Your pleasure account is overdrawn

[EnviousGeorge]

Teleportation was not a form of travel Jalveth enjoyed: when expected it was a jarring experience, but when it came out of nowhere it was nauseating. The problem was that the Magisters of the Collective operated on their own schedule with scant regard for others. Jalveth took in the sumptuous furnishings of the Magister’s parlour as he tried to keep the remains of his lunch from adding to the decoration.

“I take it you know why you are here?” stated the figure sat at an expansive desk without looking up from his paperwork.

“No my lord,” replied Jalveth meekly and with good reason: a Magister’s word was law and they had enough power to administer any punishment they so chose. Childhood stories of what they do to those who wronged them leapt to the forefront of his mind, which he tried to repress as he hadn’t done anything wrong that might justify any form of punishment, had he?

A piece of parchment levitated from the cluttered desk and floated in front of his face; it was a fairly long list: ‘Silver Goblin Trading’, ‘Griffin Claw Holdings’, ‘Black Root Alchemicals’ and others were written in a clear hand.

“This is a list of accounts I administer.” said Jalveth confused, but in a contrite a fashion as he could muster.

“Did you think it wouldn’t be noticed,” said the figure, looking at Jalveth for the first time since his arrival. “A crystal here, a couple of crystals there, not enough for one organisation to really notice but overall they do mount up…”

“But I…” Jalveth began before a wave of paralysis suffused his entire being resulting in sudden breathlessness and a stiffness through his muscles, and to his embarrassment a similar reaction from his genitalia.

“Do not interrupt,” admonished the Magister, “I am told you have a head for figures, I would have thought you more capable of covering your tracks than this; and so unoriginal, such scams have been around forever, they are even older than I.”

Jalveth unable to respond was unsure how he would have if he could: he had known nineteen summers and the figure before him barely looked much older; but this was a Magister and appearances were almost certainly misleading.

“We expect our computers to be intelligent, so what made you think you could get away with it?” the Magister asked looking directly at Jalveth.

If the rest of his appearance did not bely his age the same could not be said of the Magister’s eyes: the black pools looked as though they had seen stars die and possibly caused them to do so. “There must be some mistake,” Jalveth squeaked, “those accounts were fine, with no crystal unaccounted for.”

“Are you saying a Magister is wrong?” the man said in what seemed to be a friendly inquisitive tone.

Jalveth knew better than to trust the friendly demeanour; his heart was racing as his body felt like it was betraying him: it felt hot and constrained in his clothes, not to mention he was so hard it was throbbing despite the situation, was there something about the Magister’s voice that made him feel this way? Jalveth couldn’t discount the possibility.

Not that his mind was faring much better, it kept speculating on what punishments the Magister may enforce that Jalveth had trouble focusing on the situation he found himself in. “Of course not my lord,” he found himself saying, “merely that you have not been given all the information,” and wondered to himself just how he would justify that claim.

“So enlighten me,” said the Magister with a tone that suggested there was nothing he didn’t already know, “who else had access to those accounts? One of your colleagues perhaps?”

“No-one at the Counting House could have done it, would have done it,” replied Jalveth emphatically, “they are my friends, my family they have been nothing but helpful since I arrived at the Collective.”

“And you are sure of this?” said the Magister clearly showing his view on the matter.

“Only one bonded to the accounts would be able to change them.” said Jalveth firmly, “the only one bonded is…” and he trailed off as he realised the implications while the Magister just smiled at him. “Please,” Jalveth begged, “let me speak to my colleagues, maybe they will have some idea how this has happened.”

“Oh you won’t be returning to the Counting House.” said the Magister, “By your own admission it is clear you are responsible: either it is deliberate for which you need punishing or accidental which shows you to be a liability; either way you cannot be trusted to look after the finances of others.”

“But my smarts, my skill with numbers, that’s all I have,” wailed Jalveth as he prostrated himself before the Magister. Bringing his hands together in a begging gesture caused an audible ripping noise from his tunic and Jalveth looked at his body for the first time since his arrival. The reason for the constrained feeling was now obvious: he was larger than he should be, his slim scrawny build was replaced by a somewhat more athletic one.

