Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Murder Isle - Part One - by Mack the Knife

   Siska had been a slave her entire short life.

   She did not so much mind being a slave, as she was reasonably
well-treated by her mistress, a woman of great age and substantial power in
Tressen.  However, as in all good things, that came to an end.  Tomana, the
matron who had owned her, had died.  The inheritor of her properties was a
son of Tomana's brother, and a Ghantian merchant who had little interest in
owning a small estate in Tressen.  He simply wished to liquidate the
properties she held and add the resulting windfall to his already
impressive assets.  Ghantian law did not allow slavery, per se, and it
never occurred to the man, whose name was Rendalo, that such 'human goods'
might be part of the estate, and he allowed a local agent to conduct the
liquidation for a small commission.

   Siska was such an asset.

   It was only a few weeks after her eighteenth birthday when she was
dragged before the mob at the corner market.  She was standing high on a
wooden scaffold, and wearing only her gray tunic and cloth shoes covering
her feet.  This was the normal uniform of slaves, though Tomana had allowed
her slaves to dress as they liked.

   Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized that her days of relative
happiness were over.

   Jeers rolled up from the crowd and comments made that she truly did not
understand.  Her blank expression to the taunts caused the men in the crowd
to suddenly become more excited than before.  Siska was not clueless about
men and women, there had been both male and female servants in Tomana's
home.  But she had not been owned by a man, and none of the boys in the
estate were near her age.

   Her face flushed with more tears as she realized that most of what the
men were screaming about was sexual in nature, and her buyer would likely
use her harshly for their pleasure.  Another slave, a fairly recent
acquisition by the household, from outside, leaned toward her and whispered
into her ear.

   "Pray to the One that one of the brothel madams does not buy you."

   She looked around.  "Which are they?" she asked.

   The man said, "The ones with the red hats." He jerked his chin toward a
small knot of middle-aged women in overly-ornate finery with large red hats
with red feathers in them.  Unlike the men, those women were regarding her
with cold, calculating eyes.

   Suddenly, she wished to be bought by a man.

   The crowd worked itself into a frenzy as slaves did not come up for
auction often, and for over a dozen to be brought up at one time was almost
unheard of these days.  This brought out all sorts of people, from peasants
just to watch the show, to the wealthiest men and women on the island to
see if they wished to add to their own 'stable'.  Siska was near the rear
end of the line, along with two other young women, one older by a year, one
younger by two.  They were followed by what the slave auctioneer called
'dregs.' Old men and women, and very young children who were not yet fit
for much work.

   She watched in horror as people she had known her entire life were sold
off to strangers and led off the platform.  Her mother, and her brother,
Bartal.  The kindly man who ran the stables of Tomana's household, Pacher,
and all the young men, in their twenties, who had been her mentors in
worldly things.  Apparently, they had not taught her some of the things she
would soon need to know, however.

   The other two girls were before her, and she silently cried as the older
one, named Renna, and the younger, Pamela, were bought by the brothels.  It
was her turn.

   She stood to the fore, at the goading of the handlers.  Siska was tall
and slim, with a very nice figure, though perhaps skinny by some men's
tastes.  The men in the crowd suddenly started screaming with renewed
vigor. Siska had never thought much about her appearance.  The reaction of
the men led her to think she must be somewhat attractive, else their
excitement was not to be understood.  Comments from the front row about her
long golden hair, and her fair, smooth skin seemed to generate titters
among the less bawdy of the auction attendees.  She even heard comments
regarding her startling violet eyes.

   As she stood, the bidding began the Brothels quickly outbid all other
contestants for her ownership, and then they began to bid among each other.
She was rather startled, after hearing the prices that others had fetched.
Her brother, for example, had brought only two-hundred marks of silver, and
her mother only one hundred.

   As one, particularly fat, mistress screeched out seven hundred and
fifty, Siska realized she was doomed from this day forth, to be a whore. 
Then, somewhere in the back of the crowd she heard a voice, a male voice,
shout, "One thousand."

   The crowd gave a collective gasp and all eyes turned to face the source,
including Siska's own.  It was a man in blue robes, wearing a green sash.
The fat mistress screeched out fifteen hundred, her voice shrill, like a
harpy's wail.  Siska's heart, already low, sank further.

