The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In a short time, it’ll be Halloween once again. The memories of what happened to me last year on that night are becoming clearer with each passing day, and I feel the dread, the fear, and the anticipation rising within me. Perhaps if I relate my story, you’ll understand why I’m feeling those emotions.

My wife and I are in our mid thirties, or so I thought at the time, anyway. We met in college, and I now know that meeting was not by chance. What I had thought was a random event was, according to what she told me on that fateful evening last year, a planned event. Please forgive my rambling; it’s the only way I can get through it.

We married shortly after graduation, my degree being in Business Administration and hers in American History, with an emphasis on the Revolutionary War period. I had been hired during a job interview on campus, by a company that was in the beginning stages of growth. I’m not intending to brag about my abilities here, but I have to say that by the time I’d been in the company for five years, I was already a Vice President and reported directly to the Chairman of the Board of Directors. The company had by that time become a billion-dollar corporation, in no small part due to the things I’d done for it during my tenure. I was sure that within another five years, I’d replace the current Chairman, and as it turned out, that did indeed happen.

As you can imagine, my compensation is very good, and my wife and I live the good life. Our home is probably thought of as a mansion by people who know us, and we are known in the community as generous donors to charitable causes. Our home is situated in the center of a ten-acre lot, and we are completely shielded from the outer world. In other words, I earn lots of money, and my wife doesn’t have to work. That seems to suit her just fine, and she seems to enjoy her life of leisure.

Until last Halloween, it had not seemed odd to me that Christina had never been at home during that particular time of the year. She seemed to always plan trips to visit old friends in late October, and it had happened so many times during our marriage that it seemed normal for her to be gone then. I did notice that when she returned home her libido seemed to be raging, and we always had very good sex, sometimes more than once a day. Having her gone for that two-week period seemed a small price to pay for what I had come to expect upon her return.

It was for that reason that her announcement that she would be staying home for Halloween was surprising to me. I was selfish enough to wonder, to myself anyway, if that meant I’d not be getting the fantastic sucking and fucking of prior years.

The second part of her announcement was that six of her friends would be paying us a visit at that time. Upon inquiry, she told me they were all women of an age with herself, and of her station in life. In other words, women of leisure who were supported quite well by their husbands.

Christina’s friends arrived on the day before Halloween, and I could see right away they were all fast friends. I don’t ever recall seeing my wife so happy and animated around other people, and I was glad she had this chance to once again renew her friendship with these visitors. I suppose I should admit that my own feeling was one of expectation, since the women were at least as beautiful as Christina, if not more so. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t have secret fantasies of having illicit sex with beautiful women who were guests in my home.

The visit, and the visitors, were extremely normal in all aspects during the first day, and up until dinner was served the second evening, which was Halloween night. As soon as the meal was completed, and the table cleared by the servants, Christina dismissed them for the night, saying they could spend the night with their families. As it was a Friday night, she also gave them the weekend off, promising to pay them in full even though they would not be working. That seemed quite odd to me, since it would mean she and I would be responsible for our own meals, and neither of us could boil water, let alone cook. However, I was sure she’d already thought of how to handle the details, so I didn’t question her.

After the servants had departed, we went into the drawing room to have our after-dinner drinks. The ladies were all good conversationalists, and I enjoyed listening to them, and joining in when I could.

I have no idea how long we had been sitting there when I began to notice the drink was having an odd effect on me. I’ve never been a heavy drinker, but I certainly know how to drink socially without it affecting my reasoning. This time though, I seemed to have difficulty following the conversation, even though every word was clear to me. I especially noticed how the lights seemed much brighter than usual, and each one had a circular rainbow around it. My arms and legs, and indeed my entire body, seemed to be made of lead, and I could do nothing but sit quietly on the couch beside my wife.

I remember quite clearly that all the voices seemed to become still at the same time, and how all seven of the women were staring at me. One of the women then said, “I think he’s ready now, don’t you?” I heard the others murmur in agreement, and then Christina said, “John, I want you to raise your right hand to your face. Pinch your nostrils closed. Keep your mouth closed. You are not to breathe until I tell you to do so. Do it.”

