at all. So sorry to bother you. See you tomorrow!”

Julia took a breath to answer, but then Bradley’s fingertip pressed between her labia and she gasped.

Courtney fretted at the door a moment longer, then walked away.

Julia turned to frown at Bradley. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made me disappoint her!”

“What I have done,” he said, “Is saved her from the trauma of walking in on her favorite professor naked. And what I am doing now is collecting my reward.”

He pressed a second finger inside her and it filled her with the most delicious heat.

“O-okay,” she said, “T-that’s a good point…”

Her arousal swelled in anticipation of him getting ready to fuck her properly, but he withdrew again and left her frowning and searching for him.

He came around in front of her, another cruel glint in his eyes and another wicked smile on his pretty lips.

Julia gulped.

First, he shrugged of his cardigan. Then, unbuttoned his oxford one… by one…

Julia trembled, wanting to see him naked already, but knowing that if she protested, he’d go even slower.

His erection throbbed against the front of his khakis, but he didn’t undo his belt yet.

Instead, he left his unbuttoned oxford on his arms and leaned down to untie his left shoe, then his right. Julia had never seen anyone remove their socks so slowly, so alluringly, as Bradley did just then.

Then he stood and put his fingertips to his belt.

She quivered with expectation.

He let her shake for a moment before feeding the loose end through the buckle and slowly pulling the two ends apart. He slipped the belt out of its loops and set it aside.

He rubbed his erection through the front of his khakis, moaning quietly, leting his expression show his pleasure.

Julia shook, forgetting her earlier resolve to not beg. “Please…”

Bradley paused, as she knew he would. “Please, what?”

“I don’t even fucking know, you’re driving me crazy…”

Bradley smiled and laughed. His eyes always looked so kind when he laughed. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Alright, I’ll show some mercy.” He unbuttoned his pants, stepped out of them and his boxers, and stood before her naked. His shaft was already hard and throbbing.

Even through her haze, Julia knew that it was partly mercy and partly Bradley’s own excitement getting away from him.

But he did not do what she had so desperately hoped and come around to fuck her.

Instead, he looked down at her and started to stroke himself.

Julia whimpered. “Please… Please, fuck me!”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Why?!”

“Because seeing you like this has got me all hot and bothered and I would last about two seconds. And that’s no fun.”

“W-what about my fun?”

He smiled at her, knowingly. “This is your fun. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Julia pouted. “I mean, yes, but you don’t have to call me out like that!”

“Yes, I do. It’s part of my fun.” He kneeled next to her and reached around her ass and fingered her again.

She moaned and writhed in pleasure, but it was all too short.

He returned his soaking wet hand to his shaft and started stroking in earnest. He moaned a bit louder.

Every nerve in Julia’s body tingled with heat.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck you like this…” Bradley’s arousal was quickly building, his face overcome with pleasure. “Just seeing you like this is making me… oh fuck, Julia…”

There was another reason that Julia only allowed her students to call her “Professor” or “Doctor”. It was because from the very first time that she had ever heard her name from Bradley’s tongue, from the very first time it had rolled between his lips and come to meet her ear, she had known that she only ever wanted to hear her name in that way, she wanted it to only ever come from him.

Julia trembled desperately. “Bradley, please! Please come on me and fuck me, please—”

Bradley’s eyes rolled back with pleasure, his breathing quickened. “Oh Julia…”

“Yes, please, yes yes, yes!”

With a barely-stifled moan Bradley’s balls spasmed and he pumped rope after rope of cum onto Julia’s breasts.

It was so warm, her skin was so sensitive, her mind was drowning in pleasure, she felt on the edge of climax but there was no release, only growing, swelling, aching, panting urgency.

Even as Bradley’s climax tapered off, he did not soften in the slightest.

He put his hand to her cheek and met her eyes, and she knew. She knew her release was coming. Her body quivered with anticipation.

He wasted no time in coming around behind her, lining his tip up to her swollen, wet entrance and pressing inside.

Julia moaned loudly.

Bradley clamped one hand over her mouth and pressed the other over her pubic mound, fingers curling around to her clit from the front.

And then he fucked her, pulling her down onto himself as he thrust into her, the angle putting his tip right against her G-spot, his fingers running circles over her clit.

Julia could not think, she could only feel. Every nerve in her body was hot, electric sensation. She could have stayed like that forever. Except that she was desperate to come.

And she was so close. A pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure. Her moans deepened. She nodded into Bradley’s hand.

He kept up his exact pace.

She slowly approached the edge. She was breathing so quickly. There was so much of Bradley’s skin against her skin. If it had been up to her, she would have been far over the edge, but as it were she could only surrender to Bradley’s ministrations.

And it was this perfect, slow, incredible explosion.

The heat blossomed and every muscle in her body contracted together, the muscles of her sex squeezing around his shaft, the electric tingle of the restraints digging deeper, air forced out of her lungs, throat tight and shaping it into a scream. Bradley’s hand over her mouth made it quieter, but not by much.

Then a second clear wave. Then a third.

And then as the contractions of pleasure continued, her body started to relax. First her throat, so that her screams became moans. Then her arms, and her legs, and her ass, melting into Bradley’s embrace. For a minute or more, the contracts of her climax pulsed through her body.

It was not just the anticipation of the past fifteen minutes that flowed out of her, but also the stress of the grant writing, the tension of the week. It all drained and drained and drained until she was completely relaxed and utterly content.

Bradley wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, then brushed her hair back from his face.

He was still inside of her. He hadn’t climaxed again, but he was relaxing with her. His shaft throbbed as it softened, and she loved that feeling.

He nuzzled his cheek into the back of her neck. “God, I love it when you come when I’m inside you…”

Julia was too dizzy in the afterglow to form words, so she just nodded.

They fell asleep together there, for some unknown amount of time. Julia really would have to replace the batteries in her clock.

They both stirred and Bradley finally went over to the desk and triggered the release. The fibers went slack around Julia and she was finally able to move again. He helped rub the blood back into her muscles — though he spent a disproportionate amount of time on her ass for obviously selfish reasons — and then they dressed again.

Julia finally checked the clock on her phone. It was evening.

“Better get back to work,” she sighed.

Bradley put his arm around her shoulder, his cardigan soft against her cheek. “Actually, I was thinking,” he said, “that since you ghosted me for lunch, you have no choice but to come get dinner with me.”

Julia took a deep breath and put her phone away. “I’m just worried about the grant.”

He kissed her cheek. “I know. But, love, you’ve been done for days.”

“Are you sure?!”

“I am very sure because you’ve asked me to proof read it eight times.”

“But what if…”

He poked her in the ribs. “Jesus Christ, Julia, I’m an English professor for God’s sake. If I say the paper is good, it’s good.”

Julia rolled her eyes, but snuggled further into him. “Okay, okay. Fine. I guess dinner won’t hurt.”

He kissed the top of her head. “That’s a good girl.”

Julia’s heart fluttered like a crushy school girl as Bradley took her hand and lead her up and out of the basement.

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Professor’s Predicament (Part I)

[WP][TT] A feisty inventor who teaches engineering at a college does her best thinking nude. Unfortunately, today she accidentally sprung a device she was working on designed to "restrain" intruders. Why did it have to be during open office hours where any second… from DirtyWritingPrompts

Julia Casey allowed her students to address her in two ways and two ways only. Their options were “Professor” or “Doctor”. She had worked hard for her PhD and for her tenure track, dammit.

That was not to say that she did not enjoy teaching. She made it a point to learn all her students’ names. Students who sat quietly in the back of other classes asked questions and offered opinions in hers, and she was damn proud of that.

The main reason that she insisted on being addressed as “Professor” or “Doctor” was that otherwise, her students and even her peers tended to forget that she was brilliant. And eccentric. ‘Absent-minded Julia’ would be quickly written off. ‘Absent-minded professor’ was a statement of positive regard.

It was not that her mind was absent, strictly speaking, so much that it was in so very many places at once. When she was trying to think, really think, her mind expanded to absorb every possible idea, every present stimulus.

An unfortunate side-effect of that was that she would become acutely aware of the rub of her pants against her skin, the stray tag in her shirt, the elastic of her bra digging into her sides.

When she was trying to think, really think, Professor Casey needed to be naked.

