Treasure Revealed

by A. S. Etaski

  “How it should have ended in the candle chamber,” I said, holding my fist tight. “I don’t enjoy hitting buas, Shyntre, but you deserve it this one time.”

  I heard him growl his predictable opposition, gradually regaining his wind. “Had to.”

  “Then don’t act so shocked I want a piece back.”

  Shyntre had dropped the sapphire on his way down but grasped it again before pushing back to his feet, hunched over but stubbornly refusing to cover his aching middle. I smirked, my eyes drifting back to Phaelous, who observed without comment.

  As it always was when he wished it, the Headmaster’s face was an unreadable mask. Meanwhile, I was quivering, and he could tell. I hoped he couldn’t also tell that my slit had grown hungry beneath my leathers.

  Goddess, is it time to see Callitro, yet?

  “Nothing permanent,” I said to them both. “Yet the Prime comes close to killing one of us all the time. I don’t have your protection.”

  The young wizard snorted, his body now shaking more than mine. He tried to speak but was incapable, and not because I’d knocked the air out of him. Shaking his head, Shyntre walked away, putting the sapphire into his pocket.

  Displaying his back to the room, the young wizard said hoarsely, “I’d like to leave, Headmaster.”

  “A moment, Shyntre,” Phaelous said, finally showing me an expression. “Red Sister, did you mean it?”

  My face was stuck in a frown, my focus on the quivering mage. “Did I mean what, Headmaster?”

  “That you don’t enjoy striking buas. Just ‘this one time.’ Was a fist in the gut truly enough to settle the score from your trials?”

  Now the old one had put me on the spot. Had I meant it, or would the humiliating burn come back again? Would it lessen over time? I breathed in, then out, noticing the knot inside was gone; I did feel better. The punch was cathartic, and I knew all my words had hit when he couldn’t speak at all. It was obvious this would eat at Shyntre regardless, locked up here.

  While I could let it go, if I wanted, make that call. I had that freedom.

  Plus, now I was horny. Stupid cunt.

  “Yes, Headmaster,” I said with an easy smile. “The score is now settled. I’ve wanted to locate and punch the invisible wizard from my trials for the last turn. Now I’ve done that.”

  “Red Sisters always do a lot more than the original insult,” the young mage snarled, turning his head toward me without turning his back. “Wait until they call you weak for letting me off that easy. You’ll be back.”

  “Oh? Do you want more, Shyntre? ‘A lot’ more?”

  “What I want doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Poor bua!” I snorted, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes. “It was the petty ass-fuck at the end which flicked me off, Shyntre. It wasn’t necessary, you’re just a poor loser. I know you didn’t have a choice about the rest, and I’ve faced the Prime, too.”

  When he didn’t reply, I shrugged, looking to the elder male in the room. “Truth, Headmaster? The rest was fun. I like power games like that. If he wanted to play again, I’d consider it. I don’t see feisty ones like him wandering about.”

  Now Phaelous’ son turned halfway around and shot me a withering look. My face split into a white, challenging grin. Meanwhile, the Headmaster was smiling with apparent genuine pleasure.

  “Hm. We appreciate your generosity on this complicated subject, young Sister—”

  “No, we don’t,” the younger male mouthed, and I chuckled.

  “If the grudge is indeed satisfied on your end, Sirana,” the old wizard continued, throwing a warning glance at his son to be still, “my compliments to you. We don’t see many such as yourself in Sisterhood, Sanctuary, or the Palace.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  I exhaled, liking this lifted feeling somehow. Unlike female Davrin, whom I could insult and draw lasting back-and-forth, there was only so much Shyntre could do for a punch to the gut, especially as payback for a specific action. My holding on to this would mean I was as petty as him.

  I nodded with confidence in my decision. “The grudge is settled, Headmaster, Shyntre. Unless he’d like to start it back up. In which case, I’ll gladly top him.” I winked. “Every time.”

  Phaelous bowed his head with grace and gratitude on behalf of his son, seeming to have let go tricking me into accepting one of the blue stones. “Shyntre?”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said stubbornly, at last rubbing his sore middle, a sight I enjoyed. “But I’ll not touch her again.”

