Closing the door to his bedroom behind himself that night, Alfons panted like a dog in heat with the intensity of the pleasure suffusing his body. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the eyes of the staff on him. And in a way, he hadn’t. The knowledge of it still suffused him with shame, but the shame seemed to have taken on a life of its own, infesting him, burning inside his skin.
Curious and uncertain about these new sensations, Alfons stumbled his way into his workroom, shutting the door behind him and dropping to his knees. He felt... powerful, strangely. The smaller, more abused, more tawdry he felt, the more it felt like something big was growing inside of him, struggling to get out.
Cautiously, Alfons attempted a fire spell, like the one he’d cast the first day he’d arrived. The flames came instantly, engulfing his arm immediately and spreading to his whole body, encasing him in fire. He writhed under the sensation of it licking his skin, a physical manifestation of the desire burning within him. He gulped and tried to focus on it, tried to control it, but it was no use; the pleasurable flames caressed him, licking every inch of his body, stoking his desires.
Alfons bit his lip, sinking down until he was pressed against the floor, only his ass in the air. It felt so good, he didn’t know how he could stand it. His own cock stuffed inside him... he thought of the eyes watching him at the dinner table again, the contempt they must have felt for him, for his lack of control...
Abruptly, the cock in his ass began to thrust. Alfons cried out in surprise; he hadn’t asked it to, hadn’t tried to cast any sort of spell on it. Was this some magic of his master’s that he didn’t know about? He groaned and whimpered as his phallus began to fuck himself of its own accord, as though it could sense his debauchery and was punishing him for it. Between the harsh thrusts and the flames tickling his skin like the fingertips of a lover, Alfons realized he was drooling slightly with the wantonness of it. No wonder his master had no patience for him; he was completely at the mercy of his own lust.
His cock continued to fuck him past the point of exhaustion, until eventually he passed out at the center of a maelstrom of pleasure.
Varius eyed him thoughtfully the next morning, walking around him in a circle as he stood in the center of the old mage’s study.
“You have some power,” the man said cautiously. “You reacted far more strongly to shame than I anticipated. That is a dangerous road to walk, as I said. But perhaps it is the one most suited to you. If that is the case, so be it. However.” Here his voice became stern. “You need to learn control. Power is nothing without the finesse to wield it. It can even be a danger to yourself and others. We will do some exercises.”
A short time later found Alfons once again naked and on his hands and knees in the center of the room. His cock had been removed from his anus and sat idly nearby on the mage’s desk while the man himself kept an eye on his student. For the exercise Varius had concocted this time, Alfons’s elbows and upper arms were submerged in a tub of water. Varius had him making ice shards.
Removing energy from something was always much harder than creating it. It required a great deal of control and finesse. The process of removing enough heat from water to create ice shards was a time-honored exercise among mages. One that Alfons was... okay at. He had the control necessary to create the shards, but his power was limited to the point where they were generally very small.
He had the opposite problem today. The power flowed through him like a raging lust, but Alfons had so little control he felt he was just as likely to boil the water as freeze it. He struggled to concentrate under his master’s gaze, unable to stop imagining the feeling of heat from the previous night. He still had not been allowed to come this morning.
“Focus your desire,” Varius repeated to him for the third time. “Take everything you are feeling and imagine the thing you want. Convert it to substance.”
Alfons clenched his teeth. He did his best to put the previous night out of his mind and focus. Nevermind that Varius was watching him. Nevermind that he was naked and Varius was fully clothed, gaze intent and disapproving. Nevermind that he was nothing but a tool under his master’s will-
Alfons gasped and a chunk of ice floated to the surface of the water. It was not quite what he had been aiming for, not the perfectly shaped crystal he had envisioned, but it was bigger than he’d expected. Much bigger than the tiny ice shards he’d made at school. The entire thing was a good three inches long and around an inch in diameter, long and sharp-looking. Alfons blinked at it in surprise.
“Good,” said Varius. “Again. Another.”
As Alfons went back to focusing, Varius came around front and picked up the ice shard he’d already made, examining it.
