Elden returned to the dining guests to find that none had noticed his or Rosie’s absence, except that the wine in their glasses had fallen a bit low without her attentions.

With the slightest inclination of his will, the wine that Rosie had prepared and abandoned now distributed amongst the twelve glasses as if rising from below. Were any of the guests paying attention, they would have found their minds wandering in that crucial moment, and their senses then certain that nothing had changed.

But none of them were paying much attention at all. They were all finding that the warmth of the wine was settling into a few particular places more strongly than it usually did, but to their credit, the prim and proper group had remained professional so far. Elden licked the backs of his canines. It would be all the more delicious to break their decorum later.

It had been ages since he’d had an excuse for good, old-fashioned mischief. Now that Rosie was prepared for her next role, there was nobody to wheel out the fifth course—brie and toscano with steaming fresh bread—so it simply appeared amongst the existing dishes on the table.

The guests crooned with delight and helped themselves. The private thoughts of a few guests murmured that they ought perhaps to slow down on the wine if they were starting to think that food was magically appearing, but they dared not share notes with their friends lest they be mocked for getting too drunk.

Elden could help them forget that care. They’d soon have little need for it, or any others. He stepped to the head of the table and raised his hand, a matching glass now there.

“Honored guests!” he said, and every pair of dilated eyes turned towards him. These last few centuries, subtlety had served him better, but the moment reminded him of what it had been like to a be a king. He smiled warmly at his subjects, whose pliant wills were now all too ready to turn towards Elden’s regality.

“I propose a toast,” he continued. “To charity, good food, and great friends.”

Twelve glasses and twelve smiles rose to meet the toast, along with a cheer of “here, here!”

Elden inclined his glass towards them. “Rejoice and drink deep the blessings of life.” A little golden thread of magic curled through his words, and the merry revelers did as they were told. Every glass was empty before it touched the table again.

Elden returned to his spot by the door to enjoy the progression of the fifth course.

In truth, he’d suspected Rosie’s mistake before she’d confessed. By the end of the third course, there hadn’t been a soft cock or a dry cunt at the whole table. The guests had done an admiral job of distracting themselves with conversation and commentary. The two men at one end of the table had gotten into a spirited debate about the best cigar cutting method, while the woman closest to the fire was speculating alongside the man with the tree-shaped pocket square about what cooking method might have produced such exquisitely juicy meat.

These efforts were quickly unraveling. The throbbing of cocks against the insides of neatly ironed trousers became to pressing to ignore, and the best one could do with the moan inspired by an accidental brush against a nipple was try to play it off as a reaction to the cheese.

And so the praise of the food took on a distinctly erotic tone. Moans and curled toes rippled down the table as the diners found they could string together no more cohesive a sentence than how good the food was, how incredibly good, oh and by the way, is it just me or is it very warm in here?

The eyes of the man with the blue pocket square fluttered as his fingertips found the tip of his throbbing cock through the fabric of his trousers, muddled mind insisting that somehow this would solve his problem. “So, so good,” he muttered, at his turn to praise the food.

The one man who had not even dared to so much as subtly reposition his shaft, and who was now feeling the pinch of too-tight trousers especially strongly, finally determined that he could not help but retire to the restroom and do something about this. But as he reached for his napkin to disguise his condition from the rest of the guests, he found that it was no longer there. And before he could think much on the fact that he would have sworn it was just there, another wave of arousal overtook him. He flatted his palms against the top of the table, lest he do what he was so sorely tempted to do, and he muttered something about feeling very, very full.

Elden stepped up beside him then, gleam in his eye. “I hope you’re not too full for dessert.”

The man shivered despite himself, mouth parting as a gasp escaped him. “C-clearly couldn’t be more excited,” he said, forcing a polite smile.

“Excellent,” Elden said. “I think you’ll find it’ll hit the spot just so.”

Twelve glassy eyes fixed on Elden as he stepped out of the room.

Continued in Part III

Part 6: Denoument, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 51: Reading Mood

This success emboldened Linza, and she had another idea to share. She’d already given Tanyth their copy and they’d delightfully approved, so she was off to find Grun.

As she’d hoped, she found him in one of his usual afternoon haunts, on the shaded side of a patio that ringed the ground floor of one of the cafe buildings. There was a long, narrow planter just on the other side of the deck, overflowing with dune grasses and flowers. The leaves provided some natural cover from the narrow alleyway that lay just beyond, where staff would occasionally jog back or forth.

In the afternoons, when this side of the patio was totally in shade and the cool ocean breeze cut through the narrow space, it was several degrees colder than anywhere else on the estate. So it was usually empty except for hot-blooded Grun, who wore only his leather shorts, with a leather-bound tome parted in front of him.

She’d hoped to catch him in a reading mood, so she grinned to herself as she strolled up and sat across from him. The table was right next to the planter so that it almost felt like they were sitting amongst the grasses.

His eyes still skimmed the pages, and she’d learned not to interrupt him. Not that he became upset—it was just that a faraway look would linger in his eye. The wind rustled through the cultivated dune grasses and wished she’d brought a cardigan.

By the time he looked up, she was halfway lost in her own daydream.

“Hey. What’s up?” he said.

She pulled a sheaf of papers from her bag. “Just wanted to catch you in a reading mood.”

He quirked an eyebrow, rightly guessing the sort of reading that she had for him.

She handed him the bundle of papers, dense with her tidy handwriting. The first draft was always a messy scrawl, and then the second draft she penned carefully with a special quill that could remember the page and write more copies later.

“Should I read now? Or…”

“It’s up to you.” She hoped he’d read it right away, but she didn’t want to pressure him.

“No time like the present. You sticking around?”

She reached for his book. “Trade me, I want to see what you’re reading.”

And Linza tucked into the first chapter of a book on the history of clay work and pottery. It was more academic than she would have expected from Grun, especially for leisurely afternoon reading, but she’d learned to not be surprised by surprises from the half-orc.

She was just getting to the end of the introduction when she heard him grunt.

Linza peeked at him over the tome. His erection was already throbbing at the front of his shorts. A smug grin pulled at her lips.

He shifted, rearranging himself so that his shaft could lengthen down the leg of his shorts.

And he was only just getting to the juicy bits.

Linza did not think she could be even more smugly satisfied, but she was wrong. As he continued reading, his shaft continued to throb. As he reached his full length, his tip poked out from the hem of his shorts.

He turned over the last page and looked over at her.

She kept the tome between him and her grin. “What do you think?”

“Fuck, Linza, this is hot.”

“Would you want to… do something like that?”

His shaft throbbed emphatically. “Yes. Definitely. Obviously.” He gestured down at himself.

“I’m glad you liked it!”

“‘Like’ is an understatement.” He looked around the patio and alley, which remained empty. “Fuck, Linza, I’m not gonna be able to make it out of here like this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He reached down to rearrange himself again, obviously uncomfortable, and as his fingers touched his shaft, his eyes rolled back. “Fuck…”

“Surely you’re not considering masturbating right here,” she teased.

He looked at her plaintively. “It’s either that or I walk out of here looking like this. If I can even walk…” Indeed, he may not have been able to stand up straight with his shaft so firm and his shorts so tight.

“Oh, we can’t have that. That would be far too lewd,” Linza teased.

“Yeah, so…”

“Well, can’t you just like, go back to reading pottery and cool off?” Linza said.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” She’d planned to torment him a little with public arousal, but she hadn’t actually intended for that to escalate to public sex. Or even indecent exposure, which was definitely happening as his throbbing tip leaked pre-cum on the inside of his thigh.

Linza continued, “Wouldn’t want you getting caught.”

Grun’s cock throbbed hard, and his eyelids fluttered. “You clearly really want me to get caught, talking like that.”

Linza chuckled, amused at how quickly the half-orc could turn from quaintly studious to insatiably horny. “Does anything kill the mood for you?”

Grun laughed wryly. “No. Honestly, getting caught has only ever made me more aroused… Apparently, that tends to be a thing for orcs. There’s not really an ‘off’ switch, just…”

“Just a release valve?”

“Heh, yeah. Spoken like an alchemist.”

She shrugged, still grinning smugly, and put the book down. “So like… once you’re here—” she gestured at his throbbing erection and pleading expression “—you are here to stay?”

He nodded.

“One-way street? Irreversible chemical reaction? Interesting, veeeery interesting…” She tapped her fingertips to her chin.

He rolled his eyes. “Careful, somebody might get the impression that you’re getting off on this.”

“No, no, not at all. I’m feeling fine. I could just pick up my pottery book and waltz on out.”

Grun went to say something, but as he did, he shifted. The sensation must have been intense, because his expression instantly softened as he moaned. “Since you did this to me, can you at least cover for me?”

She tented her fingertips in front of her, eyes glimmering with mischief. The reason she paused was partly to tease him, and partly to take in every aspect of him. The furrow of his brow, the trembling of his hands, the pulsing throb of his shaft trapped in his shorts. “Alright,” she said, pushing to her feet.

