[b][u][center]The Distractions of Affection Part 5 For a-lycotonum By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Gralon Brundir was in the gardens when he felt the twitch at the wards leading to his home. He paused for a moment, the white-robed assimar considering whether it needed greater attention. The movement of the person passing into his grounds was fast, faster than the average visitor, but then the rest of the warding caught up, bringing information to him. It was merely Mika, the Halstad judge on approach. He shook his head, the hoofed being making his way to one of the benches that dotted this particular garden and taking a seat. He crossed one leg over the other, the bottom of the robes spreading slightly as he did, and shook his head as he rested his chin on one hand. [i]Mysteries within mysteries…[/i] Checking into Vitus’s history at the Arcanamirium had been left in the hands of the Halstad siblings, but there were other bits and pieces of information that he could set his other minions to finding. There were many things that he realized that he didn’t know, ranging from Vitus’s basic upbringing in the city to the far-flung accomplishments of his name. The various details were difficult to find, and he was surprised at just how little success his agents had. Considering that he had clerks and other judges in the city on his payroll, he would have expected to find more than he had. But he still had [i]something.[/i] There had been little information on Vitus himself before he reached the Arcanamirium, but there were stories of a Leontina family that had been present in Absalom for a generation or two, depending on how you counted such things. Before that, the line stretched back to the continent, and more specifically, back to Cheliax. He had never imagined that the possibility of Neena finding Vitus out there would have borne any weight, but if his family had come from there, then it was possible that, in his flight, the young man might have fled towards something of his old family history. Yet, he had never heard Vitus mention anything, not even an inkling of such a past. And considering how devoted the young man had been to the cause of keeping demons out of the world, he had thought that there would have been [i]something[/i] there. And yet… And yet… He rubbed his chin, shaking his head. There were too many holes in his knowledge, too many gaps where he didn’t have a surety of what had happened or what was true. Vitus was getting further and further out of his grip, and Absalom was becoming more and more unstable by the minute. He blamed his own hastiness for that. He knew that if he hadn’t tried to retrieve the hellhound as he fled, there would have been greater damage to his plans, but the results had hardly been useful. The city had destabilized, the formerly-quiet academy had risen up against him inasmuch as it could without declaring war, and now, he had to deal with the fact that his own obsessions were drawing his mind anywhere but the focus of the plan. The aasimar knew that his devil was growing more disappointed in him, feeling that he was being too sentimental about the whole thing. Perhaps, in some ways, he was. Dispater was still on his side, and agreed with him, he knew that much, but how long would an infernal benefactor keep to that when he wasn’t getting what he had been promised? [i]Why do I care so much again?[/i] Gralon wondered. To that, he had no clear answer, neither good nor bad. He just knew that things were rapidly sliding out of his grip, and he needed to do something to get a handle on things again before he was in the shit. He shook his head as he felt the presence of Mika coming into the garden. She was concerned about something, his magic told him, but what that was, he couldn’t quite catch. Then again, he didn’t need to. Her brother hadn’t accompanied her, and that was in and of itself a problem. He turned as she rounded the corner, looking into her eyes. She was terrified, her mouth hanging open, her gray judge robe all but falling off her shoulders. Her undershirt was in disarray as if she’d run the whole way, and her hair had nearly lost the rings of judgment. “What happened?” he asked. “They knew.” “…Knew what?” “Knew that someone had a plan,” Mika panted, bowing her head as she fell to her knees. “It was Sivar’s mistake, I swear. They didn’t seem to know it was me, I don’t think, but they were ready for something to happen. They had the Dean of Abjuration waiting in the record room, and they caught my brother.” “…” “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Master. Please. Forgive me.” [i]They…knew?[/i] Of all the things to hear, that was not what he had expected. Of course, it was entirely possible that the Arcanamirium had had a shake-up inside, particularly after whatever had happened with Vitus involving the demons and the rumors of a missing teacher, but that didn’t mean anything. That should have meant more confusion from them. They knew that he was at least tangentially involved with the escaped outsiders, and the war that had happened just outside the gates of the Arcanamirium, but they didn’t know it for a fact, or he would have been brought up before their council – and the city – on dozens of charges. So…what did they want? What did they expect? What had they done? He stood up, but the motion only drove Mika into further despair, lowering her head to the ground. She wept, begging for forgiveness. “Stand up.” She did, and did it instantly. He grabbed her by the collar of her robe, pulling her close. “Tell me