Forgotten Art - Parting Gifts
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Forgotten Art - Part 1 - Parting Gifts
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"What a bunch of vultures," Strandivar muttered to himself, walking briskly down a corridor of his now deceased grandfather's mansion, the cape of his loose, black traveling clothes billowing behind him, rubbing against his thick rudder tail. His footpads clicked across the marble flooring, drowned out by the arguments of his relatives in other rooms as they fought over the belongings of the dead family member. The grandfather had not been very specific in his will; while the mansion itself was granted to a particular relative, and the accumulated monies divvied out among named relatives, many of the items inside the mansion were not specified on ownership, and thus, bitter disagreements were held and rivalries revived as some felt they were more deserving than the others, or were just plain being greedy. The event was only worsened due to the fact the family was so large.
The place was a rush of chaos. Family members were running to and fro, grabbing up as much as they could carry, as quickly as possible, items of value. Paintings were torn down, vases knocked down and shattered, books and carpeting strewn about as the family fought tooth and nail; the place was literally being mobbed. It had all the sounds and feel as a marketplace just prior to a big storm.
Annoyed at the whole ordeal, the whiskers on Strandivar's face visibly twitched as he went deeper into the household, the deafening noise quieting down as he approached the library. He knew his grandfather would not think highly of such an event. Honestly, Grandpa would have been laughing at the entire disorderly procession; maybe even to the point that he was crying and rolling on the ground.
Or rolling in his grave. Strandivar thought in amusement. He smiled in spite of himself. Even in death, the memory of his close relative still lifted his spirit. His grandfather was a good man, and had supported and raised Strandivar like a son. Considering that Strandivar never knew his real father, his grandfather was the closest he came to having a father figure. Sighing, he put a furred hand on the door handle of the large double oak doors that were the entrance of the mansion's library, and opened them.
His grandfather's legacy to him; books upon books of knowledge on the arcane arts, business, and various other instructional guides, as well as a large collection of artifacts, tools, and ingredients meant for mage use. The olive eyes in the otter's short, chubby face scanned the walls and shelves of the dark circular room, glossing over in reminiscence of earlier days. He took a deep breath, inhaling the heavy, musty scent of old literature. He spent many days here growing up with his grandfather, learning different mage abilities and business tricks from the master. Thinking about it, Strandivar found it funny that Grandpa would always call this the library, despite its relatively small size compared to the other rooms of the mansion (it was about 20 feet in diameter), and usage that was more suited for a study. Nonetheless, the will stated that all the items in the library now belonged to him, and this was the library.
Strandivar walked towards the center of the room, where a short, wooden circular table sat surrounded by two large cushioned chairs. There were a few books on top of the table, possibly the last thing his grandfather was studying here. He could not see the covers very well, as there were no windows in this room, the only source of light being the scystal lamp, a special light source that can only be powered by mages, and the open door behind him. The scystal lamp looked just like an ordinary modern-day ceiling lamp, but held a four-sided triangular crystal, the scystal, instead of a light bulb. With a flick of his finger and a very minute amount of concentration, a small ball of light shot from Strandivar's hand into the crystal, lighting up the scystal lamp and the room with it.
Strandivar could now see everything more clearly now, but the room was not much to look at. A mirror caught his eye that wasn't there last time he had visited, though. It was on a wall between the bookcases where he couldn't see it from the entrance. It seemed very ornate, and clashed with the simplicity of the rest of the room. Between the gold lining and jewels, a young otter at the age of 19 reflected back at him. He was average in stature, being a little above 5 and a half feet with a small amount of muscle mass, not incredibly toned, but not flabby either. The colorings of his fur were quite plain, being dark brown just about everywhere except on his lower muzzle spreading all the way down his neck, chest, abdomen and crotch along the bottom of his tail, which were light tan.
Dropping the large leather bag he had been carrying with him on the table, he decided to get to work. Since he was not physically all that strong, he would have had a problem carrying everything in this room back home, but this is where he was glad he had mage abilities. Pulling out a polished wooden box about a foot in length, he unlatched the clasp and pulled out an auburn orb out of six that were sitting in indentations inside. The orb was a bit smaller than a tennis ball, and had a very smooth, reflected surface. It had the appearance of swirling mud that had been frozen in place and polished over, and was incredibly light in weight.
Holding the orb in his outstretched fist, he concentrated on alleviating the force of reality and bending it towards his will. An uplifting feeling occurred, as if a heavy weight was just removed, and tiny plucks of electricity in his mind began to spread like hair-thin threads were being pulled free. Deep warmth flooded through Strandivar's body, and a breeze began to pick up, even though the room was closed off. Knowing that he initiated the first step, he activated the ability of the artifact he was holding.
