The heavy wooden door to Varius’s tower closed behind Alfons with a resonant clank as he returned to the main house. For a moment he just stood, fingers clenched on the marble balustrade, and questioned every decision he’d ever made in the course of his magical education.
He was only startled out of his reverie by the voice of Sophie, the housekeeper, coming up from the foyer below. “Ah, there you are. Are you finished for the day, then? Come along and I’ll show you to your room.”
Alfons blinked and began to make his way toward the staircase on auto-pilot. As he did so however, the phallus inside him shifted, forcing him to stifle a groan. He bit his lip as icy cold paranoia dripped down the back of his neck. Did she know? Could she tell just from looking at him what had been done to him? Could he possibly hide it? He descended the stairs slowly, trying not to wince.
If the housekeeper suspected anything about Alfons’s state, she made no indication. Instead she smiled broadly at him. “It’s just around the corner here. We’ve placed your things in the room, and I’ve put a copy of the household’s schedule on your desk for you. Feel free to roam around and explore the house at your leisure, but I would ask that you respect any doors with nameplates on them, as those are our personal quarters.”
Alfons finally reached the bottom of the stairs where she was standing and followed her as she led the way through an archway and into the imposing wood-paneled hallway beyond. “There are five of us living here, four in the house itself. You’ll meet them all at dinner tonight, along with Maryanne, the chauffeur. She lives in the village nearby. Here we are!”
This last was said as she gestured to a door. As promised, it was very close to the foyer, only a short stair-climb away from Master Varius. ‘How convenient,’ Alfons thought bitterly as his own cock twinged inside him. He opened the door.
The room was quite nice, if a bit small. The walls were a pale, calming blue. The edges of the room held a bed, a desk, a sitting chair, and a bookshelf next to a small closet. There was also another door in the far corner that Alfons assumed led into a bathroom. His bags had already been dropped in a corner by the desk, although they had apparently left it to him to do his own unpacking.
“Thank you,” Alfons said to Sophie, desperate for her to leave.
“Dinner’s at seven,” she replied cheerfully, “so you still have a few hours to get settled in. I’ll leave you to it.” And with that she was gone. Alfons sighed in relief.
Although, left to his own devices, he wasn’t sure what to do next. His initial instinct was to curl up on the bed and try not to focus on the blissful heat and tightness of the penetration that was slowly wearing away at his sanity, but what good would that do? With nothing to keep his mind off of the sensation, Alfons knew he would only end up dwelling on it all the more. No, best to keep himself busy, try to put it out of mind.
There was a piece of paper on his desk. Looking it over, Alfons saw that it was the promised household schedule. It had a lot of basics that he hadn’t thought about but which were incredibly useful to know about a place where he would be living long-term: “Laundry day is every Sunday: please leave any clothes you wish to have washed in the hamper in your closet” and “there is a board of bread, cheese, cold meats, and fruit in the dining room each day that you may help yourself to for lunch and snacks, or you are welcome to any leftovers in the fridge if you are hungry” and “dinner is communal with the household staff, and takes place at 7 PM each evening” and so on.
Useful information, if he was staying. Alfons was less and less sure if he would be able to stand it. He put the paper down to explore the rest of the room.
The door that he had assumed was a bathroom was, in fact, a small magical workroom. The space was clean and mostly bare save for a rug and some cushions in the center. Along the wall there was also a chest which Alfons assumed would contain lubricant, sex toys, and other supplies. Alfons had used a room like this back at the university; it would be magically warded against fire, sound, and stains. A perfect place to practice.
“Don’t think you can get away with taking out whatever’s stuffed in your ass, just because you’re closed up in the workroom” came a voice from the doorway. “Varius’ll notice immediately, trust me.”
Alfons whirled around. A young man close to his own age stood leaning against the door, arms crossed and smirking at him. He was dark-skinned and obnoxiously handsome with his short, wind-swept hair, and he carried himself like he was well aware of it. He looked Alfons up and down with an appraising eye. “I’m Rowan,” he offered.
Alfons was embarrassed into silence, unsure how to respond to such a bold opening. The mortification he felt that this young man knew his secret was like a dark stain spreading through his body.
