The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  “Lesson number one, my sweet apprentice. A wise wizard knows how to master the art of patience, for timing is everything.”

  Sarco’s lips captured her clit, and his teeth nipped the tender bud playfully. Lark lost all sense of time and space as reality faded away and pure pleasure took its place. He sucked and licked the tiny pearl-like globe of flesh, bringing Lark to the very pinnacle of a shattering orgasm, then backing off. Over and over he repeated the process. She begged, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as he feathered kisses up and down her lower body before returning once more to the engorged clit throbbing for his touch.

  Lark writhed beneath him, unable to remain still, trying to escape the torture of a joy too great while, at the same time, seeking to get closer, wanting more, needing more, craving all Sarco had to give.

  “Lesson number two, my delicious little apprentice. A wise wizard knows the prize comes to those who persevere.”

  The deep, passion-filled rumble of Sarco’s voice flowed through Lark’s every nerve ending, igniting sparks of anticipation along the way, and skittering them across her tender torso.

  Sarco latched onto Lark’s clit with renewed vigor. He sucked without pause as spasm after spasm of mind-shattering pleasure quaked every fiber of her being.

  Lark held onto his shoulders like they were a lifeline keeping her from drowning in the turbulent sea of enraptured release.

  “Lesson number three, my beautiful apprentice. A wise wizard knows to take proper care of his wand, for within the wand lies the capacity for great magic.”

  Lark gloried in the feel of skin against skin as Sarco, with a single, confident plunge, entered her.

  The width, weight, and length of him infused her with a heat of such magnitude, her body pulsed with it. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, rising to meet each thrust with an abandon born of pure need. Stroke after stroke, she gloried in the feel of him sliding in and out of her pussy as her muscles contracted, seeking to hold him tight.

  Intense pressure rocked her core once more and spread down and outward, pounding in her blood with a life force of its own. Lark gloried in Sarco’s powerful, unrestrained thrusts, until with a final plunge, he stiffened in her arms and shouted her name.

  The magnificent spasms of his cock and hot flow of his essence sparked ripples of such pleasure the world about her splintered into a million fragments of light and Lark’s own climax gave way to a feeling of completeness she had never before experienced.

  “Lesson number four, my Wonderful. A wise wizard knows that when his lady is well satisfied, so shall he be.”

  Outside, the sun shone brightly from a cloudless blue sky for the first time in days.

  ****

  “Well, did she give it to him?”

  Cyrrick Sunwalker grinned at the petite blond beauty scowling before him, her cute little nose stuck in the air, hands fisted on her hips, and a bejeweled foot tapping the floor impatiently.

  “You know, until you open your mouth, my love, no one would ever guess you’re half barbarian.”

  She socked him in the shoulder before he could move out of her range. He grasped her around the waist, tumbling her with him as he fell, laughing, onto the bed in the middle of his room.

  “And such a fierce little barbarian you are, my lady.”

  Aryanna glared at him. “I’ll show you fierce.”

  She struggled until she managed to get on top of him. Cyrrick laughed as she straddled him, pinning him beneath her.

  “How’s this for fierce?” she purred close to his ear while slowly rocking back and forth along his expanding cock.

  In a single movement, he flipped her over and burrowed his hardness against the welcoming softness between her thighs. “God, Ary, what you do to me.”

  Panting hard, as if he’d run a mile, Cyrrick quickly divested them both of the garments separating him from the flesh he craved to touch.

  With the wag back and forth of a single finger, Aryanna stopped him. “No…no…no, you don’t. There’ll be no fooling around until you’ve answered my question, knave.”

  He sighed and rolled over, bringing her with him and snuggling her under his arm with her head resting on his chest, close to his heart. “Of course, she gave it to him. You know Lark. She is nothing if not dependable and, before you ask, yes, I made sure to tell him to memorize the passage with the word changes we made, exactly the way we discussed it. Now can we make love, Ary? I have a powerful need to be inside you.”

  He watched as she chewed her bottom lip.

  Cyrrick caressed Aryanna’s cheek. “Don’t worry so much, my lady, it’ll work. It has to. Trust me in this.”

