Titanic Cross Pose to Thrill My Master! Airship Date Lands Us in Witch City
A week flew by like an arrow. Today was finally the school trip day that Sylvia had been dying for. We were off to Witch City.
All the witches from Saint Georgia Magic Academy—professors aside—had boarded the massive airship with their slaves in tow.
Before takeoff, I gawked at the enormous vessel and couldn't help letting out an awed "whoa" once we were airborne.
"Hmph! Looks like that impressed you, huh?"
"Yeah. The hull's huge."
"Heh! My slave needs to show more awe toward nobles. You get what a huge deal it is to be summoned by a genius like me—a noble who can craft something like this—and knock up your master, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll stay loyal forever, my pretty master."
"Listen seriously! Even if you're special since a genius like me summoned you, you're still no match for a girl who can use magic! So revere me more in everyday life! And inversely... at night, treat me like total trash."
So that's where she was steering the conversation. Sure enough, Sylvia launched into a sermon on the greatness of magic. She planted her hands on her hips, puffed out her chest, and strutted proudly—her adorable antics instantly overwriting my awe at the airship.
I swept up my smug master, who was bragging about noble superiority and the luck of having herself as a seedbed, and crushed her in a tight embrace, hoisting her off the ground.
"Kyaa! You scared me—what's that for!?"
"Sylvia! Let's do something fun!"
"Something fun?"
Grinning without a word, I carried her toward the bow of the deck in long strides. I'd only flown on a plane once back on Earth, and a flying ship like this didn't even exist there. Spotting the waist-high railing, one iconic event sprang to mind.
Lovers on a ship have to do this—it's practically a rule!!
No way Titanic existed here, so the thrill would hit Sylvia even harder. It looked precarious enough to topple someone over, but magic combos or whatever kept it safe—I hadn't really listened to the details. Whatever.
Weaving through clusters of witches enjoying the flight view with their slaves, I reached the sharp prow and set down the puzzled Sylvia, gripping her shoulders.
"What? What're you planning?"
"Just stand still. Close your eyes."
Sylvia shut her eyes without a second's hesitation. Her serene, closed-eyed face seized my gaze. I fought the urge to kiss her right then. Perfect timing—scattered clouds were parting just so. I guided her slowly to the railing and whispered in her ear.
"Rail ahead. Plant your feet and stand firm."
"...Huh? Got it."
She was already caught up in the odd, intimate vibe. Our voices naturally dropped to murmurs.
"Hold on. Keep eyes closed...."
"Okay. Won't open 'em."
"You trust me?"
"...Pfft. How could a master not trust her slave?"
She shot back instantly, eyes still shut, as if it were a silly question. I chuckled, spread her arms wide, nudged her knees to bring her legs together on the railing. Her pose formed a perfect cross. She kept her head forward obediently, just as instructed—lips curved in anticipation of whatever fun this was. Pride swelled in me too, matching her excitement.
Matching her pose from behind, our heights aligning, I nestled my head against hers.
"...Wanna open your eyes now?"
Sylvia's eyes flew open to the vast sky, the dizzying drop visible beneath her feet. She gasped in awe.
".........Whoaaa."
We savored the rushing scenery, the shifting vista. Even for a girl who could fly with magic, balancing at this sheer height without spells must feel alien. Her thrilled face, drinking in the world from the heavens beside me, burned into my eyes.
"Somehow... it feels insanely beautiful...."
Peering right beside her, Sylvia blended perfectly with the stunning view, just as she said. Maybe that's why my mouth moved on its own.
"You're prettier."
Sylvia beamed shyly, at a loss for words.
".........Ehehe."
Her flustered dodge felt girly in the best way. Well, she is a girl. But more so today.
Who knew I'd milk that movie scene for such romance? I wrapped my arm around the precariously posed Sylvia; she tore her gaze from the horizon and slowly turned to me.
"...My slave."
"Yeah, master?"
"Kiss me?"
"If that's what you want."
Savoring the wind and view, our lips met naturally—again and again. We lingered at the bow far longer than the actual time suggested... it felt eternal.