“I’m the junior cook,” Rowan offered after a moment when Alfons didn’t say anything. “I’m here to check on your dietary needs. Any allergies, preferences, that sort of thing.”
“No- no allergies,” Alfons stuttered out, his throat unexpectedly dry. He cleared it, trying to look anywhere but at Rowan’s face. “I don’t know about preferences... I guess I don’t really like anything really spicy? Other than that I’ll eat pretty much anything.”
“Oh?” said Rowan with a raised eyebrow. “Anything? Bull’s testicles? Sheep’s brain? Cow tongue?”
Alfons flushed again, feeling mocked by the young man’s tone. “I haven’t ever had anything like that, so I wouldn’t know,” he retorted acidly.
“Alright, alright,” said Rowan, his voice containing a hint of a smile. “Didn’t immediately dismiss it though, so that means you keep an open mind. I respect that. I’ll go tell Arnie. See you at dinner!” The smirk was back in his voice by the end; Alfons was not sorry to see him go. He firmly closed the door behind Rowan, then leaned his forehead against the wood grain.
‘One thing at a time,’ he thought. ‘Just get through dinner first.’
As promised, the entire household staff was there to meet Alfons for dinner, seated together with him and Varius. It was remarkably informal compared to what Alfons had expected. Period movies and TV shows had led him to expect that the servants would stay out of sight and eat separately, but he had to admit that he preferred this arrangement. His family had never been particularly wealthy, and the thought of having servants wait on him at all left him vaguely uncomfortable. He was happy to be on an equal footing with them as much as possible.
Varius sat at the head of the ornate, heavy dining table, with Alfons at the foot. On either side were the staff, who all introduced themselves to Alfons cheerfully. Besides Sophie and Rowan, whom he’d already met, there were four others. The promised Maryanne was a large and tough-looking white woman with close-cropped bleached hair. The hint of a tattoo peeked out from under the edge of her sleeve. Arnie, or Arnold, turned out to be the senior cook, a dour-looking fellow with beady, suspicious eyes, a shiny red face, and the girth of someone who cooked and ate for a living.
The remaining two were Dante, the bear-like red-haired groundskeeper and handyman who lived out in his own separate little cottage on the edge of the estate, and Jackson, a weedy-looking young man with large glasses who acted as Varius’s accountant and personal assistant, taking his phone calls and keeping his schedule.
No one else made the sort of lewd remark to him that Rowan had, but the encounter had nevertheless shaken Alfons. It left him with a creeping dread that everyone at the table knew all the gory details of the torment he was being subjected to. He found it difficult to eat, despite the extravagant welcome meal that Rowan and Arnold had prepared for them all. He kept fidgeting in his seat, feeling his own phallus shift inside him, trying desperately to hide any reaction. The staff that he was supposed to be getting to know kept asking him questions about himself, but he was so distracted that all his answers were short and curt, barely at the level of politeness, let alone friendliness.
Finally, halfway through the meal and having barely eaten anything, Alfons abruptly dropped his silverware onto his plate and pushed his chair back. “Sorry to be a downer,” he said, “but is it alright if I head back to my room? It’s been kind of a long day of traveling and I’m really ready to crash.”
Varius waved a hand in dismissal and Alfons was up and halfway out the door before the gesture was even finished. As he left he heard someone—maybe Varius himself?—murmur something, and the rest of the table respond with light chuckles. Was it about him? Were they laughing at him? Probably best not to speculate. Alfons hurried back to his room.
Alfons sank to his knees as soon as the door closed behind him. He had already finished unpacking, so there was nothing really left to do for the night. He was alone with the girth of the phallus splitting him open, the sensation of tightness around his cock. He clenched his fists and bucked his hips forward helplessly a few times. He felt like he was going to die, he was so overstimulated. Even through the muffling effect of the disconnection, his balls felt tight and full, ready to burst. He needed to come so very, very badly. He wasn’t sure how it was possible to be this hard for this long and not rupture something.
Enough. Enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. Varius had told him not to take his cock out of himself, but surely there was something else he could do to ease his suffering? He stumbled to his feet and towards the magical workroom.
