Telekinesis Ch. 03

Chapter 3

With more experimentation I learned the full range of attention I could control, from rapt, unwavering fascination to total unawareness. I used the latter effect on guards, ticket takers, and bouncers. I could have become a successful shoplifter. I could have got a position with the CIA. Instead I went to a fashion show.

The only sport jacket I owned was my one concession to disguise. I walked right in like a VIP. The security, and the very nicely dressed and made up young gatekeeper that under other circumstances I would have been tempted to seduce, all suddenly found the most captivating things on their phones.

I thought I'd try a model. I'd read about famous men who were modelizers. Why not a young, talented scientist working on a world-changing breakthrough? Hey, I was changing my world.

I grabbed some free wine, ate hors d'oeuvres while resisting the temptation to play with the servers, and waited for the models.

Who eventually walked out after way too much fanfare, speeches, and general overproduction. I was unimpressed. The clothing line was not exceptional. The garments hung well on the women, who were chosen for that single purpose, after all. But they were even skinnier in person than models look in videos and magazine ads. I don't find anorexia sexy.

I was sharing a stand up drink table with some exec-type guy. "Upmarket," he said as he ogled the models. I had a hunch he didn't mean the clothes. I was about to shoo him away with the eye trick when his phone played the first bars of some out-of-date pop song and I heard one side of a very interesting conversation. About stocks.

So after the call I did the eye trick the other way and got him bragging. A company I'd never heard of was ready to take off and he was part of a group about to take advantage.

I reversed the eye trick so he'd forget me and I left. The next day I did some due diligence re the company then drove across town and sold my car, a bit old but not a junker. Then I put it all on a margin buy of the stock's option.

A week later I sold the option for a 12x profit, bought myself a better set of wheels, and started looking around for ways to do it again with the ample leftover funds. I started attending financial conferences instead of the science ones I should have been going to. After some trial and error I was able to identify likely information sources, men with big egos who liked to tell everyone (and especially a "private investor" that was obviously a VIP keeping a low profile— the eye trick again) about the great things they had cooking. That is, talkative assholes. I called them TAs, a small private joke from academia. My portfolio grew rapidly.

As did my list of sexual conquests. Guys, re getting laid by female colleagues: don't judge a book by its conventional cover. Because there were also women at these financial events. Some of the most professionally sober and conservatively dressed women there redirected their considerable ambition and interpersonal skills towards more intimate goals as their cellphones got lost under a pile of business-appropriate apparel.

I hardly had to use my TK. For one thing, I'd upgraded my wardrobe. I could manage the unawareness eye trick for one or maybe a few subjects. (Yes, I called them subjects. Of my experiments.) But for mingling anonymously in a crowd it was easier to just blend in. For another thing, the now significantly long list and variety of women who had willingly and eagerly taken my semen into their orifices had established in me a masculine self-confidence that in itself many women found intoxicating. Seriously, I was getting as much nookie as any rock star, without the risk of going deaf during a drug-soaked year of touring. Or the effort of learning to play an instrument.

Then Kayla appeared. She was a top rainmaker in M&A, out-alpha-ing the male alphas. We met at a high end tech business thing and hit it off at once. I mean really. She wore her butterscotch blonde hair short in a severe cut that fit her severe business suit and her severe manner with most people. A manner she extended to me, on the surface, but which she leavened with body language that communicated the opposite. She touched me as she criticized my financial skills, the okay places of course, shoulder, arm; her non-TKed eye contact was exhilarating. I didn't need to dilate her or stimulate her at all. She just wanted me. I didn't try anything until we were out on a convention center balcony during a break, away from everyone, and I slipped a hand over her most precious pearl and did my thing a tiny bit.

I'd learned the hard way to start small. I'd gone through a disco period. It was easy as pie to get in them and nearly as easy to attract the tasty girl-women there, who were already looking for something special. I found a slim Black woman with natural short hair and even shorter skirt. We were necking and more in a back corner beyond the bar when I reached up into her skirt and touched her. I was right on target but, I have to admit, too turned on. With Hannah previously I'd been forced to start at a distance. This was the first time I was able to just start at max power. And my power was growing. I zapped her, but too hard, and she immediately, I mean instantly, came in an orgasmic spike as strong as anything I've ever witnessed up to that point. She cried out so loud I looked around to check if anyone had noticed, but the electronica was loud enough to cover our lewd actions. Luckily also she had her arms around my neck and was able to hang on while her legs recovered some fraction of their strength.

