The following story involves a big-dicked woman making a young white guy her bitch, using him as a sexual plaything. It also flirts with the idea of consent or non-consent; the story is ambiguous on this point, but non-consent is certainly an implication one may draw, if one chooses. If that’s not your thing then this isn’t the story for you.
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Hope you enjoy the story!
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Brad glanced at the clock for the twentieth time and wished the fingers would move a little faster. Just a little, that was all he needed. Unfortunately, the last five minutes of the lecture were as uncooperative as usual, insisting on taking the full sixty seconds each. Einstein had once claimed that if one sat with a pretty girl for an hour, it would seem like a minute. Brad wasn’t sitting with a pretty girl as such, but he was certainly sat next to one. Surely that should buy him a little bit of time dilation?
Finally, the bell rang. Students began closing their laptops, slipping them into their backpacks. It was still early in the first semester, and Brad smiled as he observed the first-year students mixed in with the class. Most of them wearing obviously new clothes and expressions of unjaded enthusiasm. He’d looked like that, this time last year.
Janet still did, even though she was a year ahead of him. Brad shot covert looks at her as she packed up. She was perhaps not the prettiest girl in the university, but she was certainly in the running. Brad had been infatuated from the minute he saw her. To his chagrin, she failed to return the feeling. He had spent a year pining for her, regardless of the fact that she had never shown the slightest romantic interest in him. Brad had been firmly friend-zoned.
But hope springs eternal. “Uh, Janet?” He asked nervously.
She turned a sunny smile on him. “Oh, hi Brad,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to do some study at the library later?”
“Uh, I suppose so,” she replied. “Halliday is a good teacher, but this stuff is so dense… I could do with going over it.”
“Maybe we could get something to eat afterwards, go to the cinema or something?” He asked hopefully.
She frowned a little. “Uh, you mean like a date?”
“Um, well…”
“Brad, how many times do I have to go through this? You’re a really great guy, honestly you are, but I don’t think of you that way. We’re friends, I’m happy to hang out with you as a friend, and it’s great to have a study partner who is as smart as you are. But you’d be better off looking for some other girl to date. Any girl would be lucky to have you, honestly.”
“But not you,” he said glumly.
“No, not me,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Are you still up for studying, at least?”
She seemed to consider it, though Brad had the sinking feeling that she was actually considering how best to let him down gently. “I think maybe you should do that with somebody else too, Brad, I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea. Ask me again when you’re ready to do it just as friends.”
He took it like a man, which is to say that he put on an unconvincing brave face as he died inside, then went off to find a quiet place to cry.
Later he walked to the car park, still rolling what had happened around in his head. That was absolutely it; his life was over. Nothing remained that was worth living for. He sighed theatrically, causing a passing pedestrian to give him a funny look.
Once in his little BMW he headed home. Brad’s parents were pretty wealthy, something that had attracted the attention of a few girls. Whilst Brad was smart enough to see that for what it was, he was also young and horny enough to have used it from time to time. If he was honest, he’d hoped that it might sway Janet, at least a little. Alas, she was too principled and perfect a woman for that.
He stopped at a red light and looked around, bored. His eye landed on one of the shops in the high street. He stared thoughtfully.
“Magic Shop”, the sign above the door read. Brad had driven past it a hundred times or more, and always pretty much ignored it. He didn’t buy into superstition, he was much too rational for that kind of thing. Only, he’d never really noticed the print under the sign. “Spells, Charms, Wards, Curse Protection, Love Potions.”
Love Potions…
It had to be nonsense, of course. Love potions couldn’t be real, right? But… well, what harm would there be in going inside and having a look? He pulled into a side street and parked up.
The interior of the shop was nothing like he expected. Bright, modern, clean, obviously upscale. An older woman sat behind the nearby counter whilst a youngish man was restocking a shelf.
Brad browsed around for a few minutes, examining various trinkets. None of them was labelled, and he wondered how a customer was supposed to even know what to look for.
“I’m Karen,” a voice said over his shoulder, “the owner. Can I help you with something?”
Brad spun and blushed. She was in her fifties but wore 1080 porno it better than most. She was rather attractive, actually. Thoughts of MILF porn rolled through Brad’s head and his blush deepened.
“Um, well, your sign says you have, um…”
“Love potions,” she finished for him with a knowing smile. “But of course.”