  I smothered a laugh. Infamous last words.

  Satisfied in one way, now I ached for satisfaction in the other. “Will Shyntre escort me to the seventeenth level now, Headmaster? Before my Elder returns.”

  If I had strangled my glee just now, Shyntre had a chokehold on his groan.

  “If he is willing,” his sire said in a surprising show of leniency, offering the young wizard an exit on a silver platter.

  “I’ll do it,” Shyntre said, just short of a grouse.

  Ha. Stubborn bua.

  I had a guess why he’d refused the easy way out. It wasn’t too different from some of the things I tried in my determination to show Jilrina I wasn’t afraid of her. So I told myself.

  Bidding the Headmaster a good eve, I happily followed Shyntre out of the library and towards the jump circle. I bit my lower lip to make sure I didn’t “distract” him at a bad time; he was having enough trouble with that on his own. Knowing this, I recognized the feeling similar when I’d thrown Thena back from Jael and me when she was unwanted.

  I could fight back and cause real change in those around me. At last.

  An urp escaped from my mouth as we jolted our way onto a familiar-smelling floor, and I nearly reached out to take his shoulder to keep my balance. That would have been a mistake, given how he almost vibrated with tension.

  “Relax a bit, your muscles will snap,” I whispered, righting myself as the vertigo passed.

  The sour wizard might have mouthed something obscene, looking toward the bend in the hall away from me.

  “Are you always going to act like this?” I asked.

  “Shh.”

  I ignored that; my slit was thinking for me at this point, anyway. “I mean it, Shyntre. We can play. You have a beautiful tongue when you aren’t using it to talk. And I’ve learned a few things since then. I can show you.”

  He spun on me; we hadn’t even left the circle yet. He cast something, and the air around us seemed to deaden. A voice-muting spell.

  “Will you stop?” he demanded. “Let me fucking breathe!”

  I glanced down at the front of his robe. No erection poking through to betray him. Damn. I sighed. “I spoke truth to your sire, wizard. You and I are even for the game we were forced to play. Might be better by choice next time. Don’t you think?”

  “Next time?” he repeated incredulously.

  When I just grinned at him and said nothing, Shyntre scoffed and shook his head, dispelling the mute shield, and stomping the first few steps toward Callitro’s door. I followed, not making another peep. He had a nice ass, what I could see of it.

  As before, Callitro answered quickly, greeting me with his bright smile. “Come in, Red Sister.”

  Shyntre bowed his head, barely enough to be respectful in front of the other and turned to leave without a word.

  My blood singing in my veins, my netherlips already drooling, I slipped inside, and we closed the door. The young mage’s eyes widened, his heart surged, and he held his place, waiting for me. I seized the willing bua into my arms, pushing him backward as I kissed him, ready to fuck him deep into the mattress.

  “Goddess,” the battlemage gasped, trying to breathe, though he responded to every kiss, returning them if I didn’t beat him to it. “Sirana.”

  His heel kicked a fiberstalk box on the floor by accident, sending it beneath his bed. He didn’t notice as I plunged
my hand down the front of his wizard’s robe, caressing his smooth skin. He finally got to stripping naked.

  What Callitro lacked in Sister-like aggression, he always made up for in enthusiasm.

  D’Shea hadn’t summoned me by the time I had worn the wizard and myself out. Once again, Callitro felt safe enough to drift into a light doze, and I was tempted to do the same. I struggled to stay awake, however, playing with my sloppy, buzzing crotch and allowing my mind to wander.

  I had always enjoyed any bua’s cock at Court, especially their proof of pleasure; the bitter, slippery eruption when they lost control that I would never get from a Feldeu. However, Callitro’s body and responses quickly grew familiar. I could drink deeply of him, be assured I’d get what I wanted, even though it had been Shyntre to whet my appetite this time.

  Despite either intent or effort.

  How was this? That such disrespect, such resentment and resistance in the spoiled, insolent son of the Headmaster had made me so hot.

  It’s a challenge, a defiant prick swinging in front of my eyes. Of course, I want to reach out and grasp it.

