by A. S. Etaski
I figured that would be as far as I got. Too direct for this ancient, clever male, but I was keenly aware of where I wanted to go and of the time it took for whoever was coming.
Then, finally, they arrived.
Two wizards in dark blue robes entered the room. They were far younger than Phaelous—though that description might fit about every wizard here—and older than me by a century if it was a cycle. Neither seemed pleased to be here or openly intrigued by my presence, not like the younger cleaners on the main level. If anything, I thought them wary of me, even if they hid their thoughts from their face. They had learned to stand at ease with a patient, placid face like their Headmaster.
His expression wasn’t the only thing the one on the left had in common with the elder wizard. I stared at a young wizard who shared the same eye shape and color, as well as general form with the Headmaster, if a bit shorter in stature. There was no fooling anyone; if Phaelous had not sired the bua, then they were close relatives.
So, maybe Phaelous is still virile at his age? Impressive.
“Who—?” I began.
“This is Raegal and Shyntre,” Phaelous interrupted me, introducing them with a wave of his hand. “They each have talent for working with stones, determining which types of magic may fix to or interact with it. I shall be using your Elder’s samples to further train them, so they shall be handling the items you’ve provided. Recommended you inform your Elders of this, as they will ask and expect you to know.”
The two wizards each bowed at the waist, stiff and less elegant than their Headmaster. “Red Sister.”
Their voices soft to the point I turned an ear to hear them. A bit high. Similar. Both were tense, and the one not clearly related to the Headmaster, Raegal, could have been of any House. It was more likely he was from a House either around or below mine, if only because I’d grown familiar with the attitudes at Court, and he did not hold himself like a male in the Top Eight the way Shyntre did. Although, I couldn’t know for sure just looking at their faces.
“Alright,” I said. “Raegal and Shyntre will be handling the stones with you, Headmaster. Understood. Which Houses may then hear of this curiosity?”
“None, Red Sister,” Phaelous answered with confidence. “My learners are like yourself. They hold loyalty first to the Valsharess, to Her Priesthood and Sisterhood. Their Houses are not privy to what they learn inside this tower. They rarely ever go home unless called to help quicken a womb.”
“I see. Very good.”
Not good. A clean block to what I really wanted to know, and the old male knew it. My knowledge reached its limit about then, and pride held me back from prodding more. Any question I asked about what they intended to do would reveal that I couldn’t read any of the encrypted language in this room.
Neither of these buas, both older than me and trained with very different expertise, seemed like they would be as indulgent of my curiosity and respectful of my station as the Headmaster. It also wasn’t a good idea to bring up psionics and those sensitive to them, so I had no angle where they would have to raise their knowledge base to answer me.
Damn it.
Phaelous smiled at me. “If there’s nothing else, Red Sister, you may go about your duties.”
I checked the candle. Still over a mark left before I hit my time limit. Enough for a little foreplay before I watched Callitro’s face as he spurted up my twat.
Ohhh-kay, I’m ready.
“Nothing else, Headmaster, thank you. How would you have me get to the seventeenth level?”
Phaelous turned to the two wizards. “Would one of you volunteer to escort the Red Sister to Callitro’s dormitory?”
Both their somatic reactions were notable, including a few facial tics, and I blinked in surprise. They hate me.
Or, at the very least, they hated my uniform. Phaelous was testing them, their poise and wit under pressure, just as my Elders did with me and my Sisters.
“You can do it,” Shyntre offered to Raegal, his precious wizard’s hand casually gesturing his way.
The other bua whipped his head around to glare at him. “What? Blight on you, Shyntre! You do it.”
The wizard’s dark red eyes were half-hidden by tight, scowling white brows. “I just got back from the Sanctuary. I have catch-up to do.”
“You think I’m not busy?”
“Not as busy as I am.”
“Some special toad, aren’t you? You just want first look at those stones.”
“No, Raegal, I don’t care. You can have first crack at those, too, if you escort the Red Sister.”
