Kink University - Ch. 25 - Bubble

Chapter 25 - Bubble

I awoke in a slightly different position than how I had fallen asleep. I was now on my side, playing the part of much littler spoon in the arms of Namali-the huge ceratopsian with soft scales over warm brown skin, black hair, dual-hooked beak, and a pair of horns below her head-crest. It was hard to believe that just yesterday she had been the one to literally lock horns with me and then throw me over her head. Now she held me in a vice-grip of quite a different sort. Had I been at all claustrophobic when it came to being held, this would have triggered it. As I was, however, the feeling of her heavy arm and leg keeping me immovably in place-aided by her shoulder and hip pinning me down-felt very comforting. I was sure that I would have been having a panic attack right now were it not for all that and her warm breath blowing down my back. The only unpleasantness that felt came from the trauma bubble in my head-which I tried not to pay too much mind to-and my aching breasts, which had not yet been milked.

From where I was, I thought I could see lines scratched into the wood paneling of the room-just under the level of the hay floor. I would have liked to see what this was, but there was of course no moving in my current position. So I just waited and tried not to think too much as I remained in Namali's embrace.

It was probably a half-hour before Namali's breathing changed, letting me know that she was awake. Instead of releasing me, however, she began to gently lick my shoulder in broad movements. This tickled a little at first, but I gradually fell into a lulled state of gentle pleasure. I then felt her hands around my breasts, gently squeezing until milk sprayed out of them. This created a certain energy in the room-the both warm and cooling healing aura the spray of my milk produced.

The moment was interrupted when I heard the door to the stall suddenly open. I jumped, but Namali gently pulled me into herself. When my heart-rate had gone down, Namali finally released me and sat up.

I glanced again at the open door, finding that there was nobody there. Only in the open center-room did I see the movement of the other ponygirls. They and their mares were gathering around a trough. After another moment, I smelled food.

I glanced at Namali to see if we would be joining. I was surprised to see that Namali had a finger in her sex. She did not seem embarrassed that I had seen her and, upon closer look, she did not seem to be pleasuring herself. After a few seconds, she removed her finger, moved a bit closer to me, and then traced a line of her juices across my face. This did arouse me ... and made me wonder—between this, how we had eaten, and her behavior with the farmhands-if it was signs of ownership that were important to her.

Finally, Namali stood and took hold of my leash. She led me to the feeding trough, where all the other ponygirls and mares (the latter of whom were of multiple genders), were eating quietly. All of them still had their leather bits in and I was more certain than ever that speaking was not allowed here. Still, they communicated with waves and smiles and gestures when needed.

I stayed behind and close to Namali as we approached. When she sat down, I immediately knelt and shuffled over so that I was beneath her in the same way we had been before. As a result, I felt a few gentle strokes of approval on my head.

The other ponygirls and mares regarded me with some curiosity. A human woman cozied up to one of the catgirls waved at me.

I looked up at Namali, just to be sure it was alright. To my surprise, she didn't seem to mind in the least and just softly nodded her head. So I waved back.

I then waited for the first handful of food to come my way. Today's breakfast was eggs with torn bits of bread-all mixed together. As with the food the night before, it was delicious. When we were both finished, I took Namali's hand in my own and licked it clean of the remaining food debris. This earned me another affectionate touch on the head and, to my surprise, the leash being unwrapped from my collar.

Namali then stood and walked back toward her ... our ... stall.

I followed close behind. Once inside, Namali went to the far side of the room-near the wooden bathroom box. She stood in the center of that half of the room, fell into (somewhat ironically) a horse-stance, and then closed her eyes.

I paused for a moment, unsure as to what I was supposed to do, and then finally decided to face and mirror her.

When Namali opened her eyes, however, she nearly jumped a little bit.

My heart began to race, and I tried to mutter and apology before remembering that I still had the piece of leather keeping me from making real words. Face red with embarrassment and unexplainable guilt, I retreated to the other side of the room to lay on the blankets. Though it felt stupid and childish, tears still welled in my eyes as I tried to deal with the waves of emotions that were the regular result of my failing in social situations ... and the feelings of danger and rejection that always came with that. And even though I knew that what was happening was a trauma response, it didn't mean I could stop feeling overwhelmed. There was nothing I could do except wait it out.