“How did you know that?” Brad asked, stricken.
“Magic,” she said solemnly. Then smiled returned and added “and of course, at least three quarters of the young men who come in here are looking for love potions. It’s a safe bet.”
“Oh…” Brad felt stupid. “Well, do they work?”
“That depends,” she said.
“On what?”
“On how much you’re prepared to spend, of course,” she led him over to a large display case cluttered with boxes and bottles. “One cannot force a person to fall in love with one, but one can certainly encourage it. Our cheapest love potion is in the low two figure range. Our most expensive… and effective… is in the low three figure range.”
She lifted a pair of small bottles. Brad couldn’t see any noticeable difference between them. “That much?” He said incredulously.
“Quality costs,” she said simply. Brad wavered, but… well a couple of hundred wasn’t all that much, really. He took his credit card out. The transaction was quickly made, and he walked outside clutching a little paper bag. He stopped in the doorway of a closed down shop and pulled the little instruction card out. It said he had to take half of it himself and get Janet to drink the other half somehow. On the day of a full moon, after sunset. Hmm, how to accomplish that…
“Hey man,” a voice said. Brad turned to find himself facing the guy from the shop.
“Oh… hi. Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Look… don’t say anything, but that…” he gestured towards the little package Brad carried, “it’s not going to help you.”
“Why not?” Brad asked.
“Dude, it’s water with some food dye in it. I watch her make up thirty bottles of the stuff every Monday morning.”
“Oh…” Brad felt suddenly foolish. “Well, I should get my money back.”
“You can’t!” The guy suddenly looked scared. “If you do she’ll know I said something, and I’ll get fired!”
“Not so much my problem,” Brad muttered. He hesitated. The guy had warned him, after all, so he didn’t really want to turn around and get him fired for his good deed. Still, he chose to work in the shop in the first place, ripping off customers with fake ‘magic’, so Brad’s sympathy only extended so far. “why even tell me this if you don’t want me to do anything about it?”
” You have a girl you want, and she’s not interested. I’ve been there, man. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. You need to know that this,” he gestured to the bag, “won’t work. But there’s somebody who can help.”
That caught Brad’s attention. “What?”
“I can give you an address. Somebody… well, real.”
“Real…?”
The guy nodded. “I’ll tell you where to call, but only if you promise not to return the bottle. You get what you want, I get to keep my job. Deal?”
Brad hesitated. He had the feeling that he was getting mired deeper into a world that he didn’t even believe was real. But again, that voice inside whispered that if there was even the slightest chance… and making a call wouldn’t cost anything, right? “Okay, deal,” he said.
The guy fished a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled on it briefly. “Call here. Tell her your problem, and she’ll be able to deal with it. There’ll be a price to pay,” he added, suddenly blushing. “And not just money. But if you’re willing to pay it…”
“What kind of price?” Brad asked.
“I’m not saying. That’s all I can do for you man, I have to get back before my break ends.” And with that, he hurried back into the shop.
Brett stood there for a couple of minutes, mulling over what to do. A phone number was scrawled on the paper, a local one to judge by the area code. Well, he thought to himself, no harm in making a phone call…
Back in the car he fished his mobile phone out and called. It rang for a long time before finally being picked up. Silence on the other end.
“Hi, you don’t know me but my name’s Brett,” he began in his best telephone manner. “I was given this number by a… friend. He said you might be able to help me with a problem?” Still silence. “Hello? Is anybody there?” Brett asked.
“What problem?” Came a voice finally. It was a woman’s voice, hard to tell the age but he’d have guessed young.
“Um, well I, that is to say, erm…” Brett blushed, flustered at suddenly having to explain. “Well there’s a girl that I like,” he said finally, “and she’s not really into me, and this guy said you could help with that sort of thing.”
“Come to me tomorrow,” the voice said, “at midnight.” She added an address on the other side of town and hung up.
Brett looked up the address on Google maps when he got back home. There was no street view of that particular street, or the streets immediately around it, but it was right in the centre of what was easily the worst part of 2 k porno town; cheap housing and rampant crime. He didn’t trust his BMW there even for a minute, so he booked an uber for the trip. The car could only get him to within a few hundred yards; the last couple of roads were ancient streets, narrow pedestrian-only zones. There were street lights but almost every one of them seemed to be smashed or faulty, leaving the area in a shadowy darkness.
