The Wizard Enslaver
3
Lord Chros kept his promise. Spending an enormous amount of money, he purchased Eria at the auction, and the first thing he had her do was give him a blowjob.
They were together alone in his coach. He was seated in the back; she was kneeling before him. The recently transformed property girl bent forward and gave her master’s organ a slow, lingering lick, silently smacking her lips after the movement. Naked and ivory-slick, her enormous new breasts brushed against his thighs. She gazed up at him from her knees. “Hmm, you have a delicious cock, master,” she said. “May your slave have some more?”
“Slut,” Lord Chros remarked, chuckling. He patted her on the head, like an animal. “You look good on your knees, Eria. How does it feel to finally be in your rightful place?”
“I love serving my master,” Eria said, calmly, serenely, meeting her owner’s eyes without the slightest show of discomfort. In fact, she felt none. “Your slave loves being on her knees before a man.”
The first statement was true. The new slave girl was indeed sexually hot and obedient, and she did find her owner’s cock to be delicious. The second statement, however, was a lie: beyond obedience and sexual desire, Eria really didn’t feel anything at all, and whether she served on her knees, her back, or her feet was completely irrelevant, so long as she served. Lowering her face, she pressed her enlarged and cushiony lips to the side of Chros’ leg, kissing her owner gently, expertly, with an experience and aptitude for the task she had never shown or known before. This awareness of how to perform expert oral sex just came to her, as she was doing it; it was a part of her transformation. She did not have to think about it. She thought of nothing. She led with her lips, hovering over the surface of Chros’ skin, kissing the sensitive flesh, his hairs standing on end. She switched sides slowly, deliberately, balancing the sensations she created. Chros began to gasp. His cock grew metal hard beneath her lips.
Eria rubbed her smooth, rubbery cheek against his organ, letting it slide lingeringly closer to her open mouth. She traced her chin against him, then lowered her face and with a delicate flip of her tongue drew the burgeoning precum of his awakening passion into her mouth.
She adjusted her stance and looked up at him for a bare moment, meeting his eyes with her empty ones. Then she went down on him. He took hold of her hair and drew her closer, though there was no need. Eria engulfed him entirely in her mouth. There was no hesitation, no half-measures, no need for breath, no gag reflex. She simply swallowed Chros, pushing forward until her lips met his groin. She squeezed her mouth and throat shut, putting pressure on his penis, and once more he groaned. Then, letting up on the force inside yet tightening her lips at the same time, she pulled back slightly, just enough to give her tongue the freedom to move.
She swirled her tongue over the ridges and veins of her owner’s cock. She drew back more, to allow for a short and polished touching of his urethra, plugging him for a mere second. She squeezed her throat simultaneously, preventing his instinctual need to release. As she performed this and subsequent maneuvers, Eria’s hands all the while massaged Chros’ thighs. She touched and stroked his testicles, letting the unnatural smoothness of her poreless hands loiter on his most sensitive areas. Men liked that.
Again, this was less an example of actual knowledge, more a visceral awareness of what men liked that came to the slave as the opportunity arose. No consciousness was involved.
Uncontrollably, Chros started to cum. Eria cupped his balls, pressing the base of her thumb against the middle of his sac. She licked and twisted her mouth around Chros, circling him, and she began to swallow, gulping soundlessly. The working of her throat provided an extra degree of gratifying sensation to the service she was performing.
She pushed forward, brushing his groin with her lips, then back and out, letting him spurt all over her. Eria’s tongue lapped the spilled cum. With her hand, she took Chros by the base of his organ.
She went back, swallowing the tip of his cock, and started milking him. The movements of her lips, her tongue, and her hands combined for greater effect. And when such grace was no longer required, for by this time Chros’ back was arching in his need; his hands were clamped down on Eria’s head such that he was actually using her to balance himself, to keep himself upright; and his cum was jetting forth from him, Eria sucked. She sucked him dry, driving forward and back as needed for his entire release. He came in her mouth. He came on her face. He came in her hair and onto her breasts. And after he was depleted, left breathing hard, almost faint from exertion, Eria continued to lick and clean him, like a cat licking up milk. “Your cum is so scrumptious, master,” she said after an interval. “Thank you.”
