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Day 2
The ritual copied once again, Tiska followed Roji back toward the ritual room. Sezithorum nodded to them and entered. The apprentices removed their robes, dropping them on the floor next to their master’s and filed in behind him. They walked around the outside of the room, careful not to disturb the chalk outline or the paraphernalia distributed along it. Sezithorum stopped at the center of the western wall, opposite the door, next to the open Codex on the floor. He turned and faced the room, Roji just to his right, and Tiska near the southwest corner of the room. With one final glance at the Codex, Sezithorum began intoning the magical syllables.
His voice was normally deep and slightly husky, but Tiska was always surprised by the change that came over it when he began a ritual. There was no trace of the gravel or weakness anymore, simply a powerful man issuing commands. He raised his arms above his head and made a gesture like he was grasping something with the thumb and forefinger on each hand, which he then lowered to waist height. A tangible ripple of pressure passed over Tiska, head to toe, as the wards that surrounded the keep descended.
Tiska never thought about the wards, except when she saw him take them down and put them back up before and after these rituals. They had to be removed – there is little point in summoning something if it cannot enter, and any active applications of charm that are not integral to the ritual must be removed, or you risk interference. But why have them in the first place? It’s not like anybody has any reason to hurt Sezithorum. Her previous mentor never had anything like that.
Sezithorum knelt just outside the circle and touched his two index fingers together, then touched them to the chalk outline. He then extended his little fingers and touched them to the lines as well. With that second touch, the lines lit up with a faint blue glow, spreading from that point of contact throughout the entire intricate pattern and all of its subcomponents. Now that the figures had been infused with charm, they were locked. It no longer mattered if the chalk lines were smudged, the charm would continue to circulate along the pathways that had been established initially.
Heat radiated from the arc that passed just in front of her toes. Not enough to burn, but enough to make you notice it. The entire room felt like it was warming up, much more and much more quickly than would be expected from those little trails. Tiska knew from experience that the charm accumulating in the room was adding to the sensation as well. Her own anxiety wasn’t helping either.
She stared at the parchment in her hands. She was nervous about the ritual itself, and worried about whether she would get her part right, but more significantly she was aching to release the charm that had been building within her all morning. Her nipples and vulva throbbed with every beat of her pounding heart, and she could only imagine how her master was feeling; he was the one who had been in direct contact with the Codex all this time.
Sezithorum fell silent. He picked up the Codex and stood, stepping forward into a small circle, about five handsbreadths in diameter, placed just inside and tangent to the outer main circle. He raised his arms and spoke again, beginning the ritual proper. Tiska glanced over at Roji, who was similarly studying his own notes and following along. The tip of his wand, glistening with ooze, twitched up and down as he tried to control his breathing.
Tiska stared at it and swallowed hard, her mouth dry. Not long now, before it would be buried deep inside her. Penetrating her sheath, pumping, thrusting, dragging past her drapes, making her writhe and scream. The top of the shaft grinding against her clitoris, the bulb rubbing past her prostate. She just hoped, by all that was good in Canera, that he didn’t start whistling again.
Sezithorum signaled to Tiska, and broke her from her reverie. She blinked a few times and stepped forward toward the cushion. It lay on its wooden frame in a large circle designated for it, as the power source, where the charm would be generated. She turned around and lay down on her back, propping her legs up. She rolled her head to the right.
Roji was still carefully avoiding looking at her, focusing entirely on the parchment in his hand. She glanced toward her master, who had closed his eyes and was motioning with his hands as he continued to recite his lines. She watched with rapt attention as a droplet collected on the end of his rod and started to fall. A viscous thread slowed its descent, extending most of the way to the floor before breaking. The liberated drop fell more quickly, adding to the tiny puddle that had already collected between his feet. The remains of the filament were slowly drawn back up, as the sticky fluid recollected itself.
Tiska rolled her head back to center, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath. Slowly she let it out, and focused on the old man’s words. It occurred to her as she listened that his accent and intonations sounded more natural in that milieu than when he was speaking her own language. Maybe that was his native tongue? What did that say about him, if his native language was that in which magic was written? She would have to ask about that at some point. Maybe that would get him to open up again.
Following the introduction, the ritual proceeded to some call-and-response, which was Roji’s section. He took it slowly, but he managed to get all of the strange sounds out. He met her eyes, and she smiled encouragingly.
The master was already into the next section, so she raised her copy of the script, found her place, and chimed in right on time. She was more comfortable than Roji with the language, but she was still concentrating so hard on getting the words out clearly that she didn’t realize until it was out of her mouth that she had said “sthrak” again. Oops. But there was no turning back, no second attempts, have to run with it.