As if it were being operated by someone else, my arm lifted from my lap and approached my face. Unbidden by me, my thumb and forefinger pinched my nose until it was entirely closed. At the same time, my lips locked tight.

As the women watched me, I slowly began to experience distress from the lack of air. Just as I was afraid I was going to pass out and die, my wife said, “Open your mouth and breathe. Place your hand in your lap again.” That command was quickly obeyed, and I gasped for air for several seconds before once again breathing normally.

Christina then said, “He’s ready. Shall we get started? It’ll be midnight in a couple of hours, and we don’t want to be late, do we?” I heard the others agree with her, and then she said, “Rachel, do you have the vial with the second dose?”

As my eyes looked to the other woman, she handed my wife a small glass bottle. Christina removed the stopper from the top, and then held it out to me, saying, “John, I want you to drink this. It’s a mixture of pennyroyal, St. John’s wort, belladonna, and a few other poisonous herbs. The best part, though, is something special I added while you were at work today. It’s a mixture of my vaginal juices and my lover’s semen, and you should find it to be very fresh. Now down the hatch with it.”

My mind was screaming at me then, trying to force me to yell at Christina for not only having a lover, but actually expecting me to drink the cum he had put in her pussy. Such a thing seemed beyond disgusting to me, and I was sure my body would refuse to obey such an order.

In horror, I watched my hand take the small bottle from my wife’s hand, and then bring it to my mouth. My lips opened, and the bottle was raised. When the foul mixture touched my tongue, I tried with all my might to spit it out, but could not make my mouth do such a thing. Instead, my throat began to swallow, and I could feel the slimy goo coat my tongue and then slide down my esophagus. When it landed in my stomach, it seemed to lay there, igniting an inferno in my guts that quickly spread throughout my entire body.

As I was consumed by the raging fire, the seven women watched with intense interest. After uncounted seconds had passed, it seemed as if the fire had begun to concentrate in my crotch, and I experienced a level of sexual arousal never reached before. My penis seemed to expand beyond all reasonable limits, and I could feel my testicles writhing in their prison.

The women were all looking at my trousers, and I was sure they were seeing the tent that was formed by my erection. Christina then said, “John, stand up and get undressed. Take off everything. Do it quickly.”

Again I tried to will my body to follow my orders, and not my wife’s. Again I was unsuccessful, and was soon standing in front of the seven avidly staring women. My hands quickly unbuttoned my shirt and almost tore it off. I stepped out of my shoes, then leaned over to remove my socks. Next came my trousers, followed in short order by my undershorts. In seconds I was completely naked, with my painfully erect cock almost dancing in arousal.

One of the women said, “Good Lord, Christina! I see what you meant when you said he was small. How have you been able to stand it for all those years? I suppose all your lovers have helped make it bearable, though. And of course he’s been a fairly good provider, hasn’t he?”

My wife replied, “As you see, I wasn’t stretching the truth when I said it felt like fucking a little boy. If it weren’t for my lovers, I’m sure I’d have been driven out of my mind. You can see that it’ll be no great loss.” She then laughed, soon joined by the others.

By that time, I was more confused that I’d ever been in my life. I couldn’t fathom a reason why my wife had put me on display like this, and then led the other women in ridiculing the size of my penis. As I fought with the emotion of embarrassment, my brain finally picked up on something else Christina had said. She had obviously had many lovers during our marriage, and much preferred their penises to mine. What she meant by “no great loss” was beyond frightening to me, and I was almost consumed with terror.

The women then stood, and Christina said, “I’ll get him ready now. You know where the things are that we’ll need for the ceremony, so why don’t you get everything set up. We’ll join you in about half an hour. That’ll give us plenty of time to get started on him by 11:00, and he’ll be at the peak by midnight.” They all nodded and murmured in agreement, and as they departed, my wife said, “John, follow me to the master bathroom so I can prepare you.”

