Chapter 1 - The Summoning

I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have a lot of fun with Louise, because I read the novels and therefore have a very different view of her than the anime watchers. She's a pleasure to write, super cute, and a big part of this work was giving her so many smiles she can barely take it.

Commissioned by Smuthunter
He plans to have me do more than one installment. So, look forward to more in the future.
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The courtyard is filled with students in the midday sun, a blonde girl with long victorian ringlets along each side of her head is reaching down and grabbing a frog from the ground, the students around her cheering and egging her on. “You must be of the water affinity.” Their teacher says while a pretty boy in the back dances and rains praises from among the group of students behind her.

It’s small but she’s happy, a cheerful smile parting her lips as she looks down at the green creature in her hands with her pretty blues, “Yes.”

Things are all coming together for her, she expected this in a way. She’s never been overly strong, but her alchemy is second to none here at the Tristain Academy of Magic. A low tier water elemental summoning, recognizing her control and finesse instead of raw might is perfect for her. She finds herself hugging the creature to her chest, forgetting that it should be gross and instead showing it her love.

In contrast to the praise raining down on the girl, our hero’s smile for her is stiff and forced. “Just you wait, my dragon’s gonna blow that away.” She mumbles to herself, reminding herself of the declaration she made earlier, her confidence overflowing when she told the Germanian bitc-barbarian just what to expect of her today.

The redhead isn’t expecting that of her, of course, no one expects anything of the short pinkette with complimenting taffy eyes. Nothing but failure, but she won’t accept their expectations. She’ll show them her power and potential and summon a tremendous dragon the likes of which only Tabitha the class prodigy has managed!

At least, that’s what she told herself, what she preached to her mirror this morning when she was brushing her flowing hair into compliance. She’s not nearly as confident as the girl in the mirror.

She’d be happy with a frog.

“And next, the final person is… Louise! Louise Françoise Le Blanc De La Vallière!”

“Yes!” Louise opens her mouth to call back in response, and feels her tongue go dry after the word is spoken. Her throat argues with her, her hands ball at the sides of her whipped cream-like thighs, and she has to resist raising them to try and snatch the word back.

Her palm tightens around the stick in her hand, her wand. The instrument that will be used to sink or swim her entire life, right here and right now. Her knuckles whiten. Her blood rushes through her, and her cheeks sting with little patches of pink that she can’t hide behind a facade of confidence no matter how she tries.

Her feet feel unbelievably bare, stepping forward through the grass towards the ritual circle drawn in the dirt-covered by only the luxurious and comfortable open-top dress shoes the academy uniform comes with. She can see the bottom of her stocking, and that’s too little for what she needs. She wants armor, grieves, anything strong and sturdy to protect her from the incessant words.

“I wonder if she can manage?”
“I’m curious on seeing what she’ll summon.”
“She’ll probably just screw up again.”

The words cut deep, her skin tight white button-up shirt and black miniskirt nowhere near thick enough to protect her. The mantle down her back offers little warmth among the harshness of their words, and she idly wonders if the pentagon brooch holding it together around her neck is something she deserves to wear.

She’ll know in a second.

“Haaa-” her fingers raise, her spit welling up in her mouth and forcing her to swallow a little too loudly for her comfort. They can see her discomfort she’s sure of it, see her lack of confidence. Kirche, the slutbomb Germanian she’s here to prove things to is the only one who’s not backing away. She looks hopeful, staring at the back of Louise’s head. Eager to make fun of her she has no doubt, she’ll show her. Louise the Zero is not here, she’ll prove that name has never been anymore than a cruel misnomer.

A swish of the wand in her grasp starts the ritual, as her feet touch down on the ritual circle drawn through the grass and inscribed below. “My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc De La Vallière.” She starts, channeling everything she has into her wand through her being.

The circle below her glows a bright white, signaling the start, that the world has heeded her call and understands what she is about to do. The question that won’t leave her head is, is it mocking her too, or does it really understand what she needs? She’s unsure she can handle more mocking right now. Too much relies on this.

She silently prays for a dragon, for a manticore, deep in her heart she’d be okay with a cat. Just a cat, a kitten even. Four paws and a face. She closes both eyes, concentrating with all her heart.

“Pentagon of the five elemental powers, heed my summoning…” Her voice tries to shout, proclaim to all, but her throat won’t let her. Too dry, too scratchy, it cracks uncontrolled and she opens one eye in a wince at the way her tone drags lifelessly. Her free hand is extended theatrically, she’s not sure whether to be embarrassed or proud of her own body’s confidence in her.

She raises her wand into the air above her head. The sunlight above glinting off the tip, filling her with the confidence she needs to see this through despite every claim to failure that’s ever been made in her name. To make the final movement that will decide her fate, and call forth the wings of destiny atop her fateful words. “And bring forth, my familiar!”

Her hand cuts through the air, the wand a dagger in the wind holding a payload of her hopes and dreams on a rapid descent towards the ground, the final gambit.

Batoooooom

The wind is potent, sending her hair flying in all directions before the array of colors sprinkled throughout the gust even registers in her brain. Bright lights fly everywhere, an explosion rocking her smaller frame in place.. Her arm covers her face to protect her from debris, and her outstretched wand trembles in her grasp. Her vision blurs with tears at the sound raging in her ears, and the familiar wind of one of her explosions biting into her like it does no other, making her heart waver and her soul flounder.

She watches the ground erupt, and the smoke sputters into life. Her eyes catch a purple shockwave backed only by an uproar of fire. So close to it all she can barely hear, but she swears there’s a tremendous roar along with it, one that justifies the shake of her feet and the lack of sturdiness in her stance.