A flash of golden light appeared, the orb transforming into a small sun in the palm of his hand, and the wind picked up in the small room. Focusing the force on the first set of bookcases, they were enveloped in a golden fire and sucked into the orb, the wind making a resounding thwoomp as the transfer into the orb completed. The orb still glowed, but was now slightly heavier. Strandivar repeated the procedure, replacing the orb with another one after doing a several bookcases, eventually emptying the room completely into 3 of the orbs.
Having completed his purpose, Strandivar made one final goodbye to the room where he experienced so much. Standing in the empty room, he felt as though it seemed to reflect his feelings about the whole thing. His grandfather would have told him he was being sappy. The corner of his mouth curling into a grin, Strandivar gathered himself up as well as his belongings, continuing his journey back through the mansion and into the chaos of the family. He was eager to get home and organize his new belongings. It was unlikely that he would ever be coming back.
* * *
It took 3 days in a horse-drawn cart to make it back to his home. He didn't want to spend the extra money for additional luxury in vehicles, and he was not yet skilled enough with his magic for use in quick travel. Strandivar was exhausted and drained, having been out on this funeral trip for a little more than a week. Still, he looked forward to getting back to his dwelling and categorizing his new library immediately. He had time, considering the cancellation of his jobs in this surprise death left him with a couple extra days without any work.
Strandivar was dropped off along a worn dirt road outside of Dovenhire, a small town that was early in development. Located near the base of a mountain, backed by forest on one side, and endless green plains split by rivers as far as the eye could see, it was a beautiful, rural area. However, he did not walk towards the town, instead moving away from it towards his property, which was the entire mountainside forest, stretching the expanse of 2 miles aside Devonhire.
Strandivar lived in a strange home by many people's standards. Set on the edge of a forest, inside a rock quarry was a large hill overgrown with grass. This hill had a single wooden door, which was the entrance to Strandivar's home, a completely underground dwelling. It was a place that would have been inconvenient for anyone who was not a mage adept in earth energies.
Strandivar had an amazing knack in these earth abilities. Controlling earth movements, rock solidarity, and having the ability to enrich soil and quicken the growth of plants came naturally to him, and he put these to good use. Such abilities were in high demand in areas of development; where he could prepare foundations for real estate, divert river flows and improve agricultural output. He was paid quite handsomely for his services, but was no where near rich as of yet, since he had only started a couple years ago, and most of his accumulated funds had gone into purchasing the rights to the land where his home lay under and the various supplies needed for its upkeep.
His entire dwelling was built from these earth abilities. Displacing the soil made the rooms, and the walls were solidified to keep moisture out, any intruders trying to dig in, and also to prevent any unwanted root systems or loose soil to enter and drop from the ceiling. Strandivar enchanted the trees of the forest above through a time consuming process, whose root systems crisscrossed throughout the walls of his dwelling. This enchantment stopped the roots of the affected trees from growing or moving without Strandivar's aid, and also granted the dwelling a source of power. The trees above gathered solar energy, and the root systems could be used much like electrical wiring as well as a heat source for warming the home. He also used the roots for creating shelves, stairways, and other decorations and uses throughout his home, not to mention additional reinforcements for the walls.
Entering in through the door of the hill, the room was dimly lit through tiny windows in a circular pattern at the top of the ceiling. Flowerless, ornamental plants lined the walls, and a straight narrow stone pathway led to a large circular opening completely closed off by roots. The roots closed and interlocked at the center, where a small indentation meant for a scystal crystal lay. The scystal crystal doubled both as a doorknob and a doorbell; knocking on it created a ringing sound that other scystal crystals in the house would resonate, and focusing energy on the crystal would cause the roots to open. Put simply, the opening could be "locked" by removing or twisting the other half of the scystal on the inside of the doorway, breaking the path of energy that would cause it to open. It could also be locked when leaving by doing the same thing on the outside. There were, of course, potential dangers to such a system. The crystal could break or someone could remove the crystal on the outside while one was on the inside among other things, but Strandivar had planned a fail-safe for many potential events.
Grabbing the scystal half from his bag and placing it into the recession, he focused the energy to open the doorway. The roots receded, and Strandivar walked in. The other side of the doorway was a small, narrow room with a stone stairway leading down located in the center of the opposite wall. On Strandivar's left were various hooks for placing clothes used for traveling, and on his right was a small table for placing things often used when going out. A window was placed on both sides of the main entrance, and one could see a few windows lining the stairway going down. Daylight streamed through the windows, another little enchantment that Strandivar purchased from another mage. Despite having the home completely underground, these enchanted windows allowed natural light to flow in, powered by the root systems of the trees. The windows did not actually see through anything, though, and Strandivar had them set so that one would see illusions of tree branches thick with oak leaves throughout the house. The windows would also reflect the weather and daylight outside.