“God,” Chros said, weakly. “God. God.”
“Your slave loves the taste of cock, master,” Eria said, then rested her head upon her owner’s leg. The coach continued on its journey through the crowded streets of De.
Following her transformation, Eria’s first instinct had been to kneel before her Mistress. She had done so, and the woman-wizard Noalassa had come down from the podium to stand before her.
Eria’s next move had been to bend forward and gently kiss her Mistress’ feet, pressing her lips to each toe. She had not been instructed to do this. She had not thought to do this. There had been no calculation whatsoever in the decision; there had been, in fact, no decision. Eria had simply done it. Thought, memory, personality: the silent magic working inside her performed all.
“Stand, slave,” and she had done so. “Gentlemen and nobles,” Noalassa had said. “Would you care at this time to examine the merchandise you will be bidding on?”
They did. Eria had then watched expressionlessly, without judgment, as the men in the Senate seats each rose and tried to look as nonchalant as possible as he hurried over, Lord Chros among the first to reach the atrium. Eria had lifted her breasts - easy to do despite their enormity - they jutted before her completely without sag, like twin melons - and put her arms to her sides, hands loose, assuming through these seemingly casual actions the exact same pose her daughters were in standing to either side of her.
All three slaves stared ahead of them blankly.
The men had examined her. “Lady Eria Scarphn,” Eria heard one of them whisper. The former name meant nothing to the property girl, the sounds merely abstract vocalizations in the air. If commands were directed at her, Eria would respond; but she was incapable of actually minding the words, so to speak. Another man, bolder than the others, touched her naked thigh, then ran his hand over her buttock. Again, this meant very little to the new slave. There was heat and a desire to sexually serve; but she was neither offended by the man’s touch nor gratified by it. She simply accepted it, without reflection.
Lord Chros and the other men pawed at her. One of them - it might have been Chros - had felt up her breasts, running his fingers over her ample flesh. He pinched her nipples, lightly at first, as if seeking a response, then, when no response came, harder, with more vigor.
Eria responded to this with an ecstatic moan.
“Oooh, your touch feels so good, master,” she said. She had squirmed a little, then, and the men liked this so she continued to writhe and sigh under their manipulations, their stroking and their feeling. Her daughters, Dyno and Eida, with their own ring of lecherous admirers, had performed likewise.
Their moans, largely unnoticed by the men, were identical.
The “noble” men proved particularly interested in Eria’s increased breast size. “They’re so fucking huge!” one of them said. “A slut like her deserves tits like these,” another contended. “All women need tits this size.” One had stood directly in front of the new slave and unashamedly grabbed her bosom. Eria at once leaned back to give the man greater access, and again she had sighed convincingly. “Oooh, your touch feels so good, master.” Always, the same words. Her nipples were engorged, and they would remain so forever now. The man’s touch brought fluttering sensations of pleasure through the transformed noblewoman.
“Stop that!” Chros had said, grabbing the man. “She’s mine!”
“Not yet she isn’t!” There had almost been a fight, then, but the senatorial guards intervened. Behind them, the woman-wizard had grinned. She would achieve great profit that day.
The auction where that profit was made might have been anticlimactic to the old Eria Scarphn. The results were never in question. Although a few of the other men put in some dilatory bids, Lord Chros never permitted any real competition. The bidding for the twins was much more interesting. The question of whether they should be kept together or split up and sold individually never came up - they obviously had to be sold as a set. Eria observed the sale of her daughters apathetically; she eyed the single noble who grandly declared he wanted to harness her two girls up and use them as show ponies with as much interest as another might watch paint dry; she watched their final sale to a brothel consortium with an equal lack of thought or concern. That they would spend their days and nights fucking total strangers, a dozen or more a day, essentially forever, for the living toys that Dyno and Eida had become did not age as ordinary people did, had less impact on their mother than the stage did beneath her feet or the gas lamps providing her illumination.