A Vallière does not fall she tells herself, a Vallière does not retreat, she repeats in her head again and again as the wind dies down and bright lights before her start to fade out of obscurity, and into a tangible shape she can just barely make out while squinting her hardest.

Her heart races, the beat pounding between her ears like nothing else ever has before. She takes in the massive silhouette before her with awe, hoping, praying to anything that will listen that this is not a mass of ground she blew up somehow or one of the other students playing a trick on her with some massive beast. She wouldn’t forgive them as long as she lived.

“He-hello?” She forces out, her dry tongue forcibly forming words under the rule of steel and the powerful blood that courses through her noble veins. “Please be real.” She pleads, stepping forward into the dust, uncaring of the way it will surely stain her clothes. There’s something there, she’s sure of it, something beyond the veil of chance and just out of reach.

Her first step takes her into the smoke, and she holds her breath for another. Refusing to back down, step back, or even wait for clarity. A Vallière waits for no man, summoned creature, dust cloud, or otherwise.

She bumps into it before she can really see it, the intimidating size of the rock-solid creature enough to bowl her over onto her bum. She doesn’t get back up right away, too enamored with just how massive it must be. Her fingers curl, her eyes focus, and like magic, the dust finally clears right before them. A deep, powerful laugh shocks her core a little, making her waver just a little more, beg for answers.

Standing a little over a horse’s height, thick as a small carriage, with a predator’s red eyes and beautiful ruby scales; stands a creature unlike anything she’d ever expected. On four frighteningly sharp paws that dig into the ground impatiently, a red dragon rests, long twin horns are formed atop its skull rising high into the air like the tips of a crown.

Its maw is sharp and wide, its angular face focuses on her just as much as she focuses on it. She feels judged, uncertain, her free hand tangles itself in her lovely locks while her wand hand raises up, her blood pumps powerfully. She jumps onto her feet in a move her mother taught her, needless of hands but heavy on the theatrical side. It’s a showboat if she’s ever done one, and showboat she will. It seems to admire it, admire her antics and technique in a way no one else ever has. That fills her with confidence, confidence she desperately begged for from the world. Vindication is a new feeling for her, one she savors.

She drowned out their cries, their indignant wails and the mocking of the naive and terminally blind. Too important was the magnificent beast before her, the creature of legend. She tunes them out no longer, as her palm leaves her hair and graces the cheekbones of the mythical legend in front of her. It may be a dragon but it's different from the others, more regal, more satisfying to stare at. It looks nothing like Tabitha’s wind dragon or the beings shown to her in storybooks.

Yet a dragon it is, she’s sure of it. Its form is too true, its wingspan too wide and intimidating, blocking out the sun above her. Its maw is massive, easily able to tear her head from her shoulders in a single bite, and yet it does nothing. She doesn’t need to tune them out, they’re too enamored, too silent. Kirche is slack-jawed she’s sure of it, and Tabitha is likely looking on impressed. Tabitha, impressed with her. She’s already formulating the letter she’ll be sending home to her mother, and the replies to the mockery her mother will send back claiming she is making up tales. She can feel herself practically glowing at the very thought. She’s blown every expectation of her away with this, destroyed the frame they’ve forced her into and forged a new one far more opulent than any other the family has seen before.

“You’re real.” She murmurs, her fingers gracing the slippery smooth scale under her hand. The beast’s gaze turning to her soft wrist, and then to the gentle features of her face. Its scales shine in the light from the sun, Its wings finally unfurl, sending another shockwave around her and almost pushing her to her knees. Those behind her are not so lucky, did not notice the movement in time to prepare. They’re sent to the dirt, while she hangs on to his face for dear life. Her fingers curl against him, asserting her strength and denying its attempts to make her back down.

Caught in the shade, Louise takes a final step forward instead of falling, finally leaving the space with everyone else and entering its domain. An intimate gaze passes between them, its power bearing down on her as exhilaration turns her blood to sugar and her heartbeat to thunder. It takes her in, digging deep inside her being and warming her merely for being caught in those two beautiful eyes. Joy bubbles inside her, shock and awe and surprise morph into a ball of emotion she’s actually incapable of handling right now. The titan before her stands, a sturdy statue to realizations she never begun to imagine, and send her thoughts on a treacherous course that leaves no doubts. “Could I just be too powerful?” She mumbles to herself, “is that a thing?”

Her murmurs silence at the feel of its breath on her chest, hot and demanding of her mental faculties with its gentle scorch. Her body starts to shake, her legs wavering, her mouth opens wide and her wand barely manages to stay in the grasp of her free hand no matter how tightly she clenches her wrist.

She has to do it now before whatever peaceful magic binding this beast to be friendly to her wears off. She can already see its massive tail waving behind it, ominous and impending. If she doesn’t hurry, that tail might be the death of her and everyone here. It might spear her to the ground below it and turn every blissful sensation turning her senses to mush into screams of endless agony. “Pentagon of the five elemental powers.” She begins, raising her hand and tapping the wand atop its nose as gently as she can. “Grant your blessings upon this creature.”

Her saliva catches in her throat, and she’s forced to swallow, staring into its inquisitive eyes and struggling to stay afoot with all the might her mother blessed her with, every last drop of her blood. “And bind it as my familiar.”

That’s it, those are the final words. Her lips perk, her face moving forward before she’s even fully registered what she’s doing. Practical session after practical session testing this ritual out with a broom keeps her steady as her lips press against the heated exterior of the mythical guardian beast she’s summoned from somewhere beyond her comprehension. Its scales are a nice on her pretty pinks, almost soothing somehow.

