Professor Vespera was no longer sitting upright. She had slid to the edge of her chair, her **long, pale legs** spread wide, her own fingers digging into the upholstery until the leather tore.
She was at her absolute boiling point. Watching Caelum dominate the two younger women was a visual poison that was melting her logic. Her **indigo robes** were drenched; the silk was plastered to her **heavy, aching breasts**, the nipples standing out like dark stones. Below, a steady, translucent stream of her own arousal was flowing down her **inner thighs**, pooling on the floor.
"Please..." she whimpered, her voice a broken, jagged thing. "Caelum... I can't... the pressure... it's too much."
Caelum ignored her pleas. He finished his work with Seraphina, the siren-girl collapsing into a heap of **quivering, magenta-stained flesh** on the rug. He stood before Vespera, his body glistening with sweat and the combined fluids of his servants. He was radiant, his Gold Aether pulsing with a terrifying, predatory heat.
He reached out, tracing a line of gold-tinted sweat down the **valley of Vespera's cleavage**. "You want this, Professor? You want to be used like them? To have your 'Logic' drowned in my gold?"
"Yes! Please! Fuck my head off!" she screamed, her dignity completely gone. She reached for his trousers, her hands shaking, but Caelum caught her wrists, pinning them above her head once more.
"Not yet," he teased, his lips brushing her ear. "A good alchemist knows that the longer a reagent boils, the more potent the final reaction. Feel your own hunger, Vespera. Feel how much you *need* to be broken."
He began to use the **Mina-gauntlet** to lightly stroke the sensitive skin of her **inner thighs**, never touching her core. Vespera's body buckled, her **plush, mature hips** jerking upward in a desperate attempt to find friction. She was a portrait of high-energy instability—a woman of science reduced to a **shivering, leaking animal** by the mere sight of his dominance.