[Marcus]
There was a letter waiting for me when I got home. A letter from my Uncle Nick, who'd been ashes for over a month. Clearly it had been sent - recently - to my parents' house and then forwarded to me. I phoned home. "Oh," my mum said. "The new tenants found it. What does it say?"
"I'll let you know," I promised, though already I suspected it would be something about the watch. An explanation. A confession. Something. Something I'd never dare tell a soul.
I was right.
Dear Marcus,
I am leaving you my most valuable possession, a watch whose power over time makes it priceless. Keep it safe and keep it secret.
If you have not done so already, pop the crown and time will stop - or slow down to such an extreme that light itself, that universal constant, seems tardy. There is much that can be achieved in a single moment of frozen time, but the watch's gifts go far beyond this. I have had decades to experiment and learn its uses, and I wish to pass on what I have learned.
First, in frozen time, the human mind is susceptible to suggestion, though some are more resistant than others. Be subtle. Better to nudge and reinforce with repetition. A mind once manipulated will move more easily thereafter, and in time become quite malleable. But do too much too soon and the mind may break. Our unconscious desire for pleasure is a powerful ally against inhibition.
Second, most appropriately, is the ability to step forwards one second at a time. To do this, you must focus on the second hand and imagine it moving, while applying just the right amount of twist on the crown. I can describe it no better, but trust me that it can be done.
Third, and most remarkably, if you touch your forehead to another's, you can follow them through time, both past and present. In fact, it is possible to see multiple pasts and futures all superimposed like a nexus in a quantum many-worlds universe; and since numbers of realities increase exponentially, it is seldom possible to see more than a few hours ahead or behind, and never more than twelve.
There is so much I wish I could share with you, but I am certain you will discover much for yourself. I hope you will spare a thought for me as you learn to master time.
Nicholas
I had expected perversion and lechery, not physics and revelation. The old man who had bought me presents, lusted after my mother and collected ladies' underwear (no doubt while it was still being worn) was revealed to have an insightful mind. I had used the watch's power for a day now and had used it only for sex and mischief. My dodgy Uncle Nick had used it to analyse the nature of space and time.
It hadn't occurred to me that the watch had other powers. Would I ever have figured these out for myself? I felt a deep rush of gratitude and respect for my uncle, and a sadness that we couldn't be together as we used and abused time itself.
It had been a long day, and I was tired. Too tired, even for more sex, though my cock stirred to life whenever I remembered Keira's sweet submission. In the privacy of my room, I munched on a ham and cheese sandwich as I focused my mind on the watch's second hand in frozen time and attempted to move it forward telekinetically. Were it not that I desperately wanted it to be true, what my Uncle Nick had written, I would have abandoned it as a fiction, but at last I succeeded.
The effort took the last of my strength. Fatigued, I stripped and crawled naked into bed, and surrendered swiftly to sleep. Nothing short of the end of the world could have awoken me.
[Keira]
I don't know what is worse: being raped in the blink of an eye by someone with the power to stop time; or willingly embracing that same degradation? Hours later, I still don't have an answer. I walked the three miles home dressed like a stripper in five inch heels and a too short skirt, dreading that someone might recognise me. The taste of my abuser in my mouth, the smell of him on my breasts, his cum leaking from my tender ass. The memory of fucking myself on the dildo for his amusement - and for my own desperate need.
He treated me like a sex object, a doll to be dressed up and fucked, toyed with and tormented, and instead of hating him and denying him, I ended up wanting him to do more, as if the humiliation of having to walk home, feeling dirty inside and out, was not punishment enough. Blessedly, there was no one home, my mother at work, my brother too, no one to see me dressed like a whore and stinking of sex. No one to question why I spent an hour in the shower, cleansing my outside while the events of the day played again and again in my head.
Afterwards, physically exhausted and mentally drained, I crawled into bed and surrendered to oblivion. But even that was no escape. He was in my dreams too, unseen and demanding, his hard cock driving deep into my ass and I didn't know whether I was begging him to stop or to continue.
And now it's midnight and I'm wide awake and burning with shame at the cause of my arousal. How can I pretend that I was raped when I am lying in bed wishing to be taken again against my will? My knickers are soaked with the evidence of this amoral craving, my fingers circling my swollen clit restlessly but ineffectually. Right now I need a hard cock in me, one that treats me savagely, caring only about its own pleasure.