A... numbing spell, maybe. It wasn’t something he’d ever learned specifically, but magic was very responsive to will and intention. You didn’t need a formal definition or procedure to cast a spell. And magic cast on one’s own body tended to be easier than anything that had to exist outside of it or, even more difficult, persist after the caster had left.
Alfons shucked his clothes helplessly and dropped once again to his knees on the floor cushions of the workroom. He reached under and behind himself as far as he could to lay his hands on his own ass over the point of penetration. He could feel his fingers shaking. ‘Numbness,’ he thought, trying to focus. ‘Dull the sensation.’
For a moment it worked, and the tortuous sensation of stimulation faded blissfully from his awareness. But then the power stuttered and melted away like droplets of water on an oiled surface. It was like having his cock stuffed into him all over again. Alfons whimpered and tried again, with similar results. He just couldn’t hold on to the magic.
His thoughts drifted to the household that was probably still eating dinner. What would they think of him now if they knew, splayed out like this, desperate and crying for relief? He clenched his teeth.
For over an hour he tried every way he could think of to find relief, but without removing the phallus there was nothing he could do. Finally he gave up and returned to bed, hopeful but not optimistic that sleep might save him.
At 8 AM precisely Alfons knocked on the door to Varius’s study and then opened it cautiously, not certain whether the mage would even be able to hear the sound through the thickness of the wood. The master was at his desk, frowning down at something he was working on: another strange golden object, some kind of ring on a chain. He didn’t look up from his work, but waved a hand to acknowledge Alfons and usher him in.
Alfons closed the door behind him and stumbled to the center of the room, shucking his clothes thoughtlessly and falling to his knees in the same open area where he’d been penetrated the previous day. “Please,” he begged, practically weeping, “Please, master, it hurts. Please, please let me come. I need it so badly.”
Varius sighed deeply and got up from his desk, walking over to Alfons to appraise his state. “You chastity-taught types overstimulate so easily. You are fighting the sensation, rather than indulging it. If you would just embrace the desire, it could fuel your magic to new heights.”
Alfons sobbed, bowing himself down until he was prostrate in front of the man. “Please,” he begged again.
With his forehead to the rug Alfons could not see whether Varius was rolling his eyes, but the quality of his sigh certainly implied it. “Alright, alright,” he muttered. “We’ll ease you up to it. Shorter doses, hmm? Hands and knees, then.”
Alfons had never more gratefully assumed the position. He quickly scrambled up onto his hands, pushing his torso up.
Varius reached one hand around either side of his hips. One went to the ring around his now-empty crotch, fingers once again sliding over the metal in a decisive and intricate pattern. The other hand caressed the base of the phallus inside him in a slow line from top to bottom, ending by cupping the balls.
Varius stood once more and stepped back, leaving Alfons’s cock buried inside him. Alfons barely had time for confusion before he heard Varius say, “Very well, come from this then,” and snap his fingers.
Alfons’s cock began to fuck him of its own accord, pistoning in and out of him in deep, aggressive thrusts.
Alfons screamed.
He was so overstimulated, he had expected to come immediately when released from his bonds. But this new element threw him off badly. His shaking arms stopped holding him and he fell down onto his chest, ass in the air as his own penis continued to magically slam into him over and over.
Every instinct was screaming at him to reach down to his crotch and tug himself off, but of course there was nothing there. It was sheathed inside him, pounding away. Alfons could do nothing but squeeze his eyes shut and try desperately to hold on to his sanity as waves of sensation from each thrust threatened to drown him.
There was a knock on the tower door. Alfons’s eyes flew open once more as Rowan casually sauntered in through the doorway carrying a laden silver serving tray. “Your tea, Sir,” he said formally to Varius, setting the tray down on the work table.
He paused after setting the tray down to watch Alfons for a moment with his usual smirk. He gave a low whistle of appreciation, as though Alfons was being fucked exclusively for his entertainment. The humiliation was like a bucket of ice water over Alfons; his cock softened so much from the embarrassment that it even slipped out of his ass, though it continued to buck uselessly up against his hole regardless.
“Yes, thank you Rowan,” Varius said pointedly, shooing him off. The young man gave a small chuckle before he turned and left once more, closing the door behind him.