After a few seconds, however, I felt a familiar touch on my arm. Still nervous, I wiped my face with my arm and turned around.

Namali was staring at me with a slightly confused but gentle expression. She traced from my ear to my jawline before giving a little nod. Then she took my hand in hers to help me stand up.

I followed as she guided me back exactly to where we had been standing. There, she took my opposite hand in hers as well and fell again into the horse-stance. From there, she waited for me.

Hesitating for just a moment, I also fell into the crouching position. The strain of it was a bit more intense than what she showed in her very serene expression, but I still managed.

Namali then began to stare into my eyes-it was the most direct her attention had been since we'd fought. For a moment, this energy was all there was. Then, gradually, she began to seem ... taller. I tore my attention away for an instant and looked around at my surroundings, her legs, and my body. When I did so, everything suddenly seemed as it had been. But when I looked back at her face, I and everything around me seemed to become small once again.

I noticed when the way Namali stared at me began to change. It wasn't long before her countenance was no longer that of patience and empathy. No ... she was now staring down at me with unbridled lust. It was every bit as heavy as her body had been upon waking-pressing me down helplessly where I was.

To my surprise, this did not make the strain on my thighs from the stance worse. If anything, it made it more and more bearable. Until I found myself tumbling forward-exactly opposite the direction gravity should have made me fall.

Namali caught me in her arms, and then twirled me around as if in the final dip of a dance. From there, I could see her smiling almost mischievously at me.

I thought for a moment that this had been some kind of mind trick. Then I looked down to see all the straw beneath us piled up around Namali's ankles. This was a type of magic! Though I had no doubt that Namali was strong enough to have thrown me over her head with her muscles alone, I now thought that this magic had been what helped her make short work of our fight. After all, it wasn't as if I was a tiny person who could be easily thrown with one's neck muscles alone. No matter how chiseled and sexy said neck might be.

Namali helped me to my spot again and then returned to her crouch. Without her ability to communicate how she accomplished this magic, I did feel a little clueless in how to imitate it. The first thing I tried was to imitate the look she gave me. I tried to feel myself looking at her like she was mine ... only to again fall forward into her.

Namali caught me again, this time smiling even more broadly-as if just short of giggling. She shook her head at me as she helped me to stand back up. Once also standing, she tapped her lower beak for a moment. Then she beckoned me to one of the wooden walls. There she crouched and began to feel around in the hay until she found a nail. With the tool in hand, she began to scratch into the bottom baseboard.

The etching she made of herself was skillfully done. I could not have guessed by her large fingers and crude drawing instrument how dexterously she would be able to recreate a full-body image of herself. Namali then glanced at me and began to make an equally elegant sketch that reflected me-complete with horns and tail.

Once Namali was finished, she gently pulled me in front, took my hand in hers, and then manipulated my index finger so that I was tracing the outline of her. She started by having me trace her head a few times-my guess was that she was emphasizing her mind. She then traced a line specifically down from the eyes down to the image of me. After circling around me once, she then traced the previous line-returning through the eyes back into the body. Namali then began to circle her body faster, then back to me through the gaze, then back at her. Over and over until I thought I realized what she was trying to communicate.

This magic, it seemed, functioned somewhat like a centrifuge-gaining power as it span faster and faster between the caster and its target. So even before I knew I was being hit by the spell, it would already be charging up.

I wrinkled my brow and saw a few problems with my ability to cast this magic. First, it seemed that Namali had really emphasized the downward momentum of her gaze to me. And that made sense, especially with her being quite dominant in her energies. Being submissive, was it even possible to make myself the center of such a gravitational force? My second issue was ... well ... my mind. Even at the best of times, energy did not pass cleanly through or around my brain. My healing and shapeshifting magics worked for me because they were the results of things I felt in my body and the far recesses of my mind. But especially now, the trauma bubble was a block that forced out everything-even my own thoughts.