She then walked out of the room and up the stairway, followed closely by my traitorous body. With every step, my brain screamed for it to stop, to turn around, to run away, but that had no effect. It continued to walk behind Christina, with its huge erection seeming to point the way.

Once in the bathroom, Christina drew a bath. She ordered me to get in the tub and wash myself, which I did. As I bathed, she began to talk in a dreamy voice, almost as if reliving memories as old as time itself.

“I want to tell you what’s going on, John. It’s always seemed to me that the man’s anticipation of what is to come makes it better somehow, so I want to tell you all about it.”

“First let me say something about my age. I’m sure you’ve always thought we were the same age, and I’ve done nothing to change that belief. You’ve always said how amazed you were that I don’t seem to age, and that part’s true enough. You’ll probably find it very difficult to accept, but I’ll tell you anyway. I don’t know exactly when I was born, just that it was before the Revolutionary War. That would make me over 200 years old, and that’s close enough. After all, a girl always hates to give away her age.” She paused to laugh lightly before continuing.

“I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. Now, as to why I have lived all these years, and still look to be barely over 25 years old. The simple truth is, I’m a witch. I mean a real witch, not one of those namby-pamby Wiccans who just play at witchcraft. My friends and I know how to do things they would never dream possible. Reducing you to a zombie tonight was one of the more simple parts of witchcraft. Men are such simple creatures that it’s almost child’s play to manipulate them. As for the other things we do, I’ll leave that up to your imagination.”

“I’m sure you’re burning with curiosity about how we manage to live so long. That secret was discovered by a woman, or a group of women, many centuries ago. By the way, we call ourselves ‘The Sisterhood’, just in case you’re interested. Anyway, the secret to our longevity is a recipe we call ‘Ageless Stew’. It’s a mixture of herbs and spices from Europe, principally Scotland. There are also two very important ingredients that are contributed by a man. You’ll just have to guess what those will be, in your case.”

“The Sisterhood meets once a year, in covens of seven women, to mix the stew and eat it. Each year, one member brings a man to make his contribution. Since we married, I brought one of my lovers when it was my turn, but for this year’s ceremony, I decided to use you. I’m sure it’ll be very exciting for you to be a part of such an important thing, and you’re probably anxious to get things started.” Again she chuckled in amusement.

“Over the years, I’ve brought several of my husbands to our meetings, and always found it extra exciting. It’s easy enough for us to find lovers, and bring them, but there’s just something better when it’s a husband. Don’t you agree?” She paused, as if waiting for a response, but when I was unable to speak, she went on.

“Now, as to what is expected of you, all you need to know is that we’ll do everything that needs to be done. All you have to do is follow my orders, which I’m sure you’ve realized is not a choice. Your body will obey me, no matter what I tell it to do.”

“There is one very important prohibition you must observe at all costs. No matter how excited, how aroused, you become during the ceremony, you must not cum. You’ll feel the most horrible pain in your cock and balls, and know that it can be relieved only by cumming, but you must not do that. When we are ready for you to cum, I’ll give that order. Until you hear that order, you may not cum.”

“I’m sure you’re just burning up with questions, but there’s not enough time for me to answer them. The girls are waiting for us, so I need to get you ready.”

She then told me to stand facing her, and when I had done so she used a pair of scissors to trim as much as possible of my pubic hair. She then applied shave cream to my crotch and expertly shaved everything there, finally pronouncing me smooth enough. Once again I was told to sit in the tub, and then to rinse myself. Following that, she ordered me to get out and dry myself quickly, which I did.

As soon as she was satisfied with my appearance, Christina said, “Follow me. We’re going to the back yard now. The girls should have everything ready, and we can get started on you.” She then walked into the hallway, with my aching cock and balls right behind.

As we walked into the yard, I could see the group of six women standing around a small fire they had kindled close to a large tree about 100′ from the house. As we walked closer to the fire, I could see there was a tripod set up over the blaze, formed of three large metal rods. A small kettle was hanging from the tripod, and Rachel was just then adding some ingredient and stirring it into the bubbling liquid.

She looked up as we entered the firelight, then grimaced as she stared at my throbbing manhood. Finally she asked, “Is that as big as it gets? Surely there won’t be enough for all of us.”

