Jump to content
Sneeze Fetish Forum

The Mage and the Maid

Deuce Williams

Recommended Posts

In the tower’s dim candlelight, the Mage’s tongue poked out from between their lips as they sanded the last of the sawdust from their finest work. A pert, wooden nose rested lightly on their fingertips, a pinnacle of precision and meticulous study: from the slightly upturned tip, to the raindrop-shaped nostrils, to the near imperceptible crease on the bridge. Picture perfect, of course. This wouldn’t work, otherwise.

Nevertheless, they stared at it a moment longer, cross-referencing their cedar creation with the image in their head. The Mage twisted it this way and that with one hand, while the other snaked down to a drawer by their side, emerging with the second component of their experiment. A tiny doll rested in the palm of their gloved hand, proportionate limbs filled with cotton and dressed in carefully stitched black silk with a little white square tied around the waist with gossamer string. The doll ended at the neck, a gaping absence where a head should normally be.

The Mage passed their gaze over the carved nose one last time. Yes, it would deem satisfactory. The enchantment itself was relatively simple, even if modern mages had never used it in this fashion. Well, none who recorded it, anyway.

Words passed through parted lips in an indiscernible susurrus, quiet enough that not even the raven stirred on its perch over the desk. From a pocket deep within their dark robes, the Mage withdrew a single ringlet of jet black hair. The hair pressed to the top of the nose, which then in turn pressed to the top of the doll, and the whole contraption glowed a slight orange as the binding enchantment took effect. Months of work, accumulated in a doll barely the height of their hand, but if the Mage’s experiment bore fruit then it bode well for… other possible applications.

Which brought them to the test run.

The Mage stood, crossing their tower in long, smooth strides to stand in front of the floor-length mirror. Carved creatures of myth curved and writhed along its border in tangles of fur and fangs and scales, and a thousand tiny wooden eyes rolled to the Mage as they approached. A fingertip came to rest on the mirror’s surface. “Reperio.”

The reflection of their room vanished in a ripple of silver, replaced with a vision of a lower level in the Mage’s tower. The vision followed a young woman from the front as she traversed the halls. Her dress of black silk, scandalously short for respectable company, was a larger version of the doll’s (though with significantly more lace, the Mage could only do so much with rudimentary sewing skills). Her black curls bounced along with her steps, dark eyes and heart-shaped lips set in a cheery expression, ignorant of her invisible audience.

Their work was perfect, but the Mage held the doll up to the Maid’s face, just to compare. It was like looking in a mirror.

The Maid turned a corner, and the walls on either side disappeared behind bursting bookshelves. Ah, the library, wonderful. It would at least make the experiment a little less… obvious.

The Mage reached into their robes and withdrew a pristine black feather. The raven hadn’t been too pleased to be parted from its plumage, but all in the name of magical discovery! One eye fixed firmly on the doll and the other trained on the Maid, the Mage started slow by pressing the flat of the feather to the carved wooden nostrils.

The reaction wasn’t elaborate, not yet. Just a quick, reflexive sniff from the Maid, her nose scrunching at the bridge. While they hadn’t expected much more, the lack of sensitivity raised concerns. Perhaps, as impossible as it may be, their woodwork was… sub-par. Maybe the wood selection had been wrong, or perhaps they hadn’t deepened the nostrils enough, or a trait had been missed…

Or (and this was more likely) they hadn’t been trying long enough.

The Mage repeated the action, but held the feather to the Maid’s nostrils for several seconds and increased pressure, the shaft bending at her septum. Here was more what they expected in a reaction, one finger coming up to swipe at the mysterious new sensation, coupled with another cute little scrunch. The Maid lowered her hand, only to raise it for a second, harder rub as the feathery feeling refused to be satiated at the first. She looked, cross-eyed, at her nose, as if accusing it of something horrible.

To the Mage’s surprise, her voice floated through the mirror, clear as crystal. “Don’t you start, you can at least wait until I’m back in my quarters.”

The Mage tilted their head in an action curiously similar to their raven. All the months under their employ, and they’d never known the Maid to speak to herself like this. Or, rather, to her nose like this, for surely she couldn’t be aware of their scrying?

She busied herself tidying the tomes the Mage had left laying around the night previous, surrounded by bright shafts of sunlight streaming in from the library’s stained glass windows. Motes of dust danced through the light, tiny ballerinas that vanished as they passed through into shadow. For a moment, the Mage let the Maid’s nose settle, just so she didn’t become suspicious, and studied her in the meantime.

