It's unfair that ear penetration isn't possible. I should be able to literally, physically, brainfuck someone until they're nothing more than a drooling bimbo sex toy.
I should be able to use my dick to perform a makeshift lobotomy, but I can't.
Another short story from my patreon backlog https://www.patreon.com/JayAury.
Enjoy!
***
Ravel had considered himself fortunate to get an apprenticeship with Madame Moora. Every young wizard had been hoping to be selected to study under the mysterious mistress of the Ivory Tower, but it had been him she’d chosen and sent for.
Yet now, he wondered if it had been a blessing.
He wasn’t sure when the seeds of doubt had first sprouted, but perhaps it had been the very first day he’d arrived at the Ivory Tower, when he’d been greeted by the servitor. He still remembered that pale beauty. A woman of lovely proportions, her figure pale like she’d been carved of marble, and her only attire a loincloth with a belt of silver thread.
He’d stared, shocked at the topless woman, who merely bowed, her eyes lidded and dull as foggy mirrors. “You are Ravel?” she’d said.
“Uh, y-yes.”
“The mistress shall see you. Come.”
The servitor had turned, her perfect ass swaying as she walked away, leaving Ravel to jolt back to the present and hurry to catch up. They’d walked through marble halls so pure white they seemed to glow with an inner light. Other near naked servitors, men and women, wandered about, their expressions empty as they went about their tasks tending the grounds. Any question Ravel posed to his guide was met with blank silence, as if she never heard him, or even noticed him, but merely walked like some automaton along a set path.
They’d moved up through the tower and to a door framed with golden ivy. The servitor knocked twice, and then opened it without a moment more of hesitation, stepping aside and bowing. Taking the hint, Ravel entered.
The study of Madame Moora was a large room filled with tall, narrow lines. The thin windows rose along the back wall and tall bookshelves like pillars were here and there. Madame Moora herself sat in a rounded chair like a tilted ball cut in half, and at the sight of her, Ravel realized he had never seen a more beautiful woman.
Her hair was a deep black and her skin tanned a golden bronze. A slim cloth slipped between her legs from a gown cut so low it was a miracle or, far more likely, magic her curvaceous breasts did not pop out of them. Her face was strikingly beautiful, her eyes lidded, her finger slender as they held open a book before her. She looked up, and Ravel stiffened instantly at her lidded eyes. It was like her gaze had struck a silver pin through him, and a smile slowly alighted her lips.
“Ravel,” she said, rising with a whisper of her dark gown. “Finally. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You may go, Lakia.”
“Mistress,” the pale woman said, bowing low, and Ravel couldn’t help but notice a quiver of pleasure seem to surge through her, the servitor’s thighs tightening as if she had nearly cum right there.
But he had no more attention to spare the pale woman, for in the moment Moora was moving towards him, her gown softly swishing in the silent chamber. “Let’s get a look at you,” Moora said, gently cupping his cheek and turning his head this way and that. “Hmm. Yes. Not bad at all. You are quite cute, my apprentice.”
He felt his cheeks burn at that. “M-madame, I uh…”
“Oh, but don’t worry,” she said, patting his blushing cheeks. “I didn’t decide to make you my apprentice just because you’re so adorably handsome. Oh no. I was very impressed by your new logistical theory of arcane usage. I always try and get my hands on the cleverest of new students. They have such… potential…”
Ravel swallowed hard, the way she lingered on that word making his heart race and jump. “I ah… I’ll t-try not to disappoint you, madame.”
“Good boy. In which case, shall we have our first lesson?”
“A-already?”
“We haven’t a moment to waste, apprentice. And I simply can’t wait to see what clever little ideas you might come up with.”
“Oh, well, I…”
“What’s wrong, apprentice? Shy? Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
“Huh?”
She laughed, a full throaty sound that seemed to reverberate in his groin. “Don’t worry, apprentice. It’s a simple thing. A relaxation technique. Perfect for nervous new apprentices to the fold.”
“W-well…”
“Ah ah! Madame knows best. Now, let us feel the magic within you. Feel the channels of power that flow through you. Follow my finger, apprentice. Follow the sensation…”
Ravel nodded. That… that seemed fairly standard. Magic of course followed certain paths through the body, and certain techniques were common among sorcerers in order to ease the use of their powers.
But he’d never felt one like this.
His breath hitched as her finger slid along his arm, hairs rising in its wake in a wave of sensitive awareness. “Just relax, apprentice,” Madame Moora crooned, pushing in closer, her eyes gleaming like jewels. “Just relax… and follow my voice…”
Ravel realized she was easing him down, and he found himself lying back on a couch he hadn’t noticed before. Like everything in the room, it seemed strangely delicate. Tender. Like the stem of a flower ready to be snapped at the slightest force. Yet it took his weight easily, and Madame Moora’s as she knelt over him, her finger still tracing his body, drawing lazy spiral patterns that tingled and shocked through him like electric wires.