Some more call-and-response between the males, and Roji started into his “repeat until release” section. Sezithorum motioned him toward Tiska, and he knelt between her spread legs. He locked eyes with her as he nestled his tip between her folds, moving it around a bit to ensure lubrication. She nodded once, and he pressed in, a bit at a time.
As soon as he penetrated her, she started into her first “repeat until release” line, and continued as he worked his way deeper into her, settling into a rhythm. Each of them continued their lines, at different paces, neither of which coincided with the timing of his thrusts. The mismatched pacing created a strange, slightly jarring, asynchronous effect
It was probably just as well, because it would help to prevent either of them from orgasming too quickly, before they were able to gather enough charm. Roji was having a difficult enough time as it was; his eyes were closed, and he had slowed his thrusting, but he was still chanting under his breath. Sezithorum looked on tensely, still dribbling on the floor.
Tiska closed her eyes as well, and concentrated on the repetition of the sounds flowing past her lips, and the building pressure of charm within her breasts, and behind her eyelids, and filling her womb. She’d played equivalent roles in other rituals previously, but it had never generated this much energy before.
Then Roji’s rhythm changed, slowing for an instant, then becoming more frenetic and powerful, as he finished his phrase one last time. “Pkunk… Mfk… Mbethn,” he panted, as his body emptied itself into her, his seed and his energy filling her, and further increasing the tension within her. He slumped on top of her, limp, his body still trembling.
Tiska finished her phrase one more time as well, as Roji’s spasms faded, and squeezed his shoulders. They couldn’t afford to let the momentum ebb, they needed to keep the ritual moving, which meant that Roji needed to stand and get out of the way. He lifted his head and had to work to focus his eyes. Then he remembered where he was, and sprang away, still trailing a cord of iridescent slime.
Her attention snapped back to Sezithorum, who had resumed reading. She lifted her paper, which had gotten crumpled in her hand, and tried to flatten it enough to read. She didn’t really need it, but it made her feel better to have the reminder. After a couple more exchanges, the wizard placed the Codex on the ground, began his repetition, and positioned himself in front of her.
As before, as soon as she felt the penetration, she started her second round of repetition as well. He went slowly and shallowly to begin with, gradually increasing the pace, depth, and force, and giving her a chance to adjust, without shocking her out of her litany. Faster, and deeper, and harder, he rammed into her with more and more force.
She could feel the charm amassing in him, threatening to explode. Her own charm was building up quickly as well, but these were the times that she could really feel the difference in power between them. It was to be expected, since she was only an apprentice, with still less than a decade of practice in manipulating charm, while he probably had a couple of centuries worth. But even with Roji’s contribution pulsing within her and spreading out to permeate her entire abdomen, it felt like urinating into a rushing river.
Irritated with herself, she dragged her thoughts back to the ritual. She couldn’t afford to mess up her lines. The momentary distraction had helped to hold back the tide of her excitement, but returning her attention to her arousal made it bloom, quickly spiralling out of control. She felt her muscles clenching, and tried to pull back again and relax, but even the concentration and repetition could not hold Tiska back from her orgasm anymore.
A panicked expression stole over her face, her eyes springing open. She’d pushed herself too much earlier, too far, she’d let Roji touch her too much. If she had resisted the teasing more, she wouldn’t have been as wound up, and would have been able to hold out longer.
All of these thoughts flashed through her mind in the instant before the wave of her orgasm crashed over her. Her arms and legs jerked spastically, as her entire body was wracked with paroxysms of pleasure. All of the charm that had been pressurized within her, both her own and Roji’s, exploded out from her in all directions. The brazier flames flickered, the gong vibrated weakly and the ivy leaves overlapping the window opening fluttered with the concussion.
Her eyes had closed again, and she opened them long enough to see the look of horror on her master’s face, as he accelerated even more, trying to force his own release. He had been holding back for too long, however, and was unable to reverse his body’s responses so quickly.
In spite of it all, Tiska managed to continue chanting all the way through her convulsions, and when she opened her eyes again, she held up a hand, and nodded to Sezithorum. They both maintained their chants as he withdrew and she rolled over onto her hands and knees. He stepped up behind her and impaled her again. She managed to fit a grunt into her litany without breaking the flow.
Tiska reached between her legs to her clitoris and twiddled it furiously, trying madly to work herself up to another peak, but it was elusive. The pressure against her prostate afforded by this position helped, as did the fact that, charm aside, Sezithorum knew what he was doing.