Christina replied, “You know the effect of the potion as well as I do. His cock is as big as possible. I’m sure it feels like it’s ready to split open right now, if not explode. I know it’s pretty small, but we can make do. We’ve done it before. Remember the pencil dick Dierdre brought right after World War I? John is big compared to that one.” The women laughed as they recalled a shared memory, but laughter was the farthest thing from my mind right then. My penis did indeed feel as if it were about to burst, and my testicles were throbbing with the worst case of blueballs I’d ever had.

Rachel then said, “That’s the last of the ingredients, except for his. It’s already after 11:00. Don’t you think we’d better get started on him now? I’ve always thought that was the best part of this whole thing, anyway. By the way, are you sure the neighbors won’t hear him screaming?”

Christina laughed, then said, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that part, sweetie. The potion won’t let him do much more than moan and groan. Even if he did manage to scream, the nearest neighbors are a long ways off. I think we’re all ready now, so let’s get started.”

She then ordered me to walk over to the tree and stand under a rope that was hanging there, it having been thrown over a horizontal limb about 10′ above the ground. I was told to hold my hands out, with the wrists together, and she bound them tightly with the rope.

When satisfied with her effort, she said, “Okay, that ought to hold. Let’s get him up.” With that, she and the six other women began to pull on the free end of the rope, and I felt myself being lifted off the ground. When my feet were completely in the air, they tied the end to the trunk of the tree, leaving me swinging slowly.

The pain in my shoulders was almost enough to make me forget about my throbbing cock and balls, but not quite. I was sure my arms would soon be torn free, but even that agony couldn’t compete with the pure fire that consumed my genitals. More than anything, I wanted this to end, no matter what the cost to me.

My wife’s voice broke through the red haze of pain, saying, “John, we’re going to do some things to you now that may hurt a little bit. When a man feels great pain, certain drugs are released into his bloodstream, and those are an important part of the recipe. Please understand that I truly do love you, but I need to do these things to you. Are you ready?”

There was no way for me to reply, other that to make an agonized moan. She interpreted that as my assent, and then held out her hand to one of the other women. As I looked at them standing there, I saw each held a vicious-looking black leather whip. Christina took one of those in her hand, and then signaled for her companions to form a circle around me.

She was standing directly in front of my now-still body, and looked at me lovingly as she raised her whip as high as she could. She then brought it down will all her might, and her target was my dancing penis. That first blow was a signal to the others to begin, and an unending cascade of whip strokes began to strike every part of my body.

Over and over the whips rained blows on my naked skin, which was stretched tight by the rope suspending me. I was sure my skin was being shredded, and wished for nothing more than to pass out. That relief was denied me though, apparently by the potion I’d been given shortly before. I tried to give voice to my agony, but even that was beyond my ability. Nothing but ragged moans and gasping breaths came from my throat.

After some unknown span of time, I realized that my body was spinning slowly as I hung there, and that the women were concentrating their strokes on my genitals as those targets were presented to them. Christina ordered me to spread my legs as much as possible, and as I struggled to obey, the thongs caressed the new target every time it passed by. The waves of horrible burning pain that shot from my balls to every square inch of my body were beyond belief. Surely I couldn’t survive such pain, and I’d die while hanging there.

The escape was denied me, and I simply became a mindless, pain-wracked creature. I was sure I was in the deepest pit of Hell then, and there would never be an end to it.

There was an end, of course, but by the time it came my body was burning so intensely that I found no relief. Christina gripped my penis as it turned slowly by her, bringing my body to a halt. She looked into my eyes, then asked, “John, can you hear me?”

I was unable to speak, and struggled to nod my head. She said, “He’s not hurting enough yet. Give me six of the needles.”

One of the women handed her something that glinted ominously in the reflected light of the fire. Through my pain-glazed eyes, I saw my wife was holding several very long, extremely thin needles. Before I had time to react, she took my bobbing manhood in one hand and held the point of one of the needles against its head with the other. She began to slowly push the needle into the head of my cock, sending fresh waves of agonizing pain shooting up the shaft and bursting into my abdomen.

