Mirror Bound

Clearly, Paul still found that difficult to hear. I wondered if he realized he could have had the honour if he hadn't kept me away. I thought so. He observed: 'You seem to know exactly what you can expect from this man, and what you want from me.

I feel hurt, but I don't know if I have the right to. And the thought of you wanting to see my bedroom kind of excites me. A lot. It's really tempting. But first I want to meet this creature of yours, find out if he means danger to you or to us all. Will you take me to him?'

Relieved that he seemed to understand me a little, I told him: 'Gladly, but I have a few questions first: do you have a file or sharp knife to trim his hoofs with? And do you have some pants that may be too small for you, or that you don't like to wear anymore? Not too tight, he's not used to wearing clothes.

And what about my magic lesson?' He laughed and took a large file and a sheathed knife from their place on the wall. Then he held out his hand to me, inviting me to follow him up the stairs and into his gorgeous house, where he left me outside a door on the landing: 'I'll check out my pile of excess clothing, he'll want some shirts as well.

But you cannot come in yet, you will not see my bedroom until I'm ready for some love-play of our own.' I felt relieved at his joking, glad I had been totally honest with him. When he came out, he handed me a black velvet cloth and a glass bottle. He carried another bundle himself, plus two leather bound books. 'Homework', he said. Then we left his apartment and climbed the stairs to mine.

Chapter 5

I had to put the cloth and the bottle down to open the door, and I picked them up again and entered my house, followed by Paul. Expecting to see Lukas in the kitchen or in bed, I looked around and started to worry: he seemed to have disappeared.

Looking at Paul I felt a bit foolish, suppose he thought I had made it all up. But Paul motioned me to keep quiet, then pointed at the little room where he had personally installed a really nice shower, hooked up to a central boiler located in his basement. Apparently he had other means to find people than just his ears and eyes.

I moved toward the room rather noisily, not wanting to startle Lukas if he was hiding in fear. Quietly opening the door I found him behind the curtain, slightly startled it was me but very relieved. He spoke in his own language and I again heard the meaning of what he said in my mind: 'I sensed a source of great power coming this way, and got scared. I'm totally without resources, I can't defend myself at all.'

From right behind me I now heard Paul speak up, but I couldn't understand a word he said, for it was spoken in the same language that Lukas used. It sounded much more commanding than his usual tone, but it didn't seem to scare Lukas any further.

I could understand Lukas' answer, apparently my mind still caught the meaning of his words when they were not directed at me: 'So I find myself in a guardian's home, what a stroke of good luck. And a guardian who speaks Greek. Now I dare to feel a lot safer.'

And at me: 'You must be talented then, no wonder you can understand me and make yourself understood through your mind.' Suddenly he realized something: 'That makes what I took from you even more of a loss, though it probably saved my life. Please tell me you weren't chaste for your calling.' I didn't understand, but clearly Paul did.

He spoke several sentences in the strange language, apparently Greek, and Lukas' face fell. Paul, seeing I didn't understand, explained and translated for me: 'If you had been chaste to develop your talent, he might have ruined your guardianship by trying to take you unasked. I told him it was a despicable thing to do.'

I can tell you, that made me more than a little mad, and I told Paul in no uncertain terms that it was not his place to judge Lukas for what he did, I had already done that and I had forgiven him. It was my body and my decision, and I had made a choice to let him continue, and greatly enjoyed the results.

If the deflowering of a potential guardian had saved Lukas' life, I'd say it was power well spent, I didn't feel the loss. I had the satisfaction of seeing Paul look a little shamefaced, but not hurt. He might be my self-appointed mentor, but that didn't give him the right to patronize me. He'd better teach me some magic first, for at the moment, I had not a shred of evidence of the existence of magic, I only had his word for it.

Clearly, the translation of language not directed at the other worked both ways, for Lukas' face cleared and he embraced me thankfully. Regrettably, that did seem to hurt Paul, though I'm sure Lukas was only relieved, not triumphant. Lukas seemed very impulsive to me, almost childlike.

But in the matter of lovemaking he appeared to be very much adult and very experienced. It would be interesting to get to know him better.

