Alfons managed to dispose of the corn cobs as instructed, crying out in relief when he was finally able to rid himself of the penetration. Then he went to take a shower, his mind just as full of turmoil as it had been in the afternoon. He slept restlessly that night, tormented by dreams that drifted in and out of eroticism with maddening instability, like an unscratchable itch.
The next morning, Varius had him resume his ice exercises, striving for focus and control. Alfons certainly had a greater respect for the importance of control after the previous day; his magic had failed him right at the end, and he’d had to stagger painfully the last few steps to the compost pile on trembling legs. But his mind was too riled up with confusion and uncertainty to properly focus.
Varius growled in frustration as Alfons’s fifth attempt to create an ice crystal failed. “Useless,” he chastised. “I told you, if you are going to walk the road of shame, you must come to terms with it quickly. The sooner you understand your own desires, the sooner you can master them.” He glanced down at Alfons’s hands submerged in the tub of water and sighed. “Sit up, sit up,” he groused.
Alfons hurried to do so, surprised. Normally Varius never let him give up on a task until he’d completed it at least partially successfully. He sat back on his heels and looked up at his mentor.
“I’m going to tell you something very important,” Varius said seriously, holding Alfons’s gaze. “You must listen closely. Are you listening?”
Alfons nodded, curious at his master’s strange shift in tone.
“You must be very careful not to fall in love,” Varius instructed. Alfons blinked.
“I know Rowan is very handsome,” Varius continued, “but love is nothing but a hindrance for sex mages. It is a very dangerous trap. When you love, you focus your desires on a single person. You bind yourself to them. Entrapped, one might say. You cannot properly feel lust as broadly as you should. Your power becomes limited to what that one person can give you, what they can instill in you. And they become a necessary component for your magic. You will always be handcuffed, never able to realize your full potential. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Alfons felt like he was at least three steps behind in the conversation. “You- you think I’m in love with Rowan?”
“You have been letting him take many liberties,” Varius pointed out. Alfons wondered to what degree Varius was truly aware of those liberties. “And, more dangerously, he has clearly been disproportionately occupying your thoughts. Do not allow yourself to become distracted. Remember, your lust is about yourself. It is about the feelings engendered in you, not the one who engenders them.”
“I’m not in love with Rowan!” Alfons sputtered. The thought was ludicrous. Obviously it was. The fact that Varius would even think such a thing felt absurd, like the thought came from another universe. He despised Rowan. Or, at the very least, Rowan seemed to despise him.
“See to it that it stays that way,” said Varius. “Now, back to work. Hands in the basin.”
Alfons struggled through the rest of his lesson, his thoughts swirling with Varius’s accusation. In love with Rowan? In love with Rowan? Preposterous.
Except... except he understood how Varius could have come to that conclusion. He wasn’t in love with Rowan, but Rowan did make him feel... something. A strange compulsion that he had never felt before. Rowan did awaken in him a force of magic that he’d hitherto never experienced. That was not nothing.
When a fed-up Varius let him go several hours later after he’d failed to produce more than a handful of small ice shards, Alfons’s mind was still occupied with these musings. He wasn’t in love with Rowan. He wasn’t. The thought gave him goosebumps, and not in a good way. It made him feel as though he was a maiden who’d been promised in marriage to some abusive older lord, someone with great power and no scruples.
Surely there was a way to prove that he wasn’t? That he was capable of generating this kind of lust on his own? He was in control of his own body. Like Varius said, his magic was supposed to be about himself. Not about someone else.
As usual, Alfons found himself wandering the grounds as he pondered. This time, however, he barely registered his surroundings; he was far too lost within his own mind, turning his situation over and over, treading an endless circle. When he finally looked up, he was shocked to realize that he’d made it close to the edge of the property. In the distance he could see Dante’s small cottage, quaint and homey, watching patiently over the grounds.
His strides slowed. The sight slowly trickled down into his conscious mind, sparking a sudden burst of inspiration.
“I’ll show him,” Alfons muttered, and made his way towards the building.
The little cottage was even cuter up close, orange roof tiles and eaves overhanging with ivy, its white door carved and painted with an ornamentation of birds, fruit, and other pastoral imagery. Alfons raised a hand and rapped nervously on the door.
