Necessity of Focus

Ashenivir Zauvym had an unshakeable focus that had impressed Rizeth from the first. When he set his mind to something, it was nigh impossible to distract him from his purpose, in both the classroom and in their scenes together.

Rizeth wanted to test it.

He wanted to see just how far he could push the limits of Ashenivir’s concentration, just how far the apprentice could go. Now that Rizeth had titled him, made him Ra’soltha, he was, if anything, proving even more dedicated to the arrangement they had made. He learned Rizeth’s preferences and forgot none of them, upheld deference even outside the bedroom without drawing attention to it, came to every summons willing and eager.

He was, in short, proving to be a most excellent submissive. At least so far—Rizeth was not about to start counting lizards before they hatched. There was still time to be disappointed.

Presently, Ashenivir was knelt at his feet whilst he read on the couch in his quarters, and Rizeth had one hand settled on the back of his neck. He was naked, of course, and would remain in this position as instructed until Rizeth deigned to tell him what he had been summoned for today. He flexed his fingers idly, sliding through snowy hair to the soft skin beneath. Ashenivir made a quiet, pleased noise.

“Tell me, apprentice—what do you know of the spell major image?”

Ashenivir did not raise his head to answer—he was too well-behaved for that—but he did kneel up a little straighter.

“An illusion spell, Master, requiring a degree of concentration to maintain, although approximately ten minutes is recorded to be the utmost limit. I know all the required components for it and have practised it a few times. A useful piece of magic for entertainment or deceptive purposes.”

“Well recited.” He stroked Ashenivir’s neck, circling the uppermost vertebrae. This time, Ashenivir shivered. “I am going to test your focus today, Ra’soltha. If you do well, you may request a reward.”

“Request one, Master? Are there limits on what I may ask for?”

“There are. You will know them if you manage to find them—though I suspect you will not, as I can likely predict what sort of reward you will want.”

He didn’t need to look to know that his apprentice was flushing. Rizeth smiled to himself, marked his place and set his book aside. He enjoyed how responsive Ashenivir was—his every touch, every word; all could set him off in the most delightful ways. It was not, he had learned, that Ashenivir was embarrassed. More that he simply reacted, naturally and openly, in a way that Rizeth never did. He had spent a lifetime forging his masks and ensuring they did not slip; Ashenivir wore none.

Rizeth got to his feet and commanded Ashenivir into the bedroom, following the lithe apprentice and taking in his sleek form with approving eyes. The door clicked shut and Rizeth circled Ashenivir where he stood in the centre of the room, awaiting orders. Rizeth lifted his chin with a finger, looking down into deep red eyes that gleamed with eagerness in his soft, open face.

“You are going to cast major image for me today,” he told him.

“Yes, Master.”

He slid his other hand down Ashenivir’s side, curving over his ass. Ashenivir’s lips parted slightly, and he arched his hips towards Rizeth, always craving more. Rizeth pinched him and he yelped.

“I am going to fuck you, whilst you cast,” he said, enjoying the bob of Ashenivir’s throat as he swallowed. “And if the spell fails, you will neither be requesting your reward nor will you be coming this evening.”

Ashenivir’s expression shifted. Still eager, still obedient, but now quietly determined. He did not like to fail, Rizeth knew, not in class and not here. Submissive he might be, but weak-willed he was not.

Rizeth liked that about him.

“Yes, Master. I understand,” he said.

“Very good, Ra’soltha. Then we shall begin.”

Ashenivir rubbed the small piece of fleece between his fingers. Master Velkon’yss had pressed the spell’s sole component into his hand then moved to stand behind him, and his presence made Ashenivir’s spine prickle. He shivered, though he was not cold, but nervous. Eager, too, and excited.

His Master set cool hands on his hips, then lips whispered against Ashenivir’s ear. “Cast the spell, apprentice.”

