Orgasm Control - Blog Posts

Been there, great situation.

forever waiting for a cute sub to hump my thigh and whine “I can’t cum like this”, while I just play on my phone and tell them “You will or you won’t cum at all”

Be a good boy and apply. The girl owning me will lead me through this challenge. I can't wait to see her again the end of this month for a lock up day.

Wait for lOcktober, my little stroking boy. Enjoy it.

Too filthy mind – but her cheeks will still turn red

Send me asks pretty please?

Tell me what to do.

Tease me.

Bet you can’t make me blush 😉

Glad a few blogs still post content without revealing too much to hurt the stupid rules

I can’t post preview pics because of the new rules but you should definitely check out my new Fuck Machine - How I Like To Cum video 🖤 Lots of edging ending with a big orgasm!

My befriended Domme allowed me to stroke myself until I cum but only using one finger.

Edged for over 15 hours in the past 3 days..havent released in about a month..fist is bouncing off of full balls crippling my mind

if it doesn’t belong to you, why should you be allowed to touch it?

So incredibly hot!

They Always Lose

Submitted by: Rachel S. "The Milk Maiden"

I get a kick out of it when guys try to resist. Because they always lose. The male organ, raging and hard as it may seem, is weak. Every cock has a weakness, and if you try hard enough, and long enough, never giving up, you can find it and break it. I have a perfect record when it comes to breaking cocks and forcing them to give up their thick, ropy prize.

My hubby has a foot fetish. I found this out when first I caught him staring at mine, and I knew then I would use it against him to control him. It's been three years, and he's learned that male orgasm is a privilege he'll rarely get to experience again. Ejaculation makes a man cocky, so to speak, and while I enjoy seeing a man lose his load, I don't like the macho hangover afterwards. So I milk my men. I get to watch them give up their cum, without giving them the unnecessary pleasure of orgasm.

The procedure I use is the same, although the stimulus varies depending on the man's weakness. Like I said, my hubby loses it over my feet. Any woman's feet, if they're attractive enough, I guess, but I've limited him to mine for a while now and find the results... adequate. Hubby is locked in a CB3000 most of the time, although I have ceded control of him to Goddess Kali and her stingy teeth when he's misbehaved seriously. I love watching his cock strain to expand within its confines. In the battle of flesh versus steel and plastic, flesh always loses. And watching a cock lose gets me hot. Sexually, I live to see cocks struggle against futility.

So, the procedure. Hubby, or my slave of choice- whoever I feel like breaking down- is restrained. Tight. Hands above his head, straps across his chest. I use a tilted board, almost like an ironing board at an angle, with the victim strapped to the top. I make sure there's no way he can even hope to get anything untied. I want no part of him able to move, especially his head, since I want him to see everything that's going to happen. After I've made sure he's nice and secure, with his legs slightly apart, I get down to business.

I tell him if he manages to escape he can have me any way he wants. I've never given it a second thought.

No man wants to see his orgasm dribble away, and he'll fight to keep it in him. It's my job to see to it that the inevitable happens- that his milk flows out and he's drained dry to the last drop. Doing this makes sure he knows his place, and he stays horny even though there's nothing he can do about it. After a man has been deprived of a good ejaculation for a few months, he'll settle in and accept it. The milk flows easier, in glistening strands. If he wasn't securely fastened, I'd swear he'd grind against the vibe in his ass.

Oh yes, the vibrator. It does all the work, really. I position my charge so he can see our computer's monitor. It's the only time hubby gets to use the computer, really. I forbid him to go online unless supervised, since who knows what he'll find out there. I do all of our downloading, and all the communicating with other couples and muses. Whatever I find that I think will tickle his fancy or frustrate him severely, I download. I used to trade pictures with other women, to get new photos of their feet and asses, and use them to tease hubby. But for the most part, now all the pictures are of me. My feet, my pussy, my mouth dripping cum. In a darkened room with rhythmic pulsing music and an insistent vibe up hubby's ass, he stares at pictures of my parts as they flash by on the screen. Quickly he's aroused, and his cock has filled out the plastic tube that holds it close to him. Two weeks of endless teasing and oral servitude have swollen his balls with a bucket of jism, and they're dying to shoot it across my soles. Or down my throat, or up my ass. Whatever he'd like to do with it, it doesn't matter. His load is mine, and I'm doing what I want to do with it.

