The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 1 — the gift

Camille was a witch and a rather good one. She liked to use her majik to make people feel better, and this would be no exception. She had met a rather nice man in the elevator of her best girlfriend’s apartments months back, and they had corresponded. They had even hung out a few times, but, being a witch, they were not meant to be, no matter how handsome he was. She also didn’t want to give him any reason to fall in love with her. He was such a nice guy, and she never wanted to let him down like that. It would be so easy just to forget she was a witch for a few months and live as his girlfriend, him never knowing they could not be. But she refused to use majik directly on him, which made fucking him for a few weeks, then majikly making him forget, right out of the question. Her majik could do much harm, and much good. It was also easy for simple-seeming things to get out of hand with majik, but she always managed to find a solution, and she couldn’t see any way that this could go poorly... at least she couldn’t think of anything that she couldn’t handle with majik.

Camille sat next to him, looking into his eyes longingly. He didn’t see it; she was using her witchs’ glamour to hide her emotions from him. If he could see her genuine emotion right this second, he would surely throw her down ionately, rip off her clothes... then... he would find out about her current predicament. There was no explaining away what was between her legs—or what wasn’t at the moment.

What did you get the man who seemed to have everything he wanted? And, other than having a small apartment, he really did seem to want for nothing but companionship.

Since she was hiding her excitement and lust, from his point of view, Camille seemed to hand him his birthday present calmly. She had added a bit of flair to his gift with majik, but with any luck, he wouldn’t notice. She hadn’t used majik directly on him; it was a bit of a fine line, though, since the majik she placed on the present was affecting him, reducing his inhibitions more effectively than the 2 glasses of wine he had already sipped. She didn’t need him acting out the response he felt she would expect; she wanted his honest opinion about her gift without it being hidden by his morals or expectations of “politeness.” She was allowed to hide her emotions from him, but he wasn’t allowed to hide them from her.

As he opened the present, she could see the excitement in his eyes, and when he figured out what it was, he showed just a hint of desire before managing to push the expression off of his face. A feat of control she was quite surprised at considering the wine and majik. At least he didn’t hand it back to her, pretending not to want such a lavish and obviously sexual gift. Her majik had seen to that, he was genuinely impressed and he liked his present.

“Happy Birthday. This will have to do until I can find you a girlfriend.” She hoped that this would give a certain amount of separation between them sexually, if he got any ideas about falling for her, or that she was somehow hitting on him.

In the box was the most life-like male fuck toy he had ever seen, laying in a bed of the most beautiful ruby-red velvet. She could see so many expressions on his face as he examined it with his eyes. She hoped he would touch it soon! The toy looked a lot like a fleshlight, except that it didn’t have a hard plastic outer shell. Neither did it look, feel, or smell like rubber. It looked like a real pussy, surrounded by a velvety soft, perfect shell of skin. It would feel like heaven, and it had a pleasant scent of strawberries. The soft “shell” even had what looked like finger slots for a better grip. Surely he must want to touch it!

His inhibitions broke. He didn’t reach into the box and grab it around the handhold as she expected. Instead, he lightly slid his finger over the pussy lips. She moaned out loud. He looked up at her, directly into her eyes. She knew that he hadn’t heard her though, she had her glamour turned up as high as it would go. He didn’t see the look of unbridled expectation on her face. He didn’t see her biting her lip, hiding the fact that she had moaned like a hot slut. He looked puzzled and impressed for just a moment as if he had heard her. But he was probably just wondering how much she had paid for such a quality toy, and he was probably wondering, just for a split second, if it was a replica of her own pussy. It wasn’t a replica. It was her actual pussy! There was nothing between her legs right now, he held her sex in his hands and didn’t even know it. She hoped he would touch it again, she needed to feel him touch it. She needed to know he wanted it.

He seemed to be stalling as he looked down at it to see its perfection for a second time. Oh, she wanted him to touch it again so badly that her heart hurt. She wanted to watch him play with it while feeling it. But, she knew he would probably be “polite” by not touching it more in front of her, even with her inhibition spell washing over him. She even had the thought to reach out and pet her pussy lips lighly, maybe finger her own clit, just to show him how it was done, but one look in his eyes and she knew that he knew what to do with such a gift, and that he was already planning when to do it.

“What do you think?”

He took a moment to contemplate... without saying anything, he leaned forward and removed the metal u-shaped gold band from his wine glass. On a side note; it was just the two of them in his house right now. He hadn’t needed to put markers on their wine glasses, but he probably thought them to be fancy and polite, and she thought they were cute. He had chosen a little flower for hers tonight, and his had a single red bead on it. He bent the small band slightly, adjusting it since it had been stretched out a bit, having been unceremoniously pulled off of his wine glass’s stem. Then she watched, a bit bewildered, as he carefully pulled back the labia minora covering her clit and gently slit the metal under so that the rounded ends of the U pinched lightly on her clit. He let the labia enclose the metal, and she looked down to see just the tiny red bead poking out, and a flash of gold. She could feel it pinching her clit, and it was thrilling. He had no idea what he had just done, and now she was thinking twice about lending her precious pussy to him. What if he got creative and started adding real piercings? Well, she could make sure that there would be no pain, and she could heal any damage he did... but she was now starting to see new angles to her plan that she had no contingency for. Without making a scene or messing things up though, she only had two choices right now anyway.

She could either take it from him now, by convincing, or by majik. Or she could wait until he fucked her. Only once he had cum in her sufficiently could she majikly summon her sex back to her. She knew the risks, but the newly present pressure of this makeshift clit jewelry made her fully aware of what was at stake and just how HOT that was! She already wanted to fuck him. And if she actually had a pussy right now and not only a blank area of featureless skin, she might have!

Oh, the torture! She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to finger her sex, find out that it was already lubricated, maybe spread her wetness over her clit and massage it. She saw no reason that he would take the time to pleasure the toy, but maybe, just maybe, if he was trying to impress her sexually, he could hold it while they talked and play with it nonchalantly, seductively, trying to woo her. He wouldn’t know that he had already won her. It would look so damned HOT to see him finger fucking her and massaging her clit, knowing that she couldn’t stop him without majik or making a scene.

