Briar moaned also as Uthiel slid a hand up her thigh. She quickly covered his with one of her own. Not that she didn’t want him to do exactly what Mr. Chamman was doing to his wife, but Briar knew, beyond a doubt, she’d faint dead away from bliss if Uthiel attempted to place even one fingertip in her pussy right now.
With more determination than she’d thought herself capable of, Briar forced her attention back to her instructor and his wife.
Mr. Chamman had now slid down his wife’s body and replaced his fingers with his tongue. Krystalynn’s back arched upward as her husband drank of her juices.
Briar caught herself holding her breath. With every stroke of Mr. Chamman’s tongue against his wife’s clit, her own throbbed with need. She pressed her legs tightly together and hoped Uthiel wouldn’t notice her distress.
He had, though, and it was obvious as his lips touched her ear. “Spread your legs for me, Briar, just a little. Allow me to ease your need,” he whispered.
Her face burned with heat, her breath came in little gasps, and the junction between her thighs throbbed. She wanted to spread them wide for him. She wanted his fingers to claim her, to bring about her satisfaction.
Her mind screamed for what it knew this paladin could give her. Still, she hesitated, not yet able to let go of that last vestige of self-control.
Instead, she shook her head against his chest, clenched her thighs even tighter, and blocked any thoughts of the man beside her.
Krystalynn locked her legs about Mr. Chamman’s shoulders, her hands fisted into the fur rug as she bucked against the unceasing onslaught of his tongue. Her moans morphed into whimpers, and her toes curled as their bodies shifted together in a well-orchestrated dance of ecstasy.
Uthiel lifted his hand from her thigh and slipped it beneath her tunic. His sudden warm touch against the bare skin of her back sent an electrical jolt of rapture straight to Briar’s core. Her clit hummed with its need to be touched, to be stroked, to be kissed as Mr. Chamman was kissing Krystalynn’s.
All of a sudden, above the pair on the platform, fireworks burst in an array of sparklers and swirls. Flowers bloomed on the floor of the room, and balloons in all the colors of the rainbow floated gently toward the ceiling. If the look on the beautiful Mystic Arts teacher’s face was any indication, even a virgin like Briar could tell the woman had been well pleasured.
Briar didn’t realize she’d been hyperventilating until Uthiel spoke. “You okay, my lady? You seem to be in some distress again.”
She blushed hotly, and her voice squeaked, “I’m fine.”
Uthiel smiled. “You don’t look fine. You look ready to pass out. Or is this bringing back pleasant memories of someone special for you, Briar? Very pleasant memories, perhaps?”
Briar tasted the salty copper of her own blood, and gasped at the discomfort of biting her lip. Her hand flew to her face in an attempt to hide the telltale sign of nervousness.
Uthiel obviously hadn’t missed the signs, however. His eyes narrowed, and his head tilted ever so slightly to the right as he studied her.
“You have done this type of thing before, haven’t you, Briar? Tell me you have. I mean, after all, you’re obviously an adult. Teenagers practice this same technique dozens of times in Basic Sex and Seduction class every day. Are you, perhaps, shy? There’s no reason to be, my lady. You truly are safe with me.”
Horror infused her. What could she say? How could she tell this gorgeous man, her Healing the Soul partner, she’d never taken Basic Sex and Seduction, or any of the other normal, required sex education classes, as far as that went? They simply hadn’t been offered where she’d grown up.
Dak Forest wasn’t a big place, and the small section of it where she and her father had lived since her mother’s death would be considered tiny by any standards. The population wasn’t large enough to warrant many instructors. And the thought of her old teacher, Mr. Wizzit―a dwarf with a jiggly potbelly and a floor-length gray beard―ever having sex, let alone teaching it, was repulsive.
Almost every student across Albrath had taken sex theory and practices classes before reaching the ripe old age of sixteen. Not only had Briar not taken any of The Academy’s required-for-admission classes in this area, she’d all but out and out lied on her application.
And, worse yet, if anyone found out her secret―that she was still a virgin―she’d be expelled so quickly, she’d be back home before the dust could settle in the Headmistress’s office. Oh, the shame of it!