Stradivar placed his cloak up on one of the hooks, and walked down the long stairs into the main hall. His dwelling was incredibly spacious. While he had not added very many rooms, it could easily be made into an underground mansion. The main hall spread 30 feet into the room, being 20 feet wide and 30 feet high. The floor and walls were made of smooth, polished stone, and had a milky gray color with a pattern resembling swirling clouds. The ceiling was crisscrossed with humongous roots, one of which hung down and spread out like an upside down tree in the center, holding small scystal crystals within its roots like a chandelier. At the end of the hall was a doorway surrounded by double staircase comprised entirely of roots that curved outward in the middle away from one another, each step comprised of a slab of the same stone that made the walls. The stairway curved back and met at the top, where a pathway led around the walls where the doorways to the bedrooms lay. The upstairs pathways were held up by roots as well, and protruded up in a pattern on the edge of the walkway to create an intricate banister. The floors of the above walkway were made of the same, cloudy stone. Small, candle-like protrusions of roots were lined along the walls on both floors, each holding a small scystal crystal. The walkways on both floors were adorned with red carpet decorated with curves of golden threads; the walls of the first floor had four windows, 2 on each side facing opposite of one another, between the stairways and the doorways next to the entrance of the hall.
The doorway on Strandivar's left led to the dining room, while the one on his right led into the living room. The doorway at the end of the hall led to a smaller hallway that connected the kitchen, living room, bathroom, and another stairway that led down into a storage room. Upstairs were two doorways near the corners immediately at the top of the stairs. These doors led to the 2 bedrooms of the home, which both connected to an expansive bathroom that held a large underground spring for bathing. At the end of the walkways on the 2nd story was one room on the left side, which Strandivar used as a study. He planned on adding a room on the opposite side for the library.
Sighing, Strandivar trekked through the hall and upstairs into his bedroom on the left. He was tired, but didn't really want to rest just yet. His bedroom was quite large, with a king sized bed made of a rich, dark brown wood, fit with an incredibly soft mattress covered in silk purple sheets located on the left side of the room. A nightstand stood on the right side of the bed, while a small desk sat along the wall on the left side, both of which were made of the same material as the bed. His clothes lay folded in various inlaid shelves in the right side wall, while a large white drape covered the glass double doors that led to the bathroom on the wall opposite of him. The only carpet was a large circular one right upon entering, of the same color and patterns of the rest of the carpeting in the household.
Strandivar dropped his bag of belongings next to the desk, and took off the clothes he was wearing in favor of something more comfortable. Pulling his shirt off over his head revealed the slight muscular frame that was natural in all otters, his abs a faint outline over his stomach, and his shoulders and chest revealing small, tightly packed muscles. He pulled his pants off next, his muscular legs and tail free from the confinement of the dirty fabric. The warmth of his clothing now gone, the coolness of the air caressed gently upon his naked body. He could feel the heat rising up off of him, especially noticeable from his shoulders and his crotch. Flinging his loose traveling shirt and pants onto the floor, he walked over to the shelving to grab some shorts, his sheath and scrotum bobbing back and forth as he walked. He often became aroused when he walked around naked for any period of time, especially when the temperature difference accentuated his nakedness, and he could feel a stirring in his loins beginning to occur. Grabbing a light tan pair of comfortable shorts he quickly pulled them up just as his member started to peek from his sheath. He did not wish to relieve himself just yet.
Arching his back in a quick stretch, he prepared himself for the work involved in creating the additional room. Walking out of the bedroom, he took the upstairs walkway to the area just opposite of the study. Facing the wall right where he wanted the doorway to be, he placed his hand in front of him and braced himself as he took up the concentration needed. Controlling earth to this caliber took a different amount of strength than the storing orbs, and also created a different effect upon his body.
The thread feeling came first as he prepared the soil displacement. He loosened the stone around the area he was concentrating on, reverting it back to soft earth. He then wrapped his mind around the prepared area, keeping a mental image of the exact amount of room he wanted to create. Fully prepared, he forced his will upon the soil.
Immediately, heaviness overtook his body, and his movements and breathing were difficult to maintain, as if the air had become a thick mud. He pushed back upon the soil slowly, the resistance being felt directly on his mind. The soil receded gradually, the surrounding area suffering from minor quaking as the soil was forced away, Strandivar gaining a few inches every few moments. He was very slow and meticulous in doing this, if he released his concentration the room would cave in and he would have to start over. It took nearly 10 minutes to adequately shape the room, and he reverted his concentration on solidifying the soil so it would stay after going a few feet in. At this point the feeling changed; his body felt harder, and it felt as if the stone itself was grinding into his mind. This step was faster, but was incredibly taxing, as he had to keep the soil in place while he hardened it. He was breathing harder now, and his body was starting to sweat from the exertion. A couple more minutes, and Strandivar collapsed onto the floor, the hardest part of it finally done as he released his mental hold on the area.