   The man stepped forward and the crowd parted before him like he was the
prow on a ship.  He eyed the fat mistress, then looked up at Siska.  "Three
thousands," he said in a quiet voice.

   The crowd gasped again and looked toward the mistresses in their little
knot.  The fat one threw up her hands in frustration and stormed out of the
crowd, leaving a wake of jostled people behind her.  The auctioneer
chuckled in Siska's ear.  "You just made my year, girl," he said, and
pressed two silver coins into her palm.  "I always reward the high earners,
it brings me luck." She cupped her hand around the coins and looked at them
briefly, they were full mark coins, she closed her fingers over them and
kept them closed.

   The man walked behind the scaffold and papers were signed and a large
sack of money changed hands, with many handshakes and nods among the men
back there.  A large seal was pressed onto a document and it was handed to
the man in the robes.  She went to him and stood behind him quietly, as she
had been instructed to do by the handlers.  She wore no manacles, nor
hobbles, slaves on Murder Isle had no where to run, except into the slums,
which were more dangerous than any owner's home.

   The man looked at her, up close now.  He was not as old as she had
supposed, only perhaps thirty-five.  But his face was careworn and he had
deep knowledge behind those eyes.  She realized she was regarding a wizard,
he seemed to glow faintly.

   He looked at her carefully.  "Come," he said, and did not look back
toward her as he walked through the milling crowd.  The filthy streets
soiled her cloth shoes instantly as he led her down several roads, and
around a few large warehouses.  They were leaving the heart of the city,
and the buildings were becoming more spread out, with actual yards about
them.  Finally, he turned onto a small lot where a well-built but small
home was sitting among a few large, gnarled trees.  The night was
descending fast, and the auroras of the dark sky were beginning their dance
among the stars.  She stopped and regarded the nightly show, which still
amazed her every time she saw it.

   The man stopped as well, and watched her, then followed her gaze.  "You
see the colors don't you?" he asked.

   She blinked and turned to face him.  "Yes, master, of course I do," she
replied, smiling.

   He nodded.  "You know most people only see white, don't you?"

   "I know no one else seemed as interested in them as I, master," she
said, turning her eyes up to the coruscating curtain of light.  "Only my
mother said anything about the colors."

   A tiny smile broke the man's stoic expression.  "I may yet buy your
mother, though she is too old to begin now."

   Siska looked at him.  "Begin, master?" she asked.

   He nodded.  "I bought you for a reason, Siska," he said.  "And not the
reason you believe now." She felt his eyes roam over her form in the skimpy
slave's slip.  "Though that reason would have been well worth my money."

   Blushing deeply, she tried to not smile at his forwardness.  "Master, I
need not compliments, as I am yours to do with what you wish."

   "Believe me, that thought is ever present in my mind," he murmured. 
"But, I would be remiss in my duties to my profession if I were to relegate
you to such a fate." He touched a pendant on a chain about his neck.  It
was a small dragon, with tiny diamonds winking from its eyes.  It appeared
to be in flight, with a loop of the tail serving as a place for the chain
to hold it.

   Siska then looked up into his brown eyes.  "I assumed you were a wizard,
master," she said.  "You glow like one."

   With a resonant chuckle, he opened the door to the little house.  "I
surely am that," he said.  "As are you, beautiful Siska."

   She stared after him as he walked into the darkened house.  "Come in,
please," he said, though it sounded more like an invitation than a command.
Following him in, she noted that he was uncovering a light-stone.  The
mistress had many of them in her home, even the slaves each had their own
for navigating the manor at night.  They had been taken from them, however
and sold off with the other assets.

   She looked about the cluttered room.  It was a common room, and nicely
appointed.  However, it was in a state of major disarray.  Books were piled
on nearly every horizontal surface, floors, tables, and even in some of the
chairs.  Loose papers also intermingled with these books, and large piles
of them were scattered about the room.

   Unable to resist, she said, "It seems you need me more than you think,
master."

   He smiled broadly, watching her look around the overfilled room. 
"Indeed," he said, his face quite serious.  "That will be your first task
as my apprentice, to put my notes and books in order."

