The Ancient Magnus' Bride *Closed for UPH &Me*

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell gasped as their bodies parted suddenly and he was brought back to himself, much relieved that it was her climax he’d experienced and not his own. When she apologized, he embraced her, his cock still turgid and near orgasm—but that was less important to him now.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, dear Lee. You are a truly remarkable creature indeed,” S’worrell nuzzled his skeletal maw against her cheek, “I was only worried that I’d cum inside you, as I’ve never in all my time experienced the female orgasm before you…”

What would he even call it? Invasive Empathy? Overwhelming Emotional Sharing? Offensive Feeling?

“Touched me. Lee you must be very careful not to come into contact with my seed. The curse that granted me immortality also made certain bodily secretions of mine toxic, in a sense, to mortals. I’ll explain more later, but for now if you’re up for it, you may finish me off with your hands. I’ll warn you before…”

Simply that seemed sufficient, S’worrell was still feeling slightly sensitive in the wake of riding as a passenger on Lee’s climax. Her gentle caresses on his chest made his heart beat faster. He cradled her into his lap and spread his thighs, allowing her to finish the finishing strokes to bring about his climax.

It took just a little while longer than he’d expected, but when his climax arrived, he tapped her shoulder and gently slid her out of his lap. When she was seated beside him, he stood up and wrapped a dry towel around his cock, ejaculating into the fluffy fabric with a grunt. He tossed the towel far away from the tub.

S’worrell climbed out of the tub and offered his hand to Lee, not wanting to let her slip and fall.

“You’re very special, Lee. You did something very impressive tonight, I’m proud of you,” S’worrell wrapped her in a warm, dry towel and a warmer embrace, “I’m glad that we’ve found each other. I’ve been so focused on what I needed from you I’ve overlooked what you have to offer from within yourself. I knew you had potential—but a natural born empath… more people are struck by lightning.”

S’worrell glanced over at the thin robe hanging from a hook.

“And first thing tomorrow, we’ll get you some new clothes.”

 

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With S'worrell's reassuring words, Leanna melted into his embrace. Her head rested against his chest as he spoke, and she could feel the vibration of his deep voice through his chest. Feelings of comfort and calm washed over her suddenly and she blinked at the news of his cursed seed. She made a mental note, and a pang of sympathy went through her. Leanna knew S'worell was ancient, but the fact that whatever turned him immortal made his secretion's toxic, seemed like a cruel twist for him.

When he invited her to finish him, Leanna reached down and began to stroke his lengthy cock with both hands. She paid attention to his grunts and groans, doing her best to at least repay him for the mind spinning orgasm she'd just experienced. When S'worrell tapped her on the shoulder and slid her off of his lap, Leanna watched as he finished in a towel.

His outstretched hand was appreciated, as Leanna's legs still felt like jelly from her orgasm. When he wrapped the towel, and his arms around her, Leanna sighed in contentment. It surprised her to find that she felt warmed by his words of being proud of her. When S'worrell mentioned how rare her 'gift' was, Leanna still couldn't believe it.

She'd spent her entire life feeling like it was a burden to be alive. Had it really just been the weight of everyone's emotions on her? Leanna still felt like her brain was moving through a thick fog, and she assured herself that she would worry more about that later.

"Thank you...Master. I hope you sleep well." She wrapped her arms around his middle, in a warm embrace, before turning to grab her robe off of the hook. "I look forward to going shopping with you." She told him as she hung up the towel and wrapped the thin robe around her small frame.

Leanna wanted to say more, but she had no idea how to voice the whirlwind that was spinning inside of her. With one last half smile at S'worrell, she headed for the stairway to her room.

The warmth of her room was inviting and within moments of entering it, Leanna had slipped into bed and pulled the silky blankets around her. She wanted to relax and think, but with her orgasm hazed mind, Leanna was soon fast asleep.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

In the hours between late and early, there came an increasing and urgent sounding chorus of snarls, grunts and roars—like a lion fighting against a bear, filtering down through the sculpted hallway that led to S’worrell’s private room. The hallway grew hotter as the sounds became louder and more agonized with each passing moment.

The roars became deafening at one point and little tongues of blue flame began to swirl and lap at the ceiling as the heat from above became almost unbearable, like being inside of an oven.

Just as it seemed that the heat alone would surely kill Leanna even in her room, the roars and the mounting heat all ceased at once. As though a burner had been turned off. The rocks closer to the top of the passageway still radiated with enough heat to glow a fading hue of orange and there was a sulfurous smoke that crept down the passage and into Leanna’s room.

But after that, all was peaceful.

