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"Study hour again ? But I don't want to study!"

"Didn't we study yesterday?"

"I wanna go back to the Manor! I forgot to feed Leonard and he needs his greens!"

The voices of three children, two boys and a girl, echoed through the entryway of the study hall of the Royal Carian family and their associates. Inside the rooms were all the depths of mankind's knowledge of the stars and beyond. At the sound of their voices, Preceptor Miriam resisted the urge to press her fingers against her temple. Queen Rennala's children had the misfortune of not only having the power of demigods, but worse, behaving like literal human children.

Needless to say, Preceptor Miriam was glad that she was not stationed closer to the Manor. 

Still, the woman in charge of the study hall did her duty. Once a week after the study hall closed, after dinner but before bed, the three royal children came to the study hall to work on their glintstone arts. Preceptor Miriam received them as she always did, with her hands held at her waist, tall and prim and dignified, the way a royal should behave.

"I'm hungry, I can't study on an empty stomach," said one of the boys. He was tall and skinny with the beginning of red stubble growing in his chin. His name was Rykard.

"You should have taken seconds when you had the chance!" laughed the other boy. He was a little shorter and younger, but he was very muscular, and his red hair stood out like little bits of tuff on a military ceremonial helmet.  His name was Rahdan.

"It's not my fault we only had salad for dinner, Mum knows I won't eat just salad, " said Rykard. 

"Seluvis, I've already done my homework, can I go home?" said the little girl. She was the smallest of them all and yet her voice had the pretentiousness of a true princess. Her name was Ranni. 

"Quiet your prattling, young lords. And my lady, that simply means you will work on new material, since you seem to have mastered today's lesson. " A stern voice from behind the three spoke. Miriam always smirked when the sheer sound of Preceptor Seluvis's voice clamped down on the children's bickering. Every single time his commanding tone, made all the more authoritative by the mask he wore, stopped their whining and made the children stand up straight.

Miriam was glad she wore a mask because every time Seluvis spoke it made her cheeks flush red; she bowed again as was the custom and used the time to get a hold of herself.

"My lords and lady, I welcome you to the Study Hall," Preceptor Miriam said, like she said every week. "This week, Queen Rennala wants you to continue your independent studies on the Glintstone sword sorceries, and so I have pulled a number of relevant volumes."

Miriam gestured to the door and it opened slowly, revealing a center table with books and quills, ready for learning.

"This is terrible," Ranni complained as she marched first into the room.

"Leonard… hold on buddy, I'll feed you soon," whispered Rahdan to himself.

"Forget your horse, I'm hungry," Rykard muttered.

And yet the children made their way to the long table and sat down.

Miriam and Seluvis followed after them, her hands folded at her back, his hands folded up front. Miriam did not know if she was imagining it but she felt his heat rising next to her: mystical and powerful, and yet unknown. She had never seen his face, much less his body, save a strip of skin from the gloves to his sleeve, and only seen because he had been careless. The mystery of what kind of man had such a voice belonged to taunted Miriam, and teased her in her lonely nights. 

Seluvis stopped, and Miriam stopped next to him. She could sense what had to be perceptive eyes scanning the room, making sure that his charges had started studying in earnest. When he was satisfied he nodded.

"Two hours of study tonight, my lords and lady. I will check on your progress soon. And do not lollygag, or dawdle, or dare I say try anything because -"

"Yes yes, we know Seluvis, you're always watching." said Ranni, already bored.

And then Rykard pantomimed snapping his fingers just as Miriam did so behind her back- two rows of shadow puppet archers, all alike, conjured into existence. They flanked the children, standing still but not with their weapons drawn. They were meant to be a deterrent, to keep the children on task. 

Miriam frowned. Perhaps she has gotten too predictable in her old age. She angrily dismissed the puppet sentries but knew they still persisted. They would report any unusual behavior to Miriam immediately. 

 "Well? Get on with your assignments," Seluvis said, waving a dismissive hand. Miriam was pretty sure that only a handful of people could speak to the Royal Carian family in such a way and get away with it. 

It made Miriam inexplicably weak in the knees to be in proximity to such a powerful individual.

Leaving the children at their studies, the two adults walked away, past book shelves and tables and study areas to a small office. Inside Miriam kept her official correspondence, books, a small fireplace, and, most importantly at that moment, some fine whiskey.