   She froze solid for a moment.  "A ...  Apprentice?" she gasped, the word
coming out almost like a sneeze.  "You bought me to become your
apprentice?" she finally added, her voice quavering with excitement and not
a little fear.

   "Of course," he said.  "You did not think me so lonely that I would pay
three thousand marks for a girl, no matter her beauty, simply to be able to
bed her, did you?"

   She blushed again, this time not for the compliment, but for her feeling
of foolishness.

   He saw her chagrined look and said, "I would have paid much just for
your touch.  But for your mind, I would have paid thrice the price I did."

   "Master, how can I be so valuable.  I am just a girl of sixteen and not
even lettered," she said.  "Surely you could easily get a slave-scribe for
much less."

   He sat in one of the chairs that was not being used to store books and
papers.  "A scribe, yes," he answered.  "But a person with the potential to
become a powerful wizard, no.  Believe me, Siska, you have that potential.
You could become greater than I, and I am powerful." He twitched two
fingers toward her and she felt herself lifted from the floor by unseen
hands, her feet dangled in the air over the carpeted floor.  She floated
toward him slowly, bobbing slightly as he regarded her.

   "Master, please stop, you're scaring me," she said, her voice full of
panic.

   He grinned maliciously.  "Make me," he said.  "Use you mind to stop me."

   She looked at him curiously for a moment, then closed her terrified
eyes. Her brow furrowed in concentration.  Then she opened them.  "I
cannot, master," she said.

   One of her cloth shoes was ripped apart off her foot, falling to the
floor in burlap tatters, she watched as the other was destroyed in the same
way.  She gasped when the cloth covering her slender body began to rip
asunder beginning at the 'v' of her neck.  He was stripping her with magic,
rending her clothes asunder.  She closed her eyes again and this time she
felt it, she opened them and saw it, a shimmering white line, extending
from his fingertips to her, and surrounding her, growing denser at the
front of her dress.  The tear progressed, almost down to her stomach, and
her well-shaped breasts were exposed nearly to their nipples.  She reached
down with her hands and grabbed the denser shimmering stuff and pulled.  It
resisted her arms, and she grunted as she tried again, straining with both
body and mind to get the glowing material away from her dress, which was
now ripped wide open down to her navel and her breasts were fully exposed.
With that second pull, the stuff came loose, disintegrating as it left her,
and the rest followed, shredding and turning into wisp-like vapor then
diminishing into nothingness, like smoke.  She fell to the floor, nearly
collapsing, but managing to get her balance.  She looked at him with wide,
angry eyes.  "You did not have to destroy what clothing I still have,
master," she said, her voice accusing and full of venom.  "I will remove
them at your command." She paused a long moment.  "Or is that what you
wish? For me to be naked before you at all times?"

   He blinked at the vitriol that she was exuding toward him.  A smile
crossed his features again.  "Good.  Get angry, Siska," he said.  "But,
before you hate me, think on what you just did."

   She stopped her tirade a moment and looked down at her hands, still
trembling from her anger and the test of strength she had just given them.
"I stripped your spell from me before it could strip my clothes," she said,
still looking angry, but with a hint of confusion.

   "Indeed you did," he said.  "And how many people could have done that,
do you think?"

   She swallowed hard.  "Few?" she ventured, though it was more a question
itself than an answer.  She pulled her tunic closed over her exposed
breasts and tried to prevent the tears that were welling in her violet
eyes, but they rolled down her cheeks.

   Again, the wizard nodded.  "Few.  Yes," he said.  "Very few.  Perhaps
one in a thousand could have tried.  One in a million could have done it.
Most would not have even seen the filaments of mana that connected us." He
paused a moment.  "As far as your tattered garments, I would not concern
myself with them, apprentice.  You will be receiving more appropriate
attire come the morning."

   The chair squeaked slightly as he pushed up off of it.  "For now,
however, you will provide me a service I have not had in months from a
woman."

   Her eyes instantly dropped, and her face flushed again.  "Of course,
master." She said, her voice had a tinge of deadness to it, like she was
sending her mind elsewhere for this odious task that was going to be
pressed to her.  She shrugged, and the tunic slipped from her shoulders,
exposing her slim figure fully to him.

