The Ancient Magnus' Bride *Closed for UPH &Me*

[amazonkass29]

"How would you like to make some real money, girl?"

Leanna looked up from behind the counter. She was at the gas station where she worked overnights. It was past three in the morning when a large man in his fourties came in to pay for some gas. The question made her eyes widen before she shook her head. She was dressed in an old t-shirt, her dark hair in a messy bun. Dark circles had begun forming under her eyes, she wasn't in the mood to be messed with tonight.

"What would I have to do for this money?" Leanna asked wearily. The man just laughed, "Just go along with it, what do you have to lose? The great benefits of working graveyard shift?"

The man slipped the money for his gas, and an extra hundred on the counter. On top of it laid a thick business card.

Infinity Auctions
Supplying Ancient Artifacts
Since 970 B.C.E.​

Before she could say anything, the man was gone. Leanna couldn't help but snort, even as she went to toss the card away, something stopped her. A phone number had been neatly printed on the back of the thick card, and before the night was over she had set up an appointment.

~~~

Leanna hadn't known what to expect, but this hadn't been it. She had signed a contract, been promised millions, and now she was naked and in chains. The sounds around her told her there were other women there too, but she was soon blindfolded.

A large auditorium was filled with people of all walks of life. All wore cloaks and hoods, but every one of them exuded power. There was a tenseness in the air, and the magic that filled the room was almost tangible. A line of women, all chained in a line were paraded around the room. Women of different shades and sizes, all with something to offer.

Leanna would be dismissed by most prospective buyers as too sleight for high-value slave work and written off by most as a sexual object--with little use aside from being pretty and having a potential to bring pleasure. But she's still untrained, compared to the more valuable sex slaves and seems timid about everything. She's not expected to sell for much.

But the withered old man, buried deep in weather faded robes spent more time than most, not examining her breasts or ass like so many of his peers--the old man stood tall, pressing his yellow-nailed thumb against her forehead and muttering some ancient gibberish that only he heard or understood...

"Sir," one of the shirtless Overseers interrupted, "the bidding is about to begin, please go around to the bidder's lounge."

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell dripped the final drop of blue fluid into the vial of swirling purple, undulating an otherworldly glow and bubbling wisps of white smoke out onto the alchemy table around his experiment. But even his slow, precise movement was too abrupt—his form, which had become more fluid as his abilities surpassed the limitations of his mortal coil, took more and more effort to contain, even in the monstrous form he now occupied.

The large, beastly hands were clumsy, even when he was careful.

The tiny drop made a splash—barely more than a ripple, but within the delicate balance of this fragile amalgamation, even this small displacement interrupted the reaction and starting from some place in the middle of the glass vial an orange spark erupted, shattering the vial and belching a sudden cloud of acrid black smoke, setting small fires across the alchemy table as the solution broke emulsion at irregular intervals.

“Damnit!” S’worrell shrieked, sweeping his large arm across the surface of the alchemy table, scattering the orange, smoking clumps of muck onto the floor to burn themselves out in the sand.

Deep down, he knew what this meant, but he’d been working hard to deny it. An apprentice was something that he never wanted—humanity was more of an inconvenient pest problem that he did his best to ignore, he knew that a human apprentice would be best suited to the kind of work he needed. In short, he was in the market for a slave.

“Vo’rukunae, Hol’doruum Kak’vul!” the ancient magus chanted from a deep, rolling register in his chest as his hands signed symbols and drew designs in the air, “Galing’oovo Mak’truch!”

When he’d finished chanting and gesturing, a portal opened between his arms and he stepped through, into the foyer of the elaborate auction hall.

The moment he ported away from his alchemy lab, the ten-foot dome of breathable air that he conjured around himself collapsed and the salt water devoured the candles and torchlight, plunged the rest of the lab into darkness as the bottom of the ocean devoured the lab back up.

With some effort, S’worrell spun a loose-fitting cloth disguise around himself, styling his exposed parts as an old man with a long grey beard. Stereotypes were safe, people’s eyes passed right over them like scenery.

Maintaining even this painfully average visage was a labor—the instability of his ancient magic searing at the hinges of this disguise. The power within him was loathe to hide, even for a purpose.

His gnarled walking stick made a resonant tapping sound as he dragged his back leg, locomotion of this disguise a new kind of despair on its own. No time to waste. He leaned heavily on his cane, dragging his leg into the slave pits, they would be starting any minute—but S’worrell knew what he was looking for.

He closed his eyes and started softly chanting, letting his latent magic seek out like kind. To his relieved surprise, one of these pathetic, shanghaied mortals resonated quite strongly with supernatural potential. No time to waste. S’worrell hobbled over to her and began doing a reading.

"Sir," one of the shirtless wranglers interrupted, clearly not recognizing who he was addressing, "the bidding is about to begin, please go around to the bidder's lounge."

“What do they call you, little one?” S’worrell asked the girl, removing his thumb from her forehead.

“Finding a taste for the flesh in your ancient years, are you? Carnal delights by the light of night?” Oberrion, the Wind-Whisper interrupted again before the shy slave had a chance to reply, “she’s got good tits for how slender she is—too tall for my tastes though. I might buy her just to deprive you of her though.”

The Magus left his head back laughing, his grey moustache upturned like Salvadore Dali, elbowing the slave girl he had on the end of a leash, urging her to perform a forced laugh at her Master’s pathetic joke.

“Do what you will, but impede me at your own peril,” S’worrell was losing his temper, long claws began to protrude from the fraying sleeve of his disguise. He began hobbling away, actively fleeing the company of his hated rival.

Oberrion tugged his slave’s leash, following S’worrell into the lavish balcony where rare delicacies and vintages of wine that most didn’t know existed awaited the gallery of immortals.

“S’worrell, my word…” Aelynn gasped as she saw him, “its been so long…”

The female Magus, clad like an elegant beauty, rushed over to drape the train of her exquisite gown over the claw, hiding it from Oberrion and the others.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to seek out an assistant.”

“My dear mentor… why—”

“One who won’t outlive me.”

Anger crossed her face suddenly and she shoved him away, snatching back the train of her dress. “Happy bidding, then,” she spat.

The girl who he'd read was being brought onto the stage.

"Five million!" S'worrell raised his gnarled staff, hoping to end the bidding all at once.

 

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Leanna had started to shiver as she stood in line with all of the other slaves. Her body, thin from hard times and malnourishment, wasn't used to being on display. Random hands, some rough, some not, touched her and caressed her. Leanna turned her blindfolded head this way and that, but she was rooted to the spot. No matter how hard she tried, her feet wouldn't lift off the ground. It was as if her body simply refused to obey her command.

Leanna felt a shiver run through her as she heard someone shuffle closer. She couldn't describe the feeling, but it made her want to shrink away and hide. A finger pressed to her forehead as a question was asked of her.

"Le..." She managed before another voice chimed in. It seemed, Leanna had a whole other host of things to worry about. The people around her spoke about her as if she weren't there. ~I guess I need to get used to that...~ She thought to herself as she bowed her head. Was she to be some sort of sacrifice or sex slave? Another shudder went through her as the feeling she'd experienced, left as quickly as it had come.

Within moments of the men leaving, Leanna felt a yank on her chain as the sounds of people taking their seats echoed in her ears. The auction was starting, and the buzz in the room was palpable. Three women were auctioned off for varying sums of money, usually close to a million.

Leanna was led on stage with a yank of the chain, nearly stumbling as she stepped onto the dais. The tittering laughter from the crowd quickly died out as the opening bid echoed through the large hall. A gasp escaped some in the crowd as they looked for the source of such a large bid.

Leanna couldn't be sure, but the voice sounded like the one who'd spoken to her before. The auctioneer banged his hammer for some semblance of quiet before he confirmed the bid. "Five million is the wining bid. Enjoy your purchase." The hammer sounded again as Leanna was pulled from the stage.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell’s intuition about his rivals was correct.

Though neither Oberrion nor Aelynn wished to purchase the tall bean-pole of a slave, they’d intended to bid on her just for the sake of bidding S’worrell’s price up—intended it only, because as soon as he’d made his bid, a sudden and intense crackling magic emerged from his staff and froze the entire audience in briefly suspended, halted by invisible but crushing pressure—squeezing them from all directions, rendering them immobile until the gavel struck and everyone was released all at once.