  I’d never truly forced a bua into sex until Auslan, and sometimes I felt confused how his consistent dissuasion afterward, even though I knew he wanted me despite our first meeting continued to feed my appetite. And Shyntre resisted, too, but he had forced me first; despite motive or circumstance, that didn’t change the fact he’d jammed his cock down my throat, spitting insults, or had the gall to mount my backside like he held some soiled high ground.

  Games.

  I’d just called it that in the Headmaster’s library. A new kind of game I hadn’t played much with males at Court, but I said to Phaelous quite plainly that I knew I liked them. It was like the games with Jaunda, but I was on the dominant side.

  Or at least, it felt that way, and I had suggested to Shyntre we do it again sometime, when the Prime and the Elders weren’t arranging it like a gladiator fight. Goddess, his expression when I said that. It had caused a burst of pure delight down between my legs.

  Games and those who would play them. A less acidic version of what my older sister had forced me to play, perhaps.

  Perhaps. Careful you don’t become like her.

  I’d promised myself that decades ago.

  I watched Callitro sleeping, looking disheveled in his somewhat disorderly room. The cooperative bua was play for me as well, genuinely enjoyable but of a more familiar kind. He did not receive a lot of sex in general, sequestered from the nosing females of Sivaraus because of his inborn talent. He was as hungry as me and quite a bit of fun, although…

  I made a face to myself. He isn’t all that I want.

  I couldn’t let myself be exclusive with any wizard at the Tower, anyway. There was nothing wrong with having a couple favorites here, and just like my Sisters, I enjoyed some buas more than others at Court. Feeling a desire as I had for those who had become my favorites, I knew I wanted to win Shyntre’s reluctant cock.

  My way, next time. I’ll have him spurt in my cunt, where it belongs.

  It was the only hole of mine that he hadn’t yet creamed, after all.

  My fingers diddled faster with my thoughts, my mouth stretched into a distracted smile as I contemplated waking Callitro by sucking my own, drying juices from his flaccid prick. I glanced at the candle. We might have time for one more.

  Callitro inhaled, deep and sudden, and opened his eyes. Caught me staring at him. He blinked. Waiting and willing to submit, an unconscious response.

  I smiled hungrily. “Anything new on my ring? I know it hasn’t been long since I tried it on.”

  “Um—”

  “If not, I want to go again.”

  His penis throbbed, just starting to swell under my gaze. Yum.

  “The ring is almost finished, Red Sister,” he said.

  “Do you need anything from me?” I asked, and he shook his head. I rose up on my knees to lean over his hips, reaching for his sex. “In that case—”

  I slurped him down, and he gasped, his erection plumping up between my lips, spongy and hot, gradually growing turgid. Another experience I never got from the Feldeu. I pushed his thighs apart with one hand, and he obeyed, spreading for me and bending his knees as I slickened two fingers in my own twat before removing them and prodding between his cheeks. Callitro lifted his legs, knowing what to expect, and groaned as I penetrated his ass with both fingers at once.

  I savored how he yielded, how metal-hard his cock in my mouth became as I found and stroked his nut gland. Though nowhere near ready for a fist, as my Elder had jested, Callitro responded well now to a cait exploring his pucker. It hadn’t taken long.

  Neither did I, this time, as I soon removed my fingers, wiped them on his bedding, and climbed up to get that properly-prepped length up inside. I didn’t know how much time we had. I fisted his hair just above his nape, gripped one shoulder, focusing on his face, and began to ride. Hard.

  Callitro clutched my hips, moved with me without restraining me. Closed his eyes to breathe slower when my gaze grew too intense for him. He worked hard to avoid climaxing before I did, and he must, for I didn’t make it easy on him. Perhaps he thought of something less arousing to hold out, while I thought of something even more.

  A mottled, fanged Dread Spider with enormous tits, leaking yellowed milk, versus a struggling bua with gold flecks in his eyes, bound to a table and still spitting insults despite the root stuffed in his mouth.

  Just as example.

  I blinked, shook my head as my pacing stumbled, and Callitro groaned. The trickle of fear coming into me made me hold him down; instinctively he resisted, writhing in a gasp of shock.