She approached her work with a sense of vigor, humming quietly to herself as she reshelved books according to their system. There was a certain… joy about her, but not the innocent joy of children. No, the Mage hadn’t yet sensed anything suspicious from their employee, but something unsaid simmered below the surface just the same. As she hadn’t tried to kill them yet (an unfortunate problem with a past employee), the Mage was content to let her see to her duties as she saw fit and deal with secret-stealing or assassination attempts as they arose.

Though it was difficult to imagine nefarious plots coming from the woman who spun through sunbeams like a ballerina in her own right.

Too good an opportunity to miss, the Mage slid the feather into the Maid’s left nostril as soon as she opened her eyes into the light.


The gasp came, sudden and involuntary, and the Mage withdrew the feather in a snap. A finger shot up to clamp under the Maid’s nose, which flared once, twice against her finger before calming again, the affected nostril flushed a light pink.

Curious, the Mage set a finger against its wooden twin. Even through their glove they could detect a gentle heat. Interesting. The bonding spell was stronger than they’d expected.

They knew it reacted well to the feather now, so it vanished back into their robes. How well would the spell react to different stimuli? Could they affect the flesh themself from this distance, despite their unmalleable link?

A hand approached the wooden nose, hesitated. They needed to be subtle, at least for now. “Augeo.” The image in the mirror tightened until only the Maid’s face remained, pinked but unperturbed. From this vantage, the Mage could see the birthmarks on her jaw, the length of her dark lashes, the baby hairs escaping her tight ringlets. Their hand closed the distance, a fingertip hooking under the right nostril and slowly, precariously, guiding it outwards.

Their theory proved correct as the Maid’s corresponding nostril widened without any apparent influence, and a slim-fingered hand raised to paw at it again. “You really are being a terror today,” said the Maid, but the Mage caught the smile in her voice. “Guess that means later will be enjoyable.”

Another odd thing to say.

“Procul,” the Mage turned to their desk as the image widened again, the Maid’s whole body in frame. They scooped a bit of sawdust into a tiny wax seal spoon before returning, trailing in their wake a cedar scent so heady even their own nose gave an impertinent twitch. They brought the doll to the spoon, barely an inch apart, and waited.

Scents appeared to work as well, as the Maid stopped dead in her tracks to give three heavy hitches, chest heaving against her uniform. “Hihh… haahh… hAAHHH—” The blasted finger made a reappearance, though her nostrils continued to flare worryingly. Now her nose deepened to a vibrant red, the heat pulsing palpably through the Mage’s glove.

While the Maid finally talked down the impending sneeze, she continued to sniffle lightly against her finger. Her unwillingness to lower her hand meant nothing, she’d have to return to work eventually, and the Mage could be patient. It gave them more time to prepare.

The rims of the wooden nostrils had performed admirably, but now to explore the depths. The Mage had carved deep caverns into the nose, although not deep enough to emerge through the back. Hopefully it would still be enough to cause a reaction. Their empty hand glowed with a soft green light and in their palm grew a long-stemmed orange flower, petals no larger than a gnat, but potent nevertheless. The Mage wasted no time guiding the flower into the right nostril until the stamen pressed gently against the sanded interior.

The Maid nearly dropped her stack of books in effort to staunch the rising sneeze. As little as her finger helped now, she rubbed and pinched and massaged valiantly, the tiny flower inciting a torturous tickle farther back than she could hope to soothe. Dark eyes flickered back and forth between peering down her nose and rolling sneezily to the ceiling, lashes fluttering. “Ahh… *sniff* huh-haaahhh… haaaAAAAHH… huh huh HUH—” Her breath came in unsteady little gasps constantly now, the curve of her breasts swelling dangerously against her low-cut neckline (not that the Mage noticed, no no, their mind was focused solely on the success of their experiment). “Hihhhhh hiiihh haaAAAHHH… o-oh go-huuuuhhhds… HUHH…” Her knees softened, weak with the desire to sneeze, but the experiment wasn’t over, not yet.

The Mage withdrew the flower, and ghosted her distant finger with one of their own, rubbing firm circles over the wooden nose’s hot nostrils in soothing repetition.

For a tense second, as the Maid hitched and gasped sneezily against both their fingers (physically present or not), the Mage thought they might have gone too far too fast, too excited with the spell’s success.