   His eyes went wide at her nude form, and he looked openly at the curve
of her hips, and the small, dark patch between her legs, then tracked up
over the flat stomach and the gentle swells of her breasts.

   "I am ready, master," she said, locking his eyes with her violet gaze.
"I only beg that you proceed gently, for I am a maiden."

   His eyes widened.  "By the One," he whispered.  "Not that I can see how
you managed that feat with a fine body such as you have."

   She actually smiled at that compliment.  "I am grateful for your kind
words, master," she said.  "But, as I said, they are unnecessary."

   With a slow nod, he pointed toward a door to a room behind the common
room, not up the upward stairs that lay on the left wall.  "But, I was
going to have you make me dinner," he said, with an almost pitiable look on
his stunned face.  "I would have a freely given meal over forced
love-play."

   She stared at him blankly for a moment, then broke into laughter.  "You
wish me to cook?" she said, and laughed again.  "That is all?" Her giggles
filled the room as she knelt and picked up her fallen garment.  "I beg
forgiveness, master, for assuming your desires."

   He nodded.  "You are more than forgiven, sweet Siska," he said.  "For
part of me certainly desires what you just offered."

   Her eyes flickered over his lower half, and his robes did seem to hang
oddly just under his belt.  She bit her cheek to stop herself smiling, and
had to force herself not to widen her eyes.  Though far from being an
expert on such matters, if the distance his robes were protruding from his
body was any indicator, then he was endowed very well.  A thought that both
thrilled and frightened her.

   She hitched the tunic over her shoulders, and watched in amaze as he
walked to her, and touched the edge of the torn cloth and pulled his finger
up the rent.  Behind this digit, the cloth formed itself whole again.  His
finger pulled back, and her tunic was mended completely.

   "Now, my dinner." He said, trying, with limited success, to sound like
he was demanding it, though she felt he was still asking.

   Proceeding him into the kitchen, she found it well stocked, if somewhat
in need of tidying up.  Half an hour later, she was cooking and found
herself whistling as she prepared a stew.  The wizard had left the kitchen
in her capable hands and had wandered back into the common room.  His spice
rack daunted her, and she only recognized perhaps a quarter of the various
spices within their little glass vials.  She used them sparingly, recalling
the admonition of her mother about wizards: 'Wizards are odd birds.  Be
careful around them.  They like to keep dangerous stuff about.' At the
time, a wizard was calling on their mistress, and Siska had been eleven. 
The man had been reasonably kind to her, but her mother was frightened
every time Siska had to clean his chambers.  While she was alone in the
Kitchen, she took the two coins from her dress hem, which she had secreted
them into.  Now she hid them among the spice jars, behind two of the little
vials.

   Soon after the stew was boiling, the wizard returned, carrying a pale
blue bundle of cloth.  Siska watched him approach with an air of curiosity
in her expression.

   "Here, Siska," he said.  "You are a slave no longer." He held out the
bundle and took hold of it at two points, letting the rest fall from his
fingers.  It was a long robe, made of what looked to be silk, like his own.
"I will register your freedom on the morrow with the city."

   Her eyes were huge and stunned-looking.  "Master?" she asked.  "Please,
do not jest in this matter."

   He grinned widely.  "I do not," he said.  "Get those slave's garments
gone and don this."

   With what seemed to be supernatural speed, she had shed the burlap
slave's tunic and was slipping the silken robes over her body.  He was
amazed at how casually she unclad herself before him, but realized that
slaves probably lost their sense of humility early in their lives.

   When her head poked out of the neck of the robe, she was beaming.  This
made her already pretty face almost unbearably beautiful.  "Thank you . . .
master?" she said.

   The wizard chuckled.  "Phillip," he said.  "Phillip Namen."

   She blinked a few times.  "Thank you, Phillip?" she said.  Not sure even
that was correct.

   He grinned wider and kept chuckling.  "The proper form of address to a
teacher for an apprentice such as yourself is mentor," he said.  "But I
think you have had enough of such mandatory titles thrust upon you, and it
is not far from master to mentor.  You will call me Phillip, or, if you
wish, Namen.  I answer to both." He thought a moment.  "However, in
company, unless I tell you otherwise, please use mentor."