“There are many ways to serve the Collective,” said the Magister, “and if your suitability is wrong then we can easily change it, there are many positions that require less cerebral acumen and more physical presence such as soldier or labourer or…”

“Please don’t make me a pleasure slave!” Jalveth begged crying.

“Oh so you know about the pleasure slaves then,” the Magister stated, “just by reputation, or have you partaken?”

“My colleagues organised it, they said it was a rite of passage.” replied Jalveth but his focus was diverted by the figure that had magically appeared in the chamber.

He was magnificent: large powerful legs supported a strongly defined core, but still with a fairly narrow waist, which in turn were surmounted by a pair of pronounced pectorals that competed for space with a pair of massive arms, but the crowning achievement was the huge organ protruding from his groin. It arced up through the deep valley of the pecs and stopped just below where a beautiful face was waiting.

It was only the expression and look behind the eyes that let the figure down for Jalveth: there was little sign of intelligence or even awareness there. The figure had not reacted to its translocation and it seemed was awaiting any sort of instruction for a while, which means it stood motionless for some time. Eventually, whether it finally realised nothing was forthcoming, or more likely just following its baser instincts moved to take the massive head of its member in its mouth and started pleasing itself. Jalveth watched mesmerised as the figure bounced its pecs, together and separately, to stimulate the shaft of its immense penis in complete oblivion to its surroundings.

Not that the figure was the only one. “I said what was it like to be fucked by a pleasure slave,” said the Magister testily, completely ignoring the figure’s arrival.

“Huh,” said Jalveth distracted, “but I didn’t…” and when his brain caught up to his mouth felt the need to clarify: “I wanted to but it was so large and I got scared and just spent the time worshipping his body.”

“You do know they are ensorcelled to provide only pleasure and no pain?” Asked the Magister in a flat tone to which Jalveth gave a slow calculated nod. “Ensorcelled by a Magister, so which is it you doubt, our skill or our power?”

Jalveth doubted neither as both were clearly evident in the way his tunic burst in multiple places from the strain, he could feel his bulging biceps resting on his protruding chest, neither adjective would anyone have considered attributing to Jalveth before now. His breeches had so far still remained intact but it was clear they would not remain so if he underwent another growth spurt. The bulge at the front was large and the confined space was beginning to pinch uncomfortably.

“Ah I see how it is, this all makes sense,” said the Magister looking at Jalveth who was exploring the changes in his body with his hands, but his eyes were still focussed on the activities of the third person in the room. “It is because you are jealous of the pleasure slaves.” the Magister said as a statement of fact and not a question.

“Well who wouldn’t be?” replied Jalveth, “after all they were made by the Magisters as perfect physical specimens. Are you doubting the Magister’s skill? Or their power?” Jalveth groaned internally as he realised what he had just uttered, how stupid was he to rile one who had so much power, Jalveth braced himself for the inevitable consequences.

Which never came, instead the Magister just laughed, “I suppose I could have phrased that better, tell me were you happy in the Counting House?”

Jalveth nearly blurted out ‘of course’ but thought better of it, “I had a job I could do easily, colleagues that supported me, and it paid enough to meet my needs.” Jalveth eventually said carefully choosing his words.

“But did that make you happy?” said the Magister in a tone that was clear that he knew the answer but wanted to hear Jalveth say it.

“No,” Jalveth admitted, “the work was dull, I did it because I could and not because I wanted to; my colleagues were friendly because they were my colleagues and not because of me and while my needs were met there was little extra for anything else.”

“And then you met a pleasure slave, you thought you would be the superior one in the situation despite his physical attributes you were the free one, the one with the intellect; however, you realised that of the two of you only he was happy with his life and you were envious of that.” explained the Magister.

“But he was so stupid,” retorted Jalveth, “all he could do was grunt or talk in a monosyl…, a mono…, in one word answers and only then about his body or sex.”

At the mention of the word sex the third person in the room ceased their self-ministrations and moved towards Jalveth seductively; the giant ever-erect penis bouncing back and forth as he moved until he came to a stop in front of Jalveth and took up a pose that showed off his muscular body. Jalveth gulped involuntarily as he forced himself not to lean forward, not to touch and was fighting an impulse to join him in flexing. The Magister continued to act as though the other man was not even in the room.

