by Paris Zane
The Education of Alexa
Title Page
Chapter 1. The Cleric
Chapter 2. Revenge
Chapter 3. The Dungeon
Chapter 4. Old Friends
THE EDUCATION OF ALEXA
Master of the Elements – Book Two
By Paris Zane
Text Copyright 2015 by Paris Zane
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.
Author's note: All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Published by Paris Zane at Smashwords.
Chapter 1. The Cleric
Visandra stood naked in the candlelight as she had done many times since the ordeal of the stocks, examining herself in her full-length mirror. Her dry, torn skin would show permanent scarring from prolonged exposure to the sun. It was still difficult for her to walk, her knees stiff with long scabs from the courtyard stones, and the skin on her wrists showed deep scratches from the rough wood of her torture device. She had been beautiful, she thought privately, and now she appeared damaged. The beating she took inside and out would never be forgotten, but she was expected to forgive the punishment as the Masters had forgiven her crimes against the Spire, consorting with Druids and using earth magic. Her public humiliation and beating was considered just in a society where death was handed out to those who no longer served the needs of the Masters. As much as she was thankful to her best friend for her release, she would never again believe in her Guild. She would swear allegiance, practice her lessons, and meditate with the others, but it was a sham. She wanted to be anywhere else other than the Spire, but until she could plan an escape, she had to play along with Master Zafir, lying to the same man who chose her brutal, torturous punishment, a man she had once trusted completely.
Even worse was lying to Alexa, but she'd grown accustomed to secrets in the time since she joined the Druids, and her indoctrination into their society was everything Visandra couldn't get from the Spire . . . freedom, respect, power. From the first time she reached into the earth and felt its raw power seeping into her flesh, Vis was devoted to learning how to weave the roots, harden the stone, and grow the fruit that would feed her. While the Masters believed that fire was the creator of all things, she now believed that to be blasphemous. It was obvious that fire was the destroyer and earth the mother of all things. She would no longer be deceived by the destructive power of her Guild, even though it was great. Sadly, Alexa had not only joined the Masters, but had spent many days and nights with the bishop of the order, Master Zafir. Vis had not spoken to Alexa about the exact nature of her relationship with the bishop, since their time together had been fleeting and their friendship strained by her experience in the stocks. But Vis knew what it meant to get close to Zafir, and she knew that following her friend's visit to the Spire, her release was expedient. Whatever power of persuasion Alexa had exercised over her old Master – body or mind – it had freed her of the torment she suffered.
Now, a fortnight later, her bones ached and her muscles twitched. She had taken to seeing a cleric of a visiting order, no longer trusting of the healers of the Spire. Every time she treated with the wiry healer whatever area he had focused on improved greatly, and whether it was through alchemy, psychology, or foreign magic, the gains were welcome and the cost low. Vis guessed he was sworn to a monastic order of some sort, but exactly what and where was a mystery – the cleric never spoke, communicating only with his deeds, his hands telling a story of intense training. She recalled his talented fingers working their healing on her bruised ribs, and she slowly traced her ribcage up to her breasts, feeling their weight and perfection, thankful that her assailants were not more imaginative with their violence.
Visandra's fingers trailed to her hips, then her pubic bone, but stopped short of her naked vagina. She still could not bring herself to seek sexual pleasure after her public humiliation, and hated this weakness. Visandra was not one to martyr herself for any cause, and she recalled fondly the intensity of her night in the wood with the Druids. Such intense physical sensations that she hadn't imagined, and only since matched by the pain and suffering she experienced at the hands of her tormenters. She longed for that positive feeling again, hoping that renewed ecstasy would drown her painful memories.
Visandra slipped on her red Apprentice's robe, with a headscarf to cover her hair. It was an ineffective disguise, as she'd been the talk of the Spire since her public shaming, but walking the streets in anything but her Guild robe would be seen as an affront to the order. She would take a circuitous route to the cleric and hope her minor celebrity would attract little attention, lest the chattering begin about this particular failure of faith. She strapped on her sandals and moved quickly out the door, glancing once more at her mirror image before blowing out the candles. Walking the steps outside of her apartment was difficult given her injuries, and she decided that today she would ask the cleric to use his gifts on her battered and bruised knees. While the pain in her ribs had kept her from breathing without pain, now she just wanted to move with her natural grace again. She hoped against hope he could perform that miracle as her legs buckled every few minutes on the short walk to the lower district, where alcohol flowed heavily and legs opened easily.
The lower district was filthy compared to the Guild-inhabited regions of the Spire, and Vis strongly believed this was intentional. Walking into this den of iniquity was a clear choice – you abandoned the polished stone walkways for natty weeds growing out of crumbled stone, broken glass and discarded liquor bottles guaranteeing that any self-respecting citizen would keep themselves and their families far away. Vis brushed past a starving old man huddled in a doorway and ignored the catcall of a drunken miscreant before reaching her destination, The Fatted Calf. Before the construction of the Spire, the Fatted Calf's large kitchen and sprawling dining room was home to romance and decadence, with whole lamb slaughtered in the kitchen for the freshest leg and rack and a cellar full of the finest wines. The upper stories boasted a series of penthouses for those who wanted their romance to continue onto the next morning, or those who would be better off not returning home with their date.