“M-Madame, I…”
“Shhh. Just repeat after me, apprentice. I am relaxed. In control. I am feeling good all over.”
“I uh… I am relaxed. In control. I…”
“Am feeling good all over.”
“Feeling good all over…”
And he was.
Ravel realized he was feeling good all over.
Feeling light, like the mana channels in his body were filled with fizzy water. Bubbles popping and sparkling and making his body tingle from end to end.
It felt good.
So very good.
“I am relaxed,” Moora said smoothly.
“I am relaxed.”
“In control.”
“In control.”
“I am feeling good all over.”
“I am feeling good all o-over.”
“Gooood,” the sorceress purred.
And Ravel sucked in a breath as he felt her hand move lower.
“Keep going, apprentice,” Moora cooed as her finger lazily traced circles around his bulge, spiraling up the swell of his pants.
“I-I am relaxed. In c-control. I am feeling good all… all over…”
“Keep going,” she murmured as her finger slid around his tip, teasing him as his balls throbbed, aching with need.
Ravel continued, his mouth moving almost automatically, all his focus trained on his cock. On how good it felt as her finger slid around and around and around. As she deftly undid the laces. As his cock sprang into the open, twitching and hard.
Moora’s smile deepened. Her delicate fingers wrapped around his length. “Mmm. It seems you still have some… tension here, apprentice. But not to worry. We can fix that.”
“O-ohhhhhh,” he groaned.
“Keep going, apprentice. Don’t focus on distractions. Focus on what matters. Focus on those sweet words. Try and resist, apprentice. Try and resist…”
“Y-yes. Um. I… I am… ah… I am relaxed. I-in con… controooool. I am f-feeling good all… mnn… all over…”
“Good apprentice. Keep going. Keep talking.”
Ravel obeyed, the words spilling out of him in a flood, gasped as her hand went up and down his cock, stroking him slowly. Drawing it out of him. And yet, strangely, he didn’t feel the painful urgency of orgasm. It certainly was there, but it was more like a dull ache of throbbing pleasure. Of teasing anticipation, relentless, constant, making him whimper and groan, wriggling while his mana channels buzzed with the clarity of the mantra.
But there was no way for him to resist forever. Not when a woman of such aching perfection was pleasuring him. Not when it felt so good. So perfect.
“I-I’m relaxed. In c-control. In… In… Ohhhhh!”
He shuddered as he came, orgasm bursting through him like a wave of heat, his mind going white with the pure pleasure that wrapped around him, squeezing him in its embrace.
He sagged upon the couch, panting, watching as Madame Moora’s eyes grew lidded, her lips parting as she breathed in deeply, almost as if she were joining him in his orgasm. She sighed, a shiver coursing through her as she lifted her hand and delicately licked his seed from her fingers. One. By. One.
Ravel watched in dull fascination as she sucked her pinky clean, then turned a radiant smile down upon him. “Mmm. Good, apprentice. I think you will make an ideal student. And no doubt a quick study. Now, I trust you will keep that mantra in mind while you’re in my tower. Right?”
“O-of course, mistress,” he said, chest heaving from his exertion of pleasure.
“Good boy,” she purred, her jewel eyes shining bright. “I think we’ll get along just… swimmingly…”
#
Training in the Ivory Tower was a strange experience for Ravel.
He didn’t have much to do other than practice his arcane currents, and Madame Moora insisted he perfect them before she trained him further.
“My methods are not to be taken lightly, my student. Your body must be prepared for my spells.”
And so he practiced.
And worked.
And trained.
It would have been dull, truth be told. But the longer he focused on his mana channels, the easier it became to just… zone out. He found himself almost floating about the tower when he focused on the mantra. It made him feel so light and empty and perfectly at peace.
But something still worried him.
Though he knew that Moora wouldn’t teach him magic until he mastered her first lesson, that didn’t mean he couldn’t study independently. Or, so he thought. But whenever he opened a textbook retrieved from the tower’s extensive library, he found the formulas so…
Confusing.
This made him uneasy. He’d always been a quick learner. In fact, it was what he’d been most praised for. But now, the words on the page just… slipped away from him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand them anymore. Instead, he grew bored with them almost instantly. No sooner had he read a word than his mind seemed to drift, and he would read the same paragraph almost six times before he caught himself. What was wrong with him?
