The Magician's Bitch, Ch. 4

 

Chapter 4: Age and Lineage

 

It’s about the first week of the third month when it happens.

I return to my room after breakfast, after his morning load, and look at myself in the mirror, scooping the worst of the heaviness from my eyes. In my hands it’s innocuous, just thick muck, stinking ancient and musky with its virile cargo. Off-white, gooey, ropey, knotted, thick. And I look at myself, and the darndest thought occurs.

What if I should just…

But when I lick my lips, the stuff evaporates. I lift my hand to my mouth, but find it empty. Elsewhere it remains, but that which I try to taste vanishes. Something magical, something strange, so I wash and relegate the detail to the banks of memory. A weirdness, but not something to say: he’d cotton on immediately to what I attempted.

Archaelaus doesn’t find me in the afternoon. I ignore that, but when it grows dark, something is clearly wrong. I climb the tower from the first library to the second, and then to the laboratory. He’s not behind his desk. I go and look at the tome in progress, neat and orderly, and spot the little bottle of my semen, discarded in a waste basket. Memory might fail me, but it looks no less full.

Taking that to heart, my interest changes. He needed my fluids, didn’t he? But then…

‘Sonny,’ Archaelaus calls. His voice carries, no matter where we are, relative to one another. ‘In the sitting room, my boy. Come, see me.’

I descend, at last setting eyes upon him again. The old mage sits in a dressing gown tonight, a velvet purple and blue thing, faintly regal. A fire crackles away in the large hearth, casting a warm glow on the room and its cushioned seats. Archaelaus smiles at me, beckons me to sit on the sofa opposite the flames.

‘Son, we need to have a talk. About your future here.’

I sit, nod, and point upwards. ‘That bottle of semen,’ I say. ‘You didn’t use it. It was just in a bin.’

The old man steeples his hands, smirking across at me. ‘Yes, you’re observant. As am I.’

‘What?’

‘This morning, boy. I saw what you attempted.’

I shudder. ‘You mean–’

‘Yes, after breakfast.’ He sniggers. ‘You wanted something for pudding, I take it?’

‘No, I mean–’

‘There’s no use hiding the truth, sonny. Honestly, at this point, it would be strange if you hadn’t developed an interest.’

I blush, and frown. ‘Fuck.’

Archaelaus smiles. ‘Sonny, would you believe I’m glad it was you who came through that portal?’

‘But why?’

He nods. ‘Because were it the sex-demon I’d hoped for, I’d never experience the satisfaction of true willingness.’

‘With an actual sex-demon?’

The old man nods. ‘My boy, they have needs, like we do. But it encompasses their whole beings. You and I must soothe our sexual urges, of course, but how we do so is a matter of desire. Can you imagine receiving a blowjob, but the giver is doing so purely to sate a need? It could be any cock, could be any man, could happily be replaced by a golem, a homunculus.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘That’d be shit. But how do I fit in?’

He lowers his eyes, aglow in warm fire, dark lust. ‘Because of desire. Desire is what you felt this morning, when you tried to taste my semen. That was desire. True, earnest, noble. And ever so pleasant, to be on the receptive end.’

My cheeks heat up, and I tremble on the spot. ‘It was…that was…I didn’t mean–’

‘Like I said, sonny, there’s no use hiding.’ He grins, showing yellowed teeth. ‘Do you know what gives me the most pleasure, of all things?’

I shake my head.

‘To have a youth, of your age, desire me carnally. Not for power, not to butter me up, but truly and purely, to enjoy the process,’ Archaelaus says. ‘There is something wonderful, in being so appreciated. It’s why I’ve been ejaculating on your face since that first incident. I see, each and every time, that you enjoy being marked by me. You do enjoy it, don’t you?’

Slowly, I nod. ‘Yes. Yeah. I shouldn’t…but I do.’

Archaelaus chuckles. ‘Oh, I’ll be the first to acknowledge the oddity of your interest in me, but you wouldn’t be the first.’ His eyes, cunning and wizened, flicker as they trace out my body. ‘Perhaps the first to have no ulterior motives, however. You’re not like any boy from my world, I must admit.’

I feel at once weirdly honoured, and naturally disturbed by his attentions. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’

‘You’re intelligent, for one thing. Clever, without much trying to be.’ Archaelaus smirks. ‘I appreciate your presence here, boyo. You’re welcome company.’

‘Uh, thank you?’

The smirk becomes a faint grin. ‘It must’ve been frustrating earlier,’ he says. ‘When you tried to taste such tempting produce.’

‘Archaelaus…’

‘I’ve been quite busy on that return spell today, sonny, or I’d have sought you out. But I do need some relief.’ He parts his feet, stretches his gait. The silken gown falls upon the unmistakeable shape of his ancient manhood. ‘Why don’t you do what you do so well, boy?’

Something is off, here, but I’m not sure what. And if he’s truthful, if he’s been working on the spell…

‘You didn’t use any of cum I gave you?’

Archaelaus nods. ‘I needed the image of it, not the quantity. I’m familiar, now, with the universal template encoded in your seed, boyo.’ He taps a slipper-clad foot. ‘Now please, sonny, help an old man out.’

Fine. What’s it matter? I’m just being cagey for nothing, I’m sure. The whole situation is weird, but him asking me to give him a titwank isn’t something out of the ordinary.

I go to Archaelaus and drop to my knees, per protocol. He widens his gait a little more, but we both stay dressed. The way he watches me suggests he wants something of a show, so I grin and bear it. The filthy old mage stares intently as I pull my robe up over my head, big unnatural breasts jiggling, feminine curves on this modified frame wobbling. I throw aside the garment, but he remains clothed.

‘Magic away your gown?’ I say.

Archaelaus shakes his head. ‘Unwrap me, boyo.’

I might’ve once been more rebellious, but that well seems to have dried up. Instead, my lusty brain conjures up word-pairings and meanings. Unwrap, like a present. Like a gift. Like Archaelaus is rewarding me here with the apparent luxury of opening his gown and revealing his ancient monster of a penis and those sagging hulks of testes.

The weird thing is that, as I reach for the gown’s cord where it forms a knot across his pot-belly, I am wanting to see what I already know is lurking beneath his robe. For the first time, I’m fully aware that I want to touch, smell, and see Archaelaus’s cock and balls.

I gingerly untie the knot and pull aside the folds of his gown, and the old wizard’s cock springs up towards me, half-erect already. A huge, broad, gnarled and crooked slab of man-meat, its mighty length beginning from a jungle of wispy grey pubes.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I instinctively meet his eyes. ‘You know, sonny, that spell is coming along much better than I thought. It won’t be too long before I can send you home.’