“I shouldn’t have to.” The other bared a petty expression as he snarled, “You’re the one that always gets called by the Headm—”
“Shut your gap!”
“Fuck you, let me finish! I already agreed to—”
“Right! Alright, you puking waste of components!”
My jaw hung completely loose to witness the bickering, and Phaelous did nothing to intercede; the elder wizard acted like he watched a boring pair of jesters on a stage. For the first time, I wondered if this all-male Tower could be worse than the pettiness at Court.
If only for the fact that they have fewer outlets for their frustrations.
“It is decided?” Phaelous asked with bland interest.
Both young males turned to him, their hearts pounding and their bodies warm to my eyes. I sniffed, noting the stronger scents as well; not just the result of body heat but as if they had both been elbow-deep in potion extracts for the last cycle and hadn’t bothered to bathe before leaving their work. If that’s what they were doing when summoned to come here, I could be glad, at least, in that they hadn’t wasted my infertility potion.
“I’ll escort the Red Sister to Callitro’s room, Headmaster,” Shyntre said, clearly enunciated and resented.
“Very well. I shall get started with Raegal, but you return here immediately after she has reached her destination. No detours or loitering.”
“Yes, Headmaster,” Shyntre said, almost a growl through clenched teeth.
The elder male next looked at me. “I respectfully request his delay in returning here be kept at a minimum, Red Sister, so he may help fulfill your Elder’s request. I require his skills.”
Shyntre made a face before returning to scowling, and I imagined Phaelous was doing his best not to show favoritism to his likely-son. Not when the entire Tower is filled with buas for whom he was responsible.
I shrugged and nodded. “I have no reason to delay him, Headmaster, I’m here to see Callitro.”
“Very good, young Sister. I am certain he will be glad to see you.”
Shyntre walked me out of the library, leading me toward the nearest jump circle. He was burning up, heat flowing off his dark robe, and he stank like mushrooms boiled in urine. I wrinkled my nose.
“What were you working on when the Headmaster called you?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, thought better of what he was about to say, and tried again. “I am not at liberty to say, Red Sister. I direct your question back to my Headmaster.”
Oh? I smiled. “Something to aid the Priesthood or the Sisterhood?”
His body flushed hot again as we stepped into the nearest circle. “Red Sister, I need to concentrate if you want to make it up-level with all your limbs attached.”
Gruesome threat.
“Very well. Do I need to hold your hand to assure that?”
His body language screamed, Don’t touch me.
“No, Red Sister. Standing in the circle is enough. You should know that from the Ornilleth battle.”
“Ah? You know the particulars of that?”
“Only what the battlemages said. That the Red Sisters appeared out of nowhere to turn the favor for them. I know the Sisterhood moves around quickly using them. It makes sense.”
“You were guessing?”
“Educated but, yes. Now, please be quiet a moment.”
>
That was surprisingly difficult, and my stomach lurched even more on that account. I tilted and just caught my balance when we left a level smelling of books and arrived at another smelling of bua bodies holed up in their bedrooms for a long time. I inhaled deeply, enjoying it despite the sourness of the wizard next to me.
Shyntre stepped out of the circle and led me where I wanted to go before I had even decided how fast I wanted to get there. The wizard seemed like a fun one to tease, though in a far different way than I intended to tease Callitro. I was curious why both he and Raegal showed no fear of my uniform, at least covering it behind strong dislike, and I wanted to know why. It could be for many good reasons; I just wanted to know which one.
Especially if they’ll be handling the Dwarf stones.
“Wait, wizard,” I said, but I had run out of time.
Shyntre placed his palm on the smooth stone by Callitro’s door, and I heard movement behind it as the young battlemage responded.
“My Headmaster requested that I not dawdle to chat with you, Red Sister,” he said coolly without looking away from the door, which opened the next moment.
Callitro seemed to recognize Shyntre, nodding his head to acknowledge his presence but did not have a specific reaction to him. That was, perhaps, because he was too quickly looking at me. The young mage smiled in a genuine pleasure I had only seen a few times at Court.
