Sam Ch. 01

Content Warning: Scenes of non-consensual sex, voyeurism.

This story is a work of fiction. The author does not condone real sexual violence of any kind. Please read at your own discretion.

Thanks for reading!

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Samuel's body lay under fine linen, but his mind, his being, was elsewhere. The slight, curly blonde-haired half-elf may have begun his journey lying in his bed, holed up under all of his blankets on this summer night, but now his soul was miles away.

Thanks to Maerwyn's lessons last week in divination, he had finally gotten a knack for astral projection and had promptly begun putting it to use. Every night, once the twin moons had taken their place in the sky, Sam put aside that day's work and began his ritual. He stripped out of his daytime attire, opened the large window at the far end of his dormitory, and shook away the heat that rose to his face. A deep and powerful part of him hungered for someone to spot him there, nude and outstretched as he raised the large glass pane. The wizard shook his head; he was not going to be exploring that fantasy anytime soon.

Sam knelt in front of a cherry-wood shelf, carved into an altar to Lyndris, god of the astral realm. Lyndris? Or was it Lysander? Sam paused as he recounted the texts he had read on the planar deities. Faradin of the Fae, Wild Aza of the Witchworld, and alas Lysander of the Astral. Or was it Lyndris? A crash of some drunk below him having a sudden and unexpected encounter with a streetlight brought him out of this brief trance. The name mattered little, so long as the altar was correctly made, and this one had been carved just to specifications, by the master carpenter Lucius Fade.

Sam reached up to the altar and used a simple spell to light the altar candles. They had seen so much use in the past few days, they had now encased the shelf with pale white wax. He anointed the altarpiece with astral oil and then himself, placing two drops on his shoulders and one on his chest, allowing it to trickle down his body, accumulating between his legs.

The air filled with fumes from the candles, and it began to fill his lungs and stomach. Making a great effort to continue breathing and swallowing the hot, thick air, he began to feel an ethereal pull, the powerful oils trying to tear his soul from the flesh in which it resides. He pulled back, reining in the powerful magic, knowing better than to simply allow it to take him anywhere. He had made that mistake on the very first night and had gotten so horrendously lost it had taken him a full day to search for his body. He knew now how important it was to focus on a place to be sent, before simply wandering the plane willy-nilly.

He clung to his spirit as he stumbled towards his bed, remembering the last words of Maerwyn's lesson. "Oh, and take it from me," he had said to the mass of students as they began flooding out of the lecture hall, "you'll want to get comfortable before you start traveling, otherwise you might find your body falls into some terrible position it lacks a subconscious to rectify. So, if you don't want to spend the next couple of days de-pretzeling yourself, find a chair, or better, a bed."

The young wizard slipped into his bed near the large window, pulled the sheets up over his body, and sucked in a breath of cool night air. He closed his eyes and drew his mental energy to a spot just outside the window. He found the best place to start projecting is where you want to end up at the end, as so long as you trace your steps you can find your way back. As Sam took deeper and deeper breaths, he felt again the pull of the oils. They grew hot on his skin, burning his chest, his legs, his penis--which stiffened slightly at the stimulation--and he felt his mind uncomfortably slip away from the bed, drawn up and out the window, high above the twinkling city of Lyre.

Sam saw his building like an ant below him, as he climbed higher and higher through the night. From his vantage point here, he could survey the great city. He saw the university, with its tall cerulean towers commanding the west end. The market lay opposite it, small winding streets modestly tucked away, as if it wasn't the largest trading center this side of the rainforest. Directly to the north stood the great trees themselves, gravity-defying in their impossible height.

Sam had spent his first few journeys simply amazed by all of this, zipping around from one end of the city to the other, testing his limits, seeing just how much he could see. He found he was unable to go much further than a few miles in each direction, but every night he pushed those boundaries. He had seen all of the small towns dotting the countryside around the city, delved just past the tree line, and of course, occasionally watched some of his friends doing their nighttime activities on campus. He could see far enough to observe the vast landscape, and enough detail to breach the walls of any building not warded against divination.

