Your wife's blonde hair stretches down, where it's not done up in a tight bun. The real thing that always draws your attention towards it, like water being inextricably drawn into the drain, is her own eyes. There's a warmth to them that hasn't declined since she first confessed to you, back in high school. She doesn't even need to speak, really; just being across from you is enough to make her happy.

"You look so handsome today, Thomas," she tells you, an easy smile on her lips. "The curve of your chin…" She reaches out, fingertip brushing against bare skin, smiling as traces out your jaw. "I'm so lucky to have you." There's a way she speaks when it's to you, as if she's inches from letting out a sweet sigh of pleasure. Her hand reaches over to yours, clasping it, slipping fingers between your own in a tried and true motion that takes a finger's snap of time by this point.

"You look great yourself, Dany," you tell her, earning an increasing smile from her, the faintest blush. Her actual name is Danylynn (her parents…), but you call her Dany.

"I've been writing another poem for you… would you like to hear it?" Since she works long and irregular hours, it's something she's taken up doing - they aren't necessary at all to reassure you of her love, since she's such a sickening romantic, but you smile and nod anyway. "Oh, my sweet, wonderful Thomas / I fly in the sky, soar towards the heavens / but my thoughts are on the ground, of you… that's the start, at least," she explains. "Do you think it's good?"

"I think it's impossible for me to objectively evaluate a paean written to me, by you."

She smiles at that, adjusting in her seat. "It's hard for me to objectively evaluate you, too, but I'm writing a poem anyway…"

"It was wonderful, sweetheart," you reassure her.

There's a ringing noise, repetitive, even pointed, from her phone, and she lets out this agonized groan of unhappiness. "I'm so sorry, my love, I really ought to take this…"

"Go ahead, it's really no problem." You'd feel guilty for stopping her, given what her job is.

She puts the phone to her ear. "I'm with my darling husband right now, so it had better be important."

"The Xenostasis fields have been penetrated again. We estimate an incursion force of twelve Emyprean Manhunters will arrive within the hour, before the holes can be repaired."

"What?" Your wife looks shocked to hear it. "That's terrible news. I'll be there as quickly as I can manage." She hangs up, pausing for just a fraction of a second before gently cupping your chin with her free hand, the other squeezing yours tight. "I love you," she whispers, leaning forward and kissing you fiercely on the lips, her hot breaths tickling your mouth before she pulls back. "If I don't come home, know that I died loving you, my darling."

"You'll come back home. You always do. You're Earth's strongest hero, I know I have nothing to worry about."

She smiles at that. "You're always so optimistic."

A moment later, she's at the glass doors that oversee your balcony - you couldn't even see the transition there, and once she is there, it's only a handful of moments before the door slams open wide and she's jetting off into the sky, having gotten into her costume at some point.

To you, seeing her go, she's nothing but a streak of white and red, a bolt of lightning fired directly into the sky.

You know what she looks like, a beautiful woman wearing a costume that mixes white, gold, and blue, and a red cape that flutters in the wind behind her. You know what she fights like, too: as an intense, honorable, dutiful, and serenely perfect warrior, a defender of the innocent. You've loved her since before you knew her as Astra, and you can't say that knowing more about her has ever made you love her any less.

While she's out, a package is delivered to your pleasant suburban home. It's addressed to Astra, and you assume it's the new lingerie she purchased (with you, during the fun foreplay of browsing the internet for sexy underwear for her to wear), so you tear it open, planning to put it in an appropriate drawer.

Rather than a set of lacy, semitransparent underwear, you instead find a small stack of books, each individually quite thin. You pull the top one off the lot of them: The King's Word, and start reading the back cover.

Madelyn was just another student at her college, when she attracted the attention of Nathaniel King, the scion of an incredibly wealthy family. Little did she realize the true source of his family's wealth: the male line were all secretly psychics, and Nathaniel wants to make her his plaything. How much of her will be left by the time he's done with her?

You feel your cheeks flush at the text, putting the book down and pulling out the next. It's about… a superheroine who is captured and brainwashed by a supervillain into being his sidekick/bodyguard. The one after that is about a woman who moves to a small town and finds herself turning into a bimbo. The one after that is about a woman who has an alternate personality forcibly inserted by someone, that personality slowly working to eliminate the original by destroying her life and orgasming lots with her new master. The one after that is about a schoolteacher who is blackmailed and given hypnotic drugs by her young student, turned into his adoring slave.

