Rise of the Guild Master

Opalina shrugs off her disappointment and magically cleans up her hands with her wand. Then, she aims the magical tool at herself, shooting off small blasts of flower-scented perfume on both hands and under her bare armpits for good measure. My gaze lingers at the little sweat she's worked up under her arms, which is odd considering I'm generally not into that...

"My, my. Where exactly do you think you're staring, Dear? How did I go wrong for you to end up as such a pitiful pervert?" She giggles once she notices me eying up her armpits.

"It's the sweat that's erotic, not the location." I cross my arms and look away, drawing more amused laughter from my mature lover.

Without asking for my consent, the old witch steps over to me and improves my scent with the same spell she used this morning. It's not like I sweated too much from just a single handjob, but walking around in Dawnstead's streets and then the castle has taken its toll. She then pulls a handkerchief out from that magic bra of hers for me to wipe the sweat from my brow.

Now that we're fully presentable, Opalina slides on her heels and opens up the door revealing Bertrand. He stands there filled with burning resentment and the all-encompassing desire to be anywhere else in the Realms besides here.

His eyes are half-closed, his cheeks are red, and his lips downtrodden into a pervasive frown. He looks even sweatier than I was a moment ago, but thank the Gods, I don't see any signs that he was getting off on listening to us. Even if part of me enjoys the exhibitionist play but won't admit to it, I don't think I could live with myself if this asshole got any indirect pleasure from my lover like that. Maybe I've just yet to fall off the deep end, though. Perhaps when my perversions continue to slide down the slope of depravity, I'll get off on 'showing off'.

"Goddess below," Bertrand spits with jealous venom, "it hasn't even been fifteen minutes yet, and I already need to send a fucking maid in, don't I? Lucky piece of shit..." But then, he remembers he's got a thinly veiled charade to keep up. "Er. I mean... if you wouldn't mind leaving the room while Miss Opalina chats with Sir Xothan, I'll send in someone to freshen up since I'm assuming the lady has no intention of cleaning up that massive pile of... fluid congregating several feet away from the bed?"

"Indeed. My magic is wasted on such trivial things." So says the witch who just used her wand as a deodorant. She's just like Zutiria and most other black magic types. She is hesitant to use her magic when it comes to mundane things that don't interest her, same as always.

"Perhaps you could try a mop?" I sarcastically suggest, which gets an uncharacteristically loud roar of laugher out of Opalina. As I thought, not going to happen.

"You know, you could clean it up too." Bertrand retorts in a tired, bratty tone. He's far from amused, which is music to my ears.

"Dreadfully sorry, but I feel the castle's library calling my name." I'm not sorry. What kind of vacation would it be if I had to clean up my own semen off the floor? The Chamberlain sighs, no doubt figuring I would say something like that. Oh well.

Opalina shuts the door on Bertrand after telling him, "I'll be down in a few moments. Run along now and make yourself useful somewhere else if you're capable of that much initiative."

Bertrand raises his hand and begins to speak but gives up once the door is closed in his face.

"Harsh," I click my tongue out of mock pity for the Chamberlain. "Even for you."

"Regrettably, he'll live." She laughs. Opalina removes a small sack and a fancy purple coat from her Bra of Holding to replace the one she lost during our flight. She hands me the bag and dons the coat, which magically contorts to fit her gratuitous curves and ample bosom.

"That's a Bag of Holding, Dear. Use it and Take whatever you want from Osbourne's library. I assure you that nothing will be missed, considering its sorry state of use. As it is, it's mostly used by the young Lady of the Castle and no one else." Once again, Opalina is talking like she were the person in charge around here. I'm starting to feel like that may actually be more and more the case, considering the lived-in state of her room and how often she comes here.

I remember Opalina taking a few long trips to Dawnstead during my childhood, especially during the plague some twenty years ago. Still, I never really figured she was doing anything but standard Doctor work. That Opalina was a close confidant of the province's Duke never crossed my mind. Now here she is telling me to just up and steal whatever I'd like from Duke's personal library.

Just to be sure, I ask her to clarify. Since I'm already going to be making an ass out of myself with Opalina and mine's loud, sexual activities, I'd prefer to avoid starting trouble elsewhere during my visit. "Really? I can just up and take whatever I want?"

"Well, I'm sure it would be appreciated if you kept it within reason." She gives me a teasing wink, which I take to mean I don't actually need to follow her advice.

