The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  Lark shook her head and covered her eyes with one hand, not wanting to watch Sherman destroy himself. She couldn’t block out his voice, though.

  “Do you have halfling in you? Want one?”

  Lark couldn’t help herself, she peeked.

  Sherman grinned up at the tall, darkly beautiful high-elf, with her mass of midnight-black curls and blood-red lips, obvious adoration plastered across his face.

  Headmistress Seychelle glared at Sherman. “Out of tens of thousands of sperm, yours was the fastest swimmer your father could produce? Really? How sad. Do you have a death wish, little man?”

  Sherman’s lips trembled, but Lark was proud of his courage as he leaned in close and sniffed the air at Seychelle’s pussy level before opening his mouth once more. “You smell scrumptious. Reminds me of a fine, aged limburger.”

  Lark groaned and braced herself for Sherman’s untimely demise.

  Instead, Headmistress Seychelle surprised her. The sound of the woman’s tinkling laughter brought the first smile of the day to Lark’s lips, and she watched in fascination as the headmistress stretched out a long, red manicured nail and stroked the halfling’s cheek.

  “My, what do we have here? Adventurous, cheeky little fellow, aren’t you? I may have underestimated you.” Seychelle bent and ran her fingers from the tip of his nose, down his robe, and stopped just short of his groin. “You’ll follow me back to my office when I’m done here. I have things to…show you. Do you understand me, little man?”

  Sherman was grinning from ear to ear and bobbing his head up and down.

  Lark didn’t know what to say. Apparently, neither did Sarco, Uthiel, or Leeky as they stared at Sherman in awe.

  It took Seychelle clearing her throat to get their attention. “Sarco, I came to inform you a reception dinner for your parents has been planned for this evening. It will be last minute, I’m afraid. I wasn’t expecting them until next week. We’ll manage, however.

  “Dinner will be served right as the last rays of the day’s sun fade so don’t be late. Oh, and it’s formal.”

  She turned toward Uthiel. “You may come along if you wish, Mr. Dragonheart. We could spend some time getting reacquainted after dinner if you like. Leave your wife behind, however. You know how she upsets poor Ray.”

  Ray chose that moment to add his own two cents’ worth. “Ray loves cock.”

  Lark almost laughed as Uthiel twitched.

  Turning back toward the door, Seychelle crooked her finger, motioned for Sherman to follow, and exited the room.

  The halfling straightened his glasses, grinned at his friends, and pantomimed plucking two six-shooters from an invisible holster and firing them in the air. “I am a sexy man. All women love me. I am the Shermanator.” He swaggered out the door.

  Sarco was the first to regain enough composure to speak. “How long do you think we should wait before we go rescue the poor little guy?”

  Uthiel shook his head. “I’m not sure we should or even could rescue him. Once Seychelle gets a victim, umm, I mean a man in her office, she isn’t likely to let anyone just walk in and take him away before she’s done playing with him. Personally, I can’t think of a better person to teach our young Mr. Limburger the Ninth the ropes, so to speak.”

  Lark shook her head in disbelief.

  Leeky, though, didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss. As a matter of fact, if anything, he looked like a proud new papa. “Rescue him? What the purple pustules on the bare, hairy arse of a red-headed dwarf are ya thinking, lads? Did we just witness the same scene? Headmistress Seychelle taking on a new conquest, let alone our little Sherman, is as rare an event as bath day at a troll’s house. It’s been years since she’s taken a personal interest in anyone, other than our Briar last year, but she doesn’t count ‘cause she’s a girl, and well, that was a mistake. What I wouldn’t give ta be in our little Sherman’s shoes right now.”

  Lark cringed, but Leeky didn’t seem to notice.

  The gnome wiped away a solitary tear and grinned at his companions. “I’ve taught Sherman Bobert Limburger the Ninth everything I possibly can, and today he’s made me proud. I say it’s time to celebrate. Let’s grab the other two lasses, take the rest of the day off, and go on a picnic. I know the perfect spot.”

  Lark and Sarco locked gazes. Finally, a chance to be alone and talk.