By the time I finally achieve orgasm, my sluttish cum-dumpster fantasies have me feeling dirty again, and restless hours pass before sleep finds me again.
[Marcus]
It was nine in the morning when I awoke. Fortunately I had no lectures until the afternoon. I had missed two the previous day because of my adventures, and it would look bad on the attendance record to miss more.
I awoke horny with a morning glory - and an aching bladder that demanded immediate release. I stumbled through to the bathroom, and managed to pee despite having an erection. Afterwards I was still hard and horny, and reluctant to waste it with solitary masturbation. Especially since I was eager to test out my watch's other powers.
And someone was in the kitchen. I peeked. Jacob and his girlfriend Patricia, whose breasts I'd felt up while she and Jacob fucked. They were drinking tea and scrolling through social media. Jacob was in boxers and T-shirt, and Patricia was wearing another of his T-shirts, several sizes too big for her. For all I knew, there was nothing on underneath.
Except I could know. I stopped time and took a look. A pink thong. Nice. Her pussy smelled gorgeous. "You want to wrap your lips about a hard cock," I whispered in her ear. "Here, in the kitchen. That someone might wander in while you're sucking Jacob's cock only makes the idea more exciting."
I whispered similar ideas in Jacob's ear, then retreated to the hallway to spy on them. As soon as I started time, they looked up at each other, then furtively glanced towards the kitchen door, then back at each other. I watched through the crack between door and frame as she pressed her hand against the growing bulge in his boxers.
There was no doubt in my mind that they were responding to my suggestions. The sudden rush of power this gave me had my own cock throbbing almost painfully within my briefs. I watched as Patricia knelt, pushed Jacob's boxers down to reveal his hardening cock, and engulfed it hungrily. But my view was limited.
Stopping time again, with Patricia's lips stretched wide by Jacob's girth, I whispered in their ears about how much better it would be to be completely naked, and how thrilling it would be to have an actual audience. I took the opportunity to caress Patricia's breasts once again, rubbing and pinching her nipples through the material of the shirt.
Retreating again, I spied as she continued her lusty blowjob, removing her T-shirt with barely any interruption, Jacob discarding his quickly too. Kneeling as she was, it took a great deal of shuffling to manoeuvre her thong down her legs to her feet, but that only made the show more exciting. She was deep-throating him with impressive skill, and I hoped he wouldn't come before I was ready.
Their shock as I walked into the kitchen was almost enough to make me scurry away in embarrassment, but I managed to quell the instinct. "Don't mind me," I said, and circled around them to the kettle. They watched me uncertainly as I did so, looking as embarrassed as no doubt I did, but then Jacob grabbed Patricia's head and guided her mouth back to his cock, giving me a sly grin as he did so.
The kettle boiled and I poured water into a mug with a tea bag, and extracted my own needful cock as I watched my private sex show. I stopped time. I wanted to see how far I could push them. "Being called a whore turns you on and makes you want to behave like one," I told her. "Call her a whore," I told him, "and treat her like one. When you come, give her a facial, and order her to help Marcus."
Jacob tightened his grip on Patricia's head, coiling his fingers through her pink hair, and began fucking her mouth. "I didn't know what a whore you were," he growled, "but I love it."
Patricia's initial shock at the rough treatment gave way to a lustful delight. Her left hand grabbed at her breasts, mauling them, pinching lewdly at her nipples, while her right hand buried itself between her thighs, two fingers thrusting within as her thumb worked her clit. She moaned loudly when she was able to breathe at all, and saliva dripped messily from her chin.
Jacob's breathing grew increasingly laboured. He was close. Abruptly he pushed Patricia away from him, and aimed his cock at her face. A stream of cum burst out, painting her cheek, followed by a second and a third. She opened her mouth to catch what she could, then lifted her breasts to catch the last few feeble spurts of cum.
"Now suck mine, you beautiful whore," I said. I was so excited I knew I wouldn't last long.
Patricia stared across at my cock, desire warring with confusion. She glanced up uncertainly at her boyfriend. "Go help Marcus, whore," he said with clear affection. Winking at me, he added, "First time's free, but in future it'll be twenty quid, okay?"