If this is the sort of thing your wife likes, and not a misdelivery…

There is one thing you've always kept from her. You didn't want it to hang over your relationship. When the spacecraft that delivered an infant Danylynn Cook to Bridgetown, Idaho crashed, it brought with it something else. A still-unidentified form of radiation was smeared across the environment. Some animals began to behave strangely, or even mutate - there's more distinct species of deer around Bridgetown than there are anywhere else in the whole Midwest, and most of them are novel. It affected humans too. Some mutated visibly, some gained weird abilities, and a lot began to commit crimes…

Not you, though. You kept your ability under wraps, having only used it a little when you were a teen, and only on your mom, for really tiny things, before you gained the sense to realize what you were doing and stop.

See, you can control minds. Your wife's always believed it was fate that brought you two together, and you've just thought that was her romantic side, but if this is the sort of thing she likes… maybe there really was something more than mere happenstance involved. In any case, you start reading through the books to get more details.

* * *

"There were some books delivered here for you, while you were out," you say, when Dany appears back on the balcony, already starting to change into the clothes she left out there. She turns scarlet, pausing her movements as she glances up at you.

"Ah…"

"Were they a misdelivery?"

"I… would never lie to you, Thomas. They're mine. I'm sorry, it's not that I don't enjoy our sex life, it's just something that's always aroused me, and… I didn't want you to think less of me, realizing I was daydreaming about you erasing my personality. I'll throw them out, if you want."

"That's not why I asked. Come here," you say, gesturing to her, and she approaches, having pulled on a t-shirt and panties but not anything else before she stepped in. "Sit in my lap." She places herself down there, ass against your thigh. There's no sign of her overwhelming strength or durability, the power to juggle buildings and fly through space. Just the soft body of your wife, as your hand goes to settle on her thigh. "Is that just a fun fantasy, or is it something that you'd like to do in real life?"

"I would never do it in real life," she reassures you, grasping your hand in hers, squeezing tight. She smiles. "I would never let anyone else have that kind of power over me. Even when I read those fantasy stories, I try to imagine that you're cast in the role of the male lead. That you're the one slowly wiping me away and replacing me with someone new." She blushes faintly, ducking her head just a mite. You kiss her on the cheek.

"I have a secret I've kept from you all these years, because I didn't want you to think…" you trail off, then explain to her the reality. You can mind control people. You insert commands into their minds, and they feel compelled to obey them. The commands feel completely natural, like they weren't commands at all.

Rather than be shocked, angry, horrified, or paranoid, instead Dany begins to breathe more heavily, her cheeks growing flush as you explain things to her. With her on your lap, you can feel as her thighs wobble, a telltale sign that she's aroused, her knees absently knocking together. The wet sounds of her swallow seem to echo in the silence that exists in the room when you finish your story.

"I… that's incredibly… sexy…" she pants the words out, licking her lips. You've only ever seen her this fiercely aroused when you really went to great lengths - cunnilingus for an hour, orgasm denial with a bullet vibe for the better part of the day, that kind of thing. The fact that it's appeared so easily, from so little - maybe ten minutes of talking, total - has left you with quite the erection. "Can you do it to me now?"

"I can. What would you like me to do?"

"Whatever you want, as long as I can still do my work." She's practically salivating at this point, her eyes a little wild. "I trust you with everything that I am. Take away as much of it as you want, or as little… change me however it pleases you, my darling. I don't want to be the one making the decision - I want you to make it for me, without even asking."

You nod and decide to start small. It's been the better part of a decade since you last used your powers at all, and last time, it was to get your mom to leave you alone when she caught you looking at porn. There's also the possibility that the reality and her own fantasies will turn out to be in opposition. You reach for that faint sense you've almost forgotten was there, and start to feel out Dany's mind. It's a groping movement, vague and vain, taking a good few seconds before you finally manage to get a grip onto her thoughts. There's the weakest sensation of tension as you latch on to her, ready to start pushing your power into her.

It doesn't feel like your mother. There's no resistance whatsoever to your contact. With your mother, it was like pushing through something thin and elastic, having to use increasing force before the resistance finally snapped and you could finally put in whatever thought you wanted. When you push in the thought You want to give your husband a blowjob very badly, it's like poking a finger into water. Her will simply parts ways, letting you press your thoughts deep inside her and release them.