“Really, you were stuck in a role you despised in a life you thought had no meaning, whereas he was someone who really enjoyed his work, who would be thrilled to be in the company of his colleagues and whose needs and desires were both met without his input. That is what you were jealous of, that is why you wanted to be him.” elucidated the Magister.

“But I don’t want to be dumb, my intelligence, my skill with numbers is all I have, it’s all I am!” Jalveth exclaimed, tears running down his face.

“But has that intelligence ever made you happy, or is it what is holding you back from getting what you really want?” The Magister began. Jalveth opened his mouth to respond but stopped when the Magister raised his hand. “It was your ‘intelligence’ that stopped you experiencing the joys of that pleasure slave. It is the same ‘intelligence’ that is trying to plan a way out of this but is ignoring your desires, it is not even realising they are showing themselves anyway.”

Jalveth looked confused and was surprised when the pleasure slave gently wiped the tears from his eyes. The Magister continued, “ You were the one to suggest being turned into a pleasure slave, in fact it is what you have been thinking about since you arrived in my chamber; I wonder if your subconscious forced you to make those mistakes to bring us to this outcome.”

“But I didn’t, I wouldn’t…” Jalveth sobbed, “I don’t know what you want from me?”

“Simple,” answered the Magister, “I just want you to tell me what you want, what you really want.”

Jalveth knew he was stuck, his strategy had been to tell the Magister exactly what he wanted to hear, but clearly what the Magister wanted to hear was what was clearly something that was not intelligent to say; as such his thoughts led in circles as his brain tried to find a way out of the contradiction.

In the confusion this meant that his mouth was operating unsupervised, “I want to be a pleasure slave,” Jalveth mumbled quietly.

“Sorry what was that?” said the Magister who had clearly heard what he said.

“I want to be a pleasure slave!” Jalveth said louder and with more conviction, “I want to be so dumb that I don’t know what a number is, let alone what to do with one! And I want to be so big that anyone who sees me will be awestruck to the point where they can’t think of them either! I want to spend my days having sex with anyone, with everyone! But most of all I want to be happy!”

“There, that wasn’t so difficult,” said the Magister, “I think you deserve a reward for your honesty.” and with that the pleasure slave moved behind Jalveth with clear intent.

Jalveth was confused, how did that make any sense? Just saying what should have been a bad idea somehow was going to see him receive the sex he had foolishly denied himself in the past? Magisters may have tremendous power but Jalveth wasn’t entirely sure of their sanity.

Not that was his most pressing concern: he was harder than he’d ever been before in his entire life; but as his breeches burst from the strain the nature of this ‘reward’ became obvious. His erection was growing at a rate that was clearly visible to the eye and from the heat that pervaded his body that growth was not limited to his sex organ.

Jalveth’s mind was not willing to go without a fight, and following his earlier declaration was repeating simple random multiplication to prove it couldn’t be banished that easily. ‘Four by twelve is forty-eight’ The pleasure slave removed the remains of Jalveth’s tattered clothing by ripping them off his body

‘Seven by eight is fifty-six’, the pleasure slave put his hand on Jalveth’s surprisingly hairy rear and Jalveth shot the biggest load of his life which stopped him thinking of anything for a while. When he came to his senses he looked down to see that his cock had reached his large hairy pecs. Jalveth had always been ashamed of his body hair and considering that both the pleasure slave in the room and the one he’d encountered earlier had smooth bodies it was a surprise that he not only retained his body hair, it was not thinned out by the muscle growth, but if anything was denser, thicker and more widespread.

‘Eight by five is fuckty… er forty’ Jalveth thought as he reached down to check on his balls, his stance had widened to accommodate the size of his legs and that gave his balls which were significantly larger, and hairier, more room. Jalveth gave them a squeeze and was rewarded with another large load.

‘Seven by four is… forty?’ Jalveth thought as he flexed a large hairy arm and watched as it grow before his eyes. ‘Six by nine is… six by nine is…, six by… sex…, sex!’ Jalveth thought as his cock was now at a point where he could easily take it into his mouth; which he did so with gusto.