I know I was sobbing frantically by then, and trying with all my might to pull my body away from Christina’s hands. It was no longer in my control, and would do nothing other than hang there limply, waiting for the next wave of pain.

That soon came, as the second needle was inserted in my tender flesh, then pushed completely through it, stopping only when at last centered. Again and again, until every needle was in place, I felt the agony and the burning of the penetration.

Through a red haze of pain, I again heard my wife asking if I could hear her. Again my head nodded, even though I raged at it to remain still. With disappointment, as well as intense lust, in her voice, she said, “Still not enough. Give me the rest of them.”

There is no way to explain the extreme terror I felt as she was given more of the needles, this time appearing to be at least twice as many as before. She began pushing them very slowly through the shaft of my throbbing member, right behind the head, again stopping only when they were centered in the thing. I could do nothing other than groan and gasp with the pain each invader gave me, and prayed over and over for death.

By the time Christina stopped pushing the needles through my shaft, the thing looked like a branch of cactus, covered with spines. Again she pronounced my suffering as not enough, and began pushing the remaining half dozen needles through my throbbing balls. When those were at last in place, she seemed to lose all patience with my lack of cooperation, and almost screamed, “I’ve had it with his worthless little dick! Give me the poker!”

Rachel leaned over the edge of the red-hot coals, and pulled a length of metal rod out of them. The tip was glowing with heat, and even in my semi-conscious state, I knew the purpose of the thing. My wife took the poker from her friend and held it out towards me. Even though my throat was unable to form words, the formless sounds that came from it expressed my terror.

She ordered, “Keep your legs spread as widely as possible. I’m going to cook your balls to give you more pain. You must get the drugs in your bloodstream quickly, or midnight will have passed.” The tip of the poker was then held between my legs, a few inches below my sac.

I would have welcomed death then, and longed for it. There is simply no way to describe the agony that rocked me as the heat soaked into my testicles. I was sure they were in flames, and couldn’t understand why I continued to live.

At last Christina moved the poker away from me, and then once again looked directly at me. Again she said, “John, can you hear me?” Again I nodded my confirmation, and again she said, “Still not enough pain. This should do it.”

She then placed the heated tip of the poker, one by one, against the needles that were embedded in the head of my penis, and held it there. As I smelled the cooking flesh, a scream tore from my drugged throat. This time, when she asked her question, I was unable to respond in any manner. She then said, “He’s ready. Get the pot.”

I have a memory of what came then, but it is not clear. I know that Dierdre removed the pot from the tripod and carried it toward me. I know that Christina handed the poker to one of the other women, and then placed one hand carefully on my penis, trying to avoid the needles. She then stroked it while saying, “Cum now, John. I want you to empty every single drop from your balls. Keep cumming until there is no more left. Cum now!”

What swept over me then cannot be described. To call it an orgasm would have no meaning. It was nothing more than the most intense, most painful thing that had ever happened to me. I have no way of knowing how long my cock spurted, or how much semen I shot into the kettle, but I do know that long before my spasms stopped, there was simply nothing left to be ejected from my body.

At some point my cock must have stopped its attempts to rid my body of its semen, because I know that Christina said, “Thank you for your sperm, my love. Just one ingredient left, and then it’ll all be over.”

She then took a short length of cord from Rachel and wrapped it tightly around the base of my penis, as close as possible to my abdomen. I didn’t realize until then that one of the other women had been pulling my member with all her might, trying to stretch it as much as possible. Because of the intense pain in my crotch, and indeed in my whole body, I didn’t even feel the cord as it sank almost out of sight in my flesh.

Christina then used a second piece of the cord to apply another tourniquet about ½″ closer to the head of my cock, again tightening it until it sank into me. She then asked, “Dierdre, what time is it? Are we ready now?”

The other woman replied that it was two minutes until midnight, and everything was in readiness. Christina then held out her hand again, and this time a very ornate knife, with gold and jewels forming the handle, was given her. She held the cutting edge between the cords, just barely touching the flesh of my penis, then paused as if waiting for a signal.