She forced her breathing to slow. “Of course I’ve done this before, many times. After all, you’re correct. I’m an adult, not a child, and you don’t get to be twenty-one without learning the basics of life. It’s…it’s just warm in here, that’s all.”
He was much too close for Briar’s comfort, and when he purred into her ear, her heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst.
“Hmm, so it’s warm in here to you, is it? I find it quite comfortable. Perhaps you’re wearing too much, my lady. Feel free to take that tunic off if you wish. I’m a paladin after all, so you know you can trust me. I won’t tell.”
Mr. Chamman’s voice interrupted him and gave Briar a much-needed reprieve. Or so she thought.
“All right, students. I hope you’ve paid attention and taken notes. Please spend these last few minutes of class practicing with your partners what you’ve been shown here today. There will be a quiz tomorrow.”
Briar almost choked. Practice? Practice with Uthiel? Oh God Draka, one touch and he’d know. The pressure of his right hand on her spine distracted her, while his left hand lightly pressed on her shoulder, tilting her backwards. The sudden firmness of the bed against her back sent shivers racing through Briar’s limbs.
“We only have a few minutes left of class time. I suggest we get started, my lady,” Uthiel whispered against her neck.
Chill bumps popped out all along her limbs, and Briar fought to control the quiver of anticipation. She couldn’t take her eyes from his face as his head slowly descended toward hers. The warmth of his breath heated her skin. He was going to kiss her.
Panic surged through every nerve Briar possessed. What was she going to do? Uthiel was going to realize she’d never even been really kissed before.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to relax and look only into his eyes. She drew strength from what she saw―tenderness, kindness, and a depth of caring that set loose tiny spirals of excitement skittering down her spine. Briar’s eyes drifted shut as Uthiel’s lips touched hers.
An unmistakable sensation of coming home on a cold day to a roaring hot fire flowed through her as his lips melded to hers, teasing, coaxing, and tempting her with a promise Briar couldn’t quite grasp. Not even the width of a breath or thought separated them as, with playful persuasion, Uthiel nipped at her bottom lip.
“Open to me, my lady. Let me in.”
And she did.
Sparks of bright colors, like fireworks during a summer festival, exploded behind her closed eyelids as his warm, wet tongue plundered and probed the recesses of her eager mouth. He tasted of sin and sunshine, of fire and ice. She couldn’t get close enough to satisfy her burning hunger for more, or to appease the slow throbbing that had begun deep within her core the moment Uthiel had touched his lips to hers.
With expert precision, he took them deeper. Gentle pressure became more demanding and Briar strove to match him tongue for tongue, taste for taste. Heartbeats raced, lips caressed, fingers sought, limbs entwined, and time stood still.
With what was left of her will, Briar fought hard for a final second of self-control. She had one last coherent thought before plunging over a precipice of pure emotion with Uthiel Stoutheart.
Breathe, Briar. Just remember to breathe.
Chapter Three
How embarrassing. Briar couldn’t force herself to look the infirmary receptionist in the eye. All she could manage to do was sit and wait.
Why, oh why, hadn’t she dispelled her protective force fie
ld? Even small children knew better. Oh, but not her, and look what had happened to Uthiel.
She’d offered to help heal the damaged she’d done to him. Briar knew she wouldn’t soon forget the look he’d given her, or his adamant declaration. “Not for all the platt and gold in Albrath, my lady.”
Just then, the man of her thoughts walked out the infirmary door, and if Briar hadn’t known she was responsible and wasn’t feeling so utterly guilty about it already, she’d have laughed.
Uthiel’s eyebrows were singed off―both of them completely gone, as if they’d never existed―and his entire face was as red as if he’d spent the day looking directly at the sun. At least the blisters appeared to be better than when she’d seen them a turn of an hourglass ago.
He took one look at her and held up a hand. “Not a word right now, Briarlarn Tumbleweed. I doubt I can be civil. We’re already late for our appointment with Headmistress Seychelle, and I’m beginning to think this day will never end.”