‘Really?’

Archaelaus nods. ‘Really.’ He gives my shoulder a squeeze with his hairy old hand. ‘If you wanted to taste me, boyo, perhaps it’d be best to make the most of our time together?’

‘Taste…you…Archaelaus…’

‘You did want to, sonny. I’m no fool. And you’re a bad liar.’

I blush, and confront that awful thought. To look upon his ancient manhood, to gaze upon those huge bloated hairy balls, and to consider that earlier this morning I so very nearly – and repeatedly – tasted this wizened old man’s reproductive payload.

This immense penis, now so familiar to me, when framed in the context of what Archaelaus is suggesting, becomes grotesque again. I look upon the man, liver-spotted, pot-bellied, and the interest, the curiosity, grows all the greater. A man of legend, an arch-mage, an old pervert. Hung, virile, assertive, commanding.

I shudder, but I salivate. God, it’s so dirty, so arousing.

‘I…I did.’

The old man lifts his hand to my face, and cups my chin with rough furry fingers. ‘Sonny, there’s no need to be so coy about it. Many, across my time, have wanted to taste my lineage, for one reason or another,’ Archaelaus says, smirking thinly. ‘But I cast a spell upon my seed for good reason, boyo. A vintage of the quality I produce should only land upon deserving tongues. Doesn’t that seem fair?’

As mad as it is, I must be too far gone. The curiosity is too potent.

‘What…what would make me deserving?’

Archaelaus rubs his thumb against my chin. ‘Fellate me,’ he says. ‘Suck my penis for so long as it takes, sonny, and I will reward you for your efforts. I will allow you to taste my sperm.’

My heart shudders against my ribs, and my head spins. This is filthy, this is so wrong. I’m not gay, I’m not into men. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want this weird male-female body, I don’t want any of this.

But…but I behold Archaelaus’s enormous, ugly, aged manhood, and I realise that I am, despite all reason, considering this.

Would it be the worst thing in the world?

It’s not like I plan to be here forever. And it’s not like anybody back home will know.

And…and as much as the man is gruesome, I am stricken by this curiosity.

‘You…you shoot too much.’ I blush, aghast at my words, aghast at their implication. That, solved, I might just–

‘That is manageable. I will have to ejaculate the full quantity, but I am the most powerful magician, my boy. It is no matter to shrink the individual spurts, to spread the timings, to give you space to adapt…and time to savour me.’

Savour him. Savour ancient old-man cum. The thought of it, the image of looking up at the old man, with my mouth around his cock, while his liver-spotted old body shoots out that most carnal and primal of substances upon my tongue, is terrible and tantalising. God, he’s so old. He’s so ancient.

Why does the age seem so…arousing?

‘Two-hundred-and-ninety-three,’ I say.

He nods. ‘Yes. Very, very old. Very old, very powerful, and very virile. Hundreds of millions of sperm in every teaspoonful, and you know I produce far more than that. By the time you go to sleep, your belly will be digesting trillions of my potential heirs.’ The smirk widens to a grin. ‘We both know how filthy the thought is, but your eyes are honest about how it excites you, sonny.’

‘It…does.’ I reach forwards, fingers hesitating before his gnarled old manhood. ‘Is this a spell? A hex?’

Archaelaus shakes his head. ‘No, son. I like to think it’s quite a natural progression of things. Oral sex is the most intimate form of service. The most unmistakeably submissive manner by which you can meet my sexual needs.’

‘All the more so if the aim is to taste your load,’ I say, surprised at my honesty of thought.

The old mage, grinning around yellowing teeth, nods. ‘Such a dirty mind on you, boyo. But yes, and do you know something? If you enjoyed me marking you as much as I’ve done lately, you’re going to love receiving my seed on your tongue.’

This is pure filth. This should be so outside of my comfort zone.

I came here, to Archaelaus’s tower, as a straight man. He changed my body, gave me tits, to fuck them. He gave me a bigger bum and fucked my arse, came inside me. He slowly began to dominate me, and then I had to go and give him service, by using these ungainly things on my chest to wank him off. And then he came on my face, marked me like I’m his woman, and…

…and now I’m considering giving him a blowjob. No. Not just a blowjob.

I’m considering sucking his dick, pleasuring him in his favourite chair, and fully intending to taste his ejaculate. To taste the semen of a two-hundred-and-ninety-three-year-old, liver-spotted, pot-bellied, ear-and-nose-hair-sprouting mage. A male mage. A man. A dirty old man, if not the dirtiest. If not the oldest, besides.

‘You do want this, sonny,’ Archaelaus says, breaking my train of thoughts. He moves that hand and rests it firmly atop my head, giving me a paternal pat. ‘You have dirty thoughts, as many do, and you have the golden opportunity to test them out. To see if the fantasy matches up with reality.’

I tremble, because he’s right. Because as much as I’m scared, I can’t fault that reasoning.

‘What if I hate it?’

‘Then we’ll have learned that, won’t we?’ Archaelaus shifts his mean old mouth, nose-hair bristling. ‘Your concern is more that you will enjoy it, I believe. Once you experience the oral pleasure of tending to my stave, and tasting the virile produce of my orbs, you’re concerned that things will be awkward between us.’ The old man chuckles warmly. ‘Sonny, if needs be, I’ll happily work on the return spell while you tend to me beneath my desk, day in, day out. Honestly, that would be my preferred outcome. I do so love being appreciated.’

I shiver, but nod. ‘The idea of enjoying it seems grotesque,’ I say. ‘It seems so…so tantalising a concept, but it’s so…it’s so awful.’

‘Is it?’ Archaelaus shrugs. ‘Seems to me you enjoy the attentions of the greatest magician in history, sonny. Over the course of your stay, you’ve come to want to appreciate me, to think me deserving of your appreciation. Is that untrue?’

I struggle to look at him. ‘There’s…there’s something about you, yes.’

‘And, as a man yourself, you must know that the best way to appreciate me will be to suck my penis, to receive my blessing – in the form of my seed – upon your tongue.’

He’s right, isn’t he? How better to show a man appreciation, to show him that you accept him and desire him, than to service his penis and eagerly receive what it produces?

‘What…how should I begin?’

‘Good question,’ Archaelaus says. He smirks at me. ‘If your aim is to taste my lineage, boyo, then perhaps you should give some love to the two places that produce it.’

‘You mean…’

He nods. ‘Suck on my testicles, sonny. Help me work up a big load.’

My eyes leave his, dropping down his aged form to settle on that show of ancient genitals.