“Holy shit.” She’s not sure who said it, what student uttered such a crass commoner’s phrase, but it was familiar to her, familiar and womanly. She has no time to focus on it, to think of anything. The moment her lips connect with the beast she can hear its heart, feel a connection being forged. Blue is the color of cord connecting their souls, a shimmering light that overtakes her easily sparks from the both of them, and her mind numbs to a crawl somehow slower than before.

A heat worms through her, starting at her lips and spreading to her head, her shoulders then her chest. By the time it hits her stomach she’s fully succumbed to its spell, a shifting fire inside her that hits her nerves with a blissful agony she’d not be sure how to deal with on a normal day.

Today she squirms, falling to her knees and gripping her belly, eyes wide and mouth agape. Perhaps agony was the wrong word, her mind tries to defend the feeling. It’s a good feeling, it can’t be anything but positive, it’s too overwhelming, too intimate. Connects them too well and shouts of her success too loudly to be anything but the best moment of her life. Down on the ground her eyes look out and catch the bottom of the beast, sharp scales leading all the way back to a monstrously thick penis, undoubtedly for mating as much as pressuring its might upon all who dare glance. It’s spaded, intimidating, it terrifies her to her core in a strange way that brings her an odd warmth. Her familiar is a boy, she’ll have to remember that. Perhaps keep it away from other dragons until she’s sure what its genus is.

A smile builds its way onto her lips, much purer than the blonde before her, Montmorency, or even the dead grin of a foretold triumph that etched itself on Tabitha’s gentle face. For them, this was a minor event, no matter how ritualistically meaningful. For her...

For her, nothing has been more meaningful in her entire life. For her, it’s a reason to stand, to dance and jump. She pushes back to her feet numb as she is, breaks into a giddy giggle reminiscent of a madwoman’s. Her eyes alight with a joy that no other has matched, and no other ever will. She’s as sure of it as she is that her magic is coursing through the wondrous marvel her hand comes to rest upon once again. Her mark branded itself atop its skull, a brilliantly bright binding that she can feel at her core, their connection given life and form.

Her feet tingle, her hair tingles, her whole body is awhirl with tingles and emotions well beyond her. She doesn’t hesitate, she can’t. “Come.” She begs, turning towards the crowd of knocked over students, the awestruck teacher and the bitter rival giving her a proud clap as if she has any right to even pretend to be proud.

She saves her scorn, locks it away inside. She doesn’t need it anymore, she’s on top of the world and nothing can change that. Her feet take her through the courtyard, the dragon behind her following her well into the halls that pass in a blur. Congratulations mix with doubtful cries as she passes everyone without a glance. They don’t matter, they never did.

Louise passes many of her previous tormentors in the halls, ignoring putrid excuses for nobility that dared to lash out at their better just because of perceived weakness. They had her so worked up she thought she was useless, had to fight to wake up in the morning and try again knowing failure was predetermined and the results of her efforts were going to fall short day after day, night after night.

They were wrong. She has proof. It’s stomping behind her, making a mess of the castle flooring and carpet. Inside she’s sure she’ll have to pay for the damages her march is causing, but she’s equally sure she doesn’t care in the slightest. Her mind’s whirring with more important things. She needs to research control, figure out how to tone down her spell power not raise it. That has to be the answer, she’s been gifted a better key to her own issues than even a master locksmith could claim to have forged. An answer, and with a new avenue to charge down she’ll take her mother’s path and summon a blade of progress to shatter the barriers before her and topple the opposition.

The opposition, in this case, is her own inability to cast basic cantrips, but she refuses to let reality burden her when for once in her life the path forward is clear and she has answers. Her eyes gaze over her shoulder, watching the dragon bobbing through the halls behind her, sending students bowling away and into the walls and floor like pins in a commoner game. She can’t help but wonder if maybe she should have had them fly to her room, skipped this childish rubbing of their mockery back in their faces like it’s dirt.

The idea of flaunting her newfound success to the entire school in a lengthy march and parade is as cathartic as it was intoxicating for her racing heart and fluttering stomach, but she’s still an intelligent noble who can admit when she made a mistake.

Whoops. Either way, she’s nearing her room, she’ll just have to be smarter next time. There’s a stable she’s supposed to keep him in, which is a huge downer but not one for today. That’s tomorrow’s problem. After whatever scoldings she ignores with a smile because she is too giddy to take a single thing seriously right now. “To my room!” She commands, an unsightly giggle erupting from deep inside her. Who needs appearances? She has a dragon! Not even like a normal dragon either, some kind of mutation dragon or dragon of old or maybe even an extinct dragon or dragon sent to her from another reality. Her sister would be so proud!

In fact, it’d be just like Cattleya to somehow be a dragon in another reality and come to serve her little sister faithfully. A look over her shoulder reminds her it’d also be completely absurd, break the laws of the universe as she knows them, and she’s talking crazy in elation. Speaking of Cat, she’ll have to send her a letter with her mother. The thought of getting her mother’s doubt-filled rant at the same time as Cat’s praise warms her heart. She can’t wait.

She also wonders if she should write a letter at all. What if she just took a few days off and arrived home on dragonback? Surely it’s sturdy enough to carry her. It’s a thought for later. She’ll write the letters but not send them until she’s sure.

It’s during these flurry of thoughts surging through her at the breakneck pace of a duel that Louse arrives at her lodgings. She doesn’t hesitate to push open the large door, giving not a thought to the old wood impacting the wall as it swings, in too good a mood to care about simple things like the state of her room or the care of materials. She’s well past the material plane, so past in fact, that it takes her a few moments to grasp there’s any problem at all with this. That her door, as titanic as it might be for a girl of her small stature and petite features, is still a door made for humans.