Huhhhh… I-I need tuuuuhhh… need *sniff*hahh HAHHH… need to sn-snuhhh… sneeeeheeeze…”

The Mage paused in their ministrations. The desperation was there in her wavering voice, yes, they’d often felt the same with a stuck sneeze, but the… longing… that was a new one.

They leaned closer to the mirror, closer to her arched nostrils, her eyes glistening with unshed sneezy tears, they saw the eagerness. Anticipation. The Maid was waiting for something wonderful. But what?

Perhaps her post-sneeze face would reveal more clues. As her frantic, heady breaths slowed from necessity to simple possibility, the Mage once again withdrew the raven feather. Time to end the experiment. It wouldn’t take much, not anymore, not with the way her body surrendered to the sensation, sneeze practically bursting from every seam (especially at the bust no stop looking at that).

They gave the feather a quick swirl, just dusting the rims of her nostrils, eyes trained on the Maid as the last nail hammered into the figurative coffin. For a beat, a sense of tranquility overtook her flushing features. Then, her nose twitched massively, jaw hanging open, the beginning of the end.

Ahhhh *sniff* ohgodshereitcomesaaaahHHHHHH…”

Against all logic, the Mage’s throat dried as they watched their employee force words through her spasms of twitches and flares, nostrils dancing as the dust had not five minutes prior. Somewhere (far in the back of their mind) the Mage wondered how much of her reaction was their own influence, and how much was a result of her environment.

They couldn’t expect a single maid to keep the library dust-free, after all, it was unrealistic.

A larger part of their mind was occupied drinking in as much hitherto unexposed skin as possible as the Maid’s lungs filled to bursting, hitching with a power that shocked even them. Her nostrils expanded impossibly wide, and still the finger tried its absolute damnedest to turn the tide. It had about as much as effect as a twig would have containing a waterfall.


The heat threatened to burn their hand, and elsewhere.

AAAAAHHHHH-XIHHEEWWW!” The Maid rocketed double, spray arcing through the sunbeams (and for one glorious second the Mage caught a glimpse of the dark valley between her breasts) before she snapped upright in preparation for a second explosion. “UUUHHH-SHEWWWWWW!” The second, harsher than the first, powerful enough to lift one foot which stomped back to earth as the Maid charged a third. “Ahhh… AAHH-CHIEEWWW!” Higher pitched, this, with a hesitation at the beginning. Were they becoming painful? The Maid’s unflappable finger scrubbed wildly at her nostrils as she reared back again, “huhhh… HUHHHH… HAAAAAAAHHH—”

Nothing happened.

“H-huh? Huuhhh huuuh-HAAAAAHHHHH—”

Another false alarm. The Maid reached up with her other hand to massage the bridge of her nose, not talking down the fickle sneeze this time, but rather encouraging it. She sniffed harshly in time with her hand, desperate for stimulation.

The Mage could do better. They flicked the feather lightly against her septum.

Her watering eyes slammed shut, one final, giant gasp inflating her chest before one final, giant sneeze.


Silence reigned in the aftermath, the only sound her quiet panting breaths as she came down from her fit. Her face took on an expected relief as the persistent tickle in her nose was finally vanquished, but under that lay something not quite so expected. A kind of resignation? No, a bliss.

Realization hit the Mage at the same time the Maid uttered a happy sigh. They stared dumbly at the mirror as their employee picked up her stack of books and continued sorting, none the wiser while the Mage felt their world had shifted two degrees to the left.


That experiment had certainly turned out successful.

Perhaps it was time for a new one.

Link to comment

This was remarkable! Also a big fan of this style of writing, looking forward to seeing any more you bless us with..... no pun intended lol :)

Link to comment

This..... Is absolutely legendary! I really hope you'll continue to write more stuff like this in the future, your writing style is amazing!

Link to comment

A busty maid trying not to sneeze while trapped in a dust-filled library!? This ticks all of the right boxes for me :D 

On 8/23/2022 at 6:51 AM, Deuce Williams said:

Perhaps it was time for a new one.

^I certainly think so! 

Link to comment

Oh wow, this was truly fantastic to read and a great example of the voodoo sneezes genre!  Don't see too many of those, to be sure.  

Would really love to read some more of this!

Link to comment

This is a new favorite of mine too. please continue when you get a chance. I guess that the Mage could try to increase the sensitivity and power of the Maid's nose as a potential experiment not to mention seeing if they could use the link to see if they can make her sniff when she is near dust.