Archaelaus’s penis is flaccid, huge despite its softness. It sits amid a forest of grey curling pubes, all silvery and wiry, and beneath it hangs those two intimidatingly bulky nuts. Am I really going to do this? Do I really want this?

I…

…nobody is ever going to know but us.

I swallow my nerves and reach out, taking his member in hand. Lifting it, I give him a quick blushing glance and then lower my head, without another word, into the musk of his sagging bollocks. Two fat oranges, two billiard-balls, two productive old testicles. The stink here twitches my nostrils, the hairs tickle, but I bury my face between his big warm balls all the same, motorboating them as he once did my unnatural breasts.

‘Ugh. That’s it. Appreciate me, boy.’

‘Mhm. I do.’

I manage, somehow, to suck his left hanger into my mouth. It’s lumpy, uneven, fat and firm, quite salty, hairy. The wrinkles tickle my tongue, the strange texture of the testicle within the sack only exaggerating them, with its lumps and bumps. Archaelaus’s left testicle, inside my mouth. I glance up past his erection, holding it with one hand, blushing as I nurse on his left nut, a greedy boy with a carnal gobstopper.

His nose hair, his ear hair, his crooked nose, his snarl mouth, his yellowing teeth. I shiver at the contradiction. He’s wholly unattractive, wholly ancient and repulsive, and yet…looking up at him, I’m struck by desire, by lust.

I…I’m going to taste this old man’s semen.

‘Schlup. Mhm.’

Archaelaus looks down at me with smug interest as I suckle on his left bollock. The thing in my mouth is large, straining my lips. I can barely move it, my tongue doing most of the work as I suck in my cheeks about the furry wrinkly skin that holds the plump testicle of the ancient mage. Beyond the saltiness of his aged skin there’s something else, some ineffable flavour. It tickles my tastebuds.

His nostrils flare, and his mouth firms-up with pleasure. ‘Good. Very good. A little clumsy, yes, but you have a natural talent. How is it to suck on my balls, sonny?’

There’s a wet sound as I let his bulky hanger slip from my lips, and I give it a quick kiss. ‘I like how you taste,’ I say, lapping at the wrinkles, spreading spit across his drooping nut. ‘And how you smell.’ I sniff, a little loudly. ‘Rich. Powerful. Musky.’

He plays with my hair. ‘Get back to nursing on them, boyo. Do your best to pleasure me.’

‘Yes, uh, sir.’

I only realise what I’ve said when his right testicle is firmly in my mouth, being bathed in spit and massaged by my excited tongue. Archaelaus is smirking. I called him sir. It just slipped out, just came out of my mouth before his right bollock slid in. I blush hard, and look away, but this captive angle limits my options.

‘There’s no shame, sonny,’ Archaelaus says warmly. ‘I’m older than you, wiser. Ugh. The authority lies with me. Call me sir. Please us both.’

Sheepishly, I meet his eyes again. Archaelaus. Sir. Jesus Christ.

‘Mhm. Slurp.’

He pats my head. ‘That’s it, son. Suckle. Suckle on those heavy old testicles.’

My face is red and my head is spinning, racing with naughtiness and shame and excitement. I make sloppy noises, wet sounds, as I go between tongue-massaging the heaving nuts and kissing the sack that holds them, tracing my taste-buds along the wrinkles and fur of Archaelaus’s now saliva-slick scrotum.

The old mage, my apparent superior, pats my head and teases my hair. He groans, trembles slightly, and takes his cock from my hands. ‘All attention down there, sonny,’ Archaelaus says. ‘Worship my balls, boy. That’s where pleasuring me properly begins.’

‘Mhm. Mumph.’ I smooch, and snuggle my face into his loins. ‘Yesh, sir.’

Archaelaus chuckles paternally. ‘Such a good boy, sonny. I love how natural you calling me that sounds, coming from your slutty young mouth.’

His praise hits me oddly. I really do like it when he’s happy, don’t I? Like some submissive loser, servicing the venerable old mage provokes some ripple of internal pleasure through me, as though this is my purpose, as though tending to him is something profoundly right and natural.

The old mage’s cock is growing firm in my hand above, becoming weighty in my grip. It throbs faintly, its knobbly shaft irregular and interesting against my skin. My instinct is to look up, to inch myself backwards slightly – balls still, saggy as they are, well within reach of my mouth – and to find his powerfully possessive gaze. He watches me with pride, as if he owns me, as if I’m his property. And in the heat of this, in this moment, I feel like it.

I’m struck, looking up at him, aged and wizened and conventionally unappealing as he is, with a powerful instinct. The mixture of the salty sweat in my mouth, the musty old-man tang in my nostrils, and that potent low-level ineffable flavour that now I’m certain must be something hormonal, like testosterone, provokes an agreement in my dirty head.

I want to suck his cock ever so badly. I want to taste it, to feel it in my mouth. I can’t believe it, but…I want to taste what comes out, as well.

Archaelaus, as if reading my thoughts, smirks. ‘I think we’re both ready to move on to the main event. Aren’t we, sonny?’

I let slip his testicle, and nod with stupid eagerness. ‘Yes, sir. Please let me start.’

‘Please let you start?’ He sniggers, meanly. ‘Start what, sonny?’

‘Please…let me start sucking your cock.’

Archaelaus takes hold of his dick, brushing away my hand. ‘Sit upright, boyo. Let me get a good look at you.’

Archaelaus gestures and I follow the motion, sitting up taller on my calves. I must look a shadow of myself, kneeling here in the firelight, between the widely-parted knees of the rickety old mage. Feminised, with bouncy girly tits, and a fat bum. All because the old man wanted to have his dirty way with me.

As shameful as this is, as it should be, I‘m caught up in a mad appreciation for the turn of events.

The fat, gnarled, slightly crooked penis stands upright before me, held in one of the Archaelaus’s hands. He releases it and it bounces, wobbles, springing up to jut towards my face.  Large and crooked, lumpy and ancient. Fifteen-inches of old man connecting to a potent reproductive system, a larder of two-hundred-and-ninety-three-year-old sperm. The sight has me lick my lips.

‘You’re a good boy, sonny,’ Archaelaus says. He pats my head. ‘I think it’s about time that you learned to please me in the manner I most prefer.’

I nod. ‘O-kay, sir.’

‘Take me in hand, sonny,’ Archaelaus says. ‘Take hold of my penis.’

I reach out to him with both hands, nervous but excited. Excited, despite being so very much aware of how I’d never have dreamt of this before I came her. And that any dream that did contain something like this would surely be a nightmare.

But right now, all I want is to wrap my lips around the old man’s member.