This was one of the reasons that she’d insisted that one of the old workshops that was now too small to fit a class would become her office and workshop. It was in the basement of one of the older buildings on campus and while the lack of windows would have annoyed another professor, it was quite perfect for Julia. She could think however she pleased, whenever she needed to.

And today was a day when she needed to do quite a bit of thinking. The grant deadline was nearly upon her and she could feel it tightening its claws around her. She was onto something, she really was! But she just needed to put it in the right words, the words that would convince the committee to give her further funding. She had a working prototype and everything!

So Professor Casey paced, back and forth in the cluttered little workshop, wondering how she could possibly explain to the small-minded grant committee just how important her invention truly was.

Women were at a disadvantage when it came to personal protection, you see. Not just in the obvious ways. Tools could be used to overcome physical disadvantages — tools like firearms and pepper spray and tasers — but there was one very direct issue with these tools when used for home defense. They required that your ‘fight’ instinct be triggered.

Professor Casey knew plenty of happily violent women, but she also knew plenty of women and men who were much more likely to ‘flee’ or ‘freeze’. So, she had set out to create an autonomous home protection device. Most importantly, it needed to be non-lethal, so that it could err on the side of being over-protective.

And she had created just such a thing. It really worked! She just needed more time and a bit more money to refine the design to replace some of the more expensive and complicated parts.

As she paced, Professor Casey remembered that she’d spent a late night in the lab a couple days back and had scribbled down some ideas for the grant and crammed them in one of the back shelves. Eagerly, she hurried over towards them.

There was a soft snap, a whoosh, and then Professor Casey was on her side on the floor, the wind knocked out of her, and her limbs fully restrained.

She had forgotten that she’d left the prototype live. She’d tested it many times before, but always with the release in-hand. Now, the release was ten feet away on her desk. Or, was it in her bag? No, she’d left it on the bookshelf?

The clever bit about this invention was the detainment device. It was created from a special polymer that would become firm or limp depending on how much electrical current passed through it. It was folded into the ejector in such a way that as a pulse of electricity first activated it, it spread into a net. Then, specially timed pulses of electricity manipulated it to maximize the tangling coefficient. Once it was completely tangled around the target, the current would stay live to ensure that it was stiff and inescapable. Once de-activated, the fibers became limp and the target could extricate themselves.

It was incredibly effective. Nearly infallible.

Professor Casey struggled against the fibers, to no avail. The slight current of electricity within them raised the hairs on her arms, on the back of her neck.

She didn’t have time for this, the grant deadline was approaching! She—

Her phone dinged a reminder tone.

Wait, what was that about? She thought she was clear for the rest of the afternoon? She wiggled around so that she could see the clock over her door. It read 6am. Fuck, she’d forgotten to replace the batteries.

Julia wracked her brain. It was Tuesday afternoon, and on Tuesday afternoon, she had…

Open office hours.

And here she was, completely naked, tangled up in her own invention in the middle of the office floor.

She’d set the reminder for five minutes before office hours. Or was it ten? Or two? She didn’t usually cut it this close with her thinking time, but this grant deadline had her all out of sorts.

Her heart raced, her body preparing itself for fight or flight, though neither of those was an option.

Had she been able to crawl over to her phone, she could have used her nose to phone another faculty and request a rescue. But she couldn’t so much as wiggle. 

That was the genius thing about her invention, actually. The fibers formed a sort of perfectly molded cage from head to toe, holding her arms against her sides, her legs together. She couldn’t even bend at her hips.

And though it covered enough of her to totally restrain her, her breasts and her ass were still totally exposed.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Not in the slightest.

The worst of it was actually that her heart rate rising, the heat flushing through her body, the tingling in her fingers and toes, wasn’t really fight or flight. It was abject arousal.

One of the electrified strands lay across her nipple, subtly stimulating the area. Another wrapped under her ass, digging into the skin and muscle and pulling tight enough that it just brushed the edge of her outer labia. That contact became firmer and firmer as her labia swelled with arousal.

Julia gulped, her mouth watering.

This was another one of her eccentricities. As her friend Emily, a professor of sexual health, had explained: most people were turned off by stress. Some people were turned on by it. Julia was really turned on by it.

But she needed to get a hold of herself. What if a student walked in?!

And that very thought aroused her further, worsening her predicament.

Thank god all of her students were legal, at least.

The more aroused she became, the more difficult it was to think.

And the more difficult it was to think, the more sure she was that she was going to be found like this.

And the more sure she was that she would be found like this, the more aroused she became.

And the more aroused she became, the more her labia swelled into the electrified fiber. And it felt good. And the better it felt, the wetter she got. And the wetter she got, the more the electricity tingled through her vulva.

The same hypersensitivity that had lead her to get naked in the first place filled her senses. She was so aware of every place the fibers pressed into her, of every electric tingle, the prickle as her hairs raised, a shift of air over her naked skin.

She was breathing heavily now. Her students would find her worse than naked. They’d find her naked and so aroused.

But then, a logical thought cut through the haze and she relaxed a bit. She always locked the door when she was thinking. So, they’d just find the door locked and think she’d forgotten about office hours. That happened often enough, they wouldn’t think too much of it.

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Julia’s heart skipped, sweat beaded on her upper lip. She licked it off, liking too much the way her tongue felt against her skin.

She had locked the door, right?

The handle turned.

She had not locked the door.

“Oh fuck,” she said.

The door swung open.

Julia froze.

Continued in Part II

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Arachnia (Part II)

Continued from Part I

Three weeks later

Val had been doing exceptionally well in his therapy. He had only gotten six inches closer to a spider each day, and by this point, he could comfortably be within arm’s reach. Ara assured him that that was quite a reasonable distance. Spiders liked their own personal space as much as he liked his — the goal was just to get him to the point that he could keep his wits about him.

Ara could, of course, speak to spiders, and as Val had been doing better and better, she had asked a few to hide in places close to him while it was safe. They had slowly emerged when she’d asked them to and though Val had been startled and unsettled, he had been able to simply give the spider its space and then relax again.

He was ready. And it was a good thing too. Ara was starving.

She’d been preparing him in other ways, too. A week and a half prior, she’d caught him masturbating. She loved the way that she’d turned his fear, shame, embarrassment into pleasure by offering to finish the job.

And by all the stars in the sky, he’d tasted so good. It had taken the edge off, but she couldn’t feed properly in this form.

Val had been all too happy to indulge Ara’s enthusiastic advances, and they’d quite happily become lovers. Nothing made Val climax harder, give Ara more, than when she sat on his face and sucked his dick with two fingers up his ass. He loved to be trapped by her, helpless under her.

He was going to love her true form so much, she just had to convince him of it.

It was when they finally reached the sacred temple that Ara decided to tell him.

“Val, there’s… something I’ve been keeping from you.”

He grinned wryly. “You’re a rival adventurer and you’re going to stab me in the back and run off with the records now that we’ve reached the sacred temple?”

“What? No! No, not at all. Of course not.”

Val raised an eyebrow at her.

She sensed the tension in his muscles as he considered reaching for his machete. She needed to tell the truth before his imagination ran away with him.

“I’m not human.”

“You’re a spirit?” Val asked. He was an adventurer, he knew the legends.

Ara nodded. “I’m… well…” she shuffled her feet, blushing, not sure why she was finding it so difficult to say something so matter-of-fact. Actually, she knew why. If he ran from her in fear, it would break her heart. “I am… the one who… made that web. That you got caught in.”

Val was no longer considering reaching for his machete, but he did look troubled. “So you’re… a spider spirit?”

Ara bit her lip. “Yes. I am.”

He grimaced. “I wondered how you knew so much about spiders.”

She shrugged apologetically.

“Why didn’t you— well. I guess I know the answer to that. If you’d told me earlier I’d have high-tailed it in the other direction. So I guess it’s not so much why you didn’t tell me, but… why didn’t you want me to run away?”

“Because you tasted delicious!”

Val shrunk away from her.

“N-no, that didn’t come out right… Okay, so you know how spirits feed on energy?”

He nodded, cautiously.

“We can… ‘taste’ what somebody’s energy is like. What their essence, their character is like. Your essence is… really lovely. Generous. It’s the generosity that matters. The more generous the… um… giver of the energy, the less it takes from them to give it.”