   She smiled brightly.  "Of course, Phillip," said Siska.  She was ladling
out the stew, and the wizard's stomach reported loudly at the smell of it.
"Are you ready to eat?"

   He grinned and patted his belly.  "More than," he said, taking his bowl
from her.  "I'm famished, and that smells wonderful."

   She served herself a bowl and followed him to the little table in the
corner, which she had to clear to make room for them to eat.  They sat and
began eating the stew, which was indeed very good.

   "You really intend to free me?" she said.  "After paying such a huge
price for me?"

   He nodded and said, "Yes." Then he looked up at her.  "But there is a
caveat." He held up a single finger.  "If you don't remain my apprentice,
you will revert to being a slave.  Once your apprenticeship is over, and
you are accepted by the Brotherhood, you are free of even that limitation.
Believe me, this once, if no other time, it is for your own good that you
complete your apprenticeship."

   "I think I understand," she said.  "It will be hard?"

   "Very," he replied between slurps of the hearty stew.  "You will think
me a cruel bastard for some of what I will put you through in the next few
years."

   Her eyes grew dark, almost turning black from their normal violet.  "I
was nearly bought by a whorehouse," she murmured.  "My two girlfriends
were. Believe me, nothing you do to me will compare to the hell they are
going through right now."

   "You think that now," He said with a nod.  "We will see, though I
daresay that you will not find your life so bad when you are done.  Magic
is a subtle and powerful thing, and it will have its fee of you." He looked
down at her neck, so slender and long.  "It will mark your body and mind
before you are done."

   A cold chill wormed its way down her spine as he spoke those words. 
"Phillip, what has it done to you?" she asked.  Her voice was full of
concern and a tiny portion of pity, from what he heard.

   "You wish to see?" he asked, chuckling.  "Are you sure of that?"

   She nodded slowly.  "I would know what is in store for me," she said,
her eyes wide.

   He took another bite of the stew and stood up, his chair squeaking on
the stones of the floor.  "Very well, but remember, you asked," he said.

   He started to lift his robe from himself.  She watched as his legs came
into view, long, slender things, almost like a woman's legs, but with more
muscle than most females sported.  As it slipped over his hips her eyes
were automatically drawn to his hanging manhood.  She had seen a few
others, from time to time, but his was, well, different.

   It was larger, as she had suspected, and hung downward in a gentle arc
from his pelvis, like he was half aroused already.  As she stared, it
started to straighten, and grow longer.  Under the long, thick tumescence
hung two massive testicles in their loose sack, each looked almost as large
as her small fist.

   Her eyes went to his stomach, a little looser than a young working man,
but far from fat, then his chest, which bore marks that looked like claws
had laid him open at some time in his past.  The robe finally came off over
his head and he stood before her nude, holding the robe in one hand.

   His cock was fully erect now, and stood forth long and thick and, in her
mind, quite impressively.  The foreskin had been removed, circumcised, she
believed it was called, and the bulbous head stood forth, darkening to
almost red.  She pried her eyes from his organ and looked at his chest. 
"Are those claw marks part of it?" she asked.

   "Yes.  And my manhood, too," he said.

   She looked back down.  "While very large, your manhood looks normal,"
she said.

   "Some of the marks are not bad," he said.  "Thought the claw marks
sometimes reopen and cause me great pains."

   Siska regarded him again.  "What will happen to me?" she asked.

   "One cannot say, perhaps only something minor," he said.  "Or perhaps
something catastrophic." He regarded her a long moment.  "You're body is
lovely.  I hope nothing bad happens to it."

   He slipped his robe back on and they finished dinner.  Three bowls of
stew seemed to finally fill his empty belly and he leaned back in his chair
pronouncing the meal excellent.

   "It grows late, however, Siska," he said, and rose from his chair. 
"Come."

   She followed him and he led her up the stairs.  He opened a door at the
top of the stairs, to the left of the hall leading to more rooms there. 
"This room is yours," he said.

   She stepped inside then turned about.  "Phillip?" she asked, her voice
very soft.

   He turned.  "Yes?" He asked.

   "You're really going to free me tomorrow?" she asked, he noted that her
violet eyes would not meet his.

