Creation Mage 7

by King, Dante

  “You will agree to our demands, Admiral Galeflint,” I said in a breathless matter-of-fact tone, through a fierce smile of contentment.

  “You’re going to have to do a far better job than what you’re doing now,” Isobel mocked. “You bloody well call this bondage? This is what I get up to on my lazy days before I begin a fucking day of gardening!”

  Mallory looked back at me, and her eyes glinted at the challenge.

  Turning my attention back to Isobel, I realized that perhaps my best chance of finding some way to squeeze a verbal promise out of her was to get the woman so worked up that she let it slip somehow, just inadvertently pledged her allegiance to the cause. Of course, I wasn’t entirely sure how much weight her word would carry, especially not in this scenario and after hearing how little regard pirates had for the truth and promises, but I thought it was worth a shot.

  “Come on, you two!” Isobel hissed at us, her big, liquid gray eyes taunting Mallory who was still leaning down in front of her. “You can do better than this, surely?”

  In response, I pulled out of Mallory, moved her aside, reached down, and ripped down the zip of Isobel’s leather panties.

  “That’s it! Maybe I’ll feel like talking after you’ve shown my pussy who’s boss. Come on!”

  In a sudden burst of passion that creased her smooth and usually sanguine face, Mallory struck out with the paddle—not too hard, but hard enough to send a quiver of ecstasy through the Pirate Queen’s torso and down her legs, so that they shivered and shook. She struck her tight ass once more and then gently patted the paddle over the other woman’s naked, gaping sex. The wooden paddle slapped wetly across the lips of her pussy. Mallory reached out a long finger and tickled Isobel’s clit as she held up the paddle once more, raising her hand for another strike.

  “Yes, that’s it! You want my word, do you? You want to know whether I’ll join your band of rapscallions? Well, fucking make me, then.”

  Mallory struck her slightly harder this time, the paddle smacking down onto the naked flesh of her groin, just to the side of her box. Isobel gasped and bucked in the swing. Mallory, her face a mask of concentration, paddled the other woman again and again, progressively getting harder and harder.

  Isobel, clearly loving this attention, thrashed in her bonds, moaning and crying out at the delicious pain, obviously trying desperately not to succumb to the building urge to cum, which looked to be rising in her like some all-encompassing hunger that needed to be sated.

  “Tell me you’ll join us!” I growled and, this time, I struck down with the thong of the whip that I still held in my hand. The thin instrument slapped wetly onto Isobel’s slippery hole, and she cried out, her head craning forward as if she were trying to do a sit-up.

  “Oh, gods,” she panted. To my eye, it looked like she was barely able to keep the rising tide of her orgasm at bay.

  I smacked her on her inner thigh, then on the other. Averting her gaze from the arousing sight of her own reddening thighs and dripping vagina, Isobel turned her eyes to the thing that must have been taking up most of her vision: my massive erection that was pointing accusingly at her.

  “You’re going to agree in the end, aren’t you?” I asked, my dominating persona slipping just a little in my eagerness to secure this woman’s help for Reginald Chaosbane and the rest of my friends.

  “Make me,” Isobel replied, hoarsely. “Make me agree, Justin Mauler.”

  “Oh, I will, if you insist” I said, in a voice as sure as a steel trap.

  Thinking that I may as well play the part that Isobel Galeflint so badly wanted me to play, I slapped her pussy hard once more with the whip. As Isobel cried out, I reversed the instrument and plunged the handle into her slit. Isobel let out a long animal groan, and I started to fuck her hard and ruthlessly, thrusting away with the handle of the whip, which I had now effectively turned into a dildo.

  Girl juice started to spurt from Isobel’s vagina as I pounded away with a single-minded determination. She screamed in rapture as her orgasm washed over and engulfed her, her head leaning off the back of the swing. Her legs trembled and her body sagged as she finished climaxing. Pussy juice dripped with a gentle tap-tap-tap onto the wooden floor.

  Beside me, Mallory was stroking my shoulder and rubbing herself at the sight of the exhausted pirate.