“Bastard!” Aelynn hissed, having dropped her crystal wine glass after being startled back into a free range of motion.

“You can’t do that! It’s forbidden!” Oberrion whined, shaking his gnarled old finger in the air and tugging absently on his slave’s leash. One side of his moustache had fallen down, making his face resemble a tilde symbol ~.

“File a grievance,” S’worrell huffed, dragging his leg through the ornate lobby, toward the Cashier cages, “but the day I let you lecture me on right and wrong may be the day earth falls out of space and into the sun.”

Oberrion’s lip curled back in disdain, but he had no quip to strike back with. S’worrell seemed to have at least one secret on everyone and Oberrion’s long, tawdry history left more than a few opportunities for blackmail.

“You’re a cold bastard, ‘Rell,” Aelynn sniffled, her clear, blue eyes welling with perfomative tears.

“It’s Magus to you,” S’worrell halted at the door, looking over his shoulder, “you lost the right to nicknames when you tried to rob me. Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I? Being so consistently reminded, Magus.”

S’worrell just tucked his claw into his cloak and continued down the ramp to the cages.

“How will you be paying?” the Minotaur eyed him suspiciously, the large brass ring through his nose identifying him as a slave of the auction house.

“Dubloons, Spanish, sixteenth century,” The more human of his hands lowered cracked, yellow nails onto the counter and stacked up an uneven pile of ten glittering, hand-stamped gold coins.

The Minotaur gestured with his hand, curling his fingers toward himself expectantly, they were over-charging him—perhaps taxing him for his use of his powers. He begrudgingly dropped two more gold coins onto the counter, beside the stack.

“Go on then,” the Minotaur snorted, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was pocketing the extra two coins.

S’worrell went through a heavy door, back to where he saw his purchase again, being held by the shoulders.

“Do you need a collar?” The shirtless overseer from before asked.

“I’ve got one,” S’worrell sighed—unsure which he despised more, being recognized or not being recognized, “here, you put it on her.”

S’worrell was still hunched over his clawed hand, passing over a red, leather collar with the basic collection of enslavement enchantments woven into it.

“You want to name her?”

“Her name is Lee,” S’worrell nodded, confident that he’d heard her correctly, “anything else?”

“She’s all yours,” the overseer smirked knowingly, handing over the leash, “have fun.”

S’worrell said nothing, he just snatched her hand in his claw and struck his cane against the ground. That one strike teleported them suddenly and directly into the inner sanctum of S’worrell’s main laboratory and library.

The great chamber was black—exquisitely carved volcanic rock and lit at intervals by the faint, orange glow of still-active lava tubes which also served to effectively heat the expansive, subterranean complex which stayed consistently around ninety degrees.

“Welcome to your new home, Lee,” S’worrell released her hand once they were both safely teleported into his stronghold, “you can take any of the rooms down that hall. For now, I want you to make a list of things you’re going to need to make your stay here pleasant…”

S’worrell’s strength was waning, there came a terrible-sounding crack and the front of his bestial skull form began to protrude past the wrinkled cloak. He tried to hold his disguise together, but it was no use and the effort of trying caused him to cough a splatter of blood past his bestial maw.

“Excuse me…” S’worrell managed to croak as his disguise melted away and he doubled over, transforming painfully back into his beast form.

The last scrap of faded cloth fell away from the Magus’ heaving, muscular back, leaving a creature in the place of the old man.

“My name is S’worrell, but you may call me Master—or Sir, if there is an urgency that limits your ability to properly address me. But mostly, just Master will do.”

S’worrell wasn’t used to this. His last apprentice had been Aelynn and that hadn’t gone well… he hadn’t cohabitated with another living being in decades—maybe centuries.

“I’m sure you have some questions for me… please,” finding his feet again, S’worrell lowered himself into a tall-backed chair made of volcanic glass and covered by a zebra skin, “ask away.”

 

[amazonkass29]

The blindfold over Leanna's eyes was finally undone. She thought she would feel better knowing what was going on around her, but she was wrong. The types of creatures that walked around her were one's out of myth. She tried to keep her mouth from falling open as she spotted what looked to be a half man, half lion. Leanna hadn't really done well in school, but she swore it was some kind of Sphinx.

She had realized by now that she had been lied to. She wasn't going to be given any of the money that had been bid on her, and she wasn't sure if ending up as a sex slave, or someone's meal, made up for it. Leanna supposed it was just her luck. She always found herself ending up in dead end jobs, and horrible relationships. She saw other's lives and just didn't understand why she didn't deserve to be loved and taken care of.

Leanna had spent most of her life in a dead end town that no one ever left. And if she hadn't taken that business card, she would have ended up blowing her brains out from the sheer mediocrity of her life.

Leanna felt herself shoved from behind by a large man, he escorted her through a set of heavy doors to wait on her new owner. A sigh escaped Leanna as she lowered her head, only for it be jerked back and a silky black robe to be shoved into her arms. Her chains dropped from her wrists as if by magic, and Leanna pulled the thin robe over her lithe frame.

When she moved to adjust the nonexistent neckline of the robe, a strong hand gripped the back of her neck to the point of pain. A hiss escaped her as her bodyguard yanked her to stillness. "Do. Not. Move." He ordered, and Leanna went still. It was only when the heavy doors they were facing, opened, that the man moved his hands to her shoulders.

Leanna could feel the pain in her neck still when she realized the withered old man before her, had purchased her.

“Do you need a collar?”

Leanna blinked and was about to protest when the red leather collar was slipped around her neck. The feeling of it, the feeling it was giving off, made Leanna shudder. She couldn't describe it, but it felt as if a chill had run down her spine.

Whatever she had been about to say, got lost in the turmoil of her thoughts. The men continued to speak, and Leanna could have laughed when the man called her Lee. She supposed, she'd been called worse names in her life.

Before she knew it, the men were done speaking. A claw, large enough to dwarf her small hand, pulled her closer to the old man. She had just enough time to realize he had a claw for a hand before they were somewhere else.

The man released her and Leanna had to stop herself from reeling back. The room was filled with warm light and beautiful carvings, her eyes wanted to drink it all in at once. The robe, which hadn't been warm enough in the cold of the auction house, felt perfect in the warm room. Leanna couldn't help the half smile that came to her lips at the feeling of the warmth on her mostly exposed skin. Her mind drifted for a fraction of a second before she reminded herself she could still be in danger.

When the man spoke, Leanna had to admit she was surprised. She would get a room? He wanted a list of things she needed? She didn't think he had any plans on eating her then, and she felt a bit of relief wash over her.

The relief was short lived however, as she watched the old man before her begin to transform. Her eyes wide with shock, Leanna felt herself backing up a few paces. Every instinct in her was telling her to run, but she remained rooted as the creature seemed to right itself and speak once again.

It had a name, S'worrell and she was to call him Master. Leanna nodded, still in disbelief as she watched him sit in a beautifully carved chair. Only then did she move closer to him, only a few feet between them.

"I..." Leanna frowned before nodding to herself, as if trying to sort out the warring thoughts in her mind, "Where am I? Who are you? WHAT are you? And are you planning to eat me..." Leanna blinked and hastily added, "Master?"

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

If not for the cold, bleached façade of S’worrell’s skeletal faceplate, she might have seen him crack a smile. His beady red eyes softened some as his own physical pain subsided and he could be more receptive to what she was feeling. He didn’t need psychic abilities to observe that the girl was terrified. Though her eyes seemed to faintly resonate a strength—even a timid kind of excitement at the angular, reflective panes of volcanic glass that formed the towering cathedral ceilings—over fifty feet high at its tallest points.

S’worrell laid his palm flat on the long, lava stone banquet table, sitting up on hand-carved claw feet. As he raised his hand from the stone, an ornate, crystal goblet rose up from the surface of the table—the cup perfectly clear, reflecting the light in a halo of jagged, rainbow reflections around the black, lava glass stem and stand. An old-looking earthenware pitcher rose on its own, tipping gently to pour a narrow stream of perfectly clear water into the glass. Condensation formed almost immediately on the outside of the glass, the water supernaturally cold in the heated chamber.

