Magic Lessons Part 3

This story contains scenes of non-consensual, reluctant, and mind-controlled sex, including bondage, fetishism, male-female, and female-female sex. Readers below the age of eighteen should stop reading now.

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

Julia turned on the radio of her hire car. A smooth electro-pop beat began to pipe through the quad speakers of the car, drowning out the air conditioning. She did not know the tune, but it was pleasant enough to drive to. An electronic purr curled through the background of the song, and then the lyrics kicked in.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

They were the kind of high intelligence lyrics Julia was used to in modern pop songs. Well, what the hell.

I just can't get you out of my head,

Boy your lovin' is all I think about.

I just can't get you out of my head,

Boy it's more than I dare to think about.

She turned the radio off and the music died a sudden death. Images of Michael surfaced in her mind unbidden. Images of him fucking her over the breakfast table. Images of him eating her pussy while Lucy looked in. Images of him buried to the hilt in Lucy's cunt as the blonde cheerleader rode him to climax.

She shook her head to try to clear it and turned the last corner into the parking lot of the hotel she was staying at. Thoughts of Michael were lost in the hassle of checking into a hotel.

Full from a very fine evening meal and pleasantly inebriated from a couple of glasses of a very nice Zinfandel, Julia pushed the door of her room shut with her back and kicked off her heels. She rubbed her feet and walked down the short hall into the room. Her dress was next, a conservative little number in her view, cut to below mid-thigh. She unzipped it at the back and allowed it to slide to the floor. She sighed as the air conditioned atmosphere of the room touched her bare skin, and then headed toward the bathroom, thumping a button (any button) on the TV remote control as she passed it. She made it into the bathroom before the TV kicked into life and sound started coming out.

I just can't get you out of my head,

Boy your lovin' is all I think about.

Julia spat water over the bathroom mirror and darted out into the hall. Was someone trying to mess with her head?

I just can't get you out of my head,

Boy it's more than I dare to think about.

Every night, every day.

Just to be there in your arms.

On the screen, a little blonde nymphet in a white, cowl-necked gown cut so that the front fell between her breasts to below her belly button, was bopping away in a manner that should have displayed her assets to all the world.

Won't you stay?

Won't you lay?

Stay forever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

La, la, la...

Julia had no idea who the girl was, but she had a body to die for. She looked a bit like the girl that ran the coffee shop, but with less chest.

I just can't get you out of my head...

Flickering images of Lucy's face looking up with her tongue busy on Julia's clit danced before her eyes. She same image, but she could see Michael pumping into the blonde's pussy at the same time.

...it's more than I dare to think about.

There's a dark secret in me,

Don't leave me locked in your heart.

Set me free.

Feel the need in me...

Julia let out a small moan and stabbed the off button on the remote. The voice died and Julia threw herself onto the bed. She reached for the phone.

“Michael,” his mother yelled up the stairs. “Phone. It's Lucy.”

Michael stretched and picked up the cordless phone from his bedside table. He waited until his mother put her extension down and then said, “Hi, lover, feeling wet?”

“Michael? Sorry, it's not Lucy, it's Julia. I didn't want your mother knowing it was me.”

Shit. “Um, sorry Miss…”

“Michael, please can we go back to you calling me Julia?” There was a slight note of pleading in her voice and Michael knew then that he had been forgiven.

“So, I thought you were in Atlanta?” he said.

“I am, thank goodness for AT&T calling cards.”

He grinned, though she could not see it. “You didn't have to call me just to tell me to use your first name, y'know.”

“True. Thing is, I'm being haunted by a blonde singer.”

“Beg pardon?”

Julia laughed, a musical, happy sound. Michael felt better about himself than he had all week. “I needed to hear your voice, Michael. Just talk to me. What have you been doing today?”

“Fucking mostly,” he replied. “I needed to make up with Lucy, like you said, and she very much wanted to do something depraved. We happened to meet a girl I screwed once, she runs that coffee shop at the bottom of the office building you took me to.” Visions of the coffee girl, breasts hanging out of a white gown danced before Julia's eyes. “Lucy and I went off with her and enjoyed ourselves a lot.” Michael knew his conversational skills were limited. Time to turn the tables. “What's your room like? Describe it to me.”