*-*-*

With practiced care and gentle precision, S’worrell pushed down the plunger of the French Press to separate the Columbian grounds from the hot water, leaving rich, black coffee in the glass pitcher—the grounds neatly pinned to the bottom.

The ancient Magus poured himself a cup inside a grey, stoneware mug. He then set about cutting fresh oranges in half, these picked fresh from an orchard in Florida, his ability to bend time and space allowed him to have the best ingredients for anything he desired. He was in the midst of twisting the orange halves onto a marble juicing knob when he heard Lee stirring in her bedroom.

S’worrell was hoping that he had not disturbed her sleep in the night but felt almost certain that he had.

“Good morning, Lee,” S’worrell called back toward her room, “I hope that you’ve slept well.”

 

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Strange dreams visited Leanna as she slept. A replaying of her intimate time with S'worrell accompanied the beginnings of the animalistic roars that echoed down the hall. In her dream he hadn't slowed down when she asked, and continued to pound into her. A real feeling, like a sudden pain in her stomach had her sitting up in bed. The phantom pain disappeared as soon as she opened her eyes and Leanna was left with the echoing sounds of rage coming from down above.

She laid back in bed and fought the urge to investigate. She was glad she did as she searing heat began to build above her. She was forming an escape plan as she began to sweat under the sheets and tore them off. What would happen if she couldn't outrun the heat? Just as Leanna was about to push herself from the bed, the intensity faded as did the sounds.

Leanna let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and she knew she wouldn't be able to go right back to sleep. She moved over to the desk and picked up the book on French cooking once more. She fell asleep at some point while reading, in the comfortable chair.


She wasn't sure what time it was when she woke, but sounds from down the hall told her she wasn't the first to rise. When S'worrell's voice filtered down the hall, Leanna yawned and stretched. The smells entering her room made her mouth water, and she knew breakfast would help her forget the slight ache in her nether regions. She pulled on her robe and padded down the hallway. Her hair was a mess and she couldn't help but smile at S'worrell.

"Good morning, Master." She said softly as she watched him work in the kitchen.

She would wait to see if he brought up the disturbance last night, she only hoped it hadn't been because of her.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell nodded as he saw Lee enter the main living space of their shared domicile, glad to see that she seemed more-or-less unscathed by his night-time fits. He was glad that he’d had the foresight to place her room so far away from his own—as he felt certain, from the mess he’d woken to, that anyone sharing a bed with him would have been burned to cinders. While he poured the fresh-squeezed orange juice into a goblet he pondered on how much he should—or wanted to confide in her.

He certainly didn’t want to terrify the poor girl.

Lee was an ideal slave in many ways—respectful, diligent, eager to learn—even setting aside her incredible skill as an empath. For now, he resolved to compensate for how much he wasn’t telling her with retail therapy.

“Have you thought at all about where you’d like to shop for clothes? Money is no object,” S’worrell inquired, setting her glass of juice and mug of coffee down at the place by his side that she’d chosen, “Paris? Florence? I know you young girls enjoy designer brands.”

It may have been an oversimplification, but S’worrell was still somewhat out of practice when it came to relating to mortals. He was pleased to discuss anything that wasn’t related to the episode that had plagued him in the early hours of morning.

S’worrell set a cast-iron pan onto a section of rock, glowing red from an actively flowing lava tube just below. He used a large, sharp, Henkel carving knife to cut four generous cuts of bacon from a slab that he kept in a basin of brine just behind the stove, placing the large portion of pig flesh back into the seasoned water as the cuts in the pan began to sizzle and pop.

“I hope the temperature didn’t bother your sleep,” S’worrell shredded two whole potatoes between his claws, dropping the shards into the pool of hot bacon grease where they would fry into what some called hash browns, “I know it does get warm in the mornings.”

It was a subtle inquiry to find out if he’d disturbed her with his fits. Perhaps he ought to have left well enough alone but he somehow wished that she might reassure him that she’d slept through the entire episode. It didn’t occur that she might have been being polite.

Within moments he was plating the bacon and hash browns, cracking two brown eggs to fry in the bacon grease and flipping them swiftly as the pan was exceedingly hot by now. Each plate got an over-easy egg before he brought the plates back to the table.

“I’ve really enjoyed having you here, Lee. It’s been decades since I shared my sanctum with anyone. Now that I have, I’m glad it was you.”

 

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Leanna watched in fascination as S'worrell worked on breakfast. He didn't mention the disturbance in the early morning right away and Leanna was too busy being wide eyed over his proclamation that money was no object, to notice. She'd barely ever gone shopping in a large city mall, let alone been able to afford to go to the places he mentioned. She was starting to feel a little sheltered when she spoke.

