Nina Part Two

"Sex magic," he replied, trembling somewhat. He let his gaze linger over some of the nearest books, and it made his eyes water.

"You remember I told you that there were different types of magic? And that each drew its power from some aspect of instinctual human behaviour and emotion? Well, I am a silver wizard. I draw my strength my intellect and rationality. When I stand near the books of Pythonagoras or Suckrates, I am filled with their power and reason. The more I understand, the greater I become. Do you understand?"

"Not really," I confessed. It didn't seem to matter to Tumescence, who continued his lecture. "Sex magic is different. It draws its power from Ð well Ð sex. Sex magicians like to prance around naked in the open air with young virgins."

"Not too many of them round here, then..."

"No, you're quite right there. In fact, despite all the attractions, there aren't that many wizards who are prepared to specialise in sex magic. The hours are long, and they spend more time looking for virgin maids to deflower than they do actually deflowering them, if you know what I mean." I was starting to wish he wouldn't keep saying that. "And that's the problem, you see. The King, our most Magnificent Harrdon, wants me to prepare him an illustrated copy of the Orgasmus, the most sacred book of Mammari, to give to an important member of the court who returns home in a few days. I can't copy the book myself, though Ð you've seen how sex drains my powers." I certainly had. But what was this to do with me?

"I need an apprentice, someone who can do the job for me. You can write, can't you? That's what I thought. All you have to do is copy the words from the old copy of the Orgasmus I have lying around here into a new volume. Then I'll get the court painter to add the illustrations, and the job is done!"

It didn't sound so difficult, and it was earning me free room and board inside the palace, so I didn't want to look a gift goat in the mouth, but I figured it might be sensible if I took a look at this book, so that I had a better idea what I was letting myself in for. Tumescence scowled when I suggested this, then waved a finger airily in the direction of a large case on the second shelf. "That's it, there," he whimpered, stepping back a few paces. "I'll leave you to it, if you don't mind, only my arthritis is already playing me up. Come and find me when you're done, and we'll see about getting something to eat."

I watched Tumescence totter away, then dragged what I thought was a trunk from the shelf. Only it wasn't a trunk, it was a single book, its huge pages packed with dense writing and pictures. I staggered under the weight of it, and tripped over a pile of old maps stacked against the wall. The book hit the ground with a heavy thud, and flipped open its leaves most eagerly. I decided not to lug it all the way back to the desk, but to read it where it had fallen, so I made myself comfortable on the piles of rolled up maps, and hauled the book in front of me to read from where the book had fallen open.

It was a story I hadn't heard before, even though mum had told me so many. It concerned two Nordic maidens who were strolling through the forest one day. It started to rain, and they squealed and giggled loudly as the rain soaked their long skirts and their frilly blouses. Like all good Nordic maidens, they were big-breasted girls, and the wet fabric of their blouses was soon moulded round their ripe, heavy tits, and their firm, muscular thighs were likewise revealed under the damp cloth. They kicked off their skirts, and continued on their way with their fat arses wobbling, and their tits shining through the translucent material. And like all good Nordic maidens traipsing through the forest half-undressed, they were surprised by a giant troll.

The troll leapt out onto the path in front of them, brandishing a mighty staff in front of him. There was a picture of him at this point in the text, and I can tell you it was a very impressive staff indeed. Trolls have a slightly stone-like constitution at the best of times, but this troll was rock hard, and when he saw the Nordic maidens he became even harder.

They made a big show of running away of course, but he caught them easily and dragged them across the mountains to his cave, which he sealed with a huge boulder. The girls cowered in the depths of the cave in their skimpy blouses while the troll lit a fire and announced casually that he was going to eat them. And that even though they might like it while he was nibbling on their juicier parts, they'd be less contented when they became the main course.

Facing imminent death, the Nordic maidens came up with a stunning plan, pretty much the only plan they were capable of. If they agreed to fuck him all night, would he agree to open the cave in the morning and let them go? "Alright," said the troll, "it's a deal."

