Alchemy Conference (6): Dreaming as Ariel
I had a dream. In the dream, I was Ariel. Clechia was sucking my cock. Slurp. Slurp. Feels good? Yeah. That's what I answered, but honestly, it wasn't that exciting. Clechia stared up at me from between my knees, her eyes wide round. Her bulging cheeks twitched.
—Wake up.
That punk Lucas once went on and on about how amazing fellatio felt. He said that while his cock-slut Reina licked the sensitive underside of his glans with her tongue, the sensation was great, but the real pleasure came from something more primal. What was it he said again?
—Wake up.
A sense of superiority? Conquest? Lucas claimed the thrill was even more intense with a woman superior to him. He spoke with such conviction it felt like unshakable faith. If anyone tried to shatter that belief, he'd stake his life on defending it.
What a bullshit dream. This is a fucking bullshit dream.
—Wake up wake up wake up.
"Hahk, hahk."
My eyes stung from the light. My head throbbed like it was splitting open. Especially the back of my skull—it hurt like hell. My whole body felt limp, drained of strength. I heard muffled voices droning on. The intense light flooding my dilated pupils dyed my vision red. I squinted. I tried to raise my hand to shield my eyes, but for some reason, it wouldn't move. No, it wouldn't obey my will. My hands were bound behind my back.
"Ah...?"
"Looks like you're finally coming to, bitch. I told you to go easy."
"No, Tower Lord, I didn't hit her that hard. I didn't expect her to go down so easily."
As my pupils slowly contracted, my blurry vision started to focus. Even with my eyes closed, the afterimages lingered, brightening the darkness like I had them open.
"Wha, what...?"
"Hey, slave. Your name was... Terria, right?"
"You... you fucker, what the hell is...?"
Lucas. It was Lucas right in front of me. What? Why the hell is this guy here? I looked up at him from my knees. More importantly, where the fuck am I...?
—Slap!
"Aak...!"
"Talking casual like that, you slave? Did your master teach you to be so rude? Figures, like master, like slave."
My slapped cheek burned. Why do guys always go for the face first when they're pissed? Oh right, I used to do that. Fuck. Still, I hate reliving the past like this. My mouth tasted metallic with blood. My lip must've split.
"Hey, shit, you. Heal this bitch's lip. Gonna use it later—don't want it looking ugly."
Use it for what? My head was still too foggy to process the situation. What the hell was going on? I tried to think.
The man, following Lucas's order, cast a heal spell. Hummm—.
"What are you? You're no ordinary slave. Even a mage wouldn't understand that stuff unless they were Ariel."
Ariel. I'm Ariel, you crazy bastard. I blurted it out reflexively. I know I said it.
"I'm Ariel. You crazy bastard."
Instead, the slave brand on me flashed briefly and faded. Fuck. That goddamn slave brand. It worked flawlessly, without a single lapse.
"Hah, still haven't come to your senses? What a piece of work. I really like it."
Lucas raised his hand, then stopped. I flinched and curled up with a whimper. Pure reflex.
"You know who I am, right? That's why you're acting so bold."
"Red Tower Lord...?"
I trailed off. I'd probably been kidnapped. Bold enough to pull this shit in broad daylight? My eyes darted around, gathering info. A spacious, gaudy suite room. Probably Lucas's. Looks like he threw money at the hotel staff for an upgrade. The kind of guy who blows his underlings' dog-like earnings like it's his own.
Now that I knew where I was, I needed an escape plan. Just two of them—Lucas and his lackey. Hands bound behind me. My cloak was off, draped over the table. Could I take them both? But Lucas grabbed my hair, forcing my gaze on him.
"Rolling your eyes, huh? Fine, straight to the point. Be my slave instead of Ariel's."
"What the fuck are you...?"
"I'll remove your slave brand. Then brand you with mine. How's that? I can treat you better than that prick."
"Fuck off, asshole."
Slave? I'm no slave to begin with. Even in this state, I'm not some object. I'm Ariel, a mage. I spat in defiance, screaming it in my mind. The spit landed on Lucas's knee. He hadn't expected a slave to spit, his face twisting in disgust. Then a heavy impact to my gut.
—Thud!
"Kkgh, guh, urk. Urrgh."
Couldn't breathe. Gonna puke. It hurts. Hurts so much. Felt like my insides were ripping apart. My organs twisting. The delayed pain hit, my body shuddering. Dry heaves. It hurt like crazy. For real, I could feel what dying was like.
"Sorry, but you don't get a choice. No idea why you're yapping casual like that, but know your place."
Pain gave way to sorrow. Why the hell do I have to get hit? Why suffer like this at the hands of some asshole? It's unfair. Heartbreaking. One spell and that prick would be down. So frustrating that I couldn't do shit. Why me? What did I do wrong? What the fuck did I do?
Suddenly, Lucas reached out and touched my nape. I jolted in shock. A hiccup escaped from the surprise.
"Hic! Gasp! Sniff, kk."
"This is..."
Lucas fiddled with the red choker around my neck. He had enough basic knowledge to recognize it.
"A magic restraint choker? What, you can use magic and you're a slave?"
I nodded frantically. Nothing came out of my throat. Felt like he'd hit me again if I didn't answer, so I nodded with effort. His intrigued gaze terrified me. That's when it sank in—my predicament. I couldn't do a damn thing.
"I'll unlock it, so try casting a spell. A beastkin slave mage? Heh, exciting. What magic will our amazing slave lady show us?"
Lucas smirked confidently, placing his hand on the choker. He infused it with red mana. Hummm—. Arrogant expression. Even if the choker came off, he figured he could block any slave's attack. Baseless confidence. A slave might know a lot, but in a real magic fight, he'd never lose—or so he thought. I wouldn't expect to lose to some slave either.
But the choker wouldn't unlock. Why? Lucas's face twisted in shock. He clearly didn't know how to properly release it. Of course not—who made it? Somehow, my fear-dominated mind cleared just a bit. Right, this is that punk Lucas. Don't panic.
"W-wait. Okay, I get it. I'll do it. Slave, I'll do it."
"Oh? How do I believe that? Who was the one spitting curses a second ago, now pretending to comply?"
You told me to. You told me to ditch Ariel. I swallowed my rising anger and forced the most pitiful expression. Buy time first. I stammered, my battered gut still aching.
"The choker... only Ari—Master can unlock it. Let me go unlock it and come back."
Lucas pondered. Even he, a mage, couldn't resist. His eyes gleamed with anticipation for what magic this intriguing bitch might show. I glanced at the clock on the table. Almost evening. The afternoon lecture should be wrapping up. Then Terria would notice I was gone from the room. Humiliating that he's my only hope, but right now, he's all I had.
"Fine. But don't just talk—prove it with actions."
Lucas grinned sleazily. His lackey chuckled beside him. Lucas stripped off his pants. Then his underwear. His limp dick dangled amid a bush of pubic hair. An ominous chill gripped my head. No way...
He leaned back on the suite's plush sofa, legs spread wide. His lackey dragged me between those splayed thighs.
"Suck it."
"What...?"
"Suck it. Show some sincerity. Isn't that what slaves do—serve their master?"
"Ah... ah...?"
I freaked out. My face drained pale in an instant. A fishy stench wafted from the cock right in front of me. Revolting. Made me want to gag. Me? I'm a guy? Suck that? Terror coursed through me, my tail trembling too.
"Gotta show that much sincerity if you want me to even consider letting you go. And with such a pretty face."
Lucas caressed my cheek with a creepy touch. My mind went blank. No thoughts. But instinctively, I knew—this fucker was obsessed with blowjobs. Then he said something weird.
"Cocktail—do you like it?"