She stared at me for a moment. She knew something strange had happened. With an excuse I couldn't hear over the beat she turned and walked away and I never saw her again.

So I took it easy with Kayla, just a little to dip my toe, so to speak, in the water. She loved it, and presented me with a smile, with her mouth and eyes, but also her whole face, lifting up her chin to expose her very delectable neck. I'd seen such a smile before and called it the total smile, given only at special moments such as when a woman begins to undress before me, or kneels and looks up. It took all my will power not to drag her somewhere less public and aim the full battery of my charms at her.

But business first. Over dinner we traded tips. Kayla had her own methods, non-ESP, to get TAs to spill their guts. We spent most of our time at the hotel restaurant table on our phones, setting up trades for the next morning's market. I gave a scathing review at one point of an incompetent buffoon of a CTO who didn't understand his tech. I don't remember him or his company or what I said, but I do remember her comment:

"You have a cruel streak in you, don't you?" Somehow that remark came across as a compliment, not an insult.

Then she held up her phone for me to watch as she turned it off. "Now I'm all yours," she said. That total smile again. "There's something you might want to know about me." She waited for me to respond, but I'd been learning how to outwait. "I'm a sub."

"You look way more delicious than a sandwich." I wasn't totally shocked by her admission. My time with Samantha had given me some experience, of course, and I'd been reading up on kinks, but it was fun to play dumb for a little while.

"I'll do anything you want. Anything." She did a simple thing then, but one which contained worlds of erotic meaning. She undid the top button of her blouse.

She might as well have done a bump and grind strip tease right there in the middle of the dining room. My reluctance use my special skill on her dissolved in a flash of desire. I reached out with my TK to touch the nipples under her bra.

And to my surprise found metal there. I could tell from the lab work I'd done, the slippery way metal test objects squirmed under the TK field. "I want to see your breasts."

We went up to her room, where as soon as she'd locked and bolted the door behind us she knelt with her hands behind her head. "I await your command." She didn't have to wait long. I'd enjoyed a few more sessions with Samantha. This, I could tell, would be different. And maybe even more interesting.

Unlike Kayla, Sam didn't want to submit. Or obey. Sam wanted to be forced. After our first kinky scene she willingly let me tie her up, blindfold or hood her, incapacitate her in whatever way I wanted, but then she would resist. She'd try her best to get out of the bindings, so that I had to quickly get good at knots and cuffs. And of course there were the curses.

"Fucking asshole," was a common epithet. She might insult me calmly at first as she let me cuff and hood her. I had to use the hood. She'd rub off any blindfold during the scene even if I made her promise beforehand not to do that. So no mercy. I also got her a collar, a wide one because she would fight it when I used it to hold her down, which was necessary.

She was docile as I led her by a leash to the end of her couch, a convenient piece of furniture. "You're going to rape me again, aren't you?" she might say. That had been my intention the first time, pretending to be a stranger who'd broken into her place, but I'd chickened out. And anyway there was no way I could have disguised my voice. Or my cock. "Are you going to fuck me in all three holes? You're going to kill me when you're done with me, aren't you?"

"Worse. I'm going to kill the good girl in you and turn you into a nympho slut."

"Never! I'd rather die! No matter what you do you can't make me!" She got into her character. Also the plot, whose ending we both knew.

She let me bend her over the padded arm and tie her legs down, then fix her head by tying down the collar with her arms cuffed behind her. I made her totally helpless. But never silent. I never gagged her, in spite of the risk of the neighbors hearing. She needed the curses.

Then came the torture. I used both pain and pleasure. A bit of research revealed a long list of places on her that I could attack: inner thighs, breasts, sides, back, and so on. And I bought a charming device called a flogger, with which I made all those areas bright pink and made her yell out her denials that she was what we both knew she was. She got better and better at resisting my threats and torment:

"You're a slut, aren't you? Admit it." After a round of flogging had her begging for mercy. And me rock hard.

"No, no!"

"I know you want my cock."

"Penises are disgusting!"

"Penis or paddle, what's your choice?" She couldn't answer. "Want a sample?" And I put my cock into her pussy, sopping wet of course, just the tip. She bawled again, this time in pleasure. "Oh, you like my disgusting penis, don't you?" Then another scream as I pulled out and whacked her ass. I stood back a second to watch her struggle. She didn't hold back. I'd had to upgrade the padded cuffs. "Cock or paddle?"