Julia looked around the room and sighed. “Typical Corporate America-style hotel room,” she said. “The walls are beige and papered. There's a band of patterned paper up at the top of the wall that's supposed to be decorative. Green and red swirls on it. I've got two paintings, well prints, to look at. There's an obnoxious little girl in a frilly pink dress, and a landscape, a Turner I think.”

Michael closed his eyes and began to imagine the room Julia was telling him about. “There are two queen-size beds. I don't like kings when I'm sleeping alone and I had no plans for picking anyone up this trip.” She sounded lonely then. “The headboard runs between both beds, there are stupid little cabinets that aren't much use for putting anything in. The main storage space is out in the hall, next to the bathroom. That's about it.”

“No TV? What about the lights? Don't you have windows?”

“Oh, yeah, there's a TV cabinet with some drawers under it. There's a desk in the corner with another phone on it and one of those high-speed network connection boxes. It's a fake-leather top thing, pretty tacky. Two spot halogen bulbs in the ceiling, but I've just got one of the bedside lights on. The whole wall opposite is glass. I suppose I should close the curtains.”

“What about you? Where are you sitting? What are you wearing?”

Julia felt her breath quicken as she thought about her answer. “I'm lying on the bed nearest the door. There's a phone beside the bed here and I'm calling you on that. I took my shoes off when I came into the room, they were high heeled sandals. I ate a lot for dinner so my dress was feeling a bit tight when I came in. I took that off, too. It was a little black thing with a scooped neck.”

“How long?” he asked. His voice sounded breathy.

“Mid-thigh. It's the longest one I have that isn't floor length. It's quite fitted though, and lined. I should have known it would get uncomfortable. It's on the floor beside the bed.”

“So, what does that leave you wearing?” he breathed.

“Thigh-highs with a three-inch lace pattern at the top,” she said. “A stretch lace thong. Black and skimpy. Oh, and a black lace bra that's cut quite low on my breasts. You can just see the tops of my areolas above the lace.” She could hear Michael breathing at the other end of the phone; it seemed a little harder than usual. She could understand the feeling.

“Mmm, yeah, I can just see you lying there, Julia,” Michael said. “You look good, I think.”

“Why thank you kind sir,” she replied with a giggle.

“I think you'd look better without that bra, though,” he said. “Why don't you undo it?”

“Okay. I have to sit up to reach the hooks. One gone, the second one. There, I'm free. I'm slipping the shoulder strap down one arm now. I have to swap the phone to the other hand so I can get the other strap off. Ooh! The air's cold on my skin, my nipples are standing up.”

“Are they hard?”

“Oh, very hard.”

“Touch one of them. Stroke it. Squeeze it.”

“Oh, yeah, that's good. What now, Michael?”

Michael was distracted by a need to unzip his jeans before his cock split them open. “How about you slide your hand down that lovely flat stomach of yours? Slide it down to your panties.”

“Yes?”

“Now slip your fingers into your panties.”

“Umm, yes.”

“Are you wet? Are you waiting for your fingers to find your clit?”

“Ah, yes.”

Michael felt like he could really see her stretching her arm down under the front of her thong, her fingers tenting the fabric. “Or would you prefer my cock inside you? Is that what you want?”

“Oh, Michael, yes, that's want I want. I want to feel that big swollen shaft of yours inside me.”

“Open your legs out for me,” he groaned.

“I've spread them wide apart,” she replied.

Here I come,” he said and, in his mind's eye, he drove into her pussy through the fabric of her thong.

In an Atlanta hotel room, Julia felt Michael's cock enter her pussy. It felt so good, lying there with her knees spread apart, to have him fucking her again that for a brief instant she failed to realise that he was not actually there. “Ooooh, yeah, that feels so good. Yes, Michael, fuck me hard.” His cock slid out almost all the way and then began a pounding rhythm in her vagina. She gasped in pleasure and surprise. “I can feel you, Michael. I can really feel you!” The pumping action did not stop, in fact it got faster. Julia's eyes glazed over. “Fuck me, Michael, fuck me harder.”

In his bedroom, Michael could feel the velvet gloved fist of Julia's pussy wrapped around his cock. He was, he knew, imagining it, but it felt real. He heard her voice asking for him to fuck her and he complied, driving his shaft deep into her cunt in a manner that would have been too violent if she had really been under him.