“Please, sit. Drink. I’ll answer your questions in order. Right now, you’re in my primary stronghold somewhere more or less under the Hawaiian islands. This facility is quite spacious, but if you ever start to feel claustrophobic or otherwise oppressed by living under ground, let me know and I’ll offer you respite. I am S’worrell, a magus—to answer who and what in a broad stroke. My kind and I have walked the earth for ages—full eras before the higher chimps started making fire or planting crops. And no, I will not eat you—but you should know that I do own you.” S’worrell lifted a second glass from the table and let the pitcher fill it before taking a somewhat awkward sip, lacking lips.

“That collar around your neck binds you to me. It’s my hope that you never have to learn the full scope of that object’s power, Lee. Simply obey me, do as you’re told and show appropriate obeisance and we can hopefully avoid too much of the carrot and stick routine—if you’re familiar with the phraseology,” S’worrell wiped the underside of his chin with the large sleeve of his jacket.

“I am older than you can imagine and I possess knowledge beyond that of your entire, fledgling species. If you can please me and do the tasks I will require of you, your time in bondage can be quite pleasant—rewarding even. When my work is complete, I intend to grant you back your freedom.

“If, on the other hand, you choose to fight my control and indulge the myth of escape—your time with me will be significantly less enjoyable. Am I understood?”

After finishing the last of his water S’worrell was recovered enough to retake his feet.

“The guest rooms are this way,” S’worrell gestured for her to follow with his claw, trying not to drag his leg, “they may be a little dusty, it’s been some time since I had company—but dusting would be your job anyway. Your choice—white, grey or black.”

The black room was clad similarly to the main chamber—volcanic glass, angular ceiling, brutalist design. There was a desk, hewn from a single slab of black marble and a supple, dark brown recliner that seemed to be clad in some kind of suede that came from some creature other than a cow. A central, candle-lit chandelier, made from interlocking pieces of coral, provided a warm, soft light that seemed to make the otherwise bleak interior seem inviting.

The grey room was clad in book-matched slabs of polished granite. The desk and bed were clad in cross-cut maple—the light colored wood accenting the reflective walls. The bed was practically swimming in the skins of Arctic grey wolves that must have been as large as horses when they were alive.

The white room, in addition to being maybe fifteen or twenty degrees cooler than the main chamber, seemed to glow in contrast to the dark, buttressed hallway. The most startling feature of the white room was a long, chimney-like opening at the highest point in the ceiling, which seemed to reach all the way up to the surface, perhaps the only place in the entire stronghold that offered natural light. The skylight hovered over the round bed, dressed in a full polar bear skin—the head still snarling at the foot of the bed. The desk was soapstone and the chair resembled a beanbag chair—if not for the impossibly soft, white, fur coating on the outside.

“Do any of these appeal?” S’worrell glanced back at Lee, making eye contact for the first time since the auction house, “anything conspicuous by its absence?”

 

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Leanna couldn't keep the look of awe from her face as she watched S'worell conjure ice cold water for her. When he mentioned for her to sit, Leanna realized there was even more of beautiful room for her eyes to drink in. She stepped closer to the table and slid a pale hand along it's surface and took up the sweating chalice. Even though she knew it was going to be cold, the feeling of it in her hand startled her.

Leanna took the seat offered to her and held the cup between her hands as S'worrell began to answer her questions. While he spoke, she studied his face...or lack thereof. The skeletal appearance, Leanna found, didn't really bother her. What did was the fact that she couldn't read anything of his face, no emotion or annoyance, nothing. Leanna kept the frown from her features as listened. Maybe reading him would come with time?

She sipped the water and realized she was actually really thirsty. By the time her new master spoke about the collar on her neck, Leanna was trying her best to pay attention but not stare at him. She nodded when he talked about her obedience and Leanna felt herself nod at the creature across from her.

She'd finally set down her cup when S'worrell finally told her what he was. She was glad she knew, but she still had no idea what most of what he was saying meant. So there was magic, Leanna could get that. And what she'd seen at the auction told her mythological creatures were real, so why couldn't this man be an ancient master of magic?

Leanna didn't know if it was the fatigue setting in, or some effect of the collar, but she almost missed when S'worrell spoke of eventually freeing her. When he spoke of what awaited her if she didn't aid him, Leanna couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine, but she nodded that she understood.

As S'worrell stood and beckoned Leanna to follow, she was on her feet without hesitation. She couldn't help but notice he limped, even for all his monstrous height. Leanna frowned but followed him to view the rooms.

The thing that struck Leanna the most was the startling beauty of each room. How was it they could be beneath the ground and have such...exquisite things. She could have any of them, and Leanna was sure she had to be dreaming.

When the tour of the rooms was done, and S'worell looked to Leanna, he might see the tears that were shining on her cheeks. The magus might have had his own reasons for purchasing her, but Leanna was sure she was getting the better end of the deal. Most of her life had been spent living in run down apartments with barely running heat, and now, it seemed, she would never have to worry about a roof over her head.

"I...they are all very beautiful, it's almost hard to choose." Leanna paused and thought for a moment, "I think I'd like the black one...Master." She didn't know why, but the feeling of the room had felt warm and almost comforting in it's own way. Leanna could already imagine curling up in the chair with a book almost immediately.

"Also...my name is Leanna...but if you'd prefer to call me Lee, that's fine too."

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Human beings were indeed strange creatures.

It wasn’t hard to discern that Lee—or Leanna as turned out to be the case, was very well pleased with the guest quarters. In spite of what S’worrell could only assume were her genuine feelings of happiness and gratitude, her expressive, brown eyes were shrink-wrapped in tears as though she had beheld some great tragedy. The emotionality of mortal beings defied explanation.

Uncertain of what her emotional reaction might require of him, S’worrell ignored it and continued to welcome her as the far end of the hallway swelled from the center, burgundy, red, orange and then yellow—the lava flow responding in real time to the needs of the occupants, filling the hallway with fresh, black lava rock as though there had only ever been a black room on offer.

The motion of the lava flow had increased the heat in the room to somewhere just above discomfort, but it dissipated quickly as the lava in the hallway cooled back down to ambient temperatures.

S’worrell rapped his knuckle twice on the desk and then, like dozens of squirming, white maggots knitting themselves together, fibers seemed to squirm out of the porous, pockmarked volcanic rock of the desk—forming page after page of blank, white paper, still rough, like hand-pressed paper to better hold ink. The pages stacked themselves about twenty leaves high and then a lava glass inkwell bubbled up from the corner of the desk and audibly filled itself with what appeared to be black ink.

With a flourish, S’worrell snatched a feather out of the air, it was a tail feather from a striped-tail hawk. Using his long, sharp claws, he cut the base at a forty-five degree angle and plunked it into the ink well.

“That should be everything you need for your list…” S’worrell was visibly working at thinking what else she might need, “and I may continue to call you Lee, if it’s all the same to you. What do your kind call it? A pet name. Would that please you?”

He inwardly hoped that she didn’t intend to make a habit of correcting him—but he had asked, so there was no cause for discipline. Not this time.

“Oh!” S’worrell cried out suddenly, a thought just now occurring to him, “you’ll need… um, facilities. Of course… I suppose you’ll be sharing the main bath with me—at least until I can design one for your private use.”

With that, S’worrell gestured at the far wall like he was shooing flies from a picnic, at the gesture the wall began to glow orange and then recessed backward, forming a spiral column that led up to S’worrell’s Master bath, en suite to his bedroom.

“For now I’m sure you’d like to take a nap before dinner. It’s your first night, so I won’t ask you to cook—but at some point I expect you to assume the responsibility of meals. I’ll be back…”

S’worrell departed the room all at once, his limp seeming to have improved with his time spent under ground. When he returned he bore a crystal pitcher of cool, spring water—just recently teleported from a gentle, snow-clad spring in the Rocky Mountains. Under his arm her bore two heavy-looking, leather-bound books. The embossed gold letters on the spine read French Cuisine: an introduction and The Bent Spoon: Telekinesis for Beginners.

“If you have trouble sleeping I’ll expect you to have these read by next week—but the list is still your primary command,” another gesture of S’worrell’s hand dropped a black, velvet curtain over the doorway, offering some semblance of privacy, “for now, I’ll grant you some time to acclimate to your new space. Unless there’s something else you need.”

 

[amazonkass29]

Leanna couldn't hide the unabashed astonishment on her face as she watched what was three rooms, suddenly just melt down to one. The ease with which S'worrell wielded magic was unbelievable to Leanna. She didn't have any other experiences to go by, she couldn't think of one single instant in her life that had felt remotely magical. And now she was practically swimming in it.