She went a couple of paces back towards the entrance of the patio and leaned back against the planter. From there, she could see both the alley and the entrance.

She formed an image in her mind and gestured across the entrance of the patio. She didn’t need to speak, so the only other sign of the magic was a slight vibration of her crystal necklace. A sign strung on rope between two poles formed across the entrance. It read, ‘closed for cleaning’ on the far side.

If anyone doubted its veracity or looked closely, they might notice that it was an illusion. But few would look twice since such a sign actually existed, and Linza had seen it placed as such many times.

She nodded to Grun.

With trembling urgency, he unfastened his shorts and carefully peeled them down around his shaft. His cock was so large, there was no way he’d be able to free himself without basically taking them off. The shorts ended up around his knees as his hand ended up around his shaft, and he sighed like a man drinking water after a week in the desert.

Linza enjoyed her own thrill of arousal. She liked doing this to him. And he liked when she did it. And he liked that she liked to do it. And she liked that.

Grun exercised none of his usual pace or restraint, giving himself over completely to the desire to cum as quickly as possible.

Linza was rewarded with gasps and stifled moans, trembling and vigorous stroking.

Then she heard footsteps in the alley on the other side of the planted dune grass and held up a hand.

Grun forced himself to stop, gripping the edge of the table with both hands. He trembled as pre-cum dripped between his feet.

It was such a pretty picture of desperation that Linza nearly popped her head through the dune grasses and kissed the passer-by.

And then the footsteps cleared the alley, and she nodded.

Grun started again, his expression melting with bliss.

Then his breath caught and quickened, his posture tensed.

Linza’s own heat glowed in anticipation.

He leaned halfway out of his chair and bent over the planter.

Linza enjoyed a full view of his bare ass and the final few strokes that sent him over the edge.

His whole body trembled with the surges as he donated a generous serving of creamy white fertilizer to the planted dune grasses.

Linza locked every curve of his posture, every rope of cum, every one of his heaving breaths into memory. And then, especially, his expression of abject relief.

She let the illusion of the sign fade as he rearranged himself back into his shorts. She handed his tome back to him.

He offered her the sheaf of papers.

She shook her head. “It’s a copy, you can keep it.”

He smiled and tucked the sheaf into the front of his book. “So, about what you said about… actually doing some of that…” His shaft throbbed conspicuously under his shorts again.

Linza snickered. “We’ll talk tonight. If I tell you now, then we really won’t be able to leave.”

“Leave to where?”

“I was thinking we could go up for some tea?”

“Sounds lovely.”

Part 3: On the Job, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 19: Class Dismissed

Primmen continued, but Linza could no longer follow what she was saying. Linza was entirely captivated by the memory of Victor’s prodigious climax, replaying in her head. The expression of sheer relief on his face, how slowly he had tipped over that edge, the sweat that had beaded on his skin in his desperation, the predatory glint in Primmen’s eyes—Linza could have claimed that she was capturing the memories for later, but the truth was that she could not resist the stream of echoing memories that stoked her own arousal to a deafening thunder.

She knew that her face was bright red, knew that the way that she rocked on the edge of her seat was not particularly subtle, but there was nothing she could do about it until the lecture was over.

Tanyth nudged her with their elbow. “You look like you wanna bail,” they whispered.

Linza stiffened. She hissed back, “We can’t! We’re in the middle!”

“So?”

“We’ll bother everyone on the way out.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, I want to stay.” It was true only in that Linza would rather stay than bother everyone as they exited from the exact middle of the lecture hall.

Tanyth unfolded the little writing desk from where it tucked away at the side of the chair and pulled it over their lap. Apparently, they were ready to get studious. But then Linza caught movement in the corner of her eye and glanced over.

Tanyth was stroking themselves under the desk. With the angle of how they were sitting, Linza was pretty sure she was the only one who’d be able to see them.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

They shrugged and winked at her. “Listening to the lecture.”

Linza felt like a trapped animal, heart pounding and breathing quick. But it wasn’t fear that was rising in her, it was inescapable arousal.

She shuffled back into her seat, pulling up her own desk. She made a little fuss of rearranging her bag and her cardigan as she leaned forward into the desk and propped her chin up on one hand. Primmen was talking about how mutual consent was opening a whole new world for the Enchantment discipline and started into an anecdote on how she offered the Enthrall spell for students who were having trouble focusing in her classes and it had worked to great effect.

Linza hoped she looked interested enough to avoid Primmen’s scrutiny as she adjusted her waistband. She was deeply grateful she had opted for trousers that day—a skirt would have made this much harder unless it was as short as Tanyth’s.

Before fussing with her buttons, she pressed her hand over her mound and vulva. Even through the fabric, the simple touch felt so good. Her eyes fluttered shut, but otherwise she remained still.

She managed to undo her buttons and slipped her fingers as subtly as she could down the front of her trousers and underneath her panties.

This had been a mistake.

It felt incredible.

She was so wet, so swollen, so sensitive. Immediately, her whole body was buzzing under her fingertips. How was she going to think of how to stay subtle when she could hardly think at all?

Tanyth nudged her with their elbow again. “What are you doing?” they mocked.

She didn’t look at them. “Watching the lecture.”

Tanyth leaned closer and whispered, “Mhm, yes, it’s very engaging. Just… pulls me right in. Really… deep, just right deep inside all that tight… hot knowledge.” What started as Tanyth teasing her seemed to have become Tanyth spurring themselves on as their voice wavered with their own uncontainable arousal.

She dared not glance over, lest the sight of them stroking themselves render her totally incapable of decision making.

Now that she was finally experiencing some relief, Linza actually found it easier to listen to Primmen again. The professor was now describing how the spell Hold Person could be used as an accessory to bondage play, but that preemptive and thorough communication was key.

Linza wondered if some day she might be up there giving lectures about the creative applications of illusions. And maybe even alchemy. What other spells or recipes did she know that had erotic applications?

Linza’s breathing had quickened and one of the people in front of her turned to whisper something to the person next to her, putting Linza into their peripheral vision. Linza froze. But at the sudden stop in sensation, her whole body quivered. She quickly restarted, forcing her breath to stay even despite the wave of ecstasy.

She was in deep, and not just her fingers curling inside of her to press against her spot.

Like Victor had been, Linza was unable to stop. If she did, she’d give a far more obvious indication of what she was doing than if she continued.

And besides, it felt so good. She was so wet, so ready. Even just the gentle swirl of her fingertips over her clit filled her with electric warmth.

She could cum quietly—she’d at least had some practice with that during her first two years of university when she’d lived with a roommate. But that was in the dark, under her blanket, with the thrumming of the adjacent boiler room drowning out her quickened breathing. Here, someone could look directly at her at any moment.

It was enough to attenuate her arousal, at least partially. But not so much that she was going to be able to bring herself to stop. If anything, she was actually making her predicament worse, because she was building up all the more tension for that final release.

It was going to feel so good. She wanted it so badly.

But how?

She didn’t have much longer to decide. Her heat was building and she couldn’t resist it. She didn’t want to resist it. She was caring less and less about what happened around her, caring less and less about who might see or how they might notice, and she was more and more intent on grasping at the relief that felt so close.

And then suddenly everyone around her stirred. Nobody was looking at her—they were nodding and grabbing their bags.

She searched through her memory of the past three seconds. Primmen had said, “Class dismissed.”

Class dismissed! No! She needed—she couldn’t stop, there was no way—she was so close—though, this could work.

Linza leaned down as if to dig for something in her bag so that her face was towards the ground and not towards anyone. She worked her hand in circles over her clit, her labia, her fingers pressing her spot inside. Her breath quickened with her arousal and she panted as quietly as she could.

And then—she could feel it, so close, the heat igniting, the pleasure blooming, the first expanding wave of relief and ecstasy, her back arching and pressing her shoulder into the desk. She stilled her hand earlier than she normally would have so that she did not shake so violently, and so there was a needy ache intermingled with the relief, though that too was pleasurable. It promised her that she would finish this later.

And so she climaxed right there in the middle of the classroom, bent over her bag and with her fingers buried inside of herself, nobody paying her too much attention.

Arousal still tingled through her, begging for more. But for now, she was adequately sated and feeling much more clear-headed.

Her hand was also soaking wet, and as she carefully transitioned a handkerchief from her bag to her other hand, she noticed that Tanyth was eying her and most of the rest of the attendees were already at the door.

“I’m impressed,” Tanyth said.

Linza swallowed, re-buttoning her trousers. “Whatever for?”

Primmen called up to them from the front of the classroom, where she was erasing the chalkboard. “Glad you could make it, Tanyth! And glad you enjoyed the lecture.” She grinned knowingly.

Tanyth smiled and nodded. “It was very inspiring. Wasn’t it, Linza?”