When he was gone, Varius clucked his tongue in a disappointed sound. He returned to where Alfons was now lying in a heap, head down and weeping in frustration, his mostly-soft cock still butting hopefully between his cheeks like a puppy seeking attention.
“Unacceptable,” Varius told him sternly. “I noticed this last night at dinner, as well. Your shame has too much power over you, boy. You allow it to cut yourself off from your body. You’re in your own head about what they think of you, assuming they’re judging you.”
Varius wrenched Alfons’s head up by the chin, forcing him to look into Varius’s eyes, his expression fierce. “You must own their gazes. Their eyes are nothing to be feared. When they watch you, you must transmute that attention to desire within yourself. You are there for them. Your body is a performance for them. A feast. If you are to truly embrace your power, then you must learn that this is nothing to be ashamed of.” He paused. “Or, if it must be shame for you, then let that shame drive you. Let yourself believe you deserve it, and allow that to fuel your desire instead.” For a moment he held Alfons’s gaze, to impress his point, his dark eyes glittering. Alfons felt himself holding his breath.
Then he dropped Alfons’s head and returned to his rear. “Now,” he said matter-of-factly, grabbing up the insistent cock and stilling it. Alfons gasped as Varius stroked it quickly back to hardness and then nestled the head once more right at the pucker of Alfons’s anus. “We’re not done here until you come in your own ass.”
Alfons cried out as the magic resumed, beginning with a single long thrust that drove his own cock deep into his passage.
As promised, Varius kept the magic fucking him until Alfons finally came, spilling his seed deep into his own passage. The orgasm was so overwhelming it was almost no longer pleasurable, the relief of it too deep. Afterwards Varius handed Alfons his own cock and guided him through edging himself, getting close to orgasm and then drawing back from it, then getting close to orgasm and drawing back from it again.
Alfons only failed once, nearing too close to orgasm to pull himself back in time and spilling all over his hands and chest. It was a strange sensation, to experience climax and the sensation of someone else coming on him at the same time.
They were still at it by early afternoon when Varius finally had Alfons rub himself up to full hardness and then locked the ring around the base of his cock to once again leave him hard but unable to finish. Alfons groaned in disappointment, already dreading another evening with the torture of inescapable penetration.
To his surprise, however, Varius instead took Alfons’s penis and set it aside on his worktable. He gestured Alfons to get dressed. Uncertainly, Alfons got to his feet and began to pull on his clothing.
“You go get yourself some food,” Varius told him. “Your afternoons are your own. Practice magic, if you like, or prostate stimulation, or find another way to occupy your time. You’re welcome to make use of my library if you wish. I will see you for the evening meal.”
Alfons looked over at his cock on the worktable and then back and Varius, questioning. Varius patted the phallus, which Alfons felt despite being fully dressed. “I’ll be keeping this for now,” Varius confirmed.
Trying to shake off a feeling of dread, Alfons made his way back down into the main house.
With nothing better to do, Alfons spent the afternoon exploring the premises. He found the promised library, as well as a beautiful atrium at one corner of the house with glass walls and ceiling, bursting with plant life. The grounds were as large as one might expect for a manor of such a size, and Alfons spent an easy few hours wandering over fresh-cut grass and under the huge, spreading canopies of trees.
He tried to ignore the occasional muffled sensations of Varius handling his cock. It was not any sort of dedicated pleasuring, but he occasionally felt fingers on it—lifting, carrying, re-arranging—and once even a distinct wet sensation, as though it was being submerged in water. He had a mental image of Varius preparing his cock for a display case, cleaning it and placing it on its own stand behind the glass-walled shelves in his study, keeping Alfons’s phallus there forever and never allowing him to touch himself again.
The sensations faded as dinner approached. Alfons felt a little better about this gathering than he had about the previous night. Yes, he was still missing his penis, but at least he didn’t have to face a room full of people while trying to fight off the pleasure of penetration.
Varius’s words from that morning sat heavily in his mind: was his shame really controlling him? Keeping him from being a truly powerful mage? The academy had never said anything about that. As long as he performed his assigned magics when asked to do so, no one ever really asked how he felt about the source of his magic. Pondering the ramifications of this took him all the way to the dinner hour.