  “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” the Pirate Queen moaned. “Please, get that fucking cock inside my mouth, and I’ll agree to anything at all. I’ll agree the fucking sea is yellow and the sky is green if that’s what you want. Just give it to me.”

  I looked at Mallory questioningly. The Holy Mage nodded. Reaching down, she grabbed me roughly by the base of my shaft and pulled me forward until the tip of my pecker was pressed against Isobel’s face.

  Isobel looked up at me and grinned.

  “Fuck her, Justin,” Mallory said in my ear, “but let me have your seed.”

  I kissed Mallory hard on the mouth and then, not giving the Pirate Queen a chance to compose herself or gather her thoughts, I shoved my dick roughly into her mouth.

  She took it like a greedy champion of the cock-sucking art. I held her nose so that she had to breathe around my rod, causing her to snort and snuffle like a pig, and this only seemed to goad her on all the more.

  While I did this, and while Isobel sucked me off like the keen pirate whore that she was, Mallory continued to slap lightly at the other woman’s sopping wet box, which was now quite red from the attention it had been receiving with the paddle.

  Isobel grunted and groaned, gargling spit. Saliva dripped down her chin. In the midst of all this excitement and bondage debauchery, I noticed that Mallory was managing to edge herself closer and closer to an orgasm of her own. As she watched Isobel sucking on my pork sword, she was toying with herself, working her fingers so that her whole free hand was a blur.

  I leaned over to her and she leaned into me and we kissed, our tongues engaging in a wrestling match that had nothing to do with our brains.

  “Fuck me,” Isobel suddenly begged in between mouthfuls of dick. “Please, fuck me. And my allegiance is all yours.”

  In reply, I pulled my cock from her mouth, walked around to her legs, and deftly unfastened the pole that stretched them apart. It fell to the floor with a clatter of metal on wood. Grabbing the harness of the sex-swing, I pulled Isobel to me and speared her with my shaft.

  Isobel gasped with unadulterated pleasure as her punished, eager pussy was filled with my manhood.

  It didn’t take long for her to shrug off the stupor of her post-climax bliss and get her head and body working toward a second orgasm. Her legs were free now, and she held them up of her own accord, the deeper to take my cock. I could feel my nuts slapping against her asshole, could feel the Pirate Queen’s girl cum dripping down to coat them as they made contact over and over again.

  I started to pick up the pace. I had dropped the whip and the paddle was on the floor now, having been dropped by Mallory so that she could play with Isobel’s and my nipples. I was pounding away at Isobel’s sex now, completely unsheathing myself from her before plunging my prick hard into her.

  “Pledge yourself to me,” I grunted on each thrust. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to us, come on.”

  My breath rasped in my throat, and I felt myself on the verge of blowing my wad. Next to me, distantly through the thundering of the blood in my ears, I could Mallory saying, “Almost… there… yes!”

  I pulled out of Isobel, turned, and blew my load all over Mallory’s stomach, just as the Holy Mage herself went weak at the knees and cried out in ecstasy.

  A sudden blast of wind roared through the captain’s cabin, blowing all the windows open so that they swung crazily on their hinges. The sunlight seemed to flare, as if the gods had turned the dimmer of the heavens up a notch, just for a second.

  I staggered and crashed into the desk, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

  Through my narrowed eyelids, I saw Isobel lying exh
austed in the sex swing. She was laughing throatily to herself.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, between heaving breaths as I felt my jacked heart rate begin to relax once more.

  “Nothing, matey,” she said. “It’s just that I think we might have done the very best bit o’ negotiating I’ve ever been involved with.”

  I looked down at my wilting pecker and over at the jizz-spattered Mallory.

  I grinned. “Well, I try to drive a hard bargain.”

  “A very, very hard bargain,” Isobel replied, with her tongue sticking out between her teeth.

  * * *

  Back on deck, fully clothed but still flushed of face, I stared out across the sea and let the wind run its cooling fingers over my face and through my hair. Mallory was standing next to me and humming to herself, her golden hair waving softly in the breeze.

