Majutsu-shi no Chikara Ch. 13

Her eye for quality flesh to please carnal appetites was rivaled only by her devotion to gaudy finery, even in the earliest hours of morning. In truth, she had retired for the night just before sunset, and she left a swarthy pair of handsome rogues and bouncers to keep her peace until morning. Now, having just freshened herself from fitful sleep, she was sipping steaming cha mixed with an elixir she purchased from an apothecary that frequented her establishment.

"Hina-chan seems to think this is worth my time." Mistress Cosima set her cha elixir aside and ruffled her sleeves, the painting of her face doing little to mask the spots and wrinkles on her bony arms.

"Abhi..." Damon wheezed, trying to whisper and suddenly dreading the prospect of pleasuring the madam. "...please..."

"Get his seed in you, and you'll see." Abhilash puffed her chest out proudly, thrusting Damon before her like a prize to be admired. "Even if you drink it, it works the same."

Having been taken by many charlatans but also knowing that sorcerers were no great rarity along the Pilgrim's Road, Mistress Cosima narrowed black-painted eyelids and frowned her wrinkled mouth. Had it not been for Hina-chan's recommendation, she wouldn't bother to even entertain the matter -- but a whore's good advice should not be ignored out-of-hand.

"How often can he perform this trick of his?" She cast her gaze up at Damon, who flinched under her scrutiny.

"I'm not certain, yet." Damon admitted, still desperate to get back to a bed and sleep. "I... I came several times, last night, before... well, I managed to... uh..."

"Spit it out, boy. My time is worth more than your pimp is asking." She nodded toward Abhilash, Cosima's face a stern and unreadable painted mask that still gave him the impression of a scowl.

"I haven't had time to test my limits, but..." Damon licked his lips, suddenly terribly thirsty. "...I've already come twice, just being brought here."

This caused the madam's brow to raise, and a low scoff issued from her mouth.

"Such a waste of youthful vigor." She sighed, lifting a hand toward him. "Let's see it."

He fumbled his pants down over his hips and let them slide to the floor. The head of his dick was still wet, sticky from those two orgasms. When she beckoned, he shuffled forward and sucked a breath in through clenched teeth as she casually grasped his cock with an expert hand.

She didn't jerk, twist, or in any way handle him with anything other than clinical coolness. Just as he was about to ask her if she wanted a demonstration, she looked up at his face and said as much.

"When did you plan on showing me this trick, boy? I haven't got all day." Her mouth barely moved, and the makeup painted on her face was just as inscrutable as before.

He orgasmed, his cock swelling to hardness in the first spasm -- a side-effect he was glad of and simultaneously worried about -- before finishing with another two spurts and clenches, his knees feeling wobbly and his mouth very dry.

Unimpressed, Cosima looked at the streams and strands of seed that had spattered her robes, and was about to comment on just how unremarkable it was when, as her mouth opened to say it, he orgasmed again and shot his seed into her mouth before she had the presence of mind to aim his impudent prick away from herself.

Caught off-guard and none too shy, she swallowed Damon's seed and composed herself to give the young buck a severe telling-off... until her body flushed with sudden, unexpected and uncontrollable heat and her breath was stolen from her by a violent climax.

It was inelegant and indecorous, most certainly not refined, haughty, or business-like at all, for Mistress Cosima to suddenly grunt and shiver as if at the tail end of a marathon of vigorous fornicating. Damon was grimly satisfied to have surprised her, then. Ashamed of himself, too, but satisfied that she at least knew that Abhilash's claims had not been... over-blown.

...

"What's the catch?" She managed to regain her composure, her loins still tingling in a way she'd only been able to experience chemically for the last decade. "Your flesh and magic limits aside... are you wanted? Fugitives of the Crown? The Guild?"

"No." Damon panted, shaking his head, even as Abhilash knelt and pulled his hips to her face.

"Now for me." The ork snarled up at him and took his still-hard cock into her mouth and tongued him.

He didn't have time to refuse, and he hadn't managed to "fix" the activation of his orgasmic enchantment... so when his prick was engulfed by the firm, wet heat of Abhilash's mouth, and he glanced down as her gleaming yellow eyes staring hungrily at him... he came again. Then, for good measure and because a part of him was feeling especially self-destructive, he came again almost immediately.

