Cora was fighting her own bar-mace more than she was slimes.
Who's the idiot that paired her with that thing?
It was a despot's weapon, unwieldy, intimidating in someone else's hands. Two fused iron bars and a frayed leather handle. That tiny build? Made for a falchion or rapier. Something she could actually swing overhand. Ideally, paired with a buckler.
The stiletto I'd confiscated sat in its red leather sheath on my hip. I liked the cut of color, some understated flair, though I wasn't going to ask the girl where she'd purchased it. Some investigation was in order. I unsheathed the blade and held it handle out to Cora, "Give this a shot."
The team princess was going to steam when she caught sight of it.
"I- Mentor Serica..." her fingers were white around the bar-mace's handle. She pulled it through the dirt to rest the pommel against her belly, "can I please use my mace?"
"Give me a good reason."
Here comes the tragic backstory. Steel yourself.
"It was my mother's..." The beaten up hunk of iron matched her hand-me-down chain-mail. Somehow the baker had bagged a warrior.
Pegging confirmed.
I tore my eyes from the bar-mace's tip. Her eyes were down-turned, shoulders slumped.
Alright, I'm not a monster. But it's so damn impractical.
If Cora dedicated herself to strength training, gave it her all, the equipment would still be a total misfit. Her mother must have had at least a foot on her. If she was around she would have delivered this truth.
Her father should have said something, instead he paid me to. This required a soft touch. Not my forte.
"Using improper equipment is going to stunt your growth," I said, and her shoulders hitched. I saw form in the mace, something usable, a jagged forge-hot implement running halfway up its length, "are you open to having it reshaped? Would that still carry sentimental value?"
She tried to lift it, her crushed resolve had tripled its weight and its head clung to the ground, "I can tell you, from the look of that thing. That she valued function, not form. She wouldn't want it burdening you."
Her thumbs picked at the leather.
Best not to rush this decision.
"...Maybe shortened," she said, "I want it to look the same."
"Wise."
I bent and set a hand on its pommel. She let go, and I pulled it into the air.
It was a foot too long for her. I set my left hand's palm-edge to the bar at the appropriate level, about halfway down its length. She'd have to use the thing two-handed for a while, until we built up her strength, "Here?"
"Y-yes Mentor." Her eyes were set with trust.
I tilted my hand and found the right angle, and pressed my palm-edge into the bar, "Melt!"
I'd trained arduously for years to master this heat. Dull red bloomed through the metal around my hand.
"N-now?" Cora stammered, rising to her knees, but she didn't try to stop me. I nodded. Speaking another word risked muddying my command to the flame.
The mace's glow grew brighter red, and then orange. Its material resonated heavy with earth, it didn't want to budge. The pommel trembled in my palm.
I stomped my foot and orchestrated, "Silence!"
It shut up. Let itself be worked, and began to drip. My hand felt the heat, but not the burn. That had been taken from me.
Cora gulped, she didn't fidget, her eyes didn't wander. I had her full attention.
My two other students crested the hill. Reilin had her boots tucked against her chest, treading on bandaged feet. Selenee lacked the poise I'd seen earlier, shoulders slumped and her face turned from me.
No, she'd better watch, this is magic, not that psycho-spiritual drivel she wants to shill. How to get her attention? 'Watch!' would put the elements into a passive role... 'Attend!', dual meaning, keep working, and get your ass over here.
"Attend!"
Liquid metal rolled across my palm, and my wayward lot finally showed some pep. They trotted to a stop and bent next to Cora to get a better look as my fire reached the center of the weapon. I'd cut at a sharp angle. The mace had plenty of heft and a pointed tip would be brutally effective in the right scenarios.
I worked the pommel in a slow turn to feed more iron to the heat. The ground-side half of it was coated in cooling droplets that rapidly lost their glow.
I caught Selenee's eye with a tip of my chin.
This is what it looks like to be useful.
The discarded length hit the ground on its tip and then toppled. I cleaned up my work, made sure each side was uniform, and shaped the point between my fingers. "Dismissed!"
"Huh?" Selenee said, prancing back a step.
