Bathroom design

Warning: This fanfiction contains sexual relations, including foot fetish. You are warned and chose to continue.

Nathaniel has been widely rewarded for, once again, saving the British government. This time it's a mansion, and guess what, apparently only one superiorly intelligent spirit is qualified to do the work. What will the malicious djin Bartimeus do to be more than a minor annoyance to the young magician?

Please enjoy this story. Don't hesitate to leave a review or to PM me if you have a question.

For the third time today, Nathaniel goes room to room as I closely follow his steps. His newly obtained mansion is simply enormous, and there are way too many rooms of each type. It's a gift from the prime minister himself, since apparently he single-handedly saved the government from that pesky golem. (As always, magicians are really quick to forget the exploits of their coerced servants.) I don't know what he intends to do with this house, but it seems that I'm the most qualified interior designer he has under his hand.

It's true that I'm remarkable in this domain, and with the never-ending budget he got I was able to do wonders. Persian-style bedrooms, marble floor bathrooms, shiny golden metal on every door handle... In short there is everything of awful taste that magicians have loved since thousands of years. Unfortunately for my renown as an architect, this work adds to my already too long summon and I'm starting to feel really exhausted.

To underline my excruciating work, I added a yellow safety helmet on the head of my favourite appearance, Ptolemy. He's also wearing a high-visibility sleeveless vest, a paint-stained pair of jeans and muddy boots instead of the habitual loincloth. We step into the grand salon, where he made me add white statues on each side of the fireplace. Does he think we're still in ancient Greece? This was already out of style two hundred years ago!

After that, he says that he needs some relaxation and sends me lay the floor tiles in the second kitchen. What does he need to relax from? I'm the one doing all the work! But still, if I want to ever get released one day I need to compel to the short-sized magician. With the help of two lazy foliots, I dutifully rush my task in no time. I don't care if the tiles come loose in three months, I won't be there by then. Hopefully.

I go around the mansion, looking for Nathaniel probably reading a new book on how to torment me for another century. No luck: I can't find the damned kid in his office. I hear some noise coming from the bathroom next to the master bedroom. Since I absolutely don't care about his privacy and that locks are no match for me, I decide to step into the room completely unannounced.

The magician is surprised in his triangular bathtub, facing the opposite direction. He is completely naked. He immediately covers his privates with both hands and turns around, incredibly offended that I dared to intrude on him. Good instinct, because there's not a single bubble of foam and the water is perfectly transparent.

- Bartimaeus! He shouts, a hilarious voice crack mitigating his apparent angriness.

- What? I retort as I lazily walk into the room, running my eyes on what could be improved here. (Apart, of course, from the skinny, barely hairy human currently hiding nothing of value.)

- How can you allow yourself to walk in like that? I'm naked!

- Rest assured that I noticed, I say with a mocking smile. But I don't care at the moment, since my current task is to redecorate this mansion, including this precise bathroom, until I'm freed from this world. The faster I'll do it, the faster you'll free me! I exclaim with hands on my hips.

- I can perfectly see what you're doing, Bartimaeus. You're trying to be the most infuriating possible to force me to release you. (The boy is smart, but it doesn't change the fact that he's the one trying to sound in control while covering himself like a prude.) Alright Bartimaeus, you win. I release you from your task and I promise to dismiss you today. Now, can you leave?

The tanned boy shows a malicious smile and does not take a single step toward the door.

- What? Asks Nathaniel, even if he fears the answer.

- Since I'm done here, I think I deserve my own fair share of relaxation, don't you agree? Before he can answer, Ptolemy removes both vest and pants in a single supernatural swipe. He's left with a bright blue Speedo that underlines my package in a hilariously obnoxious way. (It's one hundred percents Ptolemy's by the way, I wouldn't dare to grossly enlarge myself like many crude spirits tend to.) My master's eyes are wide open, and I've never seen him that red even after one of our quarrels.

