author’s note – this is pretty similar to the first story I posted about a day ago, but I wrote this one a while back on my phone when I was horny/bored, and borrowed elements of it later to write ‘Magic and Science’ – since people liked that, I thought some of you might enjoy what inspired it. This one is 100% a stand alone, whereas ‘magic and science’ has room in it to expand, and there are some notable differences, but otherwise it basically hits the same concepts.
—
You knew the Mind Witch, at least in passing. You knew that she went by Whim, that she lived just a few streets over in an impressively sized mansion, and that she gave out amazing memory charms and other helpful mind-based knickknacks at a reasonable bargain. Probably, she sold them a bit too cheap for their quality, but you weren’t about to complain.
You also knew she was a little too open about certain interests. Not that you minded, since she clearly had a good sense for when a topic would be particularly inappropriate instead of just mildly so.
“You know, a witch’s magic production is at its highest during orgasm,” Whim smirks, eyes glinting at your awkward flush. Maybe you were a little too interested in her inappropriate topics. You’d only come for a motivation charm- a little more expensive than her usual wares, but more than worth it. You wonder if it would be better to ignore her statement or just brush it off.
“Of course,” Whim speaks again, “An orgasm only lasts so long, and can only produce so much magic. So the most efficient way for a witch to produce magic is actually to be at the point just before that, where one can be kept near-indefinitely with the right setup.”
You wonder what such a setup would look like, and quickly banish the next thought about what it would feel like. You feel a sharp tingle anyways. Whim’s smile widens, and for a moment you’re afraid she can tell. But if she were truly mind reading, you’d be able to tell as a witch yourself, right? You push your nervousness down. “That’s… interesting,” You try to sound casual.
“Hmm,” She agrees, leaning back in her seat. “They say, at the right level, you actually make enough magic for permanent Emergency Sustenance.”
“Wait, what!? Really?” Your voice raises, genuinely incredulous. “There’s no way.” Emergency Sustenance was when magic itself generated what your body needed to survive, in absence of actual water or food. It helped you live longer than the non-magic population when in need, but it was never something permanent, only buying someone a few more weeks.
Whim shrugs. “That’s what the research says. Personally, I just like to believe it’s true. It makes for some very nice fantasies.”
“I bet,” You say without thinking. Suddenly, Whim is grinning again, and you can’t help a slight blush. You don’t mean to admit the fantasy is appealing for you too.
“Just imagine it,” Whim speaks wistfully. “Being so close you can taste it, but it’s not quite there. You squirm, but it doesn’t help. You’re so stimulated you can’t think of anything else. Your magic keeps you energized, but only so you can suffer more. Then, entire days of that, helpless, until you go crazy.”
You gulp, and pointedly do not shift, even though a hopeful heat between your legs makes it tempting.
“I have something inspired by that, actually,” Whim catches your gaze with a mischievous look, and even though she can’t be reading your mind, you know that she knows. “It’s nothing so permanent or even all that long, of course.The spell deteriorates after 90 minutes, for safety reasons. And it’s a guiding-spell with no anchor, so it can be disconnected and killed at any time. I can personally attest that it’s, well, quite nice. If denial is in *any* way your thing.”
Your mouth goes a bit dry when Whim abruptly lifts a hand and flicks her fingers open, a rolled up sheet of paper flying neatly into her grip. “I can tell you’re at least curious, and you’re a wonderful customer of mine, so I’d like to offer one for free.”
“Um,” You startle, part of you very much wanting it, even if it’s not being described in any sort of detail, and the other part far too embarrassed to say so.
“I insist,” Whim grins, pushing it toward you. “On my honour as a witch, it is safe and easily escape-able. Oh, but it will make you feel wonderfully trapped and needy. You’ll have the best orgasm in your life when it’s done, and that’s a promise.”
Your heart leaps in your chest at the pitch. You’d never come this close to being frank with another person about your kinks, nevermind a Mind Witch you only knew professionally. “Uhm, I mean, are you sure..?” You can’t stop from asking. She already had you pegged anyways, you reason.
Her expression is almost wolf-like as she nods. “I could probably charge a lot for them, but I’d rather give it to those I know will love it the most. Just trust me.”
You aren’t sure if you trust her, really. But you do trust the skill of her magic, your numerous purchases spoke to that. And really, you shouldn’t be embarrassed when Whim was the one always bringing stuff like this up. You’re human, you’re allowed to find things hot. Hesitantly, you take it with a tiny nod.
“Just one thing,” She says. “Use it somewhere private, where you won’t be bothered by anyone for at least 2 hours. It is not a subtle spell-guide, and it’s single use, so if you have to cancel it due to poor location, it will just be wasted. Also, you’ll need about a half-metre of space all around you ”
You swallow. “Got it.”
You leave Whim’s home quicker than usual, excited in more ways than one.
—
It was time. You aren’t expecting any guests tonight, and there was a cleaned up room with opaque curtains drawn, waiting for you. You carefully hold the spell-guide in your hands. Spell-guides required no skill except for the ability to channel magic into it- the runes written on the paper would direct your magic for you, performing a complex spell that you wouldn’t be able to do on your own. You’ve only used a few of them before, and never for a purpose like this. Your thighs clench as another wave of anticipating warmth surges. Your clothes lay in a pile by the door- a note slipped into the Spell-guide recommended a naked body. You were ready.