“Not the best example of control, but it suits the purpose, I suppose,” he muttered. He walked around behind Alfons and, without warning him, shoved the shard of ice inside the boy’s ass.
Alfons screeched at the sudden cold sensation as the icy morsel disappeared into his rectum. The basin of water began to steam as he completely lost control of his magic, hips bucking wildly as his insides began to chill. “Ah, Master!” he pleaded. “No! Please! It’s-”
Varius grabbed his hair and dragged his face back over the basin of water. “I said, concentrate,” he insisted. “Cold. Not heat. Cold. Is this a distraction for you? Get used to it. We’ll have this entire tub up your ass before we’re done. Now get. Back. To work.”
Tears streaked down Alfons’s face. Despite Varius’s imploring, there was no way he could make himself focus with such a biting devil of sensation behind him. It was too much, and he couldn’t help but writhe and whimper until the shard melted away, which thankfully occurred rather quickly.
True to his word, however, Varius forced him to repeat the process. As soon as Alfons calmed down enough to be able to concentrate again and produce the next shard, Varius once again stuck it inside him. And again. And again. Cold meltwater flowed like a waterfall down the back of Alfons’s thighs, puddling around his knees on the floor as shard after shard was forced into him.
“Alright, enough,” Varius said finally several hours later. The tub was not empty, but Alfons was utterly exhausted, his ass numb from the repeated application of ice. He collapsed gratefully to one side, lying panting from the exertion, his hands wrinkled and pruny from being so long submerged. He barely noticed as Varius cast some kind of spell that cleaned up all the water from the floor.
“Not too bad,” Varius allowed. “You actually got a few of them while the ones inside you were still melting, towards the end. You are dismissed for the day. I need to focus on my work. We shall try something different tomorrow.”
Alfons lay panting for another few moments before he was able to make himself get up off the floor and put his clothes back on. Varius did not offer to give him his cock back, and Alfons did not request it. If he tried, he suspected Varius would just put it back up his ass anyway and force him to wear it around the rest of the day. He could use the day off anyway.
Finally managing to pick himself up, Alfons wandered out of the tower and back into the main house. He was quite hungry; he wasn’t used to eating lunch so late yet. He made his way to the dining hall and picked at some of the bread and cheese left there, but after so much strenuous activity in the morning, he couldn’t help but find it unfulfilling. He remembered from the note Sophie had left in his room that he was allowed to eat the leftovers from the fridge if he wanted them. Maybe that would satisfy him.
Alfons opened the door to the kitchen and then came to an abrupt halt when he saw Rowan there, sitting at the kitchen table and shucking ears of corn. The young man looked up at his entrance and grinned that crooked, condescending grin of his. “Hey,” he said.
Alfons paused, not wanting to engage with him, but in the end decided to stand his ground. He was going to be living here, after all; he couldn’t keep being intimidated by someone he was likely to see every day. “Hey,” he offered back, cautiously. He moved towards the kitchen’s enormous silver refrigerator to see what he could dig out of it.
“You look like shit,” Rowan commented. “Varius still got you fucking yourself all morning?”
“Fuck off,” Alfons growled, feeling himself blush at the memory of Rowan walking in on that very activity the previous day.
“Hey, no shade.” Alfons’s back was turned to Rowan, but he could still hear the shrug in his voice. “That’s what you’re here for, right? To get fucked?”
Alfons spun around, face flaming. “Fuck off!” he repeated. “It’s way more complicated than that, I’ll have you know! I’m not just some- some fucktoy. I’m learning to control some serious magic here!”
“Yeah duh,” said Rowan, continuing to idly shuck the ears of corn and not rising to Alfons’s ire. “Old man’s teaching you how to channel your pleasure, right? Focus the sensations through the right pathways? You probably wouldn’t even be here if you couldn’t at least make some interesting magical artifact or something. What’d you even end up making at school, anyway? Divination something, I bet. You strike me as a divination kinda guy.”
Alfons deflated somewhat, caught slightly off-guard. “Yeah, how’d you guess?”