“It’s open!” came a booming voice from inside.
Alfons swallowed and opened the door.
On the other side was a grandmotherly living room that matched the quaint aesthetic of the outside; the furniture was well-worn and plush, with multiple surfaces covered in doilies, every horizontal surface positively overflowing with flower vases and knick-knacks. Overall it gave a pleasant, homey vibe; the sort of place you’d expect to find someone baking fresh bread.
In the center of the living room was an old-fashioned sofa and a recliner in front of a small television. Dante himself was seated on the sofa, a can of beer in hand, socked feet propped up on the coffee table, a soccer game in front of him on the tv screen. He looked up at Alfons as he entered and nodded congenially.
“Ah, well if it isn’t the young apprentice!” His voice was deeply masculine and slightly accented, cheerful and appropriately enormous for his large, bear-like frame. Alfons had never been particularly great with accents, but he was fairly certain the man was Scottish. “Something I can do for you, Lad?”
Alfons opened his mouth to speak, but the words dried up and withered to dust on his tongue, leaving his throat parched. What on earth was he doing here? What was he supposed to say?
He took a step forward, his feet leading him in of his own accord, and closed the door behind him. Conscientiously, not wanting to offend, he took his shoes off in the small linoleum patch of the entryway and set them to one side.
Like an automaton, Alfons found himself walking into the center of the living room until he was standing beside the sofa. He sank to his knees, turning around so his back was to Dante, and unceremoniously pulled his pants and underwear down his thighs. Lifting his ass into the air and lowering the front of his torso, he reached behind himself with both hands and pulled apart his buttocks, displaying his asshole as best he could.
“Please,” he whispered softly, flush with shame and embarrassment. “Please, degrade me. Defile my unworthy hole.”
He wasn’t certain what reaction he expected from Dante, but after a beat of silence he was startled when the man laughed. “Aye, is that what this is about? Hmph. Defile, hm? I imagine I can arrange something of that nature. But first things first, if that’s the way this is going to go. You’ll need to get me prepared to take advantage of that needy little hole of yours first.”
Alfons looked over his shoulder as Dante unzipped the fly of his pants, reaching in and drawing out his member.
His cock was not as long as some Alfons had had to deal with in the past, but it was enormously girthy beneath the man’s round and hairy belly. Once he had released it, Dante leaned back in his seat and placed his arms across the top of the couch, raising an eyebrow at Alfons expectantly.
Alfons hurried to comply, crawling into position between his legs and leaning forward to bring his mouth down on the exposed organ. He began by laving it with his tongue, licking it up and down like a dog kissing its owner. He whimpered in the back of his throat, turned on by his own desperation, especially as Dante ignored him to turn his attention back to the match on TV.
Determined to please him, Alfons drew the cock into his mouth and began bobbing his head up and down over it, swallowing as Dante’s member stiffened into the warm cavern he was providing it. With a groan he sucked inward, encouraging it to harden all the way back into his throat and choke him. He forced himself down greedily, pushing the eager cock as far back as it would go until the man’s copious pubic hair tickled his lips, still-clothed balls resting against his chin.
Dante only half-paid attention as Alfons did his best to please him, exercising all of his considerable talent to swallow the man down again and again. The fact that Alfons was apparently marginally less interesting to him than his sports game turned him on far more than he expected; ‘Yes,’ he thought to himself, ‘that’s all I’m worth. Barely an afternoon’s entertainment.’ He groaned in pleasure around the cock in his mouth.
Eventually, his cock fully erect and dripping with Alfons’s efforts, Dante patted the boy on the head to get him to withdraw. “That’s enough of that,” he said easily. He spun one finger in a circle to indicate that Alfons should turn around. “As you were, Lad.”
Alfons resumed his previous position, chest down on the floor with his ass in the air and hands holding open his buttocks. With the air of one being asked to perform a chore, Dante rose from his seat on the couch and knelt behind him. He adjusted his underwear to fully pull himself out and settled in with one hand on Alfons’s thigh and the other on his member, guiding it.
After a moment of careful angling, Alfons felt the fleshy head of Dante’s cock come to rest against his hole for just a moment before it began to push in, cleaving him wide open. Alfons groaned in pleasure as he was filled.