  “Yes!” I whispered, my jaw slack as I trembled, clasping his shoulder, now slightly sticky with sweat. “Fight back. Resist me. I’m gonna cum…”

  Callitro obeyed, his burnt orange eyes unfocused, the flicking about recalling a flame, and his whole body tried once to throw me off him. He moaned like he had something in his mouth; I wasn’t sure how he did that without practice, but it made my arousal surge, accelerating the climb.

  “Yes, bua!”

  I held him down. Fucked him harder, his body tensing as I reached and gripped one wrist, pressed it down. Held his hair, his head in place as I anointed his cock with my slimy markings, thrust after thrust, cramming him in. Hurtling toward that intangible, black edge.

  “G-God…Goddess!” I gasped, my cunt rippling, clenching.

  “Mmmrrghh!!” Callitro cried, teeth clenched, lower lip quivering, his cock throbbing inside me. Spurting!

  “Yes!!”

  ~Fuuuck! Fuck me! Oh, OH!~

  Sweat. Heat. Pounding, pulsing, pleasure.

  I collapsed, rasping, forehead to the mattress. Cock softening amidst goo between my legs. He was shaking. A hand on back. He whimpered softly.

  “H-hurt?” I asked, my head still spinning.

  The mage took much longer to answer—to decide how to answer—than I would have believed genuine if it had been any other words to come from his lips.

  “I-I don’t know. My head. Aches.”

  As did mine. Fuck.

  “You need water,” I said, and Callitro nodded agreement.

  I pushed myself off him and went to get it from his stand. I noticed when the wizard sniffed his own source.

  “Let me, um, purify this,” he said. “Just in case.”

  “Alright.”

  Afterward, we both drank thirstily; we consumed all there was, saying nothing else. I wiped down and started to dress as Callitro pulled a blanket to himself. I hadn’t yet received a summons, but there wasn’t time for another round before the potion I’d drunk would wear off anyway. It might be a first, not being interrupted or hurrying to gear up with someone waiting outside the door.

  “Are you better?” I asked, my headache having faded by the time I finished.

  The mage nodded, his brows still drawn, a mystified look on
his face. “I apologize, Sister, it felt like… someone tampered with my water. I hallucinated just before I… climaxed.”

  I held myself still. “What did you see?”

  Callitro tried to shrug it off. “It wasn’t real. Like a dream in Reverie.”

  I shrugged, my stomach tight as I sat down on the bed’s edge. “Tell me. I’m just curious, not angry. You’re a good fuck, mage, like always. I’m satisfied.”

  He glanced at me, wariness and reassurance clashing in his eyes. “Mm. I saw the Drider Keeper. She’s been in bad dreams before, the warning tales I’ve heard. What she does to young buas tied up and left in her Pit.” Callitro glanced at me. “You’ve probably seen her. I hope I never will.”

  I kept my mouth closed, listening. I knew similar stories, geared more for Nobles who might think they could avoid being sacrificed on an altar if they overstepped their bounds. But, no, I had never seen the Keeper, either. It only now occurred to me that, as a Red Sister, I just might. A grotesque delight waiting.

  “She… the Keeper was fucking me,” he murmured. “Milking me before sucking me dry with her spider fangs. Just for a moment, I forgot it was you, Red Sister.” He swallowed. “No insult to you, I swear upon the Grace of the Valsharess. As I said, one of my ‘brothers’ must have slipped something into my water as a prank. I wouldn’t have fought you if I recognized you.”

  I nodded. “I believe you. You’re well now?”

  Callitro exhaled, considered, and nodded. “Yes, Red Sister. I am. Thank you for asking.”

  Self-suspicion and guilt had wormed its way in by now, and I leaned to kiss his lips, lightly. I tried a smile. “I should return. Wish to escort me down?”

  The battlemage looked about his own cluttered, well-worn space and nodded. “Yes, Red Sister, I wish.”

  It seemed a change of scenery would help. I stood up so he could get to his feet, wipe down, and get dressed, waiting as I tried to think about something other than being fucked by Driders. I spied the small, grey box under the bed.

  “You kicked something underneath,” I said, nudging the corner with my boot as Callitro glanced my way while rubbing down.