You pump magic into the spell-guide. It pulses gently with light, magic weaving delicately into the written runes. The paper flutters, floating in the air, before dropping limp in your hands as the runes lift off the page. Useless now, you let it fall gently to the floor. Your magic starts tugging away from you of its own accord. It’s more than you’re used to from previous spell-guides, but nothing hugely concerning. You can feel it moving, but it’s not against your control- a gentle tug backwards easily pauses the flow. You let it continue, satisfied with Whim’s word.
A silvery light begins to swirl about your torso and up your arms. You watch in fascination as it forms into some type of clothing that clings tight against you. It tightens at your back like a corset, and it’s stiff enough to make your back straighten. You run a hand over the material- leather, maybe? It’s soft to the touch, and darkens to black as it solidifies against you. Your fingers gently clench into fists as the silver glow encases your hands and darkens, trapping them. You start to lift one hand to inspect it, but the light stretches, pulling your arms tight across your midsection and seamlessly strapping them down. You wiggle, core pulsing with a kind of excitement that made you flush- your upper body is neatly trapped in perfectly fitted and just-slightly-too-tight thick, yet breathable leather.
You feel it shifting further, the cloth parting around your breasts, exposing them but also supporting them as well as your best bra. You instinctively pull your arms to cover them, but you can’t, they’re trapped in a tight self-hug that only emphasizes your assets more. You look around again, slightly concerned despite yourself, but you’re still isolated and there’s no way anyone can see you like this. You allow yourself to relax as the spell tugs a bit more of your magic to make a pleated leather mini-skirt that barely hides your crotch and doesn’t even completely cover your ass.
The magic pauses a moment, and you wonder if that’s somehow it. But it’s building to something. You wait another moment, and suddenly something solid is pushing your feet apart. You stumble, nearly falling forward without your arms to balance you. Before you can land on your face, the something lifts and spreads- a long, hard wedge shape rises between your legs, pushing them away from each other until you’re forced to sit down on it like a saddle. It’s edge, and the fact that you aren’t even wearing underwear makes it uncomfortable though, so you try to stand anyways, but it’s still rising and suddenly your feet aren’t even touching the ground.
You instinctively clench your legs against the wedge to steady yourself as it lifts into the air, yelping at the sensation. It’s slippery, and you’re afraid of falling off when you can’t use your arms. Your legs dangle, the base of the wedge ending at your knees and held in the air by thick posts supporting it in the front and back with even wider bases of their own. The structure clearly isn’t going to be knocked over.
Something solid forms against your ankles, and you crane your neck- short chains lock them to the floor. More clink just above your knees that chain to the underside of the wedge. You can lift each leg still, but only a bit, not enough to completely lift your crotch clear of the wedge pressing tight against it. All you can do to alleviate the pressure is clench your thighs and push as hard as possible against the sides, but it’s smooth and hard to grip so it takes effort, and soon enough you need to give your muscles a break, resting your full weight against the wedge.
You would believe it now, if this was it. You were truly pinned- ability to cancel the spell aside- in a compromising position and aroused despite yourself by the inconvenient seat pressing into you. You’re not quite ready for the next part.
It starts with a slightly stronger tingle, not unusual since you were turned on even before beginning of the spell. Then, it’s a wave of want as something makes you feel unnaturally sensitive. Then, you feel it, your own magic settling over your brain like a blanket, causing heightened sensations to dance between your legs. You remember that Whim is a Mind witch, and it only makes sense that she can control that as well. You’re still not prepared for the way it makes you arch your back, as suddenly the pressure is doing something.
Then, to top it off, a buzzing starts. The entire wedge tip, front to back, is suddenly a vibrator. You make a wordless noise as it teases you, the buzzing somehow both gentle and penetrating. You can’t help but grind into the device your strapped into, feeling immediately close to release. But something causes the vibrations to recede just in time, humming too distantly to help you. You groan, and try harder, but you’re only met with frustration.
As soon as you’ve given up, the vibrating is back, lightning shooting through your core. You jump again, as much as you can like this. You let it happen this time and relax, only for the buzzing to go deeper. You squeeze your legs to get away from it, but you only partially succeed and your legs give out again, sensation flooding you. Your eyes roll back as it comes- it’s almost there- and its gone again, your clit nearly screaming from the potential.
Soon enough, you find yourself mindlessly struggling like a trapped animal. There’s nothing you want more than to finish, but the spell won’t let you, sending you from the edge again and again as you squirm both into and away from the vibrations. You can’t even speak, panting and whining instead. It’s absolute torture and it’s the best you’ve ever felt. You feel the wedge under your crotch get wetter and wetter as you are lost to your denial. A haze of pleasure and sexual frustration settles over you as your toes curl over and over and you wiggle in a vain attempt to complete.
The next thing you know, someone is in your room. A cold panic floods you, but it doesn’t stop the cycle of pleasure you’re in and your brain scrambles to find the spell to stop it.