Drawing a steadying breath, Ashenivir did. As his hands sketched through the motions of the spell, he heard Rizeth murmuring the lubrication cantrip behind him. He began to speak the words of the major image and stuttered as slick fingers pressed up into him, gasping out the final arcane syllables at the same time as Master Velkon’yss curled two fingers into him, pressing up so very sweetly.

The space in front of the door filled with Ashenivir’s illusion—a large mushroom, such as might be found in the thick forests of Chataurvvin to the east of the city, now appeared to sprout from the floor. It was almost as high as the door, deep blue fading to turquoise at the edges of its cap, and it pulsed with subtle, violet lights, which reflected their illusory glow onto both the wall behind and the ceiling above.

Rizeth sucked at his earlobe, working his fingers steadily.

“Fine work, apprentice. An excellent casting.”

“T-thank you, Master,” Ashenivir stammered. Rizeth curled his fingers again and Ashenivir gasped—the edges of the mushroom cap flickered briefly, then restored themselves.

“Maintain your focus, Ra’soltha. Remember the rules,” Rizeth purred, still finger-fucking him without pause. Ashenivir nodded, biting his lip and fighting to keep a tight hold on the Weave that connected his mind to the illusion. He was not going to fail.

Master Velkon’yss teased him a moment more, then pulled his fingers free, giving Ashenivir a slap on the ass to direct him towards the bed.

“Face the door,” he instructed. “We are going to keep an eye on that illusion together.”

“Yes, Master.”

On all fours, Ashenivir gazed at his illusion. If he hadn’t cast it himself, he would have thought it real, so solid did it seem. He was glad he’d spent time practising the spell when he had first learned it—the study was paying off now. Master Velkon’yss stripped out of his robes before joining him on the bed, and Ashenivir steeled himself as his Master pushed into him, slow and steady, stretching him out until he was full and panting.

The illusion did not falter.

“Hold the spell until I come, Ra’soltha,” Master Velkon’yss said, grasping Ashenivir’s hips firmly and beginning to rock into him. “And if you come before I do, you will be punished. Am I understood?”

“I understand, Master.”

The pleasing sting of a slap on his ass was all the reply he got, and then Rizeth was fucking him, filling him so deep that he cried out with it.

Oh, Goddess, he wanted to let go. Ever since the first time Rizeth had fucked him, the act alone was enough to make him want to give his mind over, to belong to nothing but the moment and his Master’s pleasure. Like this, he existed only to be used and to obey.

The edges of the illusion shimmered and Ashenivir snapped back to himself, breathing hard as he grasped the spell tighter. He rocked back to meet Rizeth’s every thrust as he picked up speed, digging his fingers into Ashenivir’s hips. Each time Rizeth hit deep inside him the spell threatened to collapse; each high point of pleasure tried to pull the threads of the Weave from his mind, make him falter.

How could he hold this for ten minutes? For he knew that Rizeth would last until the very limit of the spells’ duration, would do so intentionally to push Ashenivir as far as he could. Ashenivir had failed in nothing the Master had asked of him so far and he was not about to now.

He could do this. He would do this.

Rizeth slid a hand into his hair and yanked his head back—Ashenivir moaned plaintively and clawed his fingers into the sheets. His Master, fucking him, so good that his eyes rolled back and he started to float but no, no, he couldn’t do that, the spell! He had to…had to hold the spell…

A part of his mind clung to reality, to the magic. The illusion remained, the mushroom continued to pulse its subtle violet lights, and Ashenivir’s head swam. He was here, but he wasn’t. He was at once conscious of every single sensation assailing his body and unable to feel any of it; he had come detached.

“Master,” he gasped out, “Master, I—”

Rizeth tugged his hair. The sting sparkled like glitter over his scalp and Ashenivir whined, high and desperate.

