by A. S. Etaski
“Hm? Oh, there it is.” He nodded. “That’s your ring.”
I smirked. “You put it on the floor?”
His face warmed. “It fell off when I got up to answer the door.”
“And you were too excited to pause on the way?” I chuckled.
“One should never keep Red Sisters waiting,” he said with a charming smile. “It’s safe advice.”
I laughed. We had both relaxed a bit in the banter, and I followed Callitro’s lead as he opened the door for me and then closed it again, securing it with a ward significantly more complicated than the ones I was training to break or withstand. He didn’t trust his Towermates, especially not after believing one of them had drugged him for fun.
That could work against us the next time we need battlemages to fight, but I can’t tell him. I should tell Elder Rausery about it.
I sighed softly at the thought, took two steps just behind Callitro as he moved toward the jump circle, and then the door in front of us popped open.
“Callitro!”
Two grinning wizards around his own age. Not battlemages, no brown sash.
“You emerge at last!”
“Introduce us?”
My escort glanced at me—I put on my bored expression—and shook his head. “No, we answer a summons. I must take her to the main floor without delay.”
“We’ll come with you.”
They stuck like burrs.
“No!” Callitro said, annoyed. “Cluttered circles give everyone headaches, you know that!”
The first one shrugged while the other studied my armor intensely.
“So we’ll follow after.”
More doors around both bends were opening at the same time, at the very least curious about the raised voices. My mouth twisted in response. Fucking Abyss…
One bua was fine. A troop of buas, each wanting something? At the very least, a look or some attention? I’d never get out of here, and I knew I was finished playing in the Tower for the cycle.
“Go back to your rooms,” Callitro insisted, gesturing the first two away without effect.
“You can’t tell us what to do,” the first burr said.
I wondered about this not happening when Shyntre was my escort. Happenstance or significance? Maybe I’d find out later. For now, I waited until a few more buas could see what would happen next.
“You’ll stay on this level,” I said, and the two wizards froze in place when I looked each in the eye. “Where you belong.”
Their gazes dropped.
“Um, b-but we’ll assist you, Red Sister.”
A last, desperate shot when, clearly, I didn’t need any. I knew what Jaunda would do if I pulled this shit.
With an annoyed exhale, I lunged, my cloak billowing as I took four, quick moves to stun and hook each bua off his feet. They landed upon their backs on the hard stone; both grunted, and one lost his breath. Four other wizards saw me do it. They stopped, two others coming up behind, and only one was smart enough to retreat right then.
“Back to your rooms!” I barked, my voice hurting their pointed ears, if nothing else.
They scrambled, running the way they had arrived. I gave a few extra flicks to the two on the ground, but the one lingering while his brother still gasped for air, I kicked him in the ass with the hard tip of my boot. He yelped.
“Go! Don’t tempt me in what I’ll do next!”
More scuffing sandals, another door closed, and finally, it was just me and Callitro on the seventeenth floor. I grabbed his arm to drag him to the circle.
“Now don’t fuck us up,” I teased, my voice still rough with aggression.
“Never, Sister!” he gushed assurance.
“Do it.”
Despite the last-moment excitement, Callitro gave me a smoother trip down to the main floor than Shyntre ever had. Could be the battlemage was simply better at this spell. The place wasn’t empty, and we received a lot more looks, but I walked out front this time as I headed straight for the door. Callitro barely kept up with me.
“Wait!” he whispered, and I turned to where his hands would be blocked by my body, reading, *I can’t open the main door. Only those the Headmaster chooses.*
“Now you say?” I whispered.
He could have mentioned that when I asked to be brought down here. What did I think I was going to do, lounge in the waiting area listening to the bua mages natter at me?
I smoothed my expression and signed sternly, *Call your Headmaster.*
Callitro nodded and went for a smooth panel while the three interrupted in their tasks watched, and I stood in the middle of an all-male residence, unable to leave when I chose. I felt awkward but wouldn’t show it.
Still, it was odd that Elder D’Shea hadn’t summoned me yet. I wagered she would have come to take me through that same, small level back to the Cloister instead of having me walk. Unless something had happened unexpectedly, and she was dealing with it.
Abruptly, the main door opened without anyone touching it. I stared at the tall line of yawning blackness beyond before I snapped myself out of it and moved toward it. Callitro met me at the double doorway while the gawkers moved closer with care, as if they wanted to peek outside without getting too close to me.
I shook my head. What did they think they were going to see? Then I paused as I saw the tense expression on Callitro’s face and detected movement at the second gate closest to the Tower.
Oh, yes, them.
The Drider constructs. Not real ones, but real enough that a bua who had sleep terrors about them wouldn’t want to go wandering about the grounds. Callitro wasn’t the only wizard with that opinion, from what I saw. We couldn’t hurt the magical buas, but if one betrayed us, perhaps the Keeper’s Pit was a consistent sentence, and they knew it? I’d have to ask D’Shea.
I did something mindless to straighten my uniform, squaring my shoulders, trying to look and sound official. “Thank you for your aid, wizard. You have your orders. Continue forward as we’ve discussed.”