"Fuck you, terrorist! Aggh!" A hard smack on the other cheek. Then, "Ohhhh!" as I pushed my cock back into her. Rinse, repeat. The combination, even without TK, launched her into orbit.

I withdrew. "I need my cock sucked. Any volunteers?" Her struggles had subsided to full body shivering. I rubbed the paddle over the pink areas as a hint of what the answer should be. She mumbled something. "Speak up. What do you want?" I re-entered her and pumped deeper.

"Please, please, no more. Stop! I'm begging you!" Following guidelines, I'd given her a safeword. Which she never once used.

"Just admit you're a slut. That's all you have to do." I gently stroked her sides. She shook her head. Time for a little bit of TK. I'd learned a new trick. Stimulation sensitized where I touched, which was normally pleasurable. Now I ran my hand over her ass, tingling it. She struggled again, in spite of the small pleasure it gave her, knowing what was about to happen. I pulled my fingers out of harm's way and immediately spanked her, extra hard.

The enhanced sensitivity to already overworked nerve endings sent a lightning bolt of agony through her. She screamed her lungs out.

"Want another? I can do this all night."

She knew I meant it. It was scary how much I was enjoying doing this to her. We both knew she would give in. It was just a question of when. She shook her head for dear life, as much as she could in the tied down collar.

"What are you?" I put my fingers on her ass again, preparing another whack. She tried to speak, couldn't get the words out. "Speak up. I'm listening."

"I— I— yes."

"Yes what?"

"S-slut."

"What's that? Louder." I stimmed her ass again for encouragement.

"Slut!"

We were almost there. "What about sluts? Do you know one? I need one to eat my dick." I lightly tapped her sensitized cheek with the paddle.

"I'm a slut!"

"Do you eat dick?"

"Yes, I love dick, yes!"

At last. I moved around to her head and released the collar. Lifting up her hooded head I put my cock to the hole, feeling her breath as she panted. She took me in eagerly. I let her suck. Really, after the initial carnal thrill of a hooded suck I found I preferred to be able to watch her gobble me and look in her eyes, but I kept the hood on. This was for her. I withdrew. "What kind of slut are you?"

"Cocksu—"

I pushed back into her before she could finish her answer. "What kind?"

"Coghfmkskkrr!" A valiant try. I pulled out. "Cock—" She cleared her throat— "Sucker. I'm a cocksucker."

"And a slut?"

"Yes, yes, more, more!"

"More what? More spanking?"

"More cock, more cock!" She struggled again, this time trying to find my cock. I let her succeed and enjoy it for a while, maybe hope the agony was over and now it was time for ecstasy. But I knew what I really needed to do to satisfy her. Each of these sessions was getting more extreme than the last.

I pulled out again. "Your ass looks really tempting."

"Not my ass, please! Let me suck! I love to suck! I'm a cocksucking slut!"

"I can't decide," I pretended to wonder as held my cock so that with max straining she could just barely lick it with her tongue. "Does your ass need to be spanked or fucked?" My cock was stiff to nearly bursting. Torturing her had become a guilty pleasure, I have to admit.

"No, I want to suck!"

I moved back behind her and petted her ass while she continued to beg for more fellatio. She really did have a nice ass, petite and firm. It was such a delicious moment. I slid a finger down her crack and felt her tiny asshole. "Let's do both."

She bucked up and almost got her feet on the floor. I'd let her keep her head free for the finale. But I pulled her bound arms up, knowing it would be stressful, forced her back down with one hand, and slapped her ass hard. Then I shoved my well-sucked cock up into her pussy all the way. She cried out but I didn't let her come, not yet, just held my cock inside her.

I put my finger on her anus, then in a bit, and stimmed her, just a little. "Ass fucking or ass spanking?"

"Mmhhh!" She was whimpering, no longer able to put words together.

I pulled out and stood back. No more touching, silent.