“Mmm, mhm. Yes. Very inspiring.” She did her best to wipe off her hand and to not panic. Then again, it had been totally worth it. Her whole body was still glowing. She’d racked up quite a bit of tension since the other lecture that morning.

“I’m always looking for enthusiastic volunteers,” Primmen said.

Another spark of arousal hit Linza in the core. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She and Tanyth finished gathering themselves and then as they got out to the hallway, she whispered to them, “Ugh, I can’t believe she noticed!”

“Well, of course she did,” Tanyth said. “She’s pretty attuned to those things. And I bet she was flattered. She obviously has a thing for making people irresistibly aroused.”

Linza considered that. “Oh. That does make sense.”

“You made her day, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, I— Hey, is that an empty classroom?” The light was dim beyond the frosted glass door.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I just need to— do you want to— I mean it’s closer than the—”

Tanyth caught her drift, and then caught her hand in theirs and pushed into the room. It was smaller than the lecture hall, the chairs arranged in a grid but not on different levels.

“Are there any other classes tonight?” Linza whispered, even though the door was shut behind them and nobody was likely to hear.

“Nah, and the cleaners don’t come ‘till the morning, so we’re clear.”

“Fuck.” Linza dropped her bag in the middle of the floor and then her hand was down the front of her trousers again. She felt just as sensitive, wanted it just as badly, despite her incremental relief. She wasn’t even nervous in front of Tanyth.

Tanyth giggled. “Today really got to you, huh? Did you like seeing me up on stage?”

“Yeah,” Linza whimpered.

Tanyth laughed. “Oh wow, you really did, didn’t you. Well, then I think it’s only fair that I help you out with that.”

“H-help me out?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Yes! I mean uh, yeah. Please.” Linza remembered her first day in the break room, when she had soaked in arousal the whole day and Tanyth’s expert touch had brought her incredible pleasure.

“I was thinking you could use an oral history lesson.”

Linza’s mind attempted to connect the dots through her haze. Were they offering oral sex? “Yes, please!” She quickly unbuttoned her trousers and pushed them to her knees. Her emotions might make her pay for it later, but it would be like a hangover from a really good bottle of wine. It would be worth it. Also, she was thirty as fuck and not about to say ‘no’.

“Pick a chair, any chair,” Tanyth said.

Linza plopped down in the one right behind her.

Tanyth came between her knees and ran their soft hands down her inner thighs.

Every touch was a jolt of pleasure. She gasped.

“Mmmm you smell good,” they said.

Before Linza could reply, they had pressed their tongue gently over the top of her vulva.

“O-oh, oh fuck, that feels so good…” Her whole body was trembling, welling with ecstasy.

Tanyth pressed in further, starting up a rhythm with their tongue—over her labia and then her clitoris in long licks.

Linza melted into the chair.

Tanyth was an expert, picking up on all her subtle affirmations and doing more of that, always responsive to her explicit corrections or requests. Faster than usual, she was nearing the edge.

“Tanyth, fuck, Tanyth, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna, I—” It took all her willpower not to scream as the pleasure bloomed from inside of her. As instructed, they didn’t stop, and her orgasm stretched out in long and wonderful waves.

As Linza stilled, they stood between her legs and started stroking themselves. She leaned up and gently took their hips in her hands. Their skin was so soft. “May I?”

They nodded.

She dipped her head under their hands and turned her own oral attentions to their balls. They too were soft and smooth, and Linza knew it was her imagination but she would have sworn that even their skin tasted sweet.

Her tongue traveled further back to their perineum, pressing with firm, wide licks.

“Linza if you do that you’re gonna make me, you’ll make me—”

Just as their breath caught and they hung at the edge, Linza sat up and took their tip in her mouth, catching the sweet heat of their pleasure. They cupped her cheek in their hand as they rode out the shuddering waves of delight.

When Linza finally stood, Tanyth giggled and pointed out that the cushion was soaking wet.

“Oh shit. Wait, this isn’t my fault, that has to be mostly your drool.”

“Nuh uh,” Tanyth said, shrugging dramatically.

Linza narrowed her eyes at them in mock indignation. “Alright, I’ll let you off the hook this time. This one time.”

The other two cantrips that Linza knew, other than Minor Illusion, were Mending and Prestidigitation. The latter was capable of quite a few different effects, and one of those was cleaning a small area. She spoke the chant and performed the gesture and as she spread her hand over the cushion, it became instantly clean and dry.

“Hm, I should have made a much bigger mess, then,” Tanyth said.

“So you admit it was you!” Linza jabbed her finger at them in mock triumph.

“Nuh uh!”

They quickly redressed and then Linza chased Tanyth down the hallway, both laughing and giddy and filled with the light of the afterglow.

But that glow cast a shadow, the aching reminder that she loved them.

Part 3: On the Job, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 18: Suggestion

Linza had been thinking about it all afternoon. She’d hardly been able to do anything else. Just like with illusions, the applications of a spell like Suggestion were limited only by the imagination. And, just like Phantasmal Force, she’d known of the spell’s usual applications but never considered its erotic potential.

And this was a rare opportunity. Suggestion was rarely taught except to academics and those who had shown remarkable integrity as a student and had already committed to a career in law enforcement. It was a subtle spell, and if the original casting were disguised and the suggestion reasonable, the subject may never realize that someone had manipulated them with magic.

Linza had never considered the power of bringing such a spell out into the open in this way, but since Primmen had suggested it, it was all that Linza could think about. She’d ended up sitting by a fountain in one of the side squares off of the main street, mind wandering through the implications.

The first and most obvious scenario was orgasm denial. The suggestion could be, ‘edge yourself until I tell you that you’re allowed to come’. With the spell duration of up to 8 hours, the final effect would be incredible.

Another option would be, ‘don’t masturbate today’. This, of course, could be planned for a time that was expected to be especially tempting, like right before a striptease.

Linza finally dug out a notebook to scrawl down the suggestions that came to mind, both as material for her writing and also in an effort to perhaps purge some of the frantic, lust-driven curiosity from her brain.

Edge yourself at work today, at least once every half hour, but don’t cum until you get home.

Go take a long bath and think about your favorite sexual memory, but don’t touch yourself yet.

Tell me about your most favorite sexual fantasies until you’re dripping.

Whenever you start to feel irritated today, feel aroused instead.

Bring yourself to orgasm without using your hands.

Every time someone asks how you’re doing today, moan ‘good’ like a slut.

Linza filled pages, but she was unsuccessful at purging anything from her brain—quite the opposite. She considered pausing by the break room on her way to the session to clear her head, if she had the time for it. She glanced at the clock—she was already a minute late!

Linza jumped to her feet and jogged over to the admin building. She weaved through the others milling in the halls and then finally found the entrance to the lecture hall. Breathless, she slipped into the back.

Tanyth had saved her a seat near the middle, which she both appreciated and resented. She’d have a much better view sitting with them, but she felt embarrassed as she squeezed past all the other folks on the edge of the row who’d been there on time.

After what felt like an eternity of apologizing and shuffling, she landed next to Tanyth.

“I miss much?” she whispered.

“No, you’re just in time!” They patted her knee.

Her stomach flipped. Lizna’s composure was already a total mess. As she shifted in her seat, shivering at the sensation through her vulva, she regretted not properly setting aside time to clear her head before the session.

Primmen was at the front of the classroom, and next to her was a man in a simple linen robe and nothing else. He had dark hair, olive complexion, and a medium build.

“…so it is of the utmost importance to remember that the most powerful organ in the body that relates to arousal is the brain. Therefore, suggestions that leverage the influence and expectations of the brain are extremely effective. These suggestions are also enjoyable when they are somewhat fantastic in nature. So, Victor and I are going to demonstrate one such scenario tonight.”

Primmen reached over to a bowl that sat on the table and plucked out a bunch of grapes. She plucked and ate one, and then offered them to others in the first row. “First, we must all agree that these are totally normal grapes.”

The front row ate their grapes and then nodded their confirmation.

Primmen thanked them and returned to the table. “Alright Victor, you try a few too, just to show that nothing’s happening yet.”

Victor obliged. He smiled. “Still feeling normal.”

“Excellent. Your robe, then?”

He shrugged off the robe and then stood before them, totally naked. He was flaccid, relaxed. “Reminds me of my days posing for drawing classes,” he chuckled.

“Alright, next I will cast the spell, and then you will all hear the Suggestion.” Primmen started chanting, moving her hands precisely through the air. She wore a bracelet of crystals set in gold, and those glowed and vibrated as she spoke. When the incantation was done, she looked Victor in the eye and said, “To you, these grapes will be as the most irresistible aphrodisiac. The slightest taste will leave you debilitatingly aroused. Each one will intensify the experience, and yet you will not be able to climax until you finish the bowl.”

There was one bunch left in the bowl, a reasonable snack.

Linza was impressed—of course her own imagination had been limited. She’d only considered suggesting somebody modify their behavior, not this type of perception modification! She would have to consider later how illusion and suggestion might synergize.

