A Little Magical Proposition

The first time a man tried to proposition Yelena in the tavern, it was a local who should have known better and she tried to let him off with a warning. When that didn't work, she threatened to break his wrist, but she did it quietly and secretively so he could retreat without losing too much face, which shouldn't have been her problem but stopped him making it a bigger problem.

The second time a man tried to proposition Yelena, he was a drunken traveller and she had less temper, so she went straight to threatening to break his wrist, twisting it until his elbow slammed into the bar hard enough to deaden his entire arm.

The third time she felt a hand grab her arm, her fist only stopped an inch from the man's throat because she recognised the face trying -- ineffectually -- to jerk back in shock.

"Damien?!"

"Yelena!" Damien gasped.

"When the fuck did you get back?"

She threw her arms around him, which made him flinch away before he rallied to return the hug.

"I am now a Master of the Arcane Arts," he said grandly, flourishing one arm, when they were seated at a table against one wall with a flagon of cider each.

"Aha," she said, letting her cynicism show as her gaze roamed over his stubbly face and sturdy, drab, travelling clothes.

He shrugged, unabashed. "Well, I'm a Journeyman of the College," he said. "But I have passed all my tests, graduated from my position as apprentice, and am now officially a Journeyman, allowed to wander freely without supervision."

"So, leaving for the Academy wasn't just an attempt to try and impress me?"

He looked hurt. "No, that was just a handy bonus."

She laughed. "It would only have been a bonus if I had actually been impressed, Damien."

"True, but you kept fucking me, so that was good enough."

"I kept waiting for you to impress me," she said before taking a swig of cider.

He appeared unperturbed by her dig. "You enjoyed yourself."

"Well, there wasn't really a better option, was there?"

"Is there now?"

She grimaced and shook her head. "I spend most of my time in the forest now, anyway, checking my traps and seeking out deer or small boars. I'm making a good living off meat and skins, but selling and buying is the only reason I come back into town these days. If I could stay out four or five days and just collect skins, all the better. There are others who live out here, but we don't really have the right relationship. It's been me and my hand, most nights. Occasionally a traveller, but most of them are too old, too young or too full of themselves. Then, when I come into town, people forget I have standards and I usually have to hurt someone."

"You need more Journeyman Mages," Damien said.

Yelena raised one eyebrow with glacial slowness.

Damien crossed his arms on the table and leaned on them. "Look, Yelena, I remember how I could always make you come but you were never really satisfied."

"Funny, I remember you being more self-confident than that," she murmured.

He shrugged and sat back. "It's true, though. I could never go long enough for you."

"One of us was fit," she said. "Not my fault you spent all your time in books and couldn't last."

"Pretty sure it was your fault I couldn't last, you always got impatient while I was happy to keep playing with your sweet cunt," he said.

"Oh, it's 'playing' now, is it? And are you trying to tell me you've got a body under those clothes, now?" She looked him up and down, craning slightly to see more of him past the table.

He grinned. "Well, I have been doing a lot of walking, and I did train in using this staff for fighting, so I've got more body than I used to. And more practice with other things."

"College takes girls too?" she shot back instantly.

"Always has. You're not the last woman I had sex with, just the first. You're not even one of the last five."

"Is the boasting intended to help?"

He smiled as he leaned forwards again. "It's intended to say I've been practising. And I've got more skills available to me, now. I'm a Journeyman, after all."

Yelena stared at him. "Are you telling me you use magic for sex?"

Damien grandly waved one hand, making fire briefly dance along his fingertips for a second. "Magic can do many things for us -- and to us."

"You can keep that away from me," she retorted, pointing at his flames.

He laughed. "Merely a demonstration. There were many of us who did... extracurricular studies in how to use magic to play with each other. I developed certain skills."

"Is that a branch of magic? Can you find ancient experts who have devoted their lives..." she began.

He laughed. "No, merely an application. It uses elements of healing magic, elements of manipulation... even elements of combat magic."

"What?!"

"You can use a sword to skin a deer or carve a door-handle," he pointed out.

"Not by first choice!"

He shrugged. "There are many applications of magic. Most of them are quite flexible if you have... a certain disposition. And a lot of practice, of course," he finished with a grin.