Now the maidens were more than a little worried by the size of his staff, so Ð having removed their frilly blouses and untied their braided, blonde hair Ð they rubbed each other vigorously to make their cunts wet enough to take it. This pleased the troll a great deal, and it pleased him even more when they sucked his staff, and rubbed their slippery bodies along its prodigious length. After almost an hour of this, the Nordic maidens were ready, so the troll laid the first one down, and knelt between her chubby white thighs. Gripping his staff in both hands, he manoeuvred the huge tip between the lips of her cunt, and started to push.

At first, all he succeeded in doing was pushing her round the cave on her back, but the maiden opened herself a little wider, and he gradually started to penetrate her sex. Finally, with a great shove, he got half his length up her, and started to fuck her with a vengeance.

After about an hour, the poor girl could stand no more, so her compatriot was pulled to the ground in her place, and the troll stuck his staff up her. She squealed and kicked her heels in the air as he thrust in and out of her sodden quim, gripping her tits in his big, stone paws. He fucked her for two hours, until she had come so many times her brains had turned to jelly. Since he still hadn't come, the poor Nordic maiden held up her hands to beg for mercy.

"Why haven't you cum yet?" she asked. "Have you ever tried to get spunk out of a stone?" he replied, which is where we get the expression from. And with that he bent her over a stone, and started to fuck her from the rear.

There is a sting in the tail of this tale, of course, which is that the troll had carried the Nordic maidens so far north that they were in those lands where the sun doesn't rise for three months in the year. So, when they agreed to let him fuck the all night, they got more than they bargained for.

I read the story with some interest, pushing down the filmy pantaloons I wore so that I could frig my pussy, which was suitably aroused by the story. I lay on my belly, with my arse in the air, and my hand gently frotting my clitty. I was becoming quite excited when Tumescence called that it was time to go in to dinner. I closed the book, carried it back to the shelf, then went to find my master. Studious readers will have noticed that Ð despite everything that has happened so far Ð I still hadn't experienced a proper orgasm. Bear with me; things start to look up in that direction. Meantime though, and without me understanding why, I was becoming quite agitated. When I joined Tumescence, I was almost in tears.

"What is it, Nina?"

"Master, can't I stay here? If I go back into the tower, Grope may kidnap me again."

"He wouldn't dare risk my wrath," wheezed Tumescence, sagging heavily on his staff (at which point I remembered to fasten my pantaloons more securely). "You're perfectly safe." Even so, I wasn't brave enough to take the risk, so I asked the wizard to bring me back some food, which he did when he staggered back into his home, the worse for drink. I ate alone in my room while he staggered off to his own bed, then I wrapped myself up in my blankets and fell asleep.

The next morning, I awoke early, and found that my master was still sleeping off the effects of last night's drink. Keen to make a good impression, I pulled on my pantaloons and a small red waistcoat, and went into the library to make a start on my mammoth task. I found some vellum, quills and ink, and cleared a space on the desk. After some consideration, I decided it would be a lot less effort to take the desk and chair to the Orgasmus, rather than try and drag it all the way to where they stood. It didn't take so long, and soon I had the volume open on the desk (which groaned under the strain), and had started to copy.

I found myself starting from the story of Clitopatra, a former Queen of Mammari who had reigned here during our glorious Twelfth Dynasty. This had been a time of great trouble for the Kingdom,what with the Rogerran Empire threatening to engulf us, and various disputes between the gods leaving us without the benefit of an active divine insurance policy.

When an old King died in the Twelfth Dynasty, it was normal for his eldest son to take the throne, and to marry his most nubile sister, and then to kill off all his brothers to prevent any competition for the throne. Clitopatra's mother had had six daughters, only producing a son when Clitopatra was already eight. Fifteen years later, the old King died. The nobility were very happy, because his son, known as Phuk, was the only boy, which meant no distasteful stranglings of younger brothers. Clitopatra, on the other hand, was very unhappy at any possibility of marrying her brother. Not only were his acne, halitosis and body odour in fierce competition to be the most revolting aspect about him, but she also knew that he bathed at best once every five years (so often!). So she renounced all claim to the throne, and ran off to find a more suitable partner.