And as always, the moment the door closed, Seluvis grumbled and slaked his shoulders, and Miriam pulled out the drinks, and poured themselves a glass.

"Really, you would think with the amount of times we come here those meddlesome brats would stop their whinging and just get on with it," Seluvis said as he took the glass from Miriam. Her gloved fingers brushed his and it sent an electrifying jolt through her arm. She suddenly wanted him to touch her again and again, but there was always the little dance they did before such a meeting. The two Preceptors would not have it any other way. 

So Miriam nodded and spoke the usual small talk. "I concur. Just because they are demigods does not give them the right to forego established schedules and obligations." Miriam turned her head slightly away so she could lift her mask slightly and imbibe the alcohol. It burned down her throat, the way she liked it. She felt fortified and strengthened for preferring a man's stronger drink - but she had always been that way. Tough and independent, she had risen quickly through the ranks of academia to finally be rewarded service to the Carian family themselves… . as a glorified librarian. 

No wonder she kept the alcohol close by.

Seluvis must have had a sip or two while she did because he took off his wide brimmed hat and set it on a side table.

"You know," Miriam said, "you look disapprovingly pedestrian with your hat off."

Seluvis's head tilted just so, and she could imagine his raised, intrigued eyebrow. It made her smile. "Well then, if I would prove to be seen as a common man, daresay a heathen, then I shall wear my chapeau and cast all doubt aside." He placed his own wide brimmed hat back on his head, taking a moment to adjust it. 

Miriam nodded and turned her head to down the entire glass of whiskey at once. It was the way she preferred most things - direct, and to the point.

But Seluvis looked at her and the glass in his hand, swirling the amber draught slowly. "Miriam," he asked thoughtfully. "Did you ever get the sense that you were made for something greater?"

"All the time," she answered, while pouring herself another glass. "As a little girl I did not dream of spending my time supervising little brats and making sure they did their homework and not graffiti tables and chairs. I have higher aspirations than that."

Seluvis paused briefly before chuckling. "Of course you do. A woman of your caliber is demeaned everyday that you are kept here, in a book-lined cage."

"I will have you know I take great pride in serving the Carian royal family in any capacity they require," Miriam said bristling at the remark. 

Seluvis bowed magnanimously. “My lady, I never for once doubted your loyalty to our glorious house. I simply say that you deserve much better than this assignment.”

Miriam folded her arms but also smirked; Seluvis always knew exactly what to say. “Then propose we switch assignments. I shall watch over the young ones’ studies, and you can stay here and be a hermit.”

Seluvis strode over and took Miriam by the hand. He bowed his head slightly, the wide brim nearly hiding his mask completely. “Madam, I would never subject you to such torment. Indeed, the supervision of three near-teenagers is a hell that I should endure alone.”

Miriam gasped softly. She knew he was simply being proper, but such an intimate act, combined with the warm whiskey flowing through her, took her off guard. She raised her hand up to the cheek of her mask, as if that would stop her own face from turning red.

Miriam, sensing her own vulnerable state, quickly forced a chuckle and quipped: "Yes Seluvis: it is just you, the multiple governesses, the fighting instructors, the nurses, the maids, the butlers, and of course our Queen and her Consort that are trying to tame three demigod royal children. Oh what a solitary burden you carry on your shoulders."

"All these books and you have never heard of the phrase 'it takes a village to raise a child'? Tch , I daresay you have lost your touch with the modern world, Miriam."

Seluvis never let go of Miriam's hand. In fact he drew her in closer to him, bending her arm, pulling her near. The rustling of their robes together filled Miriam's ears, as she was suddenly confronted with Seluvis' warmth. She was so close to pressing against his stomach, rubbing against his clothes, his skin so close… 

She gulped. And while Miriam was just as tall as Seluvis with her heeled shoes on, it was the other man's presence that dwarfed her, tall and intoxicating. Seluvis' grip was not overly strong or weak, but it was assertive and confident, and that was enough for Miriam to doubt her own confidence, at least briefly. 

Her free hand hung awkwardly at her side while she looked at Seluvis' eyes, and he at hers. Miriam gulped, her throat suddenly dry.

"I need another drink," she said.

However Seluvis shook his head. "I think you need to sit down."

"I'll be fine, I just -" 

"I think… . you need to sit down."