everything. Now.” “Y-yes, Master.” The tale came loose, bit by bit. She had gone, as she’d been instructed, and had been met by the Headmistress rather than a representative. Odd, but not impossible, as it was certainly within the head of the academy’s purview to look over the different contracts that they were offered. If it was off, then it was off by the fact of someone of greater authority choosing to meet with the representative sent, but as he had sent a judge, that made some sort of sense. The fact that they had let Mika go, however… “Why didn’t they keep you?” he asked. “They…they didn’t say.” “Nothing?” “They just…they told me I wasn’t welcome.” Then they were still treading unclear waters, he imagined. They didn’t have something to use against him, so they weren’t going to test their luck by holding a judge of the city hostage. Even if they weren’t going to allow her past the walls any longer, they weren’t going to hold her inside them, either. Which meant that they were hoping to get something from Sivar. Which meant that his fate rested on the sullen shoulders of a were-rat that would jump at the first sign of a better offer. “Hmmmph…” “Master?” “Come with me.” Again, they were moving, and this time, they made for the central building of the estate. He pushed past the servants, all of which had gone glassy-eyed at a whisper of a word from his lips. The spells that crisscrossed the estate were many and varied, and they all gave him power over those that walked its lanes. A simple word had been sufficient to cloud the minds of all, to forget that he was there, to just go about their business and avoid offering him any trouble at the moment. They walked to the center of the building, and then down to the basement. Mika kept right to his heels, the human woman clearly terrified, as she should be. While he wasn’t one to destroy his tools, he was one to make sure that their discipline was maintained. Down, down, down, to the bottom of the stairs and the locked door waiting. A gesture, a word, and a flash of silver opened it, and they stepped through to the other side. A ritual circle, one of many, had already been laid out with scrying symbols. “Stay.” Mika obeyed, standing with her hands at her side at the doorway. Gralon spread his arms and began the chant. With Sivar in the Arcanamirium, he had a link that could bypass the usual barriers between him and the many secrets within. He would not be able to see more than what Sivar saw, and he would not be able to spread his sight far from that one room, but he would, at least, know what his underling was doing. # Sivar, at that moment, was masturbating. Of course, with his arms held overhead in glowing shackles and his legs pulled down by similar weights, there was some difficulty with that, but with the combination of his tail-tip tickling like a tongue between his cheeks and the use of the right muscles, he could just about manage it. “Hmmm, hmmm…” He dripped away as he flexed the core muscles beneath his sheath, pulling and clenching by turns to make his cock continue to rise, flex, and throb out of his sheath. The furry tube had long since ceased to be any sort of stimulating, and he let his mind wander to the woman that had captured him. Dean of Abjuration. He looked forward to seeing what the name behind the title was. She had been very careful about that, and he understood why. The demon in him, the incubus, could have used that to strengthen the curse in her, but there was no chance of that just yet. But that was fine. She’d been cursed, and that meant that the curse would grow over time. Until she purged it, there was still a chance that it might overwhelm her. And until then, he’d have his fun. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. There it was, grinding his rising cock through his belly-fur, tickling it with the softer fur and hide around his stomach. It wasn’t much, but it did get him drippier, oozing more through the tip and making a long, slender line of pre-cum fall to the floor. The stone tiles didn’t offer any real purchase or place for it to land, and it was impossible to aim it for the spell-forms that had been burnt into the stone, but it was still self-satisfying. And really, wasn’t that all that a were-rat needed? The smell of his own musk continued to rise as he kept teasing himself, hands-free, and he occupied his thoughts from time to time by looking around the lab that the Dean was keeping him in. The whole place was lined with purple lights and magic runes. None of them made any sense to him, of course; he had never been raised with magic, nor with knowledge of it. Perhaps his sister might have tried a case that would have informed her, but he had nothing. Nevertheless, the fumes of a bubbling cauldron, the heat of an alchemy set on the wall, and the general state of academia told him that he was dealing with someone well-schooled, and the large club on the far wall told him that he was dealing with someone that was used to taking a hand in the physical side of things. He remembered how she’d dealt with him in the record room, and wondered just how good she’d be in a fight. Considering that she’d been able to shove him away without magic, he felt that she might be a challenge. He liked that thought. Just as much as he liked the idea of fucking her face and leaving her smeared with were-rat cum just before she started her own transformation. Click. Sivar looked up from his masturbation and the mental images of her getting a nice, fat ass to go with her new tail faded to the simple sight of the door opening and the