Link to comment
  • 4 weeks later...
  • 6 months later...

Thank you all for your wonderful comments!! At long last, I have a part two, where the Mage finds out some... interesting things.


The Mage found themself reading the same passage in their book for the fourth time, and couldn’t even find it in themself to be upset about the interruption of their studies. After all, how could one concentrate on magical theory when a far more interesting experiment brewed not one aisle over.

Even the vast, dead air of the library, thicker and quieter than a fresh snowfall, failed to muffle the sporadic, mind-blanking sounds emitted from the Maid as she reshelved the many piles of books the Mage left out (possibly for this reason. Possibly not.) Stifled, quiet, like she was attempting to hide her reflexes and the resulting secrecy only made them more potent in the silent tower.

snff… hihh…”

No, today would not be a day of contemplation. The way things were shaping out, it would barely be a day of higher thought.

Hopefully, if they’d done their calculations correctly, they wouldn’t need to wait much longer.

The Mage had just started the fifth futile read of the passage when movement caught their eye, and they clamped down on a guilty jump as the Maid passed into their line of sight. She kept her dark eyes downcast, submitting to the appropriate level of humility when in the presence of a Practitioner. They were used to this, of course, it came with the position, but for the first time the Mage found themself wishing she would raise her head so they could better see her nose.

For the sake of the experiment, of course.

“I’ve finished my duties for the evening, my Entranced.” Was it just their imagination? Or did her voice skew towards airy breaths this most fine evening?

A beat too late, the Mage remembered themself, forcing their attention back to their tome. “Very well. On the morrow.”

“On the muh-morrow.” She answered, and the Mage displayed unparalleled self-restraint by not combusting that very second. Only truly herculean amounts of discipline kept them in their chair until her footsteps faded away down the curling stone steps, and in a heartbeat they were taking their own staircase upwards three steps at a time. Studies be damned.

On any other day, the trip up to their workshop at the top of the tower would be a slow one, used for solidifying new concepts and basking in the natural light that flooded in though even-set windows lining the stairwell, but today the climb seemed too long, too slow. By the time they skid unceremoniously into the warm, ever burning candlelight, hat askew and chest heaving, an eternity had passed. They made straight for the window, one hand out to draw back the heavy velvet curtain, when a sudden hesitation stayed their movement.

The Mage was not one to leave experiments unfinished. They reveled in the unexpected, the disastrous, the kinds of magics that pushed boundaries, yet for some reason the thought of seeing this one to the end set an uncertain tremble in their fingertips. They wanted to know. They didn’t dare. But they needed to.

Slower now, more reverently, the Mage drew back the curtain to reveal their prize. On the windowsill, held sturdy with a stone and a bit of twine, sat the little Maid doll, unchanged in its crude black silk dress save for one imperative detail: secured with a bit of tree gum, a downy white feather hovered just inside one cavernous nostril, equidistant from every edge so only a hairsbreadth of distance separated the trembling fibres from the walls. The single black ringlet attached to the perfect wooden nose swayed slightly in the breeze, and with it, the white feather brushed, ever so gently, against its wooden snare.

The Mage had rigged this up in the early morning, the most effective way they could imagine to incite a kind of extended, torturous tickle deep in the nose of their employee, and the theory had bore fruit. All day, she’d been sniffling and sighing and rubbing at her nose, attempting to soothe a phantom itch as impossible to staunch as the wind itself. Once, it had crescendoed into a long, gasping hitch that left the Mage inching forward at the dinner table, thighs tight with anticipation, but that damn blasted finger of hers ensured the quivering throes had never strengthened into a full sneeze.

Nearly thirteen hours of continuous torture. That had to be enough.

Gently, the Mage removed the doll from its perch, taking great care to ease the feather out cleanly. They could perhaps use it again, but better this experiment be thorough.

Like the torture trap, the Mage had prepared other elements in preparation for this evening long in advance: their soft armchair sat in front of their scrying mirror, a small table on both sides. To the right, an empty notebook sat open, a fresh quill at its side, waiting patiently to be filled with many detailed observations.

At the left, the table was filled with far more interesting items: feathers of all sizes, a collection of fine dust, spices from far off lands, and an intriguing mixture of the Mage’s own design. The edges of their own hawklike nose flared in recollection of creating that formula, finally stumbling to throw open a stained glass window as they sneezed and streamed and gasped and sneezed some more.