Of course, using any kind of magic to observe someone in their residence was highly illegal, but not terribly difficult to do, so long as you had plenty of time. And it was this which had caught his interest of late.

Sam had recently come to the realization that in a city as big as this one, there were at any given time hundreds of people locked up in bedrooms and brothels, in some secluded nook of town, or simply out in the country under the stars, fucking the brains out of each other. Simply understanding the social nature of humanoids and their tendency for pleasure-seeking does not prepare one for the sheer amount of penetration, licking, sucking, whipping, teasing, touching and biting that occurs every minute of every hour of every day. It's a wonderland of sex and desire for someone with the ability to drift around undetected to uncover, observe, and enjoy.

It wasn't too difficult to find them, either. After only a few minutes floating around the market town, he spotted a house with all the telltale signs. Its curtains had been drawn tight, betraying only the occasional flicker of candlelight, and turnaphone music leaked out to the street accompanied by the occasional creak of a bedspring.

Despite inhabiting an ethereal body, he could still feel physical phenomena through the magical tendrils of connection with one's flesh, although is unable to feel outside sensations such as touch. Sam felt his heart begin to race and his libido catch aflame as he stared at the window.

He had to move quickly if he wanted to see something, as the best parts never lasted long, but still, he hesitated. Some part of him resisted; said that this kind of voyeurism was wrong, that he should be using this magic for the bettering of society, as he had been taught, not to seek basic excitement. His heart beat faster, and he could now feel the sound begin to drown out his thoughts. He had to see. He drifted towards the crack in the blinds.

-

"Nnnnn-fuuuck" Mathilde's words were coming out like spaghetti now, as she shuddered under Matthew's touch.

In the daytime, the halfling ran a factory, giving orders with a stern pointedness that caused some to think her a few feet taller than she was. She was respected for her position and liked for how she kept work fair and civil. Workplace drama was silly and inefficient, she knew. She had always sworn against hooking up with anyone she worked with. Such things could only cause a load of problems, and in any case, there were plenty of other options in a city so large.

Now she looked up into her new foreman's piercing eyes, twin emeralds set in grey-blue Drow complexion, and heat welled between her legs, flushed her chest, and weakened her jaw, her lips parting as she drew deep breaths. This was going to be a problem. Matthew's fingers once again crept up along the inside of her thigh, and it sure seemed like a fantastic problem to have. He was teasing her, and it was working. She lifted her legs and crossed them behind him, quickly pulling herself up and trying to force his fingers into her, but again he pulled away at the last second.

"Unnnnn-noo..." Mathilde groaned, closing her eyes and grinding on his stomach as much as she could, pushing her head back as small moans escaped through her words, "please, Matthew please put them--ah--back in."

"You're just a little whore after all, aren't you Ms. Lynnit?"

"Don't--ah--call me that, here." She opened her eyes again, and the elf was smirking. Part of her wanted to smack that grin right off his cute face. The fun part wanted to fuck it off.

She loosened her grip on his hips and let her own sink downwards, searching for and finding the rising mound below his waist. She began to grind there, leaving a dark spot on his khakis, and his face began to change. God, Matthew thought, she's wet enough to sink a warship. He had been thrilled when she invited him for supper but had never expected his boss to be so... enthusiastic about him.

He pulled at the button on his pants, which gave way with a faint pop. Undoing the drawstring, he slipped them down past his ass, revealing his growing cock. He leaned back over Mathilde, putting a hand on her chest. No choking, she had said, but you can hold me down. He pushed her into the bed and felt her legs release their death grip, moving and propping her up in a bridge position. Supporting her ass with a pillow, Matthew took himself in his hand and guided his sex to hers, pushing it inside her. Now her jaw completely dropped, as she began to pant.

Mathilde's shoulders pushed against the bed, her hips guiding him deeper into her, as he began to move faster. She was much smaller than him, and he was well-endowed, but still, he slipped in and out of her with ease. He sped up, clawing his hand up her thigh, over her hip and up to her breasts, pinching one of her nipples. She let out a quick gasp, followed by a moan through clenched teeth. He released her and brought his hand to her face, pushing his fingers into her mouth. She could taste herself on him, mouth hanging open as he fucked her. She reached down and played with herself, occasionally reaching further to feel his dick pumping in and out with some measure of force. He would slow down and speed up, and now after so much anticipation and foreplay, she was finally beginning to climax.

