Secret Hands of the Arch-ane

Art by nikosnsfw / Twitter

It had been a long day of travelling, but she was here. The pangolinfox’s long, half-scaled tail flicked with anticipation before the colossal domed building that sat amongst a circle of dizzying towers of pale stone. The tall, grand doors of the city’s arcane library stood before her, adorned in gold and white wood. She adjusted the goggles on her forehead, prompting her fox ears to flick back briefly, then stepped over the threshold.

The high hallways and seemingly infinite shelves stretched into an almost misty distance past the large round foyer at the entrance; through the doorway it looked like stepping into the gaping maw of a monster made of books.

Arch was probably not best dressed for spending hours scaling the mountainous shelves for dusty tomes, given as she was in some of her best travelling clothes to make an impression on any academics that could assist her, but she was ready for the task. She’d come too far to turn away.

And besides, she looked damn good. The marble floors with metallic inlay had been polished with meticulous care, and they held a shadowy reflection of her paws as she stepped across the atrium. She tried to see if they reflected up further, self-indulgently, but had reached the counter before she could get a proper glance and almost walked right into it. She straightened herself up and smiled.

She liked her paws. Especially when dressed in long garter stockings.

An administrator stood attentively at the desk; a dark-furred gnoll with flower-like rosette markings in golden brown. They gave the approaching pangolinfox a friendly bow of their head and a smile that showed their cute front teeth.

“Welcome to the Library of the Towers. How may I help you?”

“I need to read about enchantments,” she replied, pulling at the strap of her satchel. She hoped that would be vague enough to get her to the section she needed without undue attention.

“There are lots of those,” the gnoll said politely, straightening their small, round glasses that sat neatly on the bridge of their muzzle. “What kind?”

Arch looked askance briefly, hopefully not enough for them to notice. “It’s a long project, so probably a lot of them.”

The gnoll looked politely skeptical, but seemed used to creatures that weren’t sure what they were doing, and directed her towards a wide staircase behind them to the right, that circled up to the second floor. She gave a quick bow, flashed her teeth in a grin, and hurried along.

The halls were full of academics and adventurers. Many in illustrious robes and studious garb; she realised she may have been wearing something a little too revealing. But while she felt a fleeting rush of self-consciousness, the swish of the skirt at her mid-thigh and the air on her upper hips was a wonderful sensation, calming and exciting all at once. She shot more smiles to those she passed, including some who smiled back and prompted a small flushing of her fur at the cheeks. She’d travelled by herself, as she normally did, but the excitement of meeting someone new was always welcome one.

Once through a large set of oaken doors she was met with a seemingly infinite hallway of books that tracked from floor to ceiling, and further on the floors above. 

Her ears folded back. This was suddenly a lot more intimidating than she anticipated.

“Well… fine.”

She tracked up and down the tall candlelit hallways looking for the section that may help her, her confidence now somewhat fading, but eventually caught sight of a reasonable shelf to begin with, and began sifting through books. 

Her hunt drew her up and down shelves, clambering over desks and book carts (and pulling down her skirt a few times as a result), until some hours later she was sat atop a ladder with a slowly-growing pile of books just in front of her. It was late now, and quiet. The empty library held a quiet loneliness to it that had her huddled over the books she studied.

She threw another one onto the pile with a disdainful tut, and looked around. She seemed to be alone now.

A clean yet well-loved tome of leather sat crooked on the shelf. She reached for it, initially to set it straight again, but paused at the title. Her claw gently traced the gold lettering stamped into its weathered leather surface, and a playful smile edged into the corners of her mouth. This shouldn’t be here.

“Sinful Delights of the Arcane: Magic for Pleasure,” her voice almost caressed the air she said it so softly, enjoying the idea of what might lie inside.

She gave a furtive look over her shoulder to check once more that nobody else was around in the small hours of the evening, and seeing the long hallways were devoid of untoward company, she swept the book from the shelf and began leafing through its crisp parchment.

There was a basic introduction about ethereal magic, and yet another on erogenous zones of different species, and then afterwards were details of the spells themselves, along with very detailed pictures of how each worked. They almost looked like they were drawn with this library in mind. Given the research that took place she wasn’t surprised, but a warm cascade of excitement flushed through her as she flicked between pages, looking at the spells’ effects on the subjects and the words that might conjure such spectral limbs or hold one in a position to enjoy sex further. A creeping sense of envy took hold, and before she knew it she’d reached the end of the book, her mind alight with fanciful ideas of magical sexual adventure.

The book’s last page was a leaf of parchment; an appendix that was a consent form for studies shown in the book (a large part of the introduction was about the ethical minds of the researchers). She knew better not to take it out, but her daydreaming mind forged her to trace a claw over the sections with her name, and invisibly sign the base. She tensed her thighs as she did so, trying to ease out the tension that had built in them over her journey through the book. She closed the leather cover with a soft snap and placed it on the growing pile beside her, letting out a short, frustrated huff.

Her search continued. Each new book she came to held maybe a sentence or two of useful information, and was then quickly discarded. Reluctant to bury the cosily arousing title that kept tempting her back into its pages, she would swap it out for each rejection, and occasionally glanced back through the pages to pore over its descriptions and diagrams again, with one restless paw tightly clutching the edge of her skirt to ground her temptations in the otherwise silent library.

Each time she flustered and put it back, trying to divert her mind back to the task at hand, but the distraction came with increasing speed and intensity, and she found herself shuffling considerably with the burning need that spread across her abdomen to an all-encompassing desire.