Sitting at his desk, he slapped his cheeks and shook his head, scowling. He could do this. He could…
“Trouble, apprentice?”
Ravel gasped as he felt Moora’s delicate fingers on his shoulder. He looked back, and found himself staring at the firm curves of his mistress’s breasts, the plunging valley of her collar hinting the tantalizing truth of those bronzed orbs.
For a moment Ravel found himself unable to look away, as if enthralled by those perfect breasts as they gently rose and fell with her breathing, but belatedly he managed to shake it off and jerk his eyes to her face.
“M-mistress? I ah…”
She smiled and leaned over him, her finger touching the page, running along the words. The motion was slow, almost sensuous, and Ravel couldn’t suppress a shudder that seemed to reverberate in his groin.
“Hm. Studying? Now why would you need to do that when your arcane channels remain undeveloped?”
“This is fairly simple magic, mistress,” he said.
She gave him a tender smile, then glanced back at the book. “‘A demon,’” she said, reading as her finger slid along the page, “‘is that most notorious of creature. Their aim is, inevitably, to devour the soul of mortals, and they have any number of means to arrange that. They are powerful creatures, masters of temptation, and have a variety of methods to steal the souls of their victims. Once they have done so, their prey become little more than thralls to their whims. Mindless slaves to their new masters.’”
Ravel felt his blush deepen as she leaned forward, the back of his head nestling against the softness of her breasts.
“‘But though a demon is a creature far more physically powerful than any mortal, there are many ways to best them,’” she continued. “‘The most effective is a spell of sealing, which can be inscribed upon a piece of steel, and upon plunging into the demon’s heart, will banish them once more to the infernal plane.’ My my, apprentice,” she said, giggling softly. “Looking to become a demon slayer?”
“E-every mage should know how to defeat a demon,” he said uneasily. “It’s well known that demons love to devour not only the souls of mortals, but find the magic of mages delicious.”
“Putting our poor sorcerers in quite a state, true,” Madame Moora said, her hand slipping from the page to touch his stomach. Ravel gasped as her other hand joined it, her arms crossing over his chest, pushing him back and against her breasts. “Demons do love the taste of a mage’s magic. And they love the taste of a willing one’s far more. And yet, sorcerers still try and summon them. Do you know why, apprentice?”
“Because… because demons know much f-forbidden lore,” he gasped as her hands massaged his chest, her fingers teasing down him. “And can share it if… if bound properly…”
“But it’s so very hard to properly bind a demon, apprentice,” she crooned as her fingers found their way once more into his lip, teasing his cock through his pants. “So very hard. They’re so skilled at distracting. Tempting. So many sorcerers never even knew what they were doing. Do you know why?”
“I ah… I d-don’t…”
“Because they were too… distracted.”
Ravel moaned as she undid his pants, drawing out his cock and into her waiting hand. Her palms were warm as she began to stroke him, lazily pumping his cock as he gasped and quivered in his seat.
“They just couldn’t focus. Which is why, dear apprentice, we must repeat the mantras. Must ease the flow of mana. Can you do that?”
“O-of c-course, mistress.”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure I believe you. I think we should… test that… On your knees apprentice.”
“Mistress?”
“Obey.”
The word seemed to vibrate through him. Before he knew it, Ravel had slipped out of his chair and was kneeling on the floor. He looked up, dazed, only to find Moora sit on the edge of his desk, her legs parted, her finger teasingly opening the front of her slinky gown. His eyes widened as she brushed open her dress, revealing the lush folds of her pussy, her breasts nudging aside the fabric to reveal her firm, heavenly tits.
“Let’s test your focus, apprentice,” she said, smirking down at him, her finger gliding up and down her cunny, stroking herself slowly. “Show me you won’t easily get distracted. Lick me, nice and slow.”
“I… I…”
“Come now, apprentice. If you do, I’ll even teach you a binding curse.”
A binding curse? That was very advanced magic. Ravel hesitated, but then, many sorceresses had stranger methods of instruction, and learning such a potent magic would be a tremendous boon.
“Yes, mistress.”
“Good boy. Now, get to it.”
Ravel tried not to focus on how the words ‘good boy’ made him feel. He tried to distract himself by leaning in and running his tongue along her slit. Her taste tingled on his tongue, shooting down into him with a shock of ecstasy. He shifted where he knelt, his cock throbbing. He’d utterly forgotten it was jutting out of his pants until he felt Moora’s foot rubbed against his manhood.
“Goooood boy,” she moaned, the underside of her foot pressing his cock back against his groin and stomach. “That’s it. Lick mistress like a goooood boy.”
