Aftercare
Opinions sought: too much aftercare or not enough? For that matter, too much scene or not enough?
Warning: both m/f and m/m bdsm. Long, graphic scene that's part of a novel and missing context.
Jordan tossed the flogger over onto the work table, careful to miss both his robe and the dozen small stones that waited there. He leaned one hip against the well anchored whipping bench and fed his slick fingers to Joanne, who looked like she was getting pretty desperate, herself. With just the tips of the fingers of his other hand, he stroked very gently over the red lines on Halia’s back.
“Well done, Halia. Good girl.” The shiver he got in reply was very pretty, but the muffled noise he thought meant thank you was not. He’d have to get the ball gag out of her mouth soon, or her jaw would ache more than she’d like. But he needed to finish the spell, first.
He turned his attention to Joanne. “Pog?”
She had to let his fingers go to answer. “A little messy, master, but he’s fine. I’m ready.”
He stroked his damp fingers over her cheek and let her nuzzle them a moment. She did indeed look ready, kneeling on the faded cushion, breath coming heavily but hands resting lightly on the big wooden box before her. He studied it for a moment, checking that the magic he’d worked into it so far was exactly what he’d intended. It was the most complex construct he’d attempted, and this final spell would pull it all together and make it work. It was ready, Joanne was ready, and the spell that hung unfinished was ready. Good. Jordan opened the front flap of his leather pants and knelt between Joanne’s knees.
She began chanting the words he’d given her, the spell that would feed the magic she’d worked up with Pog over to him. The visualization and the rest of the spell was his to control. He made sure he had the image he wanted in his head, waited for his cue, and then slammed his cock deep into her damp, hot pussy on the first syllable of his own chant. She grunted, but took him without complaint and went on with the spell. The symbols chalked onto the floor in a large circle around them began to glow, and Pog whimpered on the table above him. The magic they’d gathered coalesced around him. Joanne was a perfect, tight heat around him, stroking him with her inner muscles, rushing them to completion. Good. It wasn’t a long spell. He reached under her, found the chain that linked her nipple rings, and tugged in time with her last word.
She came, hard, muscles clenching around him and spine bowing. He thrust twice more, finishing his own chant, and shot himself inside her as the magic rushed into the wooden box before them and the spell snapped into place. He found himself trembling, but not drained, and he pulled gently out and rolled his Prime to her side on the cushion. He sat beside her and panted, stroking her hip, catching his breath. He checked over the construct, found only and exactly what he expected, and grinned.
Then Pog groaned and Jordan pulled himself together. He had subs to see to. He pulled the rag from his beltloop, cleaned himself quickly and did up his pants. He dropped the rag in front of Joanne, tucked the pillow he had ready under her head, and kissed her so she wouldn’t forget she was appreciated. Then he moved on to Pog.
Their sweet boy was on the high bench, ropes crossing his torso in an intricate pattern and almost coincidentally binding his arms down along his sides. More ropes criss crossed along his legs, stretching them wide and binding them up to rings on the ceiling. Jordan took a moment to check for injuries from his paddling and the harsh clamps Joanne had used on his nipples, then set about untying the knots that would lower his legs. The ropes would take longer to remove, so Jordan let him rest a moment and turned to Halia to get the gag off his second girl. He checked her for injuries, too, and unbuckled the wide belt that covered her kidneys and held her tightly to the bench.
Joanna joined him and they got both slaves freed without much trouble. The rope took time, but Jordan had been careful with the knots and none had tightened. When he finally had them all loose, he gathered them close on the cushions, letting them rest against him.
“Did it work?” That was Halia, always so eager for results, even while she was still hurting from a rough session and was tucked into her master’s side.
Jordan raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m more worried about your hide, little girl. Want some of that ointment?”
“No sir. Thank you.” She turned to grin up at him. “I’d like to keep this warmth and ache for a while.”
He kissed her forehead and turned to Pog. “What about you, sweet boy?”
The boy had curled on his side with his head in Jordan’s lap and had been petting his leather clad leg restlessly. He blinked up at his master. “I’m good sir. Thank you.” By which he meant he really needed a cuddle.
Joanne, who was wrapped in his other arm, reached out to the boy and tugged him gently up into Jordan’s lap. Jordan gave her a kiss for a reward, then accepted one from Pog before he settled in against his master’s chest. It was a good way to rest, all comfortably surrounded by warm, contented subs.
