Chapter 275: Fucking The Professor

The interior of the Crimson Flame Spirit Wyrm’s lair was a place of primal heat and breathtaking, terrible beauty. The air, thick with the scent of ozone and ancient stone, was surprisingly breathable, circulated by unseen geothermal vents.

The cave was vast, a volcanic cathedral. Its walls weren’t just rock; they were embedded with veins of raw, unprocessed fire gems and obsidian, which pulsed with a soft, internal crimson light, bathing the entire chamber in a hellish, yet mesmerizing, glow.

At the very back of the cavern lay the Wyrm’s hoard. Not just gold and jewels, though there were mountains of those, glinting greedily in the pulsating light, but also rare, heat-resistant ores, petrified dragon eggs from forgotten epochs, and several ancient, powerful-looking artifacts half-buried in the treasure.

Alaric carried Professor Lilliana inside, his steps sure-footed on the uneven, glassy floor. Kai, the Azure Roc, remained dutifully at the cave entrance, a magnificent, intimidating sentinel whose azure aura provided a stark contrast to the chamber’s crimson glow. Its presence alone would deter any lesser creature, and its powerful senses would warn of any approaching threat, including Alaric’s own subordinates. They would not dare to interrupt.

He laid Lilliana down gently on a surprisingly soft patch of ashen sand near the edge of the treasure hoard. Her body was limp in his arms, the healing pill having dulled the immediate pain of her burns but leaving her feeling strangely weak, her limbs heavy, her connection to her vast arcane reserves severed.

“Alaric…” she whispered, her emerald eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and exhaustion as she looked up at him. “My magic… it’s… gone. I can’t feel it.”

“The draconic fire of the Wyrm carries a potent magical toxin, Professor,” Alaric lied smoothly, his voice a perfect blend of concern and scholarly confidence. He knelt beside her, his face a mask of sincere worry. “It temporarily disrupts a mage’s connection to their mana channels. The healing pill I gave you is counteracting the physical damage, but the magical suppression will take time to fade. You need to rest here, where the residual heat can help your body metabolize the toxin.”

Lilliana stared at him, wanting to believe his logical, reassuring explanation. It made sense. A powerful beast like the Wyrm would undoubtedly possess unique, debilitating abilities. Magical exhaustion, coupled with a specialized toxin… yes, that felt plausible. It certainly felt better than the terrifying alternative – that her power had simply vanished forever.

“I… I see,” she murmured, a wave of relief washing over her, quickly followed by a profound sense of vulnerability. An Archmage without her magic was like a dragon without its fire. She was helpless. Utterly reliant on him.

’She believes it completely,’ Alaric noted with satisfaction. The Mana Sealing Pill was one of his more insidious alchemical creations, developed with Iridelle’s help, designed specifically for situations like this. It provided genuine healing while simultaneously severing the target’s connection to their mana core for a period of twelve to twenty-four hours, depending on their resilience. ’Now she is weak, grateful, and entirely dependent. The perfect conditions for… persuasion.’

“Rest easy, Professor,” Alaric said, his voice a soothing balm. He began to gently examine the burn on her shoulder, his touch clinical at first. “Let me see the extent of the damage.”

Her training robe was scorched and partially melted around the wound. With a soft murmur of apology, Alaric carefully tore the fabric away, exposing the angry red burn on her pale shoulder and the elegant curve of her neck.

“This needs to be treated properly,” he stated, his voice still professional.

As he spoke, he “accidentally” inhaled sharply, then coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. “This air… strange. The Wyrm’s musk, perhaps? It’s… rather potent.”

Lilliana frowned. “I don’t smell anything unusual, Alaric. Just sulfur and heat.”

“Perhaps my senses are more attuned to it,” Alaric said, feigning a slight light-headedness. “It feels… warm. Disorienting. You don’t feel anything, Professor?”

He was subtly releasing a nearly imperceptible, magically dispersed aphrodisiac into the air around them – a tasteless, odorless concoction brewed by Shaila Bloomwater under his specific instructions, designed to lower inhibitions and heighten physical sensitivity. He had brought it along precisely for this occasion. He would blame everything that happened next on the lingering, pheromonal aura of the dead Wyrm. The perfect, undeniable excuse for a proud Archmage to explain her eventual surrender.

Lilliana shook her head. “No, just… weak.” But as Alaric spoke, a strange, creeping warmth began to spread through her veins, a heat that had nothing to do with the caldera outside. Her skin began to feel exquisitely sensitive, the cool air of the cave a tingling caress.

Alaric produced a small jar of glowing, silvery salve from his storage ring. “A regenerative balm. This will prevent scarring and accelerate the healing process.” His fingers dipped into the cool salve, then moved to her shoulder.

His touch was no longer clinical. As his fingers smoothed the balm over her burned skin, they lingered, stroking the uninjured areas, tracing the line of her collarbone, the delicate curve of her neck. Lilliana shivered, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“Alaric…” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. His touch, combined with the strange warmth spreading through her body, was sending confusing, illicit signals to her brain.