She regained her composure after a minute, lifted herself up a little, looked around even though she couldn't see anything. "What?" she said, "Come on." I didn't answer. "Come on, you fucker!" She strained the bonds. I waited. "You fucker! Fuck me! Do it! I'm a slut! I said so! I'm a slut! Fuck me!" I still waited. I silently reached for a bottle of lube. I'd learned to prepare the scene. "Okay, okay, you want my ass? Take it, take it, I'm a slut! Fuck my ass! I'm an assfucking slut! Satisfied? I'm an assfucking slut and I want you to fuck my shithole!" She shook her whole body in her bonds, violently. "Do it! I'm begging you, okay? Is that what you want? I'm begging you, just fuck my ass! Fuck my ass! Fu— agghh! Agghh!"

I spanked her hard while I held her down, all over her ass, smacking the paddle on her in several quick but hellish strokes that felt so good to me and made her scream so loud. And mid-scream drove my cock into and through her asshole to the hilt. At the same time I zapped her everywhere down there, anus, pussy, taint, cheeks, rectum, while I pounded in and out, in and out.

She squealed like an electrocuted pig, gasped, and made the keening sound that told me she was coming super hard. She spasmed from hooded head to bound foot and everywhere in between. I kept fucking her butthole. These orgasms took a while.

One final gasp and shudder told me she was coming back down to Earth. Still sliding in and out of her rectum, I said, "Is there something the slut I'm buttfucking would like to say to me?"

She pushed her ass back toward me, only able to move herself a little, but I appreciated the effort. "Come." Spoken calmly.

I slowed the tempo but kept the depth. "Come where?"

"In my ass."

"Where? Your asshole feels so good around my cock I got distracted. Really tight even though a skank like you must have taken a hundred big cocks up it. Where do you want me to come?

"Right where your fucking cock is right now, you fucking bastard!" She was getting impatient. "Ah, that fucking hurts like hell."

I pumped faster and worked my hips left-right, up-down, to rub harder on her sphincter. "What are you? What kind of girl am I cornholing?"

"Just fucking pump your jizz into me. Jesus fucking Christ, give it to me! You're ruining my asshole! Give me your come!"

I could feel how much my fucking was burning her sphincter. My cock felt hot and ready to burst. But I managed to fake a calmness. "Tell me."

"I'm your fucking asshole pussy slutty fucking slut! Now come in my fucking slut hole! Do it! Do it!"

That did it. I grabbed her tits and pulled myself into her as far as I could penetrate and let my come shoot into her, groaning and straining theatrically, pumping and pumping even after I'd emptied myself, then slowly pulled out.

I walked around Kayla, pretending to appraise her. I stood in front of her, close enough that she could see I was getting hard and she could have kissed my zipper. "Remove your blouse and bra. Stand up."

Her breasts were quite beautiful, perfect small melons, but what I most appreciated as I felt their undersides were the tiny gold barbells that pieced each nip. "Close your eyes. Hands behind back." With the slightest touch I put fingers to the tip of each nip and put a bit of energy into them. She staggered back. "Don't move!" I continued. She struggled to stay in place, still in her heels and pencil skirt, still keeping her eyes closed. I let her get used to the stimulation, at least enough that she didn't keel over, then I stepped up the stim another notch. Her eyes sprang open in astonishment.

"Eyes closed!"

"Yes, Master."

"Shut up!" I was experimenting, not touching the piercings but observing how they changed her flesh's reaction to my energy input. The metal was a sort of TK lens or amplifier, not vibrating itself but spreading and redirecting the flux. Interesting. And very potent.

She staggered again. I'd lost myself in her nipples. My bad, but I knew enough not to apologize. Just the opposite, in fact.

"Disobeying me again? You need to be punished."

"Yes, Master." Eagerly spoken, with a look of satisfaction.

"Don't call me that. Disobeying me again. I'm not your master."

Her eyes flicked open, then as quickly shut.

"I am your owner."

"Yes . . . owner."

"Boss." I liked that better.

"Yes, Boss. Thank you, Boss."

"But you still need to be punished."

She remained silent, but that satisfaction reappeared.

"Naked."

Off came the skirt.

"Stop. My, your panties are soaked. Better keep them on for now. Also the stockings and heels. Nice legs. Why are your eyes open? You are the most miserable excuse for an employee."

I felt all over her now fully exposed body. I allowed a little tingle to trickle out of my fingertips as they explored, which generated goosebumps along her sides. I liked her ass a lot and gave her a bit extra when I slipped a finger into her panties and down her crack. Judging from her shivering reaction, Kayla liked anal as much as Samantha. "Some day," pronounced in as official tone as I could muster— my cock was already straining in my pants— "I will take your asshole."