No, by warm, contented slaves. That three people depended on him for everything, not just their kinky needs, was a little sobering. When he’d first gotten here, he’d been overwhelmed by the fairy tale feel of the whole world. But he’d seen some things, since then. The gratitude of the little boy who’d understood how much work was involved in keeping a school warm. The hard labor needed to keep this pre-industrial society supplied and the free people who knew the value of their jobs. The craftsmen who put pride in their work as well as sweat. The vigilance of Alvarden’s guards, who knew that robbers would take what they could by force. The violence that had left a small family near death at the roadside. The laws that provided for basic schooling for every child. The rivalry provoked and cruel kidnapping that had led to his meeting Jon in the first place. The capital city with its mix of beauty and squalor had helped make everything feel real and somehow normal to him.
When he had been introduced to the king, it hadn’t been a huge ceremony with courtiers looking on and his name being shouted so everyone could hear. It had been a matter of following a young man to a well lit conference room, bowing at Alvarden’s side, and being introduced exactly what he was - Alvarden’s apprentice and a man who came from another world. And the king, in his simple golden circlet instead of some ornate crown, had accepted that at face value and only asked him for some details of the story, inquired whether or not he was settling, and then had welcomed him to the kingdom. Then he’d listened to the two of them talk about borders, watches, and the spells that allowed the king to keep patrols in the right places and send the army where it was needed in time to fend off the infrequent attackers.
Alvarden, and the other mages he’d met in the capitol, helped keep this kingdom safe. Not only that, but they did some magic simply because it was needed, like the healing that he’d helped with outside the city. Yes, they charged for their services, and most of them were very well compensated. But from the way Alvarden’s circle of mage friends talked, he thought they’d likely do at least some of those spells whether they got paid or not. And the king had treated Alvarden like a friend, not a contractor. Most people he’d met had been basically good people doing what they could to make things better, whether that meant safer and easier or just more beautiful, more joyful.
Some of the fairy tale gloss might have worn off his view of the world, but Jordan realized that he actually liked it even more. Yes, there were things he missed. His bike, his business, some of his old friends. But he had new friends, a beautiful big black mare to ride, and new work as a mage. He could make a difference here, help make things better for children and laborers and the people who kept them all safe.
He looked at the construct he’d made. It had taken time to research the spells he’d needed and more time to work through how to make them all function together the way he wanted them to. He’d helped build the box itself, although an artisan in the village had done all of the carving that decorated its mostly open front side and the shallow tray on the top. He’d paid the woodworker by magically drying some fine grained wood in a way that wouldn’t warp or crack it. The little stone focuses on the table had taken time and sweat and magic and multiple sessions with each of his slaves and some of Alvarden’s as well. Dane and Joanna and Alvarden had all helped him figure out exactly what he needed, and each had contributed to the stone focuses as well. It had been a real learning experience. But even if it worked, the only thing it would do is play the illusions recorded in the focus stones like a cross between a television and an mp3 player. It would take putting in a bit of magic first to even make that happen. Was it really worth anything to the people here?
A soft knock on his work room’s heavy door broke into his nearly maudlin train of thought. He slid part of his awareness though his bond with Joanne and into her bond with the castle to see who it was. Dane, with Lark and probably Kyle, juice and a snack. He dropped the protective circle and invited them in. His slaves stirred around him. He let Halia and Joanne go, but wrapped both arms around Pog and snuggled him even closer. The boy nearly purred his contentment, and Joanne gave him a smile for it.
“It went well?” Dane asked, coming around the high bench to get a look at the box.
“The spells did. I haven’t tested the construct.” Jordan took the glass of juice Joanne handed him and put it in Pog’s hands. The boy drank dutifully, making Jordan feel a bit like purring, himself.
“It looks good.” Dane motioned Kyle forward. “Tell me what you see, Kyle.”
Dane was starting to sound a lot like Alvarden. Kyle responded very well to that, too. He spent a moment looking hard at the box. “I think that it’s a triggering mechanism with an amplifying spell. It seems to be limited to illusions, and the inside has a light spell, as well.”
“That’s what I had planned, yes.” Jordan accepted another glass of juice from Joanne and pointed at the table. “Would you test it, Prime?”