My fingers find it hot, firm, rigid. Archaelaus has a lumpy cock, a gnarled old stave that has a slight bend and bulge to it. It pulses, straining against my hands, angrily, needily. I can’t help but lick my lips, smelling him. Old-man must, masculine musk, potent headiness. I swallow saliva, tug gently on him, pulling back his foreskin.

‘It’s…it’s so big.’

‘All the better, sonny.’ Archaelaus tussles my hair. ‘I see that glint in your eyes, boyo. There’s no need to be shy anymore.’

‘Yes, sir…I’ll…I won’t hesitate.’

My hands continue, and his helmet pops forth. Back roll the folds, the ruby knob atop his wizened staff aglow in the firelight, glazed and gruesomely appetising. A big bulbous lollipop. A lollipop of the dirtiest kind…and it’s all for me.

‘Can’t take your eyes off it. Always, you love seeing it.’

‘It’s amazing.’ I move closer, sniffing, sucking his potent musk into my head. Salty, bitter, old-man agedness. ‘So…powerful.’

The word slips out, and I blush. Archaelaus smirks at me. ‘Taste me, boy. Taste my penis for the first time.’

There’s no going back. No stopping. I lean forwards until the heat of his bell-end warms my lips, until the wetness glazes them, until I’m kissing it. Kissing this thing, this penis-tip, this ancient mage’s most sensitive part. I wanted this, I wanted to kiss it. It needs it, it needs worshipping. Smooch, smooch, smooch.

‘Such passion,’ the old man says. ‘You want this like nothing else, boy.’

I run out my tongue, rolling it across the underside of his ruby apple, across his frenulum, the cleft at the base. ‘Yeah,’ I say, breathily. My lips taste salty, bitter, musty. His glaze is much the same, upon my tongue. ‘Schlup. Schlup. Mhm.’ I smile, blush. ‘Your…it’s…’

Archaelaus puts a hand on my head, paternal, commanding. ‘Oh, sonny. I know. Show me how good it tastes. Actions are better than words.’

‘Mhm. Schlup. Mhm. Schlup. Schlup.’

I’m dirty, I’m vile, I’m such a filthy slut. My tongue goes crazy, tracing out that helmet, at long last here before me, hot beside my face, sloppy against my lips. Lap, lick, lap, lick. So smooth, so bulky, so fat. Neat, perfect, where his shaft is crooked, lumpy, liver-spotted, ancient. God, I’m a natural slut. I want to…want to serve this man, this ancient devilish man.

‘So good,’ I say, mumbling. ‘So tasty. Schlup. Mhm.’

He tussles my hair. ‘Good boy. Such a good boy. Humph.’

I marvel at his penis as I grace it with kisses and licks, smooches and flicks of the tongue.

Its tip is so bloated and big, silky and curved, a plump red helmet atop a wizened pole. A glistening trickle of precum oozes down the cleft below it, crossing the fibrous frenulum, glazing the rolls of foreskin. His member trembles, throbs, twitches with need.

‘You really do appreciate me,’ Archaelaus says. ‘You want me so badly, sonny.’

‘Mhm. Schlup. Smooch. I do, sir. I…had my doubts, but…I do.’

He smiles mischievously. ‘Are you sure? You came here so certain you hated this, hated me. This is quite the change in approach, sonny.’

I blush as I meet his gaze. ‘I’m s-ure, sir.’

‘Then tell me, boyo, just what it is you want from me.’

His grin, his desire to see me speak such filthy things, is more than enough.

‘I want to suck your cock, sir…and I want…I want to taste your semen. I…I want you to ejaculate in my mouth.’ I lick my lips, tasting his musty old dick. ‘I…want to taste the lineage of this world’s most powerful mage.’

‘How old are you, sonny?’

‘T-wenty.’

Archaelaus nods, grin widening, yellowing teeth on full show. ‘I was two-hundred-and-seventy-three when you were born, boy. Doesn’t that disgust you?’

‘It…it should, but…’

He slides his hand behind my head, offering a gentle guidance. ‘Open your mouth, sonny. It’d be my pleasure to feed you my seed.’

I meet his eyes, trembling, a little fearful. But Archaelaus urges me with his hand behind my head, gentle and fatherly. My lips kiss upon his swollen bell-end again, feeling the silky gooey texture, tasting faintly the musty aged salty-bitter tang of his precum.

Then I let him guide me forwards, and part my lips as I go.

God, it’s hot. Hot in heat, hot in sexiness. Archaelaus has such a fat dick, with such a huge bloated tip. It strains my lips, with a bit of effort comes to rest heavily on my tongue, where it throbs, and dribbles pre-ejaculate. He tastes good. I like his old-man taste. I hold him steady with both hands, and suck in my cheeks upon his bell-end.

Damn, it feels so right, so natural. ‘Mhm. Slurp.’ I roll about my tongue, feeling out the broad contours of his ruby mushroom, blushing all the while. His ancient liver-spotted body responds by dispensing more lubricant, more precum musty gooiness. ‘Mhm-hm. Slurp. Slurp.’

‘Yes, that’s it. Ughn.’ He watches me, eyes following my movements, my face. Archaelaus strokes the back of my head. ‘Feel it out. Experience it. It’s a man’s penis, boy, my penis.’ He snarls, grins. ‘Ugh. A penis, in your mouth, young man. A two-hundred-and-ninety-three-year-old penis. Oof.’

The age, the way he speaks thing, and his watchful gaze spur me on. I do as I understand to, sucking, licking inside my mouth, bobbing my head beyond it. ‘Mumph. Mumph. Mumph.’ His hefty glans glides back and forth, glazing my tastebuds with ancient precum. Salty, bitter, sharp with years. ‘Schlup. Mumph. Mhm. Mumph.’ I feel out the lumps of his cock, the bulging veins, tease the liver-spots with my fingers. ‘Mumph. Mumph. Mumph.’

‘Let’s make this a little interesting, boyo.’

Archaelaus’s eyes glow suddenly, becoming alight with azure magic. A vision manifests, a kind of circle rimmed in that same colour of light, a projection. The inside of a mouth, from the back of the throat looking out across the tongue and towards…towards the very large, very fat glans of a truly monstrous old penis.

I freeze up, and realise what I’m seeing. Holy shit. The sight has me tremble.

Archaelaus pats my head. ‘Isn’t that better, son? To see what you’re doing?’

I run my tongue, gingerly, up the front of his glans. Up the eyelet at the front, where a thin drizzle of precum oozes forth. Archaelaus, above me, makes an O with his snarl mouth. Woah. I can’t believe this is happening. Not just that I’m blowing him, but…I’m watching it.

Watching with front row seats.