The pictures vary. If a guy's into asses, I'll give him what he wants. Some men can't cum until they see some other guy blow his load. Sure, whatever. I've got a decent library of porn. Not for their pleasure, so much as to weaken them. After a while of looking at the erotic imagery, the steady force of the vibe will start to work its magic. This is where the fun is for me, fingering myself as my man struggles to keep his load in- to not lose it in such a humiliating manner for so little reward. I know what he's thinking- if he can just outlast the machine, he can keep his cum and fuck me with it. But there's no use. The vibrations grow more urgent, more forceful. The slideshow turns him on more and more, and he can't hold it back much longer. He's been through it a hundred times, and knows how it will end- with his juices dripping into my bowl, the contents then poured across my toes, and him licking every drop up and back into him. His wasted orgasms are recyclable! They're distilled back through his mouth and down to his cock again, purer and purer, each time through leaving him hornier and hornier, but unfulfilled.

The dripping begins. First a moist drop at the tip, then a dribble, then a steady flow. After an hour or so, I've gotten almost everything. It's time for a little extra coaxing- in hubby's case, I usually turn off the monitor, tilt the table almost upright, and place my soles firmly against his face. As he breathes in my aroma, the last of his will crumbles. He relaxes, under my spell, and the flow picks up again. Each inhalation courses through his body, exiting through his cock with a couple more drops. The milking is complete. Another hard cock bites the dust and slowly shrinks back within the chastity device.

Sometimes I let the man wank afterwards. It's not like he's going to get anything out of it. For variety, I'll invite a girlfriend over to watch in secret, or to help tease him during the procedure. You haven't seen a red-faced man until you've seen him strapped down, with a flaccid, embarrassed cock, dripping semen at the sight of young woman in the apartment down the hall as she gyrates in front of him topless. She's going to tell her friends all about his little caged cock and how he doesn't get to fuck like a man.

I'd love to hear how you ladies control your men's cocks, or trade some pictures. Either of yourselves if you want to help tease, or your men caged and under lock and key. More to come soon, including hubby's first public milking and experiments with electricity...

Rachel S. chastimilk@yahoo.com

This is literally the best.

my favourite feeling is making other people grosser and getting them addicted to dirtier kinks they didn't like before :3

I kinda feel bad. I keep deleting accounts like this but I always make new ones… Maybe I am just a dumb slut who needs her holes filled at all time…

You enjoy being mindlessly horny… You enjoy being close to the edge… You enjoy needing permission…

Embrace it.

Ruined orgasms...

Sir just told me apparently ruined orgasms are going to be a norm for me now and proper orgasms are just for rewards >< I don't know how to react to this... when he told me about it I kind of laughed at the absurdity and yet also found the idea of it very hot.

My 2nd day of denial

Sir might have teased me to the point almost combustion last night… he made me get my dildo and gave the suggestion as I slide it in my mind went a bit more blank. Needless to say I was at the edge very fast. I expressed this to sir but he made me keep going… he even had me recite my abc’s. Then he came up with the idea for me to fuck myself fast with it while he counted down from 10. I protested saying I might go over the edge however sir merely said I’d be punished if I did. Sir teased me some more as I updated my diary entry and then had me stand at the mirror watching myself as he made me imagine and feel him fucking me.

After all of that when I finally thought we were winding down sir was giving me some nice pats and scritches. He started to subtly tease me when I was finally starting to relax. He told me how he wants me being in this aroused state to be a norm just like all the other things he’s conditioned me with… As he went on about this plan the hornier I got. He then asked me to tell him about my day but to hide the arousal in my voice. He also hinted at possibly extending the denial for more than a week which I can’t see happening given the state I’m in already…

Denied for a week

This morning sir asked if I'd like to try denial for a week which I agreed to. He said he wants to start making my releases rare so they are more of a reward... 