What looked up after he shot yet another huge load, this time into his hungry mouth which he slurped up greedily, was in no way bothered by multiplication; with numbers at least. It looked down on the pleasure slave before it and realised he was bigger than the man in all aspects including height. “Me big,” it said eventually.

The pleasure slave took the opportunity to caress Jalveth’s furry bulk: gently stroking the soft hair across the bulging muscle. Jalveth wanted to tell him how attractive he found the man, what he wanted to do to him and what he wanted from the man but the words weren’t there. Eventually he settled on a single word that expressed all his feelings: “Fuck”

“Fuck?” came the reply from the pleasure slave.

“Fuck!” replied Jalveth with a smile and pulled the other pleasure slave into a passionate embrace.

“Oh Boys!” called a voice from near a large bed, the only furniture in the room. For some reason Jalveth had a feeling something was wrong about that, but he couldn’t see what would be wrong with a hot guy calling him over to a bed.

The Magister moved his hand and his clothing vanished revealing a tight muscular body and what would be considered a large cock in any other company, he kneeled on the large bed pushing his rear seductively in the air. A test for the new pleasure slave, which was on the way to scoring high marks as the Magister felt the tickle of a soft beard before a tongue masterfully worked at his hole.

The other pleasure slave was before him and the Magister had no hesitation in taking as much of his manhood into his mouth as he could. In other circumstances the Magister would have grown his body to match them and switched off for a night of mindless debauchery; alas he had other duties that needed attending beforehand, primarily figuring out just who had framed Jalveth in the first place.

If the young man had used the intellect he’s claimed to possess to be more suspicious of his colleagues then maybe he wouldn’t be in this position, using his tongue to devastating effect, as his naivety must have played a part in being chosen as the scapegoat. That and his appearance: Jalveth may not have realised with his insecurities but he was a very attractive man; to the extent that the Magister had little to do to his countenance in his transformation, essentially just making sure his face fit with the massive hairy muscle-bound moron he’d become, and frankly the beard had done most of that work for him.

People think that magic can do anything, and by and large it can, but it still has its limitations. Even with knowing what was done the Magister could think of seven ways that Jalveth’s credentials could have been faked and was not arrogant enough to consider that to be an exhaustive list. Add to that not knowing who, when or why led to too many variables. The Magister had a spell trying to resolve it but with the lack of information would take a long time to report; it would be very surprising indeed if framing Jalveth was the whole point of the endeavour, so it was a matter of time before the real plot revealed itself and may well do so before his spell had concluded.

So the Magister was relying more on a non-magical ploy: Jalveth. He felt the bulbous head of the new pleasure slave’s massive prick teasing his hole and the ecstatic thrill when it pushed home. Once the fate of Jalveth was announced to his colleagues the Magister expected them to lay low for a while, time they are likely to spend enjoying this very position with the new slave.

Whether it will be regret about what they have done to Jalveth, or to gloat about it and fooling a Magister the culprit will have no qualms in confessing everything to someone they know doesn’t understand what they are saying. Pleasure slaves have a built-in aura of isolation that protects their clients from attack or interference when they are at their most vulnerable. The feeling of absolution at disclosing their darkest secrets and only receiving pleasure as a response was nearly as big a draw as the pleasure the slaves could bestow.

Of course the slaves may not be able to understand but that didn’t mean the couldn’t listen, and repeat everything they heard to any curious Magister, but the populace would rather assume any information was discovered by magic. Jalveth would have his revenge, even if he now didn’t care about it, and his guilty former colleagues would learn there are worse punishments than becoming a pleasure slave.

As for Jalveth, the Magister thought as both slaves unloaded in him simultaneously, he was too exquisite a prospect to relinquish. The Magister had considered his personal harem big enough but knew that when this was resolved there would be a place for Jalveth, one where he would have the very happy life he wished for.

[Pumped]

Interesting. It’s a very cerebral take on of the most basest of human instincts: envy, lust, desire.

Hopefully you will continue, there is more story to tell  

It seems the Magister still has some traps to set to obtain the confession he seeks. It doesn’t go unnoticed that the Magister has a wicked and self serving method of problem solving. So what if he benefits from a sexual favor or two in the process as long as it gets the job done?

it’s good to be him. 

[Garroh]

I look forward to reading more if there is more to the story

Edited April 18 by Garroh
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