“Now, look. Be nice to it, be gentle to it, and treat it real kind like, and it will last a lot longer.” What she meant was, ‘if you make me come, I’ll let you keep my pussy a bit longer.’ But, of course, she had not said that. If she didn’t love it as much as she thought, she could summon her pussy back any time after he fucked her. Or, she could use majik to come to sneak past his non-majikal alarm system and steal her lady-bits away in the dark of night while he slept.

“I won’t be surprised if you misplace it. Just make sure you’ve gotten some joy from it before you lose it!” What she meant here was ‘I’ll take it back someday, and you’ll wonder WTF happened to be the best sex toy you’ve ever had.’ But, of course, she had not said that either.

As she watched him for more suppressed expressions and emotions and hid her own behind her glamour, she wondered what it would feel like to be lifted up. She had designed the spell so that she could not feel anything that she did to it. It would have been too distracting to pack it up, wrap it in the red velvet, and carry it over here. But now that he was manipulating the box, she could feel the heft of lightheadedness of being lifted from his lap then lowered to the table. Even if he put her back in the box himself, she would not feel the velvet; in fact, she wouldn’t be able to feel her sex at all when he was not in with it or its contents. That way, if he hid her—unboxed and unprotected—under his pillow or mattress—she wouldn’t feel a weird weight on her all day or whatever. She didn’t need that kind of distraction. She only wanted to feel when he was directly interacting with her.

They talked a bit longer. He was asking her if she had any leads for a girlfriend for him. He even winked when he said she could use her ‘womanly magic.’ She wasn’t sure if he was winking at her as in, for her to be his girlfriend, or if he was winking at her just to be cute, but he surely couldn’t think she was a real witch. Real witches didn’t exist (wink, wink). If he had thought she was a witch, he would have surely asked her for all the ridiculous things non-majikal people asked for. This was such a turn-off for her. She would wipe their memory of it, then move on. She didn’t like having friends that she had been forced to majik in any way. She wanted raw, genuine friendships with people that didn’t think she was a witch. And according to the code, and just general good street smarts, it was not safe to let non-majikal people know what she was, even as powerful as she was.

Eventually, her wine ran low. Every time she took a draft of her wine, the marker on her glass—with the tiny little white flower—would slide up and down the stem. So much symbology there, but nothing that seemed to portent some unknown danger she could not handle. Witches had to watch out for the signs around them at all times. She went through the symbology in her mind, and they all seemed pretty obvious. The small gold ring on her glass slid up and down the shaft of the wine glass every time she took of it. It was much like how her sex would slide up and down his shaft if he fucked her. No unexpected portent there. His ring was no longer fucking his wine glass, but her pussy was laying on the table with the ring pinching her clit, of course, it wasn’t fucking right now. The white of the flower on her ring could mean new love, or virginity. He could love using the toy, she could love him using her, but more likely, the white of the flower pendant referred to their first sexual experience together or the first use of her disembodied pussy. The gold of the metal could spell problems, gold could bind witches, but this was not real gold, and neither was the one he had put on her clit, or she would have felt it. More likely, the gold was a portent that she was bound to this game until he saw it through. She did feel the pressure on her clit, though, but it didn’t feel majikal; it just felt like she was being pinched lightly by a metal clip. The clit clip caused lasting pleasure even in its stillness, but nothing portentous, maybe this would have more meaning later?

She was slightly concerned though since he was not touching the toy right now, she should not feel the ring, just as she was not feeling the velvet of the box. Maybe because it was something he had done to her the effect was lasting? Maybe because he was in close enough proximity to it that it still counted as , maybe even just his emotional with the toy was enough to allow her to continue feeling the pleasant pressure. It was starting to distract her. Not so much the light pleasure, but the reasons and portent behind it all. She doubled her effort to maintain her glamour, she didn’t need to ruin this with her own lack of concentration, she was a much better witch than that. Though his handsomeness and confidence were weakening her resolve.

The red bead, though. She could not find a portent to the bead, and that bothered her. Red didn’t seem to mean anything. Beads, by definition, didn’t mean anything except for what they were made with, and this bead was nothing majikal. It was just a plastic red ball peeking out between her lips. The problem was that everything else had had meaning, so the bead should also... unless her lust-addled mind was reading too much into the entire thing. It was just sex, after all... sort of. There was no way someone was hiding the portence from her sight—she was the only witch around—so it would either reveal itself when the time was right, or there was nothing to the entire thing in the first place. Red ball, peeking out from lips, a hint of gold?

Eventually, the conversation about finding him a girlfriend seemed to run stale. She already knew exactly what he wanted in a woman, though she didn’t know if she would ever find the heart to give him away like that. On the other hand... he was a good guy and a friend. If she met someone that matched his desires, she would read the portents and know instantly if the woman was for him. She would not be able to deny him complete happiness if she found his soulmate. For now, though, he could fuck her as much and often as he liked until she couldn’t handle it anymore... assuming he was good enough to make her bother with it. He better be real damned good, too... she would grow tired of not knowing exactly when she would be full of cock. She would also probably get tired of being washed out with water every time he fucked her. How weird to get unpreventable—probably cold and soapy—douche while at work, on the bus, or while trying to sleep. Right now, that sounded AMAZING! But, she would tire of it eventually.

Camille drained the remainder of her wine, tinked her glass against his, set hers down, picked his wine up, and drained it in a gulp. She would be walking home, hopefully a bit drunk, not knowing what would happen next. She needed his drink more than he did. Camille stepped out of his flat and shut the door behind her with a resounding click. It was not like she couldn’t get past a simple mundane lock to get her sex back, but the clicking lock seemed to spell it out for her. She was stuck for it now. The locked door between her and her disembodied adventure seemed almost majikal in nature, more profound than a piece of wood and metal. This was a door she could not again any time soon. Not because of some spell on it, but because of the consequences of it. And because of her waning loss of self control. She needed to leave now, and not come back until this was done, or she needed to extract her bits from his care.