  Up on the poop deck, Isobel was organizing a series of trestle tables to be laid so that we could enjoy a bit of a celebratory feast: her, me, Alura, Janet, Enwyn, Cecilia Barry, and a few of her most trusted hands. Enwyn and Cecilia had been allowed on board the ship, seeing as Isobel had agreed to join us in our quest. Everyone else had been told there would be food and drink in plenty and that there’d be no labor for at least two hours when the meal bell rang.

  I smiled to myself and shook my head for what felt like the twentieth time. There could be no denying, that had been one hell of a way to strengthen diplomatic relations.

  I watched idly as sailors from Isobel’s three ships helped patch up the harm done to our schooner in the battle with the raiders, under the watchful eye of Captain Barry Chillgrave.

  It looked like the damage had not been too extensive, but it was good to know that Barry was supervising repairs. If we ran into any more trouble, I wanted to make sure that we were as well defended as we had been before.

  Speaking of well defended… I thought, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my spellbook from its depths. Let's see what that little bit of relationship strengthening did for my powers.

  I flipped through the pages until I found what I sought. It was my newest spell, the ink still glistening freshly on the page.

  Blessed Zephyr (Wind/Holy Spell) - Cast a Holy Wind over a group of allies, healing them of their minor wounds and bolstering their strength.

  I snapped the book shut and replaced it in my pocket. That was a first—a healing spell. A spell that wasn’t just defensive, but actively helped heal and revitalize me and my friends.

  With the looming threat of the Arcane Council hovering over us like a thunderhead, I figured that this addition to my spell arsenal could not have come at a better time. It was one thing to be able to make the lives of my enemies a living hell, but with full-on war rearing its head, the ability to potentially save the lives of the people that I had come to care about was a great tool to have.

  A sudden clamor rose. It was the ringing of the bell that summoned everyone to the al fresco feast that Admiral Galeflint had laid on.

  “Justin, Mallory,” Isobel called from above us, “get that rascal Chillgrave up here pronto, there is something I wish to tell you about these raiders. Something that I didn’t mention before, but which I think you will find quite interesting, especially after hearing the news that Mallory brought back from her spying out of the Castle of Ascension.”

  Mallory swept toward the staircase that ascended to the poop, which was acting as the VIP room for the feast. I followed more slowly. Regardless of the light-hearted vibe that lay over the four ships after the battle that had been won, I had a feeling that there was more dark and dangerous work heading toward us.

  “Ah well,” I said to myself as I took the first step up to the poop deck, “there might be a shit storm on the way, but that’s all the more reason to have a good meal and a couple of beers before it hits.”

  Chapter 18

  The board on Admiral Galeflint’s poop deck was laden with food and drink. Isobel sat at the head of the table with Meng on her right and the eel-faced bruiser, Caxton, on her left. I got the feeling that the Pirate Queen would have liked to have me within fondling range, or Mallory for that matter, but she was a shrewd enough leader of sailors to know that you didn’t offend those most loyal to you.

  Barry and I sat across from one another, with Janet and Cecilia on my left and Alura and Enwyn on Barry’s left. At the far end of the table, sitting as upright and regal-looking as any queen, was Mallory.

  “Pass the jellied clamaconda will you, Earthling?” Caxton grunted at me, indicating a bowl of slimy, shiny tubes that looked like they had already passed through someone’s digestive tract and out the other side.

  I obliged, and the surly seaman muttered something that might have been thanks.

  “Ooooh,” Meng said, her big wet eyes shining with mirth as she winked at me, “I think you’ve a shipmate in Caxton there, Mauler. Not often someone gets a word of gratitude out of that misery guts.”

  “Go stick your head in the kraken’s mouth, wench,” Caxton replied to the selkie, spooning jellied clamacondas—whatever the fuck they were—onto his trencher bread.

  “That’s a bit more like it,” Meng sneered, spearing a boiled crab with her knife and ripping a claw off it.

