O-note

This is based on a tweet by @MindEmilys on twitter, about a death note, but for orgasms. Forced orgasm, to the extreme.

* * *

It had started when your partner found that book. Each day, they’d delight in writing the pleasures that you would get to feel, and each day, no matter how improbable, it would happen.

Sometimes, there would be another person involved. They’d appear, give you the pleasure or torment that was in the book, and then they would leave. You wouldn’t ever be able to find them afterwards. They never told you anything about themselves.

But they always knew exactly how to make you feel so very good. All the best places to be touched to extract the pleasure your partner wanted. Never the same person, but all exquisitely beautiful, agonisingly perfect in the way they pleasured you.

It could be you in your office, alone. From nowhere they’d appear, and your own body would rebel against you to make the words in the book real. Moving instinctively, stripping, bending, kneeling, doing anything that was needed to get itself off.

Maybe the person walking past you on the street would beckon you towards a back alley, where they’d make you feel all manners of pleasure, as the cars rumbled past, just metres away. A hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as you tried desperately to moan.

Or, and these were the ones you found the most exhilarating, you’d find yourself kneeling before your partner, and begging them to make you cum. And with a single snap of their fingers, you would. A firm reminder of the ability of the book to make their writings come true.

But it wasn’t always other people. It could be that you’d be changing, and something would brush against your sex. Suddenly you’d find yourself thrusting and grinding, a desperate need to get off possessing you, until you finally came, then, and there.

The strangest, but still not unpleasant, experiences were the instantaneous orgasms. The way they would just hit you. A sudden rush of pleasure and endorphins, a tightness in your core, that spread through your whole body, and then it would hit you.

And, at the end of every day, mind blank from all the pleasure, you’d go to them, and tell them exactly what happened with each of your orgasms. How good they felt, what was good, what wasn’t so good. And they’d take note, and make it even better the next day.