Today the Fatted Calf was a gloomy tavern, with every corner hiding a traveler with a shady past and uncertain future. The opulent dining room had fallen into disrepair, with wobbly chairs and wine-stained tables of dull splintered wood. The kitchen had devolved from a haven of inventive food preparation into a production area for cheap moonshine and mood-altering drugs, none sanctioned by the Guilds, but all understood as a means to keep the working class from revolting against their betters.
The cleric rented a small room in what used to be the penthouses, and while Visandra believed he neither drank nor used illicit drugs, the lack of judgment from his landlords was the key to their relationship. He didn't have windows, and his bathroom was shared with another room, but Vis was strangely jealous of the mysterious healer, who owed allegiance to no man except himself. It was romantic, in a way, that he could meditate alone until someone in need happened upon his chamber. Romantic and lonely.
Vis knocked softly, a silly kindness given that she'd simply knock louder if he didn't respond. She needed his treatment and would not hesitate to interrupt his meditation or sleep to get it. Just as she began to rap harder, the door opened, and the cleric's bald head ducked behind the opening. He nodded and the door swung open. He gestured towards his treatment table, a waist-high long counter that more than likely doubled as his breakfast nook and reading desk when he wasn
't engaged with a patient. Except, Vis thought, I haven't ever seen him with another patient.
Her landlady, a woman of no small reputation herself, had recommended the cleric on Visandra's return home. Vis imagined this was an apologetic gesture after the landlady had her personal belongings crated up in advance of her inevitable death in the stocks. Vis still hadn't unpacked the crates, thinking she wouldn't be staying long enough to do so. If only she had any valuables, she could sell some for her getaway. Today, she had to scrape together a few pence to pay the cleric, and that alone was a struggle. She fished out the coins and laid them on the cleric's side table, and he nodded again. Vis slide out of her robe and scarf and sat on the table facing him, her naked body awaiting his instruction.
The cleric's eyes shone on her body, and he looked here and there, evaluating her damaged skin and bruised muscles. He took her arm and lightly twisted it to reveal the scratches on the back side, the haggard skin of her wrist and elbow, before placing her hand on her thigh and focusing his gaze on her knees. He kneeled to get a closer look, and if it were any other man, Vis would think he was trying to look into her crotch, a thick burrow of curls hiding her pink flesh. She was glad he had gravitated to her legs, lest she have to communicate her needs to the mute man. Vis didn't know whether he had a vow of silence to an unknown god, but he had never uttered a word in her presence. He understood her well enough, but any discussion that took place would be a flurry of gestures she simply didn't have the patience for given her state of mind. It was much easier for the healer to recognize her needs and meet them, and she was happy to let him do so.
The cleric stood, taking her by the shoulder to lean her back, his left hand placing a pillow under her head. The naked girl felt a slight chill as a breeze tickled her prone form, and she shivered. Did he smile? Vis asked herself, catching a glimpse of his upturned lip. Surely not. He walked away and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet smell of burning incense while she could hear him gathering lotions and tools to work on her injuries. Finally she relaxed, letting loose a long, slow breath that snapped her system into the healing mindset. She was in good hands, and there was no need to worry.
Her relaxation gave way to sleep, and she was jolted a bit by the feeling of cool moisture on her right leg, starting at the top of her shin and moving onto her thigh. She thumbed away a bit of drool from her mouth as she reflected on her complete relaxation in the cleric's chambers. Vis kept her eyes closed as what felt like a serpentine leaf was wrapped around her right kneecap, and a minty aroma wafted from the treatment. It felt so cool and healthful, and she anticipated the same feeling on her left knee. Within a few moments, relief came, and she let out an appreciative sigh. The salve tingled on her exposed skin, the smell strong, and she almost laughed at her good fortune. Then came cool moisture on her pubic area, brushed down the outer lips of her vagina, and she sat up, startled. She shook her head at the cleric, who gazed at her, dumbfounded.
“No, not that. My legs, not . . . not that.” She wasn't angry with the man, but she was surprised at how upset the contact made her. He gently took her left hand and used his right to indicate some manner of signal over her legs. The healer repeated the hand motion again, and Visandra realized he was motioning a triangle from her pubis down to her knees. He signed what she knew meant “pain” and then “healing”, his hand fluttering over her naked form. Does he know how injured I am, deep inside? Vis asked herself, does he think that doing . . . this . . . will heal my legs? It would be statement of the deepest trust to let him continue on her womanhood. But I do trust him. And with that, Visandra separated her legs and leaned back onto the pillow, nodding to the bald mute to continue.
The cream he brushed onto her pubis was not the same tingly mint concoction he had coated her legs with, instead it was an extremely thick and moist lotion, and while it seeped into her skin, he extracted a long, flat blade, sharpening it against a leather strap. He's going to shave me, she thought, taking silent solace in his perfectly hairless head, which shone without scars or imperfections, but at least he has experience. Vis realized at that moment that the healer wasn’t a bad looking man, maybe a little mousy and smallish, but not unattractive. Some small consolation, given his very private contact.