As S'worrell conjured the things she would need to make a list, Leanna tried to keep herself from exploring the room. His words about a pet name caught her off guard, but Lee nodded, "Yes, Master." She was getting used to the title, and she knew it would soon become easier to remember without having to pause at the end of her sentences.

His sudden "Oh!" nearly made Leanna jump. She hadn't even thought of a bathroom or what one would look like down here. She could only imagine it was just as beautiful as everything she'd seen so far. "Thank you...Master." Leanna spoke with a nod as she watched S'worrell effortlessly create a path in a solid wall.

His mention of a nap made Leanna realize just how tired she was. How long had she even been awake by now? There was no way to tell what time it was so far underground. Leanna thought she might put a clock on that list S'worrell had mentioned. She hugged her arms around herself as he disappeared, seemingly walking better.

The thought of cooking didn't bother her, she knew a few recipes, but she was sure S'worell would inform her on his tastes. Even as the thought occurred to her, he returned with books and a pitcher of water. Leanna had to fight down the laughter that threatened to bubble up within he as she read the titles. She didn't really get the impression S'worrell would take kindly with his slave cracking a joke.

When he offered to leave, Leanna gave him a timid smile, "Thank you Master. I think I have everything. Thank you for the books. I'll get them read."

Leanna watched him leave through the black curtain and turned to face her room. Every facet of the space seemed to try to call attention to itself, and within seconds of S'worell leaving, Leanna had pulled one of the dark, furred blankets from the bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Grabbing the cook book from the desk, she shuffled over to the giant recliner and let it swallow her thin figure. The warm blanket around her, Leanna got through almost a whole recipe before her mind began to wander. How had she been so blind all of her life as to not see all of things she had in the past 24 hours? Not even a hint. Her train of thought soon derailed as she felt her eyes getting heavier.

When Leanna woke, she woke slowly. The warm blanket around her made her mind feel like she was moving through a fog. It took a few full moments before she remembered everything clear enough not to panic, and realized S'worrell hadn't come to fetch her yet. Leanna unfolded herself from the chair and moved over to the desk. The paper was such a stark contrast to the desk and Leanna realized he'd left her a quill to write with.

Leanna set her face into a look a determination, she'd never used a quill, she'd only ever seen it on television, but she was going to try.

Her handwriting was neat but splotchy as she composed her list. She needed clothing, the type didn't matter, but she needed size smalls. She included undergarments, not sure if S'worell would even consider those as clothing. Toiletries, and a shoes in a size 6. When Leanna finished her list, it barely filled up half a page of the thick paper.

A frown came to Leanna's lips, she had added a clock, though she wasn't sure she would need it always being underground. She had thought to put a cell phone, but she knew there would be no service this far underground, and it would be useless. She bit her bottom lip as she thought hard. What did she always want but couldn't have?

A library. She didn't put it on the list, but once she finished the two books S'worrell had given her, she would inquire about bookshelves in her room. Leanna had always loved reading, but dead end jobs didn't leave much time for literary pursuits. Maybe now, when she was attending to her new Master, she could finally lose herself in a good book.

With a sigh of frustration, Leanna stabbed the quill back into the pot of ink and moved back to the recliner. When S'worell would come to fetch her for the meal, he would find her sifting through the cookbook, marking pages for things she wanted to try making. Her skills at cooking weren't horrible, and she was sure with enough prep time the overwhelming dishes in the book wouldn't be so hard.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell had some trouble deciding what he thought Lee might like to eat, so he may have gone slightly overboard. A perfectly clear Consume broth to start with, cleansing the palate and providing a tangible introduction to her learning about French cuisine. A modest but fresh salad of young arugula, cherry tomatoes and toasted pine nuts—the tomatoes grown in S’worrell’s own above-ground greenhouse, tossed in a light vinaigrette. Trout almondine, another French staple for the fish course—traditionally served with the head on, but somehow S’worrell thought Lee might not like it served that way, so he removed the heads—setting them aside for stock broth later. Then there was chicken cordon bleu, to keep up the French theme, served with grilled, white asparagus and potatoes au gratin. Then, as a nod to local delicacies, an entire Luau pig occupied the center of the oversized table—main course and centerpiece.

Candles were lit, a few bundles of tropical flowers placed in slender, crystal vases and at last, S’worrell nodded at his own handiwork. It would do.

Lastly, he retrieved the two servings of crème Brule from their bain-marie bath in the oven, glittering the top with brown, cane sugar before conjuring a small blue flame between his fingers to melt and crystalize the sugar along the top of the custard dessert to make a crispy surface over the top.

Perhaps it was too much, he thought at last—but he could keep any leftovers for another time.

“Lee?” S’worrell gently peeled back the curtain to her bedroom, uncertain why he was so nervous to interrupt her, “dinner is ready, if you please.”

Releasing the curtain, S’worrell moved back to the table, taking up his own place at the head of the table, but leaving the dozen or so other seats open, all with their places set with identical lava glass flatware and silverware that seemed to be trimmed with real gold.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I may have made too much,” S’worrell shrugged, serving himself some of the fresh salad to accompany his soup, “after dinner I’ll show you the bath. I could use your help washing my back—unless that makes you uncomfortable?”

Was this nervousness?

How very strange. S’worrell could literally move mountains, but somehow, this petite mortal was making him nervous. Why did he want to please her so? She was, after all, his slave. He adjusted his tone of voice, more in response to his own thoughts than anything Lee said or did.

“Eventually you will be expected to share my baths.” S’worrell set his jaw, confident that his adjusted tone was more authorial than he previous tone.

“Then before bed, I’ll show you the library—but try not to get carried away. We need to make a trip to the surface tomorrow to get you whatever it is you need. How is that list coming, anyway?”

 

[amazonkass29]

Leanna had been a few lines into what seemed to be a particularly interesting recipe involving preparing a cow's brain for consumption, when she heard the flutter of the curtain at her door. S'worrell somewhat kind words summoned her to dinner, and Leanna wasn't sure what she was in for. Sure, he had given her book on French cooking to read through, but she wasn't about to expect a feast.

Setting down her book, Leanna straightened the robe she was wearing and made sure she didn't look too disheveled before she exited the room and made her way to the dinning room.

Leanna was not prepared for the sheer amount of food that had been prepared for her. Everywhere she looked, there was some mouthwatering dish she'd never encountered. She wasn't even sure what she would want to try first. Her eyes drank in everything before finally settling on the flowers on the table.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I may have made too much.”

It was almost as if Leanna had forgotten she wasn't alone with all this food when he spoke. At S'worrell's words, a small smile came to her face.

"It's more than enough. It all looks so delicious, thank you Master." She couldn't help the full smile that came to her face when she looked back at all the food. It was then that she saw the place settings. Unless the army S'worrell had intended to feed showed up, Leanna had a feeling he'd been considerate enough to give her the option of where she would like to sit.

Without much thought, she walked the length of the table and sat in the chair to his right. It would be silly to be shouting down the table, and Leanna had a feeling her Master wouldn't have been pleased about her sitting so far away.

When he spoke of a bath, Leanna couldn't help but anticipate what a luxurious experience that would be. She waited until he served himself to pick up her spoon to try the broth before her. She'd nearly gotten it to her lips before he mentioned her washing his back. Leanna couldn't help but wonder just what his back looked like. His form was so towering, she was sure she would have to at least kneel in the tub to do a good job.

It surprised Leanna to realize she wasn't completely repulsed by the idea. True, he could make her do it if he wanted, but as he had mentioned before, was there really a point in fighting against her enslavement? He did seem to worry if it would make her uncomfortable, but Leanna shrugged. "I hope you have a sponge on a stick or something...Master." She tried to joke.

His sudden change in tone told Leanna that wasn't a good idea. "Of course, Master," she added before sipping at her broth. The delicate balance of flavors made Leanna want to hum in happiness. She was sure everything on the table was going to be just as delicious.

S'worrell's mention of a library almost made Leanna choke. Could he read minds? Leanna had to wonder but tried to push the surprise from her face as she moved to plate herself some salad. Never mind that she'd gotten through almost half of the recipe book, how could he have known that she almost added books to her list?

