A Different Kind of Dungeon Master

So, I didn't interrogate her when she stopped and sat still, messily brushing her hair out of her face, and panted, "I... I did it... I've never actually... with another person... before... I... Seth..." she leaned down and kissed me heavily on the mouth. "Oh my god. That was...."

I took the die out of her hand and tossed it onto the floor.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh." Rachel leaned over to retrieve it. "It's a fourteen."

"On his turn, Prince Bastidio says, 'If you wanted to face the floor, you only had to say so,' and he grabs you, rotates you around a hundred and eighty degrees, and shoves you forward so your face is up against the bed. You can roll to resist, but you'll do it with disadvantage from being all doped up on afterglow."

Rachel kept panting for breath, for the first time looking overwhelmed by simple arithmetic and stage directions.

"Or," I reminded her, "of course you can still use your—"

"I'm not using the magic teleporting safeword," Rachel stopped me.

She shifted her hips, seeming to regain her awareness of me inside her, still hard and unfinished.

"Sorry," she said, "I'll... of course I'll roll. I have to roll, right?"

"No, you don't have to fight him if you don't want to."

"Right. Okay. Well, I got mine, and I don't think I'm actively fighting to sabotage the containment of Hell, so I think I just want to give him what he wants."

"Get on your knees, then."

Rachel complied, unsteady but unhesitating. Neither of us were quite agile enough to fully act out the move I'd described, shifting from cowgirl to doggie without pulling out in between, but we got to the same place eventually, and I got the pleasure of sliding myself back into her from the new angle.

She moaned again softly and laid her upper body down on the bed as I did so. Her ass was still propped up for me, her knees firmly under her, but her back arched downward from there, catlike and graceful, to where her head, with glasses askew, rested on one outstretched arm. She looked altogether blissfully content.

For the first time since we'd started, I let myself look at her just to marvel, rather than to anticipate or argue or instruct.

Fuck, she was beautiful. She was so much more beautiful than I'd ever let myself acknowledge while clinging to the safety of her friendship. I would have lost my grip if I had.

This view of her felt too perfect to exist anywhere, let alone in my bedroom, laid out so trustingly, generously, almost gratefully, just for me.

It was a bizarre thing, to be regarded with gratitude for something I would have given anything to do.

There were times, even in the course of ordinary DM-ing, when I felt my head start to spin at the responsibility involved. Rachel and the rest of our ever-cycling set of adventuring companions implanted fragments of their souls into these characters they crafted, and placed them freely into my hands. They gave me permission to break their hearts if the story and the dice demanded it, and when they were finished cursing me, they thanked me, for making them feel.

The feelings were real, but I could always at least technically tell myself that it was "only" a game. "Only" make-believe.

This time was maybe kinda-sorta a little less "only" than usual.

The weight of that pressed down on me, but also steadied me, like one of those balance poles tightrope walkers used, as I took my last penetrative turn of the encounter.

While I rubbed myself against the soft, wet, post-orgasmic walls of her pussy, Rachel hummed happily to herself, vocally registering pleasure of a new, languid, unurgent variety.

I paid attention to every detail, trying to engrave them into my memory, every breath, every glance and smile she shot up at me, the smoothness of her skin under my fingers, and the snug curve of her around me.

I didn't even make it to fifteen seconds.

The orgasm I'd put off for so many moves hit me like an avalanche, sending shiny blurs across my vision and making me clutch Rachel's beautiful hips just to hold myself upright.

I stayed where I was, floating in shimmering clouds of magic, until it felt feasible that I might be able to move without falling. Then I slid out of her, let myself collapse on the bed beside her, and reached down for the box of tissues I kept beside it.

While we passed the box back and forth, cleaning ourselves, catching our breath, I pieced words together in an almost comforting act of habit.

"At the same moment when Prince Bastidio finishes inside you, you feel a final, magical energy surge, emanating out of that same place," I spread my hands outward to illustrate. "Then it stops. The waves already in progress continue to spread out toward the bounds of his domain, leaving a peaceful stillness in their wake. You get the sense that this place is now secure, for better or worse, at least for now."

Rachel rolled over and propped her head up to smile at me. For a moment, I thought she was going to tease me for bothering with the conclusion.

Then she said, "What about the sins of that guy I was looking into? Earnest Kniles?"

"You never figured out about that," I said. "Maybe next session."

"Next session, huh?" Rachel asked with a significant smirk, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Okay."

I lay back on the bed, and she cuddled up next to me.

Our breathing synchronized, slow and steady, until I started to wonder whether she had fallen asleep.

Then, "So, what now?"

She was asking me. Not the demon prince Bastidio, not the DM controlling Bastidio. Just me. Just Seth.

I felt my shoulders pull up toward a shrug, even with her head resting on my chest. Every functioning system of my body and mind was engaging, with the sole shared purpose of locking me back into the same safe cell where I'd kept myself for the duration of our friendship.

I forced myself to speak the first words I could grasp.

"Roll for insight."

***

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