dark-skinned woman stepping through. She had discarded her armor for something a little more practical, though no less protective. A mail shirt ran from her shoulder to her knee, and she carried a mace at her side. Her leather belt pulled it in tight enough to show off at least a few curves, and he licked his lips as he imagined just how much fun she’d be out of that thing. “Looks like you’re trying to be a warrior.” “And it seems that you’re still trying to get my goat.” “Nah. I’m more in a mood for pussy.” “Your jokes do you no credit.” “Who’s saying it’s a joke? And who’s saying that you don’t want it?” He thrust his hips forward, knowing that the curse was in there, and he was almost rewarded. Almost. His demonic ‘partner’ in the back of his head could feel a flash of libido in there, something that really wanted it, but she didn’t show it on her face. No sign at all, not even a blush. She was [i]very[/i] good. “You are something more than a were-rat,” she said, shutting the door and locking it behind her. “Under normal circumstances, you would be locked in a vault, but given the current situation –” “You mean your fucking attraction to me?” “…Given that you are obviously not merely a were-rat, and we do not know all the possible applications of your powers, you will be kept here. Escape is nearly as difficult, and I can keep a closer eye on you myself.” Nearly. Which meant that there would be a chance. Sivar looked forward to finding it and putting this woman in her place. She wasn’t as bad as that elf bitch, but she was still above him, over him, and the urge to yank her off her pedestal and drag her through the mud at his side was nearly overwhelming. [i]You’re lucky that I’m tied up…[/i] He flexed his hands over his head, where the shackles held his wrists together. He could almost feel the gaps between the bands of enchanted metal, and he knew that if they were normal handcuffs, he might have been able to slip the gap, thread the needle and get his hands free. Not in this case. When he tried wiggling, he felt the shocks and the warning power of the magic telling him not to try. This time, he listened. Shaking his head, he watched as the mail-shirted woman walked around her lab. She didn’t have that stiff gait of someone that was nervous around a dangerous animal, nor did she have the oblivious movement of someone that didn’t care about a threat that was in the room. She was measured, controlled, yes, but there was confidence in her walk, as if she knew what she was dealing with and, while careful, still knew that she could handle it. Sivar didn’t know if he admired her or hated her for that. Probably a bit of both. As she kept her silence, he shrugged and went back to flexing his cock. His muscles down there were due for a work-out, anyway. Throb. Thrust. Throb. Thrust. His cock continued to bounce and twist at the exit of his sheath, showing off just how much he had to offer. The last time that he had properly buried it in a bitch rather than just getting sucked off was too long back now. He imagined that this human probably didn’t have much experience with getting fucked, but he wouldn’t mind giving her an education. He imagined that she’d be a quick learner. Particularly with that ass. He licked his lips as she walked to her lab, pulling at various glass vials. Her ass was just wide enough to show through her clothes, the metal doing nothing to take away the appeal as it swayed back and forth, the links clinking and clicking as she leaned forward. He whistled, and she stood up straight, looking back at him. “You have no thoughts other than your cock, you would have me think,” the Dean said. “I think with it, heh. And you should think about it.” “I have.” “Fuck, you’re admitting it? Damn, you’re easy.” “As a mystery. And a threat.” “Heh, what, you some sort of –” “Equal opportunist.” “Heh, come here, and I’ll show you what you’re missing with women, then.” The Dean narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew that he’d pissed her off. Didn’t care, though; it was going to be more fun if she was angry, not thinking clearly, and – She walked right over to him, each step purposeful and more than a little bit louder than the next. The last step came with a sharp click on the stone, followed by a metal glove wrapped around his balls. And a tight squeeze. A very, [i]very[/i] tight squeeze. Sivar arched his back, hissing through his fangs as she pulled down, feeling like there was a ball of iron hanging from his sac. The human looked up at him, her other hand casually diverting his cock to point in a different direction as she looked him right in the eye. “I will tell you right now. If you try and insult me, then you will have to pay the price. You, Sivar Halstad, are a criminal. The fact that you were released is a disgrace to the justice of Absalom, and your sister should be ashamed to associate with you after what you’ve done. The fact that you are here, however, means that there is no reason for me to take it lightly with you. I have every reason to rip you apart and leave you for one of the other schools to put back together. If you give me a reason, I will take you apart for the sake of ‘research’ without a second thought. Do you want to give me that reason, hmm?” Sivar thought about it, and shook his head. “Good.” She let go, and he wheezed as the blood flowed back to his balls. They ached, bruised on the sides, though that wasn’t precisely visible through the brown fur down there. As he wheezed for breath, the dark-skinned Dean returned to collecting her various vials. “From now