"The list is...well it's done. I don't really have many things that I need, other than clothes...Master." She wasn't sure why she felt so self conscious, but she hoped he would at least appreciate that she didn't ask for a million things. "Since you mentioned a library, books are always something I do enjoy, Master." She wanted him to know she appreciated the effort he was making, even if he didn't enjoy her humor.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

If S’worrell had possessed lips, he would have smiled at Lee’s enthusiasm for books. His vast, subterranean library was the proudest of his possessions and he doubted Lee would have ever seen its equal. He was also pleased that she chose to sit by his side, rather than across the table from him—he hadn’t suspected her of possessing a problematic ego and this reassured him of it. Her remark about the sponge, however, did land awkwardly with him—not because he didn’t like a good joke from time to time, but because discussing the particulars of his expectations was leading into subject matter he’d been avoiding.

“Lee, I’ve been pleased with your service and attitude up to this point. I believe I made a good decision when I purchased you, so I’m going to be direct with you now. I intend to instruct and train you in the ancient and secretive ways of magic—to make you an apprentice, of sorts. I do this not as charity but as a self-service. I need someone else to utilize magic so that they can help me with things I cannot do myself.

“That said, I do also have carnal intentions toward you. I find you attractive and wish to utilize you for pleasure as well as companionship. If this prospect frightens or disgusts you, I am sorry, but on this, I feel the need to be somewhat inflexible,” S’worrell paused to pour them both wine, a sweet German gewürztraminer which he sipped as quietly as his lipless maw was able.

“I realize that the difference in our sizes and appearances are somewhat… stark, but I still feel things like mortals do. I feel pleasure just from looking at you, because I see your potential and I feel a growing fondness for you—but I do not love you. Not in the romantic way that mortals do with one another—though it seems that romantic love fails about as often as callous disregard. No, I like you, Lee and I have sexual intentions for you—tonight and in the future.”

That bit sat heavily for a moment, until S’worrell cleared his throat, seeking a less awkward sentiment to finish with.

“I’m curious how you feel about your situation, given this new information.”

It had been at least a full age since S’worrell felt anxious or nervous about anything aside from his own mortality. He’d sooner face a legion of corrupt sorcerers than continue this awkward and painful excuse for courtship—but in spite of how miserable it made him to wade through the unfamiliar waters of romance by requirement, Lee’s consent was important to him.

S’worrell inwardly reassured himself that he didn’t require her consent—he could glamour her to do whatever he pleased—but he didn’t want to force himself on her without consent. It seemed crass and beneath him, in ways that ought to have been obvious, but the immortal deemed them profound.

“Does this prospect terrify you? I do hope it does not," what might have been a profound moment was quickly and unintentionally undermined by the painfully audible slurping of his soup from a deep spoon. S'worrell ate so often alone, he was unaware of his failings in table manners.

 

[amazonkass29]

Every bite of her food made Leanna's stomach growl for more. She had almost lost herself to food lust when S'worrell's words snapped her back to reality. She was going to learn magic? Setting down her fork, Leanna tried to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. What if she wasn't any good at it? The possibilities of it weren't even the first thought on her mind as she laid her hands in her lap and gave S'worell her undivided attention.

His next words had Leanna's eyes widening, more out of shock than anything. She hadn't even given a thought to what the hulking form hid under his clothes. Now she was forced to come to terms, very quickly.

She watched him pour them wine as she mulled over what she really thought about the situation. She wasn't terrified or uncomfortable, and his words about love made a sardonic laugh escape Leanna as she picked up her wine and tipped the glass to her lips. Love was for Hallmark movies, no one really fell in love like that, at least no one Leanna had ever known.

A long sip, and S'worell's slurping filled the silence for a moment before she set her glass down and spoke. "The thought...of pleasing you in that way," her eyes were focused on the rest of her salad, she could feel the heat rush to her face. "Doesn't terrify me, so far, you've shown me nothing but kindness, Master."

Leanna reached for her glass once more and took a steadying breath, "I'm sure you'll direct me in how to please you, and I will do my best. Master."

Another long sip and Leanna found she couldn't quite bring her eyes back up to meet S'worrell's. Instead she quietly finished her salad, her mind in a jumble. She had experience in the sex department, but nothing she would consider even close to what was going to happen tonight. She was glad he'd let her nap, because she wasn't even sure what he would expect of her.

Unexpectedly, a wave of feeling slid from her abdomen and settled between her legs. Was she actually excited at the prospect of pleasing....Him? Leanna pressed her thighs together and tried to ignore the slowly fading feeling.

As if to reel her thoughts back in, she focused on S'worrell's promise of teaching her magic. What kind of magic was she even going to learn? And would she become like him, because of it?

Leanna pushed the thought from her mind as she forced herself to focus on the task at hand, getting through dinner after having that conversation

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell nodded in contentment at Lee’s reply. He’d hoped that she felt that way, but he felt much better having things out in the open—despite the brief awkwardness. He finished his soup and moved onto the salad, moving much quicker through solid foods than he had with the broth.

“That’s good, I will instruct you, yes. Open mindedness is the one thing that I can’t teach, and I’m delighted to see that my faith in you was well founded. Though it was never a necessity, I’m growing fond of you, Lee. I’m glad to find you so amenable,” the knife slid smoothly through the tender pork flesh, S’worrell was starting by carving the best part, the face, “I’ll also be instructing you in the ways of magic—as I mentioned. Did you have a chance to look at ‘The Bent Spoon?’”

As demonstration of his sincere satisfaction with Lee’s attitude, he served both cheeks from the pig onto her plate—a reward for her good behavior. The cheeks were the tenderest and tastiest cuts and he knew enough not to try and serve her the eyes—though they’d make a lovely late-night snack for himself, later.

He served her a tidy sampling of the side dishes onto her main plate while she finished up her salad, taking just a little time to use his knowledge of plate artistry to make her plate look immaculate. Starch on the bottom, odd numbers of elements, artistic drizzle of the sauce. When he was finished it looked like something that would come out of a Michelin Star kitchen.

“No matter. Tomorrow we will begin your telekinesis training in earnest. The ability to move solid objects with the mind is the first step to mastering the magical arts,” S’worrell extracted his spoon from his empty soup bowl and wiped it with his spoon, sitting back in his own chair and holding it up to Lee’s inspection, “focus your thoughts, quiet your mind… lend your consciousness to the spoon…”

There came a tense, heavy silence… but the spoon remained untouched by Lee’s thoughts. Perhaps he was expecting too much.

“No matter. There’s plenty of time for spoon bending. By the end of the week, I have no doubt you’ll be doing things like this,” S’worrell reassured her, setting down the spoon.

Then, by way of demonstration, every spoon on the table and formed a perfect ring in midair above the table—then spread into two rings, spinning in opposite directions, then in synchronized patterns the bottom halves of the spoons bent upward, past ninety degrees then back down, deliberately mimicking a kick line of chorus girls. All before settling back into their places, looking whole and solid like they’d never bent to begin with.

“I’m very pleased with you, Lee. I feel… a tender affection toward you that I hadn’t anticipated…” S’worrell wasn’t used to talking about his feelings, bending spoons was much easier, “and I’m glad.”

For him, this was practically gushing.

 

[amazonkass29]

Leanna hated to admit that as she had been a bit intimidated by the other book S'worell had given her. The recipe book at leas had some rhyme or reason to, she had a feeling 'The Bent Spoon' was going to be a little more difficult to get through.

"Not yet, Master. But I promise I will start on it right away." Leanna added as she watched him with curiosity. For such a large, beastly figure he seemed to take great pride in curating a plate for her. She felt herself salivating, even though she had seen where S'worrell had carved her portion of pig from. Normally, she would have been a bit squeamish, but the look of the perfectly cooked meat, wiped away any misgivings she had about eating pig cheeks.

Leanna had been about to pick up her fork when S'worell's request snapped her attention to the spoon between his skeletal fingers. A frown of concentration came to her features as she stared at the metal spoon in his hand. Leanna tried, but there was no movement or give from the spoon.

A sigh escaped her lips, and Leanna was about to ask what would happen if she couldn't bend it, he showed off some of his amazing magic. Her doe brown eyes widened in awe as she watched the antics of seemingly solid metal in thin air, a laugh of surprise escaping her. When the utensils settled back into their original form, Leana touched one, as if still not believing what she had just seen.