Dane came around to kneel near Jordan, seemingly unconcerned about the cold stone floor. The others joined them while Joanna picked out one of the stones. She knew what to do. She’d listened to all the plans for the construct, after all. She dropped the stone through the carved hole, waited until it settled into the cup below, then sent a little power into the construct. It took no more than it would have to heat one of the castle’s teapots. But the results were much more startling to most of the slaves around them.
First came the drumbeats, then the strains of electric guitar, joined by the bass for a long lead in. Then Joe Walsh’s voice, just as he remembered it, belted out the lyrics to “Life’s Been Good”. Inside the box were images of things from that other world, the ocean, the mountains, bikes he’d owned and people he’d known. It was a slide show of Jordan’s own past, taken straight out of his memories. It had three dimensions and movement, and in a couple of places, where it wouldn’t interfere with the song, it had sound effects. When the song was done, the bowl inside the box tipped and the stone dropped into a drawer so it could be retrieved later. The construct worked perfectly.
Dane grinned at him. “Nice job.”
“Thanks. Not sure what it’s good for besides entertainment, but it works.” Jordan grinned back.
Joanne nodded. “Very little magic is needed to operate it. And the memory stones require a very simple spell. Almost any low level mage could make them, and anyone with a small gift could activate them. It would be a good way to send detailed messages, especially when you need to show someone something.”
“Or need them to hear.” Halia was nodding too, following along.
Jordan rested his chin on Pog’s head, thinking. “A touch of a truth spell would be needed to make it a reliable message system. Dane did fiction, after all.”
“A tell tale glow, maybe.” Dane nodded. “Still planning on putting it out in the main hall?”
Jordan shrugged. “Alvarden’s study might be a better place. We could all use it as a teaching tool that way.”
“And you’d have music to read to when you wanted it.” Joanna knelt behind him and began rubbing tension he didn’t know was still there out of his shoulders. She had a point. All three mages did a lot of work in Alvarden’s study.
“I was thinking more that he might have some ideas to utilize it, too.” Jordan gave Pog a squeeze and then dumped him out of his lap. “Alright, show and tell is over. There’s rope to put away and tables to clean before lunch. And I have to take this new toy up and show my teacher. Get back to work.”
Warning: both m/f and m/m bdsm. Long, graphic scene that's part of a novel and missing context.
Jordan tossed the flogger over onto the work table, careful to miss both his robe and the dozen small stones that waited there. He leaned one hip against the well anchored whipping bench and fed his slick fingers to Joanne, who looked like she was getting pretty desperate, herself. With just the tips of the fingers of his other hand, he stroked very gently over the red lines on Halia’s back.
“Well done, Halia. Good girl.” The shiver he got in reply was very pretty, but the muffled noise he thought meant thank you was not. He’d have to get the ball gag out of her mouth soon, or her jaw would ache more than she’d like. But he needed to finish the spell, first.
He turned his attention to Joanne. “Pog?”
She had to let his fingers go to answer. “A little messy, master, but he’s fine. I’m ready.”
He stroked his damp fingers over her cheek and let her nuzzle them a moment. She did indeed look ready, kneeling on the faded cushion, breath coming heavily but hands resting lightly on the big wooden box before her. He studied it for a moment, checking that the magic he’d worked into it so far was exactly what he’d intended. It was the most complex construct he’d attempted, and this final spell would pull it all together and make it work. It was ready, Joanne was ready, and the spell that hung unfinished was ready. Good. Jordan opened the front flap of his leather pants and knelt between Joanne’s knees.
She began chanting the words he’d given her, the spell that would feed the magic she’d worked up with Pog over to him. The visualization and the rest of the spell was his to control. He made sure he had the image he wanted in his head, waited for his cue, and then slammed his cock deep into her damp, hot pussy on the first syllable of his own chant. She grunted, but took him without complaint and went on with the spell. The symbols chalked onto the floor in a large circle around them began to glow, and Pog whimpered on the table above him. The magic they’d gathered coalesced around him. Joanne was a perfect, tight heat around him, stroking him with her inner muscles, rushing them to completion. Good. It wasn’t a long spell. He reached under her, found the chain that linked her nipple rings, and tugged in time with her last word.