The whole process takes less than ten seconds. Her throat bobs as she swallows again, turning her gaze to you. She bites her lip. "Darling? You've been quiet so long… are you having trouble? You don't have to push yourself for my sake..."

"I already did it," you tell her.

"Ah? What did you do to me? Or is it a secret? It's fine if it's a secret." Her thighs start to wiggle again, that little, cute, repetitive motion that means she's aroused. Plenty of the girls in her mind control books had no idea what was going on at any particular moment, what their new fresh command was until they discovered it on her own.

"I'll give you a hint," you tell her, pressing your finger against her lower lip. It takes her a moment, then she smiles, suckling on your fingertip, her cheeks flush with color. There's a wild look in her eyes as she pulls her mouth off.

"You made me want to use my mouth to please you?" You just nod in reply to the question. "That's so sexy… I really didn't even realize you'd done it, I thought my mind was wandering. May I please take you in my mouth, my darling?"

"Please, feel free," you say, and she hops off your lap, descending to her knees quickly. She was never opposed to giving blowjobs, but she'd only do them of her own initiative if there was some special occasion or you were having trouble getting it up. This is the first time she's asked you if she could give one under just everyday circumstances. Her fingers diligently unzip your pants, pop your button, and slide your pants and underwear down around your ankles. She smolders as she looks up at you, her cheeks hot with arousal. Her tongue dances out of her mouth, running along her upper lip as she stares up at you.

Her mouth falls open a moment later, and she slurps you into her mouth, her lips stretched wide as her tongue dances along the underside of your length. Beautiful green-blue eyes stare up at you as she takes you to the base, her superhuman physiology making the movement smooth as your whole length is swallowed up inside her throat. Her nose presses into your pubes, smushing against it; her ass is faintly visible from this angle as her back arches, her shirt riding up to reveal the pink panties she's wearing, the lovely curve of her full hips and round ass.

She begins to suck, her cheeks hollowing, the force making you groan. Her tongue flicks up against the underside of your cock, her head twisting from side to side, making her butt jiggle with each movement. Her head twists and tilts, like a nodding movement, but your cock never leaves her mouth, so instead her throat winds up caressing and groping your dick as she does so. Your hands grip the armrests, fingers digging into them as you pant in response to her movements.

Her lips slide slowly up your length, leaving a trail of saliva that makes your cock glisten in the open air as she pulls back. A soft pop follows the last inch or so, and she takes some heavy breaths. Not from asphyxiation - she doesn't actually need to breathe - but from sheer arousal. With eyes that are boiling with lust and love, she looks up at you, her mouth starting to move to speak for a second or so before sound comes out. "Do you want me to do anything more than I have?" She swallows, awkwardly shifting on her knees, and you realize that she's probably very pent up at the moment, given how aroused she was just from hearing you talk, and she's asking-without-asking if she can touch herself.

You wouldn't really describe her as normally submissive in the bedroom. Sure, if you're doing some denial play or toys or something, she'll go along with it, but mostly she's just a loving, giving partner who wants to make her husband feel good. Masturbating on either of your parts isn't really necessary with your sex life (except the couple of times she's been off-Earth for more than a day or two), but you're pretty sure she wouldn't ask for permission even if it was. Not normally, at least.

"You can play with yourself while you suck me off, if you want."

She smiles at that, the expression one of relief, and opens her mouth again, slurping you down into her throat in a moment and starting to bob up and down your cock. As she does, one hand reaches into her panties, and you can hear the first, wet noise of her slipping her fingers inside - it feels louder than it is, because you realize then that you've literally never seen her masturbate in all your years together. Maybe touch herself while you're having sex, but this is the first time she's the only one stimulating herself, and she faintly moans around your cock as pleasure courses through her, sending sweet vibrations into your length.

Her cheeks are warm, her eyelashes fluttering, and you can recognize it all as signs of her own orgasm approaching. Her pace quickens on your dick, wet noises emanating from her mouth as she bobs up and down. The occasional splish of her saliva splatters onto your thighs, balls, or cock, a consequence both of the way her mouth is beginning to fill with saliva, giving your cock a warm bath, and the sheer intensity and speed at which she's moving, her lips occasionally releasing their suction for just long enough for a thin jet of spit to splash out of her mouth in just the lewdest way.