  ****

  It took just a little more than half a turn of the hourglass to get everyone assembled, then Sarco, Lark, Uthiel, Briar, Leeky, and Laycee set off to the portal.

  Lark lingered at the back of the group, hoping to get a few private words with Sarco. It didn’t happen. Everyone was talking excitedly at the same time, and being heard over the likes of Laycee and Leeky was an impossibility.

  “What the pulverized bunion on the big toe of a Barbarian backstabber were ya thinking, lass? Can’t ya leave that…that…Tug thing at home once in a while? We don’t need ta take him everywhere we go. Ya’re slowing down the progress and lagging behind.”

  Laycee glared at Leeky and the female doll he had tucked firmly beneath his arm. “Oh, but we need Miss Bunny, I suppose? Why didn’t ya leave her? At least Tug is useful. He has an umbrella attachment ta keep the sun off of us during our picnic so we don’t burn. And his arse has a built in refrigeration device ta keep the drinks cool. What’s Miss Bunny gonna do for us, mix the drinks? Oh, wait. She can’t. She’s plastic and her hands don’t do anything, do they? If I’m not mistaken, it’s just her orifices that are somewhat useful.”

  Sarco stepped between the gnomes. “I think everyone is a little on edge, worrying about the upcoming events. How about if we forget school, classes, and responsibilities today and just have a little fun? I know I could sure use some relaxation.”

  Although they grumbled about it, both Laycee and Leeky agreed, and the group continued toward the portal. They rounded a corner, and the sounds and sights coming from an open door stopped them all in their tracks. They were standing directly in front of Headmistress Seychelle’s office.

  Lark gasped and couldn’t help but gape into the room, at its décor, its occupants, and the activity inside.

  It was like no office she had ever seen before. The floor was covered completely with snow-white fur. The walls reminded her of a medieval castle made of cold, dark, damp stone with strange, torturous-looking devices hanging here and there. The ceiling gave the illusion of a night-time sky, complete with stars and full moon. Clouds moved across the horizon and a gentle breeze blew outward into the hallway.

  Lark could only see two objects in the entire room. One was a huge, black, shiny throne, fitted with straps and shackles. The other appeared to be some kind of upright, stainless-steel rack, and attached to the rack in the most bizarre costume Lark had ever laid eyes on, was Sherman Bobert Limburger the Ninth.

  The halfling was strapped spread-eagled onto the contraption, and beads of sweat pebbled his forehead. His mouth was covered with a thin piece of leather, and a shiny steel ball had been stuffed into it. Around his neck, he wore a silver- studded, spiked, black leather collar. Attached to the ring in the middle of it was a set of chains. The chains led to Sherman’s hairy, now-pierced nipples.

  The sound of Sarco’s gulp and his, “That must’ve hurt,” distracted Lark for only a moment. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see anymore, but morbid curiosity forced her to open her lids.

  Sherman was also wearing a black leather thong below his poochy, hairy belly. Lark cringed. The bare cheeks of his pimply little ass were on display for the world to see. She felt sorry for him. “Isn’t there something we can do? We can’t leave him in there like that. We have to help him.”

  Headmistress Seychelle came into view and Lark shuddered. Black leather kissed and caressed her skin as her stiletto boots sank into the fur-covered floor. In her hand, she held a black, vicious-looking, silver-tipped whip, and the crack of it made not only Lark but also Laycee and Briar jump.

  All three women held their breath. />
  Ray flounced to the base of the rack and dropped an orange, knobby, dildo-looking piece of rubber at Sherman’s feet.

  “Ray loves cock!” he yelled.

  Sherman shook his head quickly back and forth. He looked toward his friends in the hall with desperation and just a touch of fear in his eyes.

  The headmistress caressed his cheek with one long red nail before running it along his chin, down his neck, his chest, and circling the depths of his belly button before reversing her path.

  The halfling grinned and a giggle escaped his gag.

  The whip cracked once more and Sherman’s eyes crossed. The shiny metal ball flew from his mouth and hit the wall across the room with a thud. His knees buckled inward and his toes curled.

  The sound of Uthiel’s voice startled Lark. “My God Draka, did she just flick him in the nuts with that thing?”