As he's stuck in shock for a second, I take advantage of it by jumping out of my boots and stepping into the large bathtub. (I kept the helmet just in case he tries to hit me, which probably won't take long.) It's big enough for at least three boys like us, so I sit cross-legged on the other side to face him. He finally unfreezes to let out his offended tirade. "What do you think you're doing? Get out of my tub right now or I'll reduce you to smouldering dust!" He managed to shout and shake from fury while still perfectly covering what has to be hidden, and it's quite impressive really.

One thing he forgot is that outside of his pentacle he has no power on me. That's one little downside of summoning a djin that knows your birth name, yes. So instead of being intimidated, Ptolemy rests his back against the tub and extends his arms behind his head.

- So, I'm not really used to that 'relaxation' thing. What are you doing here?

- Thinking, he answers really fast. But that's nowhere near your business, demon. You're going to leave right now!

Despite his words, it's my young master that looks around with the hope of reaching a towel without uncovering himself. Strangely, all the ones that he had set up are now too far to grab.

- You're not even washing yourself, are you? Now I understand the smell.

- The smell? He asks, looking traumatised. You're lying, right? He seems really unsecure about my accusation. (Which is somewhat true: All humans reek of that earth-like scent that is inherent to their being, and magicians love to add all kinds of disgusting incenses to protect themselves from us.)

On one hand he rightly doesn't trust me, but on the other hand he's extremely afraid that it could be true.

- You know what? Let me offer you a gift of knowledge to seal my release. Listen: While I was employed by all my previous masters, there was one thing that was immutable.

- What? He asks, always intrigued by the glorious empires I lived through.

- They all recognised that the highest mark of power one could obtain was the level of the spirit that washed them. As a fourth degree djin, I was pretty much the maximum point that was reached in all History. (There is a rumour of Salomon summoning an afrit exclusively for this task, but if you ask me it's just a fairy tale that he spread himself. They smell terribly bad!)

Nathaniel squints as he tries to weight my story, so I quickly throw another layer.

- You don't seriously believe that a powerful magician would wash himself, right? I laugh to highlight how foolish he would look. What do you use yourself, some kind of low ranked imp? I know that this idea never crossed his mind, and now he'll feel forever dumb for not having thought about it himself.

- Yes, hum... I use an imp, he tries weakly.

- Alright, since I've got nothing to do while you 'think' I'll offer you five thousand years of experience.

I grab an unused washcloth and dip it in the warm water, before pulling out his foot by the ankle to rub the wet fabric on it. Nathaniel wants to protest but the grip of Ptolemy makes itself extremely firm, and with his hands full he can't really push me back anyway. "Witness, Nat. You've elevated yourself at the level of the all-mighty magicians of the past that you revere." My disgustingly flattering declaration works like on any of those all-mighty magicians and he changes his mind, allowing me to wash his foot hesitantly.

He does turn his head away to avoid looking at me. The fact that Ptolemy is slightly taller, more muscular, tanned, and generally way more handsome than him despite being also fourteen is probably a real pain for him. (I might be a little biased against the magician that is forcing me to endure a thousand sufferings on this Earth, but in this case it's an objective statement.) Through the cloth, I massage the sole of his foot with a lot of strength in my thumbs. No human is able to resist the pleasure of a good foot massage, and I can see his surprised face that I did not trick him. I'm switching back-and-forth between washing and massaging until the two are mixed up and quite indecipherable. A few times I'm directly touching his feet without the cloth, and I can see the skin-to-skin contact sending a shiver down his spine.

One thing is a little bit bothering: One leg in the air, both hands on his crotch and his head facing away is a position a bit weird to be in. I decide to break the silence.

- Could you explain me why you are hiding yourself from a djin? You know, during my years, I've seen it all! And I don't think you've got anything special, sorry to break it to you. Blood rushes to his cheeks, and he's once again very much red. Since he's not looking at me, he finds the courage to stutter an answer.

- None of your business! I brusquely let go of his foot and it splashes down in the water, making him look at me in fright.

- Oooh! I get it! You're hiding an erection! I say that like if I had solved a three hundred years old riddle. Nathaniel looks at me like if I had lost my mind.

