It was midnight, and if the city slept it was certainly having restless dreams. In the darkness of the upper-class districts, adulterers and smugglers slipped along the edges of shadowed streets, unseen. In the markets, beggars and rats still cleaned the day's offcasts. And in the Pickaxe district, well...
Upstanding citizens didn't have anything to do with the Pickaxe districtโ locals would attest that the name refers to a weapon of choice. Also known as "the shady side of town", it was ironically the most illuminated at such hours as these. Drunken miners careered down streets where taverns and brothels spilled light and noise into the night.
In the shadowy lee of one such, there was a small shower of silver sparks. It illuminated a young, handsome face for an instant, and the cigar he was lighting. Then all was dark again.
The face belonged to Jasha Sill, and had it been seen by the wrong people, he would have been summarily blasted from existence. He'd grown up on these same streets as a pickpocket and worse. It was a career that he had excelled in for plenty of reasons, but chief among them was the fact that he was a wizard by birth.
When he'd eventually been caught, he'd been saved from the gallows by The Learned, those old farts who lived in their big marble dome and frowned over books. They'd wanted to teach him, to study him. He'd wanted to live.
So he'd patiently shown them some of his more nefarious tricks, and they'd taught him useless clap-trap. His real area of study had been in breaking out of magical prisons. He turned out to be a more than capable student.
The problem with it all was that they had him under Geas. If he was not under their roof at dawn and dusk, he would die. So, with escape ruled out, his forays could only be excursions of pleasure. Tonight, he had only one aim: Fucking.
Unlike those other morally castrated cantrip-hurlers, a protection against certain diseases was one of the first things Jasha had ever discovered. Aided by a hearty repertoire of charms, he'd taken the city's women by storm.
And while that was all well and good (very good, in some cases), it wasn't why he was skulking in alley-shadows now. Or, in a way, it was. There was no skill, no excitement left in laying down a few well-chosen spells and having a senator's daughter ravish you. He'd found a new game.
Like a great swordsman duelling left-handed, he'd taken to seducing women without actually charming them. He waited here now, while a whore who called herself Emerald finished up inside.
She's probably on her knees right
now
he mused to himself,
her pretty face shoved into a pillow, those silky hips gripped by some filthy labourer's rough hands. He's probably drunk, plugging away at her with no more thought than he wouldโ
His thoughts cut off as she appeared at the mouth of the alley, striding quickly past.
"Hey!" He called. She startled.
He tossed his cigar aside and sauntered out into the half-light, where she would be able to dimly see him.
"Where are you going, pretty lady?" He asked. The fear in her eyes was turning to scorn.
"Home," she replied curtly.
"Would you like me to come? I've heard the streets here are very dangerous."
She snorted a laugh and jerked a thumb behind her. "There's plenty of girls in there. Have fun," She said, and began to walk away.
"But they are not you."
She hesitated and slowed, and he took his chance to walk up to her. He was as well-dressed as he could afford to be without inviting a pickaxe in the back. He knew he was good-looking enough, and he'd taken care with his hair and scent. He lowered his head humbly, saying:
"Let me take you home."
There was a moment's stillness, then she sneered.
"Ten gold pieces," she said harshly. That was a fortune in these parts.
"If I wanted to buy your sex, I would have come earlier. I want what I cannot buy, what you can only give me." He spoke tenderly, and cautiously brought his hands to rest on her bare shoulders. He looked deeply into her eyes, resisting magical temptation.
"What's that?" She asked, her voice teetering between curiosity and cynicism.
"Your pleasure," he responded softly.
"Oh," she rolled her eyes. "And just how do you plan to do that?"
He smiled widely and lent toward her. He softly whispered "Magic."
This time he did let his power flow. A spell to impress was not the same as a charm; he was not cheating. His vision clouded over with a purple mist, and he let his mind free. A prickling aura of power sprang up around him: Golden, while being invisible, and filled with inaudible harp strings and bells.
Emerald's eyes widened, and she gasped. Jasha reaffirmed his grip on her shoulders, and let the magic fade away.
"Take me home," he begged softly. "It is
your
turn to be pleasured."
A stunned acceptance and a short walk later, he stood in a tiny room. A pile of blankets presumably served as a bed, and there was a curtained-off area that would be for a chamber pot and such. The single, small window let a blazing stream of moonlight in.
"I'm sorry, it's not much," she said, looking embarrassed. He smiled, and took her hands in his.
"It doesn't matter. Close your eyes."
She seemed hesitant, but she did so.
Oh yes,
Jasha mentally purred. His vision filled this time with a washed-out green tint. He directed his power through his hands, into hers, and flooded her body.
She gasped, and he felt her lungs widen, the air rush in through her throat. He steered firmly clear of her mind. Her breasts were slightly bruised, her sex (and yes, her anus) thoroughly used.
"Take your clothes off," he murmured, and she did. When her hands left his, the magic dimmed, but surged back when he put his hands on her bare waist.
No charm necessary.
"This won't hurt," he whispered reassuringly, and let his power drain through her. He ran it over her breasts, healing, caressing. He purged her of all the effects of her trade, soothing and cleansing. Semen, more than he could believe, was expelled slowly down the insides of her thighs, and out between her firm buttocks. Her muscles reflexively clenched against this, but he relaxed them.
He ran his magic around her womb, his healing flowing over her bruised cervix and downwards. He felt out all her tenseness and dissolved it. Her whole sex was limp and open for a moment, then it suddenly snapped back into rolling contractions. Somehow, the release of muscles long held unconsciously clenched had made her orgasm freely.
He let the magic fade away, and realised Emerald was panting, wide-eyed.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Yes," she said in a small voice. He leant in and pecked her soft, full lips.
"Go wash yourself," he said. "Quickly, and come back."
She ducked behind the curtain. He slowly and casually undressed to the sounds of slopping water, then looked out the small window on the night. The full moon illuminated the slum rooftops, lending them a kind of dark, ragged beauty.
The curtain swished aside and revealed Emerald's indistinct figure to his sight for the first time. He cursed himself for ruining his night-vision and stepped back into the darkness. She walked slowly towards him. His adjusting eyes and the closeness finally made her visible.
Even though he'd already been deeply inside her, this was the first time he'd really seen her nudity with his eyes. She was almost as tall as him, her hair brown and reaching only to her chin. He stared in lust at her small, round breasts and at her smooth labia.
He saw green for another moment as he settled a pleasure spell around her. This was almost cheating, for he was changing what she would feel. But, he reasoned, it was really only manipulating her body, not her mind.