  Sherman looked pleadingly toward the group with tears in his eyes. He slowly and very distinctly mouthed the words, “Help me.”

  Leeky cackled, “Naw, she didn’t actually hit him there. She just got close enough to get his undivided attention.”

  The door slammed shut and the sound of bolts tumbling in place reverberated off the walls.

  “Well, then, what the tainted tonsils of a four-fingered, one-legged, lopsided high-elf harlot would ya make of that, lads? Our little Sherman taken under the gentle wing of the most distinguished dominatrix of our time. One thing about it. Sherman Bobert Limburger the Ninth will come out of that room a real man.”

  Lark looked at Sarco, Leeky, and Uthiel as if seeing them for first time. They were all bobbing their heads, grinning from ear to ear, and patting each other on the back as if they had done something truly amazing.

  “You can’t mean to leave him in there with her, can you?”

  Sarco and Uthiel chuckled as Leeky answered.

  “Leave him. VoT, lass, we would’ve been willing ta pay Headmistress Seychelle for the service she’s rendering Sherman for free. Don’t be fretting so. The headmistress hasn’t killed anyone…yet. At least that can be proved.”

  Leeky winked.

  Chapter Twelve

  If ever a man warranted a relaxing afternoon at the beach, Sarco Sunwalker was that man. Lark lay on her side, watching his gloriously naked profile as he slept peacefully on the warm sand beneath the shade of a palm tree. For at least the hundredth time today, guilt for the predicament she’d helped put him in filled her.

  Fewer than seven rotations of the sun and her family would be here. Only fourteen rotations of the sun and the ceremony to ask for Aryanna’s hand in marriage would come to pass, and Sarco would be lost to her forever.

  Lark stared at the glowing orb high in the sky and wondered how something so warm and inviting could herald the end of any chance for happiness she would ever have. But it did.

  Time trickled away from her. What was she going to do?

  She knew it would be impossible to convince her parents to choose her instead of her sister. They barely tolerated the fact she breathed. She couldn’t ask Sarco to give up his place in the world for her, as they’d discussed. They had both come to the inevitable conclusion that before long, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. She couldn’t change the more than eight-hundred-year-old prophecy or what it meant to the people of Albrath. She certainly couldn’t stand in the way of her own sister’s future happiness, but she also couldn’t stop loving Sarco Sunwalker any more than she could stop the grains of sand from sifting through the hourglass.

  So, what could she do?

  Lark closed her eyes and concentrated on what she did have control over, and that was her own self-will. She could step aside with grace even before the ceremony and walk away. She could leave Sarco and Aryanna in peace. She could hold her head high and smile, at least while others were watching. And lastly, she could politely disappear into the far reaches of Albrath.

  But then, where would she go? She had no platt of her own, no marketable skills, and no connections.

  A tear slipped from between her lashes, and Lark swiped it away. Remaining at the Academy after the ceremony was not an option. She could and would give up the only man she was capable of ever loving for the good of all, but there was no way she could stay and watch him become a husband to her sister.

  There were no choices left.

  Lark shuddered as a chill eneveloped her that even the sun couldn’t chase away. Although it was the one place she’d hoped never to see again, she’d have to return home.

  She felt the warmth of Sarco’s breath upon her skin before she heard his voice.

  “What’s wrong, Wonderful? Why are you crying?”

  Lark opened her eyes, and the loving concern reflecting back at her from Sarco’s own dark-brown depths almost melted her reserve. How could she leave this man? She took a deep breath, and did the only thing she could think to do.

  She lied.

  “Nothing’s wrong. As a matter of fact, nothing has ever been so right. The picnic was great, I was famished, and the food delicious. This beach is beautiful.” Lark grasped and scooped a handful of fine, white sand and let it trickle through her fingers.

  “I’ve never been to the Tambian Sea, so this is a treat for me.” She flung out her arms and smiled. “And this secluded cove you found for us is amazing. Oh, and the feel of the warm sun and the gentle breeze is heaven. The best part, though, is having you all to myself, if only for a few hours. My tears are happy ones, Sarco, really they are. Thank you for bringing me here.”