I've edged for a total of 15 minutes >< totally haven't been feeling horny...

A new rule

Tonight sir decided to make it a rule that when I beg him for release I'll only ever to be able to cum from humping a certain plushie ><

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 3

First Chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter Coming soon :)

Chapter Rating: NSFW 18+

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

Chapter Content Warnings: Explicit smut, Male masturbation, M/M smut scene, Oral

A/N: had so much fun writing the previous chapter that I just couldn't help myself and kept writing.

— Chapter 3 —

Lawrence couldn’t be sure if it was the hex or if it was the sheets that carried Syrath’s scent that caused the urge he felt when he awoke. He lifted the sheets to his face and took a deep breath, soaking in the scent, coffee and grapefruits. He slowly sat up stretching, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he was awake enough to see, his breath hitched. Syrath was in the room, shirtless. 

“Wh-” Lawrence stuttered, pulling the sheet up to cover his nudity, “What are you doing in here?! Are you some kind of pervert?”

“Well firstly, yes.” Syrath shrugged, amused, “But this is my bedroom, where I keep my clothes, so that wasn’t my intention… this time.”

“A… I…”

“And secondly it’s bold of you to call me a pervert when you were just smelling another man’s sheets. Is that a fetish of yours?” he teased.

“GET OUT!” Lawrence exclaimed, pointing to the door. 

“Okay, okay” Syrath laughed, grabbing a shirt off the door and shutting it behind him.

Lawrence let out a breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding. The sight of Syrath, despite himself, sent a fresh flush through Lawrence. He lifted the sheet to look at himself, fully erect. Syrath probably saw the bulge through the sheets. For the second day in a row, he felt humiliated. There was a knock at the door, Lawrence jumped, pulling the sheets up again.

“Your bags arrived a bit earlier, I’ve left them at the foot of the bed for you”

Lawrence didn’t respond.

“Get dressed and I’ll prepare us some breakfast. The door to your left is for the bathroom”

Lawrence waited until he heard Syrath footsteps get further from the door before he jumped out of the bed. He had himself a quick shower and managed to calm himself down with some self-pleasure. He then returned and opened his bags, rummaging through for outfits and makeup. If Syrath thought he was the only one who could be sexy, he had another thing coming. 

—

Syrath took off his apron. He could tell why Lawrence took so long in the shower, he could instinctually sense the pleasure in the air. He did realise that this was exactly what Syrath was hired for, didn’t he? Syrath set the dining table, plated up their breakfast, a fresh croissant sliced in half and filled with melted cheese and freshly chopped tomatoes. Syrath knew he wasn’t going to compare to the Viscara households chefs, but the ingredients carried most of this dish. The bedroom door finally clicked open.

Lawrence emerged wearing a backless tuxedo vest with nothing underneath, showing off his pale porcelain skin. His shorts, again falling to his mid thigh, now revealed legs encased in fishnets instead of being bare. His eyeliner was the same thin charcoal ring, but his lips were a gaudier shade of matte purple. He walked to the dining table and sat across from Syrath, who was admittedly a little stunned at the obvious provocation of Lawrence’s choice of clothes. 

“What? Speechless?” Lawrence quipped.

“Not at all,” Syrath replied, taking his seat, “I was simply enjoying the view.”

Lawrence blushed a little, but he didn’t mind being complimented. He picked up his croissant, took a bite. Then another. Then another. 

“How is it?” Syrath said, smiling.

“I’ve had better” Lawrence responded between chews of his last bite.

“I’m sure you have, as they say ‘Viscara blood demands the best’, but I’m sure the next course won’t disappoint.”

“Next course?”

Syrath tilted his head, exposing his neck, brushed aside a few stray hairs from his nape. “How do you want to do this?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Lawrence huffed. He snatched Syrath's wrist and brought it to his lips, the distinct smell of coffee and grapefruits washed over him. His fangs pierced Syrath’s skin with little resistance, and he slowly sucked. 