The boss of the Rogerran Empire at the time was a randy old goat named Droolius Ceizeher. Everyone knew he preferred boys on the whole, but that suited Clitopatra since it eliminated much of the competition. She had herself wrapped up in a carpet, and delivered to his palace. When Ceizeher unwrapped the unexpected gift, he was double delighted, first because Clitopatra had bound up her boobs so tight she looked like a boy, but even more so because her gauzy trousers were split from the waistband at the back to the crotch. The Emperor leapt on her, and gave her a thorough fucking before he even realised she was a woman, if you catch my meaning.

Well, to cut a long story short, she convinced him that he should renounce all other men, and cleave only to her. They did a great deal of cleaving. And when he wasn't cleaving, Ceizeher was conquering. He led the Rogerrans to Mammari and placed Clitopatra on the throne. She had a rare old time with his favourite general, Marc Handsomely, then had the old Emperor bumped off by his best friend, Brut, who was built like a brick shithouse and could fuck all night without stopping for cocoa.

I thought the story of Clitopatra was very inspiring, but the story as told in the copy of the Orgasmus Tumescence owned was as dull as ditchwater. Certainly I could remember a great many other details, which my mum had always remembered, but which seemed to be missing from this account. For example, Clitopatra liked to bathe in milk, or so the book said. My mum knew better. Clitopatra liked to bathe in yogurt, and to have it licked off her by her maids. Then there was a lot of nonsense about her killing herself by letting an asp bite her breast. It was a well known fact that she died when she let a beast bite her ass.

Rather than let these inaccuracies continue, I added a few changes to the work I copied. By noon, I had completed the story. Tumescence awoke, and I brought him some lunch. I served him some soup and bread, and he looked much stronger for it.

"How have you got on this morning?" he asked. I told him what I had achieved. "Good! Now take the sheaths you have finished into the Tower, and ask for Master Bator, the court artist. He will supply the illustrations."

"But master, I'm still not ready to go back into the tower," I wailed. Tumescence tutted impatiently. "Don't be silly, girl. Grope is hardly likely to attack you in the main hall in broad daylight. You'll be perfectly safe, I tell you." He refused to listen to my pleas, and escorted me through the shop, and out into the courtyard. I trotted quickly to the main doorway on my tiny sandalled feet, and in through the door where Grope had intercepted me. No-one came to halt my progress this time, and I skipped along a tiled hall, and through an archway into a large chamber near the centre of the tower. I paused there for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds, quite giddy with excitement. It was as if I had died and gone to heaven.

This was the main banqueting hall of the Palace! Here was I, a tap-girl from the Humped-back Beast Inn, walking freely into the banqueting hall of the Magnificent Harrdon himself! Great braziers lit the room in warm light, and the air was full of scent and incense. Servants, dressed in the same kind of tunic I had worn so briefly myself, scurried this way and that, going to and fro through the doors across the way, bearing flagons of wine, plates of bread, meat and fruit, and bringing them to the tables of the King's guests. For one electrifying moment, I wondered if the King himself might be dining there, but there was no-one seated at the high table except a callow youth of perhaps fifteen, with a few aged women alongside, piling food onto his plate and whispering in his ear through rouged lips. He looked thoroughly miserable. I felt quite sorry for him.

However, it was easy to contain my disappointment, for collected on the divans and cushions were the great and the good of Mammari, the dukes and earls, the countesses and marquesses, the sons and daughters of generations of nobility and royalty. There were perhaps thirty or forty guests in the hall, young men and women of quality, with a few older men and well-preserved women amongst them. And beautiful! I had never seen so many beautiful faces and bodies in such a small space. The Inn's customers had been many things, but beauty wasn't uppermost among their attributes. In here were the pampered and groomed cream of society, eating and drinking their fill Ð

Still standing in the open doorway, I suddenly realised that for all the great amount of food being brought from the kitchens, there wasn't that much being eaten. That is, there wasn't much eating of the comestibles. About a dozen paces in front of me, a man sat on a great pile of cushions, escorted by two young women in jewelled head-dresses and vaporous skirts of silk. Where they would normally have worn the skimpy bras I saw thrown to the floor behind them, the two women wore layers of pureed fruit. There was one tit covered in lime, another in peach, a third in strawberry and the last in banana. The gentleman was slowly licking this off, which occasioned much giggling from the women. Between lengthy sucks, he would pronounce on the flavour of each tit, unable to make up his mind which was tastiest.