Julia pulled her hand out of her panties and grabbed hold of a nipple, pulling and twisting, trying to break it off. Her pussy felt as though it was being abused by a hammer-action drill and she loved it. An orgasm was building deep inside her and when it arrived she knew the neighbours would here her.

Michael had to drop the phone as Julia began screaming out her climax into his ear. He didn't stop his pounding into her imaginary body, however. He could feel her thrashing against him, her heels pressed into the small of his back as he rode her to his own climax. He sagged onto the bed and picked up the phone again.

“Th-that was incredible,” he said.

“You don't know the half of it,” he heard from the other end of the phone line. “I really must talk to you about doing the impossible, you know.” She sighed. “I'd better go clean up and get some rest,” she said. “I have a meeting in the morning.”

Michael realised he had cum in his shorts. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I need a shower myself.”

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he heard her say, “and you can do that again.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lucy opened her eyes to find herself looking at a pair of feet. This was pretty odd, but the fact that seemed to be upside down was stranger. She tried to rearrange the view, and found she could barely move, and that was when she realised she was hanging upside down in a suspension frame, her arms stretched out to the sides and her legs spread wide. She was also quite naked apart from her collar.

“Hi, Lucy.” It was Michael's voice, which was reassuring. She looked up (down?) and saw that the feet were his. “It occurred to me that the only person who didn't get tied up this afternoon was you,” he said. “So I thought we should rectify that.” He brought his hand around from behind his back so that she could see the cat-o-nine-tails-style whip he was holding. “And I thought it might be interesting to see what a little thrashing did for you.”

“No, Michael, I'm really not into…” He brought the lash down across one of her legs. “Oh! That… didn't hurt.” Actually, it had felt quite good, like a hundred tiny points of pleasure flashing down the length of her leg.

“I'll have to try somewhere else then,” said Michael, and he walked around to the back of the frame. “Here, perhaps.” The lash smacked into her back and Lucy lurched forward in her frame letting out a small whimper. “How was that?”

Lucy could not speak. The sensation had been a wonderful combination of stinging pain and intense pleasure. “N-not sure,” she got out before another stroke of the whip caught her over her lower back and bottom. “Ooh!” Another stroke in the same place and Lucy had a feeling that something about what was happening was not right. Her pussy was getting wet and her nipples were up. Each stroke of the whip seemed to drive into her pleasure centres as well as stinging her skin.

She was also feeling a little drunk. The blood was rushing to her head making her feel light-headed. Another strike of the whip caught her across the shoulders and she let out a moan. The next was high, wrapping around her inner thigh. It should have been painful, but the pleasure overcame the hurt, and Lucy felt an orgasm beginning.

Michael appeared in front of her once more, standing to the side. The lash came down across her stomach. “Oh, god, Michael, what's happening to me?”

He smiled, bringing the whip down across her breasts. Her eyes closed as the leather strips cut into the sensitive skin, but the sensation of pleasure was intense enough that she almost came. “This is a dream, lover, and here things work how I want. If I want you to feel pleasure from the whip…” It fell across her breasts again and Lucy's body thrashed in her tethers.

“C-can't take much more,” she groaned out.

“Really,” Michael replied, and brought the lash down between her legs. The leather felt like torture, biting into the skin of her pussy and ass, but it also felt like the best fuck she had had in ages. The lash fell again and Lucy's climax flared through her body like mains electricity. She thrashed in the frame as the lash came down once more, piling pleasure on pain on pleasure. Another stroke and her body stiffened, back arched, muscles locked in ecstasy.

She collapsed then, her breathing ragged and her heart pounding. The frame held her up and she was glad for it; she knew she could not stand. She managed to look up to see Michael smiling down at her, then the world seemed to twist and she was lying in a white bed among huge pillows, and Michael was beside her.

“God, but you're a wonderful bastard at times, Michael,” she whispered.

“Thank you, I think.”

“How about fucking my brains out now?”

Michael slipped on top of her and she felt the head of his cock settling between her pussy lips. “I think that could be arranged,” he said.

The following day Lucy met Michael at the mall, but today she was in jeans and a T-shirt. “Not your usual dressing-up clothes these days,” Michael commented as she sipped her coffee.

“No, but last night's dream had a result I wasn't expecting,” she replied. She pushed back in her seat and pulled the front of her shirt up so that he could see her stomach. Slim, red lines could be seen across her skin; whip marks.

