Novice Conjurer, Anal Master

Title: Nannityr: Novice Conjurer, Anal Master

By: J. H. Beach

TAGS: Monster Girl (Satyr/Nannityr), Corporate Satire, Greek Myth, MF, P-in-V, BJ, Anal, Multiple Partners (One at a Time), litRPG-LITE.

litRPG-LITE: Dungeon Core and litRPG-inspired world, but NO System. No system-enforced skills, no floating blue screens and no stats or character sheets beyond a job-seeker resume. Skills are gained organically--through hard work and practice. Perks are gained the old-fashioned way--by blowing your boss before asking for a promotion.

Note: There is a glossary/lexicon at the end. Unfortunately, I do not know how the ancient Greek letters are going to show up on Literotica. com.

Act I: Management Track (Part 1 of 4)

Chapter 1

"Chloe, you're up!"

I glance at the huge bronze doors before us. Celestial sunlight radiates from everywhere lighting the small astral island and classical--think Greek or Roman--marble stonework all around us. Behind us a golden sunlight bridge stretches back towards the main astral island, which, from a distance looks like Olympus merged with Asgard--like from the movies. It's like a city on a mountain with waterfalls falling into... nowhere. Other, smaller islands float around the main island as neighboring nodes in a network but none of their sunlight trails are activated.

But the... delve hadn't seemed like a city or a mountain when we'd been there. Just a few narrow streets, some courtyards and a fountain square or two. We hadn't met much resistance, just a couple satyrs and a minotaur and our ambrosia haul was...

... pitiful.

You see, the religious hypist would say, "The rapture has happened! The apocalypse is here! The gods walk the Earth!"

Except they don't. Not often. Instead they tempt us into their realms with ambrosia--ambrosia wine, ambrosia candy bar ingots, ambrosia jelly. The stuff is miraculous. It cures heart disease. It cures cancer. It cures... STDs and a whole host of other things. It even cures somatic aging. With the correct application of ambrosia, a seventy year old woman can have the body of an eighteen year old girl.

It takes a lot though and the billionaires are stockpiling the stuff. They think it can make them one of the gods. Who knows? They might be right. Even a daily wine glass of the stuff powers noob level magic in a wish-she-could-make-something-of-herself-girl like me.

So, Earth's entire economy is now based on the stuff. Governments, billionaires, corporations, religions and... even hospitals sponsor extraction teams to "delve" into the astral pocket realms of the gods and return with ambrosia.

Delves range from modern combat war zones to gothic horror castles to hell-scapes to, well, this--or, in most cases, a more functional version of this. I'm just a novice conjurer but whatever pocket realm we stepped into is the most pitiful extraction I've ever been on.

However, there is one thing that is common to all delves.

Bottlenecks.

Doors, draw bridges, rainbow paths, hell portals, celestial gateways and the like that all have the same basic mechanic to open. That mechanic could be expressed as--man fuck woman. Often in some very specific ways... and the woman is always required to orgasm. The path won't open until she does. If all the women on an ambrosia extraction team die? The men are in freaking trouble.

Goes both ways though, because the bronze double door edifice before us depicts a woman taking a load up her butt. That's... why I'm up.

My resume reads:

Chloe Freeman

Logistics Specialist

MBA, Logistics & Management Sciences, blah-blah university, 3.98 GPA

Blah-blah, company such-and-such date. Blah-blah employer such-and-such date.

Extraction Expertise: Conjurer--Novice. Oral--Apprentice. Vaginal--Adept. Anal--Master. Nipple-play--Novice. Boob-job--Neophyte...

... because they're not big enough. My chest endowments are... modest. No, I don't mean small!

...

...

... asshole.

Anyhow, it took me a fuck-ton of practice to gain anal mastery but it means a small dollop of lube and I'm ready. I can come from anal stimulation alone. It's why I'm included on delves. I'm working on conjurer--novice is pretty piss poor--but not a lot of girls can squirt their brains out their fun-hole from dick in butt with no other touch. It's why I'm included on extractions. It's why I have access to a small stockpile of ambrosia wine at my apartment so I can work at becoming a conjurer. It's why... I'm up.

I look at the doors again and sigh. It's my least favorite... position. No, the face down, butt up, that's fine. It's the freaking chains. I do bondage, I practice bondage, because I kinda freaking have to... or quit... which is not an option I want to take... but I don't like how vulnerable that makes me right in the middle of a freaking extraction. At home, on my bed, fine, but here?