He made his way through the chill evening, warily eyeing the one or two people he passed. The address was 4B in this road. He found number 4 easily enough, but at first couldn’t see any sign of a 4A or 4B. Finally, he noticed a faded sign on a wall next to a narrow covered alleyway indicating that they were down there. He walked down the alley in pitch darkness, stumbling over occasional somethings on the floor. About twenty yards down he found two rickety old doors facing one another. No sign of a doorbell, so he knocked.
After a pause long enough that he was thinking of leaving, the door opened. A black hooded figure was revealed in the gloomy light inside. The face seemed female, though most of it was lost in shadow.
“Hi, I’m Brett… I think we spoke on the phone earlier.”
“I am Mistress Tanice,” she said. Her voice was soft and beautiful, with a vaguely Caribbean accent. “Come inside.”
She led him into a small room. One wall was lined completely in shelves loaded with bottles and small boxes of all shapes and sizes. Another wall was loaded with books. A small table was set to one side, with an honest-to-god crystal ball sitting in the centre and chairs on either side. Heavy curtains covered the windows, and the room was lit with dim red lighting. A large coal fire burned in a hearth, with a black pot hanging over it. It was almost unbearably hot in the room, a stark change from the cold damp outside.
“Take your coat off,” she said, “sit here.”
She sat him on a big worn leather couch, taking a seat on the opposite end. The black cloak she wore still hid all but a hint of her face.
“Tell me your problem,” she said.
“Well like I said on the phone, there’s a girl I know, Janet. I really like her a lot, but she doesn’t like me back so… well I bought a love potion at the magic shop in town.”
She laughed. “Ah, Karen’s magic combination tap water and food dye,” she said mockingly. “There’s a powerful bit of magic, to be sure. Did you buy the cheap one or the expensive one?”
Brett blushed, consoling himself that in this dim red light, it would be invisible. “Um the expensive one. I don’t even know why I went there. I don’t believe in magic, not really. It just seemed like… like it was something to try. I guess I’ll try anything,” he said glumly.
“Of course you will,” she said. She really did have a sexy voice, he thought.
“Well I met a guy in the shop, her assistant or something. He said you could help.”
“Billy,” she said. “A good boy, little Billy. Nice and docile and obedient. Enjoy him a great deal.” Before Brett could wonder what she meant by that she went on. “Maybe can help, maybe not. Will cost you to try.”
“How much?”
She laughed. “Two prices, boy. First is money, you choose how much.”
“Um, I choose?”
The hood nodded fractionally. “Choose well, boy, you be leaving unhappy if you go too low.”
He hesitated. This could well be a case of good money after bad. Probably was, in fact. He was buying magic, and magic wasn’t real. But… he was desperate, and desperation didn’t make for good judgment. And knowing that didn’t change it.
He had no idea how much money she would expect. A fake potion had cost two hundred… surely the ‘real thing’ would be more. And he’d be crushed if he missed out on being with Janet just because he’d been too cheap here. He pulled his wallet out and hesitated a moment before taking all the money out. “That’s five hundred,” he said. “It’s all I have with me.”
A dark-skinned hand with long, long fingernails reached out. She took the wad of notes and it vanished into her robe.
“What’s the other price?” Brett asked. It occurred to him that he should have asked the question before handing the cash over.
“You have to be willing to do whatever is required from you,” she said mysteriously. “Just that. But that isn’t always easy, boy.”
Brett nodded nervously. His mouth was suddenly dry. “I’ll do anything,” he said.
“Hmm, another good boy,” she said, obviously amused. “Let’s find out if that’s really true.”
She pulled a small table over in front of her. It was covered by a large white tablecloth with symbols painted over it. A leather cup sat in the centre. She produced a small but sharp-looking knife and looked at Brett. “Give me your thumb,” she said. “I need some blood.”
Brett, who was an avid reader of the Harry Dresden books, hesitated. “Um, doesn’t giving a magic person my blood give them all sorts of control over me?” He asked.
She chuckled. “Some say that,” she agreed. “But you don’t believe in magic, now do you Brett?”
“No…” he said, and 3 k porno it didn’t sound nearly as convincing as he’d intended.
“Ask yourself whether you meant it when you said you’d do anything. Because more than this will be required of you, boy.”