For the moment, nothing yet had happened.

“How do you feel?” Primmen said.

Victor smiled wryly. “A bit skeptical, to be honest. It seems too good to be true.”

“That’s quite alright.” Primmen smiled politely, but Linza saw an edge of smugness in her eye. She plucked a grape from the bowl and offered it to him. “Give it a try?”

He shrugged and popped the grape into his mouth.

He nearly fell over.

Linza now appreciated why he was naked. Never had she seen a shaft swell to such an insistent throbbing so quickly.

He caught himself on the edge of the table “H-holy shit…”

Primmen turned to the classroom. “And thus is the power of a welcome Suggestion. It can speak directly to the unconscious and create effects that stun the conscious mind, even though it is the same body that creates both the effect and the feeling of surprise.”

“C-can I have another one?” he asked.

“Of course.” She didn’t move the bowl, which was now on the opposite side of the table as Victor. “Just come and get them.”

He pushed himself up and shuffled over to the side of the table with the bowl, legs shaking. With trembling hands, he plucked a handful of grapes and shoved them all in his mouth at once.

That time, he did collapse. He melted to the floor in a heaving moan, hand finding his shaft immediately as he started to masturbate.

Linza shifted to the edge of her seat, partly to see better and partly for how the seat’s edge pressed against her vulva, giving her some of the sensation that she herself now craved.

“Holy shit,” Victor gasped, “I’ve never felt so fucking turned on in— nnngh… in my whole life…”

Linza glanced around the room and was gratified to find that she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat—other audience members were gawking and flushed. Tanyth was still wearing their same outfit as before, including the lack of underwear. Linza surmised as much when the tip of Tanyth’s erection peeked out from under the edge of their skirt. They had a more placid demeanor than her, content to watch the show. Perhaps it was because they’d already orgasmed four times that day.

Victor’s moaning escalated.

“Remember,” Primmen said, “You won’t be able to orgasm until you finish your snack.”

Victor gasped and opened his eyes, looking up at the table above him and the bowl there. “C-can you…”

“You seem perfectly capable,” she said. “All you have to do is reach up and get them. Nothing’s stopping you.”

“B-but then I’d have to…”

“… you’d have to what?” The corners of Primmen’s lips twitched upward.

“To s-stop…” Victor’s face was a picture of desperation.

“To stop what?” Primmen’s lips pressed into a satisfied grin.

“T-to stop touching myself!”

Primmen’d voice was practically predatory as she purred, “Well, you can do that, can’t you?”

“No!” he moaned. “I c-can’t stop, I c-can’t fucking stop!” He stroked harder, but this only seemed to intensify his predicament as it brought him closer to the edge that he couldn’t reach.

Primmen’s smug control of the situation was nearly as arousing to Linza as Victor’s desperate arousal. The combination of the two had Linza’s blood boiling.

“You really can’t stop?” Primmen crooned.

“I swear, I’m t-trying, I’m really trying but…”

“Why can’t you stop?”

“It feels too good… it feels… fuck, it feels amazing… ngh those grapes are, I can’t stop, they’re strong, I…”

Primmen leaned over and picked up the bunch from the bowl. “I suppose I can help you, then.”

She came around and stood behind him, so that he was between her and the audience. She plucked a grape from the bunch and fed it to him.

Victor moaned as if he’d just started masturbating after a long denial.

She fed him another, and clear pre-cum started to run over his tip.

Then she plucked a third, but regarded it. “Hmmm, this does look delicious. I might like one too. But then, if I eat it… could that mean you might never be able to come until the spell runs out?” Primmen’s eyes sparkled with mischief, a carefully crafted cruelty. Linza noted that exact expression, the mix of keen awareness and apparent indifference, to use in her illusions later. And in her own personal fantasies.

“No!” Victor gasped. “No, please, please, I need them, I need to come, I need to cum so bad…”

“Actually, nobody’s ever died from lack of orgasm.” Primmen pressed the grape against her closed lips, as if to ponder her decision.

Victor writhed, eyes going wide with desperation, but he couldn’t break his hands away from his cock. “I want to! I want tooo… please…”

She gave him the grape and he nearly swallowed it whole. That got him halfway through the bunch.

Linza was not sure that she herself would last through the rest of the bunch.

And so Primmen continued until Victor couldn’t even beg anymore, couldn’t even speak. All he could do was moan and gasp and whimper and stroke himself.

So, he didn’t notice as Primmen silently showed the audience that she was down to the last grape. She fed that to him, and Linza held her breath, waiting.

But nothing changed, yet. Had that part of the spell not worked?

Primmen winked at them, then said, “Victor, Victor look.”

Victor’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up and back at Primmen. He saw the empty stem.

It was like a jolt of electricity went through him. “Is that… did I… is that all of them?”

“It is all of them, Victor.” Primmen’s voice was a purr, her grin like a cat’s.

His breath was heaving, his body tense. “It’s… oh fuck… oh holy fuck… oh I can feel it coming… it’s coming, I’m, I’m—”

Linza had never seen a man cum so hard. He sprayed hard, multiple times, and then his cum flowed thick and white over his tip. It didn’t seem like it was going to stop as he moaned and moaned, more and more flowing out over his hand in waves. Finally, the ejaculate ran thinner and clearer. Victor mustered a groan and then collapsed back onto the floor.

Linza shook on the edge of her seat, desperately wishing it would be enough sensation to bring her to her own climax, but knowing that it would not be. She was dizzy, hot, over-aroused and under-stimulated.

Victor drew a deep breath and then heaved a sigh. “By the queen’s tits, Primmen, you really outdid yourself this time.”

Primmen smiled that predatory smile. “Thank you very much for your enthusiastic participation, Victor. Now, there are a few things I’d like to point out.” Primmen turned to the audience, immediately back in an academic tone. “Most importantly, notice how the last grape had no actual effect in and of itself. It was the idea of the last grape, and Victor needed to notice that it was the last grape, for the effect to be felt. It was purely psychological, though as I’m sure Victor will be happy to report, no less visceral than had it been physical.”

Victor nodded blearily. “It felt very… visceral…”

And with Victor still there on the floor, dazed and absolutely covered in cum, Primmen casually continued her lecture.

Part 3: On the Job, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 17: Command

Linza had worked almost every day for the past several weeks, and as her routine became established, she started to branch out. She was curious about the other experiences and about the broader operations of the estate. And she was delighted to find that the house offered more formal educational opportunities as well.

That Linza had previously gotten a professorial sense from the madame and her assistant was no coincidence. In the administrative building of the house, there was even a small lecture hall with tiered seating down to a chalkboard—like a JSMI classroom in miniature.

Any staff were welcome to come to the lectures and demonstrations. A few were required as part of her terms of employment, and there were some that could be assigned as remediation if needed.

There were classes on anatomy and sexual health, conversation and relationships, the application of magic, the history of sex, erotic techniques and so much more.

It was a weekend morning and the day’s lecturer was Primmen, a hawkish woman in her late fifties, her red hair going grey at the temples and pulled up in a tidy bun. She wore spectacles and a simple, slim-fitting dress in dark green. She had been one of the house’s first employees and was a widely respected expert in enchantment magic. She was, in fact, also a professor at JSMI.

This lecture was an overview of enchantment magic for erotic applications, and Primmen was just wrapping up the introduction. “Specialists in enchantment magic tend to, with very few exceptions, end up in one of four career fields: academia, litigation, law enforcement, and sex work.”

That certainly seemed to fit with Linza’s experience at JSMI. A lot of Primmen’s introduction was old news to her, but Linza reminded herself that she’d had the rare opportunity to study at one of the best universities in the world, even if she was deep in debt for it. Many of her colleagues at the estate had never so much as set foot on the campus.

At JSMI, it was basically a given that anybody in the School of Enchantment was either going to end up being an officer or an inmate. Enchantment magic primarily dealt with manipulating the will and actions of others, so the consequences for its misuse were appropriately harsh.

Using that manipulation for law enforcement, however, was deemed acceptable. For example, wizards learned magic like Charm Person, which was useful for temporarily winning the trust of informants and suspects. Linza was not sure she agreed with the ethics, but overall it seemed to be better than the alternative.

Because Enchantment had not always been the go-to tool for law enforcement. Evocation had held that honor within the past century, but after a nasty accident with a rogue Fireball spell had burned down two boroughs, a reform towards Enchantment had begun.

When you could simply cast Hold Person and instantly de-escalate a situation, there was not nearly as much need for overt violence. Though Enchantment magic was not necessarily harmless. In fact, since its threat was subtler, it had the potential to be even more dangerous.

Fortunately, the majority of law enforcement was composed of paladins, not JSMI alumni. The Stonewall Academy had its flaws, but it had a reputation for producing paladins of exceptional moral fiber. Paladins were also capable of their own enchantment magic, like Zone of Truth, which helped keep even the wizards in check. There were even a few higher-ups in the kingdom that had trained as both wizard and paladin.