Rowan snorted. “Figures. You would pick one of the least compatible fields for your source. You’re that kind of nerdy type.”
“What do you know about magic?” Alfons asked, half grudgingly but with a grain of genuine curiosity.
Rowan finished shucking the current ear of corn and set it aside in a bowl, picking up another. “I used to study food magic before I dropped out. I know most of the basics. Probably had a shot at graduating too, but I dunno. I guess I realized I just liked cooking for its own sake more than casting magic with it, you know? Food’s good on its own merits.”
Alfons couldn’t help staring at him, surprised. Rowan didn’t seem like the type who was disciplined enough to pursue magic. He would never have guessed that he’d studied.
Rowan caught his glance and grinned again. “What, you falling for me?” he teased. “Not some humble blue-collar anymore, so you can’t help swooning for my roguish charms?”
Alfons immediately felt his face heating again. “Shut up!” he growled. “Why are you like this?”
Rowan shrugged, but didn’t stop his teasing. “If you’re that interested in me, I don’t mind letting you suck my cock. You can do it while I’m finishing up with the corn here.”
“And why would I do that?” Alfons spat.
Rowan grinned and looked directly into Alfons’s eyes. “Simple,” he insisted. “I saw you last night, just like everybody else. I know what you want. What turns you on. You want to be treated like the slut you are. That’s where your magic comes from, right? Being treated like a little sex toy and then discarded like used trash? I just figured I’d help you out. I’m not doing much at the moment, and your mouth is right there, being wasted when it could be put to better use.”
Alfons was stunned into appalled silence. His face was burning with embarrassment, but the hot shame of the previous evening was beginning to suffuse him and it was... surprisingly intoxicating. Somewhere, he felt his disembodied penis hardening. He was surprised by how turned on he felt. As much as he despised Rowan- no, because he despised Rowan, the young man’s flippant distaste and condescension for him sparked a particular heat in his belly.
Rowan set down the corn he was working on and pointedly unzipped his fly, pulling out his cock and giving it a couple strokes before leaving it standing in the open air. “Well?” he prompted, eyebrow raised.
Alfons swallowed. As though controlled from the outside, he felt his body move forward, sinking to the floor to kneel down in front of Rowan. A small voice in his head was screaming at him, begging him to stop, but it was drowned out by newer, more insistent voices that told him that yes, Rowan was right. He was just here to be used. This was the best purpose he could serve.
Alfons leaned forward and allowed his head to sink down onto Rowan’s cock, letting it fill his mouth.
“That’s it,” Rowan coaxed gently. He petted Alfons’s hair briefly before returning to the work he had been doing, leaving Alfons to pleasure him.
Alfons took his time, still unsure of himself, but the more Rowan ignored him the more he desperately craved the feeling of the young man’s cock inside him. He licked and sucked at the penis until it was fully hard in his mouth and then gratefully sank his throat down onto it, swallowing it as deep into him as it would go.
Alfons continued to work diligently at Rowan’s cock as Rowan went about his business, bobbing his head up and down and fucking his throat on the rigid member, swallowing around it whenever he could. The out-of-body feeling continued; in some corner of his mind he was horrified at his own actions. But the new instincts awakening in him were rejoicing, greedy for humiliation. He groaned at the sheer wantonness he felt, the desire that coursed through him as Rowan’s cock plundered his mouth.
He heard Rowan chuckle above him. “That’s the little slut I knew you were. You crave that dick, huh? I bet there’s nothing you want more right now than for me to pull your pants down and shove this ear of corn right up your ass.”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to Alfons, but it dragged a helpless moan from him in response, offended and yet somehow turned on by the concept at the same time. He felt himself shifting his hips upward involuntarily, as though begging to be filled.
Rowan snorted. “Unfortunately for you, this food is too good for your filthy little hole. Do a good job blowing me now though and maybe I’ll deign to fuck you sometime later.”