Miriam turned towards the bottle but Seluvis pulled just a little bit, like an owner of a dog tugging the leash to pull their pet back. Just a hint, an indication of Seluvis' desires, nothing forceful or overbearing. 

But Miriam obeyed all the same. She went to sit in her office chair behind her desk but again Seluvis shook his head.

"Not there, here." He dragged a spare chair across the floor, turning it so it faced the fire.

Miriam stopped a moment, skeptical and yet intrigued. She walked slowly over to the presented chair. "What are you thinking, Seluvis?"

"Just a bit of a thought exercise," he murmured, a dark enticing warble undermining his voice. “Something to bide our time while the young ones study.” 

Miriam tilted her head but did as he requested and sat down. The fire burned merrily in front of her, to the point she was feeling a little warm.

She turned around and held out a hand. "Will you bring me my drink? I find I am more open to intellectual gymnastics if I have just a little more-"

"Keep still, facing forward, " Seluvis commanded.

And while Miriam had no reason to do what Seluvis said, and would have raised questions as to the purpose of the exercise, she wanted to do what he said. She wanted commanding speech to come from his mask, to be spoken directly to her - and she wanted to obey.

So she faced the fire and put her hands on her lap. A moment passed when she heard the sound of another chair being dragged behind her, and Seluvis sitting down.

"Consider this hypothetical, if you will," he said, from behind her right shoulder.

"Alright. I will entertain your musings."

"You are a puppet. One of mine, if you wish."

Miriam felt her arms held by Seluvis's hands and drawn behind her. She exhaled softly as he slowly pulled her arms to the sides of the chair.

"I do."

"Excellent. Now - as a puppet, you have no autonomy of your own. You cannot move or speak, though you are still considered alive."

"Of course. We all know that pliability and compliance is the natural state of the puppet." 

Miriam blushed as she kept her arms at her side; she was pretending to be helpless and still. But then she felt a thin strip of fabric brush under her chest and around her back. Immediately she turned around, trying to raise her arms and voice.

" What do you think you are doing , Seluvis?" 

"I am making sure you are in the right mindset…now turn around , " he warned, and his voice wound and twisted around Miriam, making her blood rush. She exhaled and turned back around. A simple twisted silk sash that she recognized from the Preceptor uniform tied around her lower arms, below her breasts, and kept her seated. It wasn’t too tight, but it was restraining. 

"If the royal family finds out about your depraved thought experiments, Seluvis -”

“Then we will explain our situation like the adults we are. That we were simply participating in academic discourse.” His hand brushed her shoulders and she felt him lean in behind her, whispering in her ear. “Unless… you would like to play the part of the victim? Fallen prey to my superior intellect, and my alluring words and touch…”

Miriam pulled her head away from him, grousing. “I would never be found to be in such a compromised state!”

And yet her indignation was but a facade, as he placed his gloved hand over her heart and felt her fluttering heart beat. Miriam’s breath caught in her chest as Seluvis murmured languidly.  

“I will ensure that your honor and dignity will be maintained, and you will remain the pinnacle of honor and decorum,” Seluvis said, as he moved his chair towards Miriam. She could feel his chest against her hat and her robes.

“See that you do,” Miriam said darkly, turning slightly towards him, but one of his hands slipped under her chin and pressed against her jawbone, turning her face ever so slightly to face forward. 

“Ah, ah, ah …. Puppets do not move on their own, remember that my dear Preceptor.” His sing-song voice riled Miriam but she kept still. 

Miriam frowned and took a few calming breaths. “Alright, Seluvis. Get on with your thought experiment before we are found out.”

“In due time, in due time.” He removed his arms from her touch, leaving Miriam sitting, staring at the fire. She pursed her lips and sat completely still. Miriam’s mind ran in circles, as she thought about all the things she could have been doing - would have preferred to be doing - instead of appealing to Seluvis’ weird little ideas.

Suddenly, in the midst of a muddy annoyance concerning how she let herself be tied to a chair … Seluvis reached from behind Miriam and placed his hands over her breasts, one hand over each.

“Seluvis, unhand me you fiend -”

“Puppets do not talk back-” he warned, in the same voice he used with the royal princess and prince; and suddenly one of Miriam’s fantasies became very real. It made Miriam’s core heat up and writhe; she was feeling a strange arousal that she had not felt for many years.

Miriam fell silent, suddenly curious as to what he would do next.

