I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

He returned with rope.

She didn’t flinch, but her faint trembling betrayed her composure. Her body knew what was coming before her mind accepted it.

He stopped a few feet from her, and instead of approaching, he turned—and sat.

Resting the rope in his lap, he elegantly crossed one leg over the other as if this were a casual evening chat.

And then he spoke.

“Crawl to me.”

Just that.

Three words.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t repeat himself. He just waited.

Eliz didn’t move at first.

Her body tensed. Her cheeks burned.

She could say no.

She could break the silence and spit the word out like a curse.

But she didn’t.

Because deep down, she wanted to obey.

Slowly, shamefully, she bent forward, letting her hands meet the floor.

The crawl began.

Each movement made her painfully aware of her body—how the silk of her gown clung to her breasts, how her naked thighs spread with every movement, how the wetness between her legs slickened her skin.

She didn’t dare look up.

Not at his face.

Not at the rope.

Not at the heat in his eyes that she could feel even without seeing.

Halfway there, she paused, the silence suffocating.

That’s when he spoke again.

“Continue, pet.”

Pet.

The word sank into her skin like poison and melted something in her belly. She bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape, but her body moved forward in response—obedient, desperate.

When she finally reached him, she stayed low, her cheeks nearly touching the tip of his shoes.

Silence hung again.

Then—a sound.

Julian began to uncoil the rope. She heard the rhythm of it, and her heart thudded in response.

He was taking his time.

She didn’t look up until she felt his fingers touch her chin. They guided her face upward, and there he was.

Calm. Unmoved. A wicked smile playing across his lips.

“Tell me something, Eliz,” he said. “Did you ever imagine yourself like this?”

She hesitated.

“Speak.”

“…No, Master.”

“Liar,” he said, and his smile widened. “You dreamed of this. You just didn’t know it yet.”

He brushed his thumb over her lower lip.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Her eyes lifted slowly and met his.

And then without any warning he spat.

It hit her cheek, warm and wet, sliding down her skin like the reminder of the humiliation.

She froze.

Something in her fractured.

She wanted to flinch. To wipe it away. To scream. But she didn’t move.

He spit on me.

She felt the slick trail slide to the corner of her mouth—and it burned. Not from pain. From shame. From arousal.

Julian’s voice was calm, even colder now. “You’ll leave it there.”

A shiver went through her—not just down her spine, but somewhere deeper.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. Small. Raw.

Julian smiled, as if he saw the exact moment her pride broke.

“That’s what you are now,” he said, his tone dark silk. “Something I can spit on. Something I can bind. Something I can fuck when I choose.”

Eliz flushed violently, but it was true.

Julian watched her for a moment longer before he spoke:

“Open your mouth.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“Wider.”

Eliz obeyed.

Her mouth opened more, tongue now visible.

She felt exposed.

Not just her body—but inside her mouth, vulnerable, offered.

“Good,” he said, his voice strangely tender.

He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in amusement. Power. Cruel affection.

“Stay like that.”

She held the position, each second growing harder to endure.

Mouth open. Kneeling. Face wet with spit.

Julian reached forward, thumb grazing the corner of her mouth again, dragging and smearing the spit, across her lips like gloss.

But then—almost without thinking—her tongue flicked out, just barely, to taste her lips..

Julian’s eyes darkened, glinting with amusement.

“Well, well,” he purred, voice low and teasing. “Are you that eager, Eliz?”

A slow smile curved his lips.

Before she could think further, he leaned in closer, and spat—directly onto her tongue.

The moment it landed, Eliz’s whole body jolted. Her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, overwhelmed by the unexpected heat and humiliation.

Her tongue trembled, struggling to process what she had just taken in.

But as much as her mind screamed in protest, her throat worked as she swallowed—every single drop.

Julian’s gaze bored into hers, dark and commanding.

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice rough with desire. “You take what I give you.”

She swallowed again, swallowing more than just the spit.

She swallowed her pride.

Julian’s eyes never left hers.

Beneath his robe, his bulge was already hard—pressing insistently against the fabric.

He shifted slightly in the chair, like a predator savoring the moment.

Eliz’s breath hitched again, catching on the sight—the way his body reacted so openly to her submission, to her shame.

The room felt smaller, tighter, wrapped in the thick desire of dominance and need.

Without a word, Julian reached slowly for the buttons of his shirt.

One by one, the small buttons popped free, the fabric parting inch by inch.

The dim light fell on his chest, revealing the trained, hardened muscles. Her mouth was dry, but she stayed perfectly still—silent and watchful.

His fingers then moved to his pants, slow, deliberate.

He freed his thick, hard cock from the confines of fabric, already heavy and slick with need. Wrapping his finger lightly around it, he teased the sensitive skin, giving it a practiced strokes.

Eliz’s eyes widened, heart hammering in her chest.

The wordless, intimate display crushed her pride and ignited a raw hunger deep inside.

She swallowed the desperate moan threatening to escape her lips but stayed frozen, unable to tear her gaze away.

Julian’s dark eyes bore into hers—no words, no encouragement—only the raw command of his presence.

He was showing her exactly who held the power here.

Every slow stroke was a lesson.

A punishment.

Eliz’s body trembled with desire.

Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into skin she barely felt.

She was drowning in need—helpless and aching—watching him take what he wanted without hesitation while she was forced to wait, to watch, to burn in silence.

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