She closed her eyes, attempting to relax as the cold blade rested on her stomach. Painstakingly the blade made its was down to her outer folds, the reddish hair coming away in bunches as he wiped and sharpened his razor. He was an artist with the instrument, and feeling his precision on her most private area was beginning to turn Vis on. This was such a difference from the violence she had experienced in the stocks, where brutes set upon her body for their own amusement, beating her until she was deeply injured. Here, she was completely exposed to a man who took great pains to make her feel better with each visit, at very little personal gain.
Alexa began to enjoy his touch, as well as the cold steel on her skin. She had never imagined that the cleric could engage her erotically, and secretly wondered if he even felt sexual impulses. What's more, she'd never even considered having her hair shorn in this way, and found it increasingly sexy. He's amazing, she thought, even healing my desire for sex. With each careful cut her mind returned to her sexual self-discovery, wiping away the memory of the humiliation in the courtyard. She felt him tug at her upper thighs lightly and realized he was shaving away what little hair she had surrounding her anus.
The razor's movements became more and more precise, until she barely felt contact with her skin, before a cool towel was pressed lightly into her flesh and removed. The chill in the air was pronounced on her newly shorn pubis, and she looked up from the pillow, seeing her perfectly hairless vagina shining in the candlelight. That's the sexiest thing I've even seen, she thought, and couldn't stop from wondering if the cleric was also completely shaved. She wasn't simply feeling a little erotically charged by now, Vis was completely horny.
The cleric approached her, mixing together another lotion of some sort, and make the hand motion for “healing” again. Vis lay back on the table, relaxing herself, as she felt his masterful hands working the cool lotion into her shaven skin. Each finger seemed to be independently massaging the cream into her skin, around her outer labia and onto her clit, down her lips and around her anus. The smell was fresh and creamy, lacking acid and thick in the air, and as it soaked into her flesh she became more aroused. As she focused on the pleasure, the healing hands felt like one, two, three men all working to restore her pleasure center.
Oh, fuck, she thought, he's going to make me cum without even trying. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to focus her mind on physical healing instead of orgasmic sensation. Vis would be embarrassed if his innocent healing process ended in her breathless orgasm on his hands, and the last thing she wanted was to strain her relationship with the cleric. Relax, she thought, this is therapeutic, not erotic. Just then, the cleric's talented fingers dipped into her soaking vagina and she gasped loudly, pushing back against his hand.
The cleric removed his fingers from inside her and Vis panicked, immediately sitting up, but finding him nowhere around. Oh no, she thought with frustration, now I've fucked this up too. Suddenly a hand brushed her hair lightly, leaning her back to the pillow, and the cleric came from behind the young girl. In his other hand was something she couldn't see, but she quickly realized that he wasn't embarrassed by her pleasure, that was his intent. She lay down, stealing glances at the healer, and his serious appearance suggested Vis should just continue to trust him.
He raised his hand, dropping three identical balls into the bowl of lotion he'd been applying to her womanhood. He swirled the bowl in a circular motion, and Vis could hear the balls sliding against the crockery, occasionally coming into contact with one another with a sharp tapping sound. He coated the balls in the lotion and then selected one of the balls, pulling it out without wiping off the lotion. Now she was certain she saw him grin slightly as he moved the bowl between her legs.
Both
of the cleric's hands were liberally coated with the healing salve, and he positioned his left hand on top of her shaven skin, cupping the fingers curled around her lips and clit. His right hand moved to her opening, placing a lubricated ball as low as he could, pressed against her anus. Is he going to? I don't think I can take that, Vis thought as she breathed out, hoping for the best and expecting to feel pressure on her ass. Instead his left hand began to massage downward on her pubic bone while the ball rolled upward, and before she had time to consider what was happening, the ball slid into her slit, coating her insides with the thick lotion. She felt the ball move through her insides as he continued to manipulate her with his left hand. Vis closed her eyes, intent on enjoying the pleasure the cleric was giving her, and felt the second ball pressed against her backside before it joined the first ball inside her sex. As she began to move her hips to follow his pubic massage, the third ball joined the others deep inside her.
Once all three balls were inside her, Visandra lost all sense of equilibrium, feeling like she was floating over the table while the balls began to rotate and tap against one another. Each roll of the balls was an intense internal massage, and every time they tapped against another ball they would vibrate for a few seconds, sending a wave of euphoria through Visandra. She bit her lip and concentrated on the swirling, vibrating balls while the cleric began to press harder on her upper pubic area, controlling the balls like a marionette deep in her womb. This is fucking amazing, Vis thought, amazed, I never want this to stop. Moments later she knew it would, and soon, as the balls began to rotate on the underside of her clit while the tips of his fingers and her lips manipulated the top of her pleasure button. Both sides of her clit were massaged simultaneously and she couldn't even form words to tell the cleric to continue. “Uhhh, fuuu, ummmm, yeah,” she moaned, “There, there, fuuu!”