Brett offered his thumb up. He winced as she drew the blade across it and then held it over the leather cup so that a small dribble of blood fell into it. She stirred the contents with the tip of the knife then upended the cup. A half a dozen small grey objects fell out.
“What are those?” Brett asked.
“Finger bones,” she said. “Now be quiet.” She studied the table top intently for several minutes. Each of the blood-stained bones had fallen on a symbol, and the woman touched each symbol with the knife several times. She began to whisper to herself, swaying slightly. Whatever she was saying, it wasn’t in English or any language Brett knew of. It sounded oddly sibilant.
After a few minutes she gathered up the bones and returned them to the cup. She turned to the fireplace and took a ladle from the big pot hanging there. She used it to fill the cup to the brim, then reached out and took a small glass bottle from the mantlepiece. She poured a white powder from it into the cup, then stirred it with the knife, whispering over it as she did. After a few minutes she set the knife aside.
“Drink this,” she said, offering the cup to him. “All of it, quickly. Before it cools.”
Brett looked at it dubiously. But… well, time to make the penny into the pound. He took a gulp. It tasted foul, but he forced himself to down it. He emptied the cup, grimacing at the sight of the bones in the bottom.
He began to feel dizzy. Maybe the heat was getting to him, he thought. It must have been over forty degrees in here. Well over.
The woman began to whisper again, a rhythmic chanting. Brett blinked, trying to clear his head. He began to feel relaxed, so relaxed, it was like his body was made of lead. He slumped in the couch, feeling the soft cracked leather against his back. What was happening to him?
“You must take off your clothes,” she said abruptly.
She reached up and tossed the hood back. Brett gawked, his breath catching in his throat. She was astonishingly beautiful, easily one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. High angular cheekbones, wide sensual lips, and eyes whose colour was deepest black. Those eyes seemed to stare into his soul, transfixing him. She was absolutely gorgeous, Brett thought. But at the same time, it was not a soft, warm kind of beauty. Her beauty was harsh and unforgiving, the way a craggy mountainous landscape is beautiful.
“What?” He found himself muttering, completely distracted by the exquisite dark-skinned siren before him.
“I need to touch your body at certain pressure points,” she explained. “Obedience, Brett, remember? Remove your clothing, now.”
The last was snapped with the voice of authority. Brett tried to make sense of what was going on and couldn’t. It was hard to focus, difficult to grasp what was going on. He was… not dizzy, exactly. He felt disorientated, but very calm and relaxed. It was a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one. “Obey, Brett. It’s very important to me that you obey any order I give you. I promise you that you won’t regret it,” she said.
He found himself undressing without really knowing why. The room was so hot, it was nice to be able to take his clothes off anyway. As he discarded the garments her hands moved over his body, stroking, caressing. He realised that his cock was hard as hell and somehow, he didn’t mind at all.
She pulled him back into the couch, turning him away from her. Her hands were surprisingly strong. He could feel her close behind him, her body pressed against his. He could feel the curves of her through the thin cloak she wore, the generous swell of her breasts and the lithe body pressed against his back. Her hands encircled him and caressed his chest, making slow, gentle circles.
“That’s it, Brett, relax, just relax,” she murmured as her hands slipped lower… lower… and suddenly she was stroking his cock. Brett moaned as she worked him with expert fingers. He leaned back against her, shuddering with lust. He wasn’t a very big boy down there, he knew. Three inches, maybe three and a quarter when he was at his absolute hardest, his most turned on… which he was right now. Slim with it, less than an inch thick even now. He told himself that he didn’t mind. Size didn’t matter, right? Girls always said so.
“Close your eyes, Brett,” she whispered, and he obeyed without thought. She nuzzled his neck, her lips touching his skin with a soft gentle caress. They parted, and the tip of her tongue tasted him. Brett moaned as she gripped him a little tighter, stroking slightly faster. Jesus, he felt good, so good. He felt himself going to the edge, ready to explode in her hand. As if reading his mind, she slackened her grip and slowed the strokes, keeping him just on edge. He mewled needily, his hips thrusting, desperately trying to fuck her hand, trying to push himself over the edge. But she laughed softly and moved with him, perfectly judging his reactions to keep him balanced right on the precipice. It was an act of supreme control and the most delicious torture. He’d have done anything to come in that moment, anything at all… but she wouldn’t allow it.