  “I hate deceiving them, Cyrrick. You should’ve seen Lark last evening. She looked horrible, and I heard her crying long into the night. What if Sarco doesn’t say the words just as we wrote them? What if he refuses to take the challenge and do the quest? Oh my God Draka, what if he fails? What am I going to do if Lark finds out I manipulated her and threw her and Sarco together?

  Cyrrick took a deep breath and blew it out. But he knew Aryanna wasn’t finished ranting yet, so he remained silent.

  “I can tell she’s already more than halfway in love with the man and feeling guilty because she thinks she’s being disloyal to me. If this doesn’t work and they don’t end up together, she’s going to hate me forever and I won’t blame her. This could backfire on us so easily. Then what would we do?”

  Cyrrick wrapped Aryanna tightly in his arms and cradled her once more close to his heart.

  “It’ll work. I know my brother. Sarco is honorable. He’ll take the challenge, he’ll do the quest, and he will not fail. There’s no other way, Ary. This must work. Without you at my side, life would have no purpose. Lark hasn’t realized you can probe minds yet, has she?”

  Cyrrick felt the shaking of her head before she spoke. “No, she doesn’t realize. She never has. Just like the rest of my family, she thinks I’m all lace and ribbons, jewels and gems, the proverbial pampered princess. Sometimes I wonder what she’d think if I opened up and allowed her to see who I really am. I’m almost as powerful as she when it comes to mind control.”

  Aryanna laughed. “Even as a child I could manipulate both my parents and they never suspected a thing. My brother and all my sisters did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted and never once questioned why. It’s the only spiritmaster trait I inherited.”

  Cyrrick patted her bottom. “I’m glad of that. I’d hate to see the weather change as often as your mood does.”

  Aryanna glared up at him, but that was her only response to his statement. “I could never use my powers on Grandmother Ava. I can get inside her mind but not control it. She’s much too powerful for that.” Aryanna poked Cyrrick squarely in the chest. “You, my love, seem to be the only person in all of Albrath whose mind I can’t get into at all. How do you manage to block me out?”

  Cyrrick chuckled. “Self-preservation, princess. If you could read my mind, my thoughts would either make you blush or get me smacked.”

  Aryanna leaned closer and the look of pure mischief glowing in her eyes made Cyrrick’s heart pound. “I don’t need to be able to read those thoughts to know what you’re thinking, knave.”

  Aryanna laughed and the tinkling of it, like the sound of fine crystal, didn’t do a thing to alleviate the persistent problem he struggled with whenever he was in her presence.

  Blood pounded through his veins, and his cock throbbed. Her small hand’s not-so-gentle cupping and squeezing almost made him embarrass himself by finishing before they even got a chance to start.

  “I’ll take pity on you this one time, knave,” she giggled, then leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I’m in control, though, and I’ll have my way.”

  Cyrrick moaned as she quickly slid up the length of his cock and took him into her hot pussy. “God Draka, Ary, ride the damn thing. Don’t just sit there torturing me.”

  She laughed again. “Quiet, knave, and let a princess work.”


  He clenched his jaw as she teasingly slid her way back up, only to suddenly plunge down—all the way down. His breath whooshed out, and he forgot to take the next one.

  “You like that? Want more, want faster, want deeper?”

  Cyrrick hissed, “You’re killing me, Ary. Have pity.”

  Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “If you insist.”

  A moment later, his balls were begging his cock for a quick reprieve as she clamped her muscles tightly about him and quickened her pace. She rode each stroke harder, faster, and deeper than the one before.

  “Like this?” she smiled.

  Cyrrick didn’t even have the presence of mind to nod. All he could do was hold tight to Aryanna’s waist, grin like a fool, and enjoy the ride.

  Chapter Nine

  If ever a man carried the heavy burden of responsibility resting on his broad shoulders with more finesse than Sarco Sunwalker, Lark would like to see that man. Sarco truly was a prince among men. Was it fair any mortal should have to live with the fact that not only did the future of his entire race and the peace of his lands lay completely and totally in his hands, but also that he must set aside his own desires and hopes for happiness for the good of countrymen he didn’t even know?