Everyone except the cooks were already seated at the table when Alfons arrived, including Maryanne, which was a bit surprising to Alfons. He remembered Sophie mentioning that she lived outside of the estate, and didn’t usually make an appearance until she was needed. Perhaps he’d gotten that wrong?
He made smalltalk with Dante the groundskeeper while they all waited for the food, complimenting his work on the estate. The large red-haired man was pleased, and slapped him heartily on the shoulder; he clearly took much pride in the place.
Finally Arnold and Rowan emerged from the kitchen, carrying covered silver platters. This was different from the previous night, where the food had been placed family-style in the middle of the table and everyone had served themselves. As his platter was placed in front of him, Alfons idly wondered what they were having that required individual servings like this. Lobster, maybe? Some other small, whole animal? He remembered the exotic dishes that Rowan had teased him about and tried to rack his brain for what else would be cooked individually like this. Rabbit, maybe? Or quails?
“Bon appetit,” said Rowan as he and Arnold seated themselves, and Alfons lifted the covering over his food to find out.
There on his plate, artfully arranged on a bed of lettuce and surrounded by a drizzle of some kind of dressing, was his own cock.
Alfons looked up in horror to find all seven faces of the staff staring directly at him. From the far end of the table, Varius’s dark eyes bored into his with a focused intensity. Alfons swallowed, paralyzed with shock.
“Well?” said Varius after a moment. “Aren’t you going to eat?” Everyone else’s dishes remained closed in front of them.
No one else said anything. As the seconds ticked by, Alfons realized that nothing would happen unless he himself made a move. He could certainly storm off, if he wanted to, but he had the distinct impression that if he did so it would have to be to pack his bags: he would not be welcome to stay any longer.
Alfons looked back down at the penis in front of him, then back up into Varius’s penetrating gaze. He swallowed again.
Feeling hazy, as though in a dream, he reached for the disembodied phallus. He felt disembodied himself, as though his actions were being controlled by someone outside himself. He could only watch, helplessly, as he picked up his own penis and brought it slowly to his lips.
At school, Alfons had prided himself on his oral technique. He overall preferred women, but you didn’t graduate with a major in sex magic without being able to give a blowjob. Alfons opened his mouth and tentatively began to lathe the head of his cock with his tongue.
The sensation of his own tongue took him more by surprise than it should have, and he groaned involuntarily before cutting the sound off in embarrassment. ‘That’s right,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m also getting a blowjob.’ He tried to think of it like a sixty-nine: focus on both giving and receiving pleasure at the same time.
Alfons pushed the cock into his mouth, past his lips, and sucked on the head. He closed his eyes, trying to block out his awareness of the people watching him. Instead he focused on the task at hand. Although flexibility was something that he’d been trained in at the university, Alfons had never had quite enough stretch in his spine to pleasure himself before. But he knew well enough what he liked. He sucked hard, bobbing over just the head at first, his lips stretching around the ridge of it again and again as it popped in and out of his mouth. He could feel himself drooling slightly. He used his hands to smear the spit over his shaft, pumping the base while his mouth was occupied with the head.
When the sensation had nearly become too much for him to handle, Alfons finally pushed the cock forward and down into his throat, swallowing the entire length in one slow push. It was remarkably similar to deep-throating the practice dildos at school; he had to control it more by pushing the phallus into himself with his hands than by lowering himself onto it.
The feeling of his throat clenching and swallowing around his cock was intense, and Alfons couldn’t stop himself from groaning once more. The vibrations of it traveled up his cock in a delightful feedback loop of pleasure. Alfons began to slowly pull the phallus back and forth, thrusting deep into his own throat as he fucked his own face.
Lost in the sensations of pleasuring himself, Alfons opened his eyes slightly, heavy-lidded with distraction. As he did so he caught sight of Rowan watching him from across the table, his usual condescending smirk firmly in place.
All of a sudden, Varius’s words from earlier seemed to click unexpectedly into place. Shame overwhelmed Alfons, but it was not the same as his earlier embarrassment. Instead it was a strange form of pleasure.