Not wanting to ruin her picture by drawing over it, I tried to trace what I was trying to say. I pressed my thumb hard against my portrayed head and made dense circles around it until I was tracing beyond the outline of my skull. I then faced Namali and let my near-perpetual facade of okayness fall. It was ... embarrassing, but letting my inner wounds appear on my face was the only way I knew to communicate the issue.

Namali studied my face for a moment and then placed a palm on either side of my head. She closed her eyes for a moment and then gave a solemn nod. She stood and took me by the hand closer to our sleeping place, covered by blankets. There, she dug out a little of the hay to reveal far more intricate and life-like drawings of other ceratopsians. After the level of quality, the second thing I noticed were jagged lines that came from each ceratopsian's mouth. This was the case for all of them, whether illustrated to seem happy, sad, angry, or with no discernable expression. Namali then pointed to one that was clearly a drawing of her (the only one without jagged lines coming from her mouth) and pressed her thumb as I had into the image of her ears.

I nodded, beginning to understand.

Namali was not finished, however. She then showed me another picture-this time of a city that I recognized as the one we were in, the Other Place. Again, all the elves, dwarves, halflings, orcs, and everything else had violent lines coming from their mouths, no matter their emotional expressions.

Part of me had wondered about the topic the naga and orc had been discussing earlier-why Namali let herself be brought here when it was clear that she was probably plenty strong enough to make an escape.

Now it made sense to me. Here, speaking was not done or possibly not even allowed. It was a quiet place of only nonverbal communication. And even when pulling the chariot, it was likely that the sound of the wheels and stomping drowned most everything else out. It seemed to me that Namali was saying that she experienced severe sensory overload-specifically when it came to people speaking. Because she never drew herself with anything but a closed mouth without lines, I also now wondered if she was nonverbal.

Namali then guided me back to the drawing she had just made of the two of us. Nail again in hand, she drew the same violent squiggle lines near the bottoms of her ears as around the mouths of those shown speaking in earlier pictures. When she had finished, she tapped the squiggle lines twice and then began to recreate them so that they were just taller even than the picture of her. When she had finished, however, I no longer saw violent squiggle lines. I saw ... a mountain that surrounded the picture of Namali like an aura. It was fitting ... in illustrating both the impressive nature of Namali herself, as well as the heft of the magic she wielded.

Namali turned me around so that we were again facing one another. She took the pointed end of the nail and non-threateningly pretended to poke at my head with it. Namali then shook her own head and closed her eyes. She was right ... popping the bubble in my head was not a possibility.

I grimaced and nodded in agreement.

However, Namali then tapped the squiggles under her depicted ears, and then traced them to the overall picture of herself. I thought I understood. The squiggles of pain and the mountain were one and the same to her. Finally, she lightly etched a bubble in the way I had traced it-almost like a halo-and then recreated a bigger one that encircled my etched form from my knees to over the top of my head.

Like the mountain was her aura, the trauma bubble ... it was mine. I supposed ... she was right in a way. It wasn't a foreign agent that had been planted there by an abuser or anything else. It was a protective measure, something I had made on some unconscious level to protect myself. And like Namali, maybe I could turn it into something new.

I took a deep breath and returned to where I had stood to try the magic before. There, I again took a horse stance. I only stayed like that for a moment, though, before I realized that it felt wrong. It was good for Namali because it was a strong stance for a magic that drew on her sense of power. My own sense of power came from a place far more counterintuitive.

I knelt and looked up at Namali-towering over me with a studious expression. From this position, I began to feel my sense of arousal circulate in my body. From what I saw of her, to what arousal she felt reflected back at me as she watched, to my own body, and back into my sight of her. This was slow at first. But the longer I stared and allowed myself to be immersed in the moment, the faster the rotation of energy became. Until I was sure that, even if she had not been there, the magic could have circulated through me alone.

That must have been why Namali had been closing her eyes and practicing alone ... because the other participant wasn't necessary. It was an aid ... but the source of all magic power here was in one's connection to themself.