Ravel groaned as her toes slid around the head of his cock, rubbing and teasing his tip, his hips rocking to further pleasure himself against her. His face burned bright pink with the humiliation and pleasure he was receiving.
“The mantra, apprentice. Don’t forget the mantra. Keep you… mmm… nice and even.”
Oh, yes. Of course. He had to… had to repeat it. But not aloud. No. His tongue was… was much too busy. In his head. Yes. He could do that. Yes… He was relaxed. In control. Feeling good all over.
He moaned as the words echoed in his mind, his cock throbbing with new sensitivity. The words seemed to wash over him, soothing the tension in him, leaving him composed. Calm. Able to appreciate every wonderful moment of her foot rubbing against his cock. Every delicate tingle of her taste as he lathed her pussy with his tongue. He whimpered, squirmed, relishing every moment.
“Keep licking… apprentice…”
Yes.
Yes, of course. Must keep licking.
Licking mistress.
Adoring mistress.
Showing her what a good boy he was.
What a good apprentice he could be.
Because he was relaxed.
In control.
And feeling good alllll over…
His tongue lapped, loving, stroking, teasing, adoring her pussy. The mantra swirling in his mind, enabling him to focus so easily. To discover all of Moora’s favorite places. Every spot that made her gasp, jolt, quiver in sweet pleasure.
Yes.
Yes, he was relaxed. He was in control. And feeling so very good aaaaaall over.
“Yes. Oh pits yes. Apprentice. I’m so close. Cum with me, apprentice. Cum with mistress my good boy. My good toy. My… my… Ohhhhh!”
Her thighs tightened around his head, squeezing him as she came. Her juices splashed onto his tongue, the sharpness of her taste pushing him over the edge, Ravel groaning in utter pleasure as she gave him a taste of her orgasm. The sensation seemed to shoot from his mouth, crackling down his veins, bunching in his balls before… before…
“Mmmmm!” he groaned, tongue buried in her pussy as he came, his body bucking as his cock spurted, coating her toes, his shirt and his lap in his seed.
Moora cooed, lifting her foot from his lap and wiping her toes on his pants. “There we are. Excellent work, apprentice. I’m quite pleased.”
“Ohhhh…” Ravel groaned.
Moora chuckled and rose, turning about and grabbing his pen. She scribbled something on a sheaf of paper, then strolled away.
“Best of luck with your studies, apprentice,” she called over her shoulder.
Ravel wasn’t sure how long he remained kneeling on the floor, but when he finally managed to pull himself back to his feet, he found a spell of binding written on the waiting paper. He gaped at it, able to feel the power in that spell even as he held it. Remarkable! He smiled, moving back to his book, endeavoring to read once more.
And didn’t even mind that only the mantra echoed in his thoughts.
#
Ravel frequently wandered the halls of the tower when he hadn’t anything else to do. Still, Madame Moora hadn’t taught him any magic beyond the mantra and that one binding spell.
“Not until you’ve mastered the first lesson, apprentice,” she’d crooned.
And surely he was getting close. Madame Moora was training him almost every day. At any time during his studies he might suddenly find his mistress beside him looking to test him, gently pressing him down to his knees so he might show her how good he’d gotten at… focusing.
“Mmm…”
Ravel stopped, startled. He looked around himself, wondering where he was. He’d wandered far this night, and he realized was in the Hall of Pillars, the ivory rows lining the room like a forest of petrified trees.
“Ah…”
He blinked, realizing the sound had stirred him from his thoughts. Curious, he moved among the pillars, drawn to a soft whimpering and moaning deeper in the room.
“Ohhhh…”
Not sure why, Ravel halted behind a pillar and peeked around it.
One of the tower’s servants was pressed against a pillar, their slender body quivering, their simple attire loose around them and disheveled. It was a man, his eyes rolled back, his pale skin flushed hot with lust, quivering with ecstasy.
Against him was pressed Madame Moora, the lovely sorceress holding the man’s chin, her lips locked with his and her eyes lidded, gleaming gold with a fel inner light.
But that wasn’t what made Ravel gasp, suck in a breath.
No.
It was the horns growing from her hair.
Ravel’s jaw fell slack as he watched Madame Moora hum in delight, pressing closer to the quivering servitor, her lips moving against his and… and dear gods, Ravel could see it. A wispy essence passing from him to her, sucked into her hungry mouth in fluttering wisps.
She… she was drinking his soul!
Madame Moora broke the kiss with a gasp, licking her lips, catching the last teasing tendrils of essence. The servant slumped against the wall, breathing hard and fast, glassy eyes gazing up at her adoringly.
“Good boy,” she cooed, stroking the man’s chin. “Mistress is very pleased.”