“No, no, don’t cancel it on my watch!” It’s Whim, somehow. “I promise I’m not judging, and it looks like your having such a lovely time.” In your normal state of mind, you’d stop it anyways. Now, you only blush head to toe at your predicament, most of your thought process still derailed by absolute need.
“I don’t mean to startle your private time, I just have a locator included in the spell- just in the rare chance some error occurred- imagine being truly trapped like this!” She laughed. You could only whine as the very idea brought you closer.
Of course, that was exactly when your climax receded from your grasp yet again, leaving you panting. Whim looked you over, up and down. “You really do look… good, like this. I chose right in letting you have it. Tell me though, aren’t you ready to come, finally?”
You nod wildly, desperate. “Are you sure?” Whim teases, leaning in closer to drift a hand across your bare thigh. You arch at the touch, and nod as hard as you can. “Come on, use your words, and I give you *my* word, I’ll help you come.” Her smirk is ravenous.
You can’t think of anything but the promise she’s implying. “O-oh my god, yes!” You manage to say, barely stringing the words together as the spell starts slowly ramping you up again.
“What’s the magic word?” Whim looks like she’s having the time of her life, comfortably leaning one arm against the wedge you are chained to. Her confidence is maddening, and also in that moment, intensely attractive.
“P-p-please,” You manage, gasping as your core burns with stimulation.
Whim nods slowly and pulls something from the bag at her side. “Let me put this on you, then, and I promise you can come.” Your eyes aren’t in focus, but you stare at it until they are- it’s a gag, the kind that’s dildo shaped and goes deep into your mouth to tickle the back of your throat. It’s also punishingly large, but that hardly matters. Driven nearly mad, you open your mouth wide.
Whim takes just enough time to nod. “Good girl. You’re going to enjoy this.” Then, she leans up, and presses the gag between your teeth. With one solid motion, it’s forcing your tongue down and spreading your jaw wider than you thought it could go. It’s so far in you feel your gag reflex trigger and automatically try to spit it out. With a tight buckle against the back of your head, however, it’s secured in place. You try to make a noise, but there must be something magical about it because you don’t make more than a soft huff.
“There we go, just relax your throat and the gag reflex will leave. Don’t try to fight it, that just makes it worse.” Whim is whispering in your ear, and you toss your head in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure. It does just make it worse though, so you try to relax even though it immediately makes a line of drool drip down the corner of your mouth.
Throughout all of this, you are still agonizingly close, only now you can’t protest it. This only makes it worse and you start wiggling against your confines as if it could do anything.
“Yes, yes, I know, I did promise,” Whim’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. “But the thing you have to know with witches, even if you are one, is that you’ve got to watch for the wording. See, I promised that I’d let you come… home with me, where I can enjoy letting you sit there, enjoying yourself, for as long as I like.”
You startle, twisting as much as you can to meet her eyes. You can’t believe it. “You see, now that I have you here, you may be noticing something.” She lets a finger trail one of your breasts casually, as if she’s got all the time in the world. The touch feels like a trail of electricity to your oversensitive body, and your back arches even higher. “That gag? Is an anchor for this spell. You’re not in control of it anymore.”
You immediately check. Your magic is being pulled along merrily, but now it’s foreign to you, slipping through your metaphorical fingers like water. You couldn’t grasp it. Panic starts to rise in your chest. “Another fun thing about that anchor, it grants physicality to the spell.” Whim raps her knuckle against the wedge. “This will endure now, as long as the gag is in good shape. And it’s made to last a lifetime.”
You struggle with all your might, but just as it didn’t do anything before, you are helpless to it. Despite your predicament, or perhaps because, you feel even more aroused-impossibly close to climax. You’re held there longer, painfully close. But it never comes. You try to scream, but only the quietest whimper escapes you.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Whim comforts you, though her expression is anything but comforting. “You’re clearly enjoying yourself. You stayed in the spell for it’s full length, you know? I only stopped you minutes before it would have naturally released you, so clearly, you wanted an extension. Just look at how well your magic took to this- I’m just giving you your fantasy.”
She leans in closer. “And, of course, you will be an excellent subject for that theory I was discussing. I do wonder if you really can sustain yourself forever like this.”
You can’t, you’re certain you can’t. The knowledge that you’re truly stuck only makes you burn hotter- but never quite hot enough. Whim whispers a spell, clutching something in one hand, with the other gripping your thigh. In an instant, you find yourself- entrapments and all- in a room you recognize as Whim’s house through the decor, though the room itself is unfamiliar. It has no windows, and a comfy chair in one corner.
“Make yourself at home,” Whim giggles, flicking her hair over one shoulder. “I’m going to go make some popcorn. Something tells me you’re going to make an entertaining night for me.” She pats your leg gently, and leaves, closing the door behind her.
You can’t make a noise. You can’t do anything more than squirm helplessly against the construct you were in as the spell made you more and more sensitive and the vibrations teased you to the edge. Soon enough you stopped thinking of escape. You stopped thinking of anything. You only felt.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kqlvl5/dont_trust_sketchy_spells_f_ff_edging_self