"I...I'm sure either of those places would be fine." She finally said, "Honestly, a nice mall would even be okay. I don't think I've ever owned anything fancy in my life." She tried to snort as she took her seat and waited for him to finish cooking.

When he mentioned the heat she'd experienced, Leanna was glad. She wasn't even sure how she would have broached the subject if he didn't bring it up. "It did get a little....intense..." She offered finally, "it's good to know it wasn't my fault somehow..." She told him with a smile as he brought over their food. She had a feeling he wasn't being completely truthful about the happenings in the early morning, but she wasn't going to push it.

If worse came to worse, she knew there were other places in the house she could go if the heat got too intense. But she hoped at some point, S'worrell would feel comfortable enough to share with her what was really going on.

Leanna had begun to eat when S'worrell spoke again. His words made her blush as she lowered her head. In truth, Leanna had never felt so safe. Even in her short time with S'worrell, he'd shown her more kindness and consideration than anyone ever had.

"I've really enjoyed being here too. You've been so generous and kind, I really do appreciate it, Master." She told him once she was able to look at him once more without blushing. An idea popped into her mind and Leanna's eyes widened in happiness. "Maybe we could go to Paris...I know you enjoy French cuisine, maybe we could experience it there? To give me a better idea of what it's supposed to taste like? I feel like it would be hard to do justice to those recipes if I don't know how they're supposed to taste."

Leanna could care less about expensive shopping. She needed clothes, but the experience of being in a place like Paris, was almost too enticing. "I've also never really been to anywhere like that...if we could maybe...do some sightseeing?" She offered in a small voice. She knew she was asking alot, but she hoped he would understand that it came from a place of curiosity, not manipulation. "But I also know you must be very busy. So if there's no time, I understand." She added hastily.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell laughed out loud when Lee mentioned “sightseeing.” It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with the term or the practice—it was just something that no longer occurred to him. Her hesitancy to request such a menial thing only added to his humorous reaction to her heartfelt request. He composed himself quickly, not wanting Lee to mistake his laughter for coming at her expense.

“Oh, Lee. You shall see such sights…” S’worrell regained his composure, laying out the plates of food and taking his seat at the head of the table, “sights that most could scarcely imagine shall be yours to behold. The conventional restrictions of travel no longer apply to you. We can enjoy lunch in Tuscany and dinner in France, if you please. We can watch the sunset from the top of mount Everest and fall asleep under the northern lights in Scandinavia! Stop thinking so small, Lee. The world shall hereafter exist in the palm of your hand—do not be bound by the constraints of lesser mortals. You are a being of magic and good fortune, do not shrink away from your inner prowess.”

With that, S’worrell began eating with purpose, he was determined to show Lee the world in a way that would make her understand her new place in it, but there was an issue… he couldn’t exactly parade her into the Gucci Garden wearing a silk robe—no matter how good it looked on her body. They would need something to dress her in before they left—which posed something of a problem, even for S’worrell. He couldn’t exactly produce clothes out of thin air.

Just then, as if summoned by S’worrell’s self-doubts, Oberrion the Wind-Whisperer swept into the room on a gust of supernatural magic. S’worrell rose from the table so fast that he tipped his chair clattering behind him, physically readying himself for a fight. Oberrion was not a welcome guest in this sanctum.

“Hello old friend! Glad to see you looking so well—and your new toy,” Oberrion tipped his elaborate top hat in Leanna’s direction, it seemed to be made from leopard fur—except that it was navy blue and showed no signs of being dyed, “seems that you two are getting along well.”

Oberrion raised his hand and brought it down again, pantomiming a cane that instantly appeared in his hand at the moment it should have struck the ground, it did. The handle of the cane was joined to a long, silver chain made from jewelry links, leading up to the collar of a girl who was painfully yanked into the volcanic sanctum wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare panties and a layer of filth.

“I’m pleased to know that you can still get it up, old frie—”

“I am no friend of yours!” S’worrell bellowed, the temperature inside the volcanic lair rose noticeably, “speak your business and begone—otherwise, prepare yourself to be joined in combat.”

For emphasis, S’worrell extended his arm, telepathically throwing the toppled chair against the wall with enough force to shatter it instantly. The rough-hewn, iron nails rose up from the wreckage of the chair and began to circle Oberrion ominously, the points aimed at him.

Oberrion’s slave whimpered softly and began to hop from one foot to the other as the ground beneath her began to heat up.