Not my favorite.

There's a roar in the distance. It's a long way away. Whatever it was will take some time to get here but it's a good reminder that maybe it's time to present my butt.

"Chloe, what the fuck's the holdup?"

I roll my eyes, because, really? It's been like one second. I walk to the front of our small party and wonder who's doing the honors. I'm a bit new to this team--but Kyle is like a gladiator in army fatigues and I don't have to sink far into my fantasies to pussy-clamp while looking at him. Lance is our white-knight and from the number of times I've had to wait while he fucked Sue, I know he's... not bad... actually, quite good... and has stamina. Toby is our karate-kid merged with Moses dude--yes, I know, mind-bending combo but I think it's the quarterstaff. He's fit and I suppose... attractive but he's my height which doesn't exactly do much to make my panties drip.

I drop my utility chest rig off to one side. It's got every pocket, pouch and clip a girl might want when she has to leave her purse behind, but no, it's not actually body armor. Kevlar, Dyneema and trauma plates are... numena-inhibiting. Many materials, including ceramics, interfere with ambrosia magic. A spell-blade can get away with light armor, but a conjurer--especially a novice conjurer--is going to have real trouble casting while wearing modern protective gear. I release the magnetic ready-quick hasps on my low-rise cargo pants, kick off my sneakers and roll my ribbed tank up to, you know, the underside of my boobs. Pull out and jizz on my butt? Fine. Spunk happens. Pull out and jizz on my one change of clothes? Eff you.

Lance uses his heel to drag my utility rig towards our miniscule pile of ambrosia loot. Um... thank you?

I side eye the pile that'll now be beyond my reach when chained but it'll also beyond accidental fire-hosing. I ease to my knees in front of the doors. Clipping the bronze shackles around my ankles is awkward, the right cuff on my wrist is not but the left? I've got to go face down butt up, link the chains and then cuff myself. It takes thirty seconds or so.

"It's like she's done it before," Sue snarks. I grit my teeth because she and I are like thermite and fuse. We're fine right up until the claws come out--then the witch makes me so hot I could melt steel. I'm pretty sure she's pissed the team needs me. She's better than me in every way except taking a load up the butt. She's a project engineer, par grandmaster. Her spells make mine look like Tinker-Toys. She's as hot as Briseis of Achilles-versus-Agamemnon fame. She can make a dude come by sitting in his lap, no thrust, no grind. As far as she's concerned I'm dead weight unless, you know, this, and she's made it no secret that she resents that I get an equal cut of the ambrosia haul. Her boyfriends... Kyle, Lance, Toby... all appear to be on her side. I think she's jealous.

Honestly, I would be too. Toby... I'd be okay, but Kyle and Lance? Ohmigod. Our new world has encouraged a lot of changes. Sharing and reverse harems are one of them but it doesn't mean the human psych has adapted yet.

"Gods, Chloe, that's one fine ass." Kyle's voice is husky as he steps up. I guess it's his turn. That's... good. For me sex is as much mental as it's physical. He's got a monster downstairs but that's okay. I can take it and those muscles?

Girl drool.

I wiggle my butt a little, relax in my fetters and... drift tuning out everything except what I need. Pressentation. Hot weight between my butt cheeks. The silky slow slide between my globes as I'm hot-dogged. The low groan that exits my chest when the rough pad of Kyle's finger find my fun-button. I don't need to be touched but I'm not going to say no.

"Gods, listen to the little bitch. It's like she's in heat or something."

I lift my head as far as I can--I'm, you know, shackled like this--and glare at Sue's red sneakers. Kyle chooses that exact moment to push himself against me and I--urk!

It's not like he has a difficult time. I keep myself... pliable. Hot meat that's not me is a heavy weight in my body. I squirm as best I can helping him deeper. I suck in a shuddering breath, he draws back and... slams forward. My vision goes blurry. It's like my eyes have rolled up into the back of my head. My lashes flutter and, yeah...

That.

Feels.

Good.

Perhaps, not every girl would like it... but I do. I trained myself to. The heavy slide in my backdoor causes my girl-fun-hole to leak with envy. Beads of hot slick slide, as if on a thread, all the way to a puddle of girl lube forming on floor. I throb with every piston of Kyle's sword, my body begging for more. I release a long sigh with Kyle's next slide.

"What a whore."

You know? What is it with some people that they have to tear the rest of us down when we do... what we do? I try to ignore it but Sue's words knocked me from my groove. It delays my pleasure and our escape from this place. We all want that... right?

