They often enjoyed a drink before bed, especially when they weren't planning to go directly to sleep. She was already naked, anticipating what he had planned for later. She had always had a strong sex-drive and eagerly looked forward to these special evenings together with him, throughout the entire day.
Tonight, for some reason, he had only poured one glass of wine.
"You see this wine glass, baby?", he asked sweetly, setting it down in front of her carefully. "I added a little something extra to it. Care to guess the special ingredient?"
She reached for the glass.
"Ah, ah, ah," he said. "Put it down, for now. You should know before you drink."
She set the glass back down. "Know?"
"Remember how I told you about the experimental drug my company was working on? The one that failed the clinical trials because of the unanticipated side-effects in women? How it simultaneously prevented orgasms while dramatically increasing libido, resulting in some very, very frustrated women?"
"Yes. I remember." In fact, she remembered vividly. It had become her favorite masturbation fantasy. She had climaxed over and over imagining herself as one of those women, no longer able to enjoy such a climax. She already had such a powerful sex-drive, how much more effective would it be on her than some random women?
She stared at the glass, mesmerized, connecting the dots. Her fantasy had just entered the realm of reality.
"I know how much the thought of being one of those women turns you on," he said, gesturing to the wine glass. "So, I managed to get a hold of a dose, and mixed into your wine. All you have to do is drink, and you can say goodbye to your orgasms for good. Even now, two years later none of those women have managed to come. Only drink if you're sure."
"For real?" She asked, transfixed by the crimson liquid.
"For real," he said.
"And I'll stay horny, too? That doesn't wear off either? What if I feel, just, nothing and get bored, you know? It's the two effects, together. How you described those women..."
"Oh, yes," he said. "I told you, after about six months they were so desperate to get off, they had to be restrained to keep from masturbating, or rather trying to masturbate so vigorously they would rub their own skin off. Even then, they would try to hump the furniture. It not only doesn't wear off, it intensifies with time. The arousal never stops building. The, er, test subjects continued to become increasingly desperate and agitated every month after they were subjected to the drug. Most of them are being treated, and by treated I mean restrained, and in some cases sedated, at home by their partners. However, there were some of the participants in the trial who were single, and they all had to be sent to mental institution where they'll likely spend the rest of their lives."
Her heart beat faster, and her imagination ran wild. That could be her. It would be her, if she drank. She touched the stem of the glass and swirled the liquid in it around a few times. She leaned her bare body over the table and gazed at an angle into the glass and the potent elixir it contained.
When she said nothing he went on. "Evidently, these women are so desperate for sex, they're even desperate to experience it vicariously. I'm told that whenever they can give their partner an orgasm with a blowjob or a handjob or even anal sex, it helps to calm them down a bit, to the point where they can function for a few hours. Getting it in the pussy, though, tends to overstimulate them and make the frustration worse. Don’t worry, I love blowjobs, as I'm sure you know. That, and, I already have several pairs of cuffs upstairs to make sure you don't hurt yourself, when the time comes. If you drink, you'll be well cared for."
Her breathing quickened further, and she ran a finger over her naked body, down between her legs. Her body, her sexuality, her orgasms were such an enormous part of who she was. To lose her orgasms was terrifying, but at the same time there was no bigger turn-on for her. She fantasized about being trapped there, on the brink, at the height of sexual pleasure but unable to finish. Forever.
She imagined her entire world, her entire life narrowing down to the desperate, insatiable need to pleasure her sopping wet pussy. And yet, it would be a need that could never be met. Every moment, every thought would be consumed by erotic desperation.
She would hate it. Nevertheless, part of her wanted it. Craved it.
She reached for the glass, then pulled her arm back again. It was such a hot fantasy, but she had a life. She would lose the life that she knew. She couldn't really do it for real, could she?
"It's exactly what I've always wanted," she told him. "It's my biggest fantasy. But.. but. It's still a fantasy. I.. I don't think it would be a good idea."
"I see," he said. "But that's not quite true. This isn't quite what you said you wanted. Do you remember what you told me your fantasy was?"
"This?" She said holding up the wine glass. "I'm pretty sure it's this. I should know."
He smiled, that beautiful, dazzling charming smile of his. "Ah. I believe your exact words were that you kept fantasizing about being forcibly injected with the drug I mentioned. Isn't that right?"
She shrugged. "Okay, it's a drink, not a needle. Same thing."
He shook his head slowly and leaned down over her. He picked up the wine glass, pinning her hands with one arm and pushing the wine glass towards her lips with the other. "That's not what I meant. You said forcibly, and that’s what you’re going to get. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I'm going to let you decline this remarkable opportunity. So, drink up. Now."
"But, but... you?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Earlier, you said I should know. Weren't you giving me a choice?"
"Oh, baby, no," he said as she. "You never had a choice. You see, I’ve been thinking about this almost as much as you have. This is what I want for you. I want to watch you melt before my eyes. I want to take in every twitch and spasm and cry of frustration as you struggle, and fail, to remain in control. I just needed you to know what was happening first. How else would you be able to enjoy your own fantasy?"
He tipped the wine glass higher, and she felt the sweet red wine trickle down her lips, over her tongue and down her throat. There was a slight sour tang to it, not enough to ruin the taste of the wine, but enough to let her know he had been telling the truth about adding something to the drink.
She could have fought, tried to spill the wine, but she didn’t. She was his, this was what he wanted, and he was insistent. And, maybe, deep down, it was what she wanted too, even if she was terrified. Maybe she needed it, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted it.
"Good girl," he said as he released her hands and set down the empty wine grass.
She breathed a sigh. It was done. The orgasm she’d had with him the previous night was the last orgasm she’d ever have.
He sat down behind her and expertly ran his strong hands over her back, her breasts, her sides, and her thighs as he gently kissed her neck. A warm tingle flowed through her, stronger than anything that could be attributed to mere alcohol. She knew that familiar tingle for what it was, that erotic pull that was centered between her legs. She also knew that it would never go away.
Instead, that seductive sensation would grow to envelop her universe, forever.
She lay back in his arms and let the fantasy wash over her.