Not wide, horse-like dragons. “Auh…” She trails, looking back at the dragon staring oddly at the doorway, then her, then back at the doorway. It seems to contemplate just headbutting through, she seemed to have no issues pushing it open with all her might after all. “No, no, please don’t!” She scrambles back. Hands waving comically and without dignity. “The carpet is one thing but these walls are old construction, they’re costly and mother would be furious.”

She pleads with her dragon as she gets back to the door, giving him an awkward and mournful smile, laced with grim realization. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it, but you might be too big for my door. Ehehe, ehh...”

Her eyes take in the size of the stubborn stone walling, and her mind begins calculating. Eyeing angles, making graphs. “Yep, too big.” She shrugs, slowly, with a mournful sigh. Her good mood shaint be ruined, but it seems like maybe she’ll have to -

- Her thoughts are interrupted by a shining light that sparks into her vision without warning. Her dragon engulfed from horn to terrifying claws in a visceral aura that has her eyeing it with desire and begging for approval.

For a second, and only a second, before her heritage kicks in and she takes a step back to weather the light show occurring in the middle of the hallway at the very front of her ornate door. It’s a bit too bright, leaving imprints in her eyes for a moment even as she covers them with her outstretched arm, the mantle falling off the side of it to help provide a dark covering.

Until it’s gone. The moment it is, she throws her arm to the side, freeing up her vision and tossing her mantle’s protection to the side, to take in the sight of her dragon once again. Or, she would, if her dragon was there any longer. There’s nothing there, an empty hallway. “Uhhh-”

The door closes loudly, drawing her eyes to it. Something got in her room during that light show, and her curiously roving orbs reveals to her that it is incredibly cute. At least that’s what her first impression tells her, that impression taking in beautiful red eyes with an adoration she can’t quite shake. It has perfect youthful skin that has her a little jealous even with a noble’s complexion and care.

Her mouth falls agape, her vision flickering up and down her room’s invader. Standing in front of her is a boy a little younger than her, and yet still a little taller. It’s an embarrassing reality, and her cheeks take on a hot tint that scorches her blood and lightens her head.

Though nothing makes her lighter headed than a simple reality bobbing in front of her and staring her down like an angry menace that’s found a pet to torment. “Wh-whaa-why are you naked!” Right there, reacting to her every movement, the shift of her lips to shout and the pointing of her outstretched, outraged hands, is a beast of a penis, the largest she’s ever seen. On a person, her mind quickly adds, as the outrageous thing she saw gracing her Familiar earlier was significantly larger.

Her wand taps the tip of the thick monster before her and she quickly calculates how long it’s going to take to get a new wand after she burns this one. It’s huge, reacting to her gaze and somehow getting even larger. She idly worries for any lady that he might have in mind, for that’s not a knife it’s a whole sword. “Not even sure the Germanian could take that...” She mumbles.

So focused is she on the noble shaft before her that she fails to ask important questions, like who he is, why he’s in her room, or where her dragon went. She’s too busy answering those questions herself, she’s seen this thing before. Technically smaller than before, and with might to it that made the world fear it, she’s still seen it and it’s still been burned into her mind.

There’s no doubt to her that smaller or not, this is her dragon’s penis, and if it’s her dragon’s penis…

“Well?” She asks again, squirming away from him animatedly. “Why are you naked?” It feels so hot her mind conjures the image of smoke coming from her cheeks, a truly childish display overcomes her but she can’t help it. It’s kinda scary, it just is.

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?” The boy stretches, his arms moving above his head simultaneous to her eyes finally looking away from the carriage crash happening right in front of her, and finally taking in the vibrancy of his hair. It’s so bright and alive it almost looks like in the right lighting it could be an orange, and its softness is visible. She bets if she ran her fingers through it they’d get lost, and she might lose the use of her hand simply because she couldn’t bear to take it away ever again.

It’s a dumb thought, one she discards without a second parse, but she’s smart enough to be cautious nonetheless. Not everything is as it seems here. “Erm, well, yes?” She squeaks a little, his answer is so confident it has her questioning herself. Is there a reason he shouldn’t be naked? He showed up as a dragon, he probably doesn’t even have clothes, and what does a dragon know about nudity taboos and noble rules?

What kind of dragon transforms? Does she even care? It’s a dragon, in her room! Her dragon! Forget over the moon, she has the moon now, it’s hers. It’s in her room, pumping love for life through her veins like a healer’s medicine. Unlike any medicine anyone has ever had before, and unlike any they ever will. She’s special, they just proved it.

They’re proving it right now, this dragon is old enough it’s got a human form. It’s an extinct species, she actually did pull a dragon through time and space, she tore asunder the world and used enough power in the simple summoning ritual to shatter reality and demand what she was owed. Reality cowed to her might; reality sent her a relic in living form because she said so.
When considering that, a simple garment is meaningless, she has her dragon, it’s in her room, and she’s a mage.

She’ll just have a servant deliver some clothes, it’s that simple. Her eyes draw back to the waving beast and she covers her ajar mouth lest he say something lewd or untoward about her tongue out in the open. “I’m Louise Françoise Le Blanc De La Vallière.” She introduces herself, a palm landing on her hip. “I have summoned you, so I’m your new master. You may call me Louise, the rest is an important formality for lesser beings.”

“Master?” He asks, that word has no meaning to him, it’s clear in his roving eyes exploring her body. They look at her in a way that almost makes her feel like a meal about to be feasted on. She steps back again as he steps forward. “I’m Aries, or rather, you may call me Aries. My real name is much longer than yours, and very hard to pronounce for mortal tongues, which is just annoying.”

He stands proudly, uncaring about how his hands landing on his hips together causes his incredible tool to attempt to entice her with heat in her belly. At least, she thinks it’s something like that, she refuses to believe she’s actually feeling anything for it. She is a proper lady, and this is embarrassing not, shameful. ”I’m here because you wanted to make a contract. You didn’t negotiate, so I have to assume by the knowledge granted to me that you wanted the standard agreement. Is this true?”