She held the same lack of concern regarding her new master, Lord Chros. Eria did not love him. She did not hate him, either. She had no feelings for the formerly despised Lord Chros whatsoever.
Eria was obedient. She was hot and in constant need of sexual use. Yet these were general conditions, and completely non-specific. She would have felt them for anyone.
In most matters, she just didn’t care anymore, about anything. Couldn’t care.
The men did not know that, though, and their ignorance led to some faulty conclusions, which again would have been ironic to the property girls if they had held any notice of such things.
For instance, the noble crowd mistakenly kept thinking the slaves still meant anything to one another. Following their respective sales, the three were made to stand next to each other. A photographer was brought in with his large equipment box and noxious chemicals, and Eria, Eida, and Dyno’s images were captured together, with the mother situated in the middle, naturally.
Standing breast-to-breast with Dyno and Eida, Eria could easily have been mistaken for their younger sister. The difference was an illusion created by the utter uniformity of the twins. Prior to the transformations, the girls had been similar but still distinguishable. As living dolls, and under the subtle alterations of their Mistress, they were now all but impossible to tell apart. Somehow, this perfect similarity gave them the façade of maturity in comparison to their mother, herself likewise transformed.
The senate photographer took the picture. Later that week, it would appear in De’s daily periodical.
“Would you like to say goodbye to your mother, whores?” the brothel owner asked the twins, afterwards. “It’s likely the last time you’ll ever see each other.”
As one, the girls turned to one another. Their actions appeared perfectly choreographed, though they weren’t, like one girl moving beside a full-length mirror. Neither slave blinked. Then, again simultaneously, they turned to Eria.
“Goodbye, mother,” Dyno and Eida said, in chorus. It was as if they had spoken with one voice.
Eria felt nothing for the two property girls standing before her. The instrumentality that governed her body recognized that they were the product of her pre-transformed flesh. As a property girl, she retained access as needed to the memories of the former Lady Eria Scarphn; and upon her Mistress’ or her owner’s command she would be able to utilize those recollections; but there was no feeling involved in this, only information. Still, the magical stimulus inside her head was not without perception, nor even a degree of insight. The brothel owner wanted to humiliate Eria’s daughters; this humiliation would likewise probably be enjoyed by her new owner, and it would certainly give delight to Mistress Noalassa - with the wizard in the same room, the slave could still detect her divine presence inside her - and so it was her function to bring about that pleasure.
“Goodbye, daughters,” Eria said, in service of that pleasure. “I shall miss you.” It was a lie.
“We shall miss you, mother,” the twins chorused. Eria recognized that they would not. The instrumentalities that controlled them were not without perception either.
Chros was not a young man. But the constant presence of such a desirable love object such as Eria had become kneeling beside him during his journey home had, despite the recently received and appreciated blowjob, renewed his appetite.
Barely had the coach stopped and his servants opened the door was he out and dragging the new slave girl behind him by the wrist.
Eria’s new owner led her immediately into his bedroom. He started taking off his clothes, and Eria said, “Would master like his slave to undress him?” He stopped, surprised, and nodded. “Go ahead, slut,” he ordered her.
The property girl approached him from the front. She lingered for a moment to allow his eyes to take in all the sights of her recently transformed, and now thoroughly owned, body. His eyes swept over her giant tits, her narrow waist, her smooth and gleaming love cradle. Chros took in all this before returning to her face, the skin of the object of his obsession rendered now porcelain-fine, her lips likewise now turned red and round-shaped. Then, like a marionette on strings, Eria lifted her arms to him.
She slipped her hands into his jacket and lifted it, bending over provocatively as she laid the heavy cloth onto a nearby chair, buttocks flexing in the so doing, breasts dangling and within easy reach. Chros did not hesitate to lay hands on his property, rubbing her back and backside as she bent, then putting both hands to her waist as she stood before him again, slowly undoing the buttons of his silk shirt. Her skin, the property girl was aware, had the texture of silk - it was unnaturally smooth and perfect. With his shirt gone, the slave moved forward, pushing her master backwards until he sat on the edge of his bed.