She comes first, moaning and pressing her head into your groin. As her eyes roll around faintly, she twists her head from side to side, her hips bucking at empty air. It feels like it goes on forever, the longest orgasm she's ever had with you. The only thing that keeps you from coming as her body convulses beneath you, her tongue flicking and bouncing inside her mouth, is the fact that she's otherwise stopped moving, just holding your length inside her throat.

When her orgasm ends, though, she peels back, until her lips make a perfect seal with the ridge of your cock. Her eyes burn with uninhibited lust, her hand coming up to stroke your cock rapidly, pumping up and down your length as she stares into your eyes, her cheeks hollowing as she just sucks. It feels intense, and it takes maybe ten seconds before you start spraying out your cum all over the inside of her mouth. Her tongue laps at your tip as your semen mixes together with her own saliva in her mouth - when you're finished coming, she pulls back, holding her mouth open to present to you her work, your cum drifting about inside her mouth atop the pool of saliva.

Then she swallows. "That was wonderful, darling," she says, her fingers soothingly running along your thigh as she remains kneeling before you. "Even if that's all we ever do, I'll be happy."

Despite her lovey-dovey way of putting it, you know what she really means: she wants more than just an order to give you a blowjob. You think back to the contents of her books as you decide what to do.

The only real consistency you saw in her taste is the mind control itself, not the end result. Sometimes the girl becomes a bimbo, other times she becomes a slave, or a slut, or something else entirely.

Well, no, there's more to it than just that. The closest any of the men get to asking for their victim's preferences is to ask her what she doesn't like, then make her enjoy it, or make her do it while still not liking it. There's no loving or positive element to any of the mind control, no improving her concentration so she can get a promotion or anything like that. It's also more about a general thing than a single event, more "you now love blowjobs" than "you feel the urge to give you a blowjob." The latter happens, but more as foreplay than anything else.

Thinking it over, there is a sharp, intense note to the end results displayed. It's cruel, degrading, humiliating, sadistic. In pretty much every case, the girl winds up basically unrecognizable in terms of personality and behavior… what remains being more a vestige on some other, very different person. Your cock twitches as you remember the scene where the brainwashed superheroine doesn't even recognize her birth name any longer, and Dany hums, her eyes perking up as she looks at you and your cock, wondering if you've done anything to her yet, and that's why you're getting hard.

"I'm still thinking," you tell her, soothingly brushing your fingers through her hair, and she rests her cheek against your thigh.

"You can take as long as you like, my love. I've spent three years of courtship and six years of marriage, happy with you. I'll still be happy if we never do anything like this again." She smiles gently, warmth exuding from every curve of her face as she rests down there.

She really will be, you know that. But, you want to do something nice for your wife.

You stretch your will down into her mind again, pressing through the virtually nonexistent resistance to implant something new, something a bit more complicated than what you've done in the past. Something more long term and complicated. It's a bit more effort, more to fit all the thinking together into a nice little package that you can put inside, but it's not that long either. You cannot come without your husband's permission. There's a bit more to it than just the words, of course - the subtle meaning is also imbued, making it clear that "cannot" is literal, not figurative, that if she no longer has a husband (say, because you die), the command will no longer apply, and so forth. But that's what you press into her mind.

She stares up at you from between your legs, softly resting her cheek against your thigh, her expression adoring. She can tell that you're doing, or have done, something, but she has no idea what. You start to brush your fingers through her hair again, now that your focus is back on reality. This time, she doesn't ask for what you've done to her, just patiently waiting for you to tell her, or not.

Your cock is hard again, naturally. Your wife has always been affectionate, but the new tinge of effusive submissiveness is fun and sexy. "Let's go to the bedroom," you tell her, and she moves out from between your thighs almost instantly, using her flight to do so as quickly as possible, making her look like a character in a video game suddenly snapping into proper position, feet settling down on the ground once more a moment later.

"I feel so very aroused right now," she breathes out, as you pull up your pants. She licks her lips, staring into your eyes. "Is that what you've done? Made me horny?"

"No, that's all you," you tell her, reaching for her hand and squeezing, jerking your head as you pull her along with you to your bedroom. She follows after you, cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild, and they wander your body, utterly enraptured, as you peel off your clothes.