"Not you." I pierced the reworked implement into a cabbage head to sizzle and cool.
"Reilin, get out there and pop some slimes already." the hopping blue orbs were all over the place. There had to be a slime-queen nearby. They operated on a form hive-mind, each a small vestigial limb of the core entity, "Don't let any touch your feet or you'll be sobbing on our way home."
Though the idea of her riding piggyback, balling into Cora's shoulders is peak. Physical training and team bonding all wrapped into one.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
I pulled the mace from its cabbage throne and placed it in Cora's hands, "What do you think?"
"It still looks like her," those wet eyes pulled into a smile, "thank you Mentor."
Don't-cry-don't-cry-don't-cry!
"You're welcome... now go kill some slimes." I patted her on her chain-link draped behind and sent her on her way.
Selenee had an eyebrow cocked.
Hmm...
"That was very kind of you, Mentor Serica." she took a measured step toward me.
She knew she was playing with fire. Fuck the agreement. She'd just signed a verbal contract.
"Don't count on a repeat performance."
I approached, adjusted my glasses, and took her in, inches from her face. She had clean pores. Her now smudged lipstick was the only makeup she wore. High-set cheeks spoke to her elvish heritage. She blinked slow, refusing to acknowledge my presence. She'd been analyzed this closely on numerous occasions, "Do you plan to pursue a mentorship?"
"I do." she relayed with even tone.
"Your breath reeks."
I saw the break run in ripples across her face. She took in air through her nose, and tilted her head down to speak, "Apologies."
"Tell me why." I pressed, insinuated myself just a millimeter more into her space.
"I-" there was the wound, "I tended Reilin's blisters."
"With your mouth?" her lip quivered, cheeks tightened.
"Yes."
"Look at me."
Snap. She registered the sound, but pulled her eyes back to mine.
"Yes."
"Did you enjoy it?"
Don't lie to me.
Her eyes winced shut, her breath was all rasp, "I did."
Right. When those lashes pulled open, I was still there, "You enjoy sucking feet."
"I- I do," her lips pursed tight back together. Her pupils tried to pull away but she wouldn't let them. She was at war with herself.
I let her sit in it, gave her the time she needed to calibrate and pull away. She remained.
"My heels are aching."
She paused, eyes dropping to my boots. Then she nodded, and grabbed my hand gently, pulling toward a copse of trees.
Fine, I'll let her have some privacy. Better to keep Cora in the dark, maintain the edge of humiliation.
The sound of struggling girls and popping slimes was now distant. She knelt before me, and began working the buckles on my boots.
"You understand there's nothing riding on this? Your application's already been approved." I said and arched my foot, offering a better vantage.
"I do." she said, pulling the boot free.
"This is all you?"
"It is." she rolled off my sock. Sweat-soaked lint clung to me.
Snap! My cock sprang free of its holster, pressing tight into my leather skirt. Her eyes went right to it, and a soft smile crossed her lips.
I lowered myself onto my ass, my member bobbing against my thigh. From her position she could see all twelve inches, and my sack made loose by the day's heat.
She held me by the arch, two handed, "You're..." she couldn't pull her eyes out of my skirt.
"Your choice." I leaned back onto my elbows and the grit of the ground embraced them. She took my big toe into her mouth and circled it with her tongue, "Mmmm..."
She worked the callous beneath my knuckle and my eyes blurred.
My leg rose higher and she shuffled closer on her knees, and she placed a hand on my other thigh. Pop. "May I Mentor Serica?"
I considered, and her tongue dragged along my arch. I throbbed into the supple leather wrapping.
She missed her chance. She chose foot. You don't get to have both. Not on day one.
I dragged my skirt up my length and gripped myself tight, working my shaft.
"Apologies." Her hand left my thigh and went back to kneading my sole.
A tuft of grass caught my head as I relaxed onto the ground. Her lips and tongue worshiped me at my very base, each toe given complete loving surrender.
I throbbed.
Her head tilted down. Pop. "Mark me?"
That was enough. I shot. It spilled across her wrap, lines of oozing pearl.