  He smiled and Lark’s heart twisted painfully.

  “I like it when you’re happy, Wonderful. How about if you roll over here and show your man just how happy you are?” Sarco wiggled his eyebrows and grinned lecherously. Lark laughed.

  His skin was like molten steel beneath her fingertips. She gloried in the sharp intake of his breath as, ever so slowly, she allowed a single finger to wander its way from the tip of one of his pebble-hard nipples, downward, sweeping across each rib to swirl in and out of the indentation in his sculptured abdomen, before finally coming to rest on the very tip of his expanding cock.

  His barely restrained control, and the sound of his harsh breath coming hard and deep, brought a smile to Lark’s face.

  “Like that?” She purred as she ran her fingers up and down the length of his shaft.

  His response was almost a growl as he lifted toward her touch. “Oh, I like.”

  Lark giggled. “Then you’ll really enjoy this.”

  She rose and covered him with her body, sliding down until her chin was almost even with the tip of his cock as she nestled it snugly between her breasts. She rocked her body up and down, slowly, methodically, with precision and forethought. With every upstroke, her breasts caressed and cradled his cock, and on the stroke downward, she flicked out her tongue and tasted the tip. Just enough to tease, to torment, and to tantalize. He quivered, and she gloried in her power.

  Lark laid her face against the warm skin of his taut belly and breathed in the essence of the man. Tears stung her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat as she fought to memorize the cadence of his heartbeat, the textures of his skin, the plains and valleys of muscle and sinew, all the things that made Sarco Sunwalker uniquely himself. How could she give this man up? How could she not?

  She sat, straddled him, and gazed into the chocolate warmth of his eyes, trying with all her heart to convey the feelings her tongue refused to speak. She couldn’t say those words to him anymore. It wasn’t her rightful place. How unfair would it be to continue declaring a love that was doomed before it had a chance to blossom? No, she couldn’t say what her heart was screaming for her to proclaim, but with time running out, this might possibly be the last chance she would ever have to show this man how much she loved him. To tell him goodbye.

  With painstakingly slow precision, Lark rose, guided Sarco’s rock-hard cock to her pussy, and eased down the length of it, completely sheathing his life force deep within her body. Sh
e threw back her head and closed her eyes as tiny swirls of red-hot heat skittered throughout her core and exploded in a tempo matching the rhythm of their joining.

  Lark opened her eyes and smiled at the beautiful man beneath her. Locking gazes and fingers, she slowly slid up and down the velvet shaft. He tried to speed the cadence, but she simply shook her head and he acquiesced.

  With each glide up his magnificent cock, Lark arched her back and gloried in the erratic beat of blood coursing through his veins and the quivering hot flesh within her. And with each plunge back down, she took the time to look, really look at the man beneath her and relegate to memory another detail.

  The fine crinkle lines around his eyes, the width of his brow, the crisp points of his high-elf ears, and the flare of his nostrils, the rich fullness of his lips, even the strength in the line of his jaw. Every nuance was a precious piece of the whole that made up the man Sarco Sunwalker.

  Lark lifted her face toward the heavens as clouds rolled in and partially obscured the sun. A fine mist of rain moistened her cheeks like tears. The wind ebbed in cadence with the sea, and Lark realized the weather today was just as confused and uncertain as she. Strangely, it comforted her. She embraced it.

  The sound of waves crashing close by became the beat of her heart as the sea breeze swirling around them became her breath. The lilting songs of birds carried upon the winds were a melody to her soul.

  The warmth of the sun mixed with the coolness of the misty rain upon their skin and fused her to Sarco, joining them as one. Nothing else existed in this, their world—in this, their moment in time.

  She closed her eyes and rode him while holding tightly onto the safe anchor of his fingers intertwined with hers. She lost herself in the wonder of the miracle she knew Sarco Sunwalker to be. With every movement and gesture, her body whispered, I love you, Sarco, though not one word escaped her lips.

  The pressure built, at first no more than a deep throbbing in her pussy that, before long, couldn’t be ignored. Lark tried to stave off her orgasm, not wanting this time with him to end, not ready for this part of her life to be over.