As if making ready to oblige, he stepped closer, using one powerful hand to pull her in...but kept his cock a hand’s length away from her pussy. Vivian’s perfect, pouty lips moved up and down in hot, longing movements, needing to kiss him again.
“P-please...” she gasped. “Anything. I’ll d-do anything...”
“Beg for my cock,” he commanded. “Beg for only my cock.”
“Please! Please let me touch it! Let me suck it!”
“You may stroke me. But nothing else.”
Eagerly, she obeyed. She realized that, any other man would be begging to fuck her, right now. But Craft was so powerful, so incredible, that she was begging him. He made her beg him.
“Real power belongs to me, doesn’t it?”
Her hand slid so fast and easy on his slick cock. “Oh, yes sir. God, you’re so fucking right, sir. I love how much power you have.”
Gently, he stroked her hair. “Are you grateful to me? Are you grateful for becoming mine?”
“Oh yes, Sir! Thank you for owning me, sir! Thank you for making me yours.”
“I’m not sure I believe you. You know, you’ll never be able to fuck me if that’s all you’ve got.”
“Thank you for breaking my will! And all my friends, too! God, you fucking own them so good, Sir. You destroyed their wills, just like they deserved! Thank you for bringing me here to be owned just by you. Only by you! You’re my Owner, my King, my God, My Master!”
Finally he pushed her hand off his cock, and plunged himself into her cunt. She guided him in with eager passion, taking him into her like she had wanted for her whole, whole life. She had been born to be a supermodel goddess dedicated to fucking and loving her Master’s cock.
“My God,” she moaned. “My true Male. My Real Man. My Powerful Hunk.”
She said the words like that in her head as she spoke—capitalizing them, moaning them even in her mind as she moaned them out loud. She knew that was his domain now, and every small bit of affection she could coerce out of herself to give to him would be utterly his.
As he thrust into her again and again, bouncing her tits on his chest, her orgasm hovered right at the edge of her cascades of pleasure. It was building, building, building—and she knew that was him, once more, taking all the smaller orgasms he would have given her normally just from a single thrust (such a fucking hunk, her Master) and building them into one reality-breaking cum.
“I’m going to cum, Vivian,” he grunted. “My Vivian. My slave. My favorite. You want to feel it? You want my cum in your pussy?”
“Yes!” She begged him. “Please, yes! Do it now! Give it to me, Sir, please!”
Bucking and thrusting, he exploded inside of her, delivering his hot, amazing warmth just how she needed. Her own orgasm—just as she thought it would—broke the walls of her reality. Hot lines of light ran across her vision, pouring bliss directly into her brain. She was his, now and forever, and she wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.
After what seemed like an eternity, her mind flicked back on—to the sensation of her Master, hard and ready, already inside of her.
“Please,” she moaned up at him. “Take me again?”
He did not say anything, but he answered—his thrusts starting anew, his mouth adoring her perfect breasts. From across the office, her model friends walked in—Marisol and Jacqueline—along with Jacqueline's new fertile, lactating playmate. And yet, even so, he forced them down on their knees to watch as he took Vivian again.
Vivian was so happy to be the center of his attention, to be everything that he had wanted. She would be his ultimate trophy from now on—his personal declaration to the world about what a fucking stud he was. It was so, so unbelievably perfect, and so was she, to be the one he called his favorite.
# # #
Bound to Obey
David stepped into the antique shop, a little on edge. Even with the friendly little door bell ringing away; the interior was poorly lit and full of unsorted items. He wasn’t sure what to get, and had never really shopped for antiques before in the first place. But regardless, he was going to find the perfect gift for the girl of his dreams, and she was going to love him for it.
Never having shopped for antiques before was most of the reason why he was going to this store in the first place, this “Possessions.” It was brand new in town, having opened just the previous weekend, and if he didn’t know what they offered or what could be found there, he was certain that there were a great many others who had come in as of late who were in the same boat as him.