She came, hard, muscles clenching around him and spine bowing. He thrust twice more, finishing his own chant, and shot himself inside her as the magic rushed into the wooden box before them and the spell snapped into place. He found himself trembling, but not drained, and he pulled gently out and rolled his Prime to her side on the cushion. He sat beside her and panted, stroking her hip, catching his breath. He checked over the construct, found only and exactly what he expected, and grinned.
Then Pog groaned and Jordan pulled himself together. He had subs to see to. He pulled the rag from his beltloop, cleaned himself quickly and did up his pants. He dropped the rag in front of Joanne, tucked the pillow he had ready under her head, and kissed her so she wouldn’t forget she was appreciated. Then he moved on to Pog.
Their sweet boy was on the high bench, ropes crossing his torso in an intricate pattern and almost coincidentally binding his arms down along his sides. More ropes criss crossed along his legs, stretching them wide and binding them up to rings on the ceiling. Jordan took a moment to check for injuries from his paddling and the harsh clamps Joanne had used on his nipples, then set about untying the knots that would lower his legs. The ropes would take longer to remove, so Jordan let him rest a moment and turned to Halia to get the gag off his second girl. He checked her for injuries, too, and unbuckled the wide belt that covered her kidneys and held her tightly to the bench.
Joanna joined him and they got both slaves freed without much trouble. The rope took time, but Jordan had been careful with the knots and none had tightened. When he finally had them all loose, he gathered them close on the cushions, letting them rest against him.
“Did it work?” That was Halia, always so eager for results, even while she was still hurting from a rough session and was tucked into her master’s side.
Jordan raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m more worried about your hide, little girl. Want some of that ointment?”
“No sir. Thank you.” She turned to grin up at him. “I’d like to keep this warmth and ache for a while.”
He kissed her forehead and turned to Pog. “What about you, sweet boy?”
The boy had curled on his side with his head in Jordan’s lap and had been petting his leather clad leg restlessly. He blinked up at his master. “I’m good sir. Thank you.” By which he meant he really needed a cuddle.
Joanne, who was wrapped in his other arm, reached out to the boy and tugged him gently up into Jordan’s lap. Jordan gave her a kiss for a reward, then accepted one from Pog before he settled in against his master’s chest. It was a good way to rest, all comfortably surrounded by warm, contented subs.
No, by warm, contented slaves. That three people depended on him for everything, not just their kinky needs, was a little sobering. When he’d first gotten here, he’d been overwhelmed by the fairy tale feel of the whole world. But he’d seen some things, since then. The gratitude of the little boy who’d understood how much work was involved in keeping a school warm. The hard labor needed to keep this pre-industrial society supplied and the free people who knew the value of their jobs. The craftsmen who put pride in their work as well as sweat. The vigilance of Alvarden’s guards, who knew that robbers would take what they could by force. The violence that had left a small family near death at the roadside. The laws that provided for basic schooling for every child. The rivalry provoked and cruel kidnapping that had led to his meeting Jon in the first place. The capital city with its mix of beauty and squalor had helped make everything feel real and somehow normal to him.
When he had been introduced to the king, it hadn’t been a huge ceremony with courtiers looking on and his name being shouted so everyone could hear. It had been a matter of following a young man to a well lit conference room, bowing at Alvarden’s side, and being introduced exactly what he was - Alvarden’s apprentice and a man who came from another world. And the king, in his simple golden circlet instead of some ornate crown, had accepted that at face value and only asked him for some details of the story, inquired whether or not he was settling, and then had welcomed him to the kingdom. Then he’d listened to the two of them talk about borders, watches, and the spells that allowed the king to keep patrols in the right places and send the army where it was needed in time to fend off the infrequent attackers.
Alvarden, and the other mages he’d met in the capitol, helped keep this kingdom safe. Not only that, but they did some magic simply because it was needed, like the healing that he’d helped with outside the city. Yes, they charged for their services, and most of them were very well compensated. But from the way Alvarden’s circle of mage friends talked, he thought they’d likely do at least some of those spells whether they got paid or not. And the king had treated Alvarden like a friend, not a contractor. Most people he’d met had been basically good people doing what they could to make things better, whether that meant safer and easier or just more beautiful, more joyful.
Some of the fairy tale gloss might have worn off his view of the world, but Jordan realized that he actually liked it even more. Yes, there were things he missed. His bike, his business, some of his old friends. But he had new friends, a beautiful big black mare to ride, and new work as a mage. He could make a difference here, help make things better for children and laborers and the people who kept them all safe.