Alfons whimpered and renewed his efforts, slamming himself down onto Rowan’s cock again and again until he was almost gagging. He poured as much of his training as he could into the action, slurping and sucking at Rowan’s member like it was manna from heaven. He was gratified when, mere minutes later, he felt Rowan’s balls clench as he came, shooting his sperm into Alfons in spasms. Alfons drank it all down greedily, swallowing again and again around Rowan’s climax until finally his hips stopped shuddering and sank back down.
“There we go,” Rowan said with a sigh. “Nice job, slut. Happy I could help you out there. Now get out of here; some of us have work to do.”
Face fully aflame with embarrassment, Alfons stood, unable to meet Rowan’s gaze. He turned to leave, heading for the door, wanting to get out of there as quickly as he could. The shame and desire were warring inside him, unable to decide if that had been the best or worst decision of his life.
Rowan’s lilting, sarcastic voice followed him out. “Maybe if I’m feeling like it later I’ll come see about your other hole!”
Whenever Alfons felt conflicted, he liked to go on walks. Luckily for him, the grounds around Varius’s house were more than welcoming for such a pastime. His pounding heart slowly calmed as Alfons wandered under the picturesque boughs of trees and along winding garden paths. The grounds were a lovely mixture of formal, well-tended gardens and intentionally wilder, more free-form spaces. There was a small pond with a handful of willows weeping over the edge, and even a grove in one corner that appeared to be an orchard of some kind.
Alfons tried hard not to focus on Rowan, and to instead enjoy the warm, gentle afternoon sunlight. The freshness of his surroundings seeped into him. Why was he so panicked, anyway? Varius had told him to exercise his sexuality. He was literally doing what he’d come here to do. Where was the harm in that? So what if the staff treated him like... well, like Rowan just had. It was a good thing, wasn’t it? If he felt shame over it, well, then, all he had to do was channel it. Just like Varius said.
Alfons wandered near the small cottage in the back corner of the estate and saw Dante, the groundskeeper, trimming some nearby hedges with an enormous pair of clippers. The large man paused in his work and lifted a hand in greeting as Alfons passed. Alfons waved back, but didn’t stop for a chat; he was in no mood for conversation at the moment.
He continued his walk, but in the end came to no particular conclusions. Insecurity ate at the edges of his mind, but the worst part was that he could find no concrete reasons for the way he felt. He knew, intellectually, that he had nothing to worry about. But the uncertainty still plagued him in spite of this; a little demon that sat in the back of his brain and eagerly needled him. It didn’t help that throughout the entire afternoon he had continued to maintain a low, simmering level of arousal over his lunchtime escapade. Another loose puzzle piece that rattled around his psyche with no particular home.
Eventually he returned to his room to read and meditate, trying to put the encounter out of his mind. But he was not in much better mental straits when dinner time rolled around and he was forced to return to general society once more.
He sat in his usual chair as the food was served and studiously avoided eye contact with Rowan as an enormous plate of grilled corn on the cob was placed in the middle of the table. It was accompanied by medallion-shaped cuts of meat dripping in a savory brown sauce, some kind of creamy, cheese-covered asparagus dish, and a mixture of mashed redskin potatoes and stewed greens that looked straight out of a magazine advertising Thanksgiving. Whatever else could be said about them, Rowan and his boss clearly knew their trade. A divine mix of smells mingled together above the table.
The other manor staff began to serve themselves without ceremony, bantering smalltalk back and forth across the table with the ease of long familiarity. They didn’t seem particularly put out by Alfons’s wary silence; perhaps they were coming to expect it from him by now. They also made no particular allusions to the previous night’s dinner activities. No one even threw him so much as a side-eye. It was as though his indiscreet exhibition had never occurred. Perhaps they were used to such occurrences, living with Varius.
It was only Rowan, then, who had made any particular acknowledgement of Alfons’s... performance. Alfons cautiously snuck a glance at the other young man, hastily averting his gaze before he could be caught looking. What was it about Rowan that was so different? Was it just his youth? He did seem to be the youngest one among the staff. Maybe he hadn’t been working for Varius as long as everyone else? Or was there some particular interest he had in Alfons personally...?
He tried to focus on eating. The food really was very good. He even stoically avoided blushing while he ate his corn on the cob, despite his mind’s inescapable focus on how phallic the food was.
