Xia - Tuesday

Overnight his phone had run out of battery looping Xinyi's mantra and shut down. So he was awoken Tuesday morning not by his alarm, but by the overwhelming hardness of his cock. He whimpered a little. His complete acceptance of his denial from the night before had weakened somewhat and now he was fucking horny and wanted to touch so bad. He lay still for a while, fantasizing about how amazing it would feel to grab himself and make himself cum. How he was a grown adult, damnit, and he could jerk his own cock in the privacy of his home if he wanted to. His hands quivered with anticipation at the order from his brain. But they did not move from his side. What would it hurt, he thought to himself, to text Xinyi first and tell her he'd changed his mind about waiting another day. She'd obviously put a lot of thought into selecting his viewing material for the last few days, she deserved to know that the deal was off.

He picked up his phone, saw it was dead, and rolled over to plug it in to charge. That brought his gaze to his laptop and there was a sudden rush of shame. What on earth had he watched the night before??? The first three videos were innocuous enough, one of them even educational. There was nothing wrong with a virgin knowing how to pleasure a woman when the time came, he reckoned.

He did feel a little anger at Xinyi for making him watch porn despite him having told her he intended to remain pure. But the anger was tempered by the knowledge that she hadn't 'made' him do anything, not really. More 'invited.' Still, she was a bad influence and he resolved to put some healthy distance between them. He'd make that clear in his text. But mortification rose as he thought about that last video. According to Webster's Dictionary, Mortification has two meanings. A 'sense of humiliation and shame' and 'the subjection and denial of bodily passions and appetites.' The feeling rushing in was entirely the first meaning and a complete failure of the second. He smiled to himself at the nerdiness of his inner monologue.

The distraction didn't last long, leaving only humiliation. Humiliation at being turned on by such perversions. Humiliation at considering all those impure thoughts and especially humiliation at his arousal when considering a naked man, at imagining sucking cock. He started to panic. And then even worse, humiliation at having told all of that to a woman he'd met on Saturday. At having put a number on each depravity. He did not doubt that she'd recorded every single number. That she knew that the idea of a woman peeing her pants triggered him 8 out of 10.

His phone having charged enough to restart, he was brought from the depths of his growing despair and disgust by the sound of a waiting message. He did not have to look to see who it was from, and he opened it, starting to compose his indignant demand that she forget everything when his mind went blank.

He was staring at a picture taken by Ana. It was Xinyi. She was completely naked. She was laying face down on her bed, her back arched and one arm locked holding her up. Her knees were bent, her naked soles and toes visible at the top of the picture. Her thick naked thighs, pushed together, her stretch marks, and a partial view of her soft naked ass, although her torso covered most of it. He stared, taking in every inch, every curve and fold. Her other arm held both her breasts, just barely hiding the nipples, her breasts bulging over her hand, rolling warm hills the color of sand lit by sunrise covering most of the image. And then her face. Her deep umber eyes, her silky jet black hair broken by the fierce red steak. And her mouth, slightly open, slightly smiling, slightly mischievous. He stared, barely breathing. The expression on her face was so rich, so precise, he knew exactly what it meant.

She was telling him she knew. She knew he was having second thoughts, knew she'd pushed him far past his comfort zone, knew he was pushing back, resisting her control. She was telling him that was alright, she wasn't angry, it was his right to say 'no more.' And she was telling him that up against all that anger, humiliation, doubt, resolve, all the moralizing lessons of his church, and his years of conviction that purity was the only choice for him, she presented only this one definitive argument.

"Fucking look at me."

He looked. Slowly his mind came back. He thought long and hard, replaying all his reasons, the clear boundary-setting text he had composed in his head. He kept looking, sometimes transfixed on one beautiful spot, sometimes his eyes flying over the image trying to take in every tiny detail simultaneously. But most often just meeting her eye contact and playing the unspoken conversation between them over and over.

His phone had fully charged when he sent his reply, which he didn't start typing until he was absolutely confident it contained every word he wanted and needed to say to her.

"Thank you mommy"

It was not long until he received his reward, a simple "good boy."

Iniko went about his day, catching up on some work, cooking lunch. Jollof rice, with roast pumpkin. A recipe he'd learned from his not-at-all-Nigerian father, who had gone on one of his well-meaning white liberal quests to learn to cook African dishes, the sort of thing he'd probably find irritating in most white people but which was adorable in his dad, and also the dish was delicious. And he had fond memories of his mom's comically exaggerated eye-roll whenever his dad served his latest discovery which he'd lovingly converted to vegan for her.