“Welcome, Red Sister,” he said. “I was hoping to see you soon.”
“Progress report?” I asked as an answering urge to smile dragged up one side of my mouth.
“For certain, and my pleasure to confirm.” His burnt orange eyes slid over my red leathers. Callitro did not hate my uniform. Quite the opposite. “Will you come in?”
At last, I grinned. “Why I’m here.”
“Excuse me,” Shyntre said and left, his heartbeat fading with his sandaled footsteps.
Callitro and I glanced at his surly retreat. Since the younger wizard shrugged, unsurprised with the behavior, I stepped inside so my new bua could close the door. As before, I could already see evidence of his welcome beneath his robe. I knew I had about a mark, and my netherhole was still on the raw side. I could take him safely in my cunt, but like before, he probably wouldn’t last long enough for me to cum, too.
Might have to suck him again and use his nut gland to hurry that second ride.
The wizard read my face accurately this time and began to undress, keeping his peace for the moment about the progress report. I probably grinned like an absent fool as he pulled soft fabric down to reveal bare shoulders, arms, and chest. I held my breath until he fully undid the tie at his waist and dropped the robe at his bare feet.
“I was told to expect you,” he said, his cock good and hard. “I know your time might be short. I’ve already climaxed once, Red Sister. It will take some time to do so again.”
Oh, you clever, precious treasure.
I swept Callitro up into my arms and kissed his mouth, thrusting my tongue inside as I held his naked body tight against my leathers. He relaxed into it so fast I imagined he must have been dreaming of it before now; he put his arms around me and kissed me back, yielding his lips to all the sucking and nibbling I desired. I gripped his ass, pulled his standing prick hard against me, squeezing it hot between our bellies; he responded eagerly, grinding his erection against me.
Moaning in approval, I tested one more thing as I held his buttocks with both gloved hands. Parting them, I fingered his hole, and a powerful rush swept through me when he gasped in surprise but then relaxed. He allowed my fingertip inside, even being a little dry.
I wished I had Gaelan’s Feldeu.
“Fuck, yes, bua,” I panted, pulling my mouth away, grasping for some self-control.
Callitro’s heart beat strong and steady against me; he watched my face with a low-lidded gaze, surely able to feel my quivering. He waited, didn’t have to say a thing. He smiled, slowly, and did anyway.
“However you want it, Red Sister.”
I smirked. “I want to ride you into a soggy, brainless lump.”
The battlemage nodded, showing his delight. “Do it. Please.”
“I want you to fill my cunt with a bigger load than you shot in my mouth.”
He groaned, gripping my armored shoulders eagerly. “I want it, too, Red Sister.”
“Sirana. When we’re alone.”
“Sirana, yes.” Even in this light, I saw the bua’s cheeks flush hot. “Sirana, fuck me.”
“I mean to. Get on your back. On the bed.”
My eyes were fixed upon his lithe body as he obeyed, upon every bend of his back and rise of his bare shoulders as he watched me try to get out of uniform without tearing anything. I was sweating enough now that parts of it wanted to stick.
Stupid fucking thing. Come on!
My cunt was so ready by the time I was naked and ready to pounce that it ached to slip even a finger in there. Callitro couldn’t blink as he watched me do it, and he saw the string of stretchy slit-juice as I finally pulled my hand away to show him my swollen netherlips, ready to swallow him whole. He nodded, licking his lips, holding his cock by the base so it stuck straight up. His sex was leaking, too.
He had a candle lit with markers on his workbench; I grabbed it and set it on the cluttered bed stand before I joined him. The young battlemage welcomed me, settling back and lightly holding my hips with his hands as I got into position over him to grab his pole and nestle it between my legs. I took him with a mutual groan, felt my ready body accommodate him with overt greed, fluttering and settling around every bit of him from tip to base.
“S-Sirana,” he breathed in awe, his hips jerking with involuntary urgency. “Ohhh, hot…”
I glanced at the candle marks, noted where we were, how much time I had to enjoy my ride. I found myself snickering as I breathed out, preparing to torture us both in the best of ways, right up to the very limit.