Syrath’s blood was a bit strange to Lawrence. Not at all what he expected. He thought incubus blood would be more pungent, but instead, it had a bittersweetness, with a little more thickness than a human’s. It had a decadent moreish quality to it, like chocolate truffles or macaroons. 

Lawrence glanced up, his gaze catching Syrath smirking and placing a hand on his cheek in amusement. Lawrence furrowed his brow and stopped. 

“Something funny?” He said annoyed.

“No,” Syrath replied nonchalantly, “I simply enjoy watching when someone sucks me off.”

“You indecent, vulgar, creature!” Lawrence snapped, standing from his chair. His cheeks flushed red.

“That is,” Syrath began, lifting his arm to his face, “why you hired me.” He gently kissed the purple lip mark on his wrist.

“I-” Lawrence stuttered, “I don’t care what Tati said, you aren’t fit to serve the Viscara.”

“You seem to be mistaken. I am no servant to your blood.” Syrath said, his voice lowering, “I am no one’s servant.”

Lawrence winced at the sudden cold in the air.

“As Lady Viscara mentioned, you are under my roof, and I am under no obligation to continue to shelter you.” Syrath stood, walked to the coat rack at Lawrence’s back, “So if I were you, I’d reconsider my position for the remainder of my time here.” He said locking eyes with Lawrence while putting on his jacket, grabbing his keys.

“Where are you going?” Lawrence questioned.

“You’re not my only client.” Syrath answered.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Syrath raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you need other clients? We’re paying you more than enough to not have to work while I’m here.” Lawrence pressed, stroking his arm both from the chill still heavy in the air and a mild sense of guilt.

“If it was just about the money, I wouldn’t be nearly as good as I am.” Syrath said with a smirk, the warmth in the air returning. “And the Viscara would never have considered me if I wasn’t the best.” Syrath turned to leave but paused at the door. He turned back and walked over to Lawrence, pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’ll return before dark.” He said, before turning and leaving. 

Lawrence stood there for a moment in shock at the emotional whiplash. His mind spun. The tenderness of Syrath’s lips, contrasting the cold in the air from earlier, left a burning brand on his skin. He raised his fingertips to his lips, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to control himself if Syrath had kissed there instead. He slumped back into the chair. He was used to being around beautiful people, it was basically all that vampire society consisted of, but something about Syrath was different to him. It was why he chose him in the first place. He saw a… rawness. A hunger in his sunset eyes that made Lawrence want to be the one to quench it. And just then, even though he was being scolded, he felt goosebumps on his skin, but he wasn’t afraid. He was excited. Something about Syrath made him want to forgo all of the etiquette that was taught to him since young, yet his pride as a Viscara would not allow it.

—

Syrath found Lawrence reading on the couch when he returned. He had changed his clothes to something more suited for lounging, a sleeveless turtleneck and some loose fitting shorts. He was reading a poetry book, it was a first edition, gifted to Syrath by one of his more affluent clients. Most of what decorated his media cabinet were similar gifts. He was especially fond of the statuette of a torso that he had been the model for. He doesn’t see that client anymore, but she was able to capture Syrath’s lithe figure down to the tiniest detail. She was very good with her hands at both sculpting, and… other things. Syrath hung his coat, placed his keys back in their spot. As he approached Lawrence put the book to the side and stood.

“Syrath, I-” Lawrence stuttered, “I’m sorry… For earlier.”

Syrath raised an eyebrow at the sudden apology, more shocked than he was at Lawrence’s outfit that morning. 

“It’s just that... Blood. It’s precious. I was raised to always be respectful when feeding, and…”

“No, I’m sorry also.” Syrath interrupted, “I know nothing of vampire culture. I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

Lawrence paused. Well that was half a day worrying wasted, he thought.

“I had a look around while you were out, unpacked a few of my things.” Lawrence said, “I mean, as long as you don’t mind, this is your roof and -”

Syrath chuckled, kissed Lawrence on his cheek, “Make yourself at home.” He headed to the bedroom, “I’m going to shower. If you’re feeling comfortable, wait for me on the bed, if not, don’t.”