They had deemed it very promising indeed.

The Mage’s legs shook as they lowered themself into their chair, and it wasn’t nerves, of course not, it was the anticipation of a theory correctly confirmed. Still, they flexed their hand once, twice, before setting a finger against the glass. “Reperio.”

And there she was. In her quarters on her bed, the Maid’s appearance had shifted radically from how she walked the halls, and a whole new world bloomed in the Mage’s mind as a flush bloomed on their neck. Gone was the black silk of her uniform. They’d allowed her to pick the style she liked (it made no difference to the Mage, as long as she could clean equally well in a sack or a scrap) and she’d selected something daring for even the modern woman, but her sheer white sleep shift left nothing to the imagination, neckline dipping lower than the heat in the Mage’s stomach. Her black ringlets hung loosely around her shoulders, no longer pinned up in her cap, her bare feet tucked underneath her where she sat demurely on her bed, eyes trained downwards like when she’d spoken to them not moments before. This time, however, she did not defer. She studied, far more intently than anything the Mage had been able to accomplish today, and the source of her focus drew all thought from their head.

Spread along her bedsheets in a neat, organized line, were tools much like those that sat to the Mage’s left. Though not quite as elaborate, their intention was immediate and obvious.

The Mage had not predicted this was to be a part of the experiment.

The Maid sniffed harshly, scrubbing back and forth underneath her nose with a finger, and for a heart-stopping moment the Mage thought they might have missed their opportunity. The Maid spoke, “my nose has been itching and tickling and teasing me all day, the cheeky thing.”

She spoke like this to herself? The Mage might have briefly questioned her sanity if the words hadn’t been instilling a whole new feeling in their core. Then the Maid turned slightly, and a shadow moved at the edge of her bed.

The cat. They recalled specifically telling her to get rid of the mangy, scrawny thing, fighting back an allergic fit as they did so, but there it was. At home in their tower. Sneaky devil. At her words, the creature opened one baleful orange eye before purposely shifting to lay with its back to her, not participating in the conversation.

She continued, unperturbed. “I’m afraid I’ve been fighting back sneezes all day and I simply ca-hahh… can’t take it anymore.” Surely she was playing up her symptoms? The feather was no longer in her twin wooden nose, she should not still be feeling the effects. They made a mental note to check the binding spell to make sure nothing had gone wrong.

After this experiment, of course.

She surveyed her tools, soft sniffles floating through the mirror surface as she weighed her options. Idly, the Mage found themself matching the sawing movement of her finger over the wooden replica, unwilling to let the experiment end before it began. “Naughty little thing. I’m sure my Entranced thought me quite the sniffly fool today.”

Her Entranced had not.

The Maid raised her head, exposing her twitching, pinkened nostrils perfectly to their vision. The wooden nose might be a perfect replica, but the Mage mourned its inability to adopt that pink dusting, the tiny flares of a brewing tickle. Some things flesh simply did better. “Oohh… the urge to sneeze has died some, of course, that’s just my luck. I’ll need something to coax it out.” The Mage held their breath as she reached forward and plucked a long, dusty gray feather from the impractical duster she so enjoyed using. Was it for this sole purpose? “This will do. Nothing riles me up more than a beautiful feather.”

The Mage’s mouth dried out as she raised the tip to her flushed nose, the contact barely enough to bend the shaft as she twirled the thing around the very edges. They understood now, this was an endurance game. Very well, they could play by those rules. They ghosted the feather’s tip with their finger, soothing the tickle as soon as she created it.

“Oh, you’re usually suh-so helpful,” she bemoaned. “Perhaps the tickle has rehh… retreated deeper.” With reverent care, she slid the tip of the dusty feather into her left nostril and it arched sharply at the tickly intrusion. “Muhhh-huuuh… much better…”

The subtle twitches of her nose expanded into irritated pulses, tortured to insanity by her own ministrations, and her breath caught to match the rhythm. “Hahhh-hahhhh… o-oh yes, thahh… that feels wonduhh-huhh… wonderful.”

Something sparked in the Mage’s mind, a spell learned long ago for preservation. It froze the object in time, stagnant, unable to proceed or retreat, and was simple enough to cast numerous times in quick succession. This was the point of these experiments, surely no other Practitioner had dreamed of using the spell to keep a stuck sneeze hovering at the edges of a tickled nose! The Mage whispered the spell, a ribbon of purple light encircling their wooden nose like a chain before vanishing in the candlelight.