“Probably should’ve jerked it twice before I came up here,” I whispered, holding his eyes and grinning with pure wickedness. “Suggestion… for next time.”
Neither the Headmaster nor a messenger had come to Callitro’s door by the time I had exhausted the both of us. My legs and arms rapidly approaching a liquid state, I flopped over to one side with a bounce, forcing Callitro to shift closer to the wall to make room for me on the narrow bed. Our limbs overlapped; hips and shoulders pressed together, we gasped for breath, our chests coated in sweat. I had my coveted, creamy spunk sprayed up inside and now oozing out from between ruffled lips, and my vision had come back while my blood still rushed in my ears. Callitro, the little fucker, fell right to sleep.
Unusual.
As our breathing had begun to settle, I checked the candle mark again. I’d made it, I saw, cutting it close as I could, and I smirked as I fondled my semen-coated lips, lying in the young wizard’s bed. The risk only added spice, which was not a good thing, really, but easily the most Abyssal, insane set of climaxes I’d had in turns. Maybe a decade, if I didn’t count the most recent Priestess ritual.
Two if I don’t count either of them.
Not in any hurry to report back to the Cloister, I lounged in a bed far more comfortable than the pallets in the barracks. I stared at the ceiling, at the odd strings of shriveled plants or mushrooms hanging to dry; I wondered what the wizard used them for. His workbench seemed full of partial projects awaiting his attention, and his bookshelf was not nearly as organized as the fifth level library.
That reminds me…
I nudged the battlemage awake. “Hey. You owe me a progress report.”
“Hmn?” Callitro was caught in a yawn that nearly locked his jaw as he hurried to close it. “Oh…”
His eyes flew open as he remembered where he was. Who he was with.
“Oh!”
He scrambled up, crawling over me with legs wide open to get his foot on the floor. I snickered, reaching for a playful swat to his swinging
bits as he stumbled trying to avoid it.
“Whoa!”
I laughed hard enough to hold my stomach as he knocked over a basket of stained cloths. He launched back to standing, spinning around as if to get his bearings in his dwelling.
“Surely my presence doesn’t make this place unrecognizable!” I hooted.
At first the wizard didn’t know what to say. He opted for grinning with a familiar shyness, his eyes flitting over me. In his rumpled bed.
“Almost, Red Sister.”
He’d stopped calling me by name as soon as his prick wasn’t inside me. Good call.
I winked as I rose up on one elbow, turning my hip. “So. Your report?”
“Uhh, yes. Uhm.” He looked around his room to locate something and spotted it on the left side of his workbench. “Aha!”
I sat up with interest, putting my feet on the thin throw rug beside the bed as he retrieved it and came and sat down next to me. Callitro opened his palm to show me a plain, golden ring.
“If you please, Red Sister, choose a finger where you might wear this so I can size it right.”
“Hmm. Does it matter which hand?”
“Ideally, the one you use to strike with.”
I smirked at him. “I use both.”
“With a weapon?”
Oh.
I shook my head, lifting my right hand for that. “Mostly this one, unless it’s broken.”
Callitro nodded. “And a preferred finger? It can be whichever you like.”
I grinned, shifting my hand into a lewd gesture. “Either of these two would be fine.”
The wizard bit his lip as his shoulders jumped a time or two with amusement, and he chose my middle finger, slipping the gold band on and seeing where it got stuck. I adjusted the angle of my hand so he could work on it more easily; I watched his lips as his bright eyes focused only on what he was doing. I heard him mutter words I didn’t know, though they sounded like Davrin, and they were sort of musical.
My hand tingled as he held it in his, and the ring loosened by itself to fit over my knuckle and slide into place like the jeweler had known it was for me from the start. I was pretty sure it had been sized for Callitro’s hand just a moment before. I rubbed my thumb against the smooth metal, watching him expectantly, then uttered a sound of surprise when it warmed abruptly in response.