Knowing that men tended to reach that state a little quicker, she figured he was pretty close as well. Just as she was on the cusp, he began to slow down again. That little shit, she thought, knows exactly what he's doing.

"Matthew if you--ah--make me wait any longer, you--nnnng--you're going to be doing the bins for a week." Mathilde rocked her hips back and forth, fucking herself with his dick. Matthew thought about the bins, the rotating job at the end of every shift, which involved hauling all the waste cuts out to the landfill and shuddered.

"F-fine, Mathilde, but--ah--I'm gonna--" He suddenly grabbed her hips and fucked her faster as his face began to lose its composure. She let out a scream as she came, fluid dripping out on him and creating a small puddle on the bed. His lips parted, and he began to moan, pushing again and again until he pulled out and sent several bursts of cum onto her sweat-slick body. Mathilde swallowed and gasped for breath, ignoring the more-than-likely possibility that this was going to happen again. Matthew collapsed down onto her, nestling his head on her chest as he let out sputtering gasps. Just outside the bedroom window, Sam was breathing just as hard.

-

The young diviner raced back across the city. He could feel himself rushing with lust and excitement but could do nothing about it until he had reconnected with his physical body. He imagined himself as the drow, dominating the halfling girl, making her squirm and scream for him, taking her in any way he pleased. He imagined what it must feel like to fuck her tight little hole, so wet as to leave a puddle on the bedsheets. he wanted nothing but to be in control, to take what he wanted at a moment's notice. The thought made his head start to spin.

The next instant he was back on campus, then between the dorms, and finally back in his room. His vision faded as he came close to his body, and the ties were fastened once more. The heat of the oil on his skin had vanished, replaced by another, a deeper heat between his legs. He found he was painfully erect, and immediately brought his hand down to his groin.

There was something on his wrist. His hand stopped short, only moving maybe a foot before halting abruptly. Sam was furious at this betrayal of his body, though quickly his mental haze slipped away as he realized that his hand had been tied to the bed frame. Sam panicked and tried to move his other hand. It too was fastened, along with both legs. He pulled and struggled at the rope, but the knots held true. He froze as a voice rose from the far end of his dorm, calm and entertained, deep enough to rattle the floorboards.

"So cute, the way you struggle, boy."

Sam whirled around, pulling himself onto his side, and saw the origin of the voice. For a moment his mind flashed with a single thought: Matthew? But no, the Drow standing at the far end of the room was not the same who was passed out in the arms of his superior. This elf's name was Vaullenta or Val for short.

He was in his fifth year, three above Samuel, at the academy. They had spoken a handful of times, although Val had always intimidated Sam. He was at the top of his class, writing papers and crafting spells that were already finding him success. He was everything Sam wanted so desperately to be. And now, for some insane reason, he had snuck into Sam's bedroom while he was traveling the astral plane, tied him up, and was ominously standing in his dorm room corner.

"Val? What are you--did you do this?" Sam asked, gesturing to the rope.

"Only wanted to make sure you didn't go running off." Val ran his finger along Sam's altar as he walked, dipping a finger on the opened bottle of oil, circling it briefly. "Divination is strong magic, you know. With the right substances, one could easily travel anywhere. See... anything at all."

Sam gulped. This was bad, but not so bad. There was no way that Val could prove what he had been doing, even if he somehow suspected it. Still, he was at his mercy. "The hell do you want, Val?" He was surprised by how strong the words came out, as he lay naked and bound. The Drow drew closer, and leaned slightly over the bed, looking down at Sam.

"Are you aware that the oils you use to travel, that they hold in them the details of your divination? It's actually half of the reason our history books are so thorough. Samples of spent diviners' oil are regularly found, and reverse-engineered." Val pulled a small device from his pocket, removing from it a small glass vial.