“Shit! D-do they hurt?”

“Surprisingly, no. Even the ones across my pussy.”

Michael went bright pink. “Um, wow, I'm sorry, Lucy. It was just a dream; there shouldn't be any effects like that.” He took a gulp of coffee. “I'll ask Julia about it when she calls tonight.”

“She's talking to you again then?”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned. “We had a really interesting conversation yesterday evening.”

“This sounds like something I want to hear about. C'mon, spill.”

“Well, it could happen,” Julia said. “I told you that stuff in the astral plane can affect the real world sometimes.”

“This was in the dream world, not the astral.”

Julia shrugged, an ineffectual action over the phone. “Shit happens,” she said. “You have unusual talent, be careful with it. I'd imagine if you can create the marks on her body, you can also fix them in the dream and she won't have them when she wakes up.”

“Okay,” Michael said. It was not the answer he had hoped, but it would have to do, he guessed. “Where are you sitting?” he asked, a smile playing over his mouth. “What are you wearing?”

Julia shivered in anticipation at his words. “I'm sitting at the little desk, beside the window. I was late getting back after my meeting so I ordered room service and I've just finished eating. I haven't undressed yet; I'm still wearing my business suit. Sheer silk blouse, tailored jacket, skirt to mid-thigh, black, seamed stockings, and my heeled sandals.”

“Have you drawn the curtains yet?”

“No, let me just…”

“Stop! Stand up and turn to face the window. What can you see?”

She looked out into the Atlanta night. “About two hundred years away, across the hotel parking lot and the road, is another hotel. I can see various room lights on, some have closed drapes. One of the parking lot lights is right below me; it shines in through the window if I don't draw the curtains.”

“Good. Take off your jacket,” he commanded.

She unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it off one shoulder, swapping the phone to her other hand before allowing the jacket to drop to the floor behind her. “It's off,” she told him.

“Now unbutton your blouse. Don't take it off yet, just let it hang open.” He waited while her fingers undid the little pearl buttons. Her breathing was getting harder and Michael's mind filled with the view standing beside her looking out into the night. Her right hand working out of sight behind her body, only the movement of her arm betrayed what was happening.

“That's done,” she whispered.

“What are you wearing under it?”

“A white lace, half-cup bra,” she breathed. “It opens at the front.”

“Undo the hooks. Now put a hand up to one of those gorgeous nipples of yours.” In his mind's eye, Michael walked up behind her. “Squeeze it, Julia.” He heard a moan from the other end of the phone. “Squeeze it hard for me.”

“Um, yes.”

“Look across the street, Julia. Imagine all the eyes that could be watching you from the hotel. They're watching you squeeze on your tit. And now they're going to watch you take off your blouse and your bra. Do it for me, Julia. Do it for all those people watching you.”

Drawing in a ragged breath, Julia slipped her blouse off one shoulder, then the other. The bra came with it, and the two items of clothing dropped to the ground behind her making barely a sound. Michael imagined himself standing beside her, reaching around to cup her breasts in his hands. He reached out to gently grip her nipples, pulling on them a little, and Julia groaned. “All those eyes, Julia,” he whispered. “All those eyes watching me squeeze your breasts. Watching this wanton woman standing in a window while her breasts are fondled by a younger man. Take off your skirt.”

“Um, don't stop doing that,” she moaned, but her hands were busy at her side unhooking and unzipping her skirt. The pin-striped wool fell into a pool around her feet and she stepped out of it, kicking it aside.

“What are you wearing under it?”

“The stockings are a match for the ones I was wearing yesterday; stay-ups with a three-inch pattern. I'm wearing a white lace g-string with them, nothing else.”

“Take off your panties.” She hooked her thumbs into the strings at either side of her hips and pushed down the scrap of lacy fabric. She slipped it off one past one pointed heel, then the other and tossed it aside. Immediately she felt Michael's hands on her ass, squeezing the cheeks, kneading her flesh. “Spread your legs for me. I find the thought of you standing their in stockings and high heels very exciting. I'm sure all those other people in the other hotel are excited as well. Don't you?”

“Oh yes,” she whispered. She could feel his hands slipping down between her legs, parting her pussy lips. “The men are stroking themselves and wishing they were you, and the women are wishing they had your big cock inside them.”