Pleasuring Her

His other hand crept up her sides and dragged slow circles on her breast. They were firm, and there was a lot for him to explore. Every now and then, the back of his hand or a careless flick of his fingers would brush the air near her nipple making it harden and rise. All the while his other hand continued teasing her over her skirt, coaxing her clitoris to come out. He was teasing her slowly and she felt she liked the pace. Her arousal was growing and she could tell his was too.

By the time his slow circles reached her areola, she felt she was melting. He began to add to the assault by nibbling her ears and occasionally exploring it with his tongue, but always teasingly short of what she really wanted. The feel of the fabric against her budding clitoris was not enough, but a line had been drawn in her mind and she refused to ask him to touch her on her clitoris directly. The hand playing with her areola was dangerously close to her nipple and she realised her body was straining to be touched there.

Then suddenly his hand deserted her and went to the other breast. Her eyes flew open. "What?" she breathed. He started caressing her other breast, trying to get her other nipple to rise up. "You bastard," she breathed again, closing her eyes. She thought she could hear him grin.

His hand started getting closer and closer to her nipple. His other hand was working magic against her clitoris despite the skirt being in the way. If anything, the damp skirt seemed to transmit the ridges of his skin directly onto her clit. The presence of the skirt made it feel all the more illicit, like it shouldn't be there, or maybe it was the promise that this could feel even better if the skirt were removed. She started feeling hot and noticed her breathing quickening.

A finger brushed her areola near the base of the nipple and she exhaled a groan-moan. Then his hand cruelly left and travelled back to her other breast.

Her eyes flew open again and she wanted to call him all kinds of filthy names but decided he would probably enjoy that. Instead, she resettled into him and squeezed his shaft harder, showing him her need and hoping to transmit it to him through the one weakness that all men seemed to have.

It might have worked. He made a quick exploration of the breast he had first attacked before arriving at the centre prize which she loved. His fingers started grazing her in sensitive areas and she could feel herself losing control. She was struggling against his touch making her chest move and her breasts bounce in such a way that her nipples made sweet contact against his fingers. She was breathing in short bursts with each moment of contact. She was just so incredibly sensitive. She wondered if he'd done something to her but realised that if he did, she probably wouldn't even be coherent and that this feeling was likely to be entirely her own arousal, heightened perhaps by her previous arousal. She was being played; played skilfully by a man whom she had no doubt could give her the most intense pleasure ever. And yet here he was, strumming her slowly and leisurely, giving her what she wanted -- a natural arousal. He had manoeuvred his fingers on either side of her nipple now and was feather-touching one side of her erect nipple with the pad of his thumb then other side with a finger. The frequency was increasing to the point where she knew he would soon be running her nipple between his fingers. The touches were so light and her nipples were so sensitive. Combined with the teasingly erotic feelings in her clitoris that he was stimulating, she felt her mind slowly toppling over the edge of a mental cliff. He leaned over the top of her, made a compliment about her breasts that she didn't quite catch and proceeded to blow cool air over her nipples, alternating it with the heat of his fingers.

She was becoming unhinged. Burning ecstasy was threatening to overwhelm every fibre of her being. She wanted him to squeeze and pull her nipple even though she knew that wasn't what she really needed. She wanted to rip off her skirt so she could feel his hands directly on her clitoris but she refused to give in and he seemed in no hurry to help her there. She started lifting her skirt almost deliriously and squeezed his penis harder for good measure.

He seemed to take the hint and lifted his hand temporarily off her skirt then resumed his ministrations under the skirt, directly on her clitoris.

She moaned something unintelligible. She wasn't even sure what she was trying to say. Her body was strung tight and she was twitching every which way. The possibility that he could at any time do so much more and send her careening into pleasure-land, screaming her ecstasy without a care for anything was unbelievably arousing. Just the thought that he could increase her pleasure ten-fold with but a thought, had her writhing beneath him, secretly wishing for more. It was a thought she kept well-guarded, but it didn't stop her traitorous mind from wanting it.

"Oh, Xavier..." She moaned, "Fuck." She was humping her hips against his hands. "Fuck" He pushed his fingers down hard on her nub, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her. "Oh..." He did it again. "Oh..." And again, each time wringing an exhalation of ecstasy from her panting lips.