He chuckled, but the sound of it held no humor. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve been in trouble. Why on Albrath didn’t you lower that damn force field? No, on second thought, don’t answer that.”
Briar wrung her hands. “I really am sorry, Uthiel.”
He raised his hand again, and Briar could tell by the look on his face it was best to not say anymore.
Uthiel Stoutheart, however, wasn’t finished. “I don’t think I can bear another explanation right now. And not one more ‘I’m sorry, Uthiel’ either, do you hear me? It’s over. We’ll sit down and talk after our appointment with the Headmistress.”
Briar silently followed, reliving yet again what had happened in class. However was she going to explain it, when she didn’t really understand what had happened herself? After Uthiel had kissed her, she lost all sense of time, place, and reality.
She knew they were supposed to practice what they’d observed, but when Uthiel’s hand cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her tunic, it was as if sparks erupted within her. When he slid slowly down her body, parted her legs, and let his tongue flick out and claim what she herself was too shy most times to touch, she sizzled out of control.
The smell of burning hair and Uthiel’s scream of pain had forced her brain to register the fact that flames from her protective force field had shot out and burned poor Uthiel’s face. His entire face. Oh, the shame of it.
How could she explain to a man like Uthiel Stoutheart that she’d never had an experience like this one before? All children, almost from the time of birth, were taught the same things: brush your teeth, shower daily, eat your veggies, say your incantation to protect yourself from disease and unwanted pregnancy, and cast your protective force field.
Old habits were hard to break, and she’d had no idea the force field protected her from intense pleasure just as it did from pain. It’s not as if she’d had a mother to explain these things to her.
And her father…Briar rolled her eyes and shook her head. She could never have asked Midan Tumbleweed about such things. In that man’s eyes, she’d always be his little girl.
Even her five brothers wouldn’t have been any help. She could almost hear them, “Don’t you worry your little head about such things, Sissy. We’ll kill any man stupid enough to try touching you!”
There was no helping it. After the meeting with the Headmistress, Briar was going to have to take Uthiel into her confidence and tell him she was still―shudder―a virgin. Being a paladin, he’d be honor bound to keep her secret. Perhaps, if he were over his anger by then, he’d even be willing to help her solve her little problem. She wondered wistfully if she was going to have to wait for his eyebrows to grow back first.
They arrived at the door to the Headmistress’s office, and Briar put her hand over Uthiel’s to stop him from opening it. “Wait, what’s she like, the Headmistress? You already know her since she’s a friend of your family’s. Should we be worried? What should we say?”
Uthiel didn’t even look back at her. Instead he turned the knob while chuckling, “There’s really no way to adequately describe Headmistress Seychelle, Briar. She’s definitely one of a kind and that, my lady, you’ll have to discover for yourself.”
The door opened and she stepped into an entirely different world. This was like no office Briar had ever seen. The floor was covered completely with snow-white fur. The dark stone walls reminded her of a medieval castle with strange, torturous-looking devices attached here and there along the walls. The ceiling gave the illusion of a nighttime sky, complete with stars and a single, full moon. Clouds slowly traversed the horizon and a gentle breeze blew.
Only two objects occupied the large room’s floor space. One was a small desk against the far wall with a catlike man sitting behind it, and the other was a huge, shiny black throne, complete with straps and shackles.
The cat-man looked up from his desk. “May I help you?”
Briar stood in awe. She’d heard of bahsheers, but had never seen one up close. It was rumored they’d been forced to leave their world on a moon several planets away and seek a new refuge when the war on the planet below them overflowed its space and destroyed their home. They were known throughout Albrath to be an intelligent, peaceful race and had assimilated themselves well into society here.
This particular bahsheer was dark gray with small black stripes. His eyes glowed an eerie yellow through the dim light surrounding the shadowed room, and his whiskers twitched as he spoke.
“Well, I don’t have all day. State your business.”
Uthiel spoke for them. “We have an appointment with Headmistress Seychelle. Mr. Ohmni told us to report here after class.”