We sat down with a cup of tea as Paul asked Lukas endless questions about how he had come through that mirror, and who had mistreated him with so much expertise. I couldn't understand the questions as Paul asked them in Greek, but Lukas' answers still came straight into my mind.

Paul offered to translate for me, and when I told him that I understood everything Lukas said in some strange way, he was amazed. 'That must be your talent awakening,' he told me, 'though it is a talent I've never heard of before.' So from that moment on, he only translated his own questions, and we could all understand one another.

Lukas' story was frightening. He had been taken from his father's home, a villa in a place akin to ancient Greece, on the shore of the Mediterranean, but with people like himself living there in a society based on intimacy.

He had been taken to a place that looked nothing like anywhere on his earth, or ours. It was cave-like, but the stone was not like caves on earth, and outside there were no plants or animals at all. The air was hot, laden with moisture and heavy with sulphuric fumes. The creatures keeping him captive were nothing like humans and not like his own kind either. Demons would be the best description, and they never gave a reason why they had taken him. He suspected they just enjoyed torture. He had been systematically starved, of food and of company. He needed a lot of emotional and physical attention to thrive, and even with plenty of food he would have slowly succumbed to sheer unhappiness.

They did not actively torture him, just the occasional beating. It was mainly the emotional void that brought him to the point where he had to get away or die within a few days. He was not bound in the caves, and one day he found a strange opening in one of the rocks. In desperation, he stuck his head into the hole, and saw a strange but welcoming living-room.

Not able to imagine a worse fate than his current one, he jumped through, and found himself on the floor of the room. Hearing someone approach, he hid, and nothing could have tempted him to come out besides an offer of intimacy, the one thing he could no longer do without. My friendliness had made him feel a lot better, able to eat something, to see some future for himself.

Used to a culture where practically everyone would be intimate with each other, he felt free to initiate sex with me without consideration. Stopped in his tracks brutally, he was devastated, ready to give up. After I explained my anger and we had shared intimacies, he could go on.

Having no way to return home, he would have to try to fit in. The Greece where people like him lived had to be a different reality than ours, and there was no way to find it from here. We would have to try to make his life bearable, fit him in well enough for him to be able to enjoy some freedom.

It would be really difficult in our stiff society and with his alien looks, but I was glad to hear that Paul was willing to help, and we decided to start with Lukas learning English and basic Victorian manners. Paul showed him the clothes he'd brought, and fitting Lukas well enough, they'd probably look even better on him once he'd gained some weight.

But before all that, Paul showed me how to infuse the black velvet cloth with the fluid from the glass bottle, a kind of spiritual holy water. Then we wrapped the mirror in that. Now it only needed putting away in a deep dark place.

'Why not destroy it?' I asked. 'Frankly, I don't dare. The collapse of the portal might flatten my quarter of the city, or the whole city,' Paul said, 'this should be safe enough.' And then there was the matter of Lukas' hoofs. Though he could file them into shape by himself, it would be easier to have someone else do it.

Of course that was a job for the artist Paul, and with directions from Lukas he cut and filed one hoof into the shape it was supposed to have. Then he did the other one in reverse, without further instruction, proof of his superior craftsmanship. 'If you ever need shoes, come to me, and I'll forge you a nice pair out of copper,' he joked, but the concept of shoeing hoofs was totally new to Lukas. When we explained he said: 'My hoofs are hard enough to climb rocks with all day.

I'd rather wear shoes like yours. That would make me fit right in.' And he was right. Fitting in would be the main challenge from now on.

Paul took the mirror for safe-keeping. I'll make you a new piece for over your hearth,' he promised, 'you read those books, and I'll get some for Lukas to study English. I'll get some food too, and cook for the three of us tonight, if you both agree.'

He translated this into Greek, and we both did agree. In English he said to me: 'You were right to give him what he needed. I will try to keep an open mind.' Relieved by his understanding, I embraced and kissed him, and he left. I decided to feed my goat-man, then send him back to bed, but he turned out to be just as much his own person as I was. With another meal inside him, he started to nuzzle me, and fondle my curves.