She liked to play the long game? They would assist.

From their own table of tricks, the Mage selected a similar feather (though cleaner and more taught than her well-used duster). As she was tending to the left nostril, they slid their tool into the right.

The Maid’s head jerked back with an alarmed snort, nose scrunching against the feathery intrusion, before her jaw fell slack. “Huhhh?? Hahh-hih-haaAAHHH… suhhh… suhhddnly I feel so snuhh-snuhhhh… so snuuhhh-huueezyy…” Her hand fell, limp in the shadow of sensation, and the feather fluttered to the bed with it as her breath caught, head tilting to the ceiling once more. The Mage watched, enthralled, as her nostril writhed and squirmed around the phantom feather, felt only physically through uncaring wood yet no less potent as they worked the sharp tip around the rim of her nose, careful not to push too deep too quickly.

The Mage was nothing if not skilled, and while the Maid sat and hitched and heaved and built, the preservation spell ensured no sneeze would draw near. When that became evident, the Maid took to scrubbing at her tickled nose with what the Mage was convinced was her favourite finger. “Ihhihhh… I nehhhhh-hehhh… HIIHHH… need tuh-to sn-snuuhh… to sneehhhh…”

She hovered at the edges of a precipice, but not a divide between hitch and sneeze. No, she lay between hitch and hitch, and theories deserved to be tested. The Mage withdrew their feather slowly, gently, leaving plenty of itchy sensation behind for her to attempt to rub or sneeze away. With a quiet word, they ended the first preservation spell.

The effect was immediate, the Maid’s nose deepening from early sunset to a deep red rose. It jumped wildly, as if it had a mind of its own, and the Maid could only give it one confused, cross-eyed look before she surrendered to its relentless need. Her back arched, shoulders drawing up, and every deepening, uneven breath brought her one thread closer to bursting out of her shift. Her breasts, more of them than the Mage had ever seen, glowed milk white in stark contrast to her flushed face, and bounced gently in time with her sneezy hitches.

The Mage waited. There, when surely another gasp would lead to sweet release, they pressed a finger underneath the wooden nose, massaging the tickle not to stillness, but to agitation. And on the cusp of her next breath, they repeated the spell.

The Maid sat arched, head back and arms limp and chest (so much chest) heaving as the sneeze locked in the depths of her nose. No advance, no retreat. While her nose remained active with its efforts to expand past her face, her eyes remained lidded with the same expression they’d seen upon the first attempt: bliss. She enjoyed the kind of torture that would break any other man. What must she see in the helplessness, the unmet desire, walking the edge of sweet release and choosing not to tip over?

Maybe the Mage’s next experiment would have to be a little more personal.

But one at a time.

How long would it take to break her? To make her beg for release? Would she ever? Another hypothesis. The Mage gently manoeuvred the doll’s wooden nose so the nostrils could lay flat, set it upright in the dish of dust, steepled their fingers and waited.

Instead of even, timed gasps, the Maid’s breath took a stuttering quality, clouds and clouds of misplaced dust sucked into her nostrils with every ticklish sniffle. Was it just the Mage’s imagination, or could they see fine gray puffs encircling her twitching nose, hovering around the now cavernous nostrils like mist over a mountain. “Hehh-HEHH… hih-HEEEHHHHH… ahh… aahhhhhhhhhhh-HAAAHHHH—HA-HAAAA…” She snorted and wheezed and snuffled as the dust teased every inch of her reddened nose. A shimmery glisten started at the base of one nostril, trailing a clear line down the curve of her lip, its run interrupted with every contortion of her desperate, sneezy expression.

The Mage wondered if this was what true beauty looked like.

Whaahhhh-hAAHHH… whuhh-huhhhy cahh-hhaahh-HAAHHH… can’t I sn-snehh-sneehhh-SNEEHHH—Sneeze?”

Why, indeed?

Their preservation spell ensured the Maid’s brewing nasal explosion would never climax, but surely there was no better time to test their new powder mixture than with a captive audience. The Mage removed the wooden nose from its dusty cradle, brushing the last few clinging particles off the nostrils and inciting another bout of (glorious, revealing) hitching from their employee.