Abhilash's eyes rolled back in her head, and he thought she might choke to death on his seed. Grunting and panting, she fell senselessly backward and lay twitching on the floor. Preoccupied with the sight of her, he felt genuine arousal and orgasmed a seventh time that morning. He felt dizzy, and then collapsed.

"An interesting, though not entirely unexpected consequence." Cosima's lips pursed and she huffed again, clearly the wisest person in a room full of fools.

...

He was able to tend eight to ten clients in a day, once word got out about the ready rod that could stir even the coldest female loins. A few clients even paid a little extra to bring a husband or valet hoping to learn the secret. Though such patrons ultimately met with a sort of professional disappointment, they never said they felt the coin was wasted. The greatest difficulty he faced was in keeping himself from fainting of thirst.

Damon also learned that the magic he'd used to regenerate his sexual prowess functioned the same on his hands and throat -- which he'd healed in similar fashion that same day. First, when he'd burnt his mouth and throat with too-hot cha, and the stinging in his neck faded too quickly. Then, when he'd grabbed a splinter on the edge of the door on his way to bed, that night. He didn't even have time to pluck the sliver from his hand, as the invading barb wriggled backward from his skin and the pain stopped. To test the matter further, he'd pricked the back of his hand with a sewing needle. Then cut the back of his hand with a freshly-sharpened kitchen knife. Each time, the blood welled up from the wound and the wound closed behind it. He became more cautious after that, as he knew the healing process demanded more of him in ways he didn't yet understand.

...

They'd pulled together enough coin to purchase a couple stout mules and a small cart, and plenty of dry goods, grain, jarred fruits, and waxed cheese to last a week or so, as well as some proper traveling apparel. The clothing they'd purchased first, as the cobblers, tailors, and leather-worker needed time to cut, stitch, and fit them properly as Mistress Cosima demanded.

For her part, the madam was far less stern, far more affable, and only on one other occasion did she even ask Damon to tender her his service. Apart from that, she took her cut of the coin and quietly waited for the day they would leave... or some calamity would befall while they remained.

On the tenth day, Damon resolved to leave. Not that the work was especially difficult. Many of the females paying coin to mount him had no interest in pleasantries, romance, mystery, or any trappings he considered vital to whoring... They had heard his cock could spurt instant climax and they wanted to sample the truth of it for themselves. A few were repeat customers; specifically, one dwarf female who ran a merchant's catamaran on the River. On her second visit, she explained that it seemed only fair that, since she'd ridden the River so often, she might as well ride the Serpent more than once.

...

She called herself Mateja Radinka Meier, Owner of the Forge Spitter. The catamaran ran from Tsuro to Renks Cairn twice a moon, and specialized in rare minerals, gems, and the odd magical parcel for the Guild. Artisans and smiths of any stripe paid her "adequate" duty for the service, and much of her work was seasonal contracts moving crude minerals from the coast inland for refining; worked goods or purified metals for weapons or armor downriver to the Capital on the return voyage. Upriver usually took five or six days, downriver often less than three. Most rotations she spent less than three days in port. Her first two visits to the brothel were on a lark, having heard the first rumors of Damon's residence at the Fancy just as she was taking a half-tonne of prepared steel blanks, sheets for plating, and assorted rivets, bolts, links, and nails meant for top-coin trades. She delayed her departure by two days, meaning to have only delayed the one day until she'd had her first mind-twisting climax atop a human strip of a male unlike anything she'd ever known.

She returned the second day and paid a small ransom to bedevil Damon the entire morning. When she could speak clearly, she would whinge and groan about the "old goats" of male dwarves whose cocks were responsible for the name, and how much a pity it was Damon's "immense" girth wasn't also accompanied by such dwarvish length. If Damon hadn't seen her aforehand, he might have heard her talking and thought her one of Abhilash's sisters putting-on a strange voice.

Mateja had white-blonde hair, thickly plaited behind her head but for the hair running down the sides of her face. She was as wide as Abhilash at shoulders and hips, but only half the height of the she-ork. She could stare just at Damon's navel, if they were toe to toe, but the brawny dwarf could easily lift him over her head and heave him onto the pallet before leaping astride him as if he were some unruly palfrey. She could easily have weighed as much as his ork lover, with limbs at least as thick as his and solid muscle so corded she looked chiseled from a block of granite. Mateja also had the pallor of most far-northern tribes to go with her blonde locks. When he mentioned her hair, she asked him if he liked it... admitting the intrigue was no great matter, and she didn't blush to hear but asked him to touch her hair. The long tresses running like great strands of corn silk at the sides of her face were the makings of a beard, but it never reached her chin. He found such a thing curious and couldn't hide the confusion on his face.