That signal came when Dierdre said, “Thirty seconds. Start now.”

Christina began chanting something in a language unknown to me, but in the final sentence said, “Thank you for this gift, my husband. It will give us long life.” She then very lightly began to move the blade back and forth in a sawing motion, while holding my penis still with her other hand.

I’m sure there must have been pain from what my wife was doing to me, but I was simply overloaded by then, and nothing registered. When at last she held my severed manhood before me, and then kissed it before dropping the still-erect thing in the stewpot, I had no emotions left. My body was an empty husk, and my mind was shut down. The last words I remember hearing were, “Sleep now, my love. You have done your part.”

My memories between then and the time I awakened in bed Monday morning are so hazy that I’m not sure if they’re memories, or just dreams. I seem to recall being in the bathroom, and Christina’s voice telling me to sit on the toilet. I think she was telling me to hold something she called a “deflector” in front of me so I wouldn’t make a mess. I’m sure that at one point I was in the bathtub, but again it could be more dream than reality. I believe there were several times during that period when I gave oral sex to my wife, although again it could be more fantasy than actual.

My first true memory was of coming awake with Christina softly whispering in my ear. I had the impression she’d been talking to me for quite some time by then, but the first words I’m sure of were, “Wake up now, my love.”

I opened my eyes to see her incredibly lovely face looking at me, and was virtually overwhelmed with my passion, with my love for her. I knew deep in my soul that she was the only woman in the world I could ever love, and that I would do anything she ever asked of me. I had always felt that I loved my wife, but before that moment the depths of my love could not compare to what I then felt.

She asked, “Did you sleep well, dear heart?”

I nodded my head in answer, realizing then that I felt more truly rested than ever before in my life. As soon as that opinion was given, though, the memories of Halloween night came flooding back with all the force of a tidal wave.

I said, “I had the most incredible dream, and you and your friends were in it. It was the most intense dream I’ve ever had, and it still seems very real to me now. I wonder what could have made me dream like that?”

She smiled secretly, then replied, “What did you dream?”

I was intensely embarrassed to tell her about my dream, but something compelled me to begin relating it. I sought to hide the more revealing parts by saying, “It happened on Halloween night. In my dream, you and your friends took me out to the back yard and did things to me. Somehow I had the idea that you were using me to make some sort of witches brew that would allow you to live for hundreds of years. Pretty weird, huh?”

She said, “Maybe not. Tell me exactly what we did to you in the back yard.”

She waited expectantly while I fought with my inhibitions to relate such an intensely personal dream, as opposed to an overwhelming need to obey what my wife had told me to do. Finally I began, in a subdued voice, “You had shaved all my pubic hair here in the master bathroom, after telling me you were actually more than 200 years old.” I paused then and looked at her, hoping to see her amused smile at such an outlandish thing, but she said nothing.

Finally I continued, “You told me you and your friends were going to make something called ‘Ageless Stew’, and it would allow you to remain young for a long time. You said I would be responsible for two of the main ingredients in the stew. You then led me to the back yard, where your friends were waiting around a fire with a kettle hanging over it. Rachel was mixing something into the stew, and when we approached she said it was all ready for my contributions.”

“You tied my wrists together with a rope that was hanging across a tree limb, and then all of you pulled on the rope to suspend me in the air. You gathered in a circle around me and started whipping me, especially my penis, which was bigger and harder than it’d ever been. After awhile, you made me spread my legs, and then started me spinning very slowly on the rope. While I rotated, you all took turns whipping my balls.”

“Finally you brought me to a stop and said I wasn’t feeling enough pain, and asked for the needles. You pushed them one at a time through the head of my cock, until all of them were centered in it. Even with that I wasn’t in enough pain to satisfy you, so you asked for more needles. You pushed them through the shaft of my cock, and then six more through my balls.

Again you said I wasn’t hurting enough, and asked Rachel to hand you a poker that was heating in the fire. When you held it under my balls, I could feel them cooking, and thought I’d die from the pain. Even that wasn’t enough for you, so you held the red-hot poker against the needles and cooked the head of my penis.”