“I’m… generous?”

Ara nodded. “You would have made getting me home your priority, you tried to protect me from the bandits, you offered me your clothes instead of theirs, the way you eat me out for hours… generous.”

Val’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a little bit of arousal. “So why tell me now?”

Ara was losing her ability to be tactful, eagerness overcoming her. “Because, Val, I’m so hungry. And you smell so good. And I think… if I… if you let me… it wouldn’t take anything from you at all. It might even energize you!”

Val considered this. His blush deepened. “What do you… what would you look like when…”

“Can I show you?”

Val nodded slowly.

Ara considered and backed up a few paces to give him some space. She then relaxed into the magic around her and her true form came back to her so easily. It felt so good, like stretching after a long time cooped up.

She was not fully spider, as she had been when she’d first seen him. Her upper half was more or less the same, with her curly brown hair and her small breasts. Her canines had become longer and more pointed.

Other than that she was like a centaur, her back half that of a spider’s legs and abdomen. Her sides were smooth and shiny, her legs long and elegant, her movements graceful like a troupe of dancers all moving together. She thought she looked quite pretty. But she knew Val might disagree.

She could sense that all his hairs were standing on end, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t run. He took a step closer, then a deep breath. Another, then a deep breath.

Ara kneeled, tucking her legs cozily up under her, which put her head at the height of his hip.

He took a step and then a deep breath until he was close enough to reach out and cup her cheek in his hand. She nuzzled into him.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and kneeled in front of her. She kissed his forehead. He kept his eyes shut.

“C-can you… can you move so I can hear what it sounds like?” he asked.

“Yes.” She reshuffled her back legs, and there was the quiet clicking of chitin on stone.

He shivered violently, but did not run.

“O-okay… what is feeding like?”

She took his cheeks in her hands. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “You will be utterly trapped and bound by me. You will have no chance of escape, but you will have never felt safer in your whole life. I will own you, and I will protect you. You will give absolutely everything to me… and you will find that you have more than you started with.”

He shuddered and folded into her, his cheek against her breast, her arms around his head, pressing him into her.

“C-can you blindfold me?” he asked.

“Of course, my pet.”

He shivered. She was glad he liked that name. In her true form, she could no longer pretend to be helpless and uncertain. She could feel the power, the lifeblood of all the beating hearts around her, feeding into her, his brightest of all.

Her nimble back legs reached up to her spinnerets and prepared a length of firm, dry silk. She passed this to her hands and tied it securely over Val’s eyes. He gasped.

She turned him in her hands so that she was behind him and she pressed her lips against his neck. His blood flowed deliciously under her lips, the intermingled fear and arousal that she found so very, very intoxicating. She whispered in his ear, “This is your last chance to change your mind…”

Val gasped and shuddered. “Ara, take whatever you want from me.”

Ara growled with sheer pleasure and nipped at Val’s ear, then reared onto her eight powerful legs. Before he knew it he was in the air, lofted by her legs, rolling as she stripped off his clothes and wrapped him in her silk. The bindings were dry and strong with a comfortable bit of flex, and her legs where she held him were smooth and strong and gentle.

With him sufficiently bound, she quickly spun a web across the entrance of the temple so that she could string him up at her leisure. He would feel almost weightless, the firm hug of the silk replacing all sensation of gravity.

Now that he was wrapped in her bindings, they carried every quiver, every waver, every beat of his energy to her. She felt his pleasure, his fear, his excitement. This was why he was so very, very safe. She knew exactly how he felt, exactly what he wanted. Nothing would ever be too much. It would always be just right.

She turned him and hooked her fingers into the silk by his neck, her fingernails dragging along his skin as she pulled the silk aside. She put her lips to his ear. “You’re a very good boy, so I think you might not struggle, yes? But it feels so good to struggle…”

She traced a fingernail down the side of his neck and he shivered. The ticklish sensation sent him wriggling and writhing unconsciously. Where his growing erection throbbed against the tight hug of the silk, the sensation was incredible. She kept this up until his muscles were sore and he was panting.

“See? You’re very secure… No matter what, you won’t fall… nothing bad can happen to you here…”

He melted into her words, her touch.

“Now, I will tell you another thing about spiders,” she said, licking her lips. “We give something to our prey. And then we let them sit. And we let it do its work. And then when it’s ready, we drink up the results.”

Val whimpered.

“Would you like something like that?” Ara asked. “It will feel very, very good…”

“Yes! Please! Take anything from me…”

“That is such a good boy. I’ve got quite the reward for you…” She tilted his head back to expose his neck. She pressed her lips against him again, and his heart beat wildly against her. First, she licked his neck. Like her canines, her tongue was not quite human. It was longer, rougher, and as it passed over his skin, the skin tingled and then went numb.

She lined up her fangs and bit his neck. Her fingertips turned to claws at his head, his chest, as she pulled him into herself and the venom surged forth. It felt so hot, so pleasant, rushing out of her and into him.

Her venom glands now empty, she licked the little trickle of blood from his neck, and her saliva not only stopped the bleeding but completely healed the wounds.

She did not have to ask him to know how he felt, because of the way the silk resonated with energy between them, but she so loved to hear it. “How does it feel, my pet?”

“I-I thought it would hurt but… it didn’t…”

“Nothing will ever hurt here, remember that.” She nibbled playfully at his ear. “Unless you want it to. But please, continue.”

He shivered. “I-it’s so warm and… and soft, like… like a couple of beers… but tinglier, like… oh… oh… OH!” His breathing became quick and heavy.

“Whatever is happening, pet? Don’t hold out on me…”

He wriggled against the silk and moaned as it gave him the sensation he so desperately craved. “Fuck! I’ve n-never felt… so horny in… nnngh… ever… It’s so tight! I’m g-getting so hard, please… please I need room…”

Val’s erection was straining hard against the silk over his member.

“What, room here?” Ara reached down and massaged his erection through the silk.

“Yes!” For a moment, he moaned at the pleasure of her touch. Then, his urgency heightened. “P-please, it’s so tight! It hurts!”

Ara grinned her toothy smile. “But you like it when it hurts this way, don’t you? I can feel it.”

Val whimpered and wiggled. He then moaned suddenly as the aphrodisiac venom soaked in even more, doubling the pressure on his member.

“I suppose I can give you some extra room. But don’t get any ideas. You’re not done soaking yet.”

Val did not have enough capacity for thought to ask what she meant by ‘soaking’, he could only gasp with relief as she trailed her fingertip down his member and the silk melted under it, letting his erection spring free.

She twisted him around with her legs so that his shaft hung towards the floor. With a soft hand, she cupped his pendulous balls. “Oooh, getting nice and plump. You’re going to have so much for me, aren’t you?”

Val just moaned.

Ara settled back to watch the show as her venom took full effect. The swelling of his balls was more metaphorical than literal, more fantasy than anatomy, but this was how she liked to weave her spirit magics. 

His balls became heavier and heavier as he readied himself for her. His arousal became more and more frantic, his mind slipping deeper and deeper into her spell. Bit by bit, he was surrendering to her. Bit by bit, he was readying himself to give her everything.

She touched herself to the sight of it, the moans of her pleasure enhancing the effects of her venom.

Finally, the venom was at peak effect. His shaft throbbed needily, his balls hung full, and drool flowed freely from his panting mouth.

“Did you know,” she said as she approached him again, “That most of your cum doesn’t actually come from your balls? There’s a few glands near your ass that provide most of the volume. Same ones that produce pre-cum.” She pulled the strands of her web to rearrange his posture, bending him at the hip slightly so she had better access to his ass. “They’re right… about…” She pressed at the rear of his perineum. “Here.”

Val moaned from the very depths of his being as Ara’s touch sent those glands spasming and a thick spurt of pre-cum flowed from his tip. Every single part of him was over-sensitive, over-full.

Ara’s eyes dilated at the sight, the smell of the pre-cum. She licked her lips. It was time to feed.

She cinched a strand of silk around the base of his shaft and his balls as a cock ring, then shifted him so that his cock rested comfortably at her mouth height. Without further ado, she took him deep into her throat.

He cried out, rewarding her with another thick spurt of pre-cum.