Lawrence felt his stomach tighten. Shortly after he heard the shower running he entered the bedroom, stripped, then waited on the bed. He was trying to figure out the sexiest position to present himself when he felt it. 

The heat. 

The hex. 

It welled up in him like magma. He doubled over from the sudden stimulation, his hand already reaching down to stroke. He didn’t want Syrath to see him like this, to see him when he lost control of himself, but with every stroke the heat grew. Every toss, every turn against the silk sheets made his skin tingle. He bit down, hard, on the pillow case, his hand moving faster out of desperation. He was so engrossed that he didn’t notice the sound of the door click open and shut. Didn’t notice the sound of the towel drop to the floor, or the dip in the bed as Syrath crawled over to him. He didn’t notice until he felt warm breath against his ear.

“You should have called for me” Syrath said, reaching his hand around, taking hold of Lawrence’s. He pulled Lawrence over, on top of his lap. “”Show me,” Syrath ordered, running his finger over Lawrence’s lips, pressing a kiss to his nape, “I want you to show me how you pleasure yourself.”

Lawrence started slow, stroking the length from base to tip, trying to show some semblance of control over himself, even though the heat felt as if it were about to boil over. The feeling of Syrath’s hand along with his was taking him to his breaking point. He began to speed up, couldn’t tell if he was doing it or if Syrath was. Syrath gently laid kisses on his neck, his lips making their way to his shoulder. He let out a moan, a drop of water from Syrath’s wet hair hitting his collar, rolled down his chest. 

Syrath took control of Lawrences heat, squeezing it tight to stop him from finishing.

“How did you know?” Lawrence said through gritted teeth.

“Because I am as you said, an indecent, vulgar, creature.” Syrath answered, lightly nipping the point of Lawrence’s ear. Lawrence raised his other hand to his mouth, trying to muffle his yelp, but the sound escaped him.

Syrath used his other hand, rubbing Lawrence’s tip against his palm while still holding tight. 

“S… Syrath… Fais… Fais-moi jouir” Lawrence begged between moans.

Syrath loosened his grip, allowed Lawrence to release the pleasure into his palm. Syrath drew it in, the pleasure, the hex. He wouldn’t have it interfere. He and he alone would be the one to take Lawrence to his breaking point. Syrath brought his hand up to his mouth. Licked it clean. The distinct salty flavour familiar to him, yet still unique to every partner he’s been with. Syrath spun Lawrence around, laid him on his back.

“You tasted me earlier, how about I return the favour?” Syrath said as he dipped his head down.

It wasn’t the first time Lawrence had someone’s lips around his shaft, but it was the first time it felt like this. Was it the hex’s doing? Or was it that Syrath instinctually knew his weak points? Whatever the case, Lawrence knew that he wouldn’t last long. His fingers gripped Syrath's hair as he continued to suck. He looked down and met Syrath’s sunset coloured eyes, saw the dark hunger in them that he’d noticed since the very first photos he saw. 

“Putain!” Lawrence exclaimed, his head snapped back in pleasure as he reached his breaking point. Syrath swallowed it all, taking it one gulp at a time. 

Syrath pulled his head back, letting Lawrence go with the satisfying pop sound of him releasing suction. He made his way up Lawrence's body, his lips dropping light marks against Lawrence’s abdomen, over Lawrence’s chest, his neck, until he was nibbling at his earlobe, all the while still stroking, stoking the flames so they wouldn't burn out. 

Syrath pulled back slightly, just enough to see Lawrence. He was slick with sweat, his gaze hazy with pleasure. 

Lawrence wrapped his arms around Syrath, his nails slightly digging into his back. He pulled himself up, pressed his lips against Syrath’s, forcing a kiss. Syrath allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. Lawrence let himself go, pressing kisses all over Syrath, down his jaw, his neck, leaving a trail of purple marks in his lip’s wake. Lawrence stopped when he reached Syrath’s collar, could feel the steady pulse just under his skin. He couldn’t help himself. His fangs dug in and he indulged in the sweet taste of Syrath’s blood without restraint.