  Lark sighed as she followed Sarco from student to student, carrying his clipboard, taking notes, being his apprentice. With each passing day, she’d grown more convinced that never in the history of Albrath had there been a man more loving, more handsome, more intelligent, more patient—in fact, simply more—than this man.

  It wasn’t so much what Sarco said or did that distinguished him from other men. It was what he didn’t say or do. He didn’t need to resort to being loud or using force to gain respect or get his point across. His mere presence commanded unspoken respect and loyalty. Students flocked to him as a natural leader and hung on every word he uttered. He was magnificent—as a lover, as a friend, as a mentor—and, for a little while yet, he was hers.

  The last few weeks had flown by like the grains of sand in a broken hourglass. The semester was more than a quarter of the way over, and she dreaded its coming end. The end would herald the Yulemass celebration, and the Yulemass celebration would herald the arrival of the rest of her family and the horrid Sarco-asking-for-Ary’s-hand-in-marriage ceremony.

  Lark and Sarco didn’t speak of it. Ever. When they lay in each other’s arms, they both pretended the need to fulfill the prophecy didn’t exist. But the knowledge was there, always between them, always in the back of their mind, and Lark knew it. There was no escape from it or from the guilt.

  Ary. What was she going to do about Ary? What kind of a person was Lark to sleep with the man she knew was intended to be her own sister’s husband? Where was God Draka when a girl needed him, and why hadn’t he struck her down for the evil creature she obviously was? But, no, not even the threat of a curse of warts or a plague of rashes could make her stop and reconsider her wicked ways.

  And Ary herself certainly wasn’t helping matters. Her comments of, “I’m glad it’s you and not me who has to spend time with that boring wizard,” and “Sarco who? Oh, yeah, him,” didn’t lend well to self-restraint. If Ary didn’t care enough about the man to even want to be in his presence, then why should Lark feel guilty for stealing what few precious moments of happiness she could get?

  Lark heaved a sigh. Not even in her own mind could she justify her actions. Would that stop her, though? She knew it wouldn’t. Right or wrong, her heart was now in the sole possession of Sarco Sunwalker. All she could do was love the man with all she was for as long as she could and pray for a miracle.

  The distinct sound of someone sniffling drew Lark out of her introspection, and she glanced down the line of students. At first, she didn’t notice anything different in any of the faces she had come to know so well.

  The high-elf, Rysen, still had his nose an inch higher than everyone else’s and a look of complete boredom on his face, as he did every day. Barlomas, the dwarf, had his normal scowl and the remnants of his breakfast poking out from his long red beard. Even the dark-elf vixen, Deedra, looked as she always did, with her indigo-blue skin shimmering, her long snow-white hair flowing down her back, and her breasts impressive enough few noticed the blood red of her eyes or the cruel turn of her mouth.

  Nothing was amiss with this crew.

  Then the sound came again. Lark whipped her head back down the line at the same moment Deedra shifted her stance slightly. Now Lark could see who was crying. It was Sherman.

  What on Albrath could be wrong now? The first few days after Sherman rejoined the class had been trying, but after that, he’d settled in nicely and, in all fairness, was thriving.

  Lark wanted to go directly to the little halfling and ask what the matter was but knew she couldn’t.

  The beginning of every week was the same. Sarco greeted and lectured as he walked the line of students, and Lark followed behind him, taking notes. The students looked forward to this. It gave them an idea as to what the rest of the week would hold, and it let them know where they stood in their studies.

  No, she couldn’t disrupt the class. Only three more students to talk with, and then she and Sarco would be standing in front of Sherman who, as usual, was last in line. That would have to be soon enough.

  “Mr. Rysen.” Sarco’s voice rumbled low and deep. “I realize you feel practice is somewhat beneath you, but not only were your fireballs mediocre at best last week, but your spells were too. You can do better.”

  He held up his hand as the high-elf opened his mouth to speak. “Show me, Mr. Rysen, don’t tell me. That is all.”

  Rysen nodded.