“Standard…” She pauses, her brain racing faster than its wings could likely flap, delving through books she’s studied for the past two years on this topic in preparation for this very day. The culmination of that knowledge quickly provides. She houses and cares for her familiar, and in return it bonds with her and is useful, catching regents, offering its abilities, or even doing menial duties if its skill set calls for it. It’s the life of a servant in ways, but also so much better. So much more important.

You can fire a servant. A familiar is for life, bound til one party dies a gruesome death the other failed to stop. A familiar is something you mourn. “Yeah.” She nods quickly, her pink locks waving as the palm over her mouth leaves it to fluff them and makes sure she looks the proper master. “Of course it’s the standard agreement, what else could I-mmff!”

Her eyes widen for a lot of reasons. The beauty in his eyes when he moves, the way the air flickers when he shifts, the speed of it all and even the simple fact that the thickness at the height of her stomach is getting closer; but what really has her eyes opening are the lips overtaking hers.

They’re fiery and hot, a little rough but in a good way, rough just like she imagined a man’s lips might be. That roughness lets her feel them against her, connect a sensation to every place they touch her own soft clouds. She fights for a second, beating his back with her fists, but she can’t keep it up. Something molten courses through her, reminding her who this is, reminding her that this isn’t a human being no matter how it looks, this isn’t anything wrong and undignified. It’s just how her familiar has chosen to remind her of their bond, so no matter how it would look she accepts it. Lets his lips fog her head and weaken her knees.

His rock hard manliness rests against her stomach, reminding her it’s there just as she’s beginning to enjoy herself. Just as she begins to let the fog warm her up, make her feel like she’s sitting by a fireplace back at home, sipping cocoa after a frosty day playing outside in the midst of winter.

It reminds her of the few times her mother was gentle, and of all the times Cat embraced her when she began to cry. It’s a magical feeling, a powerful one, she opens her lips for him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, his hands feeling her hips.

The moment seems to go on forever, the glow inside her filling her with more joy than she can handle. Until it stops, so suddenly, too suddenly, his lips are taken away and she’s sunk back into the stark reality with a mewl, a little whine from her lips at being dropped back into reality.

A reality that, after a few seconds of thought, is still fantastic. She can’t stop smiling, can’t drop the upwards twitch of her lips that felt so heavy just an hour ago. A forced facade made a reality by the sheer force of her will and reality’s inability to rebel against her. She did this, her, she did!

Her smile is apparently enough to attract another searing kiss from her dragon, then another. She finds her back to the wall, his palms on her ass, his tongue overwhelming her sensibilities and making everything flashy and full of beautiful warmth. Her hips ache and her nipples stiffen just thinking about it, let alone feeling it.

He picks her up, his stature close enough to her that despite her shrimp size it’s still a showing of just how strong her summon is that he doesn’t waver or shake. He wraps her gentle legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him, and she finds herself holding them that way even after his hands land back on her waist, and begin unbuttoning her shirt.

Wait, is this lewd? She finds herself struggling to figure that out, his lips heating her face and his tongue adding a flame to her cheeks that she can’t find an answer or remedy for. It is, it has to be, surely this isn’t innocent, his draconic indecency is rubbing against the thin fabric of her panties a little too aggressively for this to be anything but. A pressure building inside her is what really tips her off, this feels too good, too intoxicating. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and that’s not how this is supposed to be. “Wait-indecent-ah!”

Her mind whirls, her fingers twitching as her brain tries to piece all this together, figure out just how to react to this in a way that leaves both of them happy, and her flaming core satisfied. His forceful lips stop her protests dead in their tracks. Memories flood her, the books her sister used to read, and the ones she stole to try and get an idea of what being a grown-up was. She kept a few of them, not that she’d normally admit it. A scene pops into her head, almost exactly like this, one she used to find herself with shaky breaths and soaked thighs over. A scene so similar she finds herself in much the same undignified state.

She used to imagine the character in the novel, a handsome man of overwhelming power, pushing her down and claiming her as his just like the gentle girl in the scene. He’d tell her she’s perfect, look into her eyes and make her feel grateful just for being alive to experience this.

Looking into his eyes, as her shirt falls from her arms, and her mantle hits the floor, she can’t see any difference from the scene. Nor does it change when her pawprint pattern bra drops against the wood with a soft ‘duff’, its place below her a reminder of the cuteness with which she dressed herself with this morning. He gazes powerfully down at her budding breasts, allowing her mounds to be graced with the ardor of his feverish breath. It makes her moan a little, incapable of holding all her feelings in without expressing something audibly, anything.

The treasures before him never quite hit maturity due to her long nights sacrificing her health to become a stronger mage, they’re one of the most insecure parts of her she has, bits that she’d like to hide away from all, and yet he’s unleashed them for his gaze. “Cute.” He utters, seeing pearls to be cradled, kept and claimed as his. It makes her feel so very hot, reminds her of all those long nights dreaming that maybe her betrothed would make her feel this way. He never did, not once did he even think she was worth just taking like this. It’s a shame, she’s finding out now just how quickly she would have crumbled for him.

“Please.” The word escapes her lips unbidden as her neglected rose nipples somehow reach a new state of hardness under his sight, she finds they hurt a little, and can’t help but rub against his chest to give them even a little relief.