“Not bad Rowan!” came Dante’s booming voice from across the table. “I’m starting to wonder if old Arnie’s just holding you back, if this is what you can do without him!” Alfons blinked. It was true that Arnold, the head chef, was absent from the table. He hadn’t really processed the fact, since the group was smaller already without Maryanne and the cooks tended to seat themselves last.
Rowan smiled at the compliment, but shrugged. “Eh, it’s still too much work for one person, cooking for all you lot. And Arnie would skin me if I tried to dictate the menu while he was around.” He grinned. “He’s bound to retire at some point though, and then maybe I can get my own assistant to boss around.”
Dante laughed heartily from the gut and the housekeeper, Sophie, looked like she was politely hiding a smile. Jackson, the other quiet and sullen member of the dinner assembly, looked sour. But this seemed to be his usual expression and not a particular response to anything that had been said. Varius also looked faintly amused, but said nothing in response.
Alfons let the general dinner conversation wash over him, contributing occasionally here and there but mostly keeping his silence. The food did wonders for his constitution; it was remarkable how much better the world always looked on a full stomach. He wondered if maybe Rowan was still practicing a little food magic after all, if only as a minor boost to make the meal that much more satisfying. Or maybe he was just that good.
The eating gradually wound down and Rowan began to clear the table, shepherding dirty dishes back into the kitchen. Varius was the first to stand and leave, nodding to everyone as he departed with the perfunctory air of someone whose mind was elsewhere. Alfons leaned back in his chair and wondered if he had the mental energy left to try to get in some research before bed.
“Oh hey Alfons, mind helping me out in here for a sec?” Rowan was holding a plate in each hand. When Alfons looked up at him, he gestured towards the kitchen with his head.
“Oh,” said Alfons, startled. “Uh, sure.” He stood hastily and followed Rowan through the swinging door into the kitchen.
The door had barely closed behind him before Rowan grabbed him. “As promised,” came a warm and intimate whisper next to his ear. For a moment he thought Rowan was pulling him into an embrace, but the motion kept going, throwing Alfons off his balance. Before he fully understood what was even happening, Rowan had him bent over the wooden arms of a nearby chair. Alfons turned his head to look behind him in confusion only to see Rowan swiftly yanking his pants and underwear down his thighs.
Their eyes met for a brief moment. Rowan’s expression was strangely triumphant, a cruelty hiding in the edges of his sneer. Alfons was still three steps behind, failing to understand what was happening, when Rowan grabbed up one of the discarded corn cobs from a dirty plate on the table next to them and began to shove it up his ass.
“Wh- don- ah-aaaah!” Alfons gasped incoherently as the damp refuse slid into his hole. He went still, once again caught helplessly between a desire to flee and a desire to prostrate himself, to allow any abuse. Protests died behind his teeth as Rowan steadily worked the foreign object further and further into him.
“I figured you were probably still lonely from this afternoon,” Rowan taunted, “and we might as well put the trash in the dumpster where it belongs, no? Now we can give your little hole what it was craving all along. Here, have another.” Having fully seated one corn cob inside Alfons’s hole, he went without hesitation to another, lining it up beside the first and proceeding to shove it in just as forcefully.
Alfons groaned. He bucked his hips upwards, although even he couldn’t be sure if it was in protest or demand for more. His mind was still reeling in shock; he felt like he’d somehow crossed over into another reality the moment he’d stepped inside the kitchen. Rowan finished pushing the second corn cob up his ass and began on a third.
“Wh- what?” he managed eventually. A barely coherent question with an all too obvious answer.
“I told you,” Rowan repeated, “I’m just putting this trash in the dumpster, where it belongs.” He smirked. “You’re the dumpster in this metaphor, in case that wasn’t clear.” Alfons felt Rowan’s fingers stretching open his hole to accommodate the nose of a fourth corn cob squirming its way into position alongside the others.
“No- wait- don’t-” Alfons protested as the newest invader began to slide into him along with the others. His ass was starting to feel remarkably full. At the same time, power and lust surged through him like never before. Shame suffused every cell of his body, delicious and heady.