The bahsheer glanced at his ledger. “Ah, here it is. Yes, yes. You must be the pair caught peeking at Miss Ursula while she was doing a healing. Tsk, tsk. Young people have no respect for rules these days.” The bahsheer sighed. “You’re late, by the way. Wait here. I’ll inform my mistress you’ve finally arrived.”
Briar clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. Though the voice of the bahsheer was very masculine, he walked on his two back feet with his hips swaying, his long tail swishing, and his front paws in a dainty position close to his face. When the wall at the back of the room opened and he disappeared behind it, she gave into the mirth.
Uthiel shifted his gaze to her. “Enjoy yourself while you can, my lady. Trust me, I doubt you’ll look back on this experience when it’s over and smile much about it anytime soon.”
Briar sobered as a chill chased away any trace of frivolity.
The back wall suddenly opened and Briar’s mouth gaped. She forced it to snap shut. Headmistress Seychelle could only be described as coldly beautiful. Known in her own right as a powerful enchantress, she looked the part. Dressed from head to toe in silver-studded black leather, she was a sight to behold. She was tall, even for a high-elf, and her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. Crisply pointed ears peeked out from her waist-length mass of riotous black curls, and her lips were full and blood red. A slight, almost cruel, smile parted them.
Dark violet eyes appraised Briar and Uthiel from the tops of their heads to the ends of their toes and back up again.
Briar shuffled her feet as her stomach nervously contracted.
In one hand, the Headmistress held a leather whip, its end snaking about her arm. The other hand held a delicate chain leash.
Attached to the end of the chain was a human.
Not a very attractive example, but a human, nonetheless. The leash was linked to a studded collar, and all the little man wore was a mud-colored loincloth. He was clean and appeared to be well fed, and if his toothy grin was any indication, he seemed happy and content, though quite homely. He was thin and short, and his brown hair was sparse in quite a few spots. Briar empathized with him as she thought of Uthiel’s eyebrowless face.
The bahsheer followed the Headmistress and her strange human into the room and proceeded directly back to his desk. Headmistress S
eychelle strode to Briar and Uthiel, until she stood stiletto-boot-to-toe with Uthiel Stoutheart.
“My darling, darling boy. It’s so,” she purred the word, stretching it out, “very good to see you again. I was beginning to wonder if you meant to avoid me all semester.”
Her long, red nails found their way to Uthiel’s crotch and Briar swallowed hard, waiting to see what the woman would do next.
The Headmistress squeezed and chuckled, “My, how well you’ve grown since last we met.”
Briar watched in shock as the woman flexed her fingers open and closed, up and down.
Uthiel extracted her hand from his private parts. “I wish I could say it’s nice to see you again also, Headmistress Seychelle. Alas, I can’t.”
Seychelle laughed. “Tsk, tsk. ‘Headmistress’ is much too formal for you and me, dear boy. After all, we’ve been quite good friends on more than a few occasions. It’s My Mistress to you.
“But whatever has happened to your beautiful face, Uthiel? And your lovely eyebrows, in particular? Have you been playing sado-masochistic games without me? Let’s hope not. You know how disturbed I can get when left out of playtime.”
He didn’t answer her, but simply shrugged and stared. The Headmistress turned her attention to Briar, who wanted desperately to hide behind Uthiel. The woman actually licked her lips.
“Oh my, what do we have here? Why, aren’t you a tasty, tender, sweet morsel? What ever could you have done to be sent to my office? A bad girl, are you?”
A single finger flicked out, and one long, perfectly manicured, bright-red nail skimmed Briar’s lips, down her chin, her neck, between her breasts, across her belly and stopped at the junction between her legs. Briar couldn’t budge, couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t break the spell the Headmistress’s eyes held.
Uthiel came to her defense, drawing Briar physically and verbally out of her trance by taking her arm and bringing her toward him, then facing the Headmistress.
“Leave her alone. This isn’t Briar’s fault. All we’re guilty of is walking by when Miss Ursula happened to be performing one of her healings. Mr. Ohmni saw us pause for a moment to speak and mistakenly thought we’d been observing against rules. It’s a simple misunderstanding.”
The Academy Volume One Page 3