Seluvis hummed contentedly. As he did his hands slowly kneaded Miriam’s breasts, never painfully, always with careful consideration. “Consider this, then. A puppet, who is still alive physically. Do they still feel pleasure? I would posit that they do.”

"But we know that the glintstone dulls the puppet's senses, why would they -"

Miriam's breath caught in her throat as Seluvis pinched Miriam's nipples and rolled them just enough so that she felt small darting surges of sensation go from his touch down through her stomach and between her legs. Each flick and roll sent a new shock, and briefly Miriam was stunned to silence over how it made her squirm.

Seluvis exhaled slowly over her shoulder, as he continued his argument. "The puppets may have limited sensations, but they can be aroused , if one knows the proper techniques."

He rubbed her nipples, pulling them out just slightly before twisting in the other direction. With each sensation Miriam could feel the sensations trigger and branch out from her vagina, clawing into the rest of her body. And Seluvis persisted in the slow methodical way that he applied to all his academic works, but instead of the effect dropping off as Miriam expected, the intensity grew, bit by bit. She felt her body involuntarily spasming, as if she indeed was his puppet.

"You've proven your point, so untie me," Miriam said. But her breath was just a bit too breathy, and reeked of desperation. When Seluvis spoke she could hear his knowing, gleeful smirk.

"Of course, my lady, if you wish," he said, but instead of doing so he reached for her hands at her sides. Their gloved hands met, and while Miriam tried to pull away, he held tighter, and to her dismay she started to feel what must have been aftershocks to the arousal. Her hands were pulling away not for autonomy, but to scratch her deep seated itch made more and more maddening by Seluvis.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you?" Seluvis whispered. 

"Why would you say such a thing?" Miriam said between clenched teeth. 

"Because there are some biological urges that cannot be ignored…  ones that bypass the magic that makes puppets so obedient ."

He squeezed her hands once more for emphasis, and let go.  Miriam had a few seconds where her hands could move freely - in truth she did want to touch herself, even though she had never felt the urge to do so in her life. Her hands shook, as she dug her fingertips into the wood of the chair.

"Okay, you have proven your point ," Miriam conceded.

"Not at all, my good friend. I was simply setting up my argument. Surely you agree that we have to declare our givens before any real theoretical progress can be made… ?"

"Yes yes, sure, fine. If puppets feel pleasure, then … ?"

"Then our glintstone sorceries are not as complete as we think. There is a gap in making a form, organic or inorganic, completely obedient to one's will. What is this gap and how do we close it to ensure our complete dominance? That.. is the real question. "

Suddenly Seluvis bent down and reached for the hem of Miriam's skirt, and pulled it up over her knee. Miriam's boot and pale leg were exposed to the room. The lady Preceptor gasped, as if she had been disrobed in front of the entire Academy.

“Seluvis, I swear, if you get any closer I’ll -”

“You’ll do what…. Miriam ?” His hand pressed against her knee, and she felt it in a new way as he dragged the leather across her skin and up her thigh. A heated and present touch, making her skin rise to greet it, with fear and anticipation.

She couldn’t complete her thought. The words jumbled in her mind and fell apart on her lips. All she could do was be completely enthralled by the sensation of Seluvis’ hand traveling up her leg.

“You see, I believe there is a way to bridge the gap of puppet obedience, and that is through pleasure.” He lifted his hands briefly so that only his fingertips danced on Miriam’s leg. Again she squirmed, moving along with his touch, as if on metaphorical strings. “Some scholars advocate pain and pleasure equally, as they both ensure obedience. But pain causes feelings of dislike, of fear, of hate - and one can only imagine the damage that is done to a puppet’s brain if they cannot act on those negative feelings. In that case, all it would take is a single moment of freedom - a break in the glintstone magic - and that owner would be dead.”

Seluvis tsked to himself as he pulled up Miriam’s skirt even more, revealing her white undergarments. Miriam looked down at the sigh of Seluvis’ hand on her thigh, and pressed against the chair, lifting her hips up slightly and shaking her head.

“This is enough, Seluvis,” she said somewhat in a panic. 

He lifted his hand off her leg. “Do you want me to stop? Because I will stop, if you desire.”

Seluvis brought his face so close to Miriam that she could feel his breath passing from his mask into hers - if she closed her eyes, she could almost smell his cologne - sweet floral tones, with a sandalwood scent underneath. Miriam inhaled and swallowed. She had not been this close to a man in a long time. A combination of the smells and alcohol made it hard for Miriam to think, much less speak. Miriam was surprised how completely enthralled she was with her fellow Preceptor.