Camille walked down the hall. It honestly didn’t feel weird—not having a pussy—it felt like normal—physically. It was more emotional than anything—a longing—like leaving a lover behind at the train station without having had time to kiss them good-bye. She pressed the down button on the elevator and waited only a moment before the doors opened. As soon as the doors were shut and she was alone, she turned off her glamour. She pressed the first-floor button but felt the elevator lurch up. A second later, the elevator was moving down smoothly, but she was falling faster than expected. Then it hit her. It hit her and slipped past her lips directly into her. It pushed its soft head gently at first, then more insistently. The pressure was intense. She was falling so fast, surely the elevator would the first floor and crash to the parking garage. Surely when she crashed, the cock would pierce all the way through her and come out of her mouth. That’s what it felt like. The thing was huge, and she was tight. She, of course, had designed the toy to be nice and tight for him. The fleshy outer shell of her pussy’s new housing kept her soft wet age tight for him. The elevator continued down, and so did she. How many floors did this building have?! And why wasn’t he fucking into her? He was simply pressing her down on his cock with the consistency of the elevator falling. His cock was slipping into her, but so so so so so so slowly. It was wondrous torture. Surely he couldn’t fit much more into her. How big was he? How deep could he go? Had she made the toy deep enough for him?! Now she was not sure. Just as she felt like he would burst out of the top of the toy’s canal, she felt her ringed clit touch down softly on his public hair. The elevator stopped, the door opened, and she fell out onto the floor, clutching at her chest and stomach, landing hard on her knees but she didn’t feel the pain through the pleasure!

A very nicely-smelling woman’s hair fell around her face. It was not her own hair. Then she was being helped and lifted up off of the floor, but Camille didn’t even look at the women who had stopped to help her... Surely what was happening to her was written all over her face, and she didn’t have it in her at the moment to fire up her glamour. She felt that if she looked this stranger in the face, the woman would see the cock slipping up into her body, filling her, but holding still and steady. Camille needed to get home fast. Every step was a blissful pleasure and emotional agony. She felt as though every er-by would know, though no one could. Even another witch ing-buy would not dare read her unless they thought she was in trouble. They would smell her power from a mile away, do their best to hide from her, and probably chose another path home. Majik didn’t fuck with majik that they didn’t know. Making majikal friends as a powerful witch could be challenging at times. Of course, Camilla was not trying to make friends right now, she was trying to walk straight; she could hardly even stand.

Camille leaned herself against a tree. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she didn’t feel it. Her entire being seemed to be just his cock and the thin layer of herself that surrounded it. Why wasn’t he fucking her!? Didn’t he like it? She could feel his cock swelling inside of her. She looked down instinctively, as it almost felt like she would see her belly bulging. Why did it feel so much larger and more intense than she had expected? It should just feel like a life-like dildo was shoved up inside of her as she walked the streets, but somehow it felt more... just more encoming. She had stopped partly because of the intensity but also because she expected to be fucked, cleaned, and put away. Instead, she was just full.

A sudden movement made her fall into and hug the closest tree in a bit of a panic. She was lifting up into the air like she was full of hot air, surly she would hit her head on an overhead branch, then the world stopped, and she was still on the ground-hugging the tree. And still full of cock, but now she could feel herself bobbing slightly off of the ground, though her feet were planted firmly where she stood. Holding the tree tightly seemed to ground her false senses of motion somewhat. She didn’t care what ers-by would think. She had expected to feel his hands wrapped around her when he lifted her out of the box. She had thought that it would be a warning sign to give her a couple of moments to prepare, but this had happened suddenly, and he hadn’t even been able to wait until she was out of the building to play with his new toy! She could feel his public hair tickling her clit, and she could still feel the metal pinching her there. The pleasure was building in her even though he was not moving much. She imagined that he must have stood up; maybe it was easier to use a masturbator that way? She didn’t know. He wasn’t walking. Surely she would be bobbing more than this. This motion seemed just to be the beating of his heart, making his cock bob with her on it. Good thing she had included a nice little bit of majik so that the orientation of her sex to gravity would not be conveyed. Was he just standing in his living room staring down at her? Had he moved to the bedroom first? Was he about to slip her and his cock between his box spring and mattress to hold her still so he could fuck furiously fast into her with no hands? But he didn’t fuck.

After a short time hugging the tree, looking a fool, she decided to stand up straight and just lean her back against the tree and pretend she was getting over some nausea. She still didn’t have the strength of mind or concentration to turn up her glamour, but no one would really notice anyway. Or they wouldn’t care enough to stop and ask if she was OK... probably. No matter. A simple flick of her finger and a word of majik, and they would walk away satisfied that she was just fine.

Just as Camille was about to take her first step toward home, she felt movement again. It was not nearly as intense as before, but it was apparent that he had grabbed hold of her body and was manipulating it, as the heartbeat bobbing was no longer present. A moment later, she felt snuggled and warm. She felt tighter all around as if he was squeezing her. Good, maybe NOW he would fuck her stupid and be done with it. She didn’t know how much more suspense, pleasure, anticipation, or strange sensations she could handle. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she would march right up to his apartment, bust his door down and use her hand to fuck herself up and down his cock until he came.

Now that things were tighter, she was feeling some kind of motion. Not an indication of her body moving up down left or right, but a motion of something like ocean waves slipping along her skin, tickling her lips and clit. And something that was making the metal pinching her clit shift back and forth like a ship on high seas. He was walking!? Camille started walking as fast as she could. She instinctively tried to match her own steps to the waves she felt. She didn’t need him walking to the window and seeing her standing below his apartment building looking sick and deranged.

She didn’t know if she could handle another elevator ride right now, unless it was a ride up to his apartment, to ride up and down his cock! GRRRRRR. She just wanted to get fucked! She sure as fuck wasn’t going to try to walk up the stairs in her apartment though, so elevator it would be.