- What? No! I'm not hiding that you ill-mannered sewer wisp! Get out of my bathroom! He tries to kick me, but only throws water around since I'm out of reach.

- Well then, you've got nothing to hide. Look at me: I have nothing to hide. Synchronised with my statement, I pull down my Speedo for a second and flash Nathaniel with a good view of Ptolemy's genitals.

The magician squeaks and closes his eyes, moving his head backward to try to physically repel the sight. But it's too late: He saw the tanned boy's circumcised penis floating underwater flaccidly, and instead of erasing it his brain is showing it again in loops. I decide that since he has seen mine, it's fair play to look at his. I remove his cupped hands by force and lift his wrists over my head. Surprisingly, he was not lying: No boner in sight. He's around the same size as Ptolemy, but uncut. He has also less hair in the pubis area, which probably has greatly undermined his confidence after taking a look at me.

The consequences of my action don't wait to arrive. The young magician tries to wrestle away, now that his nudity doesn't matter. But it's not a boy of the same age that he's fighting; it's a five thousand years old mighty djin with overwhelming strength!

"Calm down!" I order, and he obeys against his will since I'm firmly holding his two wrists in one hand and one of his calves with the other. He's shaking from fear, so I need to secure some kind of appeasement. "I'm sorry I wrongly accused you of being aroused, I recognize my wrongdoings. Let me just resume where I was and forget the situation, alright?"

I let go of his wrists. Instead of hiding himself again, he crosses his arms on his chest with an angry face. That's some kind of progress, but seeing his expression I doubt I'll live pass this day. I need to find an idea to get out of this mess, and quick. To give myself some time I grab his unwashed foot and reapply the nice massage its twin went through. Nathaniel is looking at me with a death stare, probably thinking about various tortures. I gulp down audibly and run my eyes elsewhere. His thin neck, his flat chest, his hairless stomach. Between his thighs, his unimpressive genitals. He barely has enough hair to distinct himself from a girl, maybe everything went on his head? Damned, all I can think about is various insults and demeaning remarks. I've never been good for compliments.

I think I have no choice but to abandon my pride and ask for forgiveness. But I can't talk; it would instantly turn into a strike of insults about his pale skin, his powerless arms, his big head... I'm forced to take an action, and there's only one that would be enough for such a situation. But hey, what could I do with my pride if I'm dead, right? Right? I raise Nathaniel's leg higher, bringing out of the water. Surprised, the boy has to grab the sides of the tub to not fall backward. "Barti-" His angry call stays stuck in his throat, because Ptolemy just brought his foot to his mouth and gave it a long lick.

I slide my tongue very slowly on his sole, from heel to toes. It spreads my saliva on his skin, the hot and slippery liquid helping me lick up and down faster. I taste soap in my mouth, which is not my favourite, but right now that the least of my concerns. I hope that my depravity will convince him of my remorse. "Bartimaeus, st-" He tries to speak again, but I interrupt him by sucking on his big toe. His foot is all slimy now, almost slipping out of my hands from the firm massage I'm giving him.

"Dis- Disgusting" He manages to state, but he's got pulling on his foot at all. I raise my eyes to his, giving him a look that tries to be kind, but Ptolemy doesn't look that good with his mouth full. Nathaniel does lock his sight into mine, trying to judge me severely, but he's breathing intriguingly fast. I let his toe slip out of my mouth, more drool dripping down and joining what's already covering his soft skin. His eyes widen, and he looks down. Ptolemy follows the movement and I fall upon a rejoicing view: His flaccid penis, once floating awkwardly in the water, is now a very little bit stiff and is rising upward slowly.

Success! Ptolemy face displays a large smile, inversely proportional to the peaking embarrassment of my master. I see Nathaniel clenching teeth to try to stop the irreversible movement, but he's getting harder by the second. I rub his foot on my face, licking the skin that passes in front of my mouth. This spreads my own saliva on my cheek, and soon the excess starts dripping down from my chin.