You may be playing the role of househusband in your marriage, but you've very purposefully avoided ever becoming complacent in your exercise, swimming two or three hours a day to keep up a slender, muscular physique that Dany absolutely loves. In this moment, though, her wandering eyes have a whole new tone, not just lust for your body, but something more awed and intellectual, as if she was studying a holy text. "Take off your clothes," you say, once you're naked.

"Yes, darling," she says, her cheeks flush with color as she realizes that she was brainlessly staring at you. She pulls off the t-shirt, leaving her in just a bra and panties - soon even those are gone, leaving that gorgeous naked body of hers on full display. You step towards her, your erect cock brushing against her stomach, a certain inhalation of breath telling you of her arousal as her breasts push into your chest as you grow closer and closer. "Ah... are you going to tell me what you did, my love? It's alright if you don't. If I don't even realize it, even though it should be obvious." There's a certain acceleration to her breath at that idea, and you file it away.

You nibble on her earlobe, groping her ass cheek and squeezing the supple flesh, letting your fingers sink deep into it as you pull her close to you. She shivers at your touch. Just knowing that you're mind controlling her, even if she doesn't know how, has her behaving in this incredibly submissive manner, and it's making you throb, your cock repeatedly twitching in the space between your stomachs, threatening to explode at any moment. Finally, you remove your lips from her ear to speak, a whispered voice in her ear. "I made it so you can't come without me giving you permission."

Immediately, her cheeks flush an even brighter color, her eyes widening with surprise that seems to linger longer than it really ought. Her thighs wobble gently beneath her, as if she was drunk on just your words alone, and you shift your lips to hers, kissing her sharply on the mouth.

You're just about strong enough to lift her and angle her over to the bed, but she does the same thing she always does whenever you try hefting her around: uses her flight to make herself effectively weightless, letting you push her around like she was a balloon floating in the air. You soon have her on her back on the bed, placing your cock in her slick sex. You know her body well, so you place one thumb up against her clit, your fingers brushing through her pale blonde pubic hair in the process, while the other hand hefts up her breast, your lips leaning down to suckle on her perky nipple. She sighs softly at the sensation, but she doesn't ask to come, not yet.

Your movements are slow rather than fast, focusing entirely on exactly the things you know she likes. Soft strokes deep inside, then wiggling and rotating your hips, making your cock twist about and rub against her. Her hips gently twist from side to side, a certain lewd heat to her cheeks.

It's strange. Normally, making love like this can feel... not quite like a chore, but like planning out a date. Something fun, sure, but because of the response it provokes in your wife, because of the anticipation of making her happy. That's lessened here - you're pretty sure you could do this for hours and she wouldn't come once, unless your power just doesn't work any more - yet your desire to do it has only increased, your arousal intensified by the simple reality that you're in complete control of her orgasms at the moment.

Your teeth gently start to nibble at her nipple, teasing it, and she moans softly, one hand sliding down her stomach, joining your thumb in teasing and playing with her clit. Her fingertips gently roll around her clit, her breath becoming more and more excited the longer that you keep going like this. You feel the tension in her body as she approaches orgasm in this position, the way her thighs vibrate, her sex clamping down on you, but the actual orgasm doesn't come. The tension goes on for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds, her body twitching in the manner one does when one can feel an orgasm approach and are trying to push oneself just up past the finish line - but she doesn't come.

As she collapses onto the bed, panting with the momentary exertion and need of that moment left unfulfilled, she lets out a soft moan. "Ah... I really can't come..." she says, clearly deeply aroused by that fact. You can see the pink color of her cheeks dripping down her neck, staining the tops of her breasts as you keep sucking one, just staring up at her challengingly, daring her to just ask for an orgasm. She resists, biting her lower lip, her hand getting more intense in its movements around her clit, her legs locking around your hips. Her other hand gropes her free tit, the one you aren't currently sucking on.

It's only a minute or so before she almost comes again like that, her whole body tensing up, legs locking around your hips and holding you deep inside her, as she gently grinds against you. Hot pants escape her throat, at the desire without relief that rushes through her body. When she finally collapses down onto her back on the bed, she's got a wild look in her eyes, not looking at you but at the ceiling, now.