How far could he be walking? He didn’t have a treill. The walking would start and stop, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. She looked to her left and saw into a shop. She didn’t actually see the chef preparing an order of food for the customer even though he would have been obvious to anyone else who looked in that window. Instead, Camille saw a vision of herself, standing naked in his apartment, bent at the waist slightly. She was whole again, in the vision, and her pussy was back where it belonged. She was preparing him a home-cooked meal while he was standing behind her, pressed into her ass, busy keeping his cock shoved up inside of her while she worked. He was shirtless, but he was still wearing his jeans. She seemed to see herself from behind in the vision. Most of her visions were from within, but it didn’t bother her at all that this vision was from behind. It let her see his handsome body thrusting his ass towards her to keep his cock in her nice and still, enjoying her body while she cooked for him, but not distracting her too much from her meal prep. The only thing that did seem out of place was the golden collar around her neck. As a witch, she would never wear gold, but the more she looked, she could tell that the collar was not binding her as it was not made of real gold.

The vision in her mind told her a few things: He was probably preparing a meal in real life right now. His cock was definitely buried in her. She was definitely wearing a golden—but not gold—collar on her clit, and she now realized why she felt warm and cuddled. He had pulled his pants up over her pussy, entrapping her within so he could enjoy the feel of his new toy while he cooked. That’s why he was not fucking her, and why all the walking. He was cooking? At a time like this? Didn’t he know that his cock was in her?! Didn’t he know what she needed of him right now, how important it was to her? Of course, he didn’t. Well. He would either get soft and fall out, or he would fuck her to completion soon enough. How long could he stay hard? How long could a hot-blooded man with a cock in a wet soft pussy resit a quick thrust or two, or two hundred, or whatever it would take? Even with a blue pill, how long could he keep it up and keep her full? Wasn’t there a warning on those things about “call a doctor for erections lasting more than a few hours” or something? How long did they last? Why hadn’t she paid attention better to those commercials?

Camille had never lived this far away before. A couple of floors down, 3 buildings over, and a couple of floors up, but it felt like she had plummeted down onto his cock on a freefall skydive. And the walk home seemed miles instead of meters. She had wondered if the elevator trip up to her floor would be as eventful, but it seemed like he had sat down to have his food, then probably moved over to the couch to watch a movie or something. She could swear that she could feel the lightest, most subtle thumping now and then. Maybe he was strumming his finger on his pants, or perhaps the deep rumbles of the subwoofer could be felt through the air and through his pants. Then again, it could just be his heartbeat. Her entire existence seemed to be slowly aligning itself with his heartbeat. Though his movements seemed to affect her less, the tickling of his pubic hair as he moved, the pressure of her new clit jewelry, and the thumping of his heart seemed to become more intense, but also more a part of her existence than a distraction. She didn’t getting home and getting dressed up a bit sexier in a cute tiny thin yellow summer dress (with no panties or bra, of course, there was a lot less to cover up now). But, she found herself scrubbing her dishes while turning and moving to the beat in her belly, her new cadence.

Camille walked to the beat of a different drum now. She had never fully understood that statement until today, even as she lay in bed, trying to ignore the effects this predicament was having on her body. She tried not to touch herself ‘down there,’ but she couldn’t help it. It was bizarre to find nothing between her legs. It was disturbing to feel so different, while also being a super sexy HOT kinky reminder of where her pussy was hanging out at the moment. And what was filling it up, though she didn’t need any reminder about that. Nothing about his cock had become familiar to her, every inch of him we still as ever-present as it had been the first time he shoved it in. She was not getting used to it. With both hands cupping her featureless crotch she knew that if she really really wanted to pleasure herself, her only two choices were her breasts and maybe fucking her ass with a dildo, but she didn’t think either of these would help.

She got used to the feeling of being a thing on his cock within the few hours since she had left. She hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of it filling her, but she was getting used to being the thing that was wrapped around it. It was a subtle but important distinction to her. Another portent?

Laying in her bed, hungry, trying to be distracted from the sensations, she felt him eventually get up from his movie, strip naked, then get in the shower. The warm water caressing her pussy lips was intense. Yes, it came with a lot of pleasure, especially considering how excited she was, but it also felt a lot like pissing herself for 30 minutes straight. How long of a shower could he take without finding a reason to fuck her!!!!? GOD! For one glorious minute, she felt him massaging soap into the base of his cock between his body and her labia. She could feel the rough backs of his fingers teasing her already sensitive skin. Then the most glorious feeling of freedom washed over her, but the pressure on her clit was suddenly gone! He had taken her clit ring! Damnit! She hadn’t even known just how much pleasure it was bringing her until it was gone!

Laying in the dark of her warm, dry bed, with her eyes closed, water coursing over her pussy lips, with his fingers brushing her sex, and the feeling of the clit jewelry being removed, Camille was suddenly hit with a new and intense vision.

She was kneeling before him. Again she was floating above, out of control of the scene. This time she was not naked, though. This time she was wearing some of the sexiest lingerie she could imagine on her body. A very tightly cinched corset that made her tits stick up so far her nipples were begging to be flicked. Her pussy was back where it belonged, but it was shrouded in thin black lacy panties so that she could hardly see it. She could tell that these panties had been a gift from him; her sex was still not hers; she was still his. She was wearing black stockings that were so thin you could hardly see them, especially because—in the vision of herself—the lighting was all wrong. Her lower body was in shadow as if it was almost out of sight, but her face and shoulders were well lit. She could see what he was reaching for as soon as she allowed her attention to wane from her slutty hot body in wanton sexy clothes. He hooked one finger gingerly next to her right cheek and pulled it down. The golden collar she had been wearing while cooking his meal was not a collar; it was the band of a ball gag; a large, red, plastic bead. No, it was a hard rubber ball gag. And he was freeing it from her mouth to make room for something else. It wasn’t to let her speak; she could see that she was still gagged emotionally, somehow unable to speak. She could feel his cock in her sex, and she knew that her vision self was about to taste the glorious shaft. She was about to experience the impossible feeling of being spit-roasted on one cock, what an odd thought. She watched, trying to hold onto the vision as it slipped from her. She wanted to see just how hot she would look, watching him fuck his juicy cock into her throat, watching his pubic hair tickle her chin and lips as well as her sex.