  Sarco moved down the line.

  “Barlomas, how are you this fine morning?”

  The dwarf grimaced. “How do you think I am, sir? My arse still smarts where I landed on it the other day after you hit me with that damn fireball. I still say it wasn’t a low-level one either. Singed my beard near off, it did. Fairly roasted to ashes a fine piece of Alarian mountain goat I was saving for me lunch.”

  Sarco chuckled and the sound of it sent shivers of delight racing down Lark’s spine.

  “You’re probably right, it may well have been a medium-level spell. I’ll check more closely next time before I chuck one at you. I’m sorry about your arse, and, umm, your lunch.”

  Lark watched intently as Sarco approached Deedra, the dark-elf. True to form, the first place his gaze landed wasn’t her face. Lark’s instinct was to kick him in the shins to get his attention back on task. She settled for clearing her throat.

  The almost translucent high-elf skin of Sarco’s face pinkened as he raised his gaze to eye level with Deedra. “Umm…Miss Deedra, umm, you did a fine job last week. You have very good, umm, form. Yes, form. Keep up the good work, and you will do fine on the final breast—I mean, test.”

  Lark closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head. Men! What was it about an extra-large set of mammary glands that turned them all into drooling idiots? Looking at her own less than adequate cleavage, Lark sighed. She couldn’t blame Sarco for looking at the beautiful dark-elf. After all, he was every inch a man and Deedra was exquisitely lovely to look upon.

  Lark had to admit, if she were male, she’d probably lust after the dark, blue-skinned beauty herself, so how could she fault Sarco?

  Somehow that thought didn’t make her feel any better as she prodded him in the ribs to get him moving. She might have to accept the fact that Sarco Sunwalker was undoubtedly all male, but she didn’t have to let him know it.

  Finally, they arrived at Sherman. It took only a glance to tell something was wrong. Behind the taped-together rims of his big, round glasses, Sherman’s eyes were bloodshot and watery. His face was blotchy, and his one bushy eyebrow drooped. His lips quivered, and every couple of seconds, he sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  Lark’s heart went out to him, and she almost stretched to hug him before she remembered they were in class and it
wouldn’t be appropriate. The sound of Sarco’s voice saved her from embarrassing the halfling.

  “Sherman, what’s wrong?”

  It was like a dam burst as loud sobs rang through the room. The halfling covered his face with his hands, sank to the floor on his knees, and cried as if his heart was breaking.

  “Class dismissed,” Sarco shouted above Sherman’s wails.

  Lark marveled at Sarco’s tenderness as he bent, scooped the halfling up, carried him into the office, and deposited him gently into a chair.

  Kneeling before the distraught man, Sarco offered him a towel. “Want to talk about it?”

  Sherman took the piece of cloth and loudly blew his nose. “She does…does…doesn’t love me anymore,” he sobbed.

  Sarco shook his head. “Who doesn’t love you anymore, Sherman?”

  “Miss…Miss…Miss Sedona Cheddar, that’s who.” Sherman’s howls became so loud, the walls vibrated.

  Sarco patted the halfling on the back. “Come now, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

  “As bad as all that, you ask? I tell you, I’m ruined. My life is over. There’s no reason to go on. All is lost.” Sherman sniffed, swiped at his eyes and nose, then continued, “We had plans, she and I. Sedona is her parents’ only child and heir to their fortune. We had dreams and aspirations of a two-cheese dynasty. Now all is ruined. My love, my life, and my beautiful dreams are all gone. How…how…how could she possibly leave me, Sherman Bobbert Limburger the Ninth, for that useless Karl Xavier Gouda? He doesn’t love her. He just wants her family’s money.”

  The halfling was once more overcome with grief, and his sobs tore at Lark’s heart. “Now, now, it’ll get better, you’ll see.” She patted the Sherman’s shoulder.

  After a few moments, the halfling composed himself. “We were once friends, Karl and I. As children we used to play together. But not one day in his rotten life did Karl ever do the right thing. I was the only person to befriend the backstabbing girlfriend stealer. Now, Karl has my beautiful Sedona and I have nothing.”