Telekinesis Ch 05

Many thanks to MormonJack for edits and crits.

Chapter 5

I made Kayla come. I made Kayla come so hard with my finger zapping her pierced clit and my cock at her throat and my hand pushing her deeper that, when she yelled, my cock plunged all the way into her as far as my engorged erection could possibly reach and her nose banged against my pelvis. She came again and jerked and jumped and made useless waggles with her bound arms and came some more and choked and came again and again.

She gasped some unintelligible words when I released her, her face now buried in my crotch. "Hol' fu'in' shi'," she managed to hoarsely pronounce. "Tha'--" She swallowed, not my cream, I'd made it through it all without coming-- "was the most fucking amazing--"

But I wasn't nearly done with her. While she was incapacitated I took advantage of her, still bound and blindfolded. I redid her cuffs to clip her wrists to her ankles so she was bent into a permanent crouch. Or as I rolled her onto knees, stuck with her head in the cushions and her ass up in the air, permanent doggie style. My practice with Samantha made the transition swift.

I took advantage of her predicament immediately and again without mercy. Just the way I knew she wanted it. I plowed and rammed and pounded her cunt while she was still trembling from the previous orgasms I'd forced on her. It was too much and she tried to crawl away from the fucking but of course that was impossible. She was helpless. She had to come. I gave her body no choice. I decided she was going to come and used all my physical and TK powers on her so she came. I decided she would keep coming so she continued to come. I had no intention of ever letting her stop coming so she gave up resisting and came endlessly and begged and begged.

"Oh, please, I can't, I can't." I put her on her side, lifted a leg-arm linkage up and pushed my cock in deeper, making her come even harder, if that were possible.

"No more, no more," she gasped into the hotel furniture. I pulled out. Her enormous grunt of relief was cut short, however, when my mouth sucked in her metalized clit, which I'd wanted to taste since discovering it, and my tongue shot bolts of torturous pleasure beyond her limits, forcing screams of emotions beyond pleasure. Her legs and arms quivered uselessly in their bindings until she collapsed. I let her slide/roll off the couch, a pile of used up flesh, onto the expensive carpet, now getting wet with her fluids.

I unbound her. The blindfold had slipped off earlier in the cushions. I sat on the floor next to her. Some time later she put her head in my lap.

"I think I'll hire you."

"Thanks, boss."

"Your job title will be... hmm... let's start you at cocksucker third class."

She looked up at me with a skeptical smile. "Third class?"

"On probation. Your job description is to clean up after a fuck event." I nodded at the mess between my legs.

"Thanks, Boss."

It was serious ego fun to let reality intrude a bit and enjoy watching and feeling this high-powered financial wizard lick her own pussy juice off my cock. A smoking hot high powered financial wizard. A totally naked smoking hot blah blah blah now cleaning my testicles, sopping wet from the quantity of girl juice she'd secreted.

"I hope I have performed my assigned duties with the most exemplary attention, Boss," she said after replacing her juice with her saliva. "Is there any other service I can perform?"

"You've done well, cocksucker third class. You deserve a bonus."

"Boss, you're too good to me."

"Every worker, even the lowest and least important--" I paused and looked down at her so there was no doubt who I meant-- "Should receive a reward for good service." I nodded at my cock, stiff again from her cleaning. "Go ahead, cocksucker third class. All you can eat."

Which she did. I graciously permitted her to suck me off twice. For the first one I stood and let her jack me off on her face. Something told me she would want that. With weakened knees I collapsed back on the couch and let her continue servicing me while I watched my semen drip down her smiling countenance. It took very little effort on my part to stay hard, nor to come again in her kisser. The most difficult part was keeping my eyes open so I could watch her finger-scoop my semen off her cheeks and forehead and theatrically wipe the sticky cream onto her tongue, using my come to lubricate her mouth and make my second orgasm even more satisfying.

The next morning, the last day of the meeting, she was hard as silicon carbide nails, to everyone but especially to me. The TAs gave each other knowing looks. They'd watched us closely yesterday and even a bit last night before we disappeared, and had concluded that Kayla had totally shot me down. Thus, they showed the perils of a long list of cognitive errors known in science, including confirmation bias, overconfidence effect, anchoring bias, and just plain wishful thinking. On my part I could only stand there before her and take it while she berated me. Looking at her this morning, perfectly made up, the memory of her face last night with my come dripping down her cheeks, left me speechless.