   He nodded and said, "Yes, Siska, I'm going to free you tomorrow."

   With startling speed, she grabbed his neck and hugged herself to him. 
Her long body pressed to his and he felt moisture on his neck as she
pressed her face to him.  "Thank you, Phillip!" she said into his neck and
chest.  "I cannot say how grateful I will be."

   He grinned and patted her back.  "You are most welcome, Siska."

   Lightning arced through his body as she kissed his neck, her soft lips
moist and warm.  She kissed his neck again, just beneath his ear, then
kissed his ear, itself, allowing her tongue to first lap at it slightly.

   His cock twitched in his robe, growing erect very quickly.

   He was stunned at how good her kisses felt, and appalled at himself for
becoming so aroused at her simple show of gratitude.

   She felt his erection growing against her belly and looked up at him. 
"I am still yours for this night," she said.  Her eyes were burning into
his and he could feel the heat from her body in his arms, and through his
robes.  "You own me, if you wish to command something of me."

   Her expression was screaming that she wanted him to command something.
His mind was spinning out of control at the thought, and that she wanted
him to do so.  Her show of gratitude was not even begun, he realized. 
"Um," he said, thoughtfully.

   She smiled slightly.  "Please command me, master," she said.

   His will crumbled like a wall made of bread.  "Oh One, defend me," he
whispered as he looked down into her piercing violet eyes.  She kissed him,
full on, and he felt her tongue forcing its way past his lips.  When he
parted them, she slid her tongue deep into his mouth and stroked his
tongue, as well.

   He looked at her after the kiss broke.  "You are sure of this?" he
asked.

   She angled her head down and peered upward at him.  "I am a slave,
master, I am sure of only what you command," she said, quite obviously
vamping him.  "I seek only to please my master, in whatever ways he
commands me."

   His organ twitched again with those remarks and he pointed down the
hallway.  "That is my room, go await me there," he finally managed to
stammer out.

   She immediately turned and walked down the hall and opened the indicated
door and entered.  She walked into the larger room a couple of steps then
turned and faced the door, then sunk to her knees, pulling the robe over
her head as she did so.

   His breathing was harsh in his ears and his heart felt like it was
trying to signal another island with its deafening thuds.  She cast her
eyes to the floor and gripped her ankles behind her with both hands,
forcing her long body to tense and arch outward.

   Slowly he walked to the room, and looked down upon her kneeling form. 
"By the One you are gorgeous," he said.

   She smiled and said, "Thank you master, you are too kind." Her violet
eyes never left the floor before her bare knees.

   He took his own robe off, now, and stood before her.  "You will do
anything I ask?" he asked.

   She nodded toward the floor.  "Yes, master, anything you command."

   He gulped again, sending his adam's apple bobbing.  "Do you know how to
mouth a man's organ?" he asked.

   "Generally speaking, master," she said.  "I have heard it described."

   He wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow and looked down at the
magnificent creature with the golden hair kneeling before him, ready to do
his bidding.  "Then do so," he finally said.

   Without even a hint of hesitation, she moved forward and gripped the
base of his cock, her fingers wrapped around it tightly, causing him to
gasp at her strength.  She pointed it forward and, for all intents, impaled
her head upon it, forcing over half his length down her throat in one
smooth motion, until her throat protested, and she gagged a little.

   He watched her swallow, and force back her bile, then rammed her mouth
forward again, taking it even deeper, then deeper.  Each time she paused
and composed herself, keeping her reflexes in check by sheer force of will.
"You're sure you've never don this before?" he asked, felling his testicles
draw up in anticipation of a massive release.

   She shook her head, a severely abbreviated motion with over two thirds
of his manhood down her throat.  Again she forced herself forward, then
again.  The sound of her breathing had become labored, as she had to force
the air around his organ intruding upon her throat.  Finally, she lunged
forward one last time, taking him to the root, moving her hand from him,
and burrowing her nose into his thick patch of dark pubic hair.  His
quickly tightening testicles slid along her smooth chin as her tongue
slipped out and over them and under the root of his pole.

   He grunted as she tightened her throat around his cock and he could feel
it contract in protest to this intrusion.  "How are you not gagging?" he
murmured.