“Don’t?” Rowan questioned, continuing to push the corn cob deeper. “What, you don’t think you can fit so much trash? I beg to differ. I can see your hole positively gagging for it. We can definitely fit at least a few more in.” True to his word, Alfons felt him line up a fifth cob at the center of the others already penetrating him and begin to shove it inside, spreading the previous ones apart and forcing his hole wider. Alfons gasped and clutched desperately at the arm of the chair under him.
“See, your hole gets what it was hungry for after all,” said Rowan, finishing pushing the fifth cob deep inside him and beginning on a sixth. It was more than Alfons could bear, thicker even than being fisted. He’d never been so widely stretched before.
“Please,” he protested desperately. “Please, no more, I can’t take it!”
With a last harsh shove, the sixth cob was rammed fully into his hole, forced deep inside beside the others. His ass felt absurdly stuffed; he could only imagine how he must look, how pathetic and used. He was practically drooling.
Rowan patted his bare cheeks almost companionably. “There we go,” he said, his voice full of a mocking false pity. “Happy to help your greedy little hole get what it was craving. I know you must’ve been gagging for this all afternoon.” He strolled around the back of the chair, coming around to Alfons’s face. His body language was all nonchalance as he reached down to unzip his fly and pull out his cock. “I think I deserve a thank you, for being so kind, don’t you?”
Alfons could barely move under the strain of the immense penetration stretching open his ass, but Rowan helpfully moved forward, bringing his cock to Alfons’s lips. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Alfons’s head and proceeded to push his eager member into his mouth.
Alfons’s mind was blank. Some deep, primordial instinct bubbled up from within him. He did as he was told, gratefully sucking the cock deeper into his mouth and lovingly lathing it with his tongue. He groaned with the force of the desire that suffused him, desperate for the taste of humiliation. He suckled greedily at Rowan’s stiff rod, milking it with his throat and whimpering for more. He felt the satisfied clench of Rowan’s hands in his hair as the cook used him for pleasure without a second thought.
Rowan let him go at his own pace, allowing Alfons to service him with all the skill he could muster, until finally it was enough and his fingers clenched in Alfons’s hair as he unloaded his cum down the young mage’s throat. Rowan gave his hair a condescending little pet as he withdrew his softening member from the mage’s lips and tucked himself away once more.
He walked around behind Alfons and gave the butts of the cobs a satisfied little pat where they continued to cleave his ass in half. To Alfons’s surprise, he then proceeded to pull up Alfons’s underwear and pants over them, leaving the vegetable castoffs shoved deep inside him. “The favor I wanted your help with,” he remarked casually, “was disposing of these.” He pushed forward a plate with the rest of the cobs on them into Alfons’s field of view. “Would you mind taking the cobs out to the compost pile in the back? You can just leave the plate on the dining table when you’re done. I’ll grab it later.”
Once again the dismissiveness rankled Alfons and filled him with lust at the same time. His cock, wherever it was, was rock hard. He was desperate to come, filled to the brim with shame and corn cobs and Rowan’s jizz. But he had no outlet.
He could barely move under the size of the penetration. He wasn’t sure how Rowan expected him to walk all the way out of the house and around it like this. It was surely impossible. There was no way he would be able to stand, let alone take a step.
But of course... impossible. He was a mage, wasn’t he? What was impossible to a mage? Alfons closed his eyes and tried to focus his magic. Focus. That was what Varius was trying to teach him, wasn’t it? He’d never felt so much power coursing through him, certainly there must be something he could...
Alfons gasped and let out a pained whimper as his body rose upright. He wasn’t putting any weight on his feet, or engaging his balance in any way; the sheer force of the magic lifted him. He groped for the plate that Rowan had pushed his way. It was a different kind of torture, trying to focus the magic to do what he wanted while his mind was enflamed with lust. But he forced his unruly desires into line. Control. Control. Control.
As light as a feather, Alfons grasped the plate to his chest and proceeded to drift his way out of the house.