S'worell's words brought a blush to Leanna's cheeks, "I'm glad Master...but..what if I have no magical talent?" She'd lifted her eyes to meet his beady red ones, he would see the sincerity in her face. Of all the things he'd presented her with, her not being good at magic was her chief concern.

"I'm sure you're a very competent teacher...it's just, I've never been good at really anything, Master. And I would hate to disappoint you." She squirmed a bit in her seat before reaching for her fork and knife. She wanted to try the pork first, the tenderness of it was obvious even on the plate. As Leanna listened to whatever S'worrell had to say about her fears, she savored the array of tastes on her plate.

Even if she couldn't do magic, Leanna hoped she would be able to earn her keep in other ways. She would learn her way around the house, do the cooking like he asked and please him as he wished. She had a feeling he wouldn't hate her, but the worry of not being enough was something Leanna had battled with her entire life. She was pretty sure she could put up with whatever S'worell asked of her in the pleasure department, and cooking and cleaning weren't too tough, but relying on her own inner power, was where her skepticism reared it's ugly head.

In almost record time, Leanna nearly inhaled all of the delicacies on her plate. By the time she pushed her plate away, nearly all the food was gone, except a few stray asparagus and a tiny piece of pig cheek that Leanna just couldn't force past her lips.

"Everything was so beautiful and delicious, Master..." Leanna told him as she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "Thank you again, I'll try my best to make food of this caliber. You seem to take a lot of pride in it's presentation, I'll have to remember that." She promised him as she wondered how she was going to fit the crème brulee in on top of all of the delicious food that was filling her stomach.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S'worrell nodded, relieved that Lee was not terrified of him. He brought the dessert trays over with his telekinesis, laying one in front of each of them. He broke the sugar surface with the edge of his spoon and an audible crunch. He spooned out three or four bites before deciding that he was finished.

Intending to leave Lee as much time as she needed to finish her dessert, S’worrell began swiping his hands through the air, cleaning the flesh from the pig’s bones as if the beast itself were diving out of a fibrous sweater. The side dishes seemed to pack themselves into compact squares and then a crackling, purple portal opened just above the table. All of the food items leapt up from the table, into the portal as a cold breeze issued out of it, carrying a few rogue flakes of snow into the dining hall. One snowflake landed among Lee’s long eyelashes.

When S’worrell closed his fist, the portal closed—abruptly cutting off the surge of cold air running through the volcanic chamber. Then the heat seemed to grow more intense for just a moment as all the glassware turned molten and dripped upward to rejoin the thick panels of volcanic glass lining the cathedral ceilings.

“I shall go climb into the bath. You are welcome to do whatever you think you might need to do in preparation, then come join me at your earliest convenience.”

Dwelling on the subject would only increase the awkwardness of the thinly veiled request, so with the leftovers safely tucked away in a remote ice cave in the Rocky Mountains, S’worrell made his way up to his room that joined the cavernous master baths.

The bath itself was an actively bubbling mineral spring, set in a natural crater that came from a lava pool that was quickly cooled by a sudden intrusion of seawater. S’worrell noticed the Sulfurous rotten-egg smell for the first time, quickly rubbing his rough palms together over the bath, sprinkling sprigs of dried thyme, rosemary and rose petals into the water, quickly overwhelming the sulfur smell with a pleasant bouquet of warm herbs and rose scent.

S’worrell removed his overcoat and vest, hanging them on the upright rack made specifically for his own, large garments. The dress shirt and slacks were dropped into a wicker basket, exposing his naked frame. He was most like a man in physique—though huge by human standards. The patches of muscular skin seemed to be made of tanned scraps set in-between the jagged shocks of exposed bone that extended his skeletal frame outside of his flesh.

His ribs studded his sides and made spines that poked out down the length of his spine. While most of his joints remained hidden, his arms, thighs, shoulders and shins were all studded with shocks of white bone, stitching itself into and out of muscular, worn flesh.

S’worrell settled into the hot, fragrant water with a sigh, beginning to lather himself with the sweet-smelling soap that he’d made himself from natural ingredients and animal fat. He awaited Lee’s arrival, trying to regulate his heartbeat.

 

[amazonkass29]

Leanna was sure nothing could surprise her at this point, but her face showed her shock as he levitated over the dessert, and it landed gently before her. Following his lead, she cracked the crystalized top and smirked at the sound. Leanna knew that she was going to have to control herself or else she was going to make herself sick.

She only allowed herself two spoonful's, and watched in wonder as S'worrell did his work on the left overs. She was excited to learn how she was going to access those places, to get the ingredients back out. With her spoon still in hand, Leanna tried not to stare as the food disappeared. The chill of cold and rogue snowflakes made her shiver and almost let out a laugh. He could create instant Christmas whenever he wanted, and the thought made Leanna feel almost giddy.

Within seconds of setting down her spoon, beside her dessert, so he would know she was finished, her eyes widened as everything began to melt away and he was soon excusing himself to the master bath.

A lump rose in Leanna's throat as she realized the task that laid ahead of her. She wasn't scared or terrified, but apprehensive. She watched him disappear and for a long moment, she didn't move from her chair. Her face became set with resolve as she stood and made her way back to her room.

Leanna couldn't help but check herself in the mirror, making sure no bits of asparagus were stuck between her teeth. After her quick assessment, Leanna moved to her desk and splashed a bit of water on her face. She wanted to make sure she at least looked presentable.

With one last tug at the hem of her robe, Leanna made her way up the winding spiral staircase. She could feel her heart hammering faster in her chest with every step. By the time she reached the entry to the bath, Leanna's face was flushed, but it had more to do with her own nervousness, than the climb.

She stepped into the beautifully appointed room and tried to keep herself from staring at S'worell already in what served as a tub. The room smelled inviting and the steam rising from the tub all but called Leanna to it.

When her eyes finally did meet S'worell's figure, she took in the stark white of the bones sticking out of him, the way he even seemed to dwarf the tub with his size. For a brief moment, her doe brown eyes met his, before she lowered her head and made to untie her robe.

She wasn't sure why she was blushing, he'd already seen her naked. Leanna tried to will herself to calm as she sild the silky fabric from her shoulders and found a small hook to hang it on. For now, it was her only piece of clothing, and she knew if it got wet, she would be out of luck.

In a few short strides, she was at the tub's edge and lifting her legs over the side. The crater had easily enough room to hold the two of them. Leanna was sure she could do a lap in the tub if she wanted. A sigh of relaxation escaped her lips as her lower half became submerged. She had settled herself in front of S'worell, not sure what he would want from her.

Leanna made a point not to stare, but to enjoy the luxuriousness of the water, "Would you like me...to wash you, Master?" She asked softly as she eyed the soap in his hands, "Is...does any of that hurt?" She blurted out as she nodded to the spikes of bone he was sporting all over his body. "I..I just want to know if I should...be careful of them..."

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

She wanted to know if it hurt.

“Only all the time,” S’worrell sighed, eyes drifting closed in a moment of sincere vulnerability, before catching himself and setting himself upright in the bath, “the bones themselves have no sensation—the flesh in between aches and sometimes bleeds, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers despite her naked body being exposed from under the thin cover of her robe. He tried to offer a reassuring smile in his eyes, lacking lips.

“It might take three mortals your size to cause me genuine discomfort. Your concern is touching, albeit misplaced. I am ancient but not fragile, please.”

S’worrell opened his arms to his young apprentice, subconsciously spreading his legs as well as he made himself wide to let her into the crater filled with sulfurous mineral water, he took her hand gently between his thumb and index finger—knowing the footing of the crater to be unreliable to the uninitiated. As he spread his legs, he unintentionally left his large, pink phallus occupying the center of the tub—imposing its size even from under the rippling water.

It was lighter by plenty than the rest of his flesh, webbed by blue veins and entrenched at the base by a ring of nubs at the base that were the widest point by far.

S’worrell helped Lee to settle into the water facing him, his eyes still hadn’t left hers. Being careful with his claws, his fingertips moved up her slender arm, spreading out over her back. Laying his hands on her body drove home the difference in their size. For how well she’d kept her composure during the time he’d known her, Lee had risen to something quite formidable in his mind—but now, touching her, he was impressed with how sleight she seemed, despite being herself an impressive force.