Gurk. Kyle thrusts and I clamp and flutter and squeeze.

"Oh, fuck..." he groans from behind me. My sphincter is like a burning cock ring cinching down around his root. I'd better hurry up because Kyle doesn't have long and... I'm the one that has to come. I lay my cheek against the cool marble floor and...

... and...

... and moan. My boobs are five times too heavy. Heat pools in my core. My toes curl and my fingers wiggle helplessly between my ankles. I want to claw something. Need to claw something. I--fuck!

Freaking a-fuck!

My muscles seize. My back bows. The tight coil of tension in my fun-button pulls and then... cracks.

I jerk in my bonds. My thighs quake as I drum my feet against stone. My core ripples and my mouth pops open.

"Ohmigods," I moan. Coming quiet is sometimes important while on an extraction so I'm not loud but I can't not make a sound. The weighty thrum in my butt--it's just too good. Heat that's not my own wicks through me and I know we're nearly done.

Something bellows. It's closer now but still far. We've got plenty of time. My continuing contractions slowly push Kyle's wilting member from me. The celestial key that'll release me clatters to floor two inches in front of my nose. If I really stretched I might be able to reach it with my teeth but with my hands cuffed to the shackles around my ankles there's no way I'm using it to free me. That's what the team is for.

The monolithic bronze that guards our escape cracks open before us with a rumble that makes the entire island shake. A beam of sunlight--Earth's sunlight--casts an ever widening caustic--a pool of brighter light--upon the marble floor. Celestial light is pleasant but there's nothing quite like... home. It's late afternoon and the sea breeze that blows carries a pleasant perfume of saltwater and evergreens. Dead-end butt-fuck delve's--or whatever its name is--gate opens less than a day's drive from Seattle out on the Olympic Peninsula.

Kyle buckles up behind me. There's a sharp stinging crack on my ass and I yelp in surprise. It's not uncommon, but I hadn't expected that just now. It usually comes before, not after.

"Good job, princess."

Yeah, that's me, I'm the anal princess. I'm actually getting a reputation amongst the noob extraction community... but whatever. I wait for someone to pick up the key and release me. Kyle stands and Lance hauls the bag of our loot off the floor.

"Guys...?" I ask. My voice sounds as uncertain as I feel. There's a moment of silence and... not good.

"Kyle...?"

No response.

"Lance...?"

I can't lift my head that far off the floor but I can lift it high enough to see the man striding away from me.

"Toby!" I shriek. Betrayals happen but I vetted them! They have--had--a spotless reputation. Sure, they're new-ish but I'm new too.

"Now who's the cum dump?" Sue says, laughing. Her sneakers squeak as she turns to stride after the men. "Thanks for your contribution but to the victor go the spoils. We'll put it to good use," Sue calls back over her shoulder.

I thrash and cry and scream in my chains. I never once thought she was a cum dump. We do what we have to do to survive. They don't have to be doing this! The bronze doors shudder as they reverse their direction after the trice-hexed-witch clears their threshold. They didn't even leave my clothes. I have a key I can't reach. Bound hands. Bound feet. Tank top.

Socks.

Probably because I never took them off. I scream one last time as the celestial bronze grinds closed with an ominous boom. I'm sobbing and although I try, I can't quite stop.

I shimmy in the chains trying to reach the key but while I manage to touch it with my nose, there's no freaking way I can work it down to my hands... not in time at least. There's another bellow and it's closer. A terrified sob flies from my throat. I'm twenty-six. I don't want to die.

Clip. Clop. The stride is heavy--sounds like stone on stone. I swear the paving tiles tremble under the beast's tread. It's shadow, such as it is in the directionless celestial light, falls over me. A loud snort blows hot, wet wind over my raised ass. I smell alfalfa, cud and a heavy musk. I whimper. I don't know if I'm going to be killed, breed or both. It's not like I can do anything about it.

The shadow bends and swells around me. Big, heavy, blunt fingers tangle in my at-the-office ponytail. I don't know if means to or not but my face is ground into the marble pavers by its casual strength.

"Easy, girl."

Startled by the deep rumble, I squeak--I mean, just a little--I'm not a mouse, I swear.

"This is going to hurt." A beat. A second beat. "Sorry."

"What'sgoingto--" Yow! The pain burning into my butt is so bad I can't even scream. It's like a billion bees used three square inches of my right butt cheek for a landing pad. Something cool and soothing--possibly ambrosia jelly--is slimed over the spot and the pain recedes a little... no, a lot. It stops hurting, like, totally, before my tears can really get going.