“Easy, Professor,” he murmured, his voice now a low, husky purr. His eyes, she noticed, seemed to have taken on a deeper, more intense ruby glow. His [Captivating Gaze!] was now active, weaving its mesmerizing spell upon her weakened will. “I’m just taking care of you.”

His hand moved from her shoulder, his fingers gently stroking her arm. “You were so brave out there, Lilliana,” he whispered, using her first name for the first time, the intimacy of it sending another jolt through her. “Facing that beast. Protecting your students. Protecting me.”

He subtly activated [Resonant Heart!], planting the thought deep within her subconscious. ’He admires my strength. He sees me not just as a teacher, but as a brave woman.’

Lilliana felt a flush of pride mixed with something else, something warmer, more personal. ’He… he noticed. He saw my courage.’

Alaric’s other hand came to rest on her hip, his thumb drawing slow, hypnotic circles. “But even the strongest warriors need care,” he continued, his voice like velvet. “Need to be… tended to.”

He leaned closer, his warm breath caressing her cheek. The aphrodisiac was in full effect now, her body humming with a strange, insistent need. The logic centers of her Archmage brain screamed a warning – ’This is wrong! He is your student! This is inappropriate!’ – but those warnings were being drowned out by a rising tide of sensation, of heat, of a desperate, unfamiliar longing.

“Alaric… we shouldn’t…” she managed to whisper, her voice weak, her body betraying her by leaning almost imperceptibly into his touch.

“Shouldn’t what, Lilliana?” he murmured, his lips now brushing against her earlobe, sending a shower of sparks down her spine. “Shouldn’t allow yourself a moment of comfort? A moment of… release… after all you’ve endured?” He used [Resonant Heart!] again. ’I deserve this. After all the pain, the fear… I deserve to feel good. Just for a moment.’

The thought felt so right, so… justifiable. She did deserve it. She was so tired, so sore, so… lonely.

His hand on her hip moved, sliding around to her stomach, his fingers splaying across her skin, generating a delicious, spreading warmth. He leaned down, his lips trailing from her ear, down the sensitive column of her neck.

Lilliana gasped, her head falling back, granting him greater access. ’It’s the Wyrm’s musk… the toxin… I’m not myself…’ Her mind clung to the excuse he had so cleverly provided, a shield to protect her pride, to allow her to surrender without shattering her self-image.

Alaric smiled against her skin. ’So receptive. The perfect storm of exhaustion, gratitude, fear, and a little alchemical persuasion.’

He pulled back slightly, looking down at her, his ruby eyes dark with lust. “You are so beautiful, Lilliana,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “So powerful. So… desirable.”

His hands moved to the front of her torn, scorched training robe. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to undo the remaining fastenings, peeling the rough fabric away.

Lilliana watched him, her emerald eyes wide, her breathing shallow. She should stop him. She should say no. But the word was a forgotten concept, lost in the intoxicating haze of his presence and the fire building within her.

He stripped away the robe, revealing the simple linen undergarments she wore beneath. They were practical, chaste, yet on her magnificent, mature form, they were incredibly alluring. Her full, high breasts strained against the thin fabric, her nipples already hard, dark peaks. Her slender waist dipped invitingly towards the lush curve of her hips.

“So perfect,” Alaric murmured, his gaze devouring her. He reached out, his fingers tracing the lace edge of her chemise, just above the swell of her breasts.

Lilliana shivered, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He leaned down and captured her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. It was no longer the tentative kiss of a student, but the claiming kiss of a conqueror. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her, dominating her, and Lilliana, after a moment of surprised hesitation, kissed him back with a ferocity that shocked them both.

Her centuries of suppressed passion, her hidden loneliness, her recent trauma, all ignited by his touch, by the aphrodisiac, by the sheer, overwhelming force of his will. She clung to him, her hands tangling in his blonde hair, her body arching against his, desperate for more.

He broke the kiss, leaving them both breathless. He looked down at her, a triumphant, predatory smile on his lips. He ripped away her linen chemise, the sound sharp in the quiet cave, exposing her magnificent breasts to the crimson glow of the chamber.

Lilliana gasped, but made no move to cover herself. She was beyond that now. She wanted his eyes on her, his hands on her, his mouth on her.

He obliged, his head descending, his mouth closing over one nipple. Lilliana cried out, her back arching off the furs, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The sensation was electric, a searing pleasure that shot straight to her core. He suckled deeply, teasing the sensitive peak with his tongue, then his teeth, driving her wild.

He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with equal attention, while his hands moved lower, stripping away the last of her undergarments, leaving her completely naked, utterly vulnerable, gloriously exposed on the ashen sand and furs.

Alaric shed his own clothes with swift, economical movements, revealing the magnificent, sculpted physique she had glimpsed during their spar. And then, his erection.