As the vision faded, but the feeling of his cock in her body didn’t, she grasped at the memory of being on her knees. Surely this was a representation of how she had submitted her sex to his whims, submitted herself to his cock, quite literally. Surely the ball gag in her mouth had been her clit jewelry, and him pulling it down represented him pulling the jewelry off of her (as he had done in the shower). But that didn’t make sense. To be a proper potent, he would have needed to remove the collar from her, not let it fall to her shoulders, where it lay, still possessively around her neck. Maybe this showed just how much she was letting him own her right now. Even as he didn’t fuck her, she had no plans to stop submitting. Still, the vision collar bothered her anew. Now she realized also that the cooking vision of herself had had the ball gag, but she had somehow missed it earlier, like it was being hidden from her. Was she hiding things from herself? Intentionally? She couldn’t speak in that scene kitchen either, though for a more physical reason. Her mouth had been gagged in the kitchen, but in this new vision, she was no longer gagged, yet she could see that her voice was sealed. What could all this mean? She couldn’t communicate with him while she was plugged with cock, she already knew that. Unless she wanted to march down there to get him off herself... She probably had no voice in these visions simply because they were now buildings away from each other. She could call him, but what could she say? So, her silent submission would continue in real life and in the visions.

The feeling of pissing herself eventually faded, and not because she was distracted by such an intense vision, but because his shower had finally ended. She was met with the soft touch and dab of a warm dry towel. Once dried, he explored her clean pussy lips with his finger, even slipping it up under her clit hood to brush against her swollen button. His finger skittered across her dry skin. He was so close to her wetness, but it was mostly plugged up inside of her by him. Then the light tightness of something new pressed in on the body of her sex. Underwear? She knew him to be a boxer guy. He must have had a pair of underwear around and was using it to hold her close. CRAP! Was he going to sleep with her! Any other god-damned day. ANY OTHER DAY! She would love to sleep with him, love to sleep, held tight to him, with his cock shoved up in her. ANY OTHER DAY! But there was nothing she could do about it if she chose to stay in her own bed and see this through. She would have to try to sleep with her decision and its consequences. On a whim, she got out of bed to push hard and slid her bed so that its long side touched the wall. Then she climbed back in bed and leaned her back against the cold wall trying to both cool her lusty body down and pretend that the pressure on her back was his warm stomach. She needed this pressure from behind to explain to her tired body why a hot hard cock was still buried in it. As she fell asleep, a vision of exactly that came to her, and it was much easier to imagine the wall as him when she could see it. She strained to see herself better, but from the angle of her out-of-body view, she could not see her neck to see if the ball gag collar was still there. Either way, this version of her was silent, and peaceful, and happy, and fulfilled, and filled, full. She couldn’t tell if they had just fucked, or if he had planted his cock in her to tease her as they fell asleep, but it was obvious that they were lovers in this vision. Nothing new or portentous about this scene though. But, it was a nice vision to slip softly into sleep with.

Chapter 2 — Routine

The next day came. She woke up feeling less herself. The rhythm of his heart was pounding a light tattoo on her heart, then it was less, then it was more. She imagined him rolling over in bed, putting more or less pressure on her, inducing more or less of his heartbeat into her tiny fleshy body. She was less, but he was more. This should have worried her, but she was a powerful witch, after all, so she knew the symbology of things, and she would not let it go too far. With his cock buried in her, it was a sign of ownership, and with her letting him, it was a sign of submission, but it had not gotten out of hand yet. Neither though had it gotten out of pussy. The amount of sexual energy coursing through her body now was enough to turn her stomach, but the pleasure of being so whole, and the tiny movements of his cock in and out of her, and his pubic hair tickling her clit, and his stomach occasionally pressing her into the bed, and...

The pressure on her increased. She was probably under him right now. She could imagine the scene, his hot, muscular body, sweaty with the pleasure of having a hot wet pussy tightly wrapped around it all night. Then her body smashed between his tight muscles and the bed. She could feel the first sensations of a fucking motion now and almost hear him mumbling in his sleep. Maybe he would fuck her to completion without even waking up. The majik would work the same way, she would be free if she chose to summon her sex back, but it would feel somehow empty as a win. Nothing about her felt empty right now, though. And if he came in her... she would be even less empty than she was now, stretched and squished as she was.

It was getting more difficult to feel her natural body and that she could move her arms and legs. It was also weird to feel her sex but not be able to squeeze his cock with it. OH, how she would love to squeeze it right now, wake him up, and get him to fuck her hard, his toy smashed down to the bed as she was.

No, she was her own woman, lying in her own bed, but also a perfect pleasure toy. She stretched and got out of bed. She showered since she was covered in sweat, and her hair was matted. Her fingers were raw, her nipples hurt, and the blank section of featureless sex between her legs felt scratched. Jesus, how much had she tried to pleasure herself in her sleep?!

Warm water coursed over her body. She could have taken a cold shower, but she felt too connected to him, and would only take a cold shower if he did. Instead, she tried to take her mind off sex by imagining what it would have looked like if he could have walked into her bedroom last night to see her pinching her nipples and trying to finger herself under the sheets, madly, asleep. Another vision took her out of her thoughts: The shower was gone, and she was floating in the air above his bed. She was looking over his shoulder and watching him watch her masturbate. She was clearly awake, but her eyes were held so tightly shut that it looked as though she were having a nightmare. Only the O-face and the dead-silent moans of pleasure let the truth be known that she was pleasuring herself. She still could not see her neck; her shoulder was in the way. She desperately wanted to know if she had her precious ball gag with her. Her mouth was not gagged, but she could not speak, or even moan, clearly. As he stood above her body and watched, it was clear that she could not achieve orgasm either.