She'd given up trying to arouse his penis by now. Her hands were flat on the bed, supporting the weight of her traitorous body as she arched helplessly against him. She wanted nothing more than to push his hands deep into her to give her what she knew she needed but... Goddamnit she won't. She won't give in to him like that. All other rational thought had long since left her mind but she clung on to this mantra, fighting the pleasure and refusing to use her hands in such a manner. Her body had different ideas. She was bucking and screaming as she stretched herself taut, trying to increase the pressure as his hand rode her up and down, the pressure never changing despite how she wriggled and pleaded.

She was whimpering mindlessly. Her voice had gone up several octaves. She was mewling and breathing in short bursts. "Xavier..." she heard her voice. "Just..." What did she want? What words? Words. What? She found herself unable to complete any coherent train of thought. She was swimming in a sea of erotic bliss, single syllables escaping from her trembling lips between ecstatic moans. Surely he knew what she wanted. Surely he could see her whimpering, completely at his mercy. He must know that she needed... needed.

He started flicking her clitoris hard. "Oh..." she moaned, or screamed, she wasn't sure. He flicked it again and again, "Oh... no... nonono." She wasn't sure why she was saying no. Maybe she meant yes? Her mind was swirling. She couldn't get enough air. Words made no sense. Her body was betraying her and wanting more and more and her hands just couldn't keep still, clenching and unclenching, with some part of her holding on to the one truth that she wouldn't beg for more. She threw her head back and screamed her body's frustration, arching her delirious hips into his bold hands, writhing in his arms, squealing her pleasure with a body that was no longer hers to control. She was tossing her head back and forth with lust-filled eyes, crying with delirium, panting with need, her soul dissolving in the liquid fire of molten ecstasy. He seemed so strong, holding her in place as her body rode on the crest of waves of pleasure, struggling in his grip in its eagerness to feel him touch her.

She could feel his sweat and his scent surrounding her. His fingers were driving her mad. How could he be doing this to her. Why couldn't she come? In one quick movement, she seized his hand and pushed it hard -- ALL THE WAY -- against her clitoris as hard as she could whilst angling her hips upwards at the same time, seeking to push herself into the most powerful orgasm of her life. She screamed in pleasure and frustration, arching her nude torso right off the bed, tossing her head back with her face the picture of erotic bliss.

"Why can't I come?" She was about to say more but his hand moved and conscious thought evaporated. Lightning struck her body in wave after wave as she moaned a litany of incoherency. She needed to speak and she knew of only one way. Grabbing his hand, she pushed it down hard against herself with a simultaneous upward thrust of her hips again. A blinding bolt of pleasure seared through her threatening to wipe her completely from the planet. Fighting through the pleasure, she held his hand still and rode through the unending waves of delight. Conscious thought returned and she quickly gasped, "What did you do?" before he moved his body and jostled her -- and by extension her clitoris -- against his hand, sending wave after crashing wave of pleasure through her soul, clouding her mind once more and wringing animalistic cries of lust from her sensual lips.

"I'm just holding your orgasm in check. I'm actually finding it really tough."

The fog cleared a little. What? He was using his power? He agreed not to use his power. Anger replaced her arousal, surprising her in its intensity, "You Agreed! No power. No playing with my feelings!" She yelled, starting to turn around to face him.

He tensed up immediately before she could turn around. He knew her arousal was over and could feel her anger coming. Before she could shift, he wrapped both his arms around her body, trapping her arms next to her sides in a bear hug. Then, with her sitting between his thighs, he wrapped his ankles around the inside of her calves and spread her legs out wide in one fluid motion.

"What? Let go of me!" She struggled in vain. Her arms were pinned and she couldn't move her legs. When she tried to close her legs, she found his ankles had her pinned. She couldn't open her legs further because they were so wide it hurt to open them further.

"Don't struggle. It's pointless," he said softly. "I never agreed to not use my power," he added.