She texted him a little in the evening, it was coldly practical - she needed to get a large file to him. Once he was ready for bed he opened his laptop and followed the link to download. She'd also told him to just watch this file tonight, but he could watch it as many times as he needed to, She also sent him a payment request, with just the note "for the model." It was quite a lot of money, he sent just "?" She explained it was a custom video, she'd written the script just for him, Ana did the editing for free, and that it would be well worth it, she promised. He paid the money (he wasn't rich, but his job was decently well paid and he had few expenses), and as instructed by Xinyi turned off the lights, stripped naked, lay comfortably on his bed, and opened the video.

The woman in the video was incredibly beautiful, a radiantly dark-skinned woman with intense eyes. She was seated and casually clothed. Her voice just purred, melting and transfixing him. She referred to him by name, introduced herself as Goddess Imani, and began what he guessed was a relaxation exercise. His cock, which had spent most of the day soft, steadily hardened and he started to feel very relaxed, very focused on her words. Knowing who had written those words, that she'd written it just for him, and the obvious care that had gone into all parts of this made him feel loved.

As the video went on, the basic camera shot of Goddess Imani sitting on the chair began to transform into hypnotic swirls as the background melted away and his vision became fuzzier as she talked him down to "sleep," she snapped her fingers and Iniko was deep in trance. She started to explain what they were going to do together now she had him in this state. He was going to learn to edge. She explained (with just a hint of teasing) that this could be difficult for a virgin who couldn't remember how an orgasm felt (the thought that here was yet another person Xinyi had told his secret wafted across his consciousness and disappeared). So she was going to guide him very carefully.

A third layer of visuals were introduced, of Goddess naked and swaying for him, luxuriously posing and caressing her body. They were faint, just barely visible at first from behind the swirls and spirals which were behind the original image of her sitting and talking. He just caught them in his peripheral vision, not entirely sure if he was imagining it at first, but then they started to fade in and out more clearly as the video transitioned between each of the layers moving to the foreground and then fading back again. His hand was on his cock, very slowly stroking it. He hadn't even noticed that happen, but she was instructing him now how tightly to grip, how fast to stroke. It never occurred to him to put up any kind of resistance. She taught him to focus on the sensations, to exactly how pleasurable it felt.

She increased the pace, and described to him the feeling of his orgasm building, which he was pleased to find his body responding exactly how she said. She kept repeating that he was a virgin, that he was a good boy, that he found it entirely natural to obey women, that he was always meant to be a masturbator. He agreed with her that he couldn't even fathom why he had ever done anything else. Was there even a time when he wasn't caressing himself, fucking himself, a good little virgin boy playing with himself. She brought him up, closer, the pleasure increasing, then back down again, allowing it to subside to a pace he could maintain, then back up again, closer each time.

Another stray thought wafted across his mind that the video changed in rhythm with her instructions, bringing her face into focus when he needed to pay more attention to her words, bringing the swirls stronger as he smiled into deeper relaxation and bringing the woman's gyrating form to focus as he got close - Ana was incredibly skilled at this - and then the thought was gone. He felt his first edge, Goddess Imani immediately bringing him back down. She edged him again and again, sometimes for longer, sometimes approaching fast, sometimes building oh so slowly. Each time first reminding him that he was a good virgin jerk puppet and wasn't going to cum.

It was a little over 30 minutes, with about half spent stroking when the video came to the end, although Iniko had absolutely no idea how much time had passed, the memory of a time before now seemed so distant. Goddess Imani ceased his stroking towards the end, had him caressing his body, his balls, his nipples, his thighs, reveling in the sensations of his own touch. The visuals smoothly returned to normal. She brought him out of trance, and brought his attention to how desperate he was to cum now, how his whole body was begging for release. During the trance he'd felt at peace with edging, with the knowledge that there would be no orgasm. But now it rushed back in, every moment from first laying eyes on Xinyi to now he realized had been building to this pure pleasure of his cum exploding from his cock and he wanted it now more than he'd ever wanted anything and he was being denied that release and it was driving him crazier with every moment and certainly with every edge.

Imani talked him through evaluating if he could take another viewing, helpfully explaining that she was going to break him *almost* entirely, making sure she left enough for Xinyi to obliterate tomorrow. He watched twice more and then fell into a restless sleep, the only thought competing with his desperation to be "obliterated" by her.