Samuel's breath sped up. The oil has a memory? He thought back to his classes, Maerwyn hadn't told them anything about that. His heart lurched as he realized that Val was about to take a sample. Of the oil. On his body. The oil had pooled around... Sam's eyes grew wide. Val grabbed the sheets and began to pull them off of the diviner's soft skin.

"Wait... Stop!" Sam cried, but he could do no more than beg. Val exposed him under the moonlight, reducing the bedsheets to a small heap on the floor. Sam tried to hide, but with his limbs tied and an erection that was now raging with adrenaline (and, to Sam's chagrin, more than a bit of arousal), it was a futile effort. Val smiled. Sam's dick glistened with the oil. He stooped and brought the vial close, running the edge up along the crevice between his thigh and his genitals, up to his stomach, sampling about a half teaspoon of the stuff. He locked it into the machine, which clicked shut and whirred into life.

"Val, whatever you're doing, just please leave me alone. I wasn't doing anything, I swear. Just practicing with the oils," Sam pleaded. As if to argue, the machine in the Drow's hands made a rattling noise, and then a chime sounded.

A small light began to spin, projecting a monochrome image above it into the air. The image showed Sam's journey: floating up, wandering the streets. As it did, Sam pulled with all of his might against the rope, but it was no good. "Nnnnnn-fuuuuck" noised the machine, and Sam's stomach dropped. He froze again as Val watched the projection. Watched Matthew and Mathilde fuck. Val put his hand on Sam's thigh. He tried, but was unable, to pull away.

"Practicing?" He asked, mocking Sam's lame attempt at an excuse.

"Y-yeah," Sam said, his breath heavy as he couldn't help but catch glimpses of the couple fucking each other silly, "I'm not very good at it yet, so sometimes I end up in places I don't mean to be."

"And yet there you stayed right up until he came all over her pretty little body. And then expertly navigated back to your pervert's sanctuary. Not to mention..." Sam squirmed as Val's eyes went to his cock, his hand running up from his thigh and cupping his balls, lightly squeezing them, "you seem to be enjoying it quite a bit."

"N-no-no, hang on hang o--" A blinding pain shot from between his legs. Sam desperately tried to roll onto his stomach, away from this agony. He made it halfway there, but the pain did not cease. He glanced down. Vaullenta's hand, long grey fingers, nails cleanly tapered into mild points, now tightened monstrously around Sam's sack, as the life force came spewing out of him in a cry, which the elf quickly stifled by wrapping his free hand around his mouth. Two of these fingers, after Sam had gone silent, softly plunged into his open mouth. He pushed his tongue against them, refusing their violation.

"No, no." Val was taller by at least a foot, and was easily able to curl around him, pulling Sam's body into his, "And no biting either. Remember, you little shit, I have this now."

Once more Sam was forced to watch the one named Matthew ream Mathilde, positioned now so that the woman's face was making eye contact with him as she climaxed. His dick, which had made a hasty retreat due to the treatment of its other half, now began to rise, pushing against his belly in proud defiance. Sam went still.

"Much better. So, here's what's going to happen next," There was a sound from behind Sam, fabric shifting. Then, the click of a buckle. No, he can't... But Sam knew he could. If this got out, it would mean an end to the academy. They would kick him out without a second thought. Worse, assuming Val meant to bring it to the authorities, it could land him in jail. Lyndis, Lysander, whatever your name is, please, help me. Sam was not usually one to pray, however in the situation he found himself in it was the only thing left to do. He strained his ears for a response, but the only words that came were from behind.

"First, you are going to let me do whatever I want with you." Vaullenta's pants slid off his slender thighs, collapsing in a heap at the foot of the small bed. "Second, when I take this hand off of your mouth, you are not going to scream. Or talk. In fact, make as little noise as possible."

Val's fingers, now inserted to their considerable length down Sam's throat, slowly crept out. He traced a line out of his throat, across his cheek, down his back, and just to the crest of his ass, where his fingers stopped. Sam didn't make a sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Val smile in delicate confidence.

"And third, and this one's the most important," Val pulled Sam again against his own alarmingly naked body. His chest was warm against Sam's back, his breath hot on his ear, his cock stiffening against his legs, "You're never going to tell a single soul. And in return, we can forget all of this ever happened."