Acolyte

"I'm sorry!" I cried as messy strings of pearly fluid dripped from my cupped hands, but she was not upset. Her choking gave way to a gale of laughter, and soon I too joined in as the hilarity of the scene overcame my embarrassment.

*

"There are twelve symbols," she said, taking a long, thin rope of dough and winding it into a half-familiar shape. "This is jiarro, after the wounded god. Take care in his calling. And this is chain-bound barkhu." Another rope of dough took shape in her hands.

"I know this one," I said, tracing it with a finger. "It is the heart of the spell I know, a binding spell that imprisons the mind."

She shivered in recognition. "That is a dark and forbidden spell. Let me see if I can recall it." Taking two ropes of dough, she joined them into a loop, and by crossing and recrossing the loop with itself, like some sort of child's game, she fashioned the very same symbol that had been used on me, and then by me. "Do you see?" she asked.

I nodded, and she gathered up the dough with nervous haste, and balled it up. "It means nothing when I do it, but in the hands of a witch..." She glanced at me fearfully, as if I might suddenly use it on her.

One by one she taught me the symbols. "This is tamna for fertility, after the mother. This is erkkha for desire, after the twins." On some level I knew them already, but until she spoke their names I was ignorant of their detail and significance. They were divinities, and they were constellations, symbols of celestial significance. The firefly of magic was stolen starlight. "Together, they can make a powerful love spell." Once again she showed me, crafting the spell from a single loop of dough, and discarding it quickly. "Itsa for good fortune, dadat for prowess in battle, sunru for wisdom..."

A finite alphabet to make an infinite language. And there was far more to it than her grandmother had taught her, subtleties of meaning that no doubt could take a lifetime to learn and master. "Let me try." I made a loop of dough and practised making spell symbols - it was harder than she made it look. Eventually I succeeded in creating an elegant design with tamna at its heart.

The baker laughed. "A fertility spell?"

"Not yet." I thought for a moment, then made another loop of dough, tracing the circle with a star-bright fingertip before recreating the design. "Now it is. I think."

"What do I do with it?"

I shrugged. "Bake it? Eat it?"

"I'll bake it. You eat it."

She did, and I did, and afterwards my member was rigid and throbbing with a desperate need for release. "Magnificent," she said, sighing with pleasure just to see it. Undressing, she turned and bent over a workbench, exposing her bare, beautiful rear, and the sweet target nestled between. Soft, delicate lips, glistening with arousal. I lined up for entry, pressed between those welcoming folds, and pushed slowly into that perfect, warm tightness.

I took her from behind, the way a stallion takes a mare, my powerful length plunging ever deeper and harder, until I was knocking at the entrance to her womb. "Yes!" she screamed, uncaring for the moment who might hear her cries of ecstasy. "Yes! Give it to me!"

So excited was I, I needed no further encouragement. I unleashed within her, my fertility-spelled essence erupting into her depths, bursting out of me and into her. "Yes! More!"

No sooner was I done than I was ready for more. For hours, long after she returned to her unloving husband, the fertility spell kept me rigid and ready for more. Though I tried to deny the compulsion to touch myself, I surrendered again and again, until sheer exhaustion brought an end to my first experiment with magic.