“I must make it perfectly clear up front,” Primmen continued, “That when we speak of Enchantment in the context of sex work, it is important to understand that the will cannot be bent to cause itself direct harm. It is not possible—and rightly so—for compulsion magic to force any creature to accept direct harm. That being said, explicit consent remains absolutely vital because indirect harm, especially harm to trust or to a relationship, is very serious. Now, I do like to start with a demonstration. My lovely assistant, please?”

The main reason that Linza had come to this particular session is that Tanyth would be taking part. They had invited her and she now sat next to them towards the front of the lecture hall.

At Primmen’s call, Tanyth jumped to their feet and bounced to the front of the class. They were dressed thematically in a short pleated skirt, knee-high stockings, and a burgundy sweater, with their blue hair up in a high ponytail.

Tanyth had still not ever mentioned the illusion that had revealed Linza’s feelings, and that was both a blessing and a curse. Linza appreciated that over the past several weeks, she hadn’t had to suffer through too much awkwardness. But at the same time, moments like this seemed designed to torment her.

“Excellent. Thank you, Tanyth. Now, there are a few things to note. As with illusions and even non-magical hypnosis, the receptivity and willingness of the subject of the magic greatly enhances the effects. Here is one way that explicit, enthusiastic consent will heighten the experience. With this consent, some very enjoyable and unique scenarios are possible. Tanyth, if you will?”

Tanyth’s rising erection was already lifting the front of their skirt, revealing that they weren’t wearing any underwear underneath. They reached under the hem and started to stroke themselves.

Linza flushed both with arousal and a bit of nervousness. This was definitely designed to torment her. She glanced around the lecture hall. Everyone was watching with interest. A few others were taking notes, but the overall energy was more educational than erotic. She was still impressed by how nonchalant her colleagues at the estate were about sex and genitalia.

Not that she was complaining—it would be hard to go back to being shy about it before long—but she still wasn’t fully accustomed. So, she was very aware of the blush in her cheeks.

After a moment, Primmen nodded.

Tanyth tucked the front of their skirt back over their waistband so that their erection remained in full view.

There was a table next to the lecturn and Tanyth leaned over the edge of it, bracing their hands flat against the table, giving a profile view to the class.

“Now, enchantments work at a deep and often unconscious level and they can operate on both the brain and the body. With a spell like Command, it’s important to remember how the subject’s will shapes the effects. And now, to demonstrate. Tanyth… come.”

There were no incantations or gestures, no humming crystal, simply the command in her voice and the magic responding to it.

And then Tanyth responding to the magic. They cried out, their back arching, and without moving or touching themselves in any way they orgasmed right there. There was a spurt of cum and then a slower dribble, less volume than usual—a bit like if you stopped stroking right as the climax started. Which, in effect, was what had happened.

Linza stared, awestruck and aroused. Her musings had proved prescient—Primmen must have studied at the Stonewall Academy to know Command, which was a paladin spell. Linza wished that she’d had a class with Primmen while at JSMI, though she suspected that JSMI wouldn’t have let Primmen lecture on this current topic.

Tanyth sighed happily.

“Now, you will notice,” Primmen continued, “That this was not a particularly powerful orgasm. That’s because the rules of biology and physics still apply. An orgasm is the sudden release of sexual tension. If there’s not much tension, then there’s not much to release. So, Command is best applied when combined with other elements of the experience.” She slid a small vial over to Tanyth.

They picked it up, uncorked it, and applied a clear liquid to their shaft. Tanyth started stroking themselves again, this time with gusto, enabled by the lubricant. They made no effort to mute or even muffle their gasps, groans, and happy sighs.

Linza shifted in her seat, causing her own little spark of pleasure. She glanced around the room again. She was impressed to see that most of the others still had an academic air to them, though a young man a few rows up was as red-faced as she was.

The most torturous part of the whole thing is that, especially given the reaction of the rest of the staff in the class, she was certain that Tanyth wasn’t trying to torment her at all. They were just simply this matter-of-fact about these kinds of things, and they’d long been a teacher and coach here. Of course any of this would be casual to them. She may as well have been claiming somebody loved her because they’d told her where the washroom was when she’d asked.

Primmen continued to lecture about some related details and recommendations, but Linza didn’t hear any of them. All she could hear was Tanyth’s gasps and the pounding of her blood in her ears. She was transfixed, watching them masturbate front and center in a lecture hall for the class’s educational enrichment.

Their face was so angelic. Pretty, handsome, androgynous, enraptured.

Tanyth interrupted Primmen mid-sentence, also not hearing her words. “I’m close, I’m gonna, I’m—”

“Stop.” Another invocation of Command.

Tanyth froze, their whole body shuddering against the motion as if they’d suddenly been encased in a perfectly clear shell and could no longer move.

A large drop of clear pre-cum fell from their tip.

A quarter second later and they would have already been past the point of no return.

Primmen waited a long moment. “Alright, you may start again.”

Tanyth did, and it was not long before they were panting again. Primmen didn’t start lecturing this time.

“O-okay, I’m close again, I—”

“Come.”

Tanyth’s body convulsed so hard that they fell against the table with one hand, stroking themselves vigorously with the other, adding much more cum to the floor below them.

Just as they started to relax, Primmen repeated, “Come.”

Tanyth cried out, the process starting again, still yet more flowing from their small body somehow.

And then just as it stopped, again she said, “Come.”

And a third time Tanyth came, hand gripping the table, back arched and body shaking.

This time, she let them finally relax. They wobbled and sat hard on a stool by the chalkboard.

Linza glanced around again. This last display had finally gotten to the rest of the audience. Everyone was now looking a bit hot and bothered, and she expected that there would be a mass exodus to break rooms following the end of the session. If, that is, the group didn’t just devolve into public sex or masturbation before leaving the room. Linza still wasn’t quite sure just how open the staff were when there weren’t pretenses to keep for the guests.

Tanyth obviously had no issue masturbating in front of all of them.

“There are a couple of things to note,” Primmen said, pulling the classroom’s attention back to her. “First, I find it pertinent to remind everyone that most feelings of ‘fullness’ or ‘capacity’ when it comes to ejaculation are just perception. The majority of seminal volume doesn’t come from the testicles at all, but rather from glands near the prostate. Second, a scenario like this is still limited by the refractory period, though this varies widely from individual to individual. So, this can be an extra fun scenario for those with very short refractory periods, like Tanyth here. Thirdly, as with many magics, when the subject is enthusiastically accepting of the effects, the spell takes less effort to manifest and so can be cast longer or, in this case, more frequently.”

A few of the other staff returned to their senses and started scribbling down notes.

Primmen continued. “This is an example of what a single word can do. I must also point out the spell Suggestion, which is a higher level spell that allows the communication of an idea of up to several sentences. The effects of Suggestion can be maintained for up to eight hours. It is especially excellent for what I like to call, ‘enhancing the wants of the will’. An apt Suggestion may give you the power of will that you desire but lack. If you’re interested to see a demonstration of this, I will be hosting a session here again tonight and would be happy to see you there.”

Primmen continued on with a history of enchantment magic thus applied, but Linza couldn’t focus on her words. She was too busy watching Tanyth’s glazed-over expression and wondering what in the world Primmen’s next demonstration would be.

Part 2: Training, The Alchemist's Illusions

Chapter 13: Have Fun

It was the last day before the weekend, when Linza could have two uninterrupted days of training with her illusion magic.

Her slow job was even slower on the last day of the week. A lot of the senior alchemists liked to take long lunches. They didn’t start experiments on the last day of the week, so there were no reagents to weigh. Usually, Linza just stayed available to clean whatever they used that day and then she was free to go.

So, she had given herself over completely to her fantasies.

She sat at a small desk in the basement of the laboratory, where the washing basins were, day dreaming so fervently that her heart was pounding.

Wait, was it her heart or was it footsteps on the stairs?

She bolted upright just as one of the senior alchemists, Nanar, came down the last of the stairs. He looked a bit startled that she was already making eye contact with him. But, fortunately for her, alchemists did not tend to be the most socially apt bunch and she was sure he wouldn’t say anything.

She swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth. “What’s up?”

“I hate to ask you this on the last day of the week, but Borin’s already gone for the day and I just need someone to double-check my math.”

“Oh! Of course! Happy to.”

Nanar stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs.

“If it’s alright, I’ll follow you up in a moment, I just need to finish this inventory real quick before I lose count.”

“Of course! Yeah, no hurry. Any time in the next hour is great.”

“Great! See you soon.”

Nanar clomped up the stairs.

Linza groaned and bumped her fist against her forehead. Stupid, stupid! There was no way she could do math like this. And there’s no way that she could cum at work, either! She was between a rock and a hard place. Well, a wet place.