Just lying on the floor, he rested while he recovered, his body feeling like he had just finished a long run or an intense weight training session. After a few minutes, Strandivar got up and resumed the task, increasing the length of the room. He did a pattern of rest and push that went on for nearly 2 hours before he was finally finished, completely exhausted. He ended up taking a short nap on the floor, too tired to get up to sleep in his bedroom.
* * *
A few hours later, Strandivar had already gotten up and released the contents of the holding orbs into the new room. However, the items going into the orb don't come out very organized, so Strandivar was required to put all the books back on to the empty bookshelves manually. He didn't really mind it though, as he got to look at all the contents of the books beforehand and organize it to his tastes. First, though, he had to place the bookshelves and furniture where he wanted them.
Strandivar placed all the books and smaller items outside in the walkway, then, using the root systems from the ceiling, he lifted up the various pieces of furniture to place them. This was much less exhausting then moving the pieces himself, as the enchantments already in place were fairly easy to control. He placed the small desk in the middle of the room, and placed the bookshelves in two rows on each side of the room. There were 8 in all, so he had 4 on each side. Then there was the ingredient case, which he decided to place on the far end of the room.
Lifting it up with the roots, he dropped it right where he wanted it, but heard something loose inside move.
Strange. Strandivar thought to himself. The holding orbs kept all loose items separate, no matter if they were inside something else or not. He had even checked inside everything to make sure nothing was there before he started moving them. Walking over to the large piece of furniture, Strandivar examined it carefully. It was a tall piece, as high as the bookshelves, with a storage cupboard above enclosed by doors with glass, and open area just below that, and another storage cupboard enclosed by solid wooden doors.
Shaking it to and fro carefully, he could hear the faint sounds of something sliding at the bottom. Opening the bottom cupboard, Strandivar did not see anything unusual inside. He made a quick check by tapping the inside walls, and found the bottom to be a slightly loose covering, hollow sounding when struck. Curiosity piqued, he tried sliding the thin piece of wood. It gave some resistance, but finally came out after he wiggled it back and forth.
Inside was a large black case made of a soft fabric like velvet. It had a small, circular glasslike piece in the center at the top, inlaid with gold and large enough to put your palm onto. It was about the size of a suitcase. Strandivar recognized what it was. It was magically locked chest, and would likely only open to certain individuals who were allowed access or knew some kind of code. It was because of its enchantment that it was likely not separated with the rest of the items when sucked into the holding orbs.
Strandivar lifted it out of the hidden recession, placing it on the floor behind him. There was nothing more inside, so he closed the cupboard and directed his attention to his new treasure. Obviously, his grandfather had hidden this for a reason, so there was likely to be something inside. The question was would he be able to open it? Did his grandfather hide it just for Strandivar, or did he hide it and forgot it was there?
These chests were quite dangerous when tampered with. Knowing his grandfather, it probably had an immensely powerful seal, seeing as how he was quite an accomplished mage. Touching the glass with a finger, Strandivar focused a bit of energy to see what sort of reaction would occur. Surprisingly, the glass turned green in color, the gold inlays visibly turning as the chest unlocked.
This was meant to be found by me. Strandivar thought to himself. There was no other reason why it would give so easily. Fleeting thoughts of what it could be drifted past in his mind, the first being that it was a hidden stash of precious gems. Strandivar had not been given any inheritance money, and it was just like his grandfather to hide something like this to find. Excited that he was about to find something new, he waited impatiently as the chest top lifted up on its own.
A large book with a smooth leather cover lay inside, next to an assorted array of what were likely to be various mage items of a kind Strandivar did not immediately recognize. He pulled out a few of the items, glancing over them in quick appraisal. A large green glass ball, an intricate glass vial with a clear liquid inside that reflected light in a swirl of colors, a strange little piece of metal that appeared to be shaped like two oak leaves spreading out diagonally, meeting at the "stem" with a ring, and a small cylinder made of a hard, but slightly giving material, were among the items inside. He only recognized one, that being a pair of magic shackles.