In the real-life, in the shower, her stiff fingers worked her breasts over with soap. She avoided touching her nipples or featureless sex. She cupped her breasts, lifting them, presenting them to the hot shower water pummeling them with a hail storm of water droplets. She held her mouth open, catching warm water in her mouth and letting it dribble down her chin like fresh warm...

Back in the vision, he stepped forward and rested his hand on her shoulder that still blocked the view of her neck from this vision’s viewpoint.

All at once: A GOD said CUM, and she came. The vision self, writhed in bed as if she had been forsaken an orgasm for hours and only now given the freedom and ability. The shower version of her went from hot water pounding down on her chest to hot water cascading onto her back and head. Her fingers were digging nails into her nipples, and she was biting her lip hard enough to hurt badly. Her sex was on fire as if it was experiencing the culmination of a 12-hour hard fucking which only now was coming to a head. She couldn’t even hear the shower over the noise of that GOD’s voice in her head, and the word “CUM” still ringing in her mind over and over like the continuous tolling of a massive brass bell, only softening as her orgasm waned. Had she actually come in real life, from the effects of a vision?? She was now kneeling in the shower, unwilling to try to move as her body shook from the aftermath. Instinctively, now that she had come so hard, she tried to lift herself off of the huge cock that was resting inside of her, putting so much pressure on her body and mind. But as she lifted her ass, the cock came with her, reminding her that she was still his. She was still his pleasure toy. She was less. She couldn’t let this go on much longer, or she might become so much less that she would start losing her powers. Well, not her power, but her power to raise against him to go retrieve herself from his house. She was his right now, she was owned by his cock and the pleasure, how could she attack her owner? If this progressed much further she would be forced to act.

Her ‘self’ was getting eroded by her own game. She knew that she would recover as soon as she got her lady-bits re-installed, but right now, she was still a... a what? A cock-sleeve? A fuck toy? Was she a sex sheath? She shook her head and tried to be present in her own real woman’s body. She was not a toy; she had just lent her friend a significant part of her. She was his for as long as he wanted her, or as long as she could keep her ‘self’ intact, or until she waltzed over to his place and fucked him with her own pussy.

She tried to get her feet under her, but it took a while. By the time her legs had the strength, the water was growing colder. How much more of this could she stand? And if she had another one of these GOD CUM visions... what if she were in public? At work? She planned to be either at home, or at home, or in his bed. Had she thought “at home” twice? Had she thought of his home as “home” so naturally? She couldn’t let herself fall for a non-majikal person. She could let him play with her, but that would be the end of it.

Doing majik while she was distracted and in pieces was hazardous business. But, she took the time to get fully into her own ‘self’ as much of her ‘self’ as was still left, double-checked her work, then spoke her spell. She conjured herself something that looked like a watch, and to anyone but her, it would show the time. For her, though, it showed her ‘self’ so she could make sure she didn’t run out of it before she had to make a decision to end this. She decided that when her ‘self’ was at 6 pm, she would march over and do something. Whether that was knocking him out with a spell to modify his memory and lose a friend, she didn’t know. Or maybe she could convince him to give the ‘toy’ back, she could scuttle to the bathroom for a good 4-hour session of rebuilding herself, then go fuck him as a proper complete woman would. Or maybe just go back to the original idea of giving him the most spectacular handjob anyone had ever been given. Ever. It would be amazing to watch his face as he came while being able to watch his balls tighten, up close, and watch the cum surge up through his cock, and feel it filling her up... oh... ya... she checked her ‘self’ and she had lost a little more. That minor loss had been worth that little daydream though.

She was rocked by another vision. Now it was official; she had had more portentous visions in 24 hours than she had had in her entire life! But no time to dwell on that now! She was kneeling below him again. She seemed to be back in the scene where she was wearing the stockings kneeling at his feet submissively. Her mouth was actually full up with cock this time, and she could see her throat bulging from it. Her eyes were watering, but she couldn’t tell if it was from concentration, pleasure, iration, or joy. Maybe all of the above, it also could have been a cock tickling the back of her throat fairly deep down. She wondered why she didn’t bring her hands up to hold his balls or grab his ass, then she noticed that her wrists were cuffed behind her back, or at least seemed to be. She couldn’t see her wrists. Was she holding them behind her back submissively, or were her hands tied? Surely the meaning to this was simple. As long as his cock was in her, her hands were tied. She could stop him if she tried, she could bite the cock in the vision, or she could march down to his house to take her pussy back in real life, but she chose to be his. So she was.

She checked her watch. It seemed that visions didn’t drain her ‘self.’ It actually seemed to strengthen it, as if she were regaining some understanding of what was happening to her.

For the next few hours, she lay in bed naked, staring at the ceiling. ing who she was, and ignoring that another part of her was a cock sheath that he was choosing to wear all over, what, all over town? She felt him walking. She felt him driving(?). Now she had no idea where her pussy was, and that should have bothered her more, but she trusted him. Wasn’t that fact that she was still tightly wrapped around him a sign that he was not going to forget her somewhere, or like, sell her or something weird?

For one glorious moment, she felt her pussy lips being pressed very hard into his pubic bone, and she felt his thick shaft being thrust very deep into her. So deep that she lost count of how deep it was. She didn’t have a word for it, but “lost count” was the closest. “Lost track” didn’t seem right... She thought that maybe he had finally chosen to fuck her, and it felt very nice. Then his cock swelled, and his urethra expanded. For a moment, she thought he had cum, but the light vibration continued for about 10 seconds or more... Oh... he had pushed his head out her other side and pissed. He had just pissed THROUGH her pussy... weird. This was ALL so weird! Then it was back to “normal,” back to being snuggled in his underwear, held tight by his pants, and walked around who-the-hell-knew-where.

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if he went somewhere to fuck someone else and kept her on... but that thought was fleeting. She waited for it. Waited on tenterhooks, this was going to be one FUCK or a WEIRD ASS vision, but no vision came of him fucking her into some brothel worker or something, thank goodness.

