The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft, muted hues. I stirred, a profound sense of satiation deep in my bones, my body humming with renewed, vibrant energy. Last night had been a symphony of raw conquest, of breaking and rebuilding, and the echoes of Gretchen's cries of surrender still resonated in the quiet. Her body, bathed in semen and with condoms bulging in her conquered holes, had finally collapsed against me after I released her restraints. She'd slept soundly in my arms, utterly spent, utterly mine.
I lay in a state of contented semi-consciousness, feeling the warmth of Gretchen's naked form pressed against mine. A subtle shift beside me brought me more fully awake, though I kept my eyes closed. I felt her stir, then the light brush of her hair against my chest. A soft, reverent sigh escaped her lips as she must have taken in the scene – my arm around her, our bodies entwined, the lingering scent of our shared debauchery thick in the air.
Then, a new sensation. A gentle, tentative warmth encircled my hard dick, which, as usual, had awoken with a mind of its own. Her touch was feather-light at first, a soft caress, then a gentle suction. "Mmmph..." A low, hungry moan rumbled from her throat as she took me in. Her lips were soft, her tongue a velvet caress, circling the head of my dick, teasing, tasting. The suction increased, pulling me deeper, her skilled mouth milking every inch with practiced ease. "Sluuuurp! Ahhh..." she hummed around me, a sound of pure, unadulterated devotion. Her rhythm was slow, deliberate, savoring each stroke, each ripple of muscle in her throat. She was a silent, eager servant, fulfilling her purpose without a single word, driven by pure instinct and the deep-seated desire to please. The subtle pressure, the exquisite warmth, the soft lapping of her tongue – it was a delicious, silent worship.
As she worked, a powerful surge of energy coursed through me. My Sextony skill, the insidious magic of Essence Transfer, was actively devouring her stats, making them mine. I felt a delicious, undeniable thrum deep within.
My system registered the gains:
Strength: 110 (Improved!) - A deeper rooted power.
Agility: 95 (Improved!) - Movements felt smoother, more fluid.
Mana: 85 (Improved!) - A distinct hum of magical potential.
Constitution: 120 (Improved!) - My body felt like a fortress.
Charisma: 140 (Improved!) - A subtle magnetic pull, my presence more commanding.
Luck: 50 (Improved!) - A flicker of new possibilities.
These were substantial gains, a testament to Gretchen's raw power and her utter submission.
Finally, with a soft, satisfied "Mmm..." she pulled away, leaving my dick wet and gleaming. She looked up at me, her eyes clear now, filled with an almost painful adoration. "Good morning, Master," she whispered, her voice husky, a faint blush still on her cheeks.
I ran a hand through her hair, a possessive gesture. "Good morning, Gretchen. You were... eager."
She lowered her gaze, a shy, almost humble look on her face. "It's my duty, Master. To serve you. To ensure you are always... satisfied." She then looked at me with a more serious expression. "Master, you asked about the village chief, the Matron Mage."
I nodded, my interest piqued. "Indeed. Tell me what you know."
"Her name is Elara, Master," Gretchen began, her voice soft but clear. "She's a powerful mage, the strongest in the village. Around 35, married for about ten years. It's well known that she and her husband haven't been able to have children. The rumors, Master, are that her husband... isn't able to fulfill her in bed. It's why her own power, her stats, aren't increasing as they should."
My mind immediately began to whir. A powerful mage, unfulfilled, with stagnant stats due to her husband's impotence? This was a goldmine.
"She's looking for a cure for him," Gretchen continued, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "She practices very hard every morning. You'll find her on the training grounds just outside the main village gate, usually at sunrise. She's... very dedicated."
I smirked, a predatory glint in my eyes. "A dedicated woman, unfulfilled, seeking a cure." I looked at Gretchen, her eyes wide, understanding dawning. "This is very important information, Gretchen. You've done well."
She beamed, a genuine smile replacing her usual submissive expression. "Anything for you, Master."
I swung my legs out of bed, the surge of new power invigorating me. When I entered the living area, Amelia was already there, impeccably dressed and looking at me with a knowing smirk.
"Rough night, Master?" she teased, her eyes sparkling.
"Smooth as silk, Amelia," I replied, a subtle grin touching my lips. "Every kink fulfilled, every desire sated. But there's work to do."