"Within reason, got it," Depending on the library's quality, I'm unsure if I can actually force myself not to take too much. Nonetheless, I gratefully accept the magical tool that was gifted to me.

After opening it up and gazing into the pocket dimension within the small sack, the metaphysical logistics start confusing me the more I consider their implications. "You had a Bag of Holding inside your Bra of Holding, though? How does that work?"

She shrugs, and with a sigh, Opalina explains, "Best not to think about the physical limitations of hammerspace, Dear, it'll keep you up at night. If there's one thing I learned in all my studies, it's that for as much as Mages like treating magic as a stuffy science with rules and laws, there are times where we have no choice but to shrug the impossible off by admitting that on occasion, magic just does because magic just does."

I ponder her words, but after finishing her spiel, Opalina grabs me by my collar and pulls me in for a playful kiss. At first, I'm taken by surprise, but once the shock wears off, I kiss back even harder and even nibble her lip a bit to show the old gal that I don't intend to let her walk all over me during this vacation.

The pleasantly satisfied witch pulls away and licks her lips, her cheeks gone red as a blushing schoolgirl. "My, my. I knew you'd loosen up if I helped you get off a little, but you're just full of surprises. Aren't you, my love...?"

"I'm still not comfortable with what you want me to do, but I can't stop it from happening, either. Might as well embrace it." I shrug my shoulders in defeat, much to Opalina's near-perverse delight.

"Good boy," She says in that delicious, deep voice of hers. "Do you remember where the library is, or do you need an escort?"

"Yes. Bertrand is insufferable, but-" Bertrand coughs like a jackass on the other side of the door, revealing himself to still be within earshot. "Bertrand is incredibly insufferable-" I correct myself, "but his skills at giving a tour are second to none. The library is two floors down, past the hallway of gargoyles weeping bloody tears, then you just take a right at the Room of Unthinkable Possibilities, yes?"

Bertrand grumbles, which I take to be a yes, mixed with several expletives and a mocking impression of the often wordy and allegedly 'pretentious' way I talk. That just about does it, I think... I don't know how I'll do it yet, but I'm going to fuck with that man to the best of my abilities. I could punch him in the face, sure, but the more time I spend around him, the less that feels like it would do the trick.

Opalina sees the wheels of vengeance grinding in my mind and laughs softly to herself while strutting out of the room. She opens up the door and shakes her head while looking at me. "Play nice with the other boys, sweetheart." She teases.

I follow her out of the room and see Bertrand has already left the hall. "No promises." Feeling rather aggressive, perhaps due to my riled-up nature as a red-blooded male still pissed off over Bertrand, I move in for another kiss. Opalina doesn't see it coming but kisses me back with full cooperation and then some.

Unfortunately, as red-blooded males so often do, I failed to think of the consequences this kiss could have.

At a volume much louder than her polite indoor voice, Opalina takes a dramatic step backward, gasps like a damsel in distress, then clutches her hand over her breast as she practically yells, "Oh, my! I can't believe you kissed me so suddenly and violently! Truly, the man I've given my heart, body, and soul to can never be satisfied! And to think, I only just jerked you-"

I rush forward and cover her mouth with my hand, which in any other situation would feel kinky. Opalina giggles like mad beneath my impromptu gag. Meanwhile, I feel my face getting hotter by the second.

"Gods, you're behaving worse than Zutiria does whenever I take her out. Is wanting to publicly humiliate me just another thing with you Mages, like worshipping my balls or refusing to clean?" I sigh, removing the hand once she settles down.

"Sweetheart, I just can't help it," She places a finger to her puffy lower lip, creating a look of faux innocence on her face as she sways her wide hips side to side and step by step toward the raven-helmeted suit of armor. "I've told you how this place puts me in a dreadful mood. So it's only natural that I want to push all your adorable little buttons to distract myself, Dear, especially when it makes this old lady feel so young..."

"I'll be back as soon as I'm finished up, but don't be afraid to take some detours on your way back. You never know what you might find in a big old castle like this..." Opalina blows me a seductive kiss, then opens up the secret passageway. The witch leaves right then and there, taking my breath with her along for the ride.

What is it about a beautiful woman calling herself an 'old lady' that sets the hearts and loins of men on fire? I may never understand it, but the effect it has on me is profound. She sure is an astonishing woman, alright.

Gods, I need to keep her away from Snow...