I suck in my cheeks, start to bob my head. The mammoth penis slides across my tongue, straining, twitching. It yields a drool of his old-man flavour, which causes me to lap at the underside of his dick, which causes Archaelaus to groan.

Back and forth it goes, in line with my head-bobbing. This huge, thickly-crested helmet, its sides brushing my teeth and its front becoming so large that it’s all I can see, and then coming back to rest against the front of my mouth, where I can watch my tongue massage it and trace out its contours, and be rewarded with more of his musty precum, is difficult to resist marvelling at.

‘Mumph. Mhm.’

‘Good boy.’ He pats my head again. ‘That trick never fails to impress.’ The old man smirks. ‘I like watching the show myself, from a different angle.’

I pull on his length, tug and masturbate him, bob my head. Something about watching it, about meeting his arcane gaze and grinning old face, makes the whole thing a lot more erotic. And that provokes lust, which spurs me on.

‘Mumph. Mhm. Mumph. Schlup.’

‘Humph. Oh, yes.’

‘Mumph. Mhm. Mumph.’

‘That’s it, sonny. Make me proud.’

‘Mumph. Slurp. Mumph. Mhm.’

Archaelaus sniggers. ‘My, you’re eager. I’ve–humph–never had a boy like you before.’

I wonder if I should be offended. Wonder if I should take it as praise. Does it matter?

My head bobs, his turgid cock slides deeper into my mouth and then slips back, and my hands work to massage his gnarled and knobbly pole. It becomes large and then smaller. It spits precum and my response, innate at this point, is to slurp the stuff up.

‘Mhm. Mumph.’

‘All this time we’d both have preferred this, wouldn’t we?’ Archaelaus says. ‘I appreciate your–humph–hesitancy before, boyo, but…the proof is in the pudding, isn’t it? You are, beneath your protests, a cocksucker.’

His words redden my cheeks further, make the sensation of his cock all the more powerful. I meet his eyes, smile around his cock, continue servicing him. Something about that filthy title has me hungrier for him. My efforts are noticeably more passionate, as if dirty talk stirs some sluttiness out of my spirit.

‘Mhm. Mumph. Mumph.’

‘I had–humph–wondered if it was even possible. Wondered what it would take, in the end.’ He winces, groans. ‘Something in the–ughn–food, perhaps. A spell of its own.’ Archaelaus meets my eyes, smug, dominant. ‘You did it all. Ugh. You…you came to desire my semen, of your own accord.’ He snarls, pleasure and displeasure at once. ‘You’re perfect, sonny. I’m ever so glad that demon sold me a fault spell.’

Perfect. A compliment, jilted.

Perfect because, to Archaelaus, I am an outlet for his lust. A depraved youth from another world, who has fallen to my knees for him. Literally. And the realisation reddens my cheeks further, makes my mind race with shameful arousal.

‘Mumph. Mumph. Mhm. Mumph.’

His ancient penis fills my mouth like nothing else. The heat of it, the potent flavours, the way his gnarled member strains and throbs, the way its huge proud tip dominates the insides of my mouth. To watch it, that plum-purple prominence, with its big productive eyelet at the fore, as it slides back and forth, back and forth, only adds to the devious excitement and pleasure.

I can’t believe I’m doing it. Can’t believe it’s him. Old and liver-spotted and hairy and venal.

But Archaelaus has woken something in me. Something I didn’t know existed.

‘Mhm. Mumph. Mumph. Schlup.’

‘Such good care you take, sonny,’ Archaelaus says, trembling. ‘I’m glad you like it, boyo. Glad you like me, despite your–humph–initial misgivings.’

He strokes my hair, running his furry old fingers behind my head. Even something so simple as that gesture elicits a fuzziness in me, a warmth. I…I like him touching me, while I do this degrading and depraved deed.

I slide his helmet to the front of my mouth and nurse on it with lusty passion, taking some grave pleasure in watching that monumental cockhead bask in the lascivious lashes of my eager tongue. Archaelaus produces a heavy rivulet of pre-seed, refreshing the potent salty-bitter-oiliness on my tastebuds.

‘Mhm. Slurp.’

I’m jealous, in the weirdest and most convoluted of ways.

I always wanted a blowjob like this, like the blowjob I’m giving the dirty old mage. This is bordering on worship, this sheer mad appreciation for his manhood, for his virility.

But at the same time…I’m happy that I’m doing it. Happy, and weirdly grateful, that I’ve this chance to perform oral service on this man old enough to be my ancestor. Archaelaus, provoker of such odd and terrible urges in me, has a mightily suckable penis.

There’s a wet pop as I break the tightness of my sealed lips, releasing his cock for a moment to kiss it, let it rest heavily upon my lips. ‘Misgivings, sir?’

Archaelaus nods. ‘Don’t think I don’t notice it. How you look at me.’ I smooch his pearly plum, and the old man shivers. ‘I disgust you. An old man, the oldest you’ve known. Yet here you are, working for a mouthful of my age and lineage.’ Archaelaus sniggers. ‘Put those fat boobies around my cock, sonny. Keep sucking the head. Won’t be long now.’

I do as he says, because I like that, too. I leave his balls alone and take up my big squishy tits, wrapping them around his shaft, provoking a groan from the old mage.

His manhood pulses and throbs, hot and powerful between the valley of my chest. I nervously meet Archaelaus’s gaze and blush, dimly aware of just how obedient and dutiful I’ve become. He looks unbearably smug, and yet it only serves to arouse me. The old mage, with that snarl-smirk, with those yellowing teeth and nose hair bristling, has introduced me to a world of perversions I’d never thought I’d partake of.

‘You did disgust me,’ I say, eyes running down his body, widening as they reach the base of his erection, ‘but…you’ve taught me about myself, sir.’

He snorts. ‘And what did I teach, boyo?’

My gaze reaches the helmet, sandwiched between my breasts. ‘That I’m a lot filthier than I ever imagined myself.’

When I start to work my tits, and suck his bell-end back into my mouth, the old man shivers.

His knees, to my sides, noticeably shudder. The fat glans on my tongue, trapped by my lips and the sucked-in tautness of my cheeks, trembles. I swallow, pre-emptive, knowing intimately how the male body works.

‘Mhm. Mumph. Mumph. Schlup.’

‘Humph. It’s not as if it’s even–ugh–a special one,’ he says, gritting his teeth. Knees widen, widen, shudder. His glans, upon my tongue, seems to swell a little more. ‘As if I’d give you the magic, as if you’d know it. You’re getting sperm, sonny. All you’re getting is my sperm.’ Archaelaus smirks. ‘But you want that, don’t you?’