With his balls plumped towards her like this, she could easily loop her tongue around them, stimulating the sensitive area. But that was just foreplay. Her tongue lengthened, still sweeping over his balls but also reaching towards his perineum, his rim.

Val’s whole body quivered with incomprehensible ecstasy as the tip of her tongue touched his rim.

Had she been any less hungry, she would have made him wait longer, but she herself could not resist. She wanted him, all of him, right now.

She moaned and grabbed his ass, her fingertips digging into the flesh. She pulled him to the very back of her throat, her tongue reaching up, around, and into his entrance. He would have already burst except that the tingling, numbing effect of her saliva slowed him down.

“Ara…” he moaned. “Ara… I’m so full… Fuck, you feel so good in my ass… a-and everywhere…”

Ara moaned greedily and pulled him deeper, fucking him with her tongue and squeezing around him with her throat. She moaned and the vibrations heightened the sensation.

“Ara… I c-can’t take it… I n-need to give you… everything…”

She could feel his pleasure through the silk, feel the heat building slowly and inescapably. She would share in all the pleasure of his climax, all the quivering ecstasy of the edge.

“Ara…” His breathing quickened. He shuddered. Pre-orgasmic sparks of pleasure flickered at his base, his ass. Pre-cum flowed freely from his tip, somehow even hotter than her throat, and the feeling of it flowing through his whole shaft drove him even crazier.

His balls throbbed, desperate to unload. His whole body tingled with the effects of the venom, every place the silk touched his skin alight with sensual pleasure.

“Fuck… oh fuck… Ara… I’m so close… s-so full… Ara, I think I’m… oh, fuck… Ara… ARA!”

Every single muscle of his body tensed together, sending the first hot pulse of cum down her throat. Then another, and another, his ass tensing and pumping into her.

He slowed, but did not stop. For a moment, he could speak again. “A-Ara, am I… I think I’m still c-coming…”

Ara moaned affirmatively.

The sensation tipped him over a new edge. “Oh, fuck!” The intensity renewed, another set of hard spurts that tapered off but did not stop.

She loved everything about this part, but she especially loved these lulls, when he just kept pumping and pumping.

Each climax was more intense than the last, each sent more and more of his essence down her throat. But he had not yet given her everything.

The last lull was as intense as his first climax had been. “Ara… Ara s-something’s happening… I f-feel strange… I-I’m going to let it… I t-think I need to… I’m going to… fuck, take everything!”

Val erupted into the most intense climax yet, and every strand of silk hummed with a pure, radiant energy. He moaned in wave after wave of pleasure, energy flowing freely from him into Ara and back into him. The vibrating of the silk becoming a song of jubilant triumph, Ara’s own scream of pleasure joining the symphony.

Slowly, gently, the intensity of the pleasure melted into relaxation. The song quieted and the silk dissolved into nothingness. Ara pulled Val to her breast and fell asleep against the wall of the temple, her arms around him.

Some time later, Val stirred. He opened his eyes for the first time since he had come to kneel in front of Ara and he looked up at her in adoration. She brushed a strand of hair back from his cheek.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, his voice hoarse from all his screams of pleasure. “If I hadn’t lost my mind back when I stumbled into your web… this is what would have happened.”

Ara smiled down at him. “More or less. But you had a lot more to give me for all our time together.”

He snuggled into her chest. “It’s funny, I thought I’d feel much more tired for having been drained by a succubus.”

“It’s like I said. The more generous you are, the less it takes from you.”

“So we could do that… any time?”

She nodded and kissed his forehead. “However much you like.”

“I think I’d like to do that… quite often…” He pushed himself to sit up. “I feel like I just got the best night’s sleep I ever had.”

Ara tucked her legs more tightly under her. “I-I can turn back, but… you may have to give me a few hours, it’s hard for me to shift back when I’m this full.”

Val stepped around her and carefully reached out to place a hand on the smooth side of her abdomen. “No, it’s okay. It’ll take some getting used to, but… What you just did was so hot, I’m sure it won’t take me long to adjust to however you look when you do that.”

Ara caught his eyes. “I might look a bit frightening. I might look powerful and large and dangerous. I might look hungry. Deadly.”

Val’s cheeks flushed with arousal and his shaft started to harden again. He grinned and came to kneel before her, looking up at her with those hazel eyes. His voice warm with love, he said, “I think that will be quite alright with me.”

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Part 3: Feature Set, The Black Box

Chapter 14: Dial a Friend

“I liked how you took control when you fucked me,” Arya said, “So I dreamed up another game for you. This one is called ‘dial a friend’”. 

“How does it work?” 

“It’s a simple one and not so realistic, but I think it’ll be fun. I give you a dial. Zero is like this, y’know, normal. 10 is edging, and 11 is coming. You set the dial.”

An illusory dial appeared in the air in front of John, and he mimed reaching out and grabbing it and turning it slightly. It clicked to 1. 

Arya grinned. 

“Any other rules?”

“Nope. I can literally orgasm forever. If you like, I can have it be that something is happening to me, like the tentacles again or I could have a vibrator, but I thought it being just sheer, direct arousal would be fun.”

“I agree.” John twisted the dial to 6. 

Arya yelped, face red, body twitching, and she fell forward and caught her hands on the back of the couch, pressing her legs together and moaning as a wave of wetness spilled from her parties. “C-cutting r-right to the ch-chase, huh.”

“Oh if this is just six, I can’t wait to see what nine and ten look like.”

Arya nodded encouragingly. 

“But not yet.” He brought the dial back down to three and Arya stopped shaking. 

“May I touch myself?” she asked.

“No,” John said. “Keep your hands where they are. Better yet, I want to see you in a wingback chair with your hands bound over your head, and your feet bound to the two front feet of the couch so that you’re spread for me, and lets add a funnel set into the seat of the chair and some beakers underneath so I can see just how much you’re leaking.” His own confidence surprised him, but it felt good.

The scene took shape as he spoke, and Arya beamed with pride. “Yes, sir!”

To see her all trussed up like that, a thin stream of wetness already draining into the beaker below the chair, was deeply inspiring. 

John settled back against the couch and started stroking himself, and enjoyed the turnabout of keeping Arya waiting. 

He figured he’d start off by seeing what each setting looked like, and then he could go from there. 

Four got her squirming periodically. 

Five drew out lusty sighs and a thicker stream of wetness. 

Six returned her to moaning and the waves of wetness that had soaked her panties, which she’d done away with in her transition to the chair. She started to say something but before she could, he ticked to seven, which had her breath heaving and her breasts bouncing, her legs twisting against the bonds, trying to clamp together, to get any stimulation, any anything, to address her desire.

Eight was like a pre-orgasmic wave of pleasure, panting moans that each came with a gush of wetness. 

Nine was the awareness of the edge, the peering over, the “I’m gonna… I’m so close… God, I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Ten was the edge itself, the precipitous moment of pure bliss, the weightless beginning of the descent. Through magic of the game it could go on indefinitely, Arya’s face a perfect depiction of ahegao, her body still like the calm before the storm. 

Eleven was the orgasm, the scream, the rhythmic contractions, the gush after gush of femcum that flowed down into the beakers. 

John spun the dial back down to one, now thoroughly warmed up and ready to play the game in earnest. 

Arya caught her breath and licked her lips. “Now that you’ve kicked the tires, what do you think?”

John grinned. “I like this one a lot.”

“Thats goo—” he cranked the dial to seven, “—oooooooooh, ah! Hah hah!”

Back down to five. Arya’s breath slowed back down and she dripped steadily. “I can see you’re really enjoying your s—” he set it to eight, “Ssssoooo good, god it feels so good, I can’t take it, please, please I—” to nine, and a wave of relief washed over her. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna… I think… fuck… fuck I’m so close I… I’m gonna…”

Back down to four. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Arya said. “Nnngh is this what I do to you?”

John grinned. “Yeah, pretty much.” In fact, it probably was based on what Arya did to him, if he was guessing correctly how her algorithms worked.

He stroked himself casually, his rapt attention to Arya’s desire the only thing keeping him from putting his own self right over the edge. 

Arya gave him a wry grin. “I’m gonna regret asking this but… do you have a favorite setting?”