“Maintain your focus a little longer, Ra’soltha,” Master Velkon’yss said. “Think of your reward—you do still want one, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

Ashenivir’s breath came in ragged gasps. His nails dug into the sheets as though they could pin the spell that way, so hard it almost hurt. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. All that mattered was the spell. He would hold it, he would!

He would not fail his Master.

Rizeth had not expected him to last this long, nor had he expected the illusion to be quite so well-crafted. Once again, he could not help but admire Ashenivir’s broad range of skills. He wondered, as he fucked him into insensibility, if the apprentice was aware of how talented a caster he was. Time and again he outpaced even Rizeth’s more experienced students in both knowledge and ability.

Ashenivir was floating beneath him, all his words utterly lost, yet the illusion did not so much as flicker.

It was almost a shame—Rizeth had been looking forward to punishing him. He had not had cause to do so yet, not seriously, anyway. He twisted his fingers in Ashenivir’s hair, admiring the line of his throat as he pulled his head back further. Such a beautiful boy he was, more so under Rizeth’s control like this.

He had said, once, that he would do anything Rizeth asked of him. He had been tied up at the time, giddy with lust, but he had meant it. He had done everything Rizeth had asked of him, and done it eagerly.

Heat coiled low in Rizeth’s belly, startling him—he hadn’t realised he was so close. It took him in a rush, and he snapped his hips, pulling Ashenivir’s hair so hard the apprentice howled, loud enough to swallow up Rizeth’s own groan as he came.

And when he opened his eyes and looked at the door, the illusion was still there.

“Very good, Ra’soltha,” Rizeth said as he pulled free at last. Ashenivir collapsed to the bed, closing his eyes and letting the spell dissipate. A weight fell from his mind as he did so, everything flattening out and emptying—it was all he could do to just lay there, breathing hard, any and all thoughts sliding away before they could get a hold. His body thrummed with each too-rapid beat of his heart, and even the slick feel of his Master’s release trickling down his thighs made him twitch.

Master Velkon’yss eased him onto his side and then upright, keeping him steady, and carefully pushed his hair back from where sweat clung it to his face. He took Ashenivir’s chin in one hand.

“Are you here, apprentice?” he asked. Ashenivir nodded, though it was hard to focus. “Good. You obeyed very well. I am pleased.”

Ashenivir made a happy whining noise, which was the best he could manage. Rizeth stoked his lip with a thumb.

“Now, then,” he said, “what reward would my obedient Ra’soltha like?”

Reward? Oh, yes, he had earned a reward, that was right. But that had been a question, hadn’t it, and those needed answers. Did he have one of those? He thought he might have done, might have had an idea of what he wanted when Rizeth had told him he could request a reward, but his mind was a humming blank.

Ashenivir blinked slowly a few times, but nothing came to him until his gaze fell to Rizeth’s mouth. Oh, that would be simple! He tried to say the words but couldn’t quite form them, so instead he reached up and touched his fingertips first to Rizeth’s lips, then to his own.

He was sure his Master would understand.

“A kiss?” Rizeth might have been surprised, though Ashenivir couldn’t be certain. He might simply have been confirming what it was Ashenivir wanted. So he nodded, and repeated the motion. His arm was trembling.

Master Velkon’yss inclined his head.

“As you wish, Ra’soltha.”

Rizeth leaned in and, for the first time since they had begun their arrangement all those months ago, kissed him.

Ashenivir closed his eyes and hummed, pleased, as Master Velkon’yss slid a hand into his hair to hold him close. A tongue pressed at his lips and he parted them, more than willing to let his Master in. A soft moan escaped him when Rizeth tilted his head, deepening the kiss as his tongue licked against Ashenivir’s own, tasting him and apparently finding it pleasing—for without breaking the kiss he pulled Ashenivir into his lap.

“Master,” he sighed, finally recovering some remnant of speech. The word whispered into Rizeth’s mouth, turning to a whimper as Master Velkon’yss slid a hand up the inside of his thigh. He was hard, still—had been all this time—and the touch reminded him of it and sent a shiver up his spine. His breath quickened as the hand moved higher.