Absently I permitted his attentions, until he said: 'Melissa.' I looked at him, saw a thoughtful look on his face. 'You love him, don't you?' he asked. Did he speak the words out aloud, or were they just in my mind this time? 'I do, Lukas,' I replied, I've loved him since I first met him a few weeks ago.' 'Why aren't you intimate then? He loves you badly, it hurts him when I touch you,' he wondered. 'I want to very much, Lukas, but he doesn't want to get intimate for fear of getting hurt,' I said. 'That is stupid, he already hurts. I think he should love you as I love you,' he insisted. 'I know, and I wish he would,' I said, 'but he wants to wait until my magic has come through.'

'Do you love me?' he asked. 'I think I do, Lukas, I haven't known you that long but I think I love you,' I said, 'do you think that is possible?' 'How could anyone love just one person?' he retorted, 'where I come from that would be considered unhealthy.

Can I make love to you now?' As answer, I took him in my arms and kissed him deeply, the remembrance of feeling him thrust himself into me rushing in, making me feel as shameless as a cat in heat.

We made it to the bed, where I stroked his mottled skin, across his chest and over his stomach, until I reached his impressive penis, stroking it too, the base, the smooth, bared top. Then I took it in my mouth, first as far as it would fit, then running my tongue over the smooth surface, under the ridges, and back in. He lay back for some time, enjoying my caresses, only moving slightly along with my movement up and down.

But soon he took a more active part again, and I felt him move beneath me, felt his hands stroke me, my soft white skin, my beautiful round breasts, until he was once more kneeling between my legs, spreading them gently, stroking my thighs and tasting my most intimate place with his tongue. With my passion rising, I also felt the need to be more active, and I in my turn moved beneath him until I could reach his penis again, head between his legs, passing my heat on to his sensitive member. This was really turning me on, and I soon had a high, feeling his flesh in my mouth at my height of passion. Moaning with ardour, he carefully pulled his male part out of my mouth, turned a little and entered me, nice and firmly.

That was a good trick, penetrating on a high point, for it once again brought me sheer bliss. I guess this was his favourite part, for he looked triumphant, pumping away on top of me, looking at me with real love, fondling my breasts, my face, my hair. He lifted my legs a little to allow himself even more access, reaching other sensitive spots inside me, leading me to new heights. Collapsing on me was becoming an excellent habit, he was so light that I could have had him there for hours.

I suddenly realized that I had ignored one of his most distinctive features so far. Were his horns just too alien for me to acknowledge? Or did I suppose they had little feeling because they were so hard? In any case, I pulled the blanket over both of us, snuggled comfortably under him, and touched one of the horns.

Of course, it felt like a horn, hard and rough. But my touch did have an effect on him. He turned his head to give me easy access, and closed his eyes in pleasure. He loved to have his horns touched! Feeling along the surface of the horn, I was amazed that his body could make such a hard substance, and when I reached the base I rubbed the ring where the horn was attached to his skull, a bony ridge covered with soft skin.

This put him in a near trance of ardour, he leaned into the caresses like a cat, it felt as if he would start purring any time. He reached for the breast he was not lying on, stroking it, feeling its soft weight in his hand. With my other hand, I started to give his other horn base the same caresses as the first, and it seemed he could hardly contain the feeling this gave him.

I felt his penis rise against my thigh, and I spread my legs to give him access to his release, which he promptly took, taking care to keep his proud horns within my reach. Feeling his penetration inside me again, I shared the ecstasy he was experiencing. He bent over slightly to take one of my nipples in his mouth, the whole top of my breast, gently sucking it, and licking the tip with his tongue. That sharp feeling reached right down, further and further, and when it met the place where his penis touched me inside, I exploded in the strongest high I had had so far. Feeling that high slowly ebb, flaring up with every one of his thrusts, I felt completely sated. Lukas now released my breast, and sat up straighter in his furious action.

No longer able to reach his horns, I stroked his chest, his arms, his shoulders. Where did he get that energy? How could the small amount he ate ever become even a thin layer of fat if he spent it immediately on making love frantically? I just knew he needed this more than food, so I stopped thinking and enjoyed his release.

This time, he lay next to me, truly spent now, our bodies touching, limbs entwined. We kissed some more, but we mainly just lay there, enjoying the silence.