Chapter 3 — sSelf

sShe... what was her name again? Wasn’t it written on her watch? There was something important on her watch, why else did it keep looking at its watch? She wanted to take the nasty reminder off, but the watch was sealed to her flesh. She was so horny now, but she was accustomed to it now. Oh ya. Camille... Camille looked at her watch for the 500th time this hour. She was only half there now. She was half warm, snuggled, unfucked. She was half Camille, a witch, and a powerful one. She was a giver, but she had lent. She had been told before to never lend to a friend, give. But she had thought that giving hersSelf to his cock was a gift, but it was coming to the realization that it had not been meant as a gift. Yes, it was meant for him, but it had also been for her. It had not been 100% sSelfless, as a true gift should be, and some twist of fate was making it pay... it? It? Who was “it”? Fate was making her pay... Camille.

Her watch beeped. Well. It didn’t beep, it was a majikal device, not an electronic one, but to a non-majikal person; the only word to describe what it did, was that it beeped. Her mind had been made up for it hours ago when she had told herself that enough would be enough when it was half ‘self’ half ‘it.’ The Beep had made her aware that now was that moment. It didn’t need to make a decision; it was just doing what it was supposed to.

DAMBIT! Camille shook her head. She was going to get this fixed. She was mad with desire; this was something past lust. Her toy self was fucking PISSED that it was not getting fucked, and it was God-damn horny! Her self-Self, that was left, was also FUCKING pissed that she had not been fucked, but also frustrated, but ittedly horny also. She really liked him, and now that IT had been so well acquainted with his cock, and SHE had been so well acquainted with his heartbeat, she wanted him even more. This was utterly sexual though, she could not allow hersSelf to have any non-animal-lust emotions for a mundane man.

The elevator ride down felt weird, as only half of her was going down. The other half of it was anchored on its entire existence, holding tight, full. She shook her head again.

Camille strode down the walkway; people got out of her way as if she had a snowplow chained at her hard nipples. The people looked slightly shocked and surprised to see her walking about in daylight as if she were some uniquely exciting and unexpected thing. Did she need to turn on her glamour, or were they just sensing the massive amount of sexual energy emitting from her body? Maybe she should dim that down before going up?

Glamour now on full blast, Camille pushed the lift button. When she went to step in, that woman with the great smelling hair was in it. She was about to step out, but it was as if she hit a solid wall where the elevator doors would have been. She stepped back into the deep corner of the elevator as if making room for a small house that was entering. She seemed to melt into the elevator as Camille ed the stunned woman. She did smell so good.

Camille could tell that she would like this woman if she gave her the time of day, but what good would that do her without a pussy? Camille needed to focus, and ignore the sounds of the woman’s heavy breathing. And the beating of the woman’s heart was not synced up with hers and her lover’s so Camille tried to ignore it.

Camille could see a blurry, distorted reflection of the woman in the of elevator buttons. The woman looked scared but fascinated, like a deer in headlights. Camille focused hard on reducing her effect on the people around her, and the woman visibly loosened up. When Camille stepped out of the elevator, the woman followed. For a moment, she was worried that she had somehow infected this woman with her sexual need, but the woman quickly peeled away from her and used her key to flee into her apartment. Camille heard the woman’s body hit the door from the inside. She didn’t think the woman was holding the door shut in fear. Instead, Camille could imagine the frantic woman’s back sliding down the door as her feet slipped out in front of her, one hand shot into her pants, and the other up her blouse. The woman might be cuming before Camille even got to her destination. This 2nd chance meeting seemed somehow important, was another vision about to start? She waited for a vision of the two women kneeling at his feet submissively with their mouths open and their matching ball-gag collars draped loosely at the base of their throats, but no vision came.

Camille grabbed his door handle. It had never been locked for her before, but she had also always been an expected guest in the past. The door handle didn’t budge, even with a bit of push of her magic and a mumble under her breath. She felt drained if she could not even summon the strength to unlock a mundane door. How could her majik fail on such a simple task? Separation from her self? Distraction? This could be bad. Was it his door that was balking her or her majik? Could she open a neighbor’s door, but not his? Was she too much “his” to press herself on him like this? Or was she just weak? It was quite possible she would not be able to rely on any magic. She might have to seduce him and give him that handjob after all. What would she do if he rejected her? She only had so much self left. Surely though, a healthy, hot man who had been rock hard for almost a day now would not be able to resist her wiles?

The handle shifted under the weight of her thoughts. Had it been unlocked the entire time, and she had been weak of body, not just of mind and majik? The door swung open, and she was suddenly vulnerable. Standing in the hall, looking in on his gorgeous body resting gently on the couch wearing only bulging jeans. She felt weak in the knees, weak of spirit, and of mind. Until he looked up and beckoned her in. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she felt invigorated. Almost whole, with the extra bonus of being full of cock. He felt even more prominent in her sex now, and it was difficult to walk toward the couch without showing that her body was heavily laden with cock, and lust.

Camille sat next to him. She sat down gingerly, as though her body expected this motion to force him painfully deeper into her, but, of course, it didn’t shift in the slightest. She had not felt this much like herself in hours. She didn’t dare look at her watch, she didn’t want him thinking she was in a rush, but she knew the hands would be telling her that she had regained a lot of her ‘self’ even just since she had stepped over the threshold to his apartment.

“I was hoping...” she tried to say, but no words came out, it was as if she were gagged. She realized that she had not spoken in a day. He just looked up at her. It was as if he had everything in the world he had ever wanted. What if he just wanted a warm wet hole to rest his cock in for the rest of his life, and she was too weak to take it back by force or magic? Then he smiled, and she felt his cock twitch inside of her reassuringly. But he really did look content. Something about his smile said he was the man who had everything.