‘He sees me, and he looks down on me,’ Alfons thought. ‘He thinks I’m nothing, a lowly slave to my own body, only deserving of contempt. And maybe I am. Maybe I’m just a slut. This is a punishment from Varius, and they’re all here to watch me get what I deserve. To be used. Not even useful to anyone else, just helpless under the tyranny of my own pleasure.’
Somehow the thought overwhelmed him with desire and he whimpered helplessly as he forced the cock deeper down his throat. He felt like he would come from the sensation, but of course the ring around the base of his cock was still preventing his climax. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed around the penis in his throat, helpless. Finally, dizzy with both desire and lack of oxygen, he pulled the cock all the way back out of his mouth, gasping for breath.
“What a good boy,” said Varius, and even that felt shameful and condescending, like a man talking to his pet. “Now then, why don’t you show us all where that cock belongs.”
Alfons looked down at his crotch in confusion and then back up at Varius. He didn’t know the magic needed to re-attach it.
Varius slowly shook his head. “No no, that’s where it came from. Show us where it belongs.”
Alfons whimpered at the intensity of his master’s gaze. Helpless under the eye contact, he briefly set the phallus back down on his plate in order to undo the button on his pants and drop them, along with his underwear, down to his ankles.
“Dante, Maryanne,” said Varius, “why don’t you help our new friend up onto the table, so he can better demonstrate for us.”
Without more warning than that, the two servants grabbed Alfons and placed him on his hands and knees on the empty center of the table, turning him around so that his now bare ass faced Varius. Alfons wondered briefly if he should get entirely naked, but the voice of his new thoughts seemed to laugh at him. ‘What,’ he thought, ‘do you really think they want to see your body? That they care enough about you to want you nude? This isn’t intimacy. They want you to fuck yourself and get it overwith so they can get back to their dinner.’
Alfons looked down, his head now over the plate where his penis lay waiting. As he looked at the bedding on which it rested, he realized that the drizzle around the edge was, in fact, oil. Of course. Of course they would provide him with all the necessary instruments to humiliate himself in front of them.
Alfons smeared the phallus around his plate, coating it liberally. With a deep breath he lifted it back up and reached around behind himself.
Alfons bit his lip as he lined up the head of his cock with his asshole. It was difficult from this angle, his shoulders flush with the table and his arms reaching under and behind him to his raised ass. His arms were not long enough to hold the penis at the base; he could just barely manage to hold it steady by the head in this position. So instead of a single, long slide of penetration that would get this process over with in a hurry, he was forced to slowly inch the phallus into himself bit by tiny bit.
His rectum kept naturally trying to reject the foreign object, so he had to keep a firm grip on the cock in one hand while the other moved back an inch, drove the cock in slightly deeper, and then let go again to repeat.
It took ages for the cock to slowly disappear bit by bit inside him. ‘Sorry,’ Alfons thought at those around him, ‘I’m going as fast as I can.’ He didn’t speak the words aloud: even had he wanted to, his breathing was ragged from sensation and effort. Finally, finally, after what felt like hours, he felt the tell-tale sensation of his painfully-tight balls coming to rest firmly against his ass cheeks. He reached around to get his hand over the base and gave one last firm shove, seating it as deeply as he could inside himself and clenching down on it to keep it in place. Then he lowered his arms, stuffed ass still in the air and clearly visible to everyone, to await further instruction.
“Excellent, good boy,” said Varius soothingly. “Now get dressed again and we can have dinner.”
Alfons whimpered again, realizing that he was going to be forced to once more leave his cock inside himself for the rest of the night. But he did not protest as Maryanne and Dante helped him off the table. He finished zipping up and re-buttoning his pants and sat gingerly back down at his place around the table. The act of sitting drove the phallus just that little bit deeper inside him. He gasped, and thought about the others at the table judging him for his lack of self-control. It felt like fire was licking at his skin all up and down the length of his body.
Everyone else at the table removed the covers from the platters in front of them to reveal empty plates. Arnold and Rowan went to fetch the actual food for the table. Alfons sat silently for the rest of the meal, eating placidly and knowing that everyone around him was well aware of the cock plugging his passage.