“I don’t know how I kept from passing out, but it just seemed that I couldn’t do it. I remember thinking that I’d do anything to end the pain, and hoped you’d help me get rid of it. Then you ordered me to cum in the stew pot, and not to stop until every drop was out of me. When I’d done that, you tied two cords around my cock, and then cut it off with a knife. I remember watching as you dropped it in the kettle, and being fascinated with how it just floated there, still hard as a rock. Then I went to sleep.”

Relating my dream had made it seem all the more real to me, and I had to pause to clear my throat several times, and to allow my breathing to even. When my eyes cleared, I looked at Christina’s beautiful face, expecting to see either amusement at the outlandish dream, or maybe even disgust at such a perverted thing.

She said nothing, but instead took the bedcovers in one hand and flipped them back, revealing my body. At her simple, “Look”, my eyes lowered to my crotch, and time seemed to stand still for me.

Instead of seeing the penis that had been my constant companion all my life, I saw a ring of pinkish-red tissue where it was once attached. My balls were still there, but looked very odd without their former friend covering part of them. I then realized, almost as an afterthought, the reason I could see everything so much more clearly was that my pubic hair had been removed.

After staring at my crotch for several seconds, I turned my head to look at my wife. Her expression was one of amusement, and it seemed she’d break into laughter at any time. Finally, I said in a hoarse whisper, “It was true, wasn’t it? It really happened.”

She nodded her head in confirmation, then answered, “Yes. Everything you remember from your ‘dream’ really happened. It’s all true.” She paused then, apparently seeing the look of shock and horror on my face, and continued, “Are you sorry for what happened, my husband? Do you wish you’d never met me?”

The depth of emotion I felt then was almost overpowering. Almost in tears, I replied, “Oh, God, no! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you more than life itself! Don’t ever think anything else!”

Even as that outburst swept over me, a small part of my brain knew that the love I felt for Christina then was of a far different type, and far more intense, that what I’d felt up until Friday night. It was almost as if some powerful compulsion had been seated in my brain, and it made me love my wife, and desire her, so strongly. That small part was soon shoved to the background, and my only thought was to do everything in my power to please this beautiful, this wonderful, person who had consented to take the gifts I so freely offered to her and to her friends.

She could obviously read my mental state very well, for she asked, “Do you have any regrets about what we did to you? Would you turn back the clock if you could?”

Again the powerful emotions swept over me, and I had to clear my throat before I was able to reply, “I don’t regret a single thing. I only wish you had done that to me long before, and that you could do it over and over. Please take any part of my body that you want. It’s yours, heart and soul, and any other part you can name.”

I meant that sincerely, and still do now, almost eleven months after it happened. If I had another penis to offer to my wife, I would beg her to take it from me, knowing it would bring her a longer life. If necessary, I’d cut it off myself and offer it to her. Nothing else can be said to explain my emotions, they’re just there, a very basic part of me.

After I had calmed, she asked, “Are you angry that I have taken lovers? Does that make you jealous?”

I examined my reaction for a split second before replying, “No. Not at all. You were driven to it by my smallness. I’m totally at blame for not giving you what you needed. If other men are more satisfying to you, then please don’t hesitate to take all the lovers you want. I’ll help in every way I can. Just let me be part of your life. Please.”

She smiled very sweetly, then said, “My dear husband, you’ll be a very big part of my life. As for my taking lovers, don’t worry on that score. I have had many of them during my very long lifespan, and intend to have many more.” She paused as if trying to gather her thoughts, then continued, “When you think of other men fucking me, and filling me with their semen, what do you feel?”

Again it took less than a split second for me to reply, “My chest and throat get so tight I can barely breathe or speak. I feel an intense burning ache in my crotch, almost like the strongest arousal I’ve ever had. Most of all, though, I feel an aching emptiness in my stomach, almost like an overpowering hunger.”