What a strange set. Strandivar thought to himself. Placing the items to the side, he pulled the rather large book out of the case. It had no name on its cover, and the pages were wrinkled and thick as though they were heavily used. Thinking he would get some more information on the items, he open it up to the first page, immediately recognizing his grandfather's writing in a short, scrawled note:
_To Whom It May Concern:
This book contains all of what I learned, remembered, and tested while overseas in the "Strayaborka" territories. The instructions contained within are a special art of the region, previously lost to much of the present world, and has been both taboo and longed after by much of the mage community throughout history. It is suggested that one does not practice this art out in the open due to its nature._
Strayaborka... Strandivar thought to himself. That land had been almost completely closed off for the last couple centuries, the only communications existing currently being in trade. It surprised him that his grandfather had been there. There was also a loose piece of paper that fell out from the first page. Picking it up and unfolding it, Strandivar read the following to himself:
_Strandivar, if you're reading this, I entrust that you will use this responsibly. I had the case that this was in open specifically for you, and enclosed it with some items of the highest quality that were created using this art. They are used, but should still be working in top condition. The book can only be read by you for the next century or two. Until the enchantment wears off it will look like a blank book to anyone else. This enchantment also protects the book from a variety of damage; so don't mind tossing it around a bit or throwing it into a fire or reading it under water. Nothing will happen!
It is likely that, if you are reading this, that I am no longer around. There is much that you probably never knew about me, but you are likely to gain some insight reading through this book. I hope it doesn't greatly change your opinion of me; although, it doesn't change the fact I'm still a dirty old man when you get right down to it. Hahaha!
P.S. forgive me if the secondary enchantment on the case startled you. I had to make it loud enough to grab your attention once it got into your home._
So this was meant for me. Strandivar mused. His curiosity was definitely at its peak now. He was looking forward to the fascinating new magic that awaited him at his fingertips.
Flipping the pages, Strandivar read through the table of contents, disbelief starting to cross his face. The book named several magical uses that involved changing the makeup of the body; longevity, mass increase, shapeshifting, and the like, but that was not what was surprising to Strandivar. A large portion of the headings were involved in a sexual nature. Orgasm control, increasing arousal levels, magical masturbation... The book was chock-full of self-pleasure magic.
Strandivar didn't really know what to think. He had a feeling of giddy anxiety, like a child stealing from a cookie jar or being a teenager looking at pornography for the first time. Nervous adrenaline rushed through him, his pulse quickening as he started reading some of the procedures, his arousal starting to get the better of him.
A loud ring startled him, causing him to drop the book onto the floor. Someone had rung the doorbell.
Feeling flushed and foolish, Strandivar rushed down into the main hall, slightly mindful that his stiffness hadn't yet receded. Running up the front entrance steps, the windows reflecting the light of sundown outside, he approached the root door just as another ring reverberated through the household.
"Who is it?" Strandivar called out to the other side, glad that his arousal was noticeably less now.
"It's Keela!" A familiar female voice hailed in a muffled tone. This caught him by surprise. Here he was, half-naked, dirty, and partially aroused, about to open the door for a girl he had a crush on. He hesitated a bit before opening the doorway, a petite young otter of 18 greeting his vision in the dim light.
Keela was a friend of his from town. They had met when her father, a merchant, wanted to set up business in the town and required some of Strandivar's services. She worked the merchant business with her father, and was there to oversee his work when preparing the foundations of the building of their business. They became fast friends during this time. She was playful in nature, and often a heavy, teasing flirt. She was somewhat on the shy side at times, but could sometimes be quite blunt, which has caught Strandivar off-guard more than a few times.
She was a fairly attractive otter, more cute than drop-dead gorgeous. Her body was trim and sleek, colored similarly to Strandivar, except her darker fur was slightly lighter, and the tan colored fur in comparison was a slightly off-white. The off-white fur covered a bit more area than just her front and bottom of her tail, going down the back of her legs and under her arms; it also went farther up her face and covered the cheeks. She was a head shorter than Strandivar, and had piercing blue eyes. Her breasts were a perky C-size; nearly D, and she had a well-rounded, muscular rump. She was wearing a simple, small white dress, and was carrying a woven basket in her hands.
"Hey there, Randi!" Keela greeted, prolonging the "R" in his nickname playfully in a growl. She grinned, looking Strandivar's sweaty, tired body over, "Working hard?"
Strandivar blushed, "Yes, I'm working on a new room."
Keela nodded, "I kind of thought you were back; we could feel some small quaking down in town," She stepped up closer to him in inquiry, "Are you okay? You know, with your grandfather dying, and all..."
"Yeah, I'm alright," Strandivar answered, "He made it clear that he was going to be gone at some point. There really isn't a huge point in grieving over it. Besides, if he were alive he'd laugh and beat me with his cane if I did."
"Beat you with a cane?" Keela laughed, "What was he, sadistic?"
"Quite," Strandivar grinned, taking the joke and running with it, "He used to buy me puppies just so that he could kill them."
"No he didn't!" Keela retorted.
"Oh, yes! He'd put them in a blender, the bones all grinding and the puppy yelping, blood spraying every which direction, and would pour the remains into a cup. He'd force me to drink it through a straw, like this," Strandivar said, holding up his hands with an invisible cup and making an obnoxious slurping sound.