Callitro nodded, seemed like he had something else to say but was both distracted by the constructs outside and trying to work out my cryptic message. All at the same time. Alright, so his focus outside of battle could use a little work.
Bowing my head, I left the Wizard’s Tower, intending to run all the way back to the Cloister and break a message pellet to my Elder as soon as I got within range. I hadn’t quite made it to the eight-legged monstrosities when I heard someone running up behind me. Turning around, not quite putting my back to the Driders, I identified Shyntre, of all Davrin.
Well, well.
I smiled, but at least remembered not to show my teeth out in the dark. Still and silent, I waited for him to catch up. If he held any fear for the Guardsvrin at the gate, he didn’t show it, nor did he give away anxiety for being outside the safety of the Wizard’s Tower. Indeed, by the time he slowed and stopped before me, this could have been the most relaxed I’d seen him yet, despite the heavy breathing.
Somehow, the older bua still scowled at me. Possibly his “resting” face.
I signed a greeting. *Need something?*
Shyntre held out a dark pouch with one hand, signed with the other. *Take this and give it to the Elder Sorceress.*
*With whose regards?*
*The Headmaster’s.*
Eyeing the size and apparent weight of the object inside, I might guess what it was. Phaelous was one stubborn spider-fucker. Like sire, like son.
Carefully, I lifted the pouch by its ties at the top, tucked it into a larger spot on my belt where I had room. I scanned upward at the massive, empty space above us but for the Tower itself, then behind me, then back at Shyntre with a smirk.
*You seem courageous out here. The rest of them are still huddling at the doorway.*
Clearly, Shyntre could think of nothing he would opt to say. He only shrugged.
*Untouchable or indifferent?* I asked.
As it was, I took this as a sign he’d continue the Game with me. This was a challenge and a tease, opening the way for that future, victorious moment when I got his cock up between my legs again. He had all but confessed to know the Feldeu as I did; maybe he couldn’t help but resist until he was forced to submit. Perhaps the Prime and the Priestesses had trained him that way, and that was the only way he could get it up to violate caits recruited for the Sisterhood, to force her to contemplate something that never happened to us in Sivaraus.
Being forced by a real bua who wasn’t afraid of females.
I watched until Shyntre was back inside and the door had closed, then continued past the guarded gate. I barely felt the creep up my spine from four pair of eyes peering through shaggy, grey hair, thinking over this revealing visit among the sequestered wizards.
I pitched my body into a fast jog. Not only because I had to get back, but because I had renewed energy to burn off before I got there.
CHAPTER 13
D’Shea returned the message as soon as she received mine.
My quarters. Immediately.
Uh-oh.
I paced myself and loped over stone and through crevices, using the well-worn methods for breaking up my trail as I approached my hidden Cloister. Kneeling beside a camouflaged entrance closest to the wing where I needed to go, I disabled the trap, slipped inside, and reset it behind me. Before emerging from the trap lock, I listened for approaching Sisters, certainly for any I didn’t want to explain my way past if they felt like delaying me.
Three Red Sisters walked by without speaking, so I didn’t know who they were but at least now the way was clear. I entered the Cloister and moved fast to D’Shea’s quarters, where she was waiting to let me in.
I smelled the wine on her breath, saw the heavy lids of her eyes, and hadn’t worked through my surprise before she planted both hands just behind my ears and pulled my lips to hers. I froze like a virgin bua, letting her explore my mouth because…
What else can I do?
“Disarm and strip,” she commanded after pulling back. She was pointing to a cleared space on her workbench.
Alright, there’s that.
“On my bed, Sirana. Don’t dawdle.”
At least she knew my name.
As I obeyed, I saw a small pile of shattered glass at the base of the wall across from her desk. On the desk was Phaelous’ ruby ring and a mostly-empty bottle of wine. The glass was missing. Or rather, it was no longer in one piece, a spray of dark spots drying upon the stone.
I sat naked on my Elder’s bed. What has happened since I was in the Tower?
My Elder approached me, pushed my shoulder with one hand to get me to lie back as she climbed onto the mattress. She wore the silky, deep purple robe with silver and red threads which I’d only seen on her inside this space. Kneeling between my thighs, her larger-than-average Feldeu in hand, I watched the Sorceress draw her tongue around the bulb intended to go inside me, then leaned down to do the same on my slit. I sucked in my breath, my head whirling as tremors arose in my limbs. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or anticipation.
Oh Goddess, she’s drunk, I can’t lose control again—
Another moment, the bulb was locked in place. She spoke the magic word and, an instant after that, I felt every stroke of her hand along my phallus. She was eager. Impatient.
“E-Elder,” I stammered.
She climbed over me, her robes askew, teasing my view with only part of one breast. The silk draped over my thighs as her warm, smooth buttocks slid down, her hips settling into place. The tip of the Feldeu ready to receive the plunge down.
“Augh, Godd—” I groaned as my Elder took me.
She rode me as desperate as I had Callitro. I watched her breasts jiggle and bounce, and I clasped helplessly to her thighs, wrinkled the fabric in my grip. My view of her hungry cunt swallowing me was partially obscured by the robe.
“Look at me,” she growled.
Mouth slack, I ripped my gaze away from our pumping, fragrant joining. The Sorceress stared into my eyes.