Eria went to her knees.
Lowering her face, she kissed her owner’s shoe tops before removing them. The men of De - the nobles anyway - were sometimes in the habit of wearing hoses, for the warmth and the aesthetic value. Lord Chros was one of these men. Eria unfastened the latchings on her owner’s trouser cuffs, then, with the extra room this made available, slid her silky fine hands along the silky fine hosiery he wore underneath. “Oh, excellent,” he whispered and lay back on the bed.
Eria crawled over him, balancing her weight on the mattress. She undid his pants at the belt.
She slid his pants down around his knees, all the while keeping her face close to his skin, hovering over his groin. She breathed warmly on him, though she only rarely needed to breathe.
His erection was enormous. She pulled off his pants, then did the same with his hosiery. Her hands started with his feet and legs. The property girl and former noblewoman worked on her owner’s flesh, her fingers pressing and rubbing, loosening the muscles. The massage techniques she employed required no oil or lotion; her own skin was more than soft and downy enough to eliminate friction. This knowledge, again, was not originally hers - Lady Eria had never provided a man a massage before - it was purely a function of the new instrumentality that had replaced her mind.
Working upward, she made her owner groan with pleasure, kneading his flesh. At the same time, the slave girl slowly rose from the floor and settled herself onto the bed, straddling him. Chros’ eyes had been closed. He opened them now to gaze up at her, his gaze again taking in that enormous bust.
She brushed herself against him, and he moaned. Eria moved forward, positioning herself, then lowered her body onto his upright and throbbing cock.
She took him shallowly at first, clenching around the tip of his penis, in a sense masturbating him more than she was fucking him. He roared and grabbed at her, her movement and position designed to elicit this response. Again, no calculation. Just instinct. Lord Chros flipped the slave onto her back, fell upon Eria, and began fucking her in earnest.
“Ooh, master, your cock feels so good inside me,” she recited. The slave girl did feel pleasure at this penetration; but the words she spoke were meaningless, pure rote. “Thank you, master. Thank you for fucking your slut.” Mechanically, Eria adjusted her hips to better accept him. “I am your slave. Eria is your slave.” Lord Chros slammed into her, pushing his cock inside her cunt as far as he could go. Her pussy clamped around him.
She moaned, because that was the expected thing a slave-slut should do when fucked by her master.
Her hips made semi-circular motions of pleasure. Her legs closed around Chros’ waist. Her balloon breasts with their perpetually engorged nipples pressed into his chest. She made sure that as she moved her nipples rubbed against him. This brought pleasure to the property girl, and in this way she was informed that she was bringing pleasure to him as well. That was the sole reason she still felt pleasure.
Her pussy tightened on his cock more. Her hands caressed his back and shoulders, continuing the massage from before. She kissed him with illusory passion. “Fuck your slave, master. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ooh, master. You are so manly. So powerful. Eria loves her master. I love you, master. Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”
“Slut,” he told her, pumping her. “Whore. Whore!”
“Yes, master,” Eria said, dutifully, a little monotonously. He didn’t, couldn’t, notice. “I am a whore. I am a slut. I am your slut. I am your slut, master. Your slut loves her master.”
She moaned again, on cue.
Soon enough, he came inside her, groaning his release. Her new owner made a lot of inarticulate sounds during intercourse. Eria had an orgasm herself. The pleasure was satisfactory, an indication that she had performed her duties well.
At length, Chros rolled off her, and Eria gracefully twisted about to put her face to her owner’s spent organ.
“Master, may your slave clean you with her mouth?”
“You love it, don’t you?”
“Yes, master. Your slave loves the taste of cock, master.” She licked and sucked him. The taste was delicious, and she labored several minutes to get every bit of their combined secretions off him.
“You are such a slave, Lady Scarphn. You make a good slave.” He laughed. “I always knew you would.”