   She shrugged, and looked up at him, as if waiting for something, her jaw
opened wide to accommodate his thick pole.  Finally, she grabbed his hips
and started moving them back.  Then pulled them up to her again.  He got
the meaning quickly, and started to piston himself into her mouth, mounting
her mouth, as it were.  She took his hands and put them on her
golden-haired head.  He immediately interlaced the fingers with her long
tresses and began to hump with more energy, realizing she was more than
inviting him to.

   Long moments he pounded his organ into her violated throat, and she
moaned with each entry.  He moaned as well, then finally began to grunt as
his climax neared.

   With a massive shudder throughout his body, he began to release himself
into her waiting throat and the semen shot directly down her open gullet.
After several seemingly mighty jets of semen, he felt the waves of pleasure
subside and looked down again.  Her eyes were still staring intently up at
him.  He was pulling her hair hard now, and realized that he had fucked her
mouth quite enthusiastically there for a long moment.  He let her hair go
and pulled back, until his organ came free of her sucking lips with a pop.

   "Sorry if I hurt you, Siska," he said, regarding her open mouth and
smouldering eyes.

   She smiled up at him.  "You did not hurt me, master," she said, again
adopting the pose of submission before him again.

   "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked.

   "My cousin, one of the others sold today, told me how," replied Siska.
She did it quite often, from what I heard.  She was still gazing at the
floor before her knees.

   "Enough of that," said Phillip.  "If you would lie with me, do so as an
equal."

   She blinked up at him then stood, putting her arms about his chest.  "I
would," she said, then kissed him.

   They kissed for long moments, their bodies tight to one another.  At
some point, his prick swelled to life again, pressing against her belly. 
She moved a hand to stroke it and heard him gasp as her cool fingers
wrapped about the thick shaft.

   "This is the only time, Siska," he said, his voice sounding weak and
distant.  "It is improper for a mentor to have relations of this type with
a student."

   Her soft lips were brushing over his shoulder and chest.  "I understand,
Phillip," she said.  "Afterward?" she asked after a moment of silence.

   "Of course, afterward, when you are a wizard, the rules you make are
your own," he said.

   She urged him toward the bed.  "Then let us make good use of this
night," she said.

   The two tumbled into the large, unkempt bed and rolled through the soft
coverlets, entangling themselves with it and one another.  Phillip wound up
atop her and looked down at her slight body as he pressed his against it.

   "You're a virgin, you said?" he asked.

   Siska nodded slowly and turned her eyes toward the wall, suddenly rather
uncomfortable with that idea.

   "We don't have to," said Phillip.  "If you wish to stop now."

   Her violet eyes flicked back to him.  "No," she said hurriedly.  "That's
not why I looked away, mas - Phillip."

   "Why then?" asked Phillip, lifting his upper body from hers and peering
down at her.

   "My friends," she said, simply.  "They are also losing their innocence
this night, but probably not so tenderly."

   Phillip lifted himself off her and sat back.  "Then we can stop," he
said, not sounding even a little upset.  "I don't wish to make you regret
anything."

   She sat up as well.  "No," she said, "I promised."

   Phillip pulled a piece of the coverlet over his bobbing erection.  "No,
dear, not that way."

   "But you said, if not tonight. . ." she let the sentence drift off.

   "I know," replied the wizard.  "And I'll likely kick myself in the arse
about this for months.  Please go to bed Siska.  We'll speak on the
morrow."

   Siska slouched off the bed and gathered her robes.  "I'm sorry,
Phillip," she murmured.

   "It's fine, Siska," he replied, smiling gamely.

   As she pressed the door shut behind her, she surveyed her little
bedroom. It held a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.  However, the thing that
caught her eye the most was a small cabinet fastened to the wall with
glass-paneled doors.  Within were many small objects.  She walked over to
it and looked at the assorted items.

   There was a simple, scarred wooden box, perhaps just large enough to put
a knife in.  Next to that was a cracked monocle, still hanging from a peg
in the back by a long silver chain.

   She noted all the metal inside this little cabinet was silver.  She had
heard that silver is the metal of magic and wondered for a moment if these
items were magical.

   They glowed with a faint blue light.  Was that proof they were magicked?
She decided to ask Phillip on the morrow.