Swearing In #2
The library is dark. Nellie’s already left for the evening, so Cancassi and I go around and warm the glow globes. Not too much, just enough to illuminate the library’s atrium, give some of the color back to the darkened stained glass in the windows.
Then, we duck into the alcoves, dragging out the various chaises and chairs. There are a few wizards who will certainly join, but there are a lot of unknowns. I plan optimistically with the number of seats.
When the library is set up, I turn to Cancassi, my face already flushed with excitement. “Is this reckless? Arlon just - he keeps people at a distance for a reason.”
Cancassi grabs the plunging collar of my shirt, yanking it open to let my breasts hang free. “Except for the ones he doesn’t.” I raise an eyebrow and Cancassi scoffs. “You’re going to tell me Arlon doesn’t have favorites?”
Well. They’ve got me there, too.
“So what I’m saying is, you can’t pick favorites if you serve everyone equally,” they say before long fingers tweak my nipples. “You’re bound to be a very different Grandmaster than Arlon, Gal. Embrace it.”
I shiver as they pinch gently. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” they tsk before they tug me forward. “Ready for some decorations, Grandmaster?”
I arch onto my toes, pulling my lower lip between my teeth. “Ready.”
They release me before they grab the wood serving tray from our bag of casting supplies. It’s finely carved with vines and roses, and two of the corners have delicate silver chains attached to them. At the end of each chain is a mean-looking butterfly clamp.
There is a small tie on the front of my corset that gets looped through a hole in the tray.
Cancassi raises the tray, bringing it to a serving position before they close the little clamps onto my nipples.
I hiss as the weight tugs on my sensitive skin, but I resist lifting my hands to help support it.
Cancassi circles me before they pull my hands behind my back. Smooth magiline rings are slipped over my fingers before leather encases my arms. The binder cinches all the way up my forearms, and straps over my shoulders help keep it securely in place.
As Cancassi works, people start to trickle in. Sly grins shine in the dim light as a handful of wizards take a seat around the library. Cancassi finishes with the arm binder, leaving me standing like a human serving tray as more people filter into the library.
There’s a rattle of wheels before two of the kitchen staff enter with a rolling cart.
It’s laden with steaming pots of tea, cups stacked high.
They leave it just inside the ring of seats before retreating, though the plump blond - Felicity, if I remember right - casts one more amazed look my way before scurrying off.
Already the mood is heady. People have come curious. Eager.
My breaths come in quick gasps due to the tightness of the corset, and the feeling of so many eyes makes heat pool between my legs.
By the time the bell signals the end of dinner, there are no less than twenty-five wizards seated comfortably around the library, some perched on armrests for lack of proper seating.
“Welcome, everyone,” I say. “I’m glad you all decided to join for tea.”
Chuckles ripple around the room, sending shivers over my skin.
Ambra and Iona share a couch, while Thaddius sits on the ground at their feet.
Adan and Rosemarie whisper to each other behind a raised hand while Cecily sits on the ground in front of Fey, her broad shoulders comfortably rested against the tiny woman’s legs.
Orabelle has found a chair in the back with the quiet conjurer Hughes, while Marvin chats with Sergei and Emil.
There are others I know by face, and possibly by name, but by the end of the night, I aim to be certain.
“What’s on the menu tonight, Grandmaster?” Ambra asks as she twirls a golden curl around one finger.
Something about the title in this situation brings a smile to my lips. “Cancassi provided the tea. Rosehip with bitter orange peel, sweetened with honey.”
“Sounds lovely,” Iona says as her fingers drag through Thaddius’ hair. His eyes are on my pinched nipples, his hand rubbing unconsciously over his chest. It makes me wonder how often they’ve held tea parties like this. “What’s for dessert?”
I cock a hip, looking as coy as I can with my arms bound and my tits out. “I am.”
There are a few whoops from the assembled wizards, and I hide a shiver.
“Here’s how the game is going to work,” I say as Cancassi’s cane taps to circle behind me.
“Most of you, I know. Many of you, I’ve cast with.
But I’m still becoming familiar with the full roster of the Crux,” I say as my eyes linger on the wizards I only know by face.
“By the end of the night, I want to know everyone.”