“Always so dramatic…” Oberrion sighed, casually removing his overcoat, which was a deep purple and lined with a lavish silk layer that was painted to resemble an exaggerated map of the stars and planets. He draped his coat over the arm of the chair next to Leanna, “we were friends once, S’worrell. I hope that we might be again. I’ve come merely to offer a trade…”

“You have nothing that I covet!”

“Perhaps not, but I have something you might enjoy. This one here, she used to be a gymnast—you should see the way she can bend! If you let me use your toy for a while, I would—”

Suddenly a nail shot through the air, breaking the chain off of the handle of Oberrion’s cane.

“For the sake of our past, I’ve spared your life,” S’worrell’s voice was a low rumble, like the growling of a tiger, “but if you finish that sentence I’ll douse you in magma—our past be damned.”

“Don’t you care what your girl thinks?” Oberrion reached out for her hand—only to have a nail shoot through his gloved hand, his blood hissed as it landed on the hot lava rocks, “Damnit!”

“Get out! Or the next one goes through your eye!”

“Fine, I’ll just grab my—” another nail stopped his reach, pinning the collar of the jacket to the chair.

“It’s not yours anymore. I’m claiming it as recompence for disturbing my sanctum and offending my protégé.”

“Protégé? So it’s true! You’re passing your skills along—to a mortal?!? How could you be so wasteful? You must reconsider!”

Suddenly three nails struck the ground, forcing Oberrion back from the table to avoid having his feet punctured. He still held his wrist below where the nail had struck his hand. Using his own telekinesis, Oberrion slowly, painfully extracted the nail, dropping it onto the ground where his blood hissed once more on landing.

“I’m beginning to reconsider letting you leave,” S’worrell snarled, the remaining nails spinning faster in the air.

“Selfish to the last,” Oberrion spat, “this isn’t over!”

On a gust of wind Oberrion and his slave were gone. The jacket left behind.

“I’m sorry you had to see that—but at least you have something to wear on our journey tonight,” S’worrell was visibly out of breath as his hand moved to the table for stability. The nails tumbled to the ground and the heat subsided quickly, “though I may need a moment to recover.”

S’worrell looked up at Lee, hoping that he succeeded in lightening the tense moment.

 

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At first, Leanna had thought S'worrell was going to tease her about wanting such a mundane thing, but his demeanor seemed to shift as he expounded on the travels they could enjoy. Leanna tried not to look too wide eyed as he described the ease with which they could travel. The places he mentioned Leanna had only read about or heard about in movies. She mentally set to work trying to list all of the places she'd ever read about and wished she could visit.

"Thank you Master...I'm not even sure where I would start..." She was about to say more when a whipping wind seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The way S'worrell shot up from his seat sent a jolt of fright through Leanna. When she beheld the man before her, she could tell right away that there was bad blood between them. She remained silent as the exchange carried on and Oberrion brought his slave into the sanctum. Leanna's eyes went wide at the pure despair radiating from the mostly naked woman.

It was as if she was seeing how her life could have turned out if S'worrell hadn't purchased her. The sight and the feeling made tears prick at her eyes as S'worrell began to defend her against this obvious brute. When he reached for her hand, Leanna shrunk back in obvious disgust, but S'worrell was at the ready to defend her. She couldn't describe the warmth that bubbled up within her when he called her his protégé, but it did a bit to cut through the hopelessness that she was feeling from the other slave.

When S'worrell claimed Oberrion's coat for her, she sent the man a satisfied smile. When he vanished Leanna was shaking her head. As she saw S'worrell seemingly drained from the encounter, she stood from her chair and stepped closer to him. "Is there anything I can do to help, Master?" She asked softly, she almost reached out to touch his arm in comfort, but stopped herself. She didn't want to risk draining him more by accidentally using her gift on him.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

S’worrell saw Lee hesitate to touch him, but a welcoming gesture from his hand invited her aid. There was nothing he was feeling that he wanted to shield her from—in fact, it might be useful for her to learn the feeling of overuse at the same time she learned to harness and control her gifts. If she absorbed some of his mistrust for Oberrion, that too could prove useful.

“Thank you, Lee,” S’worrell sighed, sinking back into his chair, “don’t worry over me too much, I merely over-extended myself for a moment there. Our adventures will not be disrupted by that bastard’s display of entitlement.”

A hoarse chuckle followed, in what S’worrell hoped would be a reassuring gesture. He gently patted her arm and leaned forward in his chair. He extended his arm, drawing his staff up from the corner of the room and propelling it into his hand with such force and speed that its passing tossed Lee’s long, brown hair for a moment.

“In the desk in your room, there should be a decent sized piece of white chalk. Bring it here. Now that I’ve expended myself, I would enlist your assistance with our transit,” S’worrell nodded toward the hallway that led to her room.