“Guhhhh-hhaAAAHH—HAAAHHHH—snff sn-uhHHH… oohh, the tea-hee-heeehhh… the tease…”

It was about to get worse. The Mage had experience with the potency of their brew, but even as they took the tiniest pinch onto the tip of (what was becoming their favourite) a taught black feather, a tendril of gentle prickles buried themselves deep into their own long nose. “Uhhh—” their chest jumped in a sneezy inhale of their own, but they clamped down on the sensation, unwilling to miss the end of a very promising experiment.

Sniffling lightly, the Mage rested the tip of the feather against the bottom of the wooden nose’s right nostril, where the glistening river of mess originated in its pulsating twin. Slowly, reverently, they dragged the tip up the inside curve until it hovered against the upper point of the teardrop shape, painting a half-circle of shimmering, powdery torment.

The Maid’s breath stuttered alarmingly for a moment. Was there a way a strong enough reflex could break a simple spell like the preservation charm? Could biology overcome magic? “HaaAAHHH… HAAAAHHHH… p-plea-hihh­-hease, I n-need tuhhhh-huuhhh… to snaAAHHHHH—”

There was the break, the beg, but the Mage found themself too occupied with other matters to enjoy it: the lingering tickle from their concoction as well as extended exposure to the Maid’s tortured commentary had bloomed into a series of their own heady hitches. Desperate to quell the growing sneeze, they placed a gloved finger under their quivering nose. If it worked for her, it might work for them.

Except for one tiny fact. They hadn’t let go of the coated feather in the process.

So close to their face, the mixture brought a second, overwhelming wave of irritation, and the Mage’s nostrils flared only once against their finger before all was lost to the incoming sneeze. “Uhh-huuuhhh… huuHH-HAAHHHH—NGGXHEEWW!!”

With the relief of release came a smaller sense of the same, as their lapse of control shattered the preservation charm. Too busy talking down the next ticklish itch to reset the spell, the Mage could only watch through welling eyes as the Maid’s day-long torture finally came to a gasping, heaving end.

The bliss on her face was no less evident through her sneezy tears, nose bright red and dancing wildly as her climax begun. “Thaahhhh-hahhh… there i-ihht ihhh-hiiiihh HIIIIIHHHHH—” Unlike during the first experiment, she didn’t bother attempting to staunch the need with her persistent finger, arms slack next to her as she arched back with hitch. “HIIHH—HIH-HEEEEHHHHH—” Her breasts bounced in earnest now, the neckline of her shift pulled so tight she practically bulged out the top. So much life, so much movement in the simple action of a sneeze, the Mage found themself eagerly drinking in every detail and suddenly they realized they could no longer equate this to the simple interest of an experiment.

At the tipping point, the Maid paused: mouth and nostrils gaping, every exposed inch of her tight with desire and flushed like a blushing bride. She was so radiant that the Mage nearly forgot about their own build-up, caught in the throes of her ecstasy like a ship in a storm. If they could freeze this moment forever and lock it in their memories, they would do so in a heartbeat. As it was, human reflex had other plans.

hhhaaaHHHHHH—HAAAAASCHEEWWWWW!!” The Maid pitched forward, spraying openly over her bedspread with the first release before snapping back for a second. “Ahhhhh-HHHCHOOO!” A third, a fourth, a fifth. “Huh—CHEWW! HAH-CHIEUU!! Uhh… uuhHH—SHEEWWW!” She gave a few rapid sniffles, building up to a final, nose-clearing conclusion, tenting the pinkened nose with her hands. “aahhhh… haaaahhhh… guhhh-HHAAAHHHH—XIEWWWW!!”

With the sound of her relief, the Mage could take it no more. They stammered and hitched up to their own ticklish explosion, a finger under their pulsing nostrils all the while. Admittedly not as impressive as the Maid’s, their sneeze was no less desperate. “Uhh-huuHHH… HUUUHHH—SCHAAAAAHHH!!”

As the Mage sat, boneless and basking in the Maid’s pleased sounds filtering through the mirror, they thought they might have figured out what all the fuss was about.

But perhaps one more experiment was in order.

Link to comment


I am so glad I threw you a follow yesterday to see this pop up, just as amazing as the first! Ever looking forward to see another part.

Link to comment

Can I just say that I LOVE your descriptions of the Maid's Nose and Nostrils as well as the Wooden Version. I hope that we get a part in the Future where the Maid discovers the Wooden Replica of her Nose.

Link to comment
  • 3 months later...

Great work! Love the build ups and LOVE the descriptions of the chest! That's one of the things I always look out for and you did it well.

Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Create New...