Ravel’s legs buckled, the sheer power of her words sending a shiver of delight shooting through him, his legs wobbling as the strength threatened to leave him. He gasped, and saw Moora’s head turn his way. He jerked himself back behind the pillar, heart pounding. Had she heard him? Did she see him?
He heard no sound, then a low chuckle. “You were delicious, pet,” he heard Moora purr. “Mistress is most pleased.”
“Th-thank you… mistress…” gasped the servant.
Steeling himself, feeling returning to his legs, Ravel pushed himself off the pillar, hurrying away as quietly as he could.
A demon.
His mistress was a demon!
#
Ravel took a deep breath and stroked the etchings he’d made in the dagger.
It had been a nerve-wracking few days. He’d avoided Moora as best he could, trying to think of what to do. Reporting her would be a fool’s errand. She was far more powerful than him, and could easily track him down if he tried to run. The servants would be of no help. Now that he knew what was happening, it was clear their essence was being drained constantly, feeding the hunger of their succubi master, their minds lost in the ecstasy of their servitude to her.
He’d since seen the servant she’d fed on that night. He lived, so it seemed Moora left her pets a portion of essence, only drinking enough to reduce them to mindless obedience to her. They would be of no help. A thrall to a demoness would fling themselves on his sword before they’d let him harm her.
So he’d worked.
It had been hard. So very hard. The words to magic came only with the greatest of struggle to him, but his need compelled him until, at last, he’d done it. Finally he’d managed to carve a spell of banishment onto the dagger.
He picked it up, took a deep breath. It was time. He had to slay her. To let a demoness exist in the very heart of the mage’s circle couldn’t be abided. But he could do this.
He could.
Rising, clutching the sheathed dagger in his hand, he poked his head out the door of his chamber and glanced around. The halls were empty. Cold moonlight washed down through high windows to play along the ivory stone, making it glow. Slipping out of his room, Ravel hastened through the halls.
Moora’s personal chambers were high in the tower, but were unguarded. What need had she for guards in the very heart of her power? Uneasily, Ravel opened the slender, towering doors a crack and peeked through.
Moora’s bedchamber was a strange thing. It was a large, round room of pale stone, the only furnishing a large round bed that could sleep a dozen people, but only held one. Moora lay atop the dove-white sheets, sprawled lazily upon it, utterly naked. Utterly defenseless.
Trying to calm his pounding heart, Ravel eased open the door without a creak. Even the soft sound of his bare feet padding on the cool stone floor made him flinch, fearful Moora would awaken.
Yet he reached the side of her bed without incident. His heart pounding like drums in his ears, he climbed with the greatest of care onto the bed and moved towards her. He found himself looking down on Moora, her face radiantly beautiful, hair splayed out around her head in a careless wave of silver. Her full, plump lips parted. Her firm, ample breasts peaked with dark nipples rising and falling with her steady breaths. Rising and falling. Up and down. Up and down…
No. No! Focus. He had to focus! He yanked the dagger from its sheathe, raised it up.
And found her eyes open and looking at him.
The shock of it seized him. He trembled, staring down at her as Moora slowly propped herself up on her elbows, smirking at him. She tilted her head, glancing at the knife, the runes along its length burning red with sorcery.
“My my, apprentice. Is that for me?”
Ravel opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Lazily, Moora tilted her head back, her eyelids low, her smirk growing. “Well then, I suppose you must have discovered… this…”
Ravel sucked in a breath as Moora changed. As horns grew from her head and her pupils sharpened to cat-like slits against a background of molten gold.
“D-demon!” he gasped.
“So I am, my dear apprentice. So I am. And now, I suppose you must slay me. It’s the right thing to do, after all, and you even have that delightful dagger all made up. What a pity it would be to see all that hard work go to waste. So go on,” She said, pushing out her chest. “Do it. Seal me away, my sweet apprentice.”
She couldn’t be serious. Was she mocking him? That smirk seemed to say so. He grit his teeth, drew back his arm again to plunge his blade into her chest.
Between her… her big… soft breasts…
“Why, whatever is the matter, apprentice?” Moora cooed, pushing forward more, sitting up. She raised a hand, gently stroking his cheek, sending a shiver racing through him. “Do you perhaps… not want to seal me away? Do you not want to banish your lovely mistress from the material plane? Have you, perhaps, become too… obsessed with me?”
Ravel grit his teeth and pushed the dagger towards her. But it was like he was fighting against invisible weights. He didn’t even have to try so hard. He just needed to let gravity do the work. Plunge the dagger down. Impale this gorgeous unholy beauty.
“Don’t you want more?” she breathed.