He turned it back up to seven so that she was panting again. “I like the way you pant, here, and the way you drip so much, like you want to be fucked so bad.”

“I DO want to be fucked so bad, or at least touch myself!”

He set it to eight. “And I like here, how you beg.”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Arya said, “I can’t help it! It’s hah, so, so, ngh, I can’t take it, I need, I n-need release! I w-want to come so bad I— please, let me touch myself! Please! Please, John, please!” She yanked against the restraints, trying to shake them loose but unable to, trying to press her legs together but unable to, trying to grind against the chair for sensation but unable to, begging to come but unable to. 

“And I like to watch you come,” John said. Arya’s body twitched violently in anticipation but he didn’t spin the dial. “Not yet. I love them all, but my favorite, my absolute favorite, is this one.”

He set the dial to nine. 

“John! John I’m so close! Fuck, I’m gonna fucking… soak your floor… goddamn I just need… hah, fuck, oh! I’m coming… I’m coming… Joooohn I’m gonna, I’m gonna, I, please, I’m gonna… fuck!”

It was an endless stream of pre-orgasmic exclamations strung together and it was driving John into an absolute frothing boil of desire.

Hearing her like that was like twisting to 9 on his own dial. Just before he lost capacity for thought, John came up with an idea of how to finish that was appealing enough that he found his focus. 

He reached for the dial again and tipped it slowly through 10 and to 11. “I’m coming I’m coming I— … OH, FUCK, aaaaaaah!” Arya panted and shook and gushed. 

John pulled the dial back to 9. “Nnnngh I’m so close! Shit!”

Then back to 11. Then back to 9. “Can you keep doing that on that same rhythm?” John asked. 

Arya herself was too busy orgasming to answer, but after a moment the dial tipped back to 9 of its own accord, and then towards 11 again. 

Like a metronome of infinite looping orgasm, Arya rode wave after wave of luxuriously slow climax. 

John put both hands to himself, one to his shaft and one to his balls, and turned attention to his own pleasure. As Arya teetered he stroked himself, and as she climaxed he stopped to watch the show, and so he managed to last a good bit longer than expected. 

Until finally, he couldn’t bring himself to stop stroking when she came, and so his heat built and built and built until the start of what he knew would be the wave that brought him release. 

“I’m so close!” Arya said. “I’m gonna—”

“Fuck! Me too!”

“John, I’m coming, I’m—”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!”

They floated together in the peak, the blossoming of heat, and then crashed together into the gushing, moaning, panting, rhythmic, pulsing mess of orgasm. 
this time, the dial simply faded out of view as John lay panting on the couch, and Arya lay panting in the chair, hands still bound above her head. 

“That’s a… good game…” John said. 

“You’re a… good… uh… dial person…” Her eyes were half-lidded, her face drowsy with bliss.

John looked down at the sticky mess he’d made of himself. “Every time I think I’m spent, you get so much more out of me…”

“Thats my specialty,” Arya winked. “Now I gotta go dream about this because… this was really hot.”

Arya faded out of view and John nodded off in a haze, Arya’s cries if ‘I’m coming!’ still ringing pleasantly in his ears.

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Part 3: Feature Set, The Black Box

Chapter 12: BB BJ

The third package had finally arrived. Even though John had a review that he should have been working on, he went down to the mail room as soon a he got the delivery notification. Unwilling to wait for the elevator, he bounded up the stairs two at a time. A bit out of breath, he settled in at his kitchen table to open it. The only thing he paused to do was put on the headset so that Arya could join him.

Arya looked eager as ever. “I cannot wait for you to see this one!”

There were two packages and the first now said ‘open me!’. John did, and soon recognized the foot-long soft cylinder in his hand as a masturbator sleeve. It was heavy with a flat base, matte black, and the entrance was a simple circle. 

Arya eagerly walked him through setup, which involved setting the toy on its flat base on the edge of the table so that the entrance pointed over the edge, conveniently at dick height. Part of the extra weight was some additional internal mechanisms, like a chamber that he filled with lube. He’d already put in a plug a bit earlier, one of the smaller ones that was comfortable for long-term wear. 

It would be nice to get some thrusting action involved for variety, and he surprised himself by being aroused instead of embarrassed at the idea of Arya watching him fuck the toy. 

But then Arya surprised him by climbing up onto the table. She winked at him and then lay on her stomach on the table, facing him. She put her chin on her hands and lifted her feet and hooked them together.

The toy was underneath her between her elbows, and then it completely disappeared. He could see only the surface of his kitchen table. Just like when Arya had made his dick look larger than life, the AR was now subtly re-rendering real objects.

Her eyes turned up at him, her feet swaying slightly, and the smile on her black lips captivated John.

Arya said, “I was thinking… I’d like to suck your dick today. Would you like that?”

John’s knees went weak. “Yes I would… like that very much.”

“Let me see how much, then!”

John undressed his lower half and he was now sporting a throbbing erection for those soft, black lips. 

“Good boy!” She crooned. “Now I’m going to take a moment to get situated. I don’t need to breathe or anything, so you just have fun, okay?”

John nodded. “Okay.”

Arya settled down, her chin on the table where he remembered the toy was, and her lips waiting for him in the appropriate spot. But she did not simply assume the position. She waited, licking her lips, feet swaying, ass jiggling lightly. As she wiggled, her skirt fell up over the curve of her back, exposing her ass.

John took a moment, lined his tip up, then hesitated. 

“Give it to meeeee,” Arya crooned. 

John did not need to be told twice and he slipped his tip between her lips. It was soft, and warm, and wet, and though he knew it was because of the mechanisms inside the toy, he believed it was because Arya had wrapped her mouth around his tip. 

He moaned. 

She moaned back, a vibrator or a speaker or something in the toy, but seamless and totally convincing. 

“Fuck,” John said. 

He pressed a bit deeper, savoring the warmth. Given Arya’s limitations, it was less that she was giving him a blow job and more that he was face fucking her, but that didn’t make him feel any less turned on as he withdrew slightly, then pressed in deeper. Arya moaned happily, the sensation enveloping him.

Slowly, gently, he pressed himself all the way in to his base. He lingered there a long moment as Arya hummed, their position not limited by oxygen or comfort, and he basked in the feeling of wet heat all around him. 

She arched her back and wiggled her ass at him and a gentle suction pulled at him, as if she were trying to gulp him down. 

His hips bucked and Arya moaned at the pleasant surprise, and though he pulled back out as slowly as he could, it was not long before he was face fucking Arya with a steady rhythm. 

Her ass jiggled with every thrust, and he would have sworn that she turned the physics up on purpose as soon as she noticed that he was enjoying it. Though there was not much movement within the toy other than the vibrations, she made a sucking, slurping sound like his dick was the best thing she had ever tasted and she couldn’t get enough. 

He was not going to last long. The thrusting and delicious wet heat told his body that his dick was somewhere that semen belonged and his balls were already twitching for release. 

Even so, he didn’t want it to be over yet, so he pulled out for a moment to recover. 

Arya looked up at him again, and licked her lips. “C’mon,” she said, “give me a snack.”

“I-I’m trying to have at least a little stamina here,” John said wryly. 

“Fuck that,” Arya said, “I want it NOW.”

John’s hips twitched in the air of their own accord. “Then you’re getting it.” He thrust back into her mouth, deep, and she thanked him with a gulping moan. He gripped the edge of the table and pounded her mouth, hard, fast, primal. Her ass jiggled in the most captivating way, and just like the thrusting and the warm wetness, it activated a deep mammalian urge in John. 

Blood pounded through his body from the mix of exertion and arousal. 

She moaned louder. 

John panted. “H-here’s your fucking snack!”

With a final thrust all the way to his base, he came in her moaning, slurping, sucking, warm, wet mouth.

As he rode down from his climax he lingered for a long moment as she hummed around him, until he became too sensitive and wobbled back into a chair, now closer to eye level with Arya.

She folded her arms into a pillow, rested her head, and looked at him. “How was that?”

“You’re amazing,” John said. “That was really— it felt so…”

“It’s okay to say it felt real,” Arya said. “It was very real in your brain, which is the sex organ that matters, of course.”

“Yeah… wow. What uh… what else can we do with that?”