  The banter put me at my ease. I couldn’t be entirely sure, but I suspected our efforts in the battle had won favor from Isobel’s followers. That was all to the good, as far as I was concerned. The happier they were, the harder they would fight for us.

  The sound of champing jaws was all that could be heard for a few moments. Swallowing a chunk of hard cheese and washing it down with a mouthful of good wine, I addressed Isobel.

  “You said that there was something you wish to tell us about these raiders,” I reminded her.

  Isobel brushed off her hands and held up a finger while she finished chewing.

  “Aye, that’s right,” she said. “Like I said, it’s especially relevant after hearing the news that your fine blonde shipmate brought back from her reconnoitering of the Castle of Ascension.”

  Barry, who had been examining the silverware laid on the table with a connoisseur’s eye, looked up sharply at this.

  “What’re ye talking about, Admiral?” he said.

  “Stop flapping your lip and I’ll tell you, Chillgrave,” Isobel said, with a bite of her old impatience in her voice.

  She turned back to me, carefully pulling a lobster’s leg off and sucking out the sweet white meat. Tossing the leg overboard, she said, “Them raiders that you and Chillgrave and these four fiery lasses helped me move onward into the next realm weren’t just stealing from me.”

  “No?” I asked.

  “No. They were also holding a key rift entry point that leads to Avalonia,” Isobel said, her eyes narrowing.

  Barry dropped the heavy silver knife he had been holding. “A rift entry point?” he said quietly. “To Avalonia?”

  Was it my imagination, or was there a tremor of something very much like dread or apprehension in his voice? The poltergeist was looking off the starboard side of the ship and studying the island and the bay in which we had just fought, as if he were only now seeing them for the first time.

  “Aye, to Avalonia,” Admiral Galeflint said, snapping off another lobster leg. “It was a rift point which I wanted for my smuggling operation in order to expand it, and to make the moving of my contraband across the two realms all the easier.”

  She sucked the meat out of the leg and tossed the exoskeleton away. “Specifically, I have wanted it for a long time because of its strategic importance in getting contraband in and out of the Avalonian capital, Manafell.”

  I was listening to Isobel, but my eyes were glued on Barry. The golden aura that had surrounded the spectral sky-pirate ever since he had visited the Death Font had dimmed a little.

  “Those scurvy, duck-kneed, dung-munching raiders had been holding it closed with magic in an attempt to cut off the Admiral’s profits,” growled Caxton, through a mouthful of the jellied clamacondas
that he seemed to relish so much. “They’d been hoping that if they dried up her profits enough, then some of the newer, less loyal members of our crew might throw a little fuckin’ mutiny party.”

  “Now that the bastards are dead, though,” Meng chipped in, “the final has been removed.” The selkie raised her goblet toward Barry Chillgrave. “They should have known better than to fuck with a returning legend, eh?”

  Barry didn’t say anything. He was still looking out across the water of the bay, at the island and its mammoth cave mouth. There was a faint frown puckering his brow. He looked like a spirit frantically trying to sort through the filing cabinet of his extensive and jumbled memories.

  “Aye, that they should have,” Isobel said, picking lobster meat out of her teeth with a knife that looked sharp enough to shave with. “O’ course, we didn’t tell them that Chillgrave was on his way, did we?”

  Caxton and Meng chuckled darkly.

  “Anyway,” the Pirate Queen continued nonchalantly, “I’ve already sent a couple of my most trusted sailors and trackers, and my most powerful mages, to open the rift and scout the opening to see what lies beyond and whether we can start smuggling as soon as possible.”

  “You mean you’ve never actually made use of this here opening before?” Barry asked.

  Isobel shook her head. “Nay, it only came to my attention a couple of moons ago, you know. A stranger was overheard in a bawdy house down on Black Spot Pier running his mouth about this place, how it was a surefire way into Manafell that the stupid hussy, Galeflint—yours truly—knew nothing about. It was fortunate that I have a set of ears and a set of eyes in every bottom of the barrel shithole on Cupido Island. After a little forceful persuasion, the fellow in question spilled the beans and I spilled his guts.”