He looked at the construct he’d made. It had taken time to research the spells he’d needed and more time to work through how to make them all function together the way he wanted them to. He’d helped build the box itself, although an artisan in the village had done all of the carving that decorated its mostly open front side and the shallow tray on the top. He’d paid the woodworker by magically drying some fine grained wood in a way that wouldn’t warp or crack it. The little stone focuses on the table had taken time and sweat and magic and multiple sessions with each of his slaves and some of Alvarden’s as well. Dane and Joanna and Alvarden had all helped him figure out exactly what he needed, and each had contributed to the stone focuses as well. It had been a real learning experience. But even if it worked, the only thing it would do is play the illusions recorded in the focus stones like a cross between a television and an mp3 player. It would take putting in a bit of magic first to even make that happen. Was it really worth anything to the people here?
A soft knock on his work room’s heavy door broke into his nearly maudlin train of thought. He slid part of his awareness though his bond with Joanne and into her bond with the castle to see who it was. Dane, with Lark and probably Kyle, juice and a snack. He dropped the protective circle and invited them in. His slaves stirred around him. He let Halia and Joanne go, but wrapped both arms around Pog and snuggled him even closer. The boy nearly purred his contentment, and Joanne gave him a smile for it.
“It went well?” Dane asked, coming around the high bench to get a look at the box.
“The spells did. I haven’t tested the construct.” Jordan took the glass of juice Joanne handed him and put it in Pog’s hands. The boy drank dutifully, making Jordan feel a bit like purring, himself.
“It looks good.” Dane motioned Kyle forward. “Tell me what you see, Kyle.”
Dane was starting to sound a lot like Alvarden. Kyle responded very well to that, too. He spent a moment looking hard at the box. “I think that it’s a triggering mechanism with an amplifying spell. It seems to be limited to illusions, and the inside has a light spell, as well.”
“That’s what I had planned, yes.” Jordan accepted another glass of juice from Joanne and pointed at the table. “Would you test it, Prime?”
Dane came around to kneel near Jordan, seemingly unconcerned about the cold stone floor. The others joined them while Joanna picked out one of the stones. She knew what to do. She’d listened to all the plans for the construct, after all. She dropped the stone through the carved hole, waited until it settled into the cup below, then sent a little power into the construct. It took no more than it would have to heat one of the castle’s teapots. But the results were much more startling to most of the slaves around them.
First came the drumbeats, then the strains of electric guitar, joined by the bass for a long lead in. Then Joe Walsh’s voice, just as he remembered it, belted out the lyrics to “Life’s Been Good”. Inside the box were images of things from that other world, the ocean, the mountains, bikes he’d owned and people he’d known. It was a slide show of Jordan’s own past, taken straight out of his memories. It had three dimensions and movement, and in a couple of places, where it wouldn’t interfere with the song, it had sound effects. When the song was done, the bowl inside the box tipped and the stone dropped into a drawer so it could be retrieved later. The construct worked perfectly.
Dane grinned at him. “Nice job.”
“Thanks. Not sure what it’s good for besides entertainment, but it works.” Jordan grinned back.
Joanne nodded. “Very little magic is needed to operate it. And the memory stones require a very simple spell. Almost any low level mage could make them, and anyone with a small gift could activate them. It would be a good way to send detailed messages, especially when you need to show someone something.”
“Or need them to hear.” Halia was nodding too, following along.
Jordan rested his chin on Pog’s head, thinking. “A touch of a truth spell would be needed to make it a reliable message system. Dane did fiction, after all.”
“A tell tale glow, maybe.” Dane nodded. “Still planning on putting it out in the main hall?”
Jordan shrugged. “Alvarden’s study might be a better place. We could all use it as a teaching tool that way.”
“And you’d have music to read to when you wanted it.” Joanna knelt behind him and began rubbing tension he didn’t know was still there out of his shoulders. She had a point. All three mages did a lot of work in Alvarden’s study.
“I was thinking more that he might have some ideas to utilize it, too.” Jordan gave Pog a squeeze and then dumped him out of his lap. “Alright, show and tell is over. There’s rope to put away and tables to clean before lunch. And I have to take this new toy up and show my teacher. Get back to work.”