Her smile was her only response for a long while, and then she said softly, “That’s as it should be. Everything worked.” She then seemed to awake from her reverie before saying, “My lover has been here in our bed the entire weekend, while you were sleeping so soundly. He left about an hour ago, in fact, but not before he once again filled my pussy with his semen. I’ve been lying here with my legs closed tightly, waiting for you to awaken.”

She again paused, then looked deeply into my eyes and asked simply, “Do you want it?”

I was so overcome with excitement, with arousal, with lust that I could barely speak. Instead, of a long answer, I lay flat on my back and begged, “Please”.

Christina quickly sat up, and then swung one leg over my body. She centered her crotch above my face, allowing me to gaze in rapture at her pussy covered with her lover’s cum, which was even then beginning to form a large drop of the wonderful substance. When she didn’t lower her delicious vagina to me, I reached up with both hands and drew her downward.

The scent and the taste of their mixed juices was indescribable. I knew then that never before in my life had I tasted or smelled anything even close to being that delicious. I licked and sucked furiously, desperate to get every drop of what she was allowing me to take from her. It seemed there was no end to it, and I sucked and swallowed time after time, trying to fill the void in my empty stomach.

I could tell she was becoming aroused by my attentions, both by her moans of delight and the growing hardness of her love bud. At last she cried out and began to squeeze my head so tightly that I was afraid she’d simply crush my skull. Even now, I remember thinking that dying in that way would be the best possible way to leave this earth, and I would have no regrets if that’s what happened. But most of all, I remember the spurt after spurt of mixed cum that was forced into my mouth. It was beyond delicious, and there are no words to describe how much I wanted it, how much I craved it.

As her orgasm at last came to an end, Christina slumped forward, supported only by her outstretched arms. When her breathing evened, she moved down a short ways and sat lightly on my chest. She looked down at me and smiled dreamily, then asked, “Was that good for you too?”

I could only nod my head at first, then was able to say in a hoarse whisper, “Yes. It was the best ever.”

She said, “It sounds like you enjoy eating another man’s cum from my pussy almost as much as I enjoy feeding it to you. I first did that to one of my husbands many, many years ago, and it still excites me just as much as it did then. I don’t even try to explain it; I just do it.”

With almost no pause, she continued, “There are other things I’ll find equally exciting to do to you, and to watch being done to you. One of them, or maybe I should say a few of them, we’ll do tonight. Do you want me to tell you about them?”

I nodded, then whispered a breathless, “Please”, barely able to speak around the tightness in my throat as I thought of how much pleasure I’d soon be giving this wonderful person. There was nothing in the world I wouldn’t do to give her the slightest pleasure, and all she needed to do was ask.

She continued, “I find it very stimulating to watch men pleasuring each other. When Bret comes to our bed tonight, I want to watch you make slow love to his cock and his balls, licking them everywhere and then inhaling his magnificent penis. I’ve given him a special potion that makes his cock stay hard for hours at a time, and his balls produce enormous amounts of cum. When he finally shoots it into your mouth, I want to watch your throat swallow each mouthful, and your stomach swell as it tries to hold all of it.”

“When he’s finished filling your tummy, I want to watch him use you as a woman. His cock is much bigger than your little thing ever was, and you’ll probably feel like he’s splitting you wide open when he pushes it inside you. I just know it’ll be very thrilling to listen to you whine at first, and then to scream in pain as he forces the thing deeper and deeper inside you. After he’s fucked you for awhile, I want you to beg him to allow you to lick and suck him clean. I get all wet just thinking about that.”

Her eyes cleared then, and she assumed a more serious expression. She asked, “Are you still hungry and thirsty?”

In fact, those two things were foremost in my mind right then, and I was sure she actually could read my mind. Again I nodded, then answered meekly, “Yes”.

She smiled for a few seconds before saying, “Good. A husband can be taught to serve his wife in other ways with his mouth. I’m going to give you your first lesson now.”

She then moved forward, but this time when she lowered her pussy my nose was completely inside its soft, fragrant folds. She then adjusted her position until her puckered opening was directly over my lips, and said very softly, “Open”.

I obeyed.