Somehow, going to some established antique shop run by lifelong antiquers who knew everything there was to know about the carving methods for seventeen different styles of cuckoo clocks just filled him with dread.
So, he was going to some place new, to help him with what would be hopefully a new chapter in his life. Whatever he got for slim, blond, beautifully busty nineteen year-old Amy, it had to be incredible. Jawdropping. Pussy-wettening. All of those things at once.
In his head, the ideal scenario was him sitting down with Amy and sliding the present across the table. They would have an isolate little spot in the coffee shop where no one could see. She would open it, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes, completely unable to form words before dropping underneath the table to suck him off.
Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. But it was good to aim high, he always thought. That way when he fell short, he was still doing pretty well. A kiss, maybe. Or a blowjob after she sequestered him back to his apartment.
Or her apartment, he wasn’t picky.
At times, David didn’t feel as if he was in Amy’s league. Even at twenty years-old, he had no idea of his own attractiveness—whether any woman would ever want to sleep with him or not. He was awfully skinny, and didn’t know what to do with the dark mash of his hair, but he was clueless as to whether that was something women enjoyed or not. He just hoped beyond hope that Amy—beautiful Amy, with her killer smile and deadly-gorgeous body—would love him for his heart, the way he loved her.
He scanned the store, looking for an attendant or clerk or something. He had left his wallet in his car, an old tactic to prevent himself from buying too much. Once he decided what to get, he would get a guaranteed time-out to go walk to the car and think about his decision. Lining the shelves, there were all sorts of items he basically expected—odd-shaped lamps, thick rugs, tall stacks of books with no names, chairs that didn’t look made for sitting, trays full of candelabras, tea-organizers made from old picnic tables.
But then there was weird stuff too—used notebook full of scrawly handwriting, packets of balls, long ornate handkerchiefs that could double as blindfolds, tiny ornate statues of women in high heels and tiny skirts who were vacuuming or doing the dishes. And...was that a dildo, on that back shelf?
“Can I help you?” came a lovely, exotic voice from the other end of the store.
He turned to see a shape of a woman behind a curtain; she was putting something up on a shelf.
“Oh, hi,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hi. Yes, I’d love your help. Yes, please.”
Objects shuffled around as she continued to stack behind the curtain.
“Just a moment,” she said. “Anything in particular you are looking for?”
“I don’t know. It’s a gift for a girl.” He struggled with the wording. “It’s a thing for her and me. An anniversary, I mean. The gift, what I’m getting, what it’s for. I’m not sure what to get, though.”
He didn’t know why he was having so much trouble putting words together. There was something about the woman that put him off.
“This girl, she is your girlfriend?”
David shrugged, embarrassed now. “Sort of.”
The woman stepped out from behind the curtain. She was mesmerizingly gorgeous. David couldn’t tear his eyes away.
She wore a tight green gown that left her shoulders bare, a wide v-shape of perfect porcelain skin on open display for him to a
dmire. And she clearly, obviously, wanted him to admire her. There was no doubt in his mind. Her hair was thick, long, and dark, floating down her body like some blanket woven from shiny black diamonds, somehow sparkling in the dim light of the store. Her face was elegant—regal, almost, as if she was some empress in hiding, her eyes enormous and green, her lips thick and incredibly kissable. She was like the premiere example of femininity. Everything about her seemed so lusciously...fertile.
Insanely, he wanted to grab her. He wanted to press her against the wall and have his way with her, right then and there. It was a thought that previously only Amy had inspired. Of course, he would never give in to such thoughts—he was a gentleman, after all.
The only woman he had ever seen nearly as gorgeous as this woman was Catalina Rubia, former cheerleading captain at his old high school and the bane of his entire existence. Catalina and Amy traded off places in his jack-off fantasies—Amy when he wanted someone to adore and hold, but Catalina when he wanted someone to fuck and dominate.