Something told her that words would not sway this man. He seemed to tower over her even as they both sat. He filled the room, and he filled her body. He literally surrounded her in and out. Now, more than ever, she was his, her pleasure was his, his pleasure was his, and he was her everything. Even with these feelings of absolute submission and pleasure, she felt more herself and less a sleeve. She still felt like an object. She had felt like a fuck toy, a pleasure device, a cock sleeve, a thing, she was an “It.” But now, she felt like a toy because of the way he surrounded her and filled her. She was putty, and he was the entire room as if his presence were massive hands holding her steady while she re-found her ‘self’ in his company. Was his pressure molding her to his will, or had she given him her will, was there even an important distinction between the two?

She still had no words, and without words, she had no magic. She only had her wiles, so she leaned forward suggestively. Slowly, while he watched her, she moved her hand to his leg, then up his thigh. Then she felt herself under his jeans. She was nothing more than a massive long lump of soft encoming his manhood. No. She was Camille, or at least she assumed she was. It was odd though, she could not feel her own hand there. She pushed down on herself and felt nothing. She massaged his jeans and watched his eyes flicker slightly in the light. He could feel what she was doing, and that was all that really mattered. She cared more about his pleasure now than ever, and not only for her freedom.

She wanted to talk to him while she massaged his cock through his jeans and through her. To convince him? To what? But there were no words. Something in his eyes asked her to stop, so she did, sadly, reluctantly.

Something shifted as he moved his hips. He was able to pivot them just right to force his cock into her ever so slightly, then withdraw it. Except for when he had taken a piss, this was the first time she had really felt him slip this deep inside of her. The movement was not much, but this was sex! She watched his eyes; they seemed to burn her. She wanted him to read the desire in her since she could find no words for it. She wished he could see her desperate need for him to thrust deeper, push harder, pull out further, and fuck her faster. She wanted to see his pleasure, and she no longer cared about her own release. At this moment, she was free of her own needs, and her pussy was now his gift. He could use it, keep it, throw it away, as long as he got what he wanted and needed of it.

He seemed to see the shift in her. He continued to vector his hips, but he increased the stroke length slightly. Camille’s eyes fluttered. No glamour could have hidden that.

“I wanted to win you free of majik. I wanted you to be mine because you wanted to be mine.”

Camilla felt as though he had stolen the words right out of her mouth. Then she realized that he HAD! His thrusts increased, and she found herself frozen in shock as waves of understanding crossed and crashed with waves of building pleasure. Ever since she had given him his gift, she had been understanding more and experiencing more pleasure; now, the waves were crashing together in her mind. The turbulence muddling her thoughts.

He knew majik. He wanted to win her without majik. The only way he could have hidden his majik from her was if he was a very talented and powerful wizard. She had not sensed even the slightest vibrations of majik any time that she was near him. Now he was loosening up his glamour, and she realized that it also extended to his massive house, hidden with majik inside of his tiny apartment. The caliber of his majik was such that he could hide all of this from her effortlessly. How had she been so dim as to literally give her pussy to a wizard!? That level of vulnerability terrified her. She was in profound trouble now! She was in danger.

The feelings of fear, terror, disbelief, and trepidation were washed out of her by the waves of pleasure as he rocked his hips into her pussy. The visions she had had! They had been so intense, they had tried to warn her! They had also been stronger and clearer than they should have been. Had they been something that he put into her, or had they been her own vision? Would she find herself kneeling at his feet, looking God-damned sexy, sucking on his cock by choice or by force?

“I’m not here to win you by majik. I told you that, and you know I was telling the truth. Just as it seems you don’t win your friends with majik, and only wanted the truth from me when you gave me such a kind and thoughtful... and naughty gift.”

She begged him with her eyes to let her cum so she could think again. Waves of truth were nothing but scattered thoughts when waves of pleasure kept intercepting them, overrunning them, diluting them, molding them.

His fucking continued uninterrupted. Pleasure built, pleasure waned, his powerful gaze pierced her; she could hide nothing from him. At this point, he could probably even sense her pleasure, allowing him to control even that.

“I’m not here to control you. You gave yourself to me, and I was grateful for it. At first, when I felt your majik, I feared you, I hid from you as our kind do. But then I came to enjoy your company. I’ve felt your heart as you have now felt mine.”

His heartbeat resounded in her mind and against her heart, reminding her of her growing affection for him. An affection that no longer had limitations. Without her desire to dampen it, it blossomed, and she desired nothing more than to cum now, to be his. But, only if it would make him happy. She was his gift now.

“Ahh, there it is again, your own desire. When you gave me the gift, I was wary, but decided you were worth the risk. But you also gave me the one tool I had been missing. I needed a way to see you selfless. To see you truly and totally selfless without using my majik on you. And you handed me the tool I needed. I rather enjoyed how you chiseled away at your own needs until that moment when you wanted only my pleasure. That moment can’t be faked. That was when I knew.”

... Pleasure waves ...

“So, I will take that as a yes. You’ll be mine. You were truly and wholly mine for a moment, and...” His cock swelled in her. “You are mine now in body also.” You are quite a powerful witch, and I may not get this chance again without some convincing. So, I offer you this; cum for me, let me claim the last part of you that remains yours. Cum for me, give me your pleasure for my pleasure, selflessly. Cum for me, and I’ll give you your collar for a while.” A gold ring red ball gag appeared on the coffee table, laying on top of the most exquisite black corset and stockings as he spoke. How was he conjuring these things without even speaking spells, or had they already been there, and he was removing the glamour. Maybe he was powerful enough to cast behind his glamour? What else was he hiding from her? “Cum for me, and I’ll keep you for my pleasure for a while, and I’ll ensure that you love it.”

Every time he enunciated the word “Cum” she almost did. His heart beating a rhythm on her heart and emotions, and his words tapping a cadence on her blossoming pleasure. “Cum for me, and you may be mine. Someday I’ll free you. But I’ve always wanted a familiar. You may be my familiar lover, toy, slut, pet, pocket pussy, bed warmer. Then, when I’ve sated myself into you as I like, as long as I like, I’ll free you to truly be mine. I ask this ultimate sacrifice of you only because I know you want to give it as you gave me the gift that has kept me company.”