Though, the staff washroom on this floor was relatively quiet… she was the only junior in the office and Nanar was unlikely to come back down…

Linza scurried through the shelves of cleaned cauldrons and sorted reagents, around the corner, and to the washroom.

There was just the one toilet room, which she’d cursed on previous days when more juniors had been in and she’d been forced to wait. It worked to her advantage, now. As she slipped inside and slid the lock shut, she was quite sure she would be alone.

Linza leaned back against the wall and pulled up her skirt. Then, she hesitated. Was she really about to do this?

Her sex throbbed, demanding.

Yes, she was definitely doing this.

She slipped down her panties and left them on just one ankle as she turned her other leg aside and sunk her fingers into her vulva.

Linza nearly fell over, the pleasure was so intense.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan. Half of her was sure nobody would hear her anyway. The rest of her was sure that if she started moaning, she wouldn’t stop, and she didn’t want to risk it.

So she gasped and quivered.

Tempted as she was to sink back into her fantasies and enjoy herself, she did not have quite enough time for that. This needed to be like the break room at her night job. Quick and to-the-point.

Fortunately, Linza had been fantasizing with abandon all morning, and she had more than enough arousal built up. Already, her fingers were sparking pre-orgasmic waves of heat.

It seemed a bit of a shame to burn it all so quickly like this. But also hot.

She just couldn’t help it.

Here she was, masturbating feverishly in the basement of an alchemy lab.

Because she was such a thirsty slut.

That thought tipped Linza hurtling over the edge and she twisted, leaning heavily into the wall with her shoulder, not daring to breathe lest she scream. It felt so good.

Wave after wave of ecstasy trembled through her, all the anticipation of her fantasies pouring out. This was a kind of alchemy, a transformation of the pleasure of anticipation to the pleasure of release. From the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, her entire body tingled with electric pleasure.

Finally, she was done.

As she washed her hands in the basin, she could think again. She splashed water over her face and neck, dabbing herself off with a towel, feeling refreshed. She also wiped up the dampness from between her legs and from her vulva. Washing the towels was also part of her job description, so no one would be any the wiser.

The only thing she wasn’t quite sure of was what to do with her panties, which she’d left on her ankle. They were now cold and wet and smelled of her arousal.

She’d opted for a wool skirt that day, which was nearly floor length. And hadn’t she read that women didn’t used to wear any underwear at all?

So, she wrapped the panties in the towel and tucked them underneath her desk. She then bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time, quite looking forward to the task that awaited her.

And the way that her skirt moved over her bare hips and ass excited her. It was an exhilerating secreet, along with what she’d just done. Well, they’d be secrets until she told Wyn, anyway.

She was starting to understand rule number three.

Have fun.

Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 17: The Bar Trick

In an effort to keep his focused, John bought one soda, and then another, thinking that the caffeine and sugar high might get him in a gaming mood.

He wasn’t sure that it had succeeded, but he was sure as he finished off the second soda that he needed to pee. Bad. He found the restrooms after some circles, owing to the haze that still gripped his brain, and then was met with a conundrum. There were private, unisex bathrooms. John was tempted to select one of those, but also sure that if he did he’d find himself touching himself and then very soon losing his game.

Ruefully, he joined the line for the public bathroom. Primed by his previous stolen moments of sensation, and his time with Felix, and his consideration of the private bathroom, John was already having to hide his growing erection by the time he reached the front of the line.

As he passed the urinals, he considered the possibility of whipping out his stiff cock at one, stroking himself and painting the whole urinal, to the hypothetical amazement of his peers in the restroom, but in real life consent was an important consideration and John slunk into a stall.

As soon as he was out of sight his dick throbbed harder, begging him for release. His bladder, unfortunately, was sending the same message and they were totally at odds with each other.

John breathed deeply and tried to focus, to relax. He was, for the first time, actually worried. Would he be able to pee if he didn’t come? The thought alone made his dick even stiffer, and he couldn’t resist a few indulgent strokes, his shaft still slick from the lube Felix had used.

But no, the game was worth it. John focused on other games, mechanics and old reviews, theory crafting and speculation, until his erection had faded enough that he could finally pee. But, by the time he could, it felt so good to release that the sensation alone threatened to make him stiffen again.

Somehow, John was able to bleed off enough of the pressure and he returned to the hall.

As the evening came to a close, John realized that he was going to need to get creative, or else he’d be jacking off in his hotel room and ruining his game.

So, he ended up at the hotel bar and requested a booth, which he got to himself. It was a smaller one in a back corner, and he was at just the right angle that nobody would be able to see what he did under the table.

If sitting in the booth had been the entirety of his plan, then he would have surely failed, painting the floor under the table with his cum. But, that was only part of the plan. The other part was to drink and to rely on the alcohol to dull his sensation and accelerate his fatigue enough that he’d pass out as soon as he got back to his room.

He started by letting his mind wander freely and his erection fight against the inside of his jeans, throbbing and growing. He ordered his drink and then released himself, and it felt so good to just not be restricted anymore that he worried he’d made a mistake. But his first drink came, an old fashioned, and he sipped it in one hand as he stroked himself in the other.

As his urgency quickly grew, he downed the rest of his drink and ordered another. He needed to get past the initial buzz where the lowered inhibitions and the not-yet-dulled sensations could cause him to lose his game.

He gulped his second drink even faster than the first and ordered a couple of shots for good measure, stroking himself surreptitiously all the while.

He realized as he sipped his third drink (not counting the shots) that he had perhaps over-corrected. Very quickly, he was rendered properly drunk.

He abandoned his care for the rules, the alcohol having totally melted his inhibitions, and he masturbated in earnest under the booth table. Fortunately, tortuously, he seemed to be too far gone to cum, even as he worked himself into a sweaty, dripping mess.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get somewhere that he could really go at it. He paid and left a generous tip, just in case the waiter had noticed anything, and then carefully pressed his erection back into his jeans. John headed totteringly to the restroom and, lacking his previous willpower, he went into one of the private rooms.

Even while John was still locking the door, he was freeing his throbbing dick with the other, and he leaned back against the door and heaved a sigh of relief, which very soon became a panting of urgency. Finally alone, he could stroke himself with gusto, and allow himself the expressions, the moans and gasps and groans and squeaks, that he’d been holding in all day.

Though, his sounds soon became grunts of frustration, for he had slicked the slope of his climax with enough alcohol that he could now gain no traction on the climb. Sober John’s plan had been effective, though Drunk John was not happy about it. The frustration was enough to calm him down so that he could relieve his bladder, at least, though once again the sensation proved so pleasant that he was almost thwarted from that relief too.

John focused very hard to put himself back together and then to totter back up to his room without embarrassing himself. John made it to his room and threw his clothes over a chair and then himself over the bed, appreciating the cool, smooth sheets. He’d have to google what hotel sheets were made of and get some. He was starting to appreciate that the sensual details mattered and he was overdue to graduate from just buying whatever Target had on sale.

As he thought of what he might do in those new sheets, John’s erection returned, and he passed a few more minutes in groaning, panting, stroking frustration before the sedative effects of the alcohol and his genuine exhaustion after the long day overtook him and he fell asleep.

Part 4: The Convention, The Black Box

Chapter 15: His Own Game

It was time for the annual major gaming convention, which meant that John would be out of town for a long weekend, put up in a hotel by his boss.

Since he hadn’t yet finished the black box review, it was the first time in years that he didn’t have a specific assignment at the convention.

He found himself feeling more eager and playful than ever as he walked the convention halls, trying out this game and that one, finding some that he liked and some that he didn’t.

He missed Arya in a surprisingly non-sexual way, but he also knew she’d want him to have fun, so he focused on the convention.

The first night, John masturbated in his hotel room, in part to assure himself that he still could without Arya.

And wow, he could indeed. It was a better solo session than he’d ever had before Arya. Teasing himself and building in waves had become habit. That, and he had so many new memories to pull from. He realized after he finished that he hadn’t even thought to pull up porn.

In his afterglow, he thought about what he’d say to Arya. ‘I touched myself at the thought of you.’ She’d like that. He’d never realized before that masturbation could be so… cooperative.

But his mind was getting more playful, and he thought of something else he could say. ‘I waited for you. God, I’m so full, I’m going to burst!’

His skin prickled with heat, his just-spent balls twitched, and John knew he’d come upon a good idea.

Now that he’d proved that he could masturbate without Arya there, he was eager to prove whether he could not.

The next day, he stayed out on the exhibit floor longer than he would have otherwise, intent on maximizing his experience with the convention and minimizing the amount of time he would spend in his room before he fell asleep.

It worked, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Though, the next morning he awoke with a throbbing erection, not a small amount of pre-cum on his tip and the sheets, and a dream of Arya fading out of memory like sand through his fingers.

With a groan and a deep, cleansing breath, John stood and got dressed and returned to the convention.