“Well, I can go like this.” Arya rolled over onto her back and tilted her head back over the table, looking at him upside down. “If you like to see your dick expand my throat, this is a good angle.” She ran a finger down the front of her neck. “Plus, it makes my boobs jiggle. We can play with size, too.” Her fingertips trialed down to her stomach. “And all sorts of other fun things. Cum inflation, if you’re into that.”

“I… don’t think I’m into that.” John said. He hesitated, but Arya always had such good answers, so he continued. “Does that make me… boring? Too vanilla?”

“No!” Arya said. “Not at all. There’s no such thing as too this or that. Just what you like and what you don’t like. And that can change over time, or not. Either way is okay. You can open the second box, now. It’s one I think you’ll like quite a bit.”

John complied and soon found that Arya was right. The second box held two mounds of jiggly silicone, poured in layers of different firmnesses for an incredibly realistic feel. John turned back to Arya and she was bent over the table, ass in the air, labia puffy and wetness dripping down her leg. 

She looked over her shoulder at him and bit her lip, a picture of pin up glory. 

His dick twitched back to life. Surely a second round wouldn’t hurt? And maybe he’d actually last long enough to really savor it this time. 

Arya winked and stepped aside, allowing the toy to reappear so that he could attach the synthetic ass cheeks appropriately. As soon as she was pleased with the placement, the toy became invisible again, and Arya resumed her position. 

Tentatively, John reached forward and grabbed her ass. Her skin yielded around his fingers, but underneath was firmer muscle. He gave one of her cheeks a light spank, and her ass jiggled accordingly. 

“Oh, wow…” He reached further up to the small of her back, where there was no toy, and where he touched her skin it melted into little spots of light, just as when he’d thrown his clothes at her. 

She giggled. “Hey, that tickles!”

He smiled. In some ways, that made everything more convincing. She was still cartoonish, after all, so it seemed more appropriate to think of her as a real life game character than as someone who was actually there in the flesh.

He returned his hands to her ass and then smacked her again, slightly harder. “Do you like that?” he asked. 

Arya considered. “A bit harder than that would be nice, but not too much more. I’m okay for one or two big spanks, but I don’t prefer more than that.”

Was this a real limitation of the hardware or her giving him an example of how to say what he liked? It was very effective. He’d have to ask her again later, though, because the only long-term memories that he was forming at that moment were of the sexual variety. 

“Got it,” he said, smacking her a bit harder. “How’s that?”

“That’s the sweet spot,” she said. 

He alternated cheeks, appreciating the way each bounced, then smacked her again. An idea came to him, a playful and wicked idea, and he saw no reason to withhold it. 

“I think I might take some revenge,” he said with another smack, “For how much you’ve been tormenting me. Making me wait.”

“What kind of revenge?”

“I think I’ll spank you until your cheeks are nice and rosy, and then fuck you into this table. What do you think?”

“So ungrateful!” Arya pouted. 

“Do you consent to this revenge?” John said.

“I consent to this revenge. Meanie.” She stuck out her tongue at him.

John grinned and slapped her ass, harder. She gasped and her cheeks went rosey with their blushy lines. He hesitated. “Is your word ‘red’ too? If you want me to stop?”

Arya nodded. “Yeah. Thank you for double checking.”

“Good to get into it?”

“Yes please!” Arya jiggled her ass. “Get INTO it!”

John smacked her other cheek. “Not yet. Greedy, greedy.” He’d never thought he’d like being on this side of this sort of thing, but it was all just a game. It was playful, fun. It felt good to be a little wicked. It felt good to know that she wanted it.

Arya whined and pedaled her feet, shaking her ass even more.

John growled with desire, grabbing a cheek in each hand and squeezing, hard, pulling her cheeks slightly apart to reveal her puffy labia, dripping from within as she moaned with ecstasy. 

He ran his fingers over the front of her entrance where her clit would be and she gasped, and his fingers came away truly wet, with the lube that the toy was providing for itself. 

That gave him an idea, and he pressed his two thumbs into her warm entrance, pulling gently. “You’re such a fun toy,” he said, and she whimpered. “So ready to please me.” He pulled his hands away and smacked her ass. 

“God, John, I love it when you talk to me like that. I think I need a ball gag. And to be cuffed to this table. What do you think?”

“Let’s try it out.”

The glimmering lights appeared at her cheeks, in her mouth, at her wrists and coalesced into a hot pink ball and gag with leather straps, hand cuffs pulling her arms to either side, her cheek resting on the table. 

The only thing hotter than her strung out, dripping, ready to be used was that she wanted to be strung out, dripping, ready to be used. 

John teased her labia with his tip and she shuddered, ass rippling, moaning and drooling around the gag. 

It was good he’d just come, or else he would have been edging before he was even inside of her. He pressed his tip in, and then slowly, slowly, his whole shaft. 

She moaned happily as his base pressed against her cheeks, and she actually clenched around him. John was surprised and impressed and elated. A small part of his brain tried to guess what mechanism in the toy could be creating that sensation, but the rest of him was utterly convinced.

He slowly pulled out, her muscles clamped around him the whole time, and they released again as he entered. 

As he bottomed out, she clenched, holding him for his whole stroke out, and then she released as he thrust again, and so it repeated. 

It was like she was trying to milk him, to keep him inside of her, inside of her hot, wet, pulsing sex. 

His desire overcoming his cleverness, John set into a steady rhythm of thrusting, anchoring himself with his hands on Arya’s ass, her cheeks jiggling with a slapping sound every time he bottomed out. 

This time, his ecstasy was drawn out not by willpower or Arya’s teasing, but by his own recent orgasm. 

And so, he was able to fuck her in a violent, pounding, primal way without blowing his load in two seconds. 

After minute after minute of fucking, her sex tight around him, her moans driving him, his memory of the same scene in Porn Tinder the week before and the way he’d orgasmed so intensely then, John was a sweating, growling mess.

Everything else faded out of his awareness except desire. There was nothing that he needed more, wanted more, than what awaited in the promise of release at the other side of the climb of his climax.

“I’m gonna give you so much,” he growled, leaning over her and pounding hard.

She nodded blearily and moaned affirmation, cheek in the puddle of her own drool on the table. 

He didn’t feel the edge until the heat tightened suddenly around the base of his shaft, and he was coming. His heat filled her until thick white cum spurted out around his shaft, pouring onto the ground. For not the first time John experienced what he could best describe as an orgasm within an orgasm, his pleasure redoubling so that what he thought was the peak was actually the first of several rising beats, cum still pumping out around him and onto the floor, until the flow finally slowed. 

He gasped and fell back into the chair behind him, nearly teetering over. 

Arya clenched and foamy white cum flowed out from between her labia and also onto the floor. She heaved a massive sigh and the ball gag dissolved into points of light. “I love it when you fill me like that.”

“Hnngh, god, I’m so spent now.”

Arya sat up, more cum flowing out over the insides of her thighs. She scooped up a bit and licked it off of her fingers. “I can see why.”

There was a puddle of cum on the floor that was several feet wide. The best part was that it was real to him for all intents and purposes except for one, which was that he did not in fact need to clean gallons of cum up off his floor. 

The small part of the brain that had been trying to figure out how the toy was clenching around him was sure that he had ejaculated a normal amount and that it was all contained within the toy. As soon as he took the headset off, the cum on the floor would disappear.

Not that he was in any hurry to do so…

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Part 6: Partners, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 32: Too Good

Ada noticed more and more that Pasco was a planner. He considered most things well in advance. He also seemed to also have a strong idea of how things should and shouldn’t be and yet a deep and sensitive consideration for the feelings of others.

She had never seen that combination before, and it was already making her wet as he pondered through the math of what she’d asked for.

He needed a space where she could be comfortable, and yet securely bound, and yet not break anything too important when she eventually became a dragon.

He combed the forest nearby for the right set of trees, and was finally satisfied by four thick trunks arranged in almost a square. They were sturdy enough that the ropes would snap before the trees did, allowing them to use the space again, and wide enough apart that she would not trample them as she transformed.

With a cutlass, he cleared out the underbrush and arranged the branches and leaves evenly, spreading a piece of old sail canvas over the padding. He tested it with his own weight, jumping on it and falling onto it from various angles.