Her teeth gently nibble at his bottom lip, drawing his gaze back to her taffy eyes with a gentle touch to his cheek. The air crackles with the heat between them, so filled with life, it reminds her of her triumph once again. Those are her eyes, eyes she summoned, eyes that will share their vision with her forever onwards. She wavers for just a moment, her insides soaking in wet triumph. She’s unable to utter the next word, not even when her shoes hit the floor. Her skirt falls, held on her only by her grip around his waist, revealing the bright pink panties she wore today of all days as a good luck charm. Such charms are beneath her, but she knew she’d hate herself if she failed and hadn’t taken every single stupid step she could.

Who knows, maybe they worked. She hopes he can’t see the dampness he’s caused.

He doesn’t tease her about them, doesn’t even comment on the gentle staining of her needy fluids right over her most private place. Instead, he takes her lips again; a formed understanding of the words unsaid beating through her chest. Her back hits the bed, and she spreads her legs instinctively, letting his waist go long enough for him to drop her skirt to the floor. He gazes her body over fervently. His hungry eyes devour every morsel of her body, showing his master the care she deserves with his roving tongue alone.

That tongue dips down and laps at her aching nubs, catching her breath in her throat for all of a few powerful moments before he moves down. He doesn’t mind her thin legs or the way she’s squirming in embarrassment. It doesn’t disturb the worship that slides over her waist, only to take a loop down her body then back up to end at her lips once again. It burns the petite form she’s forced herself to take pride in like hot coals. He doesn’t mind her inadequacies, doesn’t care, he wants her and she’s not sure if she can say no, she’s not even sure she’d want to if she could. To him she’s perfect, and she needs that. Right now, tomorrow, always. Needs that approval and adoration like nothing else in her life.

Only one thing stops her from giving up on her noble sensibilities, acting like the dramatic dark-skinned redhead just next door and relinquishing her right to criticize the Germanian forever. A colorful mark over and around her belly button, wide and expansive. It’s reminiscent of one of those inked markings commoners and brigands stain their bodies with, and yet it’s a thousand times more vibrant. It glows a beautiful array of reds and oranges at her sight, accepting her gaze as a trigger for some powerful magic that nags at her calm and prickles the warmth inside her. A dragon’s head stares up at her from her belly, just like the dragon above her stares down at her. “What’s that?” She gasps out, forcing his eyes back down with a gentle palm on his cheek. “A brand of some sort, I don’t remember a branding.”

“It’s our contract.” He explains, patient eyes unwavering. The confident stare of a being that knows it’s gotten what it wants, and a few simple moments explaining the basics is no consequence. That stare wells her saliva at her throat, freezes her blood and fends off the heat for the mere second it takes to be afraid. “We’re a mated pair now, with everything that includes. My mark will ensure many things to come.”

“That’s it? Why is it so-wait mated pair?” She asks. Nervousness embodied by butterflies, they don’t stay at her abdomen, they flow everywhere. Encompassing her form and shrouding her in weakness, doubt. A moment ago everything was so happy, and now she’s unsure whether she made a grave mistake or the best decision in her life. Either way, she’s a doe in the direct light of a torch. Mate means a lot of things in nature, especially in mythology. That could mean anything from a chosen creature to bear his children, to a soulbond entity with which he will never leave.

She’s unsure which she’s supposed to be asking for, too much enthusiasm flows through her, too much confusion to make a proper choice on what her own priorities are. What she does know, is neither necessarily sounds like a bad thing.

“It also does this.” He says, his palm lands on her belly with an odd force that makes her squirm in place. The mark on her stomach glimmers with magic, and her doubts are erased in a roaring flash of fire that burns the wings of her butterflies and ascends her well past her woes like a leaf soaring above a flame on the wings of a smokey wind.

She's massaged by an intoxicating power that refuses to let her go even for a rest. Lightning arcs beneath her skin, spreading from the root of her womanhood to the tips of her fingers and toes. Instantly every exhilarating sensation feels multiplied threefold in intensity as her familiar turns her own magic toward the singular purpose of pleasuring her from within. She finds herself enamored by the feelings climbing out from deep within her, desires she’d long forgotten about. Her panties drench, becoming slippery with her lovely nectar in the same breath that her heart begins to race unbidden of her influence. It’s intimate in a way she’s not sure how to deal with.

She struggles against the clashing tides of bliss that threaten to overcome her, a force of nature that whispers in her ear of all the things she could smile about if she'd just accept the joy sprouting inside from inside her deepest depths.

A Vallière does not give in to the demands of the heart, and neither will she. She digs deep within herself, pushing her instincts to the surface; and those instincts lead her to find herself gently caressing his jaw, a sappy sort of love in her fingers.

With a welling of everything she is and ever has been, she pulls him down to meet their lips on her own terms. She isn’t really bowing to power, she knows that, she’s a proud mage now. She’s taking everything about this moment and making it hers. She makes a solemn vow to match him as his master, and not waste a single moment between them.

His lips are just as she remembers them, just as overwhelming. Her priorities shift when graced against them, the originals flowing away from her under the potent fingers of her own defrosting heart. Fire courses through her unlike any mundane flame. It’s a passionate liquid that flows over and through her. A dangerous oil that sticks to her, holding on and trying to make her lose a battle only she’s aware she’s fighting. The lustful gaze of the strong boy atop her only makes that harder.

His tongue is a blow against her, all it takes is a little nibble at her bottom lip and a prodding of the long muscle to make her open up to him. She swallows her arguments, unable to voice the slightest obstinance in the face of the most important person in her world, maybe for now, maybe forever. She has the feeling the next few minutes will decide that.

His palm leaves the origin of the power coursing through her, grazing her cheek with one hand while the other intertwines in her long flowing hair. She gets the idea within an instant, never one to be left behind when victory is so close, both her hands pull him deeper into her lips with roaming digits.