“Kain?” she demanded.
I shook my head, recalling I had to breathe on my own. I sucked in, filled my chest full to answer. “No. Sirana. Elder, I-I know you.”
D’Shea nodded, satisfied, stoking the fire in her loins higher. Her robe slipped off one shoulder, exposing it and a full breast. Her nipple was tight. I thrust up once, and she fought me over the rhythm. Immediately, I submitted and built a focus instead. Self-control.
Because one of us needs to.
“Nngh, yes, Elder,” I encouraged, touching her only over silk and not her skin. “Feels good. More.”
She moaned, nodding, her balance not quite so sure and her grace suffering from the wine. Her eyes were closed, her focus completely on bringing her orgasm forward without concern for mine. This was fine with me; between the two of us, I would have said she needed it more.
Much more.
She also didn’t need me to speak. To distract.
I laid back and let her use me as she would.
Before much longer, the Elder Sorceress yelped just before she came, her cunt clutching hard then rippling its way along the rod buried deep in her twat. She grunted and ground her hips, fingernails digging painfully into my ribs. She came down, her desperation now shifting up from her lower gut to her exposed chest and getting enough air. Her eyes had been closed the entire time.
I watched her shoulders relax as she remained on her knees astraddle my hips, her body snug around the Feldeu. She licked her lips. Weaving slightly, as if dizzy from her indulgences. I reached out and held her upright by her arms, my eyes still lingering on her breasts framed by wrinkled, elite robes.
I either heard something or felt it. I wasn’t sure, but then D’Shea looked toward her workbench with a bewildered expression as well. She tilted her ear toward it, swinging one leg over to get off me.
“What is that?” she muttered.
I breathed out slowly at the chill of a wet, unsatisfied Feldeu so swiftly abandoned, shaking my head at the annoying buzzing just beyond my hearing. I watched as my Elder searched my belt, found the spot where I had tucked the pouch Shyntre had given me.
Oh, yeah.
“Mm, sent with… best regards,” I mumbled, propped on my elbows, “from Headmaster Phaelous.”
My Elder tugged open the pouch, looked inside, then upended it into her palm. It sparkled in the candlelight, the color captivating yet so familiar. She brought it very close to her face, too close to be wise with an unknown, perhaps, but I had time to notice the metallic silver shining next to the sapphire blue.
“The Dwarf stone didn’t look like this,” she said, seeming less inebriated. “It was mere marks ago.”
“That’s not the stone the Headmaster showed you,” I said, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed to sit up, my cock still jutting up from between tight thighs. “Shyntre worked on that one. He brought it in after you left, but it didn’t have the metal. That’s new.”
“Yes, it looks very new,” she murmured, turning the jewelry over to inspect it carefully. “Just mounted. It’s a pendant.” Her eyes swept over and pinned me. “Did either male say anything, give you instruction?”
I swallowed. “Phaelous wanted me to hold it. I…refused.”
“Why?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Hm. And then?”
“I visited Callitro. And when I was leaving, Shyntre caught up to me and told me to give my Elder that pouch with Phaelous’ regards.”
D’Shea’s face seemed on the edge of some expression I couldn’t define. “Did you look inside?”<
br />
I shook my head. “I guessed that’s what it was. Just the stone, though, I didn’t expect the pendant.”
“No instruction. No context.”
“No, Elder. Both sire and son made a similar comment about us in that regard.”
The Sorceress rolled her eyes and sighed, seeming calmer, more like her usual self as she chewed on the curiosities of the blue stone closed in her hand. “What warning did you feel in touching it?”
I looked down. “The Headmaster could tell it responded to me in a mage-like way, but I’m not a mage. He wanted me to hold it so he could study…something. I figured you’d want to see what happened when I held it, first.”
D’Shea nodded approval. “Good instinct.” She held it out. “Will you? Now?”
I glanced down at my “little head” still peering up at me. “Can you please remove the Feldeu, first? Just in case.”
The Sorceress blinked, then surprised me with a smile as she chuckled. “Ah. Of course, Sirana. Yes, we should control the factors in any test. Open your legs and hold still. Relax.”
Soon enough, the wide bulb stretched out from between my netherlips, and D’Shea and I had made the exchange, magic cock for non-magic stone. I didn’t feel any sort of jolt, no surge or vibration while I held the pendant. I felt calm, and the buzzing in my ears was gone.
I could appreciate the work done on it as a magnificent decoration for any female to wear; it only lacked a small chain or length of cord from which to suspend it around one’s neck. I sensed nothing like the Davrin magic within it or the runes or wards, those complexities I was gradually being trained to recognize.
With me sitting nude on my Elder’s bed, Shyntre’s sapphire was only a quiet, beautiful stone resting in my hand.
“Astonishing,” D’Shea whispered, seeming to take in me and all around me. Maybe she studied my aura, if I had one.
“Elder, wh—?”
“I have a theory,” she said, rushing to her desk as she lifted a finger for me to await her.
I watched as she picked up Phaelous’ ring from next to the standing, green bottle and put it on her middle finger. She spoke a word I didn’t recognize then commanded me.