Syrath stroked Lawrence’s damp hair while he drank, cradling the small of his back. His voice, silk with a hint of satisfaction, cooed gently in Lawrence’s ear.

After a moment Lawrence’s fangs slowly retreated, his lips parting with the flesh around Syrath’s clavicle. 

“You okay?” Syrath inquired, wiping away a tear that pricked at Lawrence’s eye, smudging the black eyeliner around it.  

Lawrence responded with a small nod, laying his head on Syrath’s chest.

“Merci.” Lawrence said after a moment. He reached his hand down, noticing Syrath’s hardness pressing against him, planning to return the favour. Syrath gently grabbed his wrist before he could start.

“Not tonight.” Syrath said, “I’ll take you in your entirety after you get over this hex.”

Lawrence didn’t protest. It was what he wanted too.

Syrath looked at his fingers, stained purple, knowing his face and neck would be the same, “But really, you couldn’t have afforded a lipstick that doesn’t smear?”

Lawrence blushed, “I-” he turned his face away, “I like that it leaves a mark.”

Syrath grinned, his subtle annoyance at the marks on him becoming an appreciation. 

— End of Chapter 3 —

Next Chapter - Coming soon

French:

Fais-moi jouir - Make me come

Putain - fuck

A/N: Really hoped you enjoyed this chapter, again any feedback is more than welcome. Hope you look forwards to what comes next

No teaser yet, will edit this post to add it when I'm deeper into chapter 4 :)

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 1

Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: NSFW 18+

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

Chapter Content Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Explicit smut, Male masturbation, M/F smut scene, Oral (F receiving), Foreplay, F Edging

A/N: This is a story that began with the idea of two characters starting with an intense physical relationship but then developing into an emotional one. I'm hoping that the longer this story continues the more it will go from smut to fluff. I'm hoping this prologue will introduce the two leads well, and I know I'm not the best at writing and I would appreciate any feedback. Anyways without any further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Also special shoutout to @g00-d0mens for giving me encouragement and feedback while writing. Love ya hen.

— Chapter 1 —

Lawrence blinked in confusion. His ruby coloured eyes wide with disbelief. Hexed. He, a vampire aristocrat, hexed. That couldn’t be right. He was above the tricks of human sorcery. He was Lawrence Viscara, pure blooded vampire royalty. There must have been some other explanation. Perhaps his family’s physicians had missed something. Yet the same pride that drove such thoughts also told him that all who served the Viscara house were second-to-none, his blood would tolerate nothing less. 

“It’s quite a peculiar affliction.” the physician chimed, “It’s a tailored variation of the Amor’s Arrow Hex.”

“I don’t care what it is. Merde!” Lawrence snapped, “Why, or better yet, HOW is it that a mere love charm is affecting me?!” he spat. 

“Well I did say it was tailored…” the physician murmured.

Lawrence pinched his brow and let out a frustrated sigh, “And what exactly does ‘tailored’ mean in this sense?”

“Well,” the physician began, his eyes lighting up, “much like curses, hexes are stronger when their target is better defined or, as I mentioned, tailored. In a case like this for something a simple as an Amor’s Arrow hex to affect a pure blood such as yourself means-”

“-that someone is targeting you specifically.” a woman interrupted. 

“Tati!” Lawrence exclaimed, uncrossing his legs and straightening his posture. 

“Madame Viscara,” the physician uttered, standing to bow. 

Eleanor Viscara flowed into Lawrence’s bedroom as if she were the very embodiment of ancient lineage, her stride a living testament to generations of power and prestige. Each step she took was measured, each stride of her majestic gait deliberate, as to invoke a sovereign majesty, born not of mere descent, but of a sacred, violent heritage. Her hair, the same pale blonde as her nephew’s, was neatly fashioned in a traditional braided updo. She wore a purple brocade dress, hand woven with an intricate design, telling the stories of bloodsoaked battles and fallen kings. The various jewels, necklaces and rings that adorned her whispered to the preferences of previous heads of the Viscara bloodline. 