Nathaniel is still completely absorbed by the sight of his member, apparently trying to freeze it by will alone. Once he's halfway hard, his shaft vertical with his glans bulging his long foreskin, he can't deny it no more. It looks like he gives up, and he let his head fall backward to look at the ceiling with blank eyes.

- Oh, don't worry Nat, it happens to the best of us. Well, not me, but I differ. I told you I was the best!

- Shut up! He grumbles, but no words out of his mouth can remedy to the situation. He needs action, and fortunately that's my new motto!

While I distract him by licking between his smaller toes, increasing further the heat running through his lower body, I uncross my legs and extend my right foot towards him. The tub is huge but not infinite, and soon enough my own toes come brushing against his testicles. He jumps, trying to move away, but his back is against the side of the tub and he can't stand since I'm still holding his leg in the air. I finish extending my leg completely, and the sole of my foot now rests on firm spheres topped by a hard muscle. His erected penis is pushed against his stomach, towering the tip of my toes by a few centimetres.

The young magician gulps down and naively tries a way out. "Hum, Bartimaeus? I think you're hum... I mean, could you remove your foot?" His dry voice is funny to hear, but that's not what I'm aiming for. My big toe is very adequately positioned: Just on the bulge made by his glans under his foreskin. Ptolemy bends his toe expertly, and the skin excess is pulled down swiftly. The most sensitive part of my master is revealed to my sight, and the friction caused by my stunt makes him take a trembling breath.

I let the foreskin recover his glans, only to pull it down again with a stronger pressure of my toe. By the way his body shakes, his breathing intensifies, and his half-opened mouth says no words I wonder if it's his first time getting touched by another. One thing is sure: It's the first time that a spirit assaults his most basic instincts seeing how easy that was. So I guess now I have the responsibility to make it unforgettable, not that I would personally want to, of course. I push on my feet to squish his hard penis into his softer lower belly, embedding it slightly to give myself an unmoving target. He grunts a little, but not from pain because I'm very careful with his sensitive testicles. I make him forget his complaints by returning the movement of my toe on his foreskin, easily sending him into bliss seeing how sensitive he is.

I watch his chest rise up and down quickly as he takes deep breath, interrupting himself often to swallow his saliva. All of this is very loud compared to my underwater movements, which are not even splashing water. I realise that I forgot my washing service, and I stop watching my prey wiggling to bring my mouth back on his foot. Ptolemy gently bites each of the young magician's toes, noticing which ones make him react the most. Due to the water I can't tell if the boy is leaking pre-seminal liquid on me, so I don't really know how far he is. Judging that the time is right, I start moving my whole foot up and down against his penis, pulling his foreskin back and forth with an aggressive pace.

He's squeaking now, and I'm absolutely delighted to see him melt under my caresses. I'm relentless, not leaving him a second to rest as I hear him having trouble breathing correctly. He grabs the sides of the tub, his hands crisped on the white plastic, and he launches his head backward as he starts crying out loud. I bite harshly the side of his foot to spark the peak of his pleasure. My master releases his sperm in the water, the viscous liquid floating down onto my foot. Many trails of semen land on my skin as I keep his foreskin pulled down, his penis twitching by itself.

The pressure leaves his body and so does his energy. He's keeping his eyes closed as he tries to take back his breath, but soon the realisation will hit him. Here we go: I see him slowly turn his head toward me, as I look him in the eyes with a growing smile. There're so much words I can throw in his face, he won't sleep peacefully for the next century, at least! As I see much remorse accumulating in his soul, I open wide my mouth to let out my offensive flow.

And... Nothing happened. I'm mute. The treacherous boy casted his spell on me while I was too occupied with my internal celebration! He emits a sigh of relief and allows a smile on the corner of his lips. It's my turn to cross my arms on my chest, unable to prevent Ptolemy's vexed expression. The young magician bursts out laughing and shakes his head negatively. My extreme dismay seems to have replenished his willingness to live in a single heartbeat...