Some of the food was greasy enough to remind me of home, but that was just how these people liked it. I watched a mature woman with a very narrow waist rubbing great handfuls of fat onto the bloated cock of a young, round man, who was himself anointing the shapely rear of a delicate girl with large, grey eyes and a wistful, expectant expression. Two other men were bobbing for apples in a chalice filled with wine, but when they were joined by a tall, leggy brunette, they lifted her into the chalice and went bobbing for her pussy instead.

It was more than just a novelty to me to see food used in that way. I couldn't imagine for a moment that anyone could feel the same about curdled goat's milk as one young man felt about the banana he was being fed from out of the pussy of his short companion. I also found myself wandering how I could fulfil my goal to become rich when there were clearly so many girls to compete with. And there was no sign of any money trading places.

Even as I tried to gather my thoughts, and get on with the task my master had assigned me, I caught sight of a familiar back. I knew at once that it was the same man I had seen just two days before, when I had mistakenly walked into the main entrance of the tower. There could be no mistake Ð that same long, broad back, rounded with deep muscle; the same heavy head and the wild tumble of russet-brown hair; the same thick, powerful legs. Yes, alright. And the same taut bum, all bronzed and oiled, with a dark cleft dividing it.

He was seated on a divan, a short distance away, turned away from me, his arms moving slowly. I moved very slightly around the hall to see what he was doing. His massive hands were wound through the hair of his companion, and he was stroking her scalp with his fingers. It was the same beautiful woman I had seen him with before. The great snake of shining blue-black hair was untied, and spread about her back like a cape. She was naked, as was he, and they both had their eyes closed, which allowed me to walk slowly round the hall to be roughly at that point of the wall where his feet pointed without being seen. She was lying on a deep pile of cushions and rugs, her head in his lap, and she was sucking idly at his cock while he stroked her head. Of all the things I had seen consumed since I came into the room, this was the only meat I found myself desiring.

Yes, call it love or call it lust, I instinctively knew I wanted him. I might have struggled to put my feelings into words, but there was a deep hole inside me, and it wanted filling. All the scraps of sexual knowledge that were lying around in my mind, captured from the stories my mum had told me, distilled from the sly glances through the keyhole of her room, illuminated by the illustrations in the Orgasmus, all of these were shouting and waking up my libido, crying "Look, that's what we meant! You have to get some of that!"

It wasn't easy, but I tried to get a good look at his cock as it slid wetly in and out of the woman's rounded mouth. I had very little to compare it with, but I knew that this was a different order of thing from the spurting snake of Pork Sausage, or the tiny worm that Grope had pointed between my tits. The woman's jaw was struggling to hang onto her face, and her pink lips were distended so wide I feared something might snap, and she would sort of peel open like an orange. And yet, I felt, that wasn't all there was to it. It was still quite flaccid, not quite hardened to its peak.

Then the man's eyes popped open. I gaped at him as he caught sight of me. His eyes lit up and Ð I swear this is no boast or exaggeration Ð his cock seemed to swell that little bit further. There was an audible crack, and the black-haired woman popped off his cock like she had been flung from a catapult.

I heard him call "Wait!", but I was already turning away, blundering towards an opening in the slowly curving wall. A bright-eyed young man with tight, curly blonde hair was lolling idly in the archway, and I cannoned into him as I span round, dropping the sheaths of paper I had been carrying.

"Hey, be careful!" he laughed. I blurted out "Do you know where I can find Master Bator?" and when he said he did I asked him to take me there at once. Seconds later, before I could grab even one of the fallen sheets, he was whisking me out of the hall, and up a short flight of stairs. The russet-haired man didn't manage to follow us quickly enough before we disappeared into a small doorway.

I had been so busy looking back over my shoulder to make sure that my pursuer was left behind, I didn't notice where I was being taken. Consequently, it was only when the door was closed that I noticed I was in a small chamber with fine tapestries on every wall, and a circular bed in the centre of the floor. My rescuer and I were not the only occupants, furthermore, there was a couple lounging on the bed, their limbs entwined, drowsily turning to face us.