Yelena stared at him, then grinned. "Alright, You've got me. Promise me you won't hurt me, and you can show me just what you've learned playing with other girls' 'sweet cunts', Journeyman."

Damien smirked. "Oh, you won't be hurt, and you won't regret it. Do you have a house?"

"Or do I just live in the forest, do you mean? Oh, I've got a house. But it's in the forest. You'll have to do some walking if you want a piece of me."

"I've walked all the way here from the Academy. Ready when you are."

#

Yelena walked with long, tireless strides. She was taller than any other woman in Beechfall, the same height as Damien but with boots slightly thinner in the soles -- giving her feel and a light footfall -- than Damien's thick, sturdy travelling boots.

He kept pace easily, swinging his straight, carved staff so it went *tok, tok, tok* on the cobbles until they left the village's well-maintained road and cut onto dirt. His travelling cloak flapped about his knees but was held onto his back by his bag.

Yelena only had a waxed cloak she could use to keep the rain off or the wind out. A hunting knife at her hip and a coil of rope -- that had been tied around pelts -- were the only other things remaining from her trip into town.

The night was warm, so it was not long before Damien pushed his cloak off his shoulders and opened his jacket.

"So, how many women have you fucked at the Academy?" Yelena asked as they walked into the darkness. She needed no light, but Damien set a floating magelight behind his shoulder to dimly illuminate the path in front of them.

He considered. "Not exactly sure. One of the instructors, who was young and was teaching subjects I never took. Several fellow students, some of them once, some of them on and off, a few regularly. A few girls from the town. A couple of travelling musicians, once. Not together. But there was a core group of us who met up from my second year until we all made Journeyman, to swap spells and techniques and suggestions and to experiment on each other."

"Each other? All at once?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Oh, yes, sometimes. One of us would volunteer to have something tried on them. There were rumours once that students were conducting dark rituals to summon demons. The instructors flatly quashed that and they would know if anyone tried it, but I sometimes think we were responsible for starting them because somebody saw or heard something and misinterpreted it.

"But mostly, it wasn't a group thing. Maybe three of us at once. So there were seven women, nine men who were the core group. A couple who came and went. We all took it very seriously and interrogated anyone who wanted to come into the group. Some came in, decided it wasn't for them and left but were still friends with us. We turned away many more than that."

He shrugged. "Probably where the demon-raising rumours started. Someone got mad they couldn't play with us."

The trail began to meander as it plunged between trees, so Damien dropped behind Yelena for easier going.

"You just want to stare at my arse," she said.

"You're wearing a cloak!" he objected.

Her small house was set in a barely larger clearing. Inside, her bed shared the single room with a basin on a stand, a chest, a fireplace and several weapons hanging from the walls.

"The river is just off that way, I do most of my skinning and cleaning there," she said, waving out in the direction of the forest.

"Cozy," Damien said, looking around. "My room at the Academy was about this size. All I did there was sleep or fuck, though. Do you spend any time in here?"

Yelena, crouching to light the fire, shrugged. "Sleeping. Sharpening my blades. That's about it. If I have meat to sell, I take it straight into town or to a farmer or woodsman out here. I'll sleep in one of their houses, if it's late. There's a few of us out here who could do very well without Beechfall."

The fire caught and held. "It'll be warmer in here soon," she said. "These walls keep it in well."

Damien stepped over to the fire. He put a thicker log on it then held out his hand towards the flames, palm out, and concentrated.

Both Yelena's eyebrows rose.

In seconds, the log crumbled to ashes and warmth washed out of the fire, banishing cold from the room and making Yelena instinctively sway backwards.

"Show-off," she said as she hung her cloak on a hook.

"I just want to help us feel comfortable," he said as he put another log on to maintain the fire -- which had settled into a natural burn -- then dusted his hands smugly.

"You mean you want me to get naked faster," she drawled.

"That's just a handy bonus," he smirked. He dropped his own travelling cloak on the chest and followed it with his jacket.

Yelena raised her eyebrows when she saw his shoulders inside his linen shirt.

"That's fair," she said, untying the laces at her shirt's throat then pulling it over her head.

Damien's eyes gleamed.

Under the shirt, she was wearing a snug but lightweight version of an abbreviated bodice, which finished above her pants and kept her breasts tight to her chest.

"I thought I remembered you having bigger breasts," Damien said. "Why..."