There was only one thing left to do-something I'd been learning and slowly getting better at since I'd nearly drowned. Instead of trying to suppress the trauma bubble ... I surrendered to it and let go. I felt the bubble expand past my head and into the room. While I still felt the stress and despair and past pain that had created the bubble in the first place, it was no longer the singular sensation that defined my experience of the moment.

There was an immediate pulsation of energy that sent ripples around the room. Dust and pieces of straw all bounced gently toward my head-instead of around my ankles like what happened for the mountain of strength that was Namali. The magic also wasn't nearly as powerful as hers ... but it had worked!

I looked up at Namali and smiled.

Namali looked back at me-also smiling like she was ... proud.

The gaze between us lingered. Before I even knew what I was doing, my magic was making its rotations again. From what I could feel from Namali, hers was doing the same. In seconds, both of us let off another pulse of magic-locking into one another and pulling more strongly than either would have alone or even cumulatively.

With a jolt-my body was sent in a kneeling slide over the hay.

Namali likewise slid forward as she stood-having to fall into her previous horse-stance just to keep from tumbling.

We were left with me kneeling directly under her. And we wasted no time.

I looped my arms behind her legs and pressed my mouth into her already dripping sex. I licked hungrily at it, my feelings of arousal amplified and sent into overdrive by the magic.

Simultaneously, Namali grabbed onto the back of my head and began to grind powerfully against my face. Her motions made no distinctions as to trying to aim at my mouth. From forehead to chin, she slid across the entirety of my face-making a trail as she went. I tried eagerly to get as much of her juices into my mouth as I could.

After a few minutes, though, I felt myself being turned around, my head pressed forcefully into the hay. Instinctively, I presented myself-sticking my ass as high as I could get it.

Namali began to grind her sex against my ass. I suppose it was rather like tribbing but ... doggystyle. Like with my face, she was not content to just grind there, however. Her movements sent her sliding from the back of my leg, up my ass, and all the way to my lower back before sliding back down.

I almost let out a squeal before I remembered Namali's sensitivities. So, instead, I opted for letting out needy whimpers, which only increased when I felt her fingers begin to slide from my girlstick to my ass. It didn't take much of this before my body began to tremble in orgasm, I struggled for breath as my body seemed to explode from within.

Namali wasn't done, however. Once again, she tossed me forcefully onto my other side so that I was face-up. Nearly tackling me, she knelt so that she was sitting on my face and began to make frantic, needy motions over it-rapidly numbing the skin and making it hard to get in a breath. Namali grabbed onto my legs as well, so I had absolutely no control as she continued to lay claim to me. Finally, she let out a heavy grunt and squirted a torrent of fluid over my face and torso. Only after a minute or so of remaining frozen on top of me, did she finally let herself collapse at my side.

-O-

After hours more of practicing magic, fucking, occasionally eating, and then fucking some more, Namali and I found ourselves laying peacefully on the blankets in her stall. She had again dug up some of the hay to show me her drawings. They illustrated her lands, the lake near where she grew up, and the very prehistoric-looking animals near there. Then she revealed a crude sort of map that she had drawn.

I might not have recognized where it was, except for the perfect triangle of replica buildings that were the Temple of Kavtagro and its limitations in the University and the Other Place.

Namali pointed at herself and then traced a finger a long way to the east of the temple-where she had drawn the sketch of her people's city. She then looked at me with curiosity.

I pointed my finger at the Temple of Kavatgro ... and then traced my way to Kink University.

Namali then took my hand in hers and then traced it down to the Other Place. She then looked at me, holding my hand in hers. It ... seemed as if she was asking something.

I bit my lower lip, beginning to suspect what the question was. I exhaled heavily, and then rooted around in the hay until I found some short pieces of straw. I counted them out ... one for me, one for Daava, one for Mystery, one for Faublien, and one for Zolreya-my newfound family ... my ... home. I stuck these other pieces of straw near Kink University before pressing the one for me near the Other Place. I then trailed the piece of straw that represented me back from the Other Place to the university. With another heavy exhale, I looked back up at Namali, afraid of how she would take it.