"You're terrible," Keela frowned. Strandivar laughed. There was a small, awkward silence.
"So, was that why you came, to check up on me?" Strandivar asked after a moment.
"Y-yeah," Keela said, slightly flustered "I also brought you some things I baked earlier." She held up the basket.
"Thank you," Strandivar said, a housewife joke coming into his mind but keeping it to himself as he accepted the basket from her, "It's nice to know that you care about me."
Keela seemed to have a start when he made that comment, and she blushed a bit. More awkward silence.
"So, are you coming back to town tomorrow?" Keela asked suddenly, changing the subject.
"No, I'm thinking I'm going to take the next couple days off so that I can organize the stuff I got," Strandivar answered, "A lot of books and junk."
"Oh? Would you like some help, then?" Keela inquired, "I have the day off tomorrow."
"I wouldn't want to take up your free time," Strandivar said, slightly flattered.
"I don't mind," Keela pressed, "I'd probably enjoy it."
"Alright," Strandivar gave, "Tomorrow morning?"
"Deal," Keela said, turning around to go back through the door outside, "See you then!"
"Alright!" Strandivar waved farewell, closing the root door in front of him. He walked back down the entrance steps, looking into the basket. He pulled out a blueberry muffin partway down. It was quite good, being moist and tart.
The book his grandfather left him started to creep back into his mind. He definitely wanted to look at it a bit more. However, having talked to Keela made Strandivar a bit more self-aware of his physical look, and he decided he should take a relaxing break with a bath before jumping back into it.
He left the basket in the kitchen, walking up the stairs and into his bedroom, just finishing the rest of his muffin. He took a towel from one of his shelves in the wall, pulled back the drapes covering the glass doors of the bathroom, and entered.
The upstairs bathroom was more like a large underground spring. The stone comprising the walls and ceiling were a lot rougher than the rest of the house and very dark, the moisture giving them a constant shine. It had a large, dark pool in the center, about 15 feet through 10 feet, surrounded by smooth, interconnected rock along the edge. Surrounding the pool were small stone benches that jutted up from the ground. The "toilet" and the sink were in a separate room on the left, closed off by a door resembling bamboo shafts. There was a stone fountain in the center that was convenient for showering. It was also constantly kept warm and purified through enchantment, and the deepness was easily controlled through similar means, so it was always ready for a dip. The room was lit up from beneath the pool, creating a very different atmosphere than the rest of the house, the cool blue light dancing off the dark, irregular walls.
Strandivar took off his shorts, placing them on the bench next to his towel. He stepped down into the waters slowly, the warmth caressing his tired limbs, and the scent of the waters relaxing his mind. He submerged himself all the way to his neck, where he leaned himself up against the wall of the pool, completely relaxed.
His thoughts drifted to Keela coming tomorrow. She would probably wear some simpler clothes; ones she wouldn't mind getting dirty and that would allow her to move freely. He imagined them tight against her body, accentuating her curves and bust, her body wet with sweat from the efforts of moving. The thoughts caused him to become aroused again, the blood pumping into his loins below the water, his penis escaping its sheath and protruding 6 inches into the warm waters.
Sighing contentedly, his right hand drifted below, rubbing against his inner thigh, where he cradled his balls and kneaded them gently in his hand, squeezing rhythmically. His penis responded, lurching up every so often from his ministrations, throbbing with lust.
He imagined Keela naked now, her nipples standing erect, her back arched out as she kneeled and moaned, her eyes narrowing in pleasure, her pussy visibly wet. He released his balls and ran a finger up between them, over his sheath and on to his shaft up to its head. He grasped it into his hand, feeling the blood pulsing through it in his grip, and began to pump it slowly up and down. His free hand drifted down toward his balls to take up the task his right hand had left.
He was breathing heavier now, his eyes shut as he let the pleasurable effect ripple through his body. He pumped a bit faster, his member throbbing strongly and more frequently in his tight grip. His body was getting hot with effort; he would probably cum soon if he kept this up. Knowing this, he slowed down his pace, wanting the pleasure to last longer.
His thoughts drifted to the book as he rhythmically continued pumping, his hips thrusting slightly. The items were probably sex toys of some sort, possibly to aid in some of the rituals. Maybe they worked on a standalone basis. His arousal was dropping a bit now, but he was still quite hard. His grandfather had stated the items were used.
Strandivar stopped, his lust dying as peculiar thoughts came into his head. His grandfather used them? Of course, he probably tested everything in the book himself. The statement, "I'm a dirty old man," stuck out into his mind. He imagined his grandfather, laying there, pleasuring himself with the cylinder object stuck into his ass, his grandmother chained up to the bedpost in black leather with the shackles he found, watching him get off.