Their connection is short-lived as the only thing in her universe, his claws gently glide across her delicate skin, distracting her from it all with a caring touch that could bring about the agony she feared just a few minutes ago in the courtyard, but instead, because of their powerful bond and his deep fondness for her, brings about ecstasy. “Aau-” she can’t hold her sounds in anymore, she begs with her breath, baiting him to take her higher and higher.

One of his claws snags her panties, dragging them down her legs, and she lets them go. She pulls her legs back to help him rid them from this moment, kicks the annoyance stealing his attention from her away to the floor, and begs him without words to dedicate himself once again to the important girl at hand. One with a heart that beats for him, a girl who’s cerebrum is pleading with everything it has for him to cease his wasteful movements.

Her prayers to the founder and all else that be are answered by his next movement, a thrust of his hips that slides the monster she identified him with against her lower lips and muffles her cry with the suffocating heat of his tongue. There’s no talking, no questions, the sensitive flesh being ground against sends lightning through her and begs for more with a moisture of its own. She’s not sure when she became so wet, so indecently slick, but each thrust against her makes a splash, drenching it with lewd juices she’d never admit to spilling but spills nonetheless.

The magic inside her wells up down there, stretching her preemptively. She’s sure it’s the magic, her body would never do such a thing, alight her nerves and ready her for a penetration out of wedlock. Actually, “um, we shouldn't-Ooommm!” Her noble sensibilities fall prey to desire. It’s not him that shuts her up, it’s her own force. She mashes their lips together clumsily, writhing in place to the generous feeling that is his bulging spear’s head pushing into her drenched opening. It’s swallowed by puffy lips that nag her for even trying to stop this, trying to prolong the dance that ends with this kind of masterful feeling. She doesn’t dare protest more, lest he take the ramblings of her famous pedigree seriously and dismount her instead of pressing deeper.

She’s unsure how he makes it better, how that’s even possible. She can feel him pull back, threatening to escape her depths and forcing her to tighten her legs around him once again to deny him such an opportunity, and then she can feel him slide into her molten core, scraping her folds and receiving an intimate kiss back from every single ridge inside a place made just for him. None of it should be this amazing, this pure, it’s a mere matter of friction and care.

It’s everything, she can’t feel anything else besides their connection, how cramped he feels inside her and how utterly indescribable that feels. Her scent marks him, much like his marks her, she can make it out through it all as easily as one does melting butter in the morning haze. It’s sweet yet rough, burning wood in the fireplace with which a magnificent dinner is being prepared. She holds it close in her senses, grips it and refuses to let it go even when he pulls back to pepper her with a flurry of quick yet shallow plunderings. It’s something else, anything else to keep her here, able to experience this instead of losing to the dastardly haze that threatens to skip the moment and leave her with a lovely ache.

His grunts fill her ears, warming her cheeks in a new way and sending tingles of pride. Her insides are bringing him that pleasure, she’s responsible. Her arms wrap around him again as well, abandoning his hair to hold him close and force their connection deeper. His draconic penis slowly stretches her, the magic of their bond pushing her body to acclimate to him as quickly as she can. Despite her earlier worries, this is nothing like the Germanian’s disgraceful mockery of her lineage, this is much more meaningful than that. This is about their connection, the pressure building in her isn’t improper at all it’s an unspoken part of their contract she refuses to get wrong.

“Haah-deeper!” She pleads, locking her ankles behind his ass and pulling him between her slippery thighs with everything she has. Through the potency of his thrusts and the wavering of her insides, she can barely see, unable to hold onto such simple senses with every sensation overpowering her and every forceful buck of her hips driving his equally youthful frame closer to pushing her off a cliff she’s not sure has a bottom. Her nails dig into his back, and her pink orbs glance down, admiring the way he visibly stretches her with the few glimmers of vision left to her among the white clouds she resides in for him.

He’s huge, and she’s taking him in well, rocking her hips in a way she’s unsure where she learned, an instinctive motion up and down, around and forward, that’s dearly needed and oh so appreciated. She swallows him, and she shows it, distending beautifully. She looks a bit bloated with him about to hilt, battering the entrance to her womb without any of the hesitance those made lovers upon just barely meeting should show. There’s no way she’s naturally taking him this deep, it has to be magic, the mark she feared gifting her perfection. She regrets doubting him for even a second.

There’s nothing shameful in that, in the way her rock hard nipples rub against his chest, grinding against him and making her wiggle ever so slightly more into the infinite world of rapture gifted to her with her recent success. A rapture that has not died down, could not die down, would not even begin to dare to leave her stranded on an island floating just above paradise. His palms grip her tight ass cheeks, taking ahold of her bottom forcefully. He presses it against his thighs and squeezes in time to another series of powerful thrusts, digging his fingers into her and showing her even more adoration.

Desperation pushes both of them onwards into each-other. Her insides finish stretching and announce their acclimation by squeezing around his titanic rod with everything they have. “T-tight!” He cries out, giving her a dozen sturdy internal prods, flooding the room with yet more delicious slaps that feed her needs almost as much as the summoning itself.

“M-more!” Long forgotten is that this is out of wedlock, it being in her leglock is good enough for her. She doesn’t care that he thrums with power inside her, readying a blast for her insides that she has no counter for, a blast that could spell a new chapter of her life. She’s not sure what the fluid contained within his raggedly drilling staff could do to her. Is it interspecies, or does that mating mark do more? She finds she wouldn’t care even if she was sure. A new chapter is just what she needs, a proclamation to the world that Louise the Zero is dead, and a new girl has arisen from her ashes. A true noble given new flesh.

“Haah-haah-gonna-”

“Please! More!” Wet slaps and dives digging through her become a mindless need that consumes them both, a foolish wave made physical in her deepest folds and the flutter of her womb makes a bold proclamation of her cretinous desires to the tip of his masterful cock. It answers her cry with an eruption of steaming fluid his ancestors would be proud of.