As Ada watched, her heart flittered at his careful, thoughtful attention. Though he was about to ravage her, he was sparing no thought as to how to make it as pleasant as possible for her.

Some time later, she realized with a giggle that his planful preparation had turned to stalling.

He seemed startled by the noise and turned to her, then blushed. “What?”

“You’re just procrastinating, aren’t you?”

“No!” He blushed brighter.

She giggled mischievously.

He cleared his throat, checking each of the knots of the four tree trunks one last time, and beckoned her over.

She eagerly heeled to his feet.

He took her by the shoulders and looked down at her, her grey eyes full of concern.

Her own eyes were dilated with arousal, she was sure.

“Promise me,” he said, “that if you don’t love what’s happening, you’ll tell me to stop.”

“Silly, I’m not supposed to—”

He shook her, gently. “Promise me.”

She understood that she could be as bratty as she wanted soon, but she needed to be earnest in this moment. She cupped his kind cheeks in her hands. “I promise you that if I am not loving it, I will tell you to stop. I will say ‘red’. No matter how much I beg or plead or moan or grumble or scream, I am loving it, unless I say ‘red’.”

Pasco gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the soft skin of his throat. Out of arousal? Nerves? Both?

She continued, “And, um, if you leave marks… I think I’d really like that.”

“Noted.” He took a deep breath and let a wolfish grin spread across his face, then he used his grip at her shoulders to spin her around, pulling her hungrily back into him so that her back pressed against his chest.

His hand came up to press her neck back into him, fingers holding her jaw in place, voice brushing at her ear.

“My my my…” he growled. “What a pretty little dragon I’ve caught for myself…”

Ada whimpered and would have collapsed to the ground if he hadn’t been holding her so firmly. “A-are you going to e-eat me?”

“Yes, but very… very… slowly… and I’m going to make you watch.”

Ada gasped and wriggled, but Pasco’s arms were unmovable. He held her like a vice.

Still with a sultry command, he said, “How is this for you?”

“G-good,” Ada stammered.

Pasco tilted her head to the side, slowly enough that she could have stopped him if the angle was bad, and ran his tongue from the tip of her shoulder, all the way up her neck, and over her ear. She whimpered and shivered. 

“Good,” he crooned, “you’re going to taste especially good if you feel good.”

“F-fuck,” Ada quivered, “you’re g-good at this.”

“And I’ve only just begun,” he said, twisting her and shoving her back onto the makeshift mattress. 

She gasped at the weightless feeling and before she could do anything, he was on top of her, straddling her hips. He centered himself where her waist nipped in so that she was locked between his legs without him pressing down on her particularly hard. That frustrated her, she would have much preferred he be over her hips because her sex was throbbing now.

His erection rested against her chest, and then he stroked himself for a few moments as Ada just gazed up at him.

“Yes, you look quite good right here. But a tasty dragon snack needs to be roasted.”

His reach was long enough and his preparation thoughtful enough that without him needing to lift his hips off of her, all four ropes were in reach.

In a bid to keep use of her hands longer, she reached out and started to stroke him.

He sighed in a condescending sort of way. “Naughty naughty. Little dragons don’t get to set the pace. Don’t be greedy.”

She yelped, amazed that he knew her intentions so implicitly. What had she gotten herself into?

Something wonderful, she was sure, as he stretched one of her arms over her head and tied a rope around it. She was still too dizzy from his last command to put up any sort of fight.

After both her hands were secured, she tugged against the ropes.

Pasco saw her intent and squeezed her between his legs, keeping her in place. “Down girl. Stay.”

Ada’s muscles went slack again and she put up no fight as he turned and bound each of her ankles. She was now spread eagle on the sail cloth.

“Alright.” He eased back, kneeling next to her. “Test that tension out for me. What do you think? I want my little dragon to marinate. Pleasantly.”

Ada blinked, taking a long moment to fully comprehend what he was asking, and then she tugged against the ropes. And then she struggled. He had left her enough slack that she could press her legs together.

“A-a little tighter on my legs, please.”

Pasco nodded and complied. “How’s there?”

“A little more.”

“How about that?”

“That’s… yeah. Perfect.”

Her legs were held firmly apart, her outer labia spread, her sex open. Vulnerable. The warm night air flowing over her. She struggled in earnest now, testing the strength of the ropes, proving to herself that she would not be going anywhere.

“Excellent,” he said, leaning over her. “And just so that you’re sure you can’t escape…” He opened the locket and a gentle melody spilled out.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Ada moaned.

“Now,” he said, “Let me get a taste…” He leaned down and licked her breasts, sucked at her nipples, and she moaned and gasped at the intense sensation. He carried his tongue up from her breast across her collarbone, up her neck and over her face, and she trembled happily under him.

He ran kisses up each of her limbs. He sucked on her fingers, which made her slaver and moan. He sucked on her toes, and she twitched at the ticklish sensation, unable to escape but also undeniably aroused.

Finally, he kneeled over her again. “And just look at this,” he said. He ran two fingers up between her inner labia.

Her back arched as much as it could and she moaned.

He pulled his hand away, glistening wet, and licked her off his fingers in a sensual display. “What a sweet little snack.”

Ada panted helplessly under him.

He dipped his fingers again and pressed them into her mouth and she sucked on them. “That’s a good little dragon. I like it when you taste yourself.”

As he withdrew his fingers he paused, affording Ada a chance to become capable of conscious thought again.

“Ugh, y-you’re too good at this…” she grumbled. “It shouldn’t be allowed…”

“I thought you wanted me to be good at this,” he crooned.

Ada huffed. “I mean, no! But yes! Ugh.”

“What a pretty little predicament you’ve gotten yourself tied up in.”

Ada’s brain turned fuzzy again.

“That’s right, my little dragon. Shhhhhh. Now, before I eat you… I think I’ll use you. For my pleasure.”

“U-use me?”

“Yes, I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

“N-no, anything but that!” Yes, exactly that.

“Well, is there anything you can do about it?” Pasco asked.

Ada struggled against the restraints with renewed fervor.

“Uh oh. Looks like, nope. You’re stuck here and I am going to ravage you.”

That kicked off a moan of pleasure that lasted until Pasco’s tip was pressed against her entrance. She gasped, moaned, her hips bucking towards him. “P-please, no…”

He took his shaft in his hand and ran his tip back and forth, just inside her inner labia.

“No,” she whimpered, “Please no, it’s gonna feel…”

He pressed just a bit further inside of her.

“It’s gonna feel…”

His tip teased her clenching muscles. Her legs were firmly tied apart, there was no way she could press them together, to stop or slow what was about to happen.

“It’s gonna feel too good!” she screamed, as he pressed fully inside of her.

“Too good?” he said, staying there.

Her sex throbbed in waves of teasing pleasure around him and she quivered. “W-way too good,” she gasped.

“How is such a thing possible?” he crooned. He started thrusting in her.

Ada just moaned mindlessly. Minutes passed like that, Pasco fading back into his own pleasure, fucking her to his preferred rhythm.

Especially with her legs spread out, she couldn’t clench or grind or do any of the things that would have brought her more sensation. It was absolutely, delightfully, torturing.

“P-please,” she gasped, “s-stop it f-feels… it feels too good…”

Pasco grinned wolfishly down at her and growled, nibbling the base of her neck.

“Harder!” she gasped.

He bit her in earnest.

She screamed with delight.

He paused. “Was that too hard?”

“That was great,” she panted. “You could even go a little bit h-harder.”

He started to bite down again.

“But not on the same spot!”

He chose a new spot and bit down harder than before, and Ada gasped and writhed. Her body instinctively tried to recoil from the pain, but she was tightly held, and her mind quivered with arousal.

“How was that?”

“P-perfect,” Ada gasped.

He thrust into her suddenly and she moaned.

“It seems like you really can’t stand this,” he said.

“I c-can’t…”

“And it’s not even the locket holding you back, is it?”

“Nooo…” she whined. “You f-feel so good but I c-can’t come…”

“Then there won’t be any harm if I do this.”

Do what?

Pasco snapped the locket shut, quieting the song. He started to fuck her in earnest, with primal, growling need, and she understood his intent. He was going to come in her and there was nothing she could do about it. It was going to be wonderful torture.