A huge hand plops down an inch in front of my face. Massive blunt fingers fumble for the key that's too tiny for the hand. The thumb looks as enormous as Kyle's dick felt--so likely bigger. The minotaur's hand belongs on Goliath.

When the beast straightens I squeeze my eyes closed expecting to be dragged with it. My ankle chains are anchored in the floor and my wrist cuffs hooked around my ankle chains so I brace myself for the shock of losing my hands and feet all in one go. But...

... that doesn't happen.

"Boss owns you now," the beast rumbles. It's a deep, gravelly bass, surprisingly calm. "Left you chained up good, didn't they? Hold still. Key's small." He grunts, his huge thumb almost hiding the bronze lock entirely as he pinches the key. After a few awkward fumbles, my cuffs snap free. "Name's Daryl," he adds. He glances around as if looking for my gear and then down at my socks. "Didn't leave you much, did they. Let's get going. Boss is fixin' to start a raid."

I blink up at the nine-foot tall... Hereford. His coat is a deep chestnut red. There's a white patch on the millstone slabs of muscle he probably calls his chest. A blaze on his bovine nose. His black nostrils flare... and I shrink back a step but he's not some Angus blowing smoke out his nose. He's just breathing. My eyes dip and I realize I'm wearing more clothes than he is. I bite my lip and groan. It's enough to make me clench but I'm glad... so, so glad I'm not being split by that.

Of course I still might be. Mobs come from somewhere and rumor has it...

No. No! Nope! Let's not think about that. I pull my tank top down but, no, it's not long enough. Not even close. There's a twitch and, yeah, he's affected but rather than trying me on for size he turns and clomps back the way he came.

"You commin'?"

Um... I gnaw my lip and glance around. The island is like some grand classical gateway guard house. Impressive pillars. Shining white stone. Gold gilding on the classical frescoes decorating every arch and beam. But there's one way in and one way out with the bronze monolith gates closed. There's absolutely nowhere else for me to go. He walks right out over empty space and the crystal sunlight bridge that Sue had to writhe on Lance's dick to extend materializes under his dinner plate sized hooves. I leap to his side. I don't want to find out what happens if the bridge won't materialize under my tread.

Ill at ease with the silence I run my hand over my butt. Feeling the subtle scarring, I ask, "What did you do to me back there?"

Similar to how the divine key that opened my chains seemingly appeared from nowhere, Daryl produces a cattle brand. The business end is on the small side but... it's maybe three inches wide and some bit taller. My ancient Greek is terrible--and this is backwards--but all delvers learn a bit of ancient Greek, Latin, Old Norse and Sanskrit--amongst other languages--as it's just prudent.

Ἄρεως... "Areōs...? Of Ares? Property of Ares?!" I shriek. Property--or prize--is kind of implied when you have a god's name branded on your freaking ass. "I belong to a war god!" How is this a war god's realm? Thor's pocket dimension is supposed to be freaking impossible--few, and never a whole extraction team, come back from that. Maybe this is Ares' forgotten kiddy playground or something. Maybe I'll be transferred to some battleground hell-scape... not sure I want that.

"Ares is... cut from a different piece of bronze."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

Well, that's informative... not. I glance up at my... minder? He doesn't pay my sour expression any mind.

We reach the ragged lawn and goat-gnawed hedges on the far side of the bridge. There's no sign of the two satyrs the asshole-betrayers and I slew here. I do see the burnt skeleton of the apple tree the out-of-control fire-nymph I summoned torched.

I hadn't been much help in that battle. Or... I examine the minotaur towering above me.

"Daryl... did we kill you?"

"Yup."

My gaze drops to my toes. My rainbow socks are starting to hole. "I'm sorry," I say, trying to wrap my head around the idea that I'm talking to an undead cow. I've heard rumors--every delver has--that mobs respawn somehow, but as they say, seeing is believing and, well, I didn't see anything.

"Did it... hurt?"

"Yup."

"I'm sorry," I mumble again. And, strangely, I find that I am despite what was burned into my butt. So far, he's treated me kinder than my, err... friends. Not that that might not change. There's still the whole where do mobs come from question.

Are there female minotaurs? Taurinas? Do they get printed out of raw numena in some backroom respawn node, or is there a nursery realm somewhere in the astral network where baby Daryl-lite calves are running around incurring a massive overhead tax on the local god's balance sheet?