We headed to breakfast, and Gretchen, already in the kitchen, greeted us with a cheerful smile, though her movements were a bit stiff. As she served our meal, I casually reached out and stroked her firm butt. It was a subtle gesture, meant only for her, a silent reminder of her new place. Her breath hitched, and a faint blush crept up her neck, but she didn't protest. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a fleeting, almost imperceptible flicker of something in Amelia's expression – a slight tightening around her lips, a subtle narrowing of her eyes. A hint of jealousy. Interesting.
After a quick and satisfying breakfast, Amelia and I made our way to the training grounds. Just as Gretchen had described, a figure was already there, moving with intense focus. It was Elara, the Matron Mage, her movements powerful and precise as she practiced, clearly pushing her limits. I confirmed it by reading her mind.
I approached her, a casual, friendly smile on my face. "Good morning," I greeted, keeping my voice light. "I'm James, a practitioner of medicine, just passing through. I noticed your dedication and thought perhaps you might be in need of some consultation."
Elara stopped, her movements fluid as she turned. Her gaze was sharp, suspicious, scrutinizing me. "Medicine, you say? I'm not sure I need any traveling healers." Her tone was dismissive.
Amelia, sensing the need, stepped forward. Her Charisma skill instantly activated, a warm, reassuring aura emanating from her. "Please forgive my Master's directness," she began, her voice like smooth honey. "He has a gift, a unique understanding of... complex ailments that others often overlook. He truly means no harm, only to offer assistance where it's most needed. We've heard whispers in the inn, Matron Elara, of certain... challenges that even the most powerful find difficult to overcome alone."
Elara's expression softened, suspicion slowly giving way to a flicker of hope. Amelia's words, imbued with potent charm, seemed to bypass her usual defenses. She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Challenges, yes. My husband... he's a good man, but he's... impotent. And it's more than that. He's incredibly submissive. He just doesn't... get hard unless he's utterly humiliated. He wants his respect as a man to be broken. I am looking for a cure for my husband." Her voice trailed off, a mix of shame and desperate frustration.
Amelia and I exchanged a brief glance. This was even better than the rumors suggested. We stepped a little to the side to discuss, while staying in the inn i came to know that some Matron Mages, when their husbands couldn't fulfill their desires, did indeed seek release with other powerful mages, particularly other Matrons. The idea of training, humiliation, and power dynamics was also strongly present in the subconscious of many, a common thread in the more... unconventional practices of some mages.
After a short, hushed discussion where I subtly guided Amelia with the information I'd gleaned, she turned back to Elara, her expression sympathetic but firm.
"Elara," Amelia began, her voice dropping to a confidential tone, "we understand your predicament is... sensitive. But in our travels, we have encountered similar situations. There are whispers among certain Matron Mages, for instance, of fulfilling their desires with other powerful women, particularly when their partners cannot. What if... what if we explored a different kind of therapy for your husband? Something that incorporates his... unique needs?"
Elara's brows furrowed in thought, a flicker of surprise, then intrigue, crossing her face. "With... another Matron? And my husband... what do you propose?"
Amelia leaned in slightly, her voice a seductive whisper that carried just enough for Elara to hear. "We could begin with me. I could engage you in a rigorous sexual training session in front of your husband. My methods are... quite intense. I would push you, challenge you, perhaps even... humiliate you in some ways. Not truly, of course, but enough to trigger his particular... arousal. To hit his male ego, to break that barrier within him, and then... then perhaps he will find his fire." Amelia's eyes held Elara's, her Charisma weaving a potent spell, painting a picture of both solution and tantalizing forbidden fruit.
Elara considered it for a long moment, her gaze distant, lost in the possibilities. The thought of relief, of her husband's potential cure, mingled with a new, unexpected flicker of desire born from Amelia's words. "Will it... will it truly cure him?" she asked, her voice tinged with a desperate hope.
Amelia smiled, a sweet, reassuring, yet subtly manipulative smile. "Why don't we start with something small? A focused sexual training session for you, in front of him. We can observe his reaction. If it proceeds as we hypothesize, then we can continue with a more comprehensive plan. If not, we will devise a new approach. There's no harm in trying, is there, Elara? You have nothing to lose but your current frustration."