Sometimes, he thought about them teaming up to seduce him. Apologizing for all the wrongs they had done them—and there were plenty—and sometimes he thought about Amy bringing Catalina over, putting her down on her knees in front of David, and then commanding her to worship...
The gorgeous woman’s gaze, eating him up, seemed only to encourage that kind of thinking. Like she thrived off of it, somehow. Her green eyes were brimming with understanding, as if she knew exactly the sort of thinking she encouraged, and about whom.
She tsked softly, seeming to float toward him, her walk was so graceful.
“Sort of girlfriend? What is this ‘sort of?’ A handsome boy like you, I think to myself, ‘Yasmin, he must have so many girlfriends. It is no use trying to be flirty with him. He has so many, he is fighting girls off with sticks.’ Myself, I do not like being hit with sticks. So don’t worry about me.” She placed a dainty finger inside of the deep, luscious line of her cleavage. “Now, who is this insane woman who is not sure if she is yours or not?”
Every word from this beautiful woman’s mouth—this Yasmin—swelled David’s pride more and more. She was talking about...about not just one girl, but lots of girls vying for him. That he would have to be in a position where women would come to him. If only!
He was sure it was a sales tactic, but still, even that effort made him feel more appreciated than he thought he ever had from regular interaction with other women. With most women, especially beautiful women, he was awkward. It was hard to form words when women were always these lovely collections of everything that was hot and sexy and right in the world.
But with this beauty, this Yasmin...it was easy to relax. Her smile so warm and inviting. He stared openly at her cleavage, and she repositioned her chest, making it even easier for him to look.
Go ahead, she seemed to say. They’re decorated up just for you.
“Her name is Amy. She’s...we worked together. And went to school together, a while back.”
She only noticed him when they started working together and she needed a ride, of course. Six months ago, she had kissed him on the lips when he dropped her off. Since then, he had been in love—and nothing had been able to dissuade him from pursuing her.
“Ah. And she had some enormous crush on you that you are only just now noticing, so she is shy?”
He shook his head. “It’s more the other way around, actually.”
Yasmin’s eyebrows raised up. “Impossible! I cannot believe it! You are handsome! Young! What is the word...a stud! That is what you are!”
She slid on arm on his back, maneuvering him through the store. One big, delectable tit landed on his arm. He could feel the pressure in his pants starting to build. Soon, he’d have a hard-on. But somehow, with Yasmin so near, that did not seem like such an issue. Previously, it would have made him die with embarrassment.
But again, with her, this feeling of wrongness that he had trained himself with was somehow morphing to rightness. She was a beautiful woman. Of course he should have a hard-on. He was a man, after all, and fucking gorgeous women was what men did.
Wow, what a feeling.
She took him to a shelf arranged with many closed boxes.
“This is my exclusive shelf,” she said softly. Each breath coated in her exotic foreign accent. “I promise myself when I open this store, I say, ‘Yasmin, do not let anyone buy anything from this shelf. It is all too precious. Save it only for those customers who come back again and again.’ But then, this handsome man, this stud, he comes inside my shop, and my will disappears.”
She opened a box. Inside were a collection of ornate, violet ropes, coiled up playfully.
“Will is such a troublesome thing. I am so happy for it to be gone in front of you. Your girl, this girl you love, she will be happy it is gone as well.”
David shook his head. The thick fog of arousal this Yasmin produced was making it very hard to think. She was pushing so many buttons, all at once. Talking about her will being gone in front of him. Talking about Amy’s will being gone. But this gift, these...
“Ropes?”
“Of course. Feel them.” She guided his hand down to their soft surface. “So lovely, so right they feel. She will not be able to do anything but what you say when she is wrapped in them. She will love you, then, exactly how you deserve for being such a beautiful stud. Is that not what you would like?”
She pressed hard into his arm, enveloping his bicep with her large titflesh. She stared into his eyes, her own deep green irises seeming to absorb everything he was.