“Nrrgh,” Dante grunted as he forced inch after inch of the fat organ into Alfons’s hole without pause. He gave a couple partial thrusts until he could seat himself fully balls-deep in Alfons’s ass. “Attaboy,” he said encouragingly, giving Alfons’s buttock a small, encouraging smack. “There’s a good lad. You’re a little tight, Boy. Gonna chafe the goods at this rate. Ease up a bit, would ya?”
Alfons swallowed and focused his mind on a spell, trying desperately for control. Control. Control. That’s what Varius was teaching him, right? Not too much now...
His hole gushed with slick, wet as any pussy, easing Dante’s passage. The man chuckled.
“That’ll do,” he said, content, and began to thrust.
His motions were harsh and workman-like, big hands holding Alfons’s hips steady as he speared him again and again. From his position with his face on the floor, half-turned, Alfons could see that his attention was back on the television, eyes avidly following the sports game as he continued to nonchalantly drill Alfons into the carpet. Alfons groaned, unbelievably turned on, and wished he had access to his dick. He briefly wondered what Varius must think; if he was looking at it right now and watching how hard Alfons was getting.
Though apparently half-distracted, Dante’s thrusts were nevertheless deep, buried completely inside him at each peak. On and on and on it went, with no particular sign of slowing down or speeding up. It almost seemed like he had forgotten that he was fucking Alfons, and his body was on autopilot.
It wasn’t until the halftime break that Dante finally tore his attention away long enough to finish. As the players left the field, he turned his attention back to Alfons, leaning further over him. He grabbed the youth’s head in one, enormous, meaty hand and held it down, while the other yanked Alfons’s hips back towards him. His thrusts sped up, pinning Alfons in place, contorting his spine into an almost painful arc as he rammed home into his ass over and over and finally came, emptying his balls up Alfons’s passage.
Afterwards he sat back with a pleased sigh, holding his cock in place inside Alfons for a moment or two before it began to soften and slip out.
“That should do for prep,” he said cheerfully. “Now let’s see about that defiling, hm? I think I have just the thing.”
Alfons, who had assumed that this treatment was the defiling, blinked in surprise. Adrenaline flooded through his veins in tense anticipation as he remained ass-up on the floor, Dante’s semen seeping deeper inside him.
He was startled by a sudden piercing whistle from behind him. He looked up in time to see Dante remove his fingers from his mouth and say, “Oy! Virgil!”
For just a moment Alfons was confused; he was pretty certain he’d already been introduced to every member of Varius’s staff. Who hadn’t he met yet? But his question was answered almost instantly as an enormous dog padded its way into the room from down the hall.
Virgil was a short-haired black mastiff of some kind, nearly as big as a man, thick-bodied and floppy-skinned, face a mass of wrinkles and drool. He entered the room at a sedate pace and gave Dante a confused look before approaching Alfons on the floor and sniffing him curiously. Slobber flecked from his swaying jowls onto the side of Alfons’s face.
“There we are,” Dante said cheerfully. “What say we let old Virgil have a turn with ya as well, hm? Been a bit since he’s had access to a bitch.”
Alfons fingertips tingled, goosebumps raised on his skin. His heart felt like it was going to pound itself out of his chest. He was utterly horrified, and yet... was this not what he had asked for? To be defiled? To be used in such a manner?
“But-” Alfons protested, “I don’t know how... how would I even...?”
Dante smirked. “Just like me,” he instructed. “Get him ready first. A cock’s a cock, Lad.”
With that he grabbed Alfons’s legs and slid him across the carpet until his face was under the dog’s stomach. Alfons looked up and felt nauseous; there it was, the bulge of the dog’s cock, hidden and waiting for his attention.
With a gulp and a feeling of triumphant despair, Alfons reached up for the phallus.
He placed his hand on it lightly; the dog jumped at the first touch, but settled in as he began to caress it. He massaged the bulge, uncertain at first. It was soft and delicate to the touch. Despite his hesitation, after a few moments a small red tip began to protrude from the sack of flesh between the dog’s legs.
“Thatta boy,” Dante said, and Alfons didn’t know whether he was encouraging him or the dog. “Now. Your mouth.”