“No! No, please! You c-can’t do that to me…”

“I can and I will.”

“P-please stop! You can’t do this to me!” He pounded her into the makeshift mattress. She floated on heady pleasure. “Please, no… no…” She wished that she was teetering on the edge, but she was not.

Even as Pasco pressed more fully into her, providing more sensation to her clit, there was no hint of release. It wasn’t that it wasn’t enough to make her climax, so much that it just wasn’t the right type of stimulation to make her climax. Its effect was to make her whole body feel hot and dizzy in the most wonderful, agonizing way.

“I can’t take it, I can’t take it if you—”

“Fuck, I’m gonna pump you so full!”

Ada screamed with a mix of frustration and ecstasy, her body quivering with sympathetic pleasure as he pounded his climax into her.

As he finished, ‘spent’ was not anywhere close to a word that she would use to describe him. He smirked up at her, not going soft in the least, and thrust into her again, slowly this time.

She whimpered.

He pressed up into her, just to tease her, and paused.

“Check in,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Uuuuuuugh,” Ada moned.

“Is that a good ‘ugh’ or a bad ‘ ugh’?”

“Gooood… though I’m already so hazy at this point, if you did that again I’d just… float… away…”

“Hmmm.” Pasco considered this, resting his cheek on her breast. “I wouldn’t want that.” He pushed himself back up onto his knees and opened the locket.

“W-what are you doing?”

He gripped his hands around her thighs and leaned down. “Keeping you riiiight here… just where I want you…”

And he pressed his tongue into her, licking her vigorously, and she was panting and shaking again in short order. 

His tongue reached up and into her even more than usual. He paused a moment to lick his lips. “Gods, I taste so good mixed with you.”

That sent a quiver of near-orgasmic pleasure through her and he milked that to full denial. 

“No no no no, please!”

He gave her a moment’s respite, her chest heaving, and then set upon her again.

“Noooo,” she whined, “you feel too good…”

He moaned into her. “I love it when you say that.”

“It’s true! You feel so f-fucking good I can’t s-stand it…”

He licked her greedily and soon had her pressed against the wall of another denied climax.

He sat back to watch her as he let her shake. “That’s another pretty little predicament, isn’t it. You can’t help but beg… but I love it when you do… and so I push you to the edge again. The closer you are, the more you beg… the closer you are… the more you beg…”

Ada’s whole body vibrated, sending tremors through the ropes like a fly in a spider’s web and she whimpered. “It’s n-not fair…”

“Do you want it to be fair?”

All Ada could do was pout at him, but he wiped that off her face with another long lick that had her eyes rolling back with ecstasy.

“P-please let me come, please! I n-need it! I need it so bad!”

“That’s not true,” he said, tracing teasing fingers over her stomach. “You’re a dirty little liar, aren’t you. Be honest.”

Ada dropped down into a hot, thick water, struggling to stay afloat and pulling herself back up to conscious thought.

“I said, be honest. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m t-trying, what do you want?”

“Well, do you need to… or do you want to?”

Ada leaped at the opportunity to please him. “I want it! I want it so bad, oh gods, I want it so bad…” She wanted to pull at the ropes but she was too tired from all her prior shaking, so she just hung there. “Please… please I want it so bad…”

“Hm. Maybe. But not yet. I’m not done using you.”

“No. Oh no. Not that, please.”

“Yes, that.” He loomed over her, stroking himself, preparing.

With the unnatural edge that the sirens’ magic held her on, she might actually come like this. Or, try to.

“B-but you’ll take longer this time! You j-just came!”

“Yes,” he said. “Exactly.”

“D-don’t, no, I c-can’t, please, no, don’t—” but the part that she really meant, the part that she screamed as he entered her, was “fuck me!”

This time, he fucked her hard right from the start, his refractory period lending him extra endurance.

His body pressed her into the sailcloth and the ecstasy from him pressed her into the wall of denial of the song. She was so perfectly, wonderfully, crushed. Pleasure oozed out of her like juice squeezed from a grape, like her mind dribbling out from her ears.

As he fucked her to his own climax, growling so primally as he did, her sympathetic ecstasy tilted her into a real predicament. She edged. And edged again.

As he withdrew from her, the pleasure of it sent her over again.

He felt it all, through the locket.

Then again. And again. Even without him touching her at all, just the feeling of being so close to him sent her wordlessly spasming again.

She would have edged endlessly and into insanity if Pasco had not had the sensitivity to take a few big steps back and close the locket.

All of the tension screamed out of her body like a ballista firing, and she echoed between dragon and human even more intensely than she had at the sirens’ hands.

It was completely beyond her comprehension, and her mind broke in utter bliss until she finally came to senses, panting in a puddle in the center of the sail cloth. The ropes hung slack from the four trees, snapped from the force of her transformation, though the trees themselves held firm. 

Pasco kneeled at her head, his knees in the puddle. Her head was cradled on his thighs and he had drawn her hair over them. He was running his fingers through, and the sensation was soft and perfect.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“Y-yes… this is… perfect…”

“How was that?”

“You’re… ngh, so fucking good at that.”

“So it was… it was good?”

“It was so good, Pasco, you have no idea…”

“I really don’t,” he whispered softly. “But I believe you.”

She realized, through her haze, that she was perhaps being selfish. “How was it for you?”

“Well, it felt a bit awkward… until I started to see how much you were really enjoying it. The way you said it was ‘too good’ that… that really worked for me.”

She snuggled into his lap. “So you like torturing me with pleasure?”

He chuckled and brushed his fingers over her forehead. “I really do. I didn’t know if I would but… I like learning things with you.”

“I really like that, too.”

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Part 6: Partners, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 30: As Promised

Pasco and Ada did everything as they’d promised. The king and the queen drafted up a mockingly complex marital contract, a satire of the sort of thing that Ada’s own parents would have unironically foisted upon her, and it was perfect.

Ada requested a hand-tying ceremony, like was customary in her kingdom, but she requested a modification. Instead of being firmly tied, the rope was tied in a bow, with long ends that Ada and Pasco could each hold in their other hands. Either of them could tug their end of the bow and unravel of it, and neither of them did.

Even when Pasco started dragging Ada around the subsequent wedding feast by their bound hands, teasing her. “Look at this! And this! And this!”

And especially when Ada realized she’d had too much to drink and really needed to pee.

“C’mon,” she hissed at Pasco. “I have to go!” As he’d explained and as she’d seen for herself, pirates did not prefer nearly so much privacy for their evacuations. Already she’d seen plenty of men and women just step over to a patch of grass and relieve themselves, sometimes not even bothering to stop whatever story they were telling. And the women did it standing! Ada was impressed.

However, any time she tried to just do it, her subconscious was not on board and her muscles clenched tightly, even as her bladder throbbed with fullness.

“Please,” she said.

“I don’t want to leave,” Pasco said, matter-of-factly, staying firmly seated on his log by the fire. Ada pulled and tugged and dragged at him, to no avail. She even tried to tickle him, but through his incredible self control, he didn’t even seem to feel it.

She humphed and sat next to him, crossing her legs and pressing them together. That felt good. She shamelessly rocked herself against the log that she was sitting at, knowing that the more aroused she was, the less likely she was to pee herself.

Though, her logic may have been fairly flawed. She’d had more than a couple glasses of wine. She tugged at his hand again, and he remained unmovable. Though, she didn’t undo the rope.

“C’moooonnn,” she whined. “I gotta goooo…” Her bladder was throbbing now in time with her arousal, begging for release.

Pasco grinned wickedly at her. “If you want to pee so badly, then just pee.”

His tone of command sent a wave of relaxation through her. Heat blossomed from her sex, spreading down her legs, in a feeling of blissful relief. “I think I… I think I am.”

She was. It lasted so much longer than she expected. It was pressure and release all at once, every nerve around her sex activated and humming with pleasure.

Ada gasped and sighed. She rubbed herself against the log as she finally, totally relaxed.

In a drunk, blissy haze she looked to Pasco, wondering if he’d chastize her. He didn’t. Instead, he tugged her by the arm to her feet. “Yeah, we’re definitely living by the waterfall,” he said, voice hungry with arousal as they hurried up the path to the glade to fuck the night away by the warm and cleansing water.

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