Lilliana’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen it before, briefly, but now, in the intimate, crimson glow of the cave, it seemed even more… colossal. A thick, powerful pillar of flesh, pulsing with life, radiating a primal, masculine power that was both terrifying and utterly, irresistibly compelling.

’By the Archons… it’s a weapon,’ she thought, her mind reeling, her body responding with a fresh wave of slick heat between her thighs. ’How can I possibly…?’

Alaric knelt between her parted legs, his presence overwhelming. He leaned down, kissing her deeply again, his hands caressing her breasts, her hips, her thighs, re-igniting the fires he had already stoked.

“Ready to be claimed, Professor?” he whispered against her lips, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

Lilliana could only nod, her mind lost in a haze of sensation, her body aching with a need she had never known.

He positioned himself, the blunt head of his massive cock pressing against her entrance. She was a virgin, her body untouched, her passage tight and untried. She tensed, a flicker of fear returning.

“Easy now, Lilliana,” Alaric murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “The first time… it might be… intense. But I will make it good for you. I promise.”

He pushed forward slowly, deliberately. Lilliana cried out, a sharp, tearing pain lancing through her as her maidenhead was breached. It was a pain that felt both physical and profoundly symbolic, a shattering of her old self. Tears sprang to her eyes.

Alaric paused, buried deep inside her, letting her adjust. He held her close, whispering soothing words, kissing her face, her neck, her shoulders. “Shhh, my brave Archmage. It’s done. The worst is over. Just feel me. Feel us.”

He held himself still, allowing the initial pain to subside, replaced by a strange, overwhelming fullness. He could feel her body trembling around his, her tight, virginal passage desperately trying to accommodate his immense size.

Then, he began to move. Slowly. Deliberately. Each thrust was a gentle stretching, a careful exploration. Lilliana moaned softly, her fingers digging into his back, the pain slowly, miraculously, beginning to morph into a strange, coiling pleasure.

“That’s it, Lilliana,” Alaric encouraged, his voice husky. “Let go. Feel the pleasure.”

He picked up the pace slightly, his thrusts becoming firmer, deeper. Lilliana’s moans grew louder, less inhibited, her body moving with his, a rhythm as old as time, yet entirely new to her.

He took her through a dizzying array of positions, his godly stamina a force of nature. He laid her on her back, his thrusts deep and powerful, her legs wrapped around his waist. He turned her onto her stomach, taking her from behind, his hands cupping her magnificent breasts, her cries of pleasure muffled by the furs. He sat her on his lap, facing him, guiding her movements as she rode his massive cock, her fiery red hair a curtain around their joined bodies.

Lilliana, the reserved Archmage, the respected Professor, shattered. She became a creature of pure sensation, her inhibitions burned away in the inferno of their passion. She cried out his name, she begged for more, she clawed at his back, her body arching and convulsing as he drove her to climax after climax. Twenty, thirty, she lost count. Each one was more intense, more shattering than the last.

He was a relentless, masterful lover. He used his hands, his mouth, his tongue, exploring every inch of her body, discovering every sensitive spot, every hidden desire. He made her come with just his fingers, with just his mouth, before filling her again with his massive cock.

He made her do things she had only read about in forbidden texts, things she had never dreamed of doing. He had her service him orally, her initial hesitation quickly melting away into a desperate eagerness to taste him, to please him, to feel his divine instrument in her mouth. He made her call him Master, Lord, God, her voice hoarse with passion and unwavering devotion.

He came inside her again and again, his seed flooding her womb, marking her as his, claiming her utterly. Each release felt like a sacrament, a branding of his ownership deep within her soul.

The night wore on, a timeless expanse of raw, untamed passion. The volcanic cave, with its crimson glow and primal heat, became their private world, a crucible where an Archmage’s pride was melted down and reforged into a slave’s devotion.

As the first hints of dawn began to lighten the smoke-filled sky outside the cave entrance, Alaric was still inside her, his movements slow now, almost languid, his body pressed against hers. Lilliana lay boneless beneath him, utterly spent, her body a canvas of his possession, marked with love bites and faint bruises, yet humming with a profound, deep-seated satisfaction she had never known.

She had lost her virginity. She had lost her composure. She had lost her carefully constructed identity as the untouchable Archmage.

And in its place, she had found… him.

“Alaric…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her head resting on his sweat-slick chest.

“Yes, my beautiful Professor?” he murmured, his voice rough with lingering passion.

“That was…” she trailed off, unable to find the words. Miraculous? Terrifying? Divine?

“Just the beginning, Lilliana,” he purred, his lips finding hers in a slow, possessive kiss. “Just the beginning of your… new education.”

Lilliana didn’t protest. She simply melted into the kiss, her body aching, her mind blissfully blank, her soul irrevocably bound to the magnificent, terrifying young man who had just claimed her, body and soul, in the fiery heart of the Crimson Flame Spirit Wyrm’s lair. The hunt was over. The conquest was complete. And a new, powerful Archmage had just been added to Alaric Steele’s ever-expanding, divine harem.