While he waited for her to return, S’worrell dug his thumbnail into the wood of his staff and subtly bit the small sliver of wood from his claw. His eyes drifted closed and with some agonizing cracks and crunching noises he seemed to absorb his jagged bones back into his body and compress his long maw into an aged—but average-looking human face.

He’d hoped to have the strength to guise himself as someone young and attractive, as a treat for Lee, but with the conflict from before, an old man was the best he could muster.

“Now, draw the shape of a door with the chalk—right on the floor, yes. Just there,” S’worrell gestured with his staff, “yes, a knob too. Don’t spare the chalk, we have plenty. Good, now you may put on that jacket—if you please. It ought to be comfortable and smell good—given that braggart’s fascination with expensive fragrances.”

S’worrell retook his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. He drew some runes with the staff down the center of the door and when he tapped the knob, the floor began to shift and melt like black sand falling through a sieve until the door became a three-dimensional object, the lava rock resembling wrought iron and wood.

“Take my arm, Lee. We’ll begin in Florence, a good place for fashion and sights! The birthplace of the Renaissance and the Medici’s seat of power,” S’worrell draped his arm around Lee’s waist and crouched over the door—which was now a tangible thing, “hold on tight!”

The knob turned, a gust of wind seemed to sweep S’worrell forward and through the door, he found his feet easily, accustomed to this sort of gravity shift—he held Lee close, as sme might be less used to falling through the floor to her feet.

The two of them emerged from a doorway just steps from the Piazza della Signoria, streets cobbled in stones and crowded with marble and brass sculptures. At one corner sat the Uffizi, lined with statues of great academics and philosophers. Just several paces away, Perseus held the severed head of Medusa aloft in green rusted bronze.

The whole plaza was ringed with cafes and wine shops, shoulder to shoulder with designer boutiques. Near the central clocktower, the exclusive showcase known as Gucci Gardens was lit from within.

It was early evening on this side of the globe and in front of the giant, marble Poseidon fountain, children launched helicopter toys lined with colorful LED lights, letting them slowly spin their way down, like cheaply made falling stars.

“Let’s find you some clothes,” S’worrell nodded, leading her toward the Gucci boutique.

 

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With his welcoming gestured, Leanna laid her hand onto his forearm. A sudden feeling of pure exhaustion rolled down their connection. She could feel the tinge of anger mixed in with the bone tired feeling. When she pulled her hand away, she was glad of S'worrell's pat of reassurance. She couldn't stop the sound of surprise that escaped her at the feeling of his staff whipping by her.

Her surprise was quickly conquered as she was instructed to go fetch chalk that she hadn't known was there. She immediately moved to do as she was told and had soon returned to the dinning room with the hunk of rough hewn chalk. She listened to S'worrell's further instructions, and nearly chuckled. It seemed silly to her that it would be as easy as drawing a door on the floor, but she did as she was bade.

Her door was mostly a rectangle and the knob wasn't too lopsided for being a circle. When she looked up at him, she realized he wasn't his normal self, but wearing the guise she had originally met him in. She moved to pull on the colorful coat and sighed at the scent that invaded her senses. It was mix of leather and spice and reminded Leanna of what a sexy cowboy might smell like.

Leanna watched as S'worrell got to his feet and began to move to her drawing. She watched in wonder as glowing runes began to materialize on her drawing and the door began to come into being. As if it had always been there. She moved to his side and soon felt the comfort of his body close to hers. Even though he wasn't his monstrous self, something about him felt familiar, even in this form. She held tight to him and closed her eyes as she felt him turn the knob.

The sensation was terrifying. Leanna was sure he could feel her holding tightly to him as the strange sensations finally began to dissolve. The sounds of the city suddenly assaulted her ears and Leanna finally opened her eyes once more. The pure beauty before her made her gasp loudly. She wanted to drink in the whole scene, from the statues to the colors of the evening sky emerging.

S'worrell's words brought her back to the task at hand and she couldn't help but hug him close for a moment. "This is all almost too much, Master." She said softly as they walked across aged stones to the shiny façade of the store. Leanna knew she would stick out like a sore thumb if she went into the store looking like a doe eyed child. She put on her best 'I'm too rich to talk to you' face, and let S'worrell open the gilded door for her.

They were greeted by three women in matching black outfits, their hair was perfectly coifed and their makeup impeccable. They took one look at the pair and began to speak in Italian. Leanna got the distinct impression that this wasn't quite a store you just waltz in to by stuff off the street. She kept a disinterested look on her face even as she began to scan all of the lovely things on display within the posh store.