UGH! Damnit! Strandivar cursed to himself. His boner was instantly killed as thoughts of old people being perverted made his hair stand end, involuntarily giving himself chills. He thought about it for a moment, and laughed, mentally shrugging it off.
He continued with his bathing without interruption now, cleaning his fur throughout. Even if his grandfather had used the book and items for what he thought he used them for, this was not going to stop him from experimenting for himself. He finished off his cleansing, pulling out of the water and drying himself off with the towel as his arousal began returning at the thought of using the book. He left himself naked as he returned to the library to grab the book and prepare one of its rituals.
* * *
It took a few hours of preparation, but Strandivar was finally finished with the basic setup. It required him to draw a special circle of power into the floor of his study. These circles of powers allowed for ease in use of controlling different energies, and kept them running on a more permanent basis without concentration. He had different ones throughout the household, hidden, where they kept the various enchantments running throughout his household.
This particular circle of power was very complicated, as he had to draw it specifically for his species and sex, and that it naturally curved in intense patterns. It was comprised of two circles, one smaller, center one, and the larger, outer circle, drawn into the stone floor in what appeared to be chalk. In-between the two circles was a complex crisscrossing of lines with various small 2-inch circles scattered throughout. There was no possible way he would have been able to draw one without the book.
Standing in the center, he began the concentration needed to activate the basic spell he was going to activate. He was still naked, but not aroused as of yet. The circle of power began to glow white, and he focused his energy on a specific pattern and order of smaller circles. Each time he did so, a tiny, white ball of light would shoot up and zoom over his head, sticking in place. The consecutive balls of energy would continue to fly into the same place, and the ball of energy above would grow in size. He finished the ritual after about a minute or two, and allowed the larger ball to drift down, concentrating on holding it just a few inches away from his right palm.
The ball of energy was like a small, white sun, but it did not give off very much heat at all. Strandivar could feel the energy pulsing from it, and he quickly walked out into the hallway, the ball locked in place a few inches from his right hand. His arousal was growing again as he walked into the bedroom, and he climbed up onto his bed just as his member was again escaping the confines of his sheath, being cautious not to let the energy ball contact anything.
He carefully laid onto his back and spread his legs. His penis was a few inches out of his sheath now, and he gently pulled his scrotum up. Taking his right hand, he maneuvered the energy just below is ball sac, and pushed it against the skin. The ball partially absorbed into him, and he could feel the energy pulsing. It greatly tickled the groin area and his anus as he could feel the energy spreading through, but he bit back on the uncomfortable feeling. When he felt it was adequately placed according to the directions given, he released his concentration on the ball and it completely absorbed into him.
He lay completely back now, bringing his legs back together flat on the bed into a more comfortable position as he waited. A few moments passed by, but he did not feel anything, his arousal starting to drop. Just about when he thought he had done something wrong, a sudden surge of blood flooded into his penis, bringing his few inches to full erection almost instantaneously.
Strandivar moaned, his member twitching at a frequent speed of twice a second, tight with arousal. His hormones flowed through his body, the heat overtaking him and his pulse and breathing quickening. He felt little pricks of energy, like tiny flows of electricity, spreading through his balls and prostate. He gripped his bed sheets tightly and bit his lip, thrusting up and staying there, his crotch poised in the air, his thick tail rubbing against the bed. The sudden rush receded, and he gasped for breath, collapsing back on to the bed with a thud. His penis was still incredibly hard, but was throbbing less and less. Nothing more seemed to be happening.
Strandivar did not have to wait long, though. Starting down at his prostate, he felt a pulse as his muscles contracted, spreading up through, between his legs, and along the length of his penis in a sensuous wave. His member lifted up on its own when the wave hit it, accentuating the hardness as it attempted to pump more blood into it at full arousal, the organ going completely tight. The wave receded, and after a few moments, rose back up again to create the same effect. This continued to happen for several minutes, his ecstasy growing slightly with each passing, pulsing, wave. The frequency of the wave increased each time, eventually stopping at a contraction happening every other second. It stayed at this peak for several minutes.
Gradually, Strandivar could feel his cum starting to ease its way up, a noticeable full feeling occurring just below his balls. As each wave came, it would pulse up just a bit higher, and would recede a small amount when the wave stopped. He could smell his arousal now, and a tiny drop of pre oozed from the tip of his maleness.
Another few waves, and he could feel his cum crawling up to the base of his shaft. The pleasure was beginning to increase, small spikes of pleasure rippling through him. He gripped the bed sheets again, his paws damp with the effort his body was making. His eyes narrowed as he reveled in his self-indulgence. He knew it was wouldn't be too much longer.