on, I expect a modicum of respect. If you treat me with common courtesy, then I will ensure that these tests proceed with a minimum of discomfort for either of us. If you decide to rant at me, or try and taunt me, then I will steadily escalate your punishments until you learn your lesson. “And no, they will not be sexual punishments. They will be proper disciplinary techniques. And you will not enjoy them. “Do you understand me, Mr. Halstad? Or are you going to make me teach you a further lesson before we get on to our first tests?” “…I…understand.” As he wheezed after his balls had nearly been crushed, however, he couldn’t help but connect to the curse in her once again. It [i]was[/i] still there, and it should have been doing something to her. There hadn’t been a single victim that had managed to stay on their feet after the first kiss, and she had suffered from this for hours, now. How she hadn’t grown even a hint of fur, let alone been overwhelmed by the lust that he had forced down her throat, baffled him. And yet… And yet… It was there. And he could feel her interests, even now, were at least tinged by the idea of pleasure. When he had been thrusting through the air, while he had been showing off, she’d been at the very least, curious about what it might feel like to have him against her. She had been at least partially interested. That meant that there had to be a chance, if he could just get in contact with her again, touch her, expand the curse that the incubus in him had left behind. [i]Damn…damn…damn…[/i] Despite it all, he was enticed. The rat in him, the little piece that had always been a sewer rat even before his transformation, hungered for the chance to drag her down. There was something that always craved to bite and tear and pull and rip and break, the part that wanted everyone that lived above the sewers, above the streets, to know that there were those that could meet them. It wasn’t the drive to combat, wasn’t the urge to better himself. He knew that, and he didn’t pretend that it was anything else. It was more…more the urge to see others brought low. The urge to make sure that they never pulled themselves back to the heights. He wanted them to be as filthy and depraved as him; if they were going to look down, to say that they were better, then let them fucking prove it. This bitch… This bitch might actually be able to do it, and that scared him enough to make him determined to break her even with this disadvantage. She finally returned, bringing her vials with her. He bit back the chuckle that he’d normally have made as she grabbed his cock, squeezing at the base. “I assume that you have some creature of lust in you. If it is, then this is pointless, but if you are, instead, drugged with something, then it will show in your various fluids. Seed, saliva, and blood: I will be collecting them all.” “…” “No comment on some other method being more fun?” Normally, yes, but she had her hand on his cock, and it was the metal-gauntleted one that had very nearly castrated him. Sivar was angry, not stupid. The Dean nodded. “Good. Now. Surrender it.” She wrapped her hand tightly around his shaft, giving it a slow squeeze from base to head and back again. The dry metal was far from arousing, but the pressure was…oddly sensual. The dark-skinned woman closed her eyes, muttering something – “NNNNGH!” The sudden shock that ran through his cock was anything but sensual, and he arched his back as he felt the magic lightning dart through him, running through his cock to his ass and then up and down his spine. Everything seized up, his shaft throbbed, his balls clenched – “NNGH!” And as they delivered their payload, she lifted the vials to catch what he squirted. Sivar hissed as every blast went right down the glass tube, filling it up with an off-white fluid that kept coming, squirting, filling, blasting, and he sagged against the various restraints holding him up as he was drained further, further, and further still. Then, it was done. He hung there, panting and shaking as the hot metal came off his cock. Little marks of black and dark red lingered, half-burned into his shaft, and he shivered as a hint of fear tried to creep up his spine. For the first time, he was actually scared. For the first time, his anger and disdain for anyone over him was completely overwhelmed with actual terror. She could hurt him. She could kill him. And he had no idea if he was good enough to slow her down, let alone stop her. [i]Oh gods…oh gods…[/i] Sivar shivered from head to toe as she capped the cork, and barely kept it from becoming a full-on breakdown as she pulled him down from his floating position. He wanted to pull away, but managed to keep from giving in that much as she reached for his face. Her armored gauntlet was still warm as she pinched at the hinge of his jaw, forcing his mouth open with a stronger grip than he would have credited her for. “The pain will ease,” she said. “Mmmph…” “You will be fine.” “Nnngh…” “Consider it a lesson. I will treat you better when I know that you will not use it against me.” He hated those words. He hated them, specifically, for the fact that they gave him a way to avoid pain, and that he was tempted by them. Treat her better. Don’t use her kindness against her. Be a good boy. They always said that when they wanted something from someone that didn’t want to give it. The rich people always wanted those under them to submit, to obey, to just do what they were told without recompense. You had to fight back, you had to rip them down, force them to give you what you wanted, or