Chapter 6

He soon fell asleep, still low on energy I guessed, so I picked up one of the books and sat on the bed next to his sleeping form. The book was interesting, explaining where magic energy came from and how talented people could manipulate it. I read for a few hours, trying to understand what I read, and writing down questions for Paul.

When Lukas woke up, we showered together, and I decided to wear one of my dresses instead of my usual skirt and bodice. Lukas was watching me dress, and I'm sure that if he had not been sated totally not three hours ago, he would have jumped me again. 'Are you dressing up to convince Paul to make his love for you physical?' he asked.

I answered: 'Yes I am, does that make you jealous?' Looking at me questioningly he said: 'What's jealous?' That made me want to hug him, but I was sure that if I did that, we'd never make it to dinner. So I told him I couldn't explain quickly, and that it was better not to know the feeling anyway.

He added: 'If he sees you in that dress and still won't make love to you, he must be a machine instead of a man. You look like a goddess.' I took heart from his certainty of my success, for I did not feel nearly as sure. Paul was a very disciplined fellow, he could be dying of love and still not act on it, I feared.

But still I said: 'Thank you love, every woman wants to be compared to a goddess. Hair up, in a tail, or down?' His answer was clear: 'Down of course. He'll want to touch it, it looks like molten copper. If he won't, he must really be made of steel.'

Looking in the mirror, despite my realisation how beautiful I really was, that was exactly what I was afraid of.

I convinced Lukas he really needed to wear clothes when visiting, so he chose a shirt and a pair of trousers and put them on. He wore them well, not looking as uncomfortable as he must have felt. His hooves looked cute, peeping from under the pant-legs. His tail was just a small bump under his shirt, hardly noticeable.

Only the horns really betrayed his alienness. As we were ready to go, I took his arm and we went downstairs. I knocked on the door, and after a short time, Paul opened the door.

His face became a study in stunned amazement when he saw me. I'd never worn a dress in his presence, and he had clearly never really looked at me as a woman before. He did now.

The artist in him could not be immune to my perfect form, usually hidden in practical clothing. I saw it in his posture, in his face, he wanted to touch me, feel my glorious hair, run his hands through it, caress my perfectly symmetrical curves, bury his face in my luscious cleavage.

But he didn't. He didn't even hug me or kiss me, he just gently took my hand with both of his and kissed it gallantly, saying: 'Melissa, you are so beautiful you stopped my heart there for a second.' Then he shook hands cordially with Lukas, addressing him in Greek.

I could clearly see that Lukas did not understand Paul's behaviour at all. He stammered a greeting back, but he looked like he had been hit with a hammer. In his culture it must have been the worst sin to nearly die of admiration for someone and then deny it so totally.

In our society it was proof of total self control, mind over body, a sign of manliness if you please, but in his it must have been a gross rudeness and probably very unhealthy. I took his hand to comfort him, he was really upset, but at the same time I did feel a bit rejected by Paul's behaviour. Still, he had made it clear he needed more time, and I had promised myself I would stick it out, so I would.

I'd explain it to Lukas later, and maybe share a little love with him to relieve both our feelings. For now, Lukas would not be able to dwell on them, for Paul invited us to enter his palace. I suspected he must have been more used to riches than I was, for he was not stunned with admiration of the total, but rather very much interested in the detail.

He studied the wood panelling, the stairs, the mosaic floor with so much patience, that Paul and I got a little restless and went ahead. Paul said something to him, and I heard the answer: 'Sure, I'll see you in the kitchen. You don't mind my hanging back?'

Paul said something in Greek again, and then him and me walked into the lovely kitchen.

Alone, Paul showed a little more feeling, saying: 'Melissa, have you any idea what you're doing to me looking like that?' I decided to play it cool as well, and replied: 'The idea was to have you fall at my feet and worship me.'

'Well, you nearly succeeded in that, it took my utmost discipline to act casually. I thought we had agreed to just be friends until you had your talent under control?' he said in a pained voice. 'No, you decided that, because you were afraid to get hurt,' I retorted, 'I'd rather take the risk, loving someone is always a risk.'