Ravel sobbed, his dagger an inch from her heaving chest, her breasts rising, falling. So perfect. So firm. He trembled against the strain of it.
“Don’t resist it,” Moora cooed, leaning in closer, her infernal gaze like molten gold, seizing his eyes. “Just relax, apprentice. Just surrender. Just do… what you need… to do…”
Ravel shut his eyes tight, his head pounding. He was relaxed. In control.
And feeling good all over…
As those words rushed through him, unbidden, but irresistible, he felt the strength bleed from his arm. The dagger fell from his loosened fingers and hit the bed with a soft sound. His eyes lifted open.
And when he saw Moora’s smile, his heart soared.
“Good boy,” she cooed, leaning in closer. “My good… obedient… boy…”
Her lips met his, and Ravel groaned at the soft sensation. The gentle press moving against his own. Her tongue sliding against his parted lips and inside his mouth. Her skill put his own experience to shame, conquering him like a master swordsman against a child armed with a stick. He shuddered, arching as she rose further, her breasts pressing against him. Firm yet soft. The perfect contrast. Just like her. Beautiful. Desirable. Deadly. A suicide of ecstasy in her arms that he couldn’t back away from.
Ravel found himself toppling back, falling among the downy white sheets. Moora loomed above him, smirking, her bronzed body faintly glowing in the moonlight, her horns glistening like onyx as she arched over him, her hands pinning his arms down.
“Poor little wizard,” she crooned as she mounted him, Ravel whimpering as her pussy rubbed against his shameless bulge. “You came so far, but it was all for naught. But don’t despair, my darling boy. You came closer than any other of my many… many apprentices. Oh yes,” she laughed, her breasts lazily swaying as she ground him beneath her. “I’ve had a great many. All the servants in my halls had sought to learn the ways of magic from me, only to discover that their true purpose was to serve me. Their mind drained away by my power, their bodies and souls snacks in which I might indulge at my pleasure.
“And you will join them,” she crooned, letting a hand brush his blushing cheek, letting him feel the cool sensuousness of her touch. “Just another of my mindless slaves. My eager, obedient playthings, your mind filled with nothing but serving me. Your body a toy for me to indulge in. Feed on. And you’ll love every minute of it, my dear apprentice. You will adore it. Helpless to it. You didn’t know it, but you were mine the moment you saw me. And yet you had the pride to think you could stop me. The idea that you might resist me.” She giggled, leaned down. “How cute.”
“I… I…”
“Shhh,” she murmured. “Just obey, my sweet apprentice. Just give in… to your lovely mistress…”
Her lips again met his, and just the feel was enough to set him off. Ravel groaned, quivering as he came, surrendering and spilling his seed in his pants. The pleasure rocked him, drained him, sucked him down into the ecstasy of surrender.
Her heard her chuckle above him as her lips broke their torrid kiss, her tongue teasing over her lips. “Good boy,” she cooed. “But a slave should never wear more than his mistress.”
She snapped her fingers and Ravel gasped, his clothes incinerating in a flash, leaving him nothing but his nudity. His cock was instantly pressed against the warm groove of the demon’s cunt as she moaned, continuing to grind him beneath her, and even though he’d just cum, he felt his balls ache with more to give the salacious succubus.
“Mmm. There it is. Oh you poor, silly young mortal. You never had a chance. It was ordained you’d be mine the moment you saw me. But that’s okay. Some women love a challenge. But I savor the triumph above all else. And it’s time… to show you what I mean…”
She leaned down, kissed him again. And as she did so, her hips rose, his cock sprang straight up, and she lowered herself, sheathing him within her.
“Mmmm!” Ravel moaned, his eyes rolling back as the glorious warm, soft tightness of her pussy swallowed him. As she lazily rocked her hips, riding atop his aching, needy cock.
“Good boy,” Moora whispered between kisses. “Surrender to mistress. Surrender your soul. Feed it to me, my slave. Give mistress what she wants.”
He groaned in despair, for he knew he could not beat her. Not now. Not like this. Her lips descended upon him once more, her kiss seeming to swallow her world.
And even the chance to fight… slipped away.
Ravel moaned, shuddering, arching beneath her as her lips moved against his own. A numbness began to seep through him. A sense of loss as she kissed him, as if she were stealing the breath from his lungs with the intensity of that kiss. His head grew light. Spun. His vision danced.
But he was calm.
He was relaxed.
Because mistress was in control.
And as he remembered this, an ecstasy oozed through him like nothing else before. The sense of loss that seemed to steal from him instead filled him with a floating pleasure. As if every cell were buzzing with a sensitive delight. Overwhelming him in a wave.