“Laurie, ma poupée, you look haggard.” Eleanor stated, a hint of affection in her tone, as she took the seat the physician stood from. 

“Tati, I-”

“Don’t fret, you’re not the first of our blood to fall victim to a curse or two,” she jested, “just a handful of millenia ago, before you were born, your cousin got on the wrong side of a Djinn. For a decade the blood he drank tasted of what he could only describe as wood chips and pencil shavings. Although he seemed to have acquired the taste, even today he’ll often drink blood with a vile accompanied bottle of Malört.”

“But why would someone hex me?” Laurie implored, “And why with… This?”

“You,” Eleanor began, stroking Lawrence’s cheek,  “are too beautiful for your own good, and I would imagine that whoever did this had… rather perverse intentions. Rassure-toi, ma poupée, our blood is strong and will fight this with time, during which I will have to keep you out of sight.”

“Out of sight?” Lawrence questioned, “for how long?”

“Until this affliction subsides, Laurie. You know how important it is for us to maintain our public perception, we cannot allow any hint of weakness to show, and unlike with your cousin this isn’t something you’d be able to bear with and hide.”

“I-” Lawrence hesitated. He wrestles with the idea of trying to hide it, but memories of the previous night when he experienced it for the first time told him otherwise. The unforgiving heat that welled up inside him. His futile attempts to quench the fire that burned at him from within. His whole body flushed, sensitive to every touch, even the smallest brushing against his bedsheets sending shocks to coursing through his body. By the time sunlight began creeping through his curtains and the effects subsided he was left breathless in sheets soaked through with sweat and cum.

He had to submit to the truth. She was right. 

“If I may,” the physician offered respectfully, “although there is no ‘cure’ to an amor’s arrow hex there are recommended treatments. The method with the most studied benefits is-” the physician paused, reading their gazes and trying to come up with the best words as not to insult. 

“Well, go on?” Lawrence huffed, “If there’s any way to speed up the process just spit it out already.”

“Physical intimacy-” the physician muttered before clearing their throat, “Physical intimacy has been noted as the fastest method of causing the effects to subside.”

“Ah… oui. There is always the chance that the caster will try to approach you, or worse this could be a planned attack on our standing. I’ll make arrangements.”

—

Syrath was busy when his agent called him. His tongue buried deep within a woman he’d met only a few hours prior. 

“Sy… please… ” the woman begged.

Syrath let his teeth scrape softly against her, a silent warning. He was enjoying every moment of her frustration, relished every whimper, every jolt she couldn’t control. Her thighs clenched around his head and her fingers gripped the pitch black wisps of his hair. He instinctually knew exactly where to lick, where to poke and prod to take her right to her limits, and when to stop to keep her from going over the edge. He gripped one of her thighs and pushed it aside, freeing his lips to wander up her body, against her abdomen, brushing her ribs, over her breasts, against her neck, along her jaw, nipping gently at her earlobes. He pulled back and licked his lips, darkened and wet with saliva, a satisfied smirk on his face. His sunset coloured eyes met hers, and he savoured every drip of her ecstasy. 

“I told you, I’d make you beg.” Syrath purred, his voice smoother than silk. He ran his hand along her thigh, teased his thumb on her clit and spread her with his fingers, his tip pressed against her opening. He loved it, seeing his partners laid bare before him, a thin sheen of perspiration coating their body. It filled him with dark and wanton desires.

— End of Chapter 1—

Next chapter

A/N: I just want to give a massive thank you for reading this all the way to the end. I know I left it on quite the tease, but I think it makes sense for introducing a character like Syrath lol. I'll hopefully be posting a new chapter once a month as long I can keep myself from procrastinating and life doesn't get too hectic. Again any bit of feedback would be greatly appreciated and I hope you'll continue this story with me. Who knows where this'll end up?

Edit:

Chapter 2 Teaser

“Do you have any qualms with any of our terms or any other questions?”

“I’ve got the gist. But there is one thing,” Syrath turned his attention to Lawrence, “So, are you a virgin?”