He doesn’t twitch inside the tightly gripping walls running along his mass like a river, he thunderously answers the request on her pretty pink lips and cherry-colored cheeks with a slam that pushes their connection to its absolute limit. He strains against her internal gates and convulses powerful gushes of seed deep into her quivering pussy.

“Hauuuhh!” She bellows without a care, the top of her lungs reaching new heights. A furiously roaring pressure hidden only by the individual strokes and its overwhelming nature makes itself known inside her, shattering and unleashing the dam of emotions and the rivers of fluids it holds back down to meet his firing shaft.

“Graaaah!” Refusing to be beaten, he throbs with power, potently erupting, again and again, to match her flow. They stain the bed below them with a mix of fluids that leave it in a state so far away from its origin it’ll never be the same again.

She bloats wider, filled with cum to a brim that he won’t let escape, his thickness plugs her up like a bath drain does a tub. He holds her that way, forcing the blissful pair to stay motionless for an eternity and a half, captured within a moment. His rock hard mast pumps the rest of what her body so eagerly requests without shame, pushing it out into her while resting atop her. In response her arms hold him closer than she’s ever held anyone, including her sister Cattleya. It feels like if she lets go, even a little, dares to lessen her grip, reality will melt away and she’ll find herself waking up from a cruel dream.

Her legs refuse to let him go, her arms strain, and her breasts heave against him with her wavering breaths. “That, was, perfect.” She decides.

“Best contract.” He grumbles blissfully, collapsing into her and nuzzling her neck. “Ever.”

“Hey, maid.” A busty woman with bronzed skin and formidable assets that put her class to shame calls a much simpler black-haired maid over to her as she attempts to get some simple hallway sweeping done.

Armed with a broom, a pan for dust, and a dutiful attitude the dark-eyed woman marches her way to the calling noble and her Salamander with a fake smile and a cheery spring to her step.

A part of her wishes the woman would leave so she could sneak into one of the spare rooms and nap already, but that’s neither here nor there. For now she’s stuck waiting in front of the last room on this side of the school, the door that belongs to Louise, another spoiled princess. Also quite the prude, she hopes this isn’t a trap on the slutty redhead’s part. If the girl pulled a prank on the prude and blamed her…

She stops in front of the door, just out of reach, waiting for- “Auaauuh! Yes!”

She blinks, looking at the snickering redhead with scrutiny. “That’s Louise.” The Germanian woman explains.

“Haaah-faster!”

“That-noise, that- from the smaller pink girl that lives in that room?” The maid asks, nose twitching even as her cheeks erupt from hearing such a thing. “Is that not more your thing?”

“Would you believe I haven’t messed around today?” The nymphomaniac laughs. “I’ve been too busy listening! It’s been going on for hours, Flame keeps humping my leg because of how crazy it sounds in there.”

“Ah.” The maid looks down at the horny creature eyeing her with a gaze that makes her close her own legs very close together. “Hours?”

“Uuuhaa-it’s happening again! It’s so hot!”

“Hours. I’m so proud of her!”

“Cleaning that up is gonna suck.” The maid realizes, “but… I’m happy for her too.”

“I’ll help.” The bronze titmonster shrugs. “You’d have to get the teacher’s to restrain me to stop me from getting a look at the mess those two are making when it’s all done. Might as well be useful.”

“Ah…” The maid’s eyes trail back to the door. “Then, I’m proud of her too… Actually, why are you waiting?”

“Huh?”

“Why are we standing outside like this?” The staff asks, holding her broom confidently with a patient smile. “Let’s sneak a peek.” The noble’s stare almost makes her tremble, a startling realization that she probably stepped out of line quickly rings alarm bells in her head.

It turns out her anxiety is pointless, the Pinkette’s rival’s stare quickly turns into a budding comprehension. That comprehension is followed by the only natural reaction to such an idea. Sneakily pushing the door ajar, and letting the two of them do just that. The first thought they both have is in tandem, the musk of rigorous mating hitting them immediately upon unsealing the room’s airlock.

The second is a little more varied. A quick blush from the maid, and a small swoon from the noble peeking in on the pair. The redheaded boy bouncing Louise into the air above him notices them immediately, there’s no denying it. They simply aren’t sneaky enough, or maybe his senses are too keen. Either way, his grin catches their eyes, a little feral but most importantly confident and full of vigor.

“Hah-raah!” He sits up, pushing Louise onto her back before slowly pulling out of her with a slick pwip of her juices. His eyes focus on them, no longer needing to devote themselves solely to the dazed girl who’s insides are stretching in an attempt to impede his departure.

They needn’t worry. With his full length exposed to his stunned audience and dripping with her glaze, he flips Louise onto her stomach, pulls her hips up, and lunges forward, impaling his ‘master’ with a single thrust. A thrust that sends a resounding slap around the room, making sure they can’t possibly miss it.

“Haaauhh, thank-you!”

The two onlookers stare silently for a few long minutes, enraptured by the private performance they’ve been made privy to, before finally closing the door and leaving Louise and her mysterious lover to enjoy themselves, which they will continue to do well into the night. Neither of the two girls speak another word to each other, going about their business as if they hadn’t just witnessed the beginning of a great many such events that will occur throughout the school in the coming days.

What they do know is that it was a moment they will never forget, the hot scene forever branded into the backs of their minds. Jealousy, the maid will think back on that scene tonight, and the redhead’s frivolous toying with her male classmates will seem hollow in comparison to what's just across the hall.

But what they will soon come to realize is that Louise’s new familiar will solve both of those problems and more. All they need is a little patience.