We'd overslept and both had to rush to make the first session, with hardly a chance to say two words to each other. Now both of us had planes to catch. "I'll do you at the airport," she texted while making fun of my naive financial strategy in front of the TAs. Which she did.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

I resigned my academic position shortly after returning from the Kayla meeting. My advisor was visibly relieved when I handed him my formal letter. I'd saved him the distasteful and bureaucratically complicated chore of dismissing me. I made up something about going through some personal life changes. He expressed sympathy and promised a good reference, unaware that the biggest change was going from zero poon-tang and moolah to up to my neck in both.

And anyway, I was too busy now managing my assets, orders of magnitude more lucrative than my poverty-level grad stipend. And too busy getting laid.

Another reason for leaving was that my personal research had moved beyond what I could accomplish in the department's labs. I needed some real data about what my brain was actually doing. I needed fMRI.

Don't feel bad if you don't know what that is. The 'MRI' you probably know: "Magnetic Resonance Imaging", that big machine in the hospital basement. The 'f' stands for functional. With the right equipment you can scan a brain in action and watch areas light up on the screen in response to mental activity, which as you might expect has resulted in a number of surprising discoveries about how the brain works. I found a lab, via my special friend Archana, that had one. They welcomed my visit, thinking I still was connected to my former department; were disappointed to learn I was now a private citizen; were thrilled to find out that I represented a start up (Kayla had shown me how simple it is to set up a shell corporation) and could pay for machine time. fMRI machines are not cheap. They are in fact the opposite of cheap. And research labs are the opposite of flush with funds.

It bent their minds a bit to find out that I wanted to do the scans on myself. I also insisted that all the data would leave with me at the end of the tests, and that only one researcher was allowed to be present during the test. I had several reasons for that last requirement, not least being Mingyu.

She was one of the leaders in this department, knew the machine inside out, and in spite of the lab coat, glasses, hair net, and even pocket protector, was undeniably attractive. Asian, Singaporean to be exact. I'd not yet enjoyed that variety of hotness.

The scans began one evening (the machine had a crowded daytime schedule) in the typical and tedious fashion with electrode hookups and calibration and baselines. When all was ready and we were recording, from the control booth she asked me what was next ( of course I had not revealed the nature of my research). I answered nonverbally. The lab was quite cramped, mostly filled with the big magnets and cryogenic equipment the machine required. We were separated by a window but she was quite close. I reached out and stimulated her.

The shock on her face told me I'd hit the bull's eye. She quickly recovered and tended the controls, seeing significant readings on her screen. After she'd unhooked me from the machine we reviewed the scan together in the booth. I'd been pinning her attention to me for a while. In spite of her professional scruples re getting involved with a client, she was letting me get unprofessionally close to her. I put a hand on her shoulder and let it move to caress her neck while we discussed the data.

"What were you doing there?" she asked. "These two areas," she continued, pointing to bright blobs in my left and right hemispheres, "never show activity together. Ah!" I couldn't help myself. I'd sent a tiny tingle right into her cervical vertebrae.

I feigned ignorance and suggested we repeat the scan. After a few more in which I zapped her, each time a bit stronger, she got a clue. We were back at the control board observing how those areas had lit up brighter as I'd stimulated her more. We were also standing together and my arm was around her waist. "You're doing this to me, aren't you?"

In reply I did it to her again, harder. "Oh," was her quiet exclamation. She pressed her embarrassed face into my chest. I held her and kept doing her. Her legs, in her conservative knee-length skirt, tried to wrap themselves around my thigh. She didn't come. She might have but I didn't let her.

When I released her and she could think straight again she went from the screen to me then back to the screen. "How-- you can-- wait, how?" As a former scientist myself, I sympathized with her confusion. Deeply embedded in her mind was a solid certainty based on many years of training, at least two post-graduate degrees, and just a general academic attitude, grown and ossified over generations, that what she'd just seen-- and sensed in the most personal, intimate way-- could not have happened. In stark contrast, I was proving that something clearly impossible, the territory of magicians and con artists, was also a thing I'd clearly just done to her.

I did her again. Just because I could.