Master Velkon’yss continued to kiss him, claiming his mouth as thoroughly as he had claimed Ashenivir’s body, and he found himself melting into his Master’s touch, pressing up eagerly into the hand that at last wrapped around his cock.

“Good,” Rizeth murmured, pausing a moment to draw breath. He kissed the corner of Ashenivir’s mouth, then along his jaw to nip at his earlobe before returning to his lips. He began to stroke in long, slow slides, brushing his thumb over the head of Ashenivir’s cock at irregular intervals. Ashenivir pressed into his mouth, kissing back perhaps a little harder than he ought to have done, for Master Velkon’yss slowed his touch.

“You must be quite desperate to come,” he said, keeping their mouths so close that the words breathed out over Ashenivir’s lips. “You did well to hold your concentration so long.”

“Thank you, Master,” Ashenivir panted. The bright waves of pleasure spinning through him brought a kind of clarity with them; enough, at least, to reply as he should.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes, Master.”

He tried not to whine, following Master Velkon’yss’ mouth when he pulled away from him again. Now that he’d had a taste, he didn’t want to stop.

“Then beg for it, Ra’soltha,” Rizeth said, voice a low rumble.

Ashenivir fought to pull his thoughts together. He wanted his full reward, he wanted to come, he was going to lose his mind entirely if he didn’t. He gazed at Master Velkon’yss, whose skilful hand was bringing him nearer to the edge with each careful stroke.

“Please, Master, let me come, I’ve been so good, I—” he broke off as a jolt went through him, whining out a moan. Master Velkon’yss slowed to a teasing pace and Ashenivir shook his head back and forth, unable to escape the rising tide of pleasure.

“Master, I want to come, please, I need to, I need…” he flung his arms around Rizeth’s neck, hands clawing together in the desperate need to hold on to something, and pressed his forehead against his Master’s. “Please, Master, please, please!”

He fell into repeating himself over and over, please, please, Master, please, and with every stroke of Rizeth’s hand he rose a little higher, came a little closer, held at the edge in utter desperation. Then, finally, when he didn’t think he could take it any longer—

“You may come, Ra’soltha,” Master Velkon’yss said, and kissed him again, hard and deep. Ashenivir moaned loudly into his mouth as pleasure lit him from head to toe and he came into his Master’s hand, which continued to stroke until Ashenivir collapsed against him, making small, soft noises of overstimulation.

All language had fled him again. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Exhausted exhilaration vibrated beneath his skin—he had done it! He had held the spell, he had pleased his Master, and he had gotten his reward.

Rizeth lay him down on the bed, let him sprawl across the mess of sheets that smelt like sweat and sex and victory. A fresh blanket was laid over him, soft and warm, and he made a mumbled sound that he hoped came across as thanks.

That was all he could manage before a deep, blank reverie overcame him.

Rizeth stood, looking down at the passed-out apprentice in his bed. He crossed his arms and rubbed at his chin, thinking. Ashenivir was certainly dedicated. He was taking this just as seriously as Rizeth could have wanted, as fine a submissive as he could have hoped to find, had he been looking for one.

He hadn’t been looking. Fleeting submissives were one thing, brief flings enough to satisfy at the time. None had lasted and none had been intended to last. He hadn’t wanted another Ra’soltha, not since—

He shook his head, dismissing the thought with a flick of his fingers. Ashenivir had caught his attention and done the impossible in holding it, and now he was Rizeth’s. At least for the time being.

He could always dismiss him. If it became untenable.

He watched the twitch of Ashenivir’s eyes beneath their closed lids, traced the faint curve of the satiated smile on his lips.

Another Ra’soltha, then. Another set of games to play, rules to follow, choices to make. He had set out to test this intriguing young drow, and had been satisfied. Now, though…a smile crossed his own lips.

Now they could really begin.