"Never seen a bunch of dwarven lads in a mercenary company?" She'd asked, bouncing with a crushing rhythm on his pelvis. "Bunch of graybeards and bare-chinned 'boys' they all call 'lad'?"

Damon shook his head, having only met a handful of dwarves in his life, and never meeting, seeing, or listening to a company of mercenaries (dwarven or otherwise).

"Careful, if you ever do, then." Mateja had been near drooling, her tongue loosening with each successive climax aboard the human's seed-fountain. "Graybeards don't fancy anyone making a fuss with any of their lads... but I think... oh, fuckin' hael do that again..."

When she finally collapsed panting and soaked in sweat atop him, she'd caressed the wiry scars on his chest and face.

"Come with me." She blushed drunkenly at him. "I'll pay you a gold sovereign to be my bed-mate until I get back to Renks Cairn."

...

"You should have taken the money." Abhilash belched, her green-brown face almost purple from drink. "We could use that kind of coin. It's a long trek north."

"Yes, and cold. You've said." Ginga frowned at them both. "I don't... well, I can't really say we should stop now, can I? But I don't like it."

"She's not unpleasant." Damon only shook his head, throwing back his mead and then an almost-boiling cha before picking idly at his food. "Maybe we should sail down to Tsuro."

"And board a freighter going north?" Ginga raised a dark brow at him. "Not just so you can be balls-deep in dwarf quim for three days?"

"Well, it would be better than the one lady what left weeping like she'd been skelped raw." Damon gestured in the emphatic and meaningless way humans do.

"Fuck off, really?!" Abhilash chortled. "When did that happen?"

"First time you barged in, you damned lunatic." Damon sneered at her. "Cum drunk, you are. Sotted on me and it's making you thick."

He tapped the side of his head, to punctuate his meaning. Abhilash snorted again.

"That's your fault, too, then." She growled.

"None of that." Ginga snapped, gazing between them as though scolding children. "We agreed to this road, and you're the one with the magic blade and dreams of conquest... you have a dick problem; that's your own doing."

"And you don't?" Abhilash retorted, wolf-yellow eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm with the man I love." She wrapped an arm through Damon's as he continued to pick at his meal. "What more reason do I need to love his cock or any other part of him, and go where he goes?"

"So cure me." the she-ork turned to Damon. "Cure me of this hunger for you."

"I didn't make it. How would I unmake it?" Damon eyed her quizzically. "Aren't we travelling together to free you from a curse? I didn't put it there, but I've agreed to this... your freedom, or death on the road to it, you said."

This seemed to act as a slap to Abhilash, and her head turned quickly away.

"I'm sick of waiting." She grumbled at last. "We have some coin, we should buy a mule, load it down and head north."

"I think we should go to the Capital." Ginga shook her head. "We might... we could disappear more easily, that way."

"No." Abhilash was firm. "I'm not going out on the Great Water."

"The Great... the sea?" Damon could scarcely believe what he saw and heard. "Are you... you're afraid of the sea?"

"I cannot fight in water if I cannot reach the bottom." Abhilash frowned deeply, looking down into her now-empty mug.

"Well, that's true for anybody." Ginga waved. "You ken how to swim, ne?"

"I swim." Abhilash nodded, as if exploring a profound truth. "But we will not go out on the Great Water... this sea of yours. We will follow the trade roads, or the coast line. A river barge, I would take... but nothing on the sea."

"I'm sure the ships are safer than..." Damon thought maybe he could sway her, but she cut ahead of him on the subject.

"How would I save you, or her, if the Gods cast the boat below the water?" Abhilash snarled, her voice rumbling deep in her breast. "Swim one or both of you to shore, and fight how? No. No, going on a ship... anywhere wider or deeper than this river, this Serpent as you call it... that is stupid."

"I think I understand." Ginga could only meet Damon's eyes and shrug, but he made no reply.

The sorcerer kept his deeper thoughts to himself. He wasn't entirely sure he agreed... but he felt the pangs of fear stirred to life at Abhilash's visceral argument.