it’d never be enough. They always held back. Always made you afraid. Always said that they’d be good if you were just good first. Lies. Always lies. But at the same time, he knew that he could [i]not[/i] take fighting something like that long-term. He didn’t know if Mika would come for him, and he knew for a fact that Brundir would be pissed at him failing, perhaps pissed enough to leave him here until he escaped on his own. If that was the case… It was almost tempting to tell her what he knew, to stab Brundir in the back, but for the moment, the curses and loyalty spells that the aasimar had laid on him held strong. Perhaps the Dean would take those off him, eventually, or perhaps he might find a way to weasel free, but for now, he couldn’t even save his skin by telling them what they wanted to know. All he could do was hang there and choose how he presented himself. He had to be something…he had to be something to survive. A rat…a rat always survived… [i]Fuck…fuck…FUCK![/i] Sivar hated himself, but if what would keep him alive was playing the good boy, then he would play the good boy. He let her scrape along his tongue for saliva, putting it into a vial, and turned his head obediently when she took a knife to the side of his arm. “No further complaints?” “…No,” he muttered. “Hmm…” “What?” “You are afraid.” “You’re terrifying,” he said, completely honestly. “More terrifying than your employer?” “…No,” he said, after another consideration, which was, again, honest. As much as he would sell out Brundir right then and there if the spells would allow him, he wasn’t about to say that Brundir was the less terrifying of the two. “I’d say that I’d die if I said the wrong thing.” “Hmm. Must be quite the deal.” “For someone.” “…Hmm.” “What?” “Nothing.” He wanted to snip at her, to tell her that she should answer his questions if he answered hers, but…but he knew better. He knew where things would fall if he fought right now. So, instead, Sivar kept his mouth shut. She bandaged him rather than leaving him bleeding, and then lifted him back to his restraints with nothing but a gesture. There was a moment of silence as she turned, and he wondered what was going through her head. Then it passed, and he was alone in the lab once more. Sivar took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let it out. He did it again, and again, and each time, he forced himself to flex his pained cock, forcing it to stay hard, forcing himself to think of the moment that would eventually come when he was free of the chains. The kiss hadn’t worked, but there were far stronger means of increasing that curse, and if she bore some corruption from it already – and he knew that she must, if she was already feeling a little interest in a were-rat – then there was a way to make it grow. He just had to find out what she liked. Once he knew that, he could start making it worse…make her like it more…and as her libido grew…well, maybe that wall that she’d put around the curse would start to crack. All he needed was one. That was all he ever needed. # Gralon Brundir was not pleased with what he saw, but he wasn’t [i]displeased,[/i] either. “Your brother…is not a complete idiot,” the aasimar muttered, pinching his nose. “For now, it seems that the secret of who you two truly serve remains safe. You were not followed?” “No,” Mika said, shaking her head. “Then we will assume that the spells on you held for the moment. Your brother is kept prisoner, and they’re sampling him, likely trying to figure out what gave him the power to try and curse one of the Deans.” A problematic moment, that, but one that might have an opportunity in the offing. He had given Sivar a relatively powerful incubus as a partner, after all, and it might be sufficient to create an opening for them, depending on just how much the Dean could resist, and how off-guard she could be rendered. The problem was, he couldn’t affect that from a distance, not without making it an act of war to seize Sivar back. But he could… He had to think. He had to do this right. “For now, set yourself to filing paperwork through the city justice department. See to it that the people of Absalom know that the Arcanamirium are taking these steps. Show them that the mages are no longer trusting the city to do their job. Circulate rumors. Do everything you can to start putting dents in their credibility.” “And you, Master?” Mika asked. “…I will think.” “Master?” “Go.” He waved his hand, and the infatuated, desperate human ran off to do her job. He stared at the scrying circle, wishing that he could use it to see if the Dean was doing what she said she was, or if she was lying to Sivar to create a different narrative. He didn’t know what the Arcanamirium knew, or what the Headmistress actually had figured out yet. All he knew was that they had one of his agents. [i]If that had been Vitus, their walls would already be burning,[/i] he thought. The reminder of how much he cared for that hellhound compared to what he felt for the rat and his sister hit him hard, and he sighed as he leaned against the wall. Things were spiraling, alright, and if he didn’t do something soon, he would lose what control he had. And if he lost control, then it wouldn’t be just Dispater that would come calling for payment… [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b] Summary: Sivar’s capture is relayed to Lord Gralon Brundir, who peers in on the events as they occur. Tags: M/F, M/solo, Femdom, Bondage, Were-Rat, Human, Pain, Electricity, Spells, Magic, Series, Domination, Aasimar, Fantasy, Slaves, Corruption, Prison,