Her hands' movements shift, her legs locked around your hips no longer serving to slow or hold you. Now her fingers are almost frantic, pinching at her clit with intensity; the hand groping her breast squeezes roughly, soft flesh spilling out between each fingers right to your side. You keep going with your own methodical, slow, measured pace, having learned exactly what she likes normally, even if now she's almost desperate to get herself off. Her legs start to pump herself on your cock, thrusting up and down an inch or two, an awkward but desperate movement.

She's rough with her body, fingers simply digging into whatever they can find, pinching and tweaking and twisting, hot pants escaping her throat but no orgasm coming. You can tell that she's getting off in her own way, not in the literal sense, but on the repeated reinforcement in her mind of the fact that she simply can't come like this. It takes her no less than five failed orgasms, five desperate, clawing attempts, five bucks of the hips and whines of the throat, for her to finally say the words you've been waiting to hear. "Ahh... please let me come, my love, please," she whines softly.

You pull your lips away from her breast, starting to pump her more forcefully, enjoying the sight of her tits bouncing and jiggling softly from each thrust. Her whole body seems to undulate beneath you on the bed, hot pants escaping her throat as she stares up at you with needy eyes, silently pleading for your permission. You can feel her tense up as another orgasm approaches, but you just stare down at her, stone-faced, as if to say that she wasn't going to get to come.

That doesn't seem to bother her in the least. If anything, she gets more excited, both hands on her tits, now, squeezing and molesting them as you continue to gently tease and toy with her clit. Her breaths are hot, wet, accompanied by intermittent swallows of desperate need, but she just whines as she feels herself draw closer and closer to yet another failed orgasm. When it starts - when you feel her body tense up, her eyes clenching shut, her face screwed up in desperation to finally come - you speak. "Come for me," you command.

Immediately, she does. She cries out in ecstasy, loud enough that you worry the neighbors might hear, a sharp scream of pleasure that may just tingle a bit into the dangerously supersonic. She clamps down on you, legs dragging you deep inside her, and her inner muscles work you with the same intensity of a fierce handjob, squeezing and gripping and trying their level best to wring an orgasm out of your cock. Given that this is your wife - the most beautiful woman in the world, the woman you love, and a powerful superheroine - her body inevitably succeeds, making you groan as you let go inside her, a long, soft breath escaping your throat as every last droplet of cum gets wrung out of your dick.

When you're spent, you pull out. For all that you were the one doing all the work, she's the one panting and gasping on the bed. She's not sweating - you've never seen her sweat, not outside of a video of her fighting on alien worlds or in volcanoes - but it's obvious that she's mentally completely fried by that experience. You check your watch, and let out a small snort. For all that felt like forever, it only lasted maybe thirty minutes total. "That was good," you tell her, stroking her cheek. "You liked it, didn't you?"

She nods, swallowing. Not quite ready to speak back to you yet, so you cuddle instead, pulling her against you. She doesn't use her powers to make herself lighter, just letting you drag her into your arms. She pants for several minutes before she's recovered enough to talk. "That was... the most intense orgasm... of my life," she breathes out. "Even more... than our fifth anniversary."

You remember what the two of you did that day rather clearly: you'd attached a bullet vibe to her clit, and used a remote to turn it up and down continuously for the better part of six hours before you finally just fucked her. That orgasm had been incredibly intense, and now she's saying this one was even better, while taking much less time to manage. "Do you want to do this again, then?"

"Yes..." she trails off, hesitating for a moment, "and more, too, darling."

"More like what?" You prompt.

"Whatever you want," she says, a sigh accompanying the words, not of exasperation but of intense desire for you to simply play with her head however you please. It makes your cock twitch against her butt. "If you want to keep going, don't hesitate on my account, my love. I'd be happy to bring you to the heights of pleasure for a third time today."

You consider for a moment, enjoying the soft feeling of her body against yours. The only problem, really, is that sex can be tiring when you're on top and you go for half an hour, so... "You'll ride me this time," you tell her, as you let go of her body and roll onto your back. She immediately moves, using her flight to float herself above you, teasing your cockhead at her sex. The flush to her cheeks seems not to have gone down at all, her eyes smoldering with lust, even if her own strength is somewhat limited at the moment. Her flight ability uses a completely different, seemingly endless well of power, so she easily slides down your length no matter how her hands may dangle at her sides.

You bring her off three times in that position, just giving her permission to come each time she seems to draw close. Just the fact of your power over her still makes them intense orgasms, just not quite as mind-numbingly intense as the one that she had the first time.