Later, we learned the watching witches had their slaves mimic us on the sly. When we heard, Sylvia and I burst out laughing face-to-face.
"Sylvia, we're almost there. Time's up."
"Hngggh...♡?"
The tender mood we'd built led to gentle sex at first—but it ramped up to our usual frenzy by the end. My master collapsed, boneless as ever, unable to move.
Her limp sprawl screamed vulnerability—like a newborn splayed out. Semen-soaked pussy gaping wide, legs akimbo, she couldn't even cover up. Her quivering nipple rings made her shoulders twitch sporadically, lost in aftershocks.
"Hnnngh...♡!? Mmmphhh...♡"
Sploosh. Pffft—pffft—overfilled cum surged back from her womb, mixing with juices in messy spurts. Her piss hole winked open, sneaking out squirts amid the chaos.
"Tch. Can't even pull yourself together, huh, master?"
I slipped a finger into her slack mouth. She sucked it lewdly as I teased her tongue. Yanking it free with wet slurps snapped her lips shut.
Good. Closed nice and natural.
Satisfied, I bundled her naked form in a blanket and headed out—no shower in our cabin. Passing witches clocked our post-sex glow, eyeing us with intrigue. Some virgins shot perverted stares.
Damn, those gazes are sticky.
Male slaves dotted the crowd too. I hugged Sylvia tighter, quickening my pace to the showers. No way I wanted them ogling my master. She was mine alone—even half-asleep, she clung tight.
After washing her and dressing back in the cabin, we hit arrival time. On deck, Sylvia—body still languid—dozed in my arms despite being awake, eyes heavy.
"Yawwwn...."
I bent for a deep, lewd kiss to jolt her senses. She tangled tongues passionately, slurping my saliva like an aphrodisiac.
"Hehehe..."
Grinning dopily, she squeezed me tight before sliding down. Nearby witches who'd eyed our kiss whipped their heads away. Fucking bitches.
Sylvia ignored them, snapping alert and declaring primly to me alone.
"Alright! Let's see just how amazing Witch City really is, slave!"
What to say? Pump her ego, obviously.
"Master, I'm so hyped I'm shivering."
"Hold my hand tight and stick right by me!"
Her confident snort and interlocking fingers were too cute.
As altitude dropped, we disembarked on foot. Flight-capable witches did this for their male slaves—they loved being carried but found piggyback awkward unless necessary. With pricey hover golems like Sylvia's, they could ride together; otherwise, lugging a non-magical slave got old quick.
Sylvia, avoiding eyesores, queued meekly hand-in-hand till our turn.
A funky-styled witch in revealing clothes approached our huddled group, slaves at sides.
"Professors and cadets from Saint Georgia Magic Academy?"
A professor confirmed; she scanned us and nodded.
"Welcome. I'm Melanie, Witch City entrance guard."
"Thank you for allowing our visit."
"...As expected, all little girls. Well, I was one 50 years ago... ahem. One warning: stick to designated zones once inside. No liability otherwise."
Fifty years ago? With that face? How old are you?
A cadet raised her hand.
"Yes? Question?"
"Yeah!!"
"Sigh... shoot."
"Why block off-limits zones? If we can't see, at least tell us how wild they are!"
Melanie smirked, arms crossed, oozing arrogance. Her hole-riddled outfit flashed underwear. Baring sharp canines, her blue eyes curved slyly as she spoke.
"Inside the city, dreams you barely imagine happen in ways beyond imagination. Not recommending for green cadets like you."
"Hey! Give an example at least!"
"Sigh... Typical girls. At least plug your slaves' ears first."
Witches swiftly covered slaves' ears. Sylvia looped her arms around my neck, leaped into princess carry, and lightly cupped my ear—barely blocking.
Melanie's gaze flicked our way, pausing before dropping bombshells. Chills raced up my spine.
These young-looking hags... next-level perverts. Sylvia stayed nonchalant... or barely hiding defiant glee. Other witches blushed crimson; some nosebled. Slaves, ears blocked, paled from the vibe alone.
Melanie eyed the "cute kids" and turned, leading through the gates. We followed into Witch City at last.