"Comfort," Yelena said sharply. "And a usually futile attempt to not have so many men interested in me."

"Ah."

Unlacing the bodice took longer than the shirt had, and Yelena sighed with relief when it came off.

Then, Damien's eyes really did gleam. Yelena's breasts, freed, were a couple of handfuls bigger than they had appeared, firm enough to sit proudly, capped with nipples already thickening, and perhaps even larger than they appeared because they sat on top of solid muscle.

The rest of Yelena's torso was as impressive as her breasts. Damien's eyes widened when he stopped looking just at her nipples and let his gaze roam. "Hellfire," he said. "You look stronger than a city guard!"

She smirked at him and rolled her shoulders. Muscles showed themselves under her belly and rolled in her shoulders and arms when she flexed them. They didn't bulge, or they would have been noticeable under her shirt, but there was no spare fat on her and she oozed a sense of power. The firelight, coming from low and one side, highlighted everything with long shadows. "I'm a hunter. You try carrying a deer for three hours."

"No, thank you," he said fervently.

Her boots came off quickly. Her soft leather pants just as quickly. She wore braise underneath them, but pushed them off with her pants.

When she straightened up, she was utterly naked. Thick fur at her crotch mirrored her black hair in colour if not straightness.

"I thought you were more eager than that," she drawled.

Damien had removed his boots -- which had much more intensive lacing than Yelena's -- and his shirt, but showed no interest in going further. His torso was lean and showed a wiry strength but it was clear he would be no match for Yelena in any feat of athleticism.

"I have a proposition for you," he said as his gaze continued roaming all over her body.

"I thought we had already agreed to fuck."

"You were always stronger than me, and you clearly are now," he said as if she hadn't just spoken.

"Clearly," she said, amused.

"So when you get too excited, I'm helpless."

"Yes, you are," she said with a smirk.

"So I propose turning the odds in my favour by helping you with a little... restraint."

She blinked, not comprehending for a second, then her eyes widened. "You want to truss me like a deer?" she asked.

He smirked at her. "Oh, I have a more interesting idea than that. If you consent, of course."

"This is what you've been practising? I was expecting magic," she said.

"I never said it wouldn't be magic."

Yelena raised an eyebrow. "And I have your word it won't be dangerous?"

"You have my word."

"And if I decide this is not to my tastes?"

"You have my word. I'll stop."

"You'd be the first man who knew how to do that."

"I've had a lot of practice."

For several heartbeats, they stared at each other, Yelena searchingly and Damien steadily but challengingly.

Then she smiled and held her arms out. "Very well. I'm game. Restrain me."

He smiled wickedly. "Excellent! Now, a lot of magic requires aids, I'm afraid." From a pouch at his belt, he took out a long, thin ribbon, glanced at it briefly, then retrieved a second which clearly made him happier.

"Hold still," he said, advancing on her.

Her lips quirked, but she stayed still as he tied the ribbon loosely around her throat, checking it was not pressing into her skin.

"What will this do?" she asked.

"It will give me a couple of ways to control your limbs. Just your limbs. You'll still be able to speak -- believe me, I want to hear you -- so tell me at any time if you're scared, or in pain, or..." he smiled smugly, "have had enough."

"Hah! Enough? You wish you could make me cry enough! I'll get bored, first."

"Very well, how about a little wager then?" Damien challenged.

Yelena laughed. "What sort?"

"I can make you beg to suck upon my cock."

Yelena burst out laughing and needed a little time to control herself. "Beg? You really are confident!"

"No pain, no threat, but I can make you so aroused, so frantic, you beg to suck my cock."

"Oh, you have a bet, Damien! I can't wait for this!"

"And if you beg, you will?" he pressed her.

"If I beg, I can't imagine myself not, can you?"

"Maybe, if you have to recover first."

"Ho! You really are confident! If you can make me beg, I'll kneel in front of you and suck your cock tomorrow morning, if I have to."

Damien gave her a slow, supremely self-satisfied smile. "Good," he said.

He raised his hand and pointed his palm towards her with his fingers loosely together.

When he spread his fingers wide, Yelena's arms swung upwards and stretched out, she rose off the ground and her legs parted until she was hanging midway between roof and floor in an X shape.