For the first time, S’worrell understood her misgivings about absorbing his teachings—why she seemed to embrace the yoke of slavery so eagerly. Too many people in her life had seen her as nothing more than small—until she’d internalized and replicated those thoughts on herself.

Touching her made him understand her more deeply. He felt as she felt.

“An empath!” S’worrell gasped out loud, pulling his hands from her body suddenly, knocking the large sea sponge into the tub—the look on her face told him that this was not the reaction she’d been hoping for… was this her power? Was it like a two way window? Had she seen his most private thoughts and intentions? Or was she more of a conduit that could unlock abilities in him? “I’m… I’m sorry. I—”

What could he say? He had a million and one questions for her but none that he could expect her to understand. Telepathy was many stages more advanced than telekinesis. The ability to read or influence emotions was even at the upper end of S’worrell’s ability.

“Do you ever find that you can sometimes read the feel of a room, even without context or evidence? Are you especially adept at weeding out liars?” S’worrell realized that he wasn’t making much sense, “when I touched you just now, I could read your feelings—I read them without even meaning to. On my best day I could maybe do a touch reading with intense focus and rest. I believe that this ability may come from you.”

S’worrell held out his hand in the center of the tub.

“I am thinking of a playing card from a standard deck of fifty-two. I want you to try and read what card I’m thinking of by placing your hand in mine.”

 

[amazonkass29]

The moment of vulnerability S'worrell showed almost shocked Leanna. Not that she had thought he didn't have emotions, but she could almost see the feeling on his nearly featureless face. When he did reassure her that she couldn't hurt him, Leanna made a small nod.

When he took her hand, Leanna found she didn't mind the sensation of the how his claw dwarfed it. She could tell he was taking extra care not to hurt her, because their size difference was so obvious now with them so close. She couldn't stop herself from spotting the large cock between his legs, and a sudden nervousness went through her.

Even as the thought came it disappeared as S'worrell's hand slid up her arm. The sensation caused a small shiver to shudder through her. She had to remind herself to calm her breath. He'd been kind and gentle so far, and had told her exactly what he expected of her. Even so, Leanna could feel the anxiety bubbling up within her. She tried to concentrate on his gentle touch.

She had lowered her eyes when he had set his hand on her arm and his exclamation made her head snap back up, her attention on S'worrell. Leanna couldn't help the look of confusion that came to her features. He had jerked back so fast it made Leanna take inventory of her body. Had something on her skin caused him to react that way?

It took her a moment to realize the feelings of surprise within her, weren't her own. When he apologized, Leanna parted her lips to try and ask him what happened before he continued.

His sudden onslaught of questions had Leanna reeling before she was able to order her thoughts. "I..I sometimes get bad feelings about people..." She offered him as she looked smaller than before.

She had never told anyone about the random feelings she would get from people. Even working at the shitty gas station, she had known when someone was going to try and rob the place, or even if someone was just having a bad day. Leanna had no idea she had absorbed most of those people's emotions like a sponge, and felt worse for it.

If she was being honest, Leanna just thought it was more about dumb luck. People showed it on their features when they were angry or anxious, and Leanna just thought she was good at reading that.

When S'worrell told her he could read her feelings from touching her, Leanna almost didn't believe him. His demeanor seemed excited, and Leanna still wasn't completely sure why.

When he held out his hand for her, Leanna blinked. She had to guess which card he was thinking of? There were so many choices in a playing card deck. With a few seconds hesitation, Leanna laid her pale hand into his. Her palm rested lightly on his when she closed her eyes. She imagined she would have to concentrate to be able to even think of a card from a deck.

With a look of concentration on her face, Leanna bowed her head and tried to think. A soft whisper echoed in the back of her mind, and her face scrunched up as if she were trying very hard to hear something.

A shy, unsure voice issued from her lips as she raised her head, "Is it....the eight of clubs?" She had no idea where the tiny whisper had come from. But as soon as she had concentrated on it, it became louder. All it had said was the suit of the card, and if Leanna hadn't tried so hard, she had a feeling she would have missed it completely.

Her eyes met S'worrell's as she hoped she hadn't disappointed him. But she knew there was no way that could be the card he had been thinking of.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

As Lee’s hand settled into the middle of his hand, S’worrell let his eyes drift closed, tried to typify the emotion of a playing card, to replicate the emotional state of the eight of clubs. He made his mood black, imagined himself leaning into the curves of the rounded edges of the club, the duality of being two doubled twice. When she said the card, he opened his eyes again, gleaming with renewed admiration.

“That, Lee—is worth a whole kitchen’s worth of bent spoons,” his fingertips were moving up her arm again, it was safer for her—he reassured himself, keeping contact between his fingers and his skin to avoid hurting her with his claws, he pulled her closer, his phallus brushed against her leg, “you’re very special, Lee. The rarest of the rare.”

He let his admiration for her resonate through their touch as his had curled over her shoulder, spreading out over her back. He had no lips for kissing, but he nuzzled himself into the nape of her neck as he gently pulled her into his lap. His cock was between her legs now and both hands were spread out around her back.

S’worrell breathed deeply of her scent, letting his tongue move gently against her skin for the first time. When his teeth closed again it was a gentle, affectionate nibble and not a bite. He could feel her anxiousness, but he could also feel that she wanted this—which eased some of his own anxiety. Or was it his?

Opening wider, S’worrell let his broad tongue follow the bowed line of her collarbone, lightly dragging his elongated incisors along her shoulder and back. He wanted to be inside her and he knew that she could feel it. He hoped that he felt some reciprocal feeling on her end, but maybe it was just how badly he wanted to be inside her.

There was a beastly hunger inside of the ancient wizard and he’d been working hard to keep it tightly reigned—but his control was slipping. She knew what he expected of her now, but he left it up to her to put it inside or not.

“I’m so proud that you are mine.”

 

[amazonkass29]

Leanna hadn't expected that her words would ring true, or that the feelings of pride in her would echo through her thoughts so loudly. The only thing that took a bit of the shock away was the feeling of S'worrell's hand sliding back up her arm. The physical contact between them was causing surges of feelings within her that Leanna was too confused to sort through.

When he pulled her closer, Leanna felt the silkiness of his cock brush against her leg. Nothing in her was scared, and now the only thing she could feel through the jumble of emotions in her was longing and admiration. When S'worrell leaned in to her neck, a soft sigh escaped Leanna. She hardly noticed he'd pulled her into his lap until she felt the hardness of his cock between her legs.

The feeling of his teeth over the sensitive flesh of her neck made goosebumps raise along Leanna's arms. Her eyes closed as she sank into the feeling, pressing herself, without realizing it, into his licks and bites. Her hands slipped over his chest, her touch a soft caress along his skin. She didn't know how, but she knew what he wanted. And if she was being honest, she wanted it too.

Biting her lower lip, Leanna reached below the surface of the water and gripped S'worrell's massive cock in her small hand. She wasn't sure how well she would be able to take it, but she knew he wanted to be inside of her. With one hand on the Magnus' shoulder, the other guided the large head of his cock to Leanna's tight entrance.

With a deep breath, Leanna began to lower herself onto his impressive girth, inch by inch. Soft whimpers of pain mixed with pleasure escaped her as she tried to take as much of his thick cock as possible. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes from the feeling of being stretched so tightly, but the pleasure that was starting to push through the pain was more than worth it.

"Is...is that good, Master?" She asked in a soft, pleading voice as she looked up at him. Her hand still on his shoulder, she waited for him to show her what he liked. Leanna had managed to almost take his entire length into her, and he would feel her muscles squeezing him as she worked to try and take the last inch or so.

She'd never felt so full in her life, but now it was the only feeling within her, that and a feeling that something was about to give way and she was going to have no control over it. Secretly, Leanna hoped the flashes of feelings she was getting meant she was in for the pounding of her life. Nothing in the world mattered more in that moment than S'worrell's cock buried deep inside of her.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

“Ohhh yes,” S’worrell groaned from his broad chest as Lee sank herself down onto his thick, massive phallus, “yes, it’s good, Lee. Don’t stop.”