“Mmmmm,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back as Moora rode his cock, fucking him into the bed. Taking her pleasure from him in rolls of her hips. His essence flowed into her. The misty gasp of his soul seeping from his lips as he was fucked to damnation.
And he loved it.
Loved it more than sanity.
Than freedom.
Than anything.
Moora lifted her lips from his, smirking down at him. “How was that, my slave?”
“M-mistress,” he gasped. “P-please. Mooooore!”
“More?” she cooed coyly, slowing her thrusts, grinding herself atop his cock teasingly. “But my darling, if I do, I’ll turn you into nothing more than my mindless slave. My helpless, hopeless thrall. Do you want that? Do you really want mistress to claim that?”
“Anything,” he gasped, quivering with desperation, his orgasm aching on the edge. “Anything! Please! Mistress! N-need it. Need you! Pleeeease!”
Moora laughed, and even her mocking mirth was like music to his ears. “Ah, well, if my pretty boy begs for it, how could I say no?”
And still smiling, her eyes burning like polished gold, she kissed him again.
And he came.
Ravel wasn’t sure if it was when she sucked out more of his soul or his orgasm that turned his mind white. That made him shudder with the high of pleasure unlike any he’d known before.
He didn’t know.
He didn’t care.
Because it felt so good.
It was like he was floating in a heavens of endless bliss. Sinking among white clouds that cradled him. Soothed him. A void of thought. Of will. Of anything. No suffering. No anger or fear or hate. Merely perfection. Merely pleasure.
And ss he descended, quaking with pleasure back into the world of reality, his vision cleared, and he saw…
The most wonderful, beautiful, glorious woman above him.
“Did you enjoy that, slave?” she cooed.
He shivered at her words, his cock throbbing anew, already hard with desire. “Yes, mistress.”
“Would you do anything for more?”
“Yes, mistress,” he gasped, smiling dumbly.
She laughed. “Good boy. Ah,” she sighed, smirking. “I do so enjoy you wizards. Just… delicious. And you’re quite the tasty one to be sure. I can’t wait until I can snack on you again, slave.
“Mmm. But until then, I’ll have to get you set up with your new loincloth. My slaves can’t be wandering around fully clothed, after all. That would be so very wrong.”
Ravel nodded eagerly. “Yes mistress. Wrong.”
“That’s what I thought. But you ruined my nap, slave. And I know you want to make it up to me.”
He nodded even faster. “Y-yes, mistress! Anything!”
“Good slave,” she said, rose off him and turned around. Ravel stared, enraptured as her perfect, soft bronzed bum hovered above his face. “Now, get to work.”
She descended atop him, and Ravel moaned in bliss as he was buried under the softness of her gorgeous ass. Instantly his hands were on her hips, pressing her down further as his tongue delved into the tightness of her rear, his lips lovingly kissing her, his tongue lavishing her puckered star with adoration. Slowly, steadily, pleasuring her like a good slave.
“You need to fix this,” Cole said, in a low, upset voice.
Tyrus, who had opened the door expecting a package, took in what had happened. Cole, who was Candace’s fellow lawyer, who worked with her as a legal observer for protests, back before nightfall. Candace—no, Candi Lee. She had her glasses off.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Tyrus said, realizing. Something must have happened at the protest. Candace must have had her glasses broken somehow. And Cole—bless Cole, he really was a stand-up guy—had brought Candi Lee home, rather than take her to the hospital and assume she was concussed. “Come on in. You all right, Candi?”
Candi Lee pouted. “Cole is being a dink.”
Meaning, Tyrus deduced, that Cole hadn’t let her suck his dick. “Cole took care of you. You should thank him.”
More pouting. “I’ve been trying!”
Tyrus ushered them into the living room. “Maybe not like that,” he said, “unless he wants it.”
“No,” Cole said, “but you need to fix this.”
Tyrus sighed. “Do you think I haven’t tried?”
“What?”
“Having her glasses off, that’s a stupid trigger for her bimbo side. We did it when we were about nineteen, in college together, and just figuring out that we were both hypno-kinksters. I’ve been trying to refine the trigger for ten years now, but Candi Lee still comes out every time the glasses come off, and you know what that tells me?” Tyrus didn’t wait for an answer. “It tells me that Candace really likes this particular trigger, that she’s probably worried on some level that I’m going to take it away from her and make her be serious and smart all the time, and so she’s held onto it.”
“She’s held onto it,” Cole repeated.
“Not consciously. But yes.”
“I don’t wanna be Candace all the time,” Candi Lee put in. “All those big words. Candi can just watch them pop—pop—pop—it’s like bubbles, the thoughts just go pop—and they’re pink. I think they’re pink. Do you think my thoughts are pink?”