"What the fuck?!" Yelena twisted, trying to pull her arms and legs in. All she managed to do was writhe helplessly while Damien watched her with a grin splitting his face and his eyes dark pools drinking it all in.

"Restraints," Damien said, glee in his voice. "Go on, try and move."

Yelena glared at him, then put renewed effort into trying to pull her wrists down but, although every muscle strained and her feet curled with the unconscious effort of hooking around a restraint that could not be seen and barely felt, all she managed to do was make her face flush.

She was panting when she relaxed. "Alright, it's good," she conceded. "And if I ask you to let me go?"

"Then I'll let you go. But please don't, this spell needs a bit of preparation and I don't have a spare."

Yelena almost looked amused at that. "So, I have to hang here? I thought you were going to be doing all the work."

"You don't have to hang from your arms, your body is also supported."

Yelena glanced sceptically at her wrists, where she could see no sign of the restraints she felt. When she let her legs relax, a surprised look flitted across her face. When her shoulders relaxed as much as they could, she looked grudgingly impressed. "I will admit, that's impressive. Why upright, though? Why not lying down?"

"It's more fun this way."

"Oh, very well. It's not like I wasn't going to lie back and spread my legs anyway. Get on with it, I'm getting cold here."

"That must be where the sweat comes from," Damien said, stepping closer. He looked Yelena up and down slowly while she hung with a challenging look on her face, her breasts rising and falling slightly with her breathing and her nipples not fully hard but not soft, either.

She didn't bother replying to him, she just maintained her same amused, slightly challenging and expectant expression, and waited.

"Hmmm." Damien continued looking her up and down. "Oh, but you have the most amazing body I have ever had the privilege of giving pleasure."

"You haven't done anything yet," Yelena pointed out.

Damien waved this away. "Oh, you had before I left, too. I've never met another woman as strong as you. As sexy as you."

"And yet, you still have your trousers on."

He laughed. "Oh, I will take them off later. In good time."

His gaze lingered on the thatch of black hair at her groin. He muttered something, shaped his right hand so two fingers were held rigidly together, and brushed them through her fur.

Where his fingers went, fur cascaded neatly to the ground, leaving her skin entirely bare, until there was a thicket above her nether lips but nothing upon or around them.

"Hey!"

"I want a better view," he said simply.

One of Yelena's eyebrows arched, but she held her tongue.

He dipped his two fingers into a pouch at his belt, rummaged around for a little, then pulled them out thickly coated in something dark and wetly glistening.

"Now hang on..." she began, but he put his fingers not to her entrance but to her belly. She subsided, and craned her neck to try and see what he was doing.

It was clear he was painting something that was surely a script, but not a script Yelena -- whose literacy was confined to numbers and certain efficient markings shared between hunters and other folks of the woods -- had ever seen.

"What is in that?" she asked.

Damien chuckled. "Oh, that is a trade secret."

"Are there slugs in it? There are slugs in it, aren't there?"

"Not slugs," he said after looking up at her face through his eyelashes. "Some herbs," he conceded. "Water." He did not mention that it contained a little of his blood, a little of his semen and a little of the vaginal fluids of a woman (in this case, a fellow student and member of the circle, a year behind Damien in studying, who became particularly wet when aroused and regularly traded with men, Damien included, for their semen for her own ointments). He particularly did not mention the last part.

"What does it do?" Yelena asked.

Damien pulled his hand back, inspected what he had done, and appeared satisfied. He smirked at her. "Oh, many things. Many things."

He rewetted his fingers in his pouch and began drawing different markings upon Yelena's left breast.

She purred a little. "Not that this doesn't feel nice, but even this doesn't feel very sexy," she said.

"Your nipple seems to disagree."

"Your fingers are cold."

He slowly smiled. "Well, I can fix that."

Abruptly, Yelena stiffened, eyes widening and mouth falling open. "Oh! Ho-oh-oh! Tha... That fe... feels better!"

Damien smirked at her suddenly extremely erect nipple. "Tell me what it feels like," he said, a purr in his voice.

"Ooh! It feels like... a... Hah! A warm tongue, but... feathers? Dry feathers and a warm tongue? Tha... that sh... shouldn't be... Gods!"

Yelena's whole torso shuddered, her abdomen clenching so her muscles stood out in stark relief.