I’m salivating even more. God, I’m disgusting.

‘Mumph. Mhm. Mumph. Mumph.’

‘It’s–humph–it’s not for you, young man. It’s intended for wombs, you know? Ughn.’ He wets his lips, winces. ‘It’s found many. Produced countless children. Oof. It’s for making a legacy…not for young men’s mouths.’ The old mage’s fingers flex out, retract. ‘You don’t–ughn–don’t even want to swallow it, as such, you filthy bitch. You want to taste it, to taste the most powerful magician in the world.

‘You wonder…wonder what it’s like,’ Archaelaus says. ‘Two-hundred-and-ninety-three-years-old, I am. The greatest magician. Ughn. What…what does that do to a man’s semen?’

A shiver runs down him, ceases the flow of his precum, causes his legs to flex out below the knee, to widen his gait and send a tremor through his thighs. His glans throbs, becomes thicker and fatter than ever, straining my lips. Archaelaus tussles my hair, and I shiver.

Every word he says is true.

He grimaces. ‘F-latten your t-ongue, sonny. You’re about to–humph–find out.’

It’s all led to this. Good or bad, right or wrong. I bring his glans to the front of my mouth and slip my tongue beneath it. Archaelaus’s eyes are hazy with magic, but I’m sure he’s looking at me, and I am certainly staring up at the ancient man’s face.

The slit on the head of his penis trembles, a shot of something bursting forth. Thick and off-white it erupts, a magnificently potent thickness, opaque with sperm. When it lands on the tongue in the vision, it lands on my tongue in my mouth, and Archaelaus smiles with strange, lusty calmness.

My tongue is heavy with it, coated in such thickness. It’s hot, alien, weighty. A second spurt comes, larger than the first, making the base of my mouth, the inset of my tongue, a thick pool of his semen.

‘Good boy,’ the old mage says. ‘You’ve earned it. Earned this–humph–right.’

More comes, a third spurt, leaking over my teeth, parted to accommodate his largeness between my lips. Off-white semen drools from the swollen glans, adding a dribble to a tablespoon of cum. Something shifts, revealing an endless number of plump sperm swimming about like tadpoles, clogging every millimetre of the thick whiteness. ‘Look at them all. Look at the seed I’ve shot so far, in just this first mouthful.’

I move my mouth, and the mouth moves. It’s salty, in the kind of faint sense, an edge of saltiness. There’s a slight bitterness, but more prominent is an aged mustiness, a hallmark of anything that has weathered years, as fresh as this load should be. I move my tongue, my tongue moves, making little impact on the engulfing pool of off-white. ‘Mhm.’

Creaminess, a rich creaminess. Tanginess, seemingly related to the agedness. Something about it is vaguely pungent, like mustard. Only on the edges, only faint, but noticeable. Mostly it tastes ancient, powerful, creamy. Archaelaus’s semen, his sperm. It’s undeniable, inescapable, what I’m doing, what I’m experiencing. I’m on my knees between his legs, receiving his essence, his legacy, his lineage.

‘The sooner you swallow, the sooner you get more. There’s a lot to go, as you know by now, sonny.’

I meet his eyes and chew on it, swirling around what he’s given me. My eyes are wet and wide, with fear and worry, with excitement, hesitation. It’s clear, by the movements of my mouth, the movements of my tongue, that my body matches with my head: this is the hottest thing I’ve ever done, the most naturally submissive thing I’ve ever done, the most perverted thing I’ve ever done. It’s grotesque, it’s shameful, but…God, it feels right to be doing this.

There are lumps, knots, ropes, and every time I bite through one, chew on one, tangle one about my tongue, writhing as it is in a pool of the ancient mage’s semen, I shiver. My second picture, the blue-rimmed vision, tells me that those are where his sperm are thickest, so congealed that they become tangled, chewy. God, it’s all so ropey, so chewy. I’m chewing through two-hundred-and-ninety-three-year-old semen, Archaelaus’s lineage. He’s so gruesome and yet something about it is so…this is so…

‘You’re savouring me, boy,’ Archaelaus says. ‘Savouring my seed.’ He wets his lips. ‘Look at them all. Ugh. Look at how much of me you’re tasting.’

‘Mhm-hm.’

‘That’s it boy. Accept it. Receive it. Humph.’

So creamy, so rich, so warm, so heavy. It’s repulsive to think it, but I could taste this for hours. There are better flavours, better textures by far, but something about it feels so fulfilling. That same sensation of having his genes squirted on my face, only more intimate, more profound. A filthy, rotten, poison-minded eroticism, a slave-lust, but I’ve never experienced anything like it before. I want to feel him unload again, to have that fresh sensation of being dirtied, tongue splattered, mouth filled.

I shut my eyes and the swallow comes, the churn of all that off-white drawn down by muscular contractions, all those billions of sperm shifting in the current of my motion.

Archaelaus’s semen, the first gulp of the first mouthful, slides into my stomach, admixed with saliva, and sinks into the acid. The death, of what would be life. I’m digesting, now, digesting the old mage’s reproductive produce. Swallow, swallow, swallow. It takes three goes to empty my mouth. The “camera” returns just as I flatten my tongue again, ready for more.

‘Humph.’ His glans produces, spits a fat creamy rope, a shotgun splatter of man-milk. ‘Seconds, sonny.’ He groans, loading my mouth further, baptising my tongue in his ancient swimmers. Three shots, four, widening my eyes as my tongue vanishes and my teeth disappear entirely beneath the off-white lake and its host of billions. ‘Humph.’ He tussles my hair. ‘So dutiful. Such a fine cocksucker.’

‘Mhm.’ I roll around the thick semen, gruesomely delicious old-man nut-butter. It’s definitely buttery, possessing that kind same of heaviness. Hot, fresh from his loins. Liver-spots, nose-hair, ear-hair, a crooked nose. He tastes like this, Archaelaus tastes like this. ‘Mhm.’

I meet his gaze, blush, shudder. The ancient man grins, snarl-mouthed, blue eyes aglow. ‘Semen in your mouth, semen in your belly.’ He sniggers. ‘My seed, my sperm. You’re a filthy slut, boy. So submissive. By Azarlia, I love it.’

A sliver of pink protrudes above the cream to the front of his glans, the tip of my tongue, gliding up and down, side to side, massaging him. The old mage shudders, cock wobbling in my mouth, stirring the lake of tadpoles about behind my lips. So musty, so tangy, so ancient and rich.