Cancassi’s hand slides around my waist before they find the tie of my skirt. They tug the knot loose, allowing the flowing black fabric to slide down my bare legs. There are a few appreciative cheers and whistles from the assembled wizards.
“Is touching allowed?” The man who asks is a few years older than me with a strong jaw, a splash of white cutting through his dark brown hair at his left temple. I recognize him from one of the stormy summer nights spent in the divination tower, but his name escapes me entirely.
“Even better,” I say as Cancassi pulls out a coil of knotted rope.
They thread it through my legs, handing one end to Ambra while they keep hold of the other.
“I’m going to learn all of your names while I serve tea.
If I’ve forgotten anyone by the end, you will get the opportunity to make sure I never forget. ”
“So, we get to fuck the Grandmaster of the Crux?” Iona asks before tsking. “It’s a shame you already know me, Galiva.”
The man with the white streak barks a laugh, and I like him immediately. The energy in the room makes heat drip between my legs.
I realize what a rare opportunity this is.
People fall naturally into casting circles when they join the Crux.
Newcomers drift towards other newcomers like I did with Olbric and Cancassi, or mentors take new adepts under their wing like I did with Dom.
People who have been at the Crux for longer tend to stick to their circles, but I’m glad to give an opportunity for people to mingle in a less charged setting than the parties during the summer storms.
Cancassi takes a cup from the tray before filling it with floral tea. They set it on my tray, and the extra weight forces me to bite back a groan. They’ve filled it very full, and I straighten, steadying my breath to avoid spilling.
“How about you take that one to Ambra?” Cancassi suggests. Between them and Ambra, they lift until the knotted rope is pulled firmly against my crotch. The friction of it against my sensitive skin makes my first step an unsteady one.
Gods, what have I signed myself up for?
The rope slides between the folds of my cunt as I take another step forward, but I only hit the first knot as I finish my last step towards Ambra. The rope suddenly goes slack, and I bite back a groan of relief as I kneel.
“For you, Ambra,” I say, and the woman beams at me as she lifts the cup from my tray.
“Thank you, Grandmaster,” she says and hands the end of the rope to Iona next.
I’m allowed to walk back to Cancassi without the drag of the rope, but as soon as the second cup is placed on my tray, it pulls taut between my legs again.
It’s only a slight distance longer to reach Iona, but I feel every extra inch before I kneel to offer Iona her cup.
Thaddius is next, and he hands the rope off to a woman I only recognize by face. Her skin is pale, and she has strong features that are brushed by short-cropped black hair. She wears a smile as I approach, and my cunt drags over another knot before I kneel.
“Remind me your name,” I say, breathless already.
The woman chuckles as she takes the cup. “Rega. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Grandmaster.”
The name connects, and I know her from the spell sheets as an illusionist and enchanter. Which means that the petite, Lenear-tan woman beside her is likely Korina. It’s only confirmed after I present her a cup. She beams at me as I say, “For you, Korina.”
I continue dutifully on, taking each teacup, walking down the rope, and kneeling to present it to the next person before I return to Cancassi.
Around me, conversations have kicked up.
Laughter and jeers follow every stumble, and soon enough, a bet starts to circulate on if I’ll spill or break a cup.
So far so good on that front, but the attention, the feeling of so many eyes on me, watching me, makes my body feel hot.
My nipples throb with every heartbeat, my cunt and clit aching from the rough stimulation of the rope. I serve Adan and Rosemarie before moving onto Sergei and Emil. Marvin takes his with a smile before I move onto Zoran.
The older Kenitkan man takes his cup before lifting it in thanks.
We came to an agreement a long time ago that we wouldn’t directly cast with one another, so I know he’s simply here to watch.
When I first arrived at the Crux, we had a long conversation about whether we would cross that line, but ultimately him having cast with my mother while she was in residence made it just a touch too awkward for us both.
I make it about halfway around the room when my composure finally breaks. The knot rubs in just the right way as I walk over it, and I can’t help a moan as a weak orgasm washes through me. My legs shake, and the teacup slides precariously.
The whole room lets out an anticipatory sound, but before the cup can topple from the tray, I righten myself with a gasp. A splash of tea sloshes out of the cup, but the cup doesn’t leave the tray.