“Well? Do you want me to stop?”

“I…”

“Say it,” Seluvis whispered, teasing her. “Say it and I’ll stop.”

“I … no. No, don’t stop.”

Seluvis’ chuckled as he placed his hand back on Miriam’s leg. This time, he was much quicker, and skated his hand up her leg and past her skirt.

“You see, you have proven my point. Even if there is a gap of submission - shall we coin the phrase? - in a puppet’s behavior, if given pleasure over pain, they are more likely to continue to obey even if the glintstone sorcery weakens. That is why it is important that puppets continue to feel when put in a submissive state -”

His fingers reached the topmost of her inner thigh; she could feel his fingers writhing, the movement vibrating the air around her sensitive, wet lips. She leaned forward and shifted her hips towards him - but again he chuckled, and withdrew his hand, but kept it under the warm skirt, next to her skin.

“So that, in the end…” Miriam said, finishing the thought but barely, “they want to obey their owner’s every command.”

Seluvis’ hand that crept so close to her aching labia inched forward, but then he reached around her, wrapping his other hand around her neck. Those fingers too sought precious skin, as they slipped in between her head covering and mask, grasping at her neck.

Miriam gasped, louder than before, and pulled her arms against the sash, but she did not say any words. Instead she bit her lip and wished he would just rip off their clothes and masks, for the uniform of their positions suddenly felt very heavy, and hot, and bothersome.

“You feel my dilemma then,” Seluvis sighed, as he caressed Miriam’s innermost folds with the care and delicateness of a flower. Miriam whimpered, and wiggled in her seat. Oh how she wanted more from him, how terribly slow he was going!

“We are dreadfully limited in our roles, Miriam. We could be so much more. We could have freedom to pursue any and all lines of our work… and pleasures of the flesh…” His single finger stroked her clit thoughtfully, and every time Miriam wanted to wail and thrash with no regards to the world - especially those three demigod children studying in the same building.

“Seluvis -” Miriam rasped.

He stopped his thought and his finger below. “Yes?”

“...Seluvis, please just …”

“Oh… yes. I forgot. My apologies.” Without any warning he plunged his fingers deep into her cunt, at the same time squeezing around her neck.

Miriam surged forward, a wave of energy and surprise and electrifying lust surging through her body. Were it not for the fact she was sitting down and secured to the chair, she may as well have fallen over. It was incredibly complete how Miriam’s mind was blanked out by Seluvis’ touch. She almost forgot who she was. The only thing in that moment was how tense and wound up every molecule of her psyche was - and all at the touch of a single man.

He kept finger-fucking her, back and forth rapidly, making up for the agonizing slowness which he tortured her earlier. Miriam’s limbs stiffened, and all she could do was whimper in a higher and higher pitch, quicker and quicker, begging to be released from his service.

With a guttural grunt, Seluvis plunged his fingers deep into Miriam’s vagina, as far as they could go, holding them in place. Miriam kept her position, her legs raised and spread so that her feet were on tiptoes, her toes curled in her shoes.

Miriam’s groans rose in intensity as finally the build up was too much and she came all over Seluvis’ fingers and her skirt. If there had been regular students in the study hall at that moment, surely they would have heard her at her weakest. The relief came with it, soothing warmth crashing through her body, as well as heated cheeks. She was glad Seluvis couldn’t see her blush.

“Well, well, well , quite the screamer you are,” Seluvis mused, as he pulled out a night sky blue handkerchief and wiped his moist leather gloves off.

“I did not scream, Seluvis.”

“If you say so,” Seluvis said, but she could hear his mirth in his voice for some time after. He promptly untied the sash and Miriam immediately stood up, pulled her skirt down, and adjusted her robes so that they fell properly around her once more. By the time she stood again, with her hands at her waist, she felt, for the most part, put together.

Seluvis reached for his drink, took a sip, and then looked at Miriam. “Shall we go check on the children?”

“I suppose we should,” Miriam said with a heavy sigh. She walked to the door and opened it to the library common study area. As the two walked back towards the demigod children, Miriam smiled. Because with each step, the after effects of Seluvis’ touch spasmed from between her legs, like the faint thunder of a summer storm.

THE END