“Oh god,” he breathed. “Yeah...yeahhhh...”
That would be incredibly hot. Slim, busty Amy just doing only what he said. Amy wrapped completely in ropes, her big eyes looking up at him, expectant. Needing him to tell her to exist. Begging for him to own her more and more. Needing him to fill her until she was absolutely full of his seed. His cum. His babybatter. In his darkest dreams, his most emphatic fantasies, that was the image most prominent in his mind. Gorgeous blond Amy, so tiny and supplicating, her big tits wrapped down with constraints of his choosing.
Fuck.
“You deserve to have your girlfriend do what you say, don’t you? That is what these ropes will do. They have power, David, just as you have power.”
Had he told her his name? She was so close, so soft...he didn’t care.
Power, she was promising him. Power over Amy. Her hand slid along his bulge. His mind barely noticed it, though of course his body did. He was just staring at those ropes, imagining Amy in them. Helpless to do anything except obey his will. Needing his say-so to be let out, to be free.
Constraining Amy. Containing her. Making her his and his alone. She would never be able to say no to him again. She would never say anything to him except “Please” and “Thank you” and an endless string of happy, angelically-crafted compliments. The thoughts ran over his mind without even beckoning them—it was like they belonged on his mind, like he deserved that kind of thinking.
Fuck fuck oh fuck.
“You deserve whatever you want for working so very hard,” Yasmin purred. “Won’t you take them? Take the ropes? Please?”
Her tits were so heavy and full against his chest. Her hands nimbly unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from the futile restraints they posed. There was nothing that could get in the way of this woman’s desires, he knew suddenly. She would have her way. And she would give him incredible pleasure as she did so. Darkness gathered up around the two of them. It was impossible to see anything except for the shelf and her.
Her lips brushed against his ear, breathing warmly. Everything about her was so warm—almost otherworldly so, as if she was from a completely different dimension. A dimension, perhaps, based entirely on sex, loving, fucking, and hot bondage games where everyone belonged to someone else.
Sprouting forward, his cock slipped inside her open hand.
“Oh yes,” her voice so soft and breathy. “Yes, that’s right. Pay me fo
r my goods.”
“P-pay?” he asked softly, her hand so incredibly smooth.
Struggling to mend his reality with his completely shattered expectations, he remembered suddenly how his wallet was in his car.
“I...my money. Outside.”
“Don’t be silly. Money from a stud like you? No. I need only one payment.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “Give it to me, stud. Give me your gift. Pay me. Please?”
Her other hand waved through the air. Little blue light trails followed her fingers. Suddenly, on the top of the shelf with all the boxes was a tall mirror. He could watch her as much as he wanted—see how completely hot she was.
“Look into the mirror. Watch my face, my breasts. Watch my excitement. This is what a woman should be for you.”
Shadows began to merge and meld in the darkness of the mirror. Behind Yasmin’s gorgeous reflection, the shelves of the store distended and morphed into a picture of Amy. The ropes from the box wrapped around her hands, and then framed around her tits.
He could see her clearly, her styled blond hair looking deliciously sexy around her young, happy face. She was mouthing his name, moaning it, needing him. He could very nearly make out her voice.
Yasmin’s voice was soft and pressing as she stroked his hot, hard cock. Her tits bouncing against his arm. Everything about her was so warm and good.
“This is what you deserve, for being what you so clearly are. For being a hunk, a stud, an ace. You need women like this, serving you like this, at all times. This is your reward for gifting us with your existence. Cum, my sweet stud. Cum for me and let me give you my perfect ropes!”
Staring at Yasmin’s bouncing tits in the mirror, at Amy silently calling out for him, David could not help but cum. He sprayed some directly into her hand, all the cum somehow landing there. She licked it all up right as he watched, treating it like it was holy ambrosia. Her eyes—beautiful emerald eyes—seemed to get only greener as he watched her.
Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories Page 9