As he browsed, he considered the rules of his game. He had resolved not to orgasm again until be returned home, but he was allowed to touch himself, he decided. It might make averting orgasm more difficult, but as Arya had taught him, that was half the fun. It wasn’t denial if you didn’t want it. Really badly.

He stole a few moments of indulgence on his next bathroom break, and the next one, and then even in a changing room as he tried on a branded shirt for one of his favorite games from the prior year.

As he climbed a quiet stairwell at the back of the convention center, he thought about touching himself there. But, he considered what Arya had been teaching him. He wasn’t ashamed at the idea of being caught — it was thrilling, actually! But, he couldn’t guarantee that whoever caught him would consent to seeing him touch himself, and so it would be unkind to do so.

John had never before been able to articulate why some kinds of public sex seemed hot, and others gross, and he realized then that consent made a big difference.

He found a balcony that looked out over the city, sidled up to it and leaned over, hips against the railing, and let himself think of Arya.

At this angle, his jeans would appropriately disguise his erection, which grew and throbbed and ached. He looked out over the city and daydreamed without restraint, gripping the railing to steel his willpower, and savoring the delicious torture of his trapped dick.

To anyone walking by, he was perhaps just introspecting and maybe a bit afraid of heights. Public erection, more so than public masturbation, afforded him thrill without violating anyone else’s consent.

The hard part, of course (other than his dick) was diminishing that erection before he had to go anywhere else. John took deep breaths and thought of the games he wanted to try next, ones he might request to review on pre-release, now that he was building the confidence to tell his boss that he was a good writer and he wanted to review good games, not shitty ones.

Once his erection had abated, John returned to the exhibition hall. It was so large that he hadn’t made it through the whole place even with his long day, and as he came around a corner, he saw a tiny stall squeezed into a far corner that made his heart jump.

It had a matte black sign with abstract smoke and the table was covered in black velvet that hung down to the floor. On the table were hundreds of tiny black boxes with little tags that said in gold leaf, ‘open me!’

There was a man sitting behind the table, slender with a clean-shaven face, wearing a black crop top and jeans. He made intense, beckoning, wordless eye-contact with passers by. Most seemed drawn in and silently grabbed one of the boxes or murmured ‘are these free?’ before scurrying off again.

John approached and picked up one of the boxes, which looked like it could fit a hotel shampoo bottle. The thick paper was familiar in his fingers. He resumed eye contact with the other man.

“Do you work for the studio?” John asked.

“The studio?” The other man’s voice had a warm energy.

“Or the publishers, for the black box?” John hoped his tone sounded more conversational than intense.

“Oh, no. Well, kinda. They hired me for the weekend to run this table.”

“Oh. Huh.” Usually, indie game developers loved the face time. Meet the fans, all that. But, this sort of mysterious and sensual experience was right on brand. Anticipation, not answers. Curiosity, not certainty. John brushed his fingertips on the velvet. It was real, not that polyester stuff.

“Do you?” asked the other man.

“What?” John said.

“Do you work for the studio?”

“Oh, no. I’m reviewing an advance copy of the game.”

“So it IS a game!”

“Wait, I thought they hired you?”

“They did, they just didn’t tell me a damn thing other than to make sure there were enough of these on the table.” He gestured to the small black boxes. “It’s a sex game, isn’t it?”

John hesitated, realizing now how reductive his own initial assessment of ‘porn game’ now seemed, but he nodded. “How’d you figure?”

The man held up one of the little black boxes and shook it. “These have teeny bottles of lube inside. Nice stuff, too.”

John marveled, for a moment, at the bizarre yet probably effective marketing strategy. It certainty stood out, even in this hall full of flashing screens and flashy branding.

“You gotta tell me about the game,” the man said.

“I’m… not sure how much I can say.”

“Awww, how come? Isn’t it good hype marketing anyway?”

John was actually pretty sure he hadn’t signed any non-disclosure agreements or anything, come to think of it. He’d been talking to Ayra so much, he found himself giving the honest answer before he realized it might sound inappropriate. “Well, mostly because I’m not trying to show the whole convention hall my erection.”

“Oh!” the man said, nonplussed. “I can help with that. Here.”

He cleared a couple of boxes off of the folding chair that was next to him, and patted it. John squeezed between tables and took a seat, and the man handed him one of the boxes. The top was already cut, and it was full of more of the tiny black boxes.

“So now you can tell me?” he said.

“I’m impressed by how nonchalant you are about this,” John said.

“Oh, well. I’m a sex worker, so. All in a day’s work.”

A few months ago, John would have reacted pretty strongly to that revelation, all sorts of stereotypes coming to mind, but he was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t. He still wasn’t quite sure how to react, but he figured he’d treat it as he’d treat any other person’s job. “I’ll be especially curious how you feel about a game like this, then.”

The other man’s eager attention put John at ease. Though John hadn’t quite figured out what he was going to put in his review, he was able to ramble through and not lose the other man’s attention. Sure enough, as soon as he started thinking of Arya and remember their time together, his body was flushed with warm arousal and his erection fought with the inside of his jeans.

Passers by still came for their free samples, and occasionally they caught the other man’s attention. He gave mysterious answers from a script that he had taped to the back side of the table. When folks asked about the game, they were told that it was in the box, and they’d have to take it home to find out. He then restocked the table from the box on John’s lap.

In rambling stops and starts, John finished telling the other man his story, up to and including his current game.

“Ooooh, that’s hot,” the other man said. “No wonder you… needed a box.”

John laughed wryly. “I did indeed. So… what do you think?”

“I think it sounds more like sex therapy than porn.”

“That’s actually… yeah, really accurate. I hadn’t thought to say it that way — I’m going to have to use that in the review.” John fished out his notebook from his pocket. “I wouldn’t want to pretend I came up with that, though. Any interest in being featured? I can also quote you anonymously, and either way if you give me your name and email I can send you an advance draft.”

The other man grinned. “That’s a pretty slick way to ask for someone’s number.”

“Oh!” John said. He was blushing. He wouldn’t have considered himself anything but heterosexual, before. Maybe the lingering arousal from telling his story was making him feel more receptive than usual. “I… want to be straightforward that I was just thinking about the article but… um, I wouldn’t be opposed to…” John’s brain stalled out. He blinked.

“Name’s Felix.” He rattled off the rest of his contact information, and John jotted it down. “I for sure want to see an advance draft. That’s gonna be an… interesting review. Like, if you wrote down what you just told me… haha, that’s smut, that’s not a review.”

“I know!” John said. “I’m not sure how to be specific without…”

“Without writing porn.”

“Exactly.”

“That is quite the predicament,” Felix said. “Just like how…” He reached into the box on John’s lap, which was now nearly empty. He drummed his fingers on the cardboard that was right above John’s crotch, sending sparks up John’s painfully restrained erection.

John shuddered.

Felix continued, “The last few are always so hard to get out of the box…”

Part 4: The Trouble with Sirens, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 23: A Gift

Pasco scooped Ada up and nodded to Missa and Forte. Forte belayed them so that Pasco could rappel down, Ada gripped close.

She was so small, like this.

They landed by the moored boat and Missa removed the anchor above and started to climb down. Pasco settled Ada in the boat, and as he stood to wait for Missa, he noticed a tangle of pink seaweed-like hair peek over the edge of the rock.

He drew his sword, but the siren merely scooted herself slightly further up the rock so that she could plop sleepily next to them. She waved a hand dismissively at his sword.

“Two thingsssss,” the pink siren said, waving two fingers in front of her as a drunkard might.

“One… the dragon is welcome back… anytime.” The pink siren giggled happily.

It really was like she was drunk. Is this how sirens got when they finally fucked themselves out?

“TuuuuWOO!” the siren waved her hand around. “I have… a thank you gift… for sharing your dragon friend.”

Pasco quirked an eyebrow and glanced at Forte. The other pirate shrugged.

The siren pulled up her other arm with some labor and put something on the rock in front of her. It was something small, on a chain, and it was especially slimy.

Pasco nudged it with the tip of his sword. “Was this in your…”

“It’sssss important! For the magic. Take it.” She pushed it towards his feet.

“Can I wash it first?”

“Yes yes.” The siren waved her hand dismissively at him. “Now, asssssk what it does.”

“What does it do?”

“It holdsss one of my songs. The dragon… likes our songs. Nobody… likes our songs anymore. I noticed…” the pink siren lolled to look up at Pasco, and seemed remarkably lucid in that moment, “that you also liked… how she likes our songs.”

Pasco blushed, which wasn’t like him. Which also meant that the siren was right.

“If you wear it… and open it… it’ll play a little song. She won’t be able to come… until you come…”

“Oh.” He quickly picked up the locket, no longer caring about where it had recently been. This was a precious object to be protected, regardless of its state of cleanliness. “That’s actually… that’s actually really amazing. Does it have some sort of limit? Like a number of charges?”