‘You like it, boyo. Humph. And you can have it as often as you like.’ My blush grows, and I tremble to look up at him. Archaelaus grins. ‘We’ve time yet, sonny. Time for you to–ugh–master the art of servicing me.’ He tussles my hair. ‘Swallow my pride, son. Accept my lineage.’

I want this, want more of this. I can’t pretend that this doesn’t arouse me and excite me, disgusting and awful as it is. Gulp, swallow, gulp, swallow, gulp. Five times, to clear my mouth. Another cutaway, another show of my stomach, being slowly filled with seed.

Archaelaus’s seed.

I expect an instant return from him, but the old mage smirks at me. ‘Work for it, sonny. Nurse on an old man’s penis, milk me with those big boobies.’

I watch my mouth instinctually lap and nurse on his swollen glans, push my hands eagerly upon my breasts. The fat, ugly, monstrous tip of his cock is there in my mind’s eye, there in my mouth, hot and slick against my tongue and tastebuds, tasty and salty and bitter. His shaft is mighty and throbbing between my tits, so huge that even my large breasts are unable to smother its entirety.

‘Ughn.’ Archaelaus grunts as his bell-end throbs, slit widening, a spray of thick off-white nut milk erupting forth, hot and fresh and riddled with sperm, shooting out onto my tongue. So hot, so heavy, so much of it, clinging to the roof, to my teeth, painting my maw white. ‘Oh, sonny, you’re so filthy. Humph.’

It’s so rich, so buttery, so musty, tangy, salty, aged. I know it’s sperm, I know it’s ancient, I know it’s from his body, but I can’t get enough. Splatter, sputter, squirt, splutter. Load my mouth, load my mouth, load my mouth. Grotesque, gruesome, but it comes all the same and I enjoy it all the same. God, I know it’s wrong, but…it feels so right.

‘How’s it feel, sonny?’ Archaelaus says, grunting, shuddering. His penis, jammed inside my mouth, flares and spits, flares and spits. Off-white, heavy, endless, a stream of tadpoles in old-man gravy. ‘Good, I bet. Humph.’ The underside of his helmet disappears, the sea of white wriggling sperm growing thicker and thicker as the eyelet dispenses more of his pride, rich and buttery and salty and musty, straight into my mouth. ‘I deserve this, boyo. No more wasting my precious seed, no sir!’ He cackles, pats my head. ‘Azarlia gave you to me, sonny. Taste it, feel it. You know it to be true.’

…what if he’s right?

‘Mhm.’

Archaelaus’s seed is in my mouth, in my belly. I meet his eyes, shimmering blue, and shiver at how content I am, how confused I am, how much I don’t hate this. Worse, really. How much I enjoy this. The grey-tufted old man, bald and wretched, hook-nosed and snarl-mouthed and yellow-toothed, with his pot belly and sagging skin and wrinkles and liver-spots, and that awful old body produced this substance, this hot and thick muck, deep inside of itself. In his prostate, in his balls, in all manner of glands.

I’d think there some trick, but…it really isn’t nice, in any sane measure. I’ve tasted my own semen and this stuff, Archaelaus’s stuff, isn’t impossibly far apart from it. Oh, it’s so much stronger, more voluminous, all that, but…this is clearly the taste of his semen.

I…I like the taste, the feel, the experience, of Archaelaus’s semen, don’t I?

I swallow again, a series of gulps, forcing the thick cream of his loins down into my belly, that arcane camera following the passage of his strong-swimming sperm into their final resting place, their new home. So strong is his seed that even now, after what – three mouthfuls? – that the first of it is only just starting to fade and die, digested in my gut.

As I gulp down his thick cock-milk, my stomach strains a little, feeling tight against my clothing. How much is a mouthful, after all? There must be what, a litre, a litre and a half, inside my gut? It’s insane, and really rather filling.

But as soon as my mouth is empty, as soon as I’m again, in my inner eye, seeing that terrible fat ugly glans, the head of the old man’s penis, sitting lonesome between lips and teeth, I’m eager to feel, again, the act of receiving his ejaculation. He’s so old and this is so gross and so wrong but I’m passionately lapping, nursing, suckling on his helmet, and massaging my big breasts upon his knobbly shaft, just as I know he wants, just as he asked before.

Moments pass and nothing comes. He’s as firm as ever, throbbing as before, even groaning, exhaling sharply, clearly in the throes of pleasure. When I look up at him, meet his gaze, Archaelaus is grinning.

‘You want it, sonny,’ he says. ‘Ugh.’ He grits his teeth. ‘You do, boyo. You wanted to suck my penis, wanted to taste my ancient load. Ughn.’ Archaelaus bares his yellowing teeth, thin lips peeled back. ‘I’m on the cusp, sonny. All you need to do is tell me what you want, and I’ll let you suck it out. Tell me what you want, boy. Do it!’

‘Cum,’ I say, instantly freeing my mouth. I smooch his wet, fat, purple glans. A smooch turns to a lick, a lap, tasting his aged precum. ‘Just do it. Shoot the rest of it.’

Archaelaus chuckles. ‘Look me dead in the eyes, boy.’ Shivering, blushing, cock straining, I obey him. ‘What do you want, sonny? What do you want me to do?’

He’s so dirty, so filthy, so eager to humiliate me. And I’m imaginative, and dirty, and eager to go along with it. I’m…I need to see this through. So I lick my lips, smile nervously up at him, blushing all the while, and say…

‘I want your sperm, Archaelaus.’ I kiss the tip of his swollen helmet, lick it. ‘Feed me them. Don’t hold back.’ Kiss, lap. ‘Feed me your sperm, Archaelaus, sir. Whatever you want me to call you, just…I want you to ejaculate in my mouth!’

He pats my head and I take that for a sign, an affirmation, so I wrap my dirtied lips around that tremendous fat crown and lap desperately at it, nurse on it, suckle and slobber, tasting his precum, salty and musky as it stains my tongue. I squeeze my breasts together with my arms and reach down to enthusiastically play with those big heavy testicles, such strange billiard-ball thing, so firm and dense.

‘Look at me, boy,’ Archaelaus says, so I do. Our eyes meet. ‘Sonny…I do believe I’m your master, from now on.’

‘Mhm. Schlup.’

‘Good boy. Good cocksucker. Humph.’

His cum-vein bulges, and the last of the release spills forth. Archaelaus grunts and strains as an eruption of thick white muck spills out and loads my mouth, drowning my tongue. His virility is thick and hot, fresh from those ancient sagging nuts, absolutely packed with the old mage’s strong-swimming sperm.

‘Take it, sonny. Take your master’s lineage.’

‘Mhm.’

There’s so much of him, so much of his flavour. I swill it around, watching with disturbing interest as more and more of my mouth becomes white, the pink of it disappearing beneath his thick musky ejaculate.