Alfons gasped, frozen in place, until Dante bodily reached forward and grabbed his head, lifting it up until his lips rested at the peeking tip of the dog’s erection.
“You gotta push back the skin around the tip while you massage the base,” Dante explained. “Do it with your lips.”
Alfons whimpered, but pushed his head forward until his lips touched the softly-furred shroud encasing the canine phallus. The slick tip of the dog’s cock just barely pushed past into his mouth, like an exploratory finger.
His mind blank with terror and arousal, Alfons moved his head forward, pushing the skin around the dog’s cock down with his mouth as he gently fondled the base near the balls, as instructed. It felt almost like peeling a banana with his lips as he forced the dog’s member out of its protective sheath and into the warm cavern of his mouth.
It was not nearly large enough to choke him, but the sheer obscenity of it had Alfons gagging nonetheless. He held the peeled cock between his lips as long as he could stand, massaging the other end, until he felt the dog rear up in front of him, placing his hind legs on Alfons’s shoulders.
“Ah, there we are, back off now, looks like he’s ready for ya,” Dante instructed. Alfons yanked his head away as though he’d been burned, the feeling of the dog’s cock in his mouth seared into his mind, a sensation he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.
But he had little time to dwell, as Dante once again forced his head down to the carpet, raising his hips up from where they’d settled against his ankles during his ministrations. He led Virgil around behind Alfons and, before Alfons had fully adjusted to what was happening, encouraged him to mount up.
The dog was heavy on his back, weight matching the rest of his enormous size. Alfons’s jaw clenched as he watched Dante angle the dog’s hips until the beast’s now sizeable erection was lined up with Alfons’s tender, leaking ass. When the narrow spike was properly aligned, he pushed the animal’s hips forward until Alfons felt the cock begin to enter him. Then he stopped, leaving the dog to do the rest of the work himself.
And work he did. As soon as his erection slid inside Alfons’s hole, his forelegs grabbed Alfons’s hips and he jammed himself as deep as he could into the boy’s ass. He began to swivel, in and out, in and out, fucking Alfons like the animal he was, harsh and fast and with abandon.
Alfons gulped; it felt like the dog was already coming. He could feel fluid leaking out from the point of penetration and sliding down the back of his leg, far too much to be from Dante’s earlier attentions alone. And then the leaking stopped, not because the dog stopped producing fluid, but because he adjusted himself and pushed in deep enough to entirely plug Alfons’s orifice.
Alfons whimpered as the dog continued to fuck and—apparently—come in him? Dante had promised him defilement, but he’d never imagined... And then the dog was coming in earnest, the flood growing, filling him. Shame smoldered in Alfons’s body as he was marked, as the dog did its best to impregnate him like the bitch he was.
But then, instead of pulling out, something else happened. Alfons’s eyes widened as the dog’s cock began to grow inside him, the point of penetration widening, forcing open his asshole, distending it as it swelled and swelled within his passage.
“Wh-” Alfons managed, and then felt the dog come in him again, more fluid filling up his well-plugged passage. He couldn’t stop himself from whimpering once more, full of confusion.
The dog shifted, dropping off Alfons to one side and lifting one of its rear legs over Alfons’s back, all without disconnecting from the penetration. If anything, the tight plug inside him seemed to swell even more in size as the dog rotated until it was standing butt to butt with him.
Alfons heard Dante chuckle. He’d lost track of the man, who was once again seated on the couch. He turned his head to face the groundskeeper, beseeching, desperate for an explanation of what was happening.
“Dog’s tied ya,” Dante told him. “You never seen dogs fuck before, Lad? And ya claim to be a sex wizard. Feh. He’s knotted up your arse, Boy. Swole up to plug ya. He’ll stay like that to keep his cum in ya to better breed ya.”
Dante leaned back once more on the couch, turning his attention back to the television; the break was just ending, and the players were resuming their positions on the field for the second half. “Average dog ties for around fifteen minutes to forty-five, for your edification. Virgil here’s been known to go long though. Once near an hour. I guess we’ll see if he finishes with you before the game’s done.” And with that his attention was fully distracted once more, focused entirely on the TV rather than on his dog violating Alfons’s ass on the carpet.
Alfons swallowed, unable to say a word as the dog’s knot expertly kept his passage full of sperm.