One, two, three more waves, and he could feel his fluids beginning to fill his shaft halfway. The pleasure was agonizing now, his feeling of growing orgasm a faint tension on his body, teasing him with future reward. He was thrusting with the contractions now, his breathing becoming labored. He was having trouble thinking clearly, the ecstasy of the situation swamping his mind. He had to fight grabbing his member with his hands to finish the job more quickly, but the directions said the result was better if physical touch was not induced, so he gripped the bed sheets more tightly to stop himself.
Another four waves. His cum was pushing its way into the head of his penis. The pleasure was unbearable, his muscles tightening and his grip knuckle-white, his eyes tightly shut as the torturous pleasures teased him. His tail was visibly twitching, and he brought his legs up from their laid down position as he thrusted into the air.
"Ngh!" Strandivar grunted through his teeth as the next wave filled his member to its brim, his body clouded in pleasure as his orgasm slowly approached fruition. He was thrusting with wild abandon now, his tail thumping against the bed in time with his mad rhythm. He was close, so close! He opened his eyes narrowly to watch his member as the next wave hit.
His member lurched, cum dribbling out as his shaft overflowed, the otter's juices attempting to drip off the head. The release of this small amount of fluids sent a small shock of pleasure through him, and he stopped thrusting to await the final contraction, his breathing getting shallow and quick.
Time seemed to slow down, and the next wave did not come immediately. His mind was animalistic, driven near insane as his lusts sat unfulfilled, and his frustrations were about to release just as he felt a small contraction occur.
The buildup was slower on this, but seemed to gain a certain ferocity as it began to flow through him, like a snowball rolling down a hill. He arched his back, his head shoved back into his pillows as his mouth gaped open in voiceless, agonizing bliss. Just when the wave hit his penis, he convulsed inward, his body rigid as his orgasm finally ripped forth.
His penis twitched violently, an incredibly strong spray of thick otter cream blasting wildly from the tip of his member, splashing his stomach and chest with hot globules of cum, the end of the first shot splatting satisfyingly against his neck. At the same time, his body was assaulted by a resounding explosion of pleasure, his nerves electrified as the orgasm rushed through him, and he arched back again. The pleasure slowly receded a small amount immediately after the ejaculation. Strandivar was slightly surprised; he had never cum that hard in his life, and the orgasm did not continue in the normal quick successions of ejaculation he was used to, the fleeting thoughts filling his mind just as another wave built up.
"Guh-uwwahh!" Strandivar screamed, as the pleasures ripped through him again, his body going rigid as another orgasmic convulsion pulsed through him, his member twitching as it shot a long, thick rope of his hot spunk onto his upper chest, the strand combining with the rest of his cum on his front, threatening to dribble down his sides. Another pause.
The next wave came a bit more quickly, and the resulting orgasm seemed to greet the receding one with a slightly less intense shock of pleasure. The convulsion passed quickly through his shaft, blasting another strand of his cream just shy of the distance his last one made. He was writhing in the pleasure, his movements causing the collected cum on his front to finally begin dribbling down his sides, the feeling of his quickly cooling fluids oozing down his sides increasing the pleasure.
Another wave came, just before the last one finished itself out. His breath caught in his throat. The orgasm came once again, not quite as mind numbing as the last two, but still quite strong, his member shooting another, rather long lasting, shot of his fluids a few inches out on to his stomach, collecting in a pool in his bellybutton. The dripping cum was now beginning to combine with the tangled bed sheets.
The waves came increasingly faster now, the ripples of pleasure creating a continuous succession of orgasmic convulsions that Strandivar was more familiar with. His member continued to shoot his cum more frequently and less violently, the hot liquid pooling onto his stomach and quickly racing down his sides. He moaned out.
The final stretch of the ordeal lasted 20 seconds before the waves no longer created any orgasmic feeling, instead complimenting his afterglow, causing his penis to dribble small amounts of cum that drooled down his member.
That was incredible. Strandivar thought to himself. He was completely drained of energy now, his body hot and sweaty with the effort. The cum covering his body and bed sheets was becoming cold now, but he didn't care, the feeling of self-indulged accomplishment overriding any regrets. His weariness was beginning to overtake him; his breathing becoming more regular as the afterglow slowly drifted and left him relaxed. His mind drifted back to the spellbook, his last thoughts on imagining what the higher end spells could do. A grin appeared on the corner of his mouth, just as he fell asleep.
~~~
END
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_---
Alright, so this is the first story I've written in almost 7 years that was entirely done without any stupid guidelines. It's been so long, I've forgotten exactly how you punctuate long conversations. LOL_
I've wanted to create something here for almost 2 years now, but never got the drive to do anything about it until recently. Hopefully, I'll be able to continue with this. This is the first story I've ever written of a yiffy nature, so feedback/critique would be much appreciated.
~DPD