I never intended to use it on her. The power arrived like a fever in the middle of the night, a whisper in my skull that told me exactly what to think and how to make others think it too. At first it was innocent enough, or so I told myself. My wife, Elena, had been distant for months, our bedroom quiet except for the occasional obligatory touch. I lay beside her one evening, watching the rise and fall of her breasts under the thin sheet, and the thought slipped out before I could stop it: *Relax. Want me.*
She stirred, her eyes half-lidded, and turned toward me with a softness I hadnt seen in years. Her hand found my thigh, then higher, fingers curling around me with sudden hunger. I felt the connection like a live wire between our minds. She didnt question it. She simply opened her legs and pulled me on top of her, whispering how badly she needed me inside her. The sex was raw and immediate, her body clenching around me as if she had been waiting all day. I came harder than I had in years, and for a moment I thought I could control just this one thing.
But the power didnt stay small. Each time I used it, the thread between us thickened. I began to experiment during the day. While she folded laundry I would send a quiet command: *Touch yourself when you think Im not looking.* She would pause, cheeks flushing, and slip a hand beneath her waistband. I watched from the doorway, heart pounding, as her breathing quickened. The guilt came later, but it was always drowned by the sight of her hips rocking against her own fingers.
Soon I wanted more than obedience. I wanted her to crave strangers the way she now craved me. One Friday night I invited an old friend over for drinks. Elena wore a dress I had mentally suggested, low-cut and clinging. Halfway through the evening I pushed the thought into her: *You want him to watch you.* She excused herself, then returned wearing nothing beneath the dress. When she sat on the arm of his chair and let the fabric ride up, I felt the power surge through me like heat. My friends eyes widened. Elena looked at me with a mixture of confusion and pure lust, unable to stop the slow parting of her thighs.
That night after he left, she attacked me in the hallway, tearing at my clothes. Whats happening to me? she gasped, even as she sank to her knees and took me into her mouth. I could have released the hold. Instead I tightened it: *Suck harder.
Show me how much you need this.* Her throat worked greedily around me while tears of conflicted pleasure slid down her cheeks. I came down her throat and felt something vital between us snap.
The family began to fray after that. Our adult son noticed the tension first. Elena grew distracted at dinner, her mind drifting to the filthy images I kept feeding her. She would excuse herself and I would hear the vibrator through the bedroom door. When I joined her she begged me to fuck her while describing the things she wanted other men to do to her. The words were mine, planted and blooming. She repeated them like prayers.
One afternoon I pushed too far. I made her call an ex-boyfriend while I listened on the extension. Her voice trembled as she told him she needed to be used again. The conversation turned explicit quickly; she described positions and acts she had never done with me until I commanded them. When she hung up she looked at me with horror and raw arousal. Youre doing this, she whispered. I can feel you inside my head.
I didnt deny it. Instead I took her on the kitchen table, her legs wrapped around me, both of us knowing the marriage was already bleeding out. She came with a broken sob, clenching around me while the power hummed between us. Afterward she packed a bag.
The house felt cavernous once she was gone. I tried to stop using the ability, but the hunger had roots now. Late at night I would reach out across the city and feel the faint echo of her thoughts, still tangled with mine. She was with someone else, I could sense it, and the knowledge twisted into a dark, exquisite ache. I would stroke myself in the empty bed, sending one last command across the distance: *Think of me while he fucks you.*
The reply came back like a ghost: her orgasm crashing through the link, sharp and unwilling and utterly mine. I finished alone, the pleasure hollow and perfect, knowing I had traded everything for these stolen moments of control. The family was gone, scattered by my own hunger, yet every night the power whispered that I could still reach them if I wanted to. And God help me, some nights I still do.
