Eternal Ecstasy: The Witch's Orgasmic Spell

[A pleasure witch is fucking and cumming on a nice thick cock. The guy she's fucking is very submissive and dreams of being milked forever as a pleasure tool for women. The witch offers to let him experience her orgasm with a spell and trap him in a permanent state of constant orgasm]

The air was thick with incense and the musk of sweat-slicked skin, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the pleasure witch’s naked body as she straddled him. His cock throbbed beneath her, thick and eager, already leaking under her slow, torturous grind. “You *want* this, don’t you?” she murmured, fingertips tracing the edge of his jaw. Her voice was velvet and smoke. “To be nothing but a toy. To feel *everything*.” He whimpered, arching beneath her as her hips rolled in a smooth, practiced motion. Every drag of her cunt along his length drew another helpless gasp from him. She smirked, lifting herself just enough to tease the swollen head before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt with a low moan. “I could let you feel heaven,” she breathed, nails digging into his chest. “A spell. My pleasure, inside you—constant, unending. No rest. Just *this*.” She clenched around him, watching his eyes roll back. His voice cracked. “Please.” Her laugh was dark with promise. “Good boy.”

Her fingers splayed across his chest, her magic humming beneath her touch like a live wire. The air crackled—sharp, electric—as she whispered words that twisted like smoke between them. His body arched violently as the spell took hold, his cock pulsing inside her, his veins alight with pure, radiant pleasure. She didn’t stop moving, didn’t let him adjust. Her cunt milked him ruthlessly, every ripple of her walls syncing with the relentless waves of ecstasy flooding his senses. His mouth fell open in a silent scream—no air left, no thought, just the white-hot crush of her orgasm magnified, mirrored, *endless*. “Mine,” she purred, grinding down harder, watching his muscles lock, his fingers clawing at the sheets. Tears streaked his cheeks, but his cock never softened, never stopped twitching inside her. The spell bound them—her pleasure his prison, his body her altar. And when she came again, shuddering, he sobbed with her, lost in the storm.

His mind shattered—no words, no edges, just the molten rush of sensation, deeper than nerve endings, deeper than bone. *Too much*—but the thought dissolved before it could form, replaced by the unrelenting pulse of her cunt, the way her magic slithered into every vein, rewiring him to crave, to *need*. He could feel her smirk in the way her walls clenched—*you think this is pleasure?*—before the spell wrenched him higher, his orgasm yanked taut like a bowstring, never snapping, never easing. *Fuck fuck fuck—* Overload crackled at the edges of his vision, but she dragged him back each time, whispering against his sweat-slicked skin: "*More.*" And his body obeyed. His hips jerked up, desperate, though she controlled the rhythm, the depth, the *punishment.* Every thrust wrung another broken noise from his throat. *Can’t—* *Don’t stop—* The contradiction unraveled him. He was nothing but a live wire, sparking where she touched, where she *owned*. Her laughter curled in his ear, wicked and victorious. "You’ll take it. *Forever*." And God, he would.

His vision tunneled—nothing but her, the molten heat of her thighs bracketing his hips, the cruel drag of her nails down his chest, marking him in slow, deliberate strokes. His cock throbbed, oversensitive and yet still hard, still *hers*, wrenched into a pleasure so brutal it bordered on agony. The spell tightened its grip; every nerve flayed open, every pulse of her magic forcing him deeper into the white noise of ecstasy. She leaned in, teeth grazing his jaw. "Beg." A whimper escaped him—raw, untethered. He barely recognized his own voice. "P-please—" "Louder." Her hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back. "*Please!*" The word tore free, jagged and desperate. Her hips snapped down, ruthless, and his back arched off the bed. The orgasm he’d been teetering on finally *snapped*—but it wasn’t release. Just another wave, another vicious crest, her magic ensuring he felt every twitch, every spasm, as she rode him through it without mercy. "Good boy," she murmured, thumb pressing against his parted lips. "Now do it again."

[She opens the floor gates where his cock cums over and over without stopping, as he moaned in ecstasy and agony]

Her fingers traced a sigil low on his abdomen—the final lock undone. His cock jerked violently as the floodgates tore open, cum pulsing out in relentless waves, no pause, no relief. His thighs trembled, muscles locked tight as each spurt ripped through him, the pleasure so sharp it burned. She watched, rapt, as his body betrayed him—twisting against the sheets, his moans pitching higher, broken. "Look at you," she crooned, dragging a fingertip through the mess on his stomach. "Dripping without permission. *Pathetic.*" His hips stuttered, still fucking the air, still *needing*, even as his cock wept under the unending tide. Every nerve screamed—she'd rewired him to feel each throb, each helpless jet of release as if it were the first. "P-please—" he sobbed, fingers clawing at the sheets. She gripped his jaw, forcing his gaze to hers. "*More.*" Another crest hit, his body bowing off the bed. She laughed as he came again. And again.

*It won’t stop—* The thought splintered in his skull, drowned beneath the tidal roar of sensation. His cock pulsed ceaselessly, spilling over his stomach, her thighs, the sheets—hot and slick and *too much*, but the pleasure didn’t ebb. It *multiplied*, her magic carving deeper, turning every nerve into a live wire. *She broke me.* The realization was a distant, fractured thing. His hips jerked without his permission, still thrusting into the empty air, still hungry. His body wasn’t his anymore—just a vessel for her will, each orgasm a fresh brand, another layer of her possession seared into his bones. Her fingers curled around his length, squeezing just shy of pain. "You’d keep coming if I told you to, wouldn’t you?" A whimper. A nod. "*Say it.*" "—Y-yes—" His voice was gutted, wrecked. "*Anything.*" She stroked him slowly, thumb smearing the slick mess at his tip, and his vision whited out again. *No, no, not again—* But his body didn’t listen, convulsing as another flood tore free. Her smirk was the last thing he saw before the next wave dragged him under.

She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Good boy.” The praise was molten, dripping into him like poison—sweet and ruinous. His cock twitched in protest, but another thick pulse of cum spilled over her fingers anyway, his body too shattered to resist. His throat was raw from begging, but she didn’t care. Not when his thighs were still shuddering, not when his abs were glazed and sticky with his own wreckage. She pressed her palm flat against his stomach, feeling the next wave build beneath his skin before it hit—hot, brutal, endless. "Pathetic," she whispered again, but her voice was thick with something darker now. *Hunger.* She rode out his convulsions, fingers tight around his base, counting each ragged spurt. "*More.*" He screamed. And came. Again.