"Stop it!" I found that order interesting for two reasons. It was the first time any woman had asked me to stop, at least before I'd made her come more times than she could endure. More important, it meant she knew, deep down, that I really could do what I'd just done to her.

She took off her glasses and wiped her face. She really was quite attractive, with sharp, well-proportioned features outlining a face the color of an exotic tropical wood, framed by midnight black hair. It took all my will power to hold back.

She suggested we take a break. I suspect it was more to get to a public place than because she needed a snack.

"You can just--" she looked down briefly-- "do that?" After just staring at me for a full minute across a small table in the cafeteria.

"And a few other things," I responded.

To illustrate, I sent a tickle up her side. She struggled to hide her body's wriggling reaction. I moved the tickle to her ears, which produced the biggest smile she'd given me so far. Some women's ears seemed as sensitive as their nipples. I moved to her small breasts, hidden under the coat, a thick shirt, and a padded bra. It took a minute to find her nipples. They seemed tiny. Her sudden intake of breath, the way she held onto the edge of the table as if she might fall off the chair, told me I'd found them. And they were very sensitive.

She took me back to the lab, where we made more scans. Under her direction, believe it or not. She was doing the same kind of checks, in her own way, that I'd done that first night in my lab. "Down there," she ordered, shut her eyes for a few seconds, her mouth, which I was finding more and more enticing, in an O, and captured the scan data. Then she had me do her nipples again. And her ears. She really liked the ear thing. Over and over. I didn't need ESP to perceive what she was doing, which was more than extending the dataset or padding the lab time invoice.

"Unhook me," I told her. It was quite late and she would have kept going all night. In the tiny booth I ignored her weak effort to show me yet another scan. Instead, I backed her against a wall and kissed her. That was more than enough.

She'd mentioned in the cafeteria that she had a boyfriend. But he was back home, she hadn't seen him in years, and she hinted that the relationship, really an arranged marriage, was never what you would call hot or romantic. Not a virgin but very inexperienced. No problem. I was the opposite of inexperienced. In a minute she was up on the wall, her lab coat ripped open with her pens falling out, her legs in the air and her underpants on the floor, her skirt bunched up around hips held up by my hands under a very cute ass, and-- most important-- with my cock well up inside her nearly unused honeypot.

She was so horny after a long evening of stimulation and years of celibacy, so astounded by what was happening to her, that I could have made her come without any TK. But as an experimentalist she deserved to discover first-hand what I could do. I gave her the full platinum treatment. My cock was already shooting sparks into her. Clitoris, nipples, and yes those ears also got attention also. She came at once. It took all my strength to keep her up as she shook and bucked but I was determined. Two additional strong orgasms later she went limp and I let her sink to the floor. When she recovered, my stiff and shiny rod was inches from her lips. Did I mention she had very cute lips, sort of violin-shaped?

She stood. She didn't touch my erection and seemed wary of it. She did kiss me and again leaned against me. "I had no idea," she said.

"Was that your first orgasm?"

She nodded into my shirt.

"I'll make sure it's not your last."

We hugged.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The gauntlet of emotions she'd just been through left her a few neurons short of full competence. Shutting down the lab, usually a no-brainer, became complicated. Seeing her diminished state, I suggested she come back to my place for the night. She didn't need much convincing. I'd upgraded my vehicle and bought a large condo in a trendy area. I let her shower alone, seeing her modesty return. She actually tried to get into bed wearing a bathrobe. In minutes she was roasting, the robe slid off and onto the floor, and I got to hold her naked body under the covers.

"Don't do anything," she said. My lips were already on an ear. I kept them there. "Don't." But her body betrayed her. She couldn't stay still. I put my hand on her mound, which I'd been inside but which I hadn't really seen or touched. Or tasted. Her back arched. "Can you just, like, make a woman come whenever you want?"

"Pretty much. Want me to make you come?"

"No. I mean-- I don't know."

I ran my fingers through curls as soft as silk.

"And you can do that... effect... any time?"

The tiniest tingle from a single fingertip sent her writhing into the headboard.

"Oh," again. "It seems a lot stronger."

"I can direct it better when I'm touching." I demonstrated again.

"Vah!" She opened her arms wide and lifted her hips. I did her again, a little stronger. "Ah!" And again.

We both knew she was a goner. "Are you sure you don't want me to do anything?"