Her eyes darkened. She certainly remembered asking him to not use it, and even offered her body and arousal for him so he wouldn't use it. She stopped struggling. It was pretty pointless. His larger frame completely dwarfed hers, not to mention she was pretty certain he could just make her stop. She searched her memories to see if she could remember him actually agreeing. She certainly felt like he had agreed even if he didn't say it.

He continued, "I didn't use my power to arouse you. The feelings you felt were entirely yours."

She wasn't entirely sure she trusted him on that. Despite the sudden end to her arousal, she could tell it was still there beneath the surface. She had been really worked up. Was that really all her? She couldn't recall ever having been that crazy before, except for earlier in the night. This time felt different though. The buildup was slower and more gradual. The earlier experiences were like having explosions in her brain, this one was like riding on the crest of a wave forever and ever. Both were like nothing she had ever experienced before and like nothing she had ever imagined. Just thinking about it even now was making her realise how incredible those experiences were. He claimed the last one was just her arousal. Really? That didn't seem possible.

"I call bullshit," she claimed. And then somewhat honestly, "I've never felt anything like that in my life. It's you. You're doing something." Inwardly, she thought it wasn't all that bad, but she certainly wasn't going to tell him that.

"I just kept your arousal in check, Kaye. The arousal was really all you." He lifted one arm to rub his temple before resuming his bear hug, a gentler hug this time. "It's giving me a headache. I'll have to find some other way to do this."

It was strange to think he was getting a headache. Here she was, writhing beneath his magic fingers with her brain screaming in sexual stimulation and he was hurting just to keep her there. She tried to imagine the situation reversed with her hurting but giving pleasure to a man and the closest she could imagine was her first time with her drunken boyfriend who was doing her whilst she was still dry. He was getting pleasure, but she wasn't and she was hurting. Was that an appropriate comparison to her current situation? It didn't seem to fit. She couldn't imagine it.

"Why?" she asked, honestly confused.

"Why what?" he asked, also honestly confused.

"Why do you do that? What do you get out of making me melt for you?"

He paused for a long while, thinking. She found herself wondering what he was thinking and how he was thinking. She found herself wondering what he sees when he looks at her. What does a man like this get out of making me melt for him? He brushed a hand gently along her breast and answered, "You're beautiful."

Her anger seemed to melt away. There was something about a powerful man looking at you like you mean everything to him. Feeling worthy of beauty and feeling important to this man, this mysterious man -- important enough to make him go to extreme lengths to do things for you seemed to be her aphrodisiac and this man was doing just that. Recalling the dizzying heights of pleasure that he seemed to love to take her to made her breathless. She looked down and was surprised to see she was still wearing a skirt, a large wet patch in the middle reminding her of her earlier arousal. She wondered what stopped him from ripping off her skirt and just fucking her brains out. She certainly wouldn't have stopped him. Yet, here he was, sitting calmly with his boxers still on, demonstrating restraint by teasing her slowly through her skirt. Showing his love for her beauty by blowing her mind apart in the most sensual and seductive game she had ever played with a man. She felt erotically charged. The slightest movement of her hips made her tingle down below. It was easily the best sex she'd ever had. He really hadn't done anything to harm her, or had he?

"Are you making me less angry now?" she asked.

"No. I'm not."

"Promise me?"

"I promise." After a short pause, "I also promise to tell you in future before playing with your arousal centre."

Oh. That was surprising. After all he'd done to her, she hadn't expected him to agree to that and he'd just given it to her. "Really?" she asked. In hindsight, she wondered if there was something smarter she could have said. She never liked rhetorical questions and here she was, asking one. She blamed her current state of hormones for it.

"I promise."

She decided to ask a smarter question, "How come?"

He paused before answering. "I don't want to manage anger."

He really wasn't one for long explanations. She decided to use a technique she'd read about in a magazine and just waited with silence to see if he had anything more to add. She didn't have to wait long.

"I like you as you are." He added. "Playing with your emotions would rob you of who you are."

Well that was deep. She was glad she waited. She thought about what he had said. Could he really change who I am? If he were to take away my anger, or reduce feelings of sadness or grief, or any other emotion she were to feel, would that change who she was? How was changing her arousal any different? She knew sex with Xavier would be beyond anything she had ever experienced and that definitely changed how she viewed him, but would it change anything else about her? Would it change her personality?