“I think you have lovely, bubbly pink thoughts,” Tyrus assured her. He sat down. “C’mere, sexy.”
Candi Lee practically threw herself into his lap.
“She said that you hypnotized her to be like this.”
“Yeah, but—hypnosis is cooperative.”
“I’m co—op—thing you said,” Candi Lee pointed out. “Want to see?” Her hand crept towards Tyrus’s fly.
“Hands to yourself, sexy. We’ve got a guest.”
“Well, yeah,” Candi Lee said, “and Candace has wanted to have him fuck her for just ages, and he keeps saying no.” She bounced up and down, suddenly, which didn’t do good things for Tyrus’s equilibrium. “But you’re here now, and maybe you can both fuck me! What do you think? You could take my ass, and Cole could take my cunt—or my mouth? Cole, do you want my cunt or my mouth? I don’t want you in my ass because I don’t know how big you are, yet, and sometimes that’s an ouchie. I think you’d like my mouth, I’m really good at taking a big, long cock there—“
“Candi,” Tyrus said gently, “let us talk for a minute, okay?”
Cole shifted position, and Tyrus noticed that he had a tent in his trousers.
Well. If Candace had been wanting to fuck him for “just ages,” Tyrus wouldn’t stand in her way. How to explain the situation in a way Cole would understand? “Look,” he said. “The thing about Candace—and you would know this if you had gone to school with her—is that she has no idea how to turn off. She spent her childhood identifying as a ‘gifted kid,’ to the point where she used to sort of teeter constantly on the edge of nervous breakdown. I guess a lot of people would think her way of dealing with it is extreme, but it works. She enjoys it. And this is still her, you know. Just another side of her.”
Cole shook his head. “Candace isn’t interested in—“
“In you? If Candi Lee says it, you can believe it. It wouldn’t be a new thing for us. We’ve been actively poly, as well as kinky, for at least a decade. We’ve had parties where Candi Lee is the party favor. And believe me, I’ve rarely seen Candace so relaxed and happy than the night after.”
Cole had an interesting expression on his face. It was upset, but Tyrus thought it was more that he thought he should be upset.
Good. “I understand that you may not want to go along with what Candi Lee wants,” Tyrus said, his tone just short of coaxing. “But she’s sincere, and she’s happy, and she’s not being coerced—and as soon as I get her a spare pair of glasses, when she goes back to Candace, she’ll be interested in the more intellectual side of having a relationship with you. Sometimes, Candace really likes it when Candi Lee pushes the issue and acts on some impulse that she has. Candace overthinks, constantly. Candi Lee just does things that make her happy.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Cole hedged.
“Snacks!” Candi Lee said abruptly, jumping up. “I’ll get you snacks. You can eat them while I blow you, if you want.”
“You’re a good hostess,” Tyrus said, “but a good hostess doesn’t blow someone until they’re ready, does she?” Candi Lee pouted. “Yes, get snacks, love. To thank Cole for bringing you home.”
Candi Lee practically skipped into the kitchen.
“I’ve got to thank you for taking care of her,” Tyrus said sincerely, as Candi Lee went through the door. “I think she could get home by herself, but she’s flighty, and distractible, and very eager to please. She could get into some trouble.”
Candi Lee emerged from the kitchen again, breasts out and resting on a tray with the snacks.
“Candi,” Tyrus said sternly, “you need to put those away.” He turned to Cole. “I’m sorry. As long as you’re here, she’s going to keep attempting to seduce you, and she has all the subtlety of a truck. I think that’s part of why she needs the Candi Lee personality. She can just do what she wants.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of her,” Cole said.
Tyrus couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t leaving.
Well, good. In about an hour, if Tyrus was any judge, he and Cole would be balls deep in either end of Candi Lee, with her whimpering and moaning and letting the pleasure boil off what little was left of her mind. In the meantime, he had to be gentle. Careful. Make sure that Cole knew he wasn’t taking advantage. “If anything, she’s the aggressive one,” Tyrus pointed out. “Take a mini-quiche, anyway. Candace cooks them.”
Cole did.
My buymeacoffee link! Right now, I’m donating anything I get to a Black Lives Matter related fund.
Thinking about choking someone on my cock watching as they struggle to get enough air in, they slowly get more and more lightheaded, thoughts blinking out of existence and brain cells dying as they try and force oxygen into their lungs.
Can you think of a better way to create an emptyheaded fucktoy?
I NEED to make someone stupid and dependent on me, I'm drooling precum at the thought of someone staring up at me, glassy eyed and ignorant, head empty. I want to make someone so dumb they rely on me for everything...
