The Wizard of Shark Island
The Wizard of Shark Island
is a story that had been kicking around in my head for a very long time, based as it is on a D&D game I played in the far distant past, with an evil wizard taking the party hostage and threatening to kill them all unless the attractive female character (the one I happened to be running at the time) gives herself up to his pleasure. Yeah, we were adolescents and things like that were our meat and potatoes. Anyway, the lustful wizard was frustrated and all ended well.
So I thought it would make a great Wulf tale. I started on this one several years ago and set it aside when the Wulf website went down and various other personal matters intervened. I stepped in and finished it recently and now here it is, complete for the first time ever.
In this story I've teamed Wulf up with another woman who doesn't take any crap, in the person of the Vendayan sailor Sunita. Vendayans look like folks from southern Asia, by the way -- a pleasant combination of Indian, Afghan, Pakistani and Burmese. And Sunita's something new -- her relationship with Wulf is a bit different from what you've probably come to expect.
The urge to have Sula Khan say "I put on my wizard hat" was almost uncontrollable, but at length I managed to resist it. Mind you, it was a real struggle.
And oh yeah -- the way I've got this formatted, there's very little sex in Part I. My profuse apologies for that, folks. As parts II and III feature a nifty minotaur orgy and a threesome with two fae sisters, I hope that makes it up to you, so bear with me and enjoy.
I
There was a time when I wanted to be a wizard. I had visions of myself discovering ancient secrets in distant towers, of casting mighty spells and binding daemons to my will. I was going to be quite the mage -- empires would crumble at my touch, and kings would tremble to hear my name.
In reality, of course, my life as a student at the academy consisted of days and nights of mind-numbing studies, poring over ancient books in endless libraries, listening to lectures from wizened old codgers who hadn't cast a spell in anger for decades, hanging out with other students from my dorm. Nothing truly interesting happened -- no giant snakes, no ancient slain sorcerers swearing vengeance on me, no friendly ghosts or protective professors, no exciting sports -- none of that stuff that people expect after reading those damned White Empire novels about boy wizards and flying broomsticks that were all the rage until the author turned out to be a child molester.
I was a mediocre student at best; when I was finally expelled after my unfortunate accident (the one that destroyed most of the alchemy wing), it was more of a relief than anything else. Of course, that led to my current life as a wandering freelance adventurer, and I've never stopped complaining about it since... Gods only know what might have happened had I stayed and become a good little wizard.
Well, that's all in the past now and what's done is done. I bring it up only because I just want you to know that I've had a small amount of experience with wizards, and I've got nothing against them personally. Most are fine chaps, to be sure, but there are always exceptions -- the desire for arcane power, coupled with tolerance for long, dull stretches of study in dusty ancient chambers and an intense egotistical streak often combine to dire consequences.
Case in point, the perverse wizard we ran into while sailing on the Skate one lovely spring. We were sailing south, bound for...
Oh, wait a moment... I suppose introductions are in order, aren't they? I'm Wulf, as many of you already know, and this particular incident took place while I was sailing the Inner Sea with my companions Livia and Narisha -- sorceress and crimson-skinned demoness respectively. Our ship was the Skate, and I suppose in those days our lives consisted largely of wandering around seeing what kind of trouble we could get into.
Livia was a human of sorts -- here pale blonde hair, rich blue eyes and freckled, smiling face bespeaking sunlight and innocence. Having been her lover for a couple of years now I knew better, especially since we both enjoyed carnal relations of the Skate's third owner, Narisha.
Now, Narisha was yet another story. She was the daughter of an especially notorious demon warlord, and was with us as something of an exile. She was a strapping, voluptuous creature with bloody crimson flesh, rich blue-black hair, lovely curling horns, a sinuous tail, pure white fangs and a temperament to match. An alluring combination of cruelty and tenderness, of love and lust. And I don't think that she could have loved only one partner if she'd tried. But I could have said the same about Livia, so in general I just kept my head down and hoped they didn't wreck too much havoc between them.
I just sighed and accepted it. After all, I had Livia and I had Narisha (often both at once) and if they caused me aggravation -- which they did on very, very rare occasions -- I suppose it was all worth it in the end.
Or was it?
I thought, gazing out across the sun-dappled sea and wondering where the hell they were.
I didn't have too long to wait this afternoon, for almost as if I'd summoned them, a pair of slick and gleaming sea otters scrambled up the side of the ship and tumbled to the deck a few feet away, mock-wrestling and play-biting like hyperactive puppies. As I watched, my amusement growing along with certain other sensations, the two sea-creatures changed, their fur vanishing, their legs elongating, tails shortening, then vanishing altogether, faces transforming into human (or at least human-like) visages, long hair sprouting, until they had fully transformed into two naked female bodies -- one pale and lithe, the other crimson and firmly muscular.
Yes, it was them all right. Still sopping from cavorting in the sea, their bodies glistened with water droplets, their hair was plastered to their skin, and yet they continued to frolic and grapple as if they were still playful otters. I slowly sat down on the deck, my back against the railing, content to watch and not about to stop them.
In earlier days I'd never been much of a voyeur, but given the number of times that I'd watched Livia being ravished while hiding in the closet, watching on a viewing crystal or while tied in a chair (that's another story I haven't told yet), I'd grown at least accustomed to it. And besides, the girls seemed to enjoy being watched.
I took some comfort that the Skate's afterdeck had been covered with a canvas shade, effectively hiding it from the rest of the crew. Not that Liv and Narisha would have minded letting the crewfolk watch them at play -- I was more concerned about them neglecting their duties and slamming us into a reef or down the throat of a leviathan while distracted. Off duty, they were free to watch whatever they wanted. I was willing to bet a dozen crowns that at least one of them had figured out how to spy on my cabin when the three of us were going at it, in fact. And if he did, more power to him, I suppose.
They tumbled to the deck, lips locked together, hands darting across the gleaming flesh of each other's thighs and buttocks. Livia rolled on top and slid up Narisha's body, wet skin sliding against wet skin, thrusting her breasts into the demon woman's face.
"Mmmm, lovely," Narisha sighed, rubbing her face between them, pressing them together with her hands. Her fangs nipped at Livia's pink nipples, and as I watched they began to stiffen, accompanied by the music of Livia's sighs.
Livia twined her fingers in Narisha's matted black hair, seizing a handful and pressing the demon's face even harder against her.
"That's it," she whispered. "Right there. Bite me, love. Bite... Ahhh!"