"I don't know anymore." She put her hand on mine on her mound.

I knew how to help her decision. I took her hand out of her crotch, which surprised her, and together with her other hand put her wrists against the headboard. "Stay like that." I pulled out some equipment left over from sessions with Samantha. To her worried look I put soft cuffs on her wrists and tied them to an upright. I pulled the covers off, exposing her very cute petite body, and stretched her out with her legs apart. Her little pussy truly was exquisite, a coal black sable triangle between mahogany legs. It might be too much for her-- in fact I was sure it was going to be way, way too much for her-- but I was going to eat that precious little yoni. I got between her legs and glided my fingers delicately along the insides of her thighs.

"What? What?"

I put my head between her legs and searched with my tongue for her inner folds.

"No! Wait! I don't--"

Even without TK she jerked as if electrocuted when the tip of my tongue found her clit. It was very small but very, very sensitive. I held my tongue there while she got used to it. Which took a period of shivering. She told me later I was the first man to eat her. Her slim thighs tried to crush my head. I gradually gave her a bit more. And a bit more.

I didn't let her come. I sat up, lifted her legs, and entered her. Another electrocution. I looked down on her as I slowly fucked her lotus flower. Agony or ecstasy, it was hard to tell.

"Don't, please don't come inside, inside."

"I'm going to come in your mouth."

Shock flashed over her. So no man had ever come between those violin lips. Definitely a turn on to know that I would be the first. I fucked her more in a steady rhythm that took her higher and higher but wouldn't let her achieve the release her straining body clearly craved. I had a plan. You may think it an evil plan. But this smart, attractive, asset to the scientific community had missed out on important life experiences. I was here to help.

When I had her trembling with desire I withdrew. She stuttered something but she was no Samantha and the words stumbled over each other trying to get out. It might have been Chinese and English colliding in her brain. I knew what she wanted, but first I was going to get what I wanted.

I knelt over her pleading face between slim arms tied over her head, my wet cock dripping on her cheek. I lightly put my cockhead to those sweet lips, just enough to give her a taste. I undid the rope tying her wrists to the bed but kept them cuffed together. Then I lay down with my head toward her feet and pulled her hips around and over so she was straddling my head. She didn't resist when I pulled her sex onto my mouth. She lurched and shook when I began eating her in earnest but she held herself on me.

I tortured her. Her back hunched to keep herself on my mouth but she couldn't use her arms and her head sank to my hips. I used one hand to keep her on my tongue and used the other to guide her bound hands around my balls and slide my cock to her lips. I hadn't used any special energy yet-- hadn't needed to-- but now I sent some out of my cock. She jumped. I pressed her pussy back to my tongue and sent some into her that way. Then my cock again, which was now fully between her lips and on her tongue.

Back and forth I went. She shook on my face and squealed on my knob. She was still only taking an inch or so, not even the full glans. I pushed her hips and head down together and gave it to her at both ends, lifting my head to lick harder and my hips to get more of myself into her.

My evil plan was a complete success. She came super hard, again and again, and each time my cock went in and out of her mouth as she bucked while her head swirled around in a delirium.

That did it. I spurted everything I had into her, which caused an uncontrollable surge of energy to shoot into her clit and forced a second series of orgasms, this one even more paralyzing and devastating.

At last, she rolled off me and let my softening cock, still oozing, slip out of her. Her eyes on the ceiling, licking my cream from her lips, she said, "What have you done to me?"

That was a cogent and relevant question. Scientifically I'd proven to her, both with hard data and through, let's call it, field work, that my ability was real and powerful. Personally, I'd shown her the joys and advantages of sexual relations, especially orgasms. But there was a dark side to my pedagogic plan. I'd performed a potent behavioral modification on her: I'd forced her to experience what was perhaps the most intense orgasm of her life while simultaneously experiencing the outpouring of a man's ejaculate into her mouth, onto her taste buds, from an erect, swollen penis that filled her oral cavity and gave her no choice but to swallow that bolus of seminal fluid. The memory of that orgasm was sure to rise out of her subconscious the next time she saw an erect penis, making her willing to put it in her mouth and more receptive to keeping it there. I intended that next time to occur soon, with my own penis. Yes, I was deliberately making this innocent woman cock hungry.