“I’m not sure how many,” the siren said, “I don’t usually give giftssss. But, when it runs out… You’ll jussssst have to come back and visit, and I can recharge it for you.” The siren rested her cheek on her hand and grinned up at him.

He narrowed his eyes at her and considered. “She’ll have to want to,” he said. “She just said she hates sirens.”

“She’ll want to, eventually. But don’t worry. I wasn’t too ssssssstingy. Well, I wanted to be. But it chargessss by coming and she just kept… making me and… making me and…” The siren’s eyes started to glaze over and she sunk back off the rock like a drunk pushing too far back in their chair. She yelped and pulled herself up, just as Missa reached the bottom of the rock.

She didn’t say anything else, but just looked up at them, dreamily. Probably rubbing herself underneath the water.

“You know,” Pasco said, “People would still be affected by your songs if you didn’t keep fucking pirates so much that all pirates have siren’s blood.”

The siren pouted at that. “It’s not my fault,” she said. “We just… can’t… stop…”

She was definitely rubbing herself under the water.

“Okay, time to go,” Pasco said.

Missa and Forte were already in the boat. Pasco hopped in and shoved off and Forte started rowing. Pasco adjusted Ada, who was now sound asleep, to nestle in his lap.

He carefully dipped the locket in the saltwater to clean it, then took a closer look. It seemed to be made of a closed clamshell. The surface was carved with swirling runes. He gently pulled it open, and the runes started to glow slightly. A soft melody whispered out. Ada stirred, and he quickly closed it.

They’d figure out later exactly how it worked. He’d normally have been exceedingly suspicious of a siren, but he was quite sure that that one was too dazed to lie.

Would Ada ever want to go back? He selfishly hoped she would. But for now, he was happy to see her safe.

Pasco could tell that Ada was truly exhausted by that she chose to continue to sleep below-deck even while the upper deck became a full-on orgy. They’d be even later in getting to the pirate capital, but that was better than losing the ship because they were trying to sail while incapacitated by arousal.

The pirates with lesser siren’s blood like Sendia couldn’t help but fuck themselves to exhaustion like Ada had, but the others would be sated enough after a good couple of rounds.

It was only right for Pasco to join in — after all, he couldn’t ask his crew to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself, orgies included. And even though Ada was below deck, he still found himself to be particularly motivated. For two reasons.

One, the scent of Ada still lingered in the air, having poured out of the cove and over the surface of the ocean. Two, the locket around his neck, seashell light and cool on his skin. Even closed, it filled his mind with thoughts of Ada begging for release, and that was something he could not wait to see again.

Part 4: The Trouble with Sirens, The Dragon's Tower

Chapter 21: Mounting a Rescue

Pasco lifted the telescope to see what they were dealing with. The cove was white with the sirens’ spawn. That was nothing new, the sirens’ reputation for horniness was well deserved.

What was new was the waterfall. That hadn’t been there before— oh.

What appeared to be a waterfall was a shiny, foamy cascade flowing down off a flat, round rock a short ways up from the cove. The source was a ring of seething, horny sirens and one very particular dragon. Woman. Dragon. Woman.

She kept changing back and forth, which was the source of the screams that they’d heard from the other side of the rocks. The ship would have made it around much faster if the sirens hadn’t spun up the magical storm. That was, in fact, exactly why the sirens had summoned it. Pasco hadn’t known them to use that magic in years, though. The reason was now very clear. A dragon was quite the prize.

A quick series of thoughts passed through Pasco’s mind. One, arousal. His own member was happy to rise to the occasion, throbbing painfully against his trousers. Two, jealousy. If anyone was finally going to put mischievous, endlessly horny Ada in her place through unending forced orgasm, he wanted it to be him. Three, further arousal at the thought of that scenario. Four, Ada needed rescuing.

He scanned the crew to see how they were faring. The congregation of sirens was singing as they spawned in the cove, and though they weren’t turning their attention towards any sort of luring, they song still had a sort of halo effect. The crew had been quite close to the song for quite a while as they navigated the storm.

He, Missa, and Forte were unaffected by the sirens, being pirate nobility and therefore having some quite close siren relatives. Teoda was a bit more distantly related and so was shifting uncomfortably, her trousers starting to betray her arousal with a growing wet spot.

Most of the crew was in a similar state, generally doing their best but definitely starting to feel it. A few were not so lucky, including Sendia, who was panting, red faced. She’d been tasked with fetching Pasco’s sword while he surveyed the situation, because she was too lust-addled to help with the plan.

She was partway across the deck with the sword, her erection showing clearly through her trousers, when she stumbled and dropped the sword. Forte went to help her, but Missa put a hand on his arm. “Let me have a little treat,” she whispered, “It’ll only take a second.”

Sendia’s face was bright red and she was huffing. She was leaning against one of the barrels on the deck and tried to straighten, but couldn’t. “I… I can…” Her hand slowly found its way to touch herself from the outside of her trousers, her swollen shaft damp at the tip. She looked at the sword, then up at Pasco, and blushed harder.

Her eyes found Missa’s as she rubbed herself harder from the outside. “I can’t— I can’t stop. I can’t—” She tugged her trousers down and started to stroke herself, slowly at first, reluctantly. “Missa, I can’t— I can’t stop.” Sendia glanced desperately between the sword on the deck and Missa’s look of mock disapproval.

Missa put her hands on her hips. “You’re being very naughty.”

That did not help Sendia’s predicament. The girl stroked herself harder. “Missaaa… I shouldn’t…”

“That’s right,” Missa said, “You’re being a bad girl.”

Sendia yelped. And stroked harder. “Missssaaaa! You’re making it worse!”

“Nuh uh,” Missa said. She slipped a hand down her own trousers to start rubbing herself.

Pasco looked at Forte and the two men sighed. “Collateral damage?” Pasco said, referring to that Missa was now also useless.

“Call it the ricochet effect,” Forte said.

Missa nodded, pushing her hand further down her trousers. “Yeah, heh, sorry boss. I’m immune to sirens but… definitely not immune to siren-susceptible Sendia.”

Pasco shook his head but smiled good-naturedly and walked past Missa to get his sword. Sendia gasped as he approached but couldn’t tear her eyes off of Missa, nor could she tear her hands off her throbbing dick. “I’m s-sorry captain.”

Pasco picked up his sword. “Not as sorry as you’ll be when I make you clean up the mess you make.”

Sendia yelped, a drop of pre-cum beading at her tip. “Captain!”

Missa moaned happily. “You’re a good man, Pasco. I appreciate you.”

Pasco and Forte got the rest of their things together for the rescue.

Sendia whimpered. “Missa… I can’t… I can’t come in front of everyone.”

Missa grinned. “Well, you’re going to if you don’t stop touching yourself.”

“I can’t! It’s not my f-fault, it’s the sirens!”

The rest of the crew, for their part, was not unhappy about the scene unfolding on deck. A few huffed and pouted and muttered, but that was only because they were annoyed that their arousal was starting to overtake their own discipline. Soon, Sendia and Missa weren’t the only pirates openly masturbating on the deck.

Sendia squeaked as she panted, trying to force herself to go slower. “I don’t… I don’t want to come in front of everyone…”

“Then stop,” Missa said.

“I— I can’t! I can’t… I can’t stop…”

“Then it’s your own fault for being such a slut.”

Sendia yelped and her eyes started to roll back. “Missa… you’re making it worse.”

“How bad?”

“So bad, so bad, I have to… I have to so bad… I’m so full…” Sendia was pumping herself hard, still leaning over and bracing herself against the barrel. Missa watched her and rubbed herself, already edging, just waiting to time herself with the other pirate’s climax.

“I’m going to… I’m going to cum in front of everyone, I… I can’t stop… I can’t stop… I can’t— I’m gonna—”

“That’s right, Sendia, make a mess.”

“Ah! Fuckfuckfuck, it’s, I’m, I’m coming!” Sendia came right there on the deck, and she was not the only one. Missa climaxed as Sendia’s load spurted forth, and the other pirates that were more susceptible to the sirens’ influence orgasmed as well. That in turn made life significantly harder — or, depending, wetter — for the pirates who were still attempting to behave. They grumbled good-naturedly.

Missa picked herself up as Sendia collapsed blissily onto the deck. Missa licked off her fingers, then hoisted her own sword. “Like I said, only took a minute,” she said, joining Pasco and Forte at the side of the ship where they were lowering a rowboat. They couldn’t risk the ship itself getting any closer to the sirens’ rock, so they’d be rowing over.

Another one of Ada’s anguished cries hurried them.

Bake Cookies, Write Smut

You have good taste

Tag Archives: public masturbation

Christmas Dinner (Part II)

Chapter 51: Reading Mood

Chapter 19: Class Dismissed

Chapter 18: Suggestion

Chapter 17: Command

Chapter 13: Have Fun

Chapter 17: The Bar Trick

Chapter 15: His Own Game

Chapter 23: A Gift

Chapter 21: Mounting a Rescue