The last two words were rough and almost snarled—a different tone entirely than the erudite, scholarly voice of the man she’d come to know. S’worrell’s world had been defined, bordered and limited by his pain, for so long it was his only company it had come to define him. Now, with his most sensitive inches buried within the impossibly tight, overwhelmingly warm and pleasurable clutches of her quivering, mortal pussy—he was beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

The tips of his pinky and ring fingers on both hands caressed her athletic ass cheeks while his claws crossed safely below her fragile flesh. His thumbs settled into the grooves of her collarbones, brushing her hair back from her neck with the claws of his thumbs, while beginning to push her down, further onto his cock. He cradled her in his large hands like a wounded bird, remaining gentle in spite of the sudden up-thrust of his hips from below the water.

Water sloshed over the side of the crater, sizzling when it hit the stone floor, spilling down to the active lava flow below. Steam rose up around the bath, curling in the air of the low, domed ceiling as his hips seemed to be pursuing their own agenda of slamming Lee’s guts into a smoothie—but S’worrell didn’t want that, she was too precious.

“Argh!” S’worrell groaned, it hurt him to hold back—but he had to, “ah—arghhh!!”

It was unclear whether pain or pleasure was more responsible for the shouted, guttural sounds coming from S’worrell as he leaned forward, steadily tipping Lee back like a teapot being poured. More water, another hiss and more steam. Lee’s back was pressed against a towel that S’worrell had folded and draped over the edge of the tub—and though it was soaked through already, the soft, thick fibers separated the soft skin of Lee’s back from the jagged stone rim of the crater’s edge.

“Hurah! Hu-Rah!” S’worrell’s claws were gripping the edge of the tub tightly now, the sloshing water creating a natural rhythm for his measured but dangerously deep strokes.

His eyes were almost recognizable now, feral and wild. He fucked Lee’s body like she was a thing, looking past her to the far wall as each stroke threatened to fold her in half. The Magus blinked—too hard, he forced himself to let up some, but it pained him. He could feel the bones pressing further through his flesh, leaving ruddy stripes where they had been before, like rings in a porcelain tub.

“Are you alright?” S’worrell forced himself to stop, though the water kept moving and splashed the floor again, “I’m sorry, I’ll try to go slower…”

S’worrell wrapped her in another gentle embrace, as once again, his hips were acting contrary to his wishes as the shoved deeper, forcing all of his shaft inside—on the verge of knotting her.

 

[amazonkass29]

When S'worrell spoke, his tone changing, Leanna knew she was doing something right. With a whimper she tried to ease herself onto the last of his length as his hands slipped over her body. She was sure he could feel every shudder that went through her as her walls clamped down on him.

When his hands traveled to her shoulders, Leanna cried out softly as he pressed her down. She felt so full already when he thrust into her. She had been getting used to the invading member, but the thrust made her cry out in a mix of surprise and pain. When Leanna's gasped breathing had finally returned to normal, she felt herself being tipped back with S'worrell's strong arms holding her firm on his cock.

In the whirlwind of pain and simmering pleasure, Leanna couldn't tell if she was pleasing S'worrell. The sounds he made sent shudders down her spine, and when her back hit the towel on the side of the tub, Leanna tried to steady herself. Steam wafted around them as the water splashed out of the tub, and the sight of it surrounding S'worrell made him look even more otherworldly.

When S'worrell began his thrusts into her, Leanna saw stars. She reached up to try and hold onto his chest, but when she saw him, not even looking at her, her hands fell to his forearms. She held tight as each thrust felt as if it would split her in two. Long moments felt longer before S'worrell seemed to come to himself and cradle her back into his arms.

The sudden thrust of his hips had Leanna groaning in a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Mas...Master....oh!" she nearly squeaked as she felt the nubs of his knot brush against her swollen clit. "I...I can take...it...just....please....slow..." She mumbled. Right now forming sentences was out the window. Her body was adjusting to his cock. Leanna knew she would be sore in the morning, but she would do this for him.

When his hips finally were still, he would feel Leanna shudder as she took his full length again. This time, her moans and panting had more to do with pleasure than pain. She reached up and pressed a hand to the cold bone of his face. She didn't know why, but she felt like he needed to be touched, to be reminded that she wasn't just a hole that needed filling.

Gently, she caressed along the side of his jaw as her body moved slowly along the length of his cock, her rhythm slowly increasing. Her gasps and moans echoed through the steamy room as she held S'worrell's gaze.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

The haunting glow of S’worrell’s eyes faded when Lee cried out, begging him to slow down—he was hurting her. The realization of this was enough to yank him back from his more primal urges. He stopped completely, his eyes back to the red orbs floating in the inky black of his bleached skull—no longer glowing with supernatural, red light.

“I-I’m sorry, Lee—I—” S’worrell might have continued stammering through some flimsy excuse for why he lost control, but when she touched his face he gasped out loud.

Suddenly and all at once, he could feel what she felt—not just emotionally, but physically as well. The sensations that were going through her were going through him at the same time as he was feeling what he felt. He felt her hand on his face and how smooth his skeletal maw felt beneath her fingers. He felt her clenching around him and just how deep he’d forced himself, he instinctively drew back to a more comfortable depth.

It was suddenly as though they occupied one body together, while their minds made a kind of love that even the ancient Magus didn’t know a name for. It was both exquisite and terrifying.

“Y-you’re inside me…” S’worrell sighed, his eyes looking into hers, almost searching for answers, “or am I inside you?”

It was an odd question, given their situation—but the question was more of a rhetorical nature anyway. With this new type of joined sensation, S’worrell didn’t have to wonder what felt good and what would hurt her because he felt it too. As their bodies and minds were so deeply linked, the sorcerer fell into an easy rhythm, matching the ebb and flow of the mineral rich water, made hotter by the diminishing volume of water as it danced from side to side in the smooth stone of the tub.

“I didn’t know…” S’worrell didn’t even know how to give voice to what he didn’t know, but he was certain that he didn’t know it before, “it feels so good!”

His thrusts were smooth and long—but never quite too deep and never withdrawing far enough to feel deprived.

“Do you feel it too? Are you doing this?” S’worrell groaned as he felt something building inside, was it an orgasm? Which of them was cumming? “wait, I need—ahhhhh!”

He cried out in pleasure, conflicted but unable to stop. If he came inside her, the repercussions might be terrible. He hoped that it was her climax and that they might continue, but he still wasn’t sure, even as the air fled his lungs and the red circles of his eyes rolled back into his skull, making the sockets look completely empty.

“So… Good…” S’worrell grunted, his sinew tense below the abused scraps of dark skin, tense from head to toe, uncertainty and intense pleasure at war inside him battling to a stand still.

 

[amazonkass29]

When Leanna had reached out to touch his face, she hadn't been sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't this. Her eyes glazed over as if in a trance, as her mind connected with S'worrell's. She could still feel her body, but her mind was swirling with feelings that she couldn't quite name.

Lust tinged emotions filtered through and she could feel S'worrell adjusting the depth of his strokes for her comfort. His words and questions fell on deaf ears as Leanna let the pleasure of him filling her up, ring through her. Besides, she had less answers for him and more questions at the moment.

Leanna gave over to the wave of feelings within her as her orgasm started to build. Her hand kept contact with the side of his face as he thrust into her over and over. Her body shuddered beneath him as she moaned and whimpered.

The orgasm she felt bubbling up inside of her was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her whole body felt on fire with the feeling as it seemed to cover her in waves of increasing intensity.

S'worrell's words caught her off guard, but when she saw his eyes roll back, she knew he was feeling her mounting orgasm. His strokes increased in speed for a moment, as if Leanna was somehow telling him what she needed.

Within seconds, Leanna was cumming hard on his cock. Her inner walls milked him as her body shook and spasmed. Soft cries escaped Leanna as her body arched at the feeling. Her toes curled and stars exploded behind her now closed eyes. Her orgasm lasted a full minute before she was able to breathe normally and look up S'worrell, his cock still buried in her.

Part of her wondered just what was happening. Had her bad feelings about people evolved into this? She couldn't quite see anything in her mind's eye through her and S'worrell's connection, but feelings flowed down it like a river. Leanna had to wonder if he was seeing her thoughts as well as feelings. Her mind snapped back to the current situation, and she felt a blush come to her cheeks.

"I...I'm sorry Master..." She bit her lip as she looked up at him. She wasn't even sure what she was apologizing for, but she suddenly felt like she hadn't done what he wanted. She had given him all of the tools to make her cum, and she hadn't brought him to climax yet. Her hand dropped to gently caress the skin of his chest, her fingertips tracing along the stretched flesh.