“Yes, master,” she said, continuing her lowly task. “I am a slave. Thank you for purchasing me. Thank you for letting me suck your cock, master. Your cum is so scrumptious, master.” She licked him.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her rudely up by the hair. She didn’t mind. She didn’t mind anything.
He forced the slave girl to her back again, placing the back of her head against a pillow. He lay beside her, looking down at her. In turn, she looked up at him, unblinking.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, finally, softly, after spending a long while tracing her cheeks with his hand. “You should have married me. Now I own you. I own you, Eria Scarphn.”
“Yes, master. You own me. I am your slave.”
“You will have to obey every command I give you.”
“Yes, master. I will obey every command you give me.”
He clasped a balloonish tit. “I own this.” He reached down between her legs. “I own this, too.”
“Yes, master. You own all of me. I am totally yours, master.” She adjusted her position somewhat, brushing her thighs against his limp penis. Men liked that. She felt him twitch with life, a little life, anyway. She took hold of him gently, rubbing him, and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensation she was providing.
“Do you like this, master?” He nodded. “May I continue, master? You are not too tired, are you, master?”
He shook his head. He laid his head on the pillow beside her, and she rose, pushing him flat on the bed.
“Let your slave do all the work, master. It is your slave’s duty to please her master.” She lay partially atop him, rubbing and caressing, her fingers working on his flesh. He was already falling asleep.
That was good. Now that he was losing consciousness, it would be time to begin enslaving him.
The property girl kissed her owner’s male nipples. She stroked his arms and legs, his stomach and thighs, all the while never quite letting go of his penis. Contact was constant. With that hand, Eria rubbed delicately, precisely, feeling the male heat of him between her fingers. Her round mouth kissed all over. Her teeth nibbled. All of these actions were deliberately intended to provide a man post-sexual warmth and comfort, yet not to arouse him, merely to encourage a blissful sleep. Soon enough, he was snoring. The property girl moved slowly, putting her face next to his.
She kissed his forehead, his cheek. “Sleep,” she whispered in his ear. “Sleep, Lord Chros. Dream of slaves. Dream of fucking slaves.” She gently licked his ear. Never once did she let go of his cock.
“Dream of slaves. Your slave will be beside you when you wake. You will fuck your slave. You will need to fuck your slave. No other slave will do. Only Eria. Only this slave you have purchased this evening. Only this slave.”
Her voice was low, precise, penetrating. Eria rubbed his cock.
She perceived, without judgment or opinion, that he was accepting her Mistress’ commands. She could tell from the sleep expression on his face. Soon, he would be in her thrall, as all men who owned slave girls created by the Nycclethnim eventually fell into their thrall.
The women-wizards of the Order could not directly affect males with their magic. The Nycclethnim’s true magic only worked on females. Yet there was another magic available to them, one that had been used by women on men since the beginning of time.
A property girl was the perfect toy. The perfect sexual amusement. The impossible to resist addiction. It would take time, but eventually Lord Chros would be putty in her smooth hands. Lord Chros might have owned her. He was her master. But she was and would remain forever her Mistress.
The wizard-enslaver.
“You will invite your friends to fuck your slave. Your friends will want to see your strength. You are very strong. You are a strong and potent master. You can let your friends fuck Eria. Humiliate Eria. Letting your friends fuck your slave will humiliate her. Let them fuck her.”
“Fuck her,” Chros whispered in his sleep. A wicked grin appeared on his mouth.
“You are so strong, my master. Show your strength. Your friends must fuck Eria. As many as you can arrange. Powerful men. The most powerful men in De. You will let them all fuck your slave
“Strong,” Chros said, dreamily. “I am strong.”
Without knowing that that was exactly what she was going to do, Eria would fuck these powerful men, and when they slept beside her she would enslave them, too. Her Mistress was a far-sighted wizard.
And that was as it should be. She was a wizard-enslaver. The wizard-enslaver.
“You are so strong, Lord Chros,” Eria whispered. The words were not her words. She did not know from whence the words came. She did not care. Perhaps they were her Mistress’ words.
It did not matter. It was not something that she thought about. She could not think.
She was only a property girl.