One more book, she told herself, then maybe I can find a quiet corner…

The last one on the shelf looked old, and stout, with reinforced metal edges. It had a thick leather belt keeping it tightly shut. Too tight, in fact – someone had wrenched it into the farthest hole and there was no give left to pry it back open. The leather creaked and groaned with all the strength she used trying to pull it open, but wouldn’t budge. She was worried it would break, and feared the cost of having to replace any of these historical volumes of great merit in such a prestigious library.

“I’d have to work here for years,” she muttered through gritted teeth, trying to pick her claws under it to try and generate some leverage.

So intently focused on this clasp, she didn’t even notice the air around her shimmering. Gently at first, then in two distinct shapes that swirled and danced about her; a gentle, silent investigation. The shimmering distortions swept over the back of her ears, down her back and along her tail, then rose above her, still circling in curious regard. The ripples condensed into a shape, coalescing in two hands of soft purple light that flexed and danced with tantalization, descending down to her.

Still pulling at the book’s bindings, she didn’t even feel the first one touch her corset, thinking it just a comforting pressure of the garment adjusting to her studious posture. Then the second swept in, gently caressing her left thigh, casting purple-hued light over the book. She jumped, throwing her arms up. The ladder rocked slightly and she froze, terrified of tipping herself into the ground at the sight of the sudden incorporeal assistance. 

Or whatever they were here for.

The hands were warm, ethereal, and tingled through her clothing with the smooth and gentle caress of a silken glove. The fur on her cheeks flushed as she watched them sweep across her body and up her thigh. She tried to brush one away but her hand passed straight through as if it were nothing, leaving a trail of purple sparkle dancing through the air after her paw. 

But the touch they gave her was definitely not nothing.

It was exhilarating. 

She looked around; the hallway was still empty, silent. She could feel her body heat rise with the gentle electric caress of the hands, one now sweeping to her chest. Her fur stood on end as they passed over it, her skin flicked with their deepening touch. One kept playing over her knee and tickling her thigh in small circles, while the second came to cup her right breast, a gentle pressure stroking around it with care and attention, and a flame of warmth that flicked in intensity as it toyed with her nipple.

Her breathing rose; she couldn’t move, and nor did she want to. Her arms quivered as she held the book aloft and tried to keep herself steady on the ladder’s narrow platform, her tail curling in unconscious response to the hands’ ethereal presence. 

The one at her chest slipped under her blouse and pulled her breast free; the library’s chill against the warmth of the hand’s grasp set her nipple hard, turning into the perfect plaything for the fingers to grasp and pull. Her gasp turned into a smile as it tweaked and pulled; her legs tensed and twitched in response.

The hand on her thigh crept gently upwards, tantalizing, playing with the edge of her skirt. Gods she was burning, desperate to pull her clothes free. The fingers pressed through her fur, creating elegant furrows along her thigh as they continued their path towards her groin. The skirt lifted. Her breath caught. She felt her underwear vanish, not that they were doing much for her right now, soaked as they had become with the warm pulse of their touch. But now she was open to them completely. She could feel her wetness soaking the fur at her thighs, spreading as she squirmed, and dripping onto the ladder. 

She swallowed hard as it slipped a ghostly finger around her clit; her breath shuddered from her as the pleasure began to build intensely from its touch. She gasped and moaned, craned her head back and let her sounds drift to the rafters. The hand kept going, then slipped its finger inside her. She arched her back, eyes wide and maw open with ecstatic delight as it slid in and out with a curl of its digit in that spot, that softest pulse sending waves of sensation radiating through her.

She watched it play under her skirt, felt it deeper and deeper within her, pressing harder and harder. Her breathing was so hot it left rivulets of moisture on her chest fur; the ladder shook with the strength of her thigh contracting and squirming under the strain to contain her pleasure.

The hands were having nothing of restraint; the one at her chest slipped to her other side and took her other nipple into play, and the one at her vulva lifted its thumb to stroke over her clit as it thrust into her.

It was beautiful.

It was amazing.

Her abdomen spasmed. This was it. She was going to cum all over this ladder. Gods, it was incredible. The pleasure was intense but oh, they could draw it out for her. They knew, felt her rhythms, edged her higher till it was almost unbearable.

She felt she would explode.

“AH… p-please…” she could barely whisper.

The hands obliged.

With a final burst they took her to the edge, and over. The incredible rush took her over, blossomed from her crotch and spread through her body in shudders. Her breath caught, her eyes flickered shut, and as the overwhelming orgasm breached, she released a long, sharp, barking moan into the library that echoed into the chambers. She opened her eyes with orgasm-addled bleariness, looking down to see herself pulsing over the hand, dripping over the edge of the ladder. Her moans still rushed from her as a second wave hit; she arched backwards and came again, gripping her thigh tightly to keep her arm from shaking and from falling off the ladder. Gently the hands slowed to a stop, letting her breathe again. She rubbed her ears and wiped the drool from her maw, a breathy laugh clouding from between her fangs.

The hand that had been between her legs rose to meet her nose, sticky with her sweet wetness, and booped her on the nose. She gave it a breathy smile as it waved before vanishing into the air from which it was spirited. 

It was no bad thing she was alone, or seemed to be. The ladder was soaked; so were her skirt, thighs and tail, and there was little around to clean up. Her underwear had also dematerialised, so a lack of observers was kind of a relief.

Not nearly as much of a relief as she just experienced, though. A trip across the reflective marble would be a journey into exhibitionism right now..

Shakily she descended the ladder, legs weak and wobbly, leaving the belt-sealed book on the pile.

She glanced back at the book of Sinful Delights, its golden letters seeming to glow with pride.

Maybe she should come back tomorrow…

From the aisle on the opposite side, a shadowy figure raised a grin, and vanished.