She decided it probably would. If she came to accept the intense level of pleasure he could give her, she would probably come to want to spend every moment of every day being with him, to the exclusion of all else. It would be like a drug. Even now, her body was buzzing with anticipation. Her body wanted the pleasure but her mind was not comfortable with it. She was surprised she was able to think so calmly.

"Are you using your power to calm me down now?" she asked for a second time.

"No." He answered.

He really wasn't one to use two words when one would suffice. "Really?" she pressed. There. She'd done it again. Another rhetorical question. She really needed to just get these hormones over and done with.

"Really." He confirmed.

She decided to believe him. He really had no reason to lie.

"And you'll tell me in advance what it is you're going to do to me?"

"I will."

What she really wanted to know, was if he would be willing to never use the ability on her again. She realised she was pushing it, but she really needed to know. "What if I don't ever want you to arouse me artificially again?"

He tensed up and gripped her tightly again. She wondered why. She wasn't going to fight him. He'd said it before -- it was pointless. He could have her moaning on the ground at a moment's notice. She didn't want that.

His grip was still tight. He seemed to be struggling with indecision. Several times she heard him open his mouth only to close it again. Her heart beat faster. Could he really be considering letting her go -- letting her go free of his mind control? The opportunity was too good to give up. She had to act now.

She decided to plead sincerely to him. Softly, she said, "I really don't want you to play with my arousal like that again. Please?" She let the last word hang in the air between them. A pregnant silence with an unknown date of delivery. She realised she was awaiting his answer and she'd stopped breathing.

His grip tightened. He was squirming a little as his chest rose and fell. Finally, his grip loosened and he let out a deflated, "I can't." So soft it was barely audible.

She felt let down. She had hoped.

He interrupted her thoughts with one of his own, "Why don't you want me to give you pleasure?"

She knew why. She was scared. It was amazing. It was weird. It was intense. She wanted it. She didn't want it. She was afraid she would throw away everything just to be with him for what he could do to her. She didn't understand him. She wanted to understand him. Her mind felt like it was being sucked dry and she craved the feeling but intellectually rejected it. It was the most intense erotic feeling. It was unnatural. Mostly, she feared she would like it too much. He had awakened a sexual desire in her she never knew she had which kept her simultaneously trembling in fear and trembling in anticipation. She was confused and she didn't know if she could share the complex battery of emotions within her. Outwardly, she just said nothing. The silence elongated between them like the shadow of the setting sun until all hues became equally dark.

He'd released her now and was idly playing with her hair. She usually liked that, but was a little too worked up at the moment for it to have any effect on her. She wondered if he could tell.

"Can you read minds?" she asked, looking at his thighs wrapped on the outside of her legs.

"No."

She idly started tracing patterns on his inner thigh with her nails, unconscious of her movements, lost in thought. "What am I thinking now?" she asked.

Her thoughts had moved on. She was with a man who could turn emotions on and off seemingly with a flick of a switch. She wondered what she would do with such power. Would she get herself a male harem? Would she bend everyone to her will? His actions had been actually relatively benign, all things considered. Was feeling intense pleasure really all that bad? She'd still be able to go out and enjoy life, right? The sex was good -- damn good -- but in the end it's still just sex. Could she keep it at just sex when it was this good? Did she want more than sex from him? Frankly, he was a little frightening with what he could do. She didn't see how a real relationship was possible. Certainly not if he could just do this to any woman he fancied. Maybe he just wanted her for sex. What else did he do with his power? Did he only use it for sex? Did he have other women? What would sex with him be really like? She realised a central theme for her thoughts was sex. Well, she was still really worked up from earlier and had no release. She was being held close by a man who exuded sexuality and she could be a plaything in his hands if he chose. Yet, he'd so far demonstrated remarkable restraint, care and concern. He'd even dated her a few times before taking her to the bedroom. With his ability, there certainly had been no need to do that. She decided that aside from his unbelievable abilities and sexual quirk, he'd shown himself to be fairly considerate. She realised she was still staring absent-mindedly at his thighs and was stroking it.