I savour it, chew on it, taste it. Aged semen, the mighty “lineage” of Archaelaus the Great, this man who brought me here and corrupted me into whatever I am now. Straight no more. Gay? Not exactly, but…it’s all confusing. It’s all strange.

He begins to soften between my breasts, within my lips. The ancient mage reclines into his chair before the fire, letting out one last groan. Archaelaus leaves my mouth thoroughly loaded, and when his member slips from my lips I have no intention of immediately swallowing his produce.

The old man pats my head, and smiles warmly at me. ‘You’re a good boy, sonny. I’ve not been tended to like this for a long, long while.’

His eyes lose their blue, and the vision of my mouth fades. All I can taste is the richness, the saltiness, the buttery musty tang of his male essence. So much of it, such a ridiculous amount, and yet more is coming to rest in my belly.

I swallow again, gulping down the last of his load, leaving my mouth musky with his scent, leaving my belly swimming with his slowly dying sperm, his genes digesting inside my gut. I’ve got him in me, got him suffusing me, got a mundane ancient load inside of me, no power offered, a mere act of pleasuring and relieving.

We’re left in this awkward contest of gazes, his winning out. Archaelaus has never looked so smug, so dominant. ‘Your master then, am I?’

I shudder. ‘I…until I go back.’

He sniggers. ‘This has turned out special, hasn’t it, boyo?’

Blushing, I nod. ‘I’ve…I’ve enjoyed my time here.’

‘A good thing you’ll be here a while yet then, isn’t it?’ The old mage winks. ‘Go to bed, son. I’ll find you when I need you.’

‘Y-es, master.’

I climb backwards, and scuffle onto my feet. In the glow of the fire, the ancient man looks resplendent in his relaxation, reclining into the great armchair. There is a proudness, a power, to the old bastard.

I’m struck in passing by how readily I’ll gaze between his legs, at those horrifically fat balls sagging over the lip of the seat, that slick penis with its ruby tip glistening laid between them. I shiver, aware of how much I’ve changed. How far I’ve fallen, to end up on my knees for this man, to submit to him.

To call him master, and feel some weird joy in using the word.

‘Boy,’ he calls after me, just as I reach the door. ‘Did I meet your expectations?’

Slowly, without looking back, I nod. ‘Yes, master. I…I have no regrets.’

He chuckles. ‘I don’t have to return you, you know?’

An insane and evil thought. No. Why would I stay? This is wrong, despite whatever pleasure there is to be found in it. He can be my master, but only for the moment. Only until I’m gone. And then I’ll never come back.

‘I have a home, master,’ I say. ‘I’ll go as soon as your spell is ready.’

‘You’re nobody, son. Nobody at all. Do you think they’ll even notice you’re gone?’

‘Of course they will. Of course.’

‘Really? Funny. You had no girlfriend, had no money, had no worth. You meet me, this ancient man, and you let him treat you the way I’ve treated you. Gods, you fell so easily.’

‘I…’

‘Is it really worth going back there, Mister Nobody?’

‘As opposed to what? Staying here, sucking an old man’s cock?’

‘As opposed to being the personal bitch of Archaelaus the Great, the world’s mightiest magician.’

‘You’re insane. Why would I choose that?’

I look back and find him smirking. ‘Because you love it, sonny. Because despite all those protests, I’ve opened your eyes. Haven’t I, boyo?’

He’s right. As much as I would never say that word, admit that truth, he’s right. I do…I do love it, don’t I? The psychological – and at times, physical – pleasure of serving this ancient and powerful man…it does something for me.

‘I want to go home, master.’

Archaelaus nods. ‘You will, in time. But that spell’s a lot of work, you know? And then, when you let me start ejaculating on your face’ – he licks his thin lips – ‘I…I couldn’t help but wonder.’

‘Wonder what?’

‘Well, you see, I’ve never met someone who wanted to suck my penis, to taste and swallow my sperm. To just do it, I mean. For it’s own sake, to please me, to experience me.’ Archaelaus adjusts himself, looking more venal than usual. ‘There’s…something about it is quite powerful, you understand? An affirmation of my greatness, all the fiercer for you being foreign to this place, for having no knowledge of me.’ The ancient mage smiles strangely. ‘To sit here, in my favourite chair…to enjoy your ministrations…to see now, my sperm digesting in your belly…I’ve never felt so proud.’

His cock distends, thickens, veins bulging. It lifts slowly, to the excitement in his thoughts, to the lust he feels. I find myself adhered to it, gazing upon it as it rises, powerful and ancient, gnarled and lumpy and wizened, up above his bloated testicles. The old wizard’s staff, capped with a swollen and sensitive ruby.

‘Never?’ I say.

He shakes his head. ‘Never, sonny. Not in three centuries.’

‘I can’t believe that.’

‘Oh? Would I have need of you, if it were so easy?’ Archaelaus shrugs. ‘There are those out there who will do it to one another, men and women both, out of love. But that is not here, between us. It can’t be, as love is for equals, and we are not.’ He grins, showing yellowing teeth between snarl lips. ‘What you did for me…it was an act of submission, an act of admittance.’

‘Admittance?’

‘Of my superiority, of our respective positions,’ he says. ‘An admittance that I am so superior, you desired to do something with no hope of reciprocity. To consume something with negligible nutritional value. Why else did you want to suck my penis, to receive my sperm?’

The blush is hot, heavy. ‘Because…because…’ He is, painfully, correct. ‘I wanted to taste you. Wanted to taste the greatest magician in the world. Wanted to taste…two-hundred-and-ninety-three-year-old seed. The sperm of Archaelaus.’

‘Has any other man earned that right?’

‘No…I’ve never even thought about it before.’

Archaelaus smirks. ‘You find me worthy.’

‘Worthy.’ I shiver. ‘It sounds dirty, saying it like that.’

‘It is, isn’t it? A dirty word. Worthy of dirtying your mouth, worthy of receiving pleasure without returning it in kind. Was it worth the shame?’

I nod before thinking. ‘I…I mean–’

‘How does it taste, sonny? My lineage?’

I find myself licking my lips. ‘Good…great, even. Ancient, rich, buttery, creamy.’ A vision, rimmed in blue, shows his fat nuts interiors, absolutely clogged with strong-swimming, healthy sperm, beyond dimensional laws and rules. I glance down at his sagging balls, feeling filthy. ‘Archaelaus…’

‘Would it be so bad, boy? To submit to me?’

I step backwards, avert my eyes. ‘F-inish the spell, master.’

And somehow, some way, I flee the room.