"Ok, so we don't sail north. Maybe we can get a map or better directions..." Damon started again, only to be interrupted by the temperamental she-ork.

"I know the way north, from the eastern mountains." She belched, waving to one of the harlots to bring her another tankard of the darker beer she had begun to favor. "I can lead us north."

"Through the mountains?" Damon grunted down into his own mug of watered-down wine. "You're both with child, and you'd risk such a rugged march? No, I disagree."

"Sidero traveled south that way." She sneered at him, her hand making the iron mug groan in her hand. "It would not be difficult for a stronger sorcerer."

"I'm not risking her." Damon gripped Ginga's leg beside him, then stared defiantly into those yellow, wolfish orbs. "And I'm not risking you just for the sake of your orkish pride."

This caught the ork by surprise, for it was not an easy thing to keep in mind. His concern for her was still alien and largely unbelievable... stupid. Idiotic, even. She blushed again and worked her jaw before taking the new drink brought to her and knocking the lot of it back in a single breath, some of the foam and dark brown liquid spilling around her tusks and down her neck. Damon's pulse quickened, watching those syrupy streams of suds and beer running along her brown-green skin -- the muscles of her neck and over her collar bones, down below the neck of her tunic and between the massive breasts hidden beneath. Breasts he could see with his mind's eye almost as clearly as if she were naked before him, so often had he seen them in the last two ten-days.

He squeezed Ginga's thigh a little harder and she slipped her hand over his swelling crotch. She recognized the way he was looking at the ork... recognized it as the primal lust that clouded his face every time he got hard looking at either of them. Like some part of him was fogging his thoughts with a waking dream.

"A softer road for soft humans, then." Abhilash sneered at him, her mug empty and she belched loudly, long enough that Ginga and Damon both grimaced at the malty odor on her breath.

"A softer road and more time on a hard cock." Ginga amended, giving the ork a knowing smirk.

That sold Abhilash to the idea. She hadn't considered the humans' fatigue as an obstacle -- except that it had been at times. If the sorcerer was too tired -- or too annoyed -- to rut every night, what would that do for her? Had she become truly drunk and enslaved to the power of his seed? The ork scowled at the notion, not for the first time.

"Fine. Soft road, plenty of hard cock." Abhilash nodded at last and pointed a threatening claw at Damon's heart. "And you'll make that rut-stick proper big."

"I'll... I'll work on it." Damon flushed with a bit of shame and anger, even though Ginga was silently laughing (and very loudly smiling) beside him.

"You'll have to be able to reverse that, as well." She whispered, making a show of being discreet and breathy in his ear. "For my sake."

"She'll like it, too. All females crave a larger rut-stick." Abhilash snarled, impish humor curling the corners of her mouth as Ginga blushed at her. "Don't they?"

"He is plenty manly and able." Ginga defended him, though he wasn't quite certain it was deserved. "And not all females are built so big as you that they need a fence post twixt their legs to feel satisfied."

"You mean dwarf bitches?" Abhilash barked laughter. "They call their men 'goats', I hear. Is that not so, sorcerer?"

"Abhi." Damon gave the ork a sidelong, dangerous glare. "That's enough."

"What? I only mean..."

"I know what you mean. I already agreed to see out a ten-day, with Mistress Cosima." He continued. "Ser Meier, the dwarf merchant you clearly mean, has asked that we remain that long, also. She'll try to woo me to join her again, of course... there's no reason to refuse her coin, if it isn't going to cause issue for either of you."

"I don't like any of this." Ginga shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "It's been difficult."

"You have liked plenty of it." Abhilash leered and hiccuped before licking her lips and looking the female human over with sexual appreciation. "I have liked all but the waiting."

"That's..."

"The point I mean to make..." Damon gripped Ginga's hand in his lap, carefully moving it from his hardened staff. "...is that we'll finish our contract with the madam and we have a few more days before the decision must be made. If we trek north from Renks Cairn or Tsuro, I think it makes little difference. We can provision at either place, and Ginga is right: it would be easier to make fewer tracks in a large city not full of Wizards."

"Especially," Ginga hissed, her voice low, conspiratorial, "any looking for us."

"You mean him." The ork pointed.

"Same thing, if our fates are tied together." Ginga nodded.

"Oye! Serpent!" one of the bouncers clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You've got a visitor in your room, and Mistress Cosima wants you reminded that you're still in her employ."