Masochism hurts

"You hurt me, James. I'm going to make sure that you hurt yourself even worse."

James rolled his eyes at that. He might not have been as polite as possible, but it's not like he really hurt her. Or like she could really hurt him back.

"You're now a masochist. In fact, that's your entire sexual identity. You won't get sexual pleasure from anything except pain and embarrassment from now on."

James actually laughed at that. Just how deluded was Rebecca, thinking that just because she said a few words James would suddenly be aroused by pain? 'Oh, ooga-booga, now you want to be spanked,' James thought to himself, mocking the so-called witch in his head. 'You get hot at the thought of someone stepping on your foot. You want to feel a hammer smacking your fingers, crushing them. You'll fantasize about getting burned accidentally touching a hot pot on the stove. You'll find your hand moving to stroke yourself as you think about someone **** you, keeping you from breathing. You'll need to cum picturing being paraded naked around town, being paddled the whole way.'

With a start, James realized that he had fished his erection out of his pants and started stroking it while thinking about being punished. Even worse, stroking his cock didn't feel right. There was no pleasure.

'No, there's no way she's actually magic. She couldn't have made me a masochist,' James thought to himself. Still, he gave his penis an experimental squeeze, making sure to really put some **** into it. Some part of him knew it would work, and work it did. Stroking didn't work, but squeezing definitely did. He started squeezing harder, then twisting, while his other hand started slapping the head of his dick.

Fuck. He really was a masochist. He'd be stuck torturing himself for life. And the worst part? Knowing he was trapped like that was enough to finally make him cum.