She could feel his orgasm approaching and redoubled her efforts. Long, hard thrusts, pulling nearly all the way out in between, and finally bursting, and filling her with another immense round of charm, which seemed like it would never end. His wand just kept pulsing, kept pumping more fluid and more power into her, pushing her to the brink again, but not past it.
Suddenly she felt a pressure at her anus. Roji had apparently recovered some of his presence of mind, and was shoving two saliva-wet fingers into her other opening. There was enough other moisture there already, her own and Roji’s semen, that had been dribbling out of her for what seemed forever, that they slid in easily, despite her clenching muscles.
That did it. Tiska barely managed not to break off in the middle of a word, as her world exploded again, peeling apart like an overinflated wineskin and leaving her soaking in the center.
Tiska’s legs shot out from under her, and as she fell, she disengaged both of her orifices from their contents. Sezithorum, still holding her hips, was pulled down with her, his hair and beard fluttering in the shockwave. Roji was pushed back against the wall. The flames in the braziers leapt, danced, and disappeared. Across the room, a loud BAMF sounded as air was suddenly displaced, causing the faintly vibrating gong to sound loudly.
From behind her, through the ringing in her ears and the fuzz between them, she heard Sezithorum say softly, “Well, that is not quite what I expected, but I suppose it will have to do.”
Tiska weakly lifted her head to look toward the door of the room. There was another subcircle scribed on the floor at the east end, designated for the arrival. Where she expected to see a large and muscular man, she instead saw a short, slender man, hastily dismounting from a very short, but equally slender woman, who bounced directly from being flat on her back to being on her feet, as soon as the man was out of the way.
Although they were both naked, and he was still visibly aroused, they separated slightly and set themselves defensively. He spoke angrily in a strange language; the words were unintelligible, but the sentiment was clear.
Tiska was mortified. Self-recriminations filled her head again, warring with each other. “Is that because I couldn’t hold out?” she asked faintly.
“It is possible, but do not fault yourself. It was a complex ritual, there were many things that were not precisely as enumerated, and I rushed us, not permitting the proper day of preparation,” he said, standing, then continued, muttering mostly to himself. “It may be that they are both powerful warriors, and the fact that they were joined when the spell found them… But no equipment!”
The strange man barked at them again, and Sezithorum jerked. “Ah, right, language.” He made a brushing motion toward the floor, and the blue light faded. He stepped forward around the cushion and spoke more magical syllables. It was clearly a strain, after the exertion of the summoning.
Opening his eyes again, he addressed their new companions. “My apologies for relocating you from your homeland, but we require your assistance.” Their postures changed visibly, now that they could understand what was being said. Tiska propped herself up on her elbows to look at them.
The male was slightly shorter than Sezithorum, and lean. Not like the wizard’s aged thin frame, or that of Roji, still growing and borderline scrawny. He was well-muscled, with delicate bone structure. His blazing green eyes drew up to points at the outside, and his ears drew up to even more significant points. Tiska had a hard time judging his age; somewhere between 20 and completely indeterminate. His hair was long, straight and black, in stark contrast to his pale skin, and tied with a leather thong to hang down his back. His eyebrows were similarly thin, delicate, and black, but there was no other hair visible anywhere on his body. Either he was diligent about removing it, or whatever he was, he didn’t grow any.
Despite being exhausted, Tiska was still wound up from the ritual, and was attracted to him even before her eyes reached his groin. His erection was fading, but it was still significant. It looked as smooth as ivory, but the most significant thing about it was that it was missing its foreskin. The collar that typically covered the head was completely absent!
The female shifted position, sizing Sezithorum up, and drawing Tiska’s attention. Tiska was not tall, by any means, but this woman’s head would only reach to Tiska’s chest. And “woman” clearly was the correct term. Judging by her facial features, she appeared to be around the end of her third decade, but more significantly, her proportions were correct for an adult; she had distinct breasts, hips, and a small, dark patch of pubic hair. If she hadn’t been standing next to the male, Tiska would have thought she was of normal height.
The shape of her ears echoed his, but muted; pointed, but not as strongly. Her eyes were immense dark pools, flickering between the three of them. Her skin was dark with a slight greenish tint, and her shoulder length hair showed thumb-thick horizontal stripes of black and white, which presented an interesting effect as she moved.
“We are in need of great warriors, and have none in this world,” Sezithorum continued. “Thus we were forced to summon you to aid us. I regret that we were unable to acquire your permission at the outset, but you will be rewarded for your efforts. To that end, I–” the wizard broke off with a grunt. He doubled over as if punched in the stomach, his mouth open wide and his eyes bulging out. With another BAMF and accompanying gong, he vanished.
Tags: Lavender, Maress, Roji, Sezithorum, Tiska
