tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Staff of Radames

The Staff of Radames


A Tale from the Erotic Adventures of Solomon Magus


Arpakshad is a land of exotic wonders.

On any given day---save the Day of Celebration, for that is when all businesses close and all the people remain in their homes, or congregate in their spiritual temples to honor their goddess, Rani---but on most other days, one can travel through the marketplace of the city of Mengesha and meet a variety of merchants from all over the known world, and one can also purchase many different items of interest.

Foodstuffs, utensils, trinkets, jewellery, clothing, weapons, even slaves---all are readily available. Mind you, not all are of good quality, but one can certainly barter for a half-decent price and sometimes a rather rare and beautiful item can be had for less than what it is actually worth.

So it happened that, in this marketplace, I came to purchase the Staff of Radames.

I had not been seeking the artifact. I had not even heard of it. But as I was perusing a variety of tools for sensual pleasure, the merchant woman of this exotic stall approached me with a small box.

"Solomon Magus, it is good to see you again," she said, for I had frequented her store in the past and had, on occasion, shared an evening of pleasure with her. In her early sixties, she stood about a hand's-breadth shorter than I, had light brown skin and hair, yet her eyes were of the brightest azure blue I had ever seen, giving them an almost hypnotic look whenever she gazed into your eyes.

"And you, Jamila," I replied, giving her a warm smile. "You have been prosperous?"

She shrugged. "Not as much as I might hope. But I am doing well. Perhaps I could interest you in this---?" She waved the box at me.

"What shall I do with a box, Jamila?" I inquired with a chuckle.

"My box you may fill any time," she answered with a sly look. "But, nay! it is the contents of the box which I want you to see." That said, she unlocked the lid and flipped it open.

The object within was, to be sure, an intricately and delicately carved representation of some man's erect member, complete with veins and sac and bulbous head. Its total length from tip to base was about the size of my foot.

I looked at Jamila. "And what, pray tell, is this?"

An amused smile crossed her face. "I would have thought you to be familiar with such an item, since, of course, you possess one..."

We both laughed simultaneously, then she continued, "However, this is known as the Staff of Radames which, it has been said, has been well-used and passed down by the five queens of Mizraim."

"Really?" I said as I raised an eyebrow. "And how did it come to be in your possession?"

Jamila coughed. "You know I cannot reveal my sources, Solomon. However, I have it on the best authority that it is a genuine artifact."

"Ah! And is there a story that comes with it?" There usually was.

She shrugged. "Not much of one. According to ancient legends, there was once a magician named Radames who loved an enchantress named Nyla. So great a lover was Radames that Nyla had eyes for no one but him. Then, one day, she caught him dallying with her sister, Thais. Infuriated, Nyla took a short sword, caught Radames by the privates and sliced them off completely.

"Presumably the magician bled to death. At any rate, even before the member could shrink, Nyla cast a spell, solidifying it and turning it into this kanchuka, declaring that although Radames himself could no longer make love to a woman, at least she could be satisfied with the most important part of his anatomy.

"And so, the Staff of Radames was passed down from generation to generation, beginning with Nyla, who gave it to her daughter, and so on, until it came into the possession of the one who gave it to me."

I stared at Jamila. "You really expect me to believe that? Besides, my own member is more than enough for any woman."

"Mmm, yes, indeed!" replied Jamila. "Still, I'm sure it would make a decent present for some lady you know."

"Perhaps. And how much are you asking for it?"

"One thousand gold pieces."

I couldn't help but roar with laughter. "And is the Staff made out of gold that you should ask so much?"

"You're a wealthy man, Solomon. One thousand is nothing to you."

"The Staff's probably not worth anything to begin with, Jamila. I'll give you two hundred for it."

"Solomon!" Jamila exclaimed. "You do me a great injustice. Seven-fifty at the very most."

"Three-fifty," I returned.

"Six-fifty," she offered.


"Five hundred," demanded the merchant with a note of finality. "Plus an hour of pleasure with you."

I grinned. "Well, that's the first time I've ever been asked to barter my pleasuring skills."

"Do we have a deal?"

I sighed heavily. "All right---five hundred plus an hour of pleasure."


It has been said that older women neither want nor enjoy Bliss. Whoever conjectured such a thought has not met Jamila, for behind this rough-hewn, bartering vendor lies a woman with great enthusiasm and energy for sensual pleasure.

Although her time for bearing children had passed, and the natural fluids of her chamber had dried, yet she found ways to make my penetration of her body all the more simpler for her. Wise in the ways of the herbalists, she mixed various oils and creams and applied them to herself so that not only would they make entry easier for myself, but also painless and more sensuous for her.

"Oh, Solomon!" she moaned as I lifted her thighs and rested them on my own. "It has been so long..."

I thrust into her with short jabs, my member reaching to the very core of her body.

"Ah! Yes! Do it now, my love---fill me up with your raging lion!"

I slowed my pace, visualized my staff and murmured the magic words.

Jamila cried aloud with ecstasy as she felt my member suddenly swell and lengthen, plugging her chamber to capacity, pressing against its walls and igniting the fires within her.

"Thrust, my lord!" she called out. "Let me ride your lion as never before, let me feel the warmth of your seed."

I leaned back, supporting her as she sat upon me, forcing my rod even deeper into the chasm if it could do so.

Rocking back and forth, gyrating her hips, she rode me as I pushed up into her. She screamed with joy, and screamed yet again, pounding her buttocks down on the tops of my thighs.

I gasped and groaned until, at length, I too could keep silent no longer. With a shout of Bliss, I exploded within the depths of her channel, the pressure there being so great that my seed sluiced along my tightly-fit shaft and squirted from her box to cover my stomach and thighs, dripping down between my legs.

"Oohhh..." Jamila was beside herself with exuberant pleasure. She fell down upon my chest, her tears of thanks mixing with the sweat upon my neck. I wrapped my arms around her, held her close, comforting her until she fell asleep.


"So, tell me, Jamila," I said a short while later after she awoke and we lay side-by-side on her bed. "Have you ever used the Staff of Radames?"

She gazed at me with a curious look. "Why, no, I haven't. I never thought to do so, really, since it is considered an artifact."

I reached down to the floor, lifted the box. Set it on the sheets. Opened it.

"Would you like to?" I inquired.

She stroked my own staff and replied. "Your own staff is more than adequate for me, Solomon. However, perhaps later..."

I smiled, thanked her for the compliment, closed the lid and set the box back on the floor.

As I lay back against my pillow, Jamila snuggled up to me and closed her eyes. The agreed-upon hour of pleasure had turned into a night...

The following morning, I'd risen early while Jamila still slept to go and have a bath. As I was returning to her bedroom, I heard Jamila moaning, and the sounds were not those of pain.

I did not want to disturb her lest she desired this time alone, so I discreetly peered through the latticework of a small window that adjoined her bedroom to the hallway.

The box on the floor was open. Jamila had removed the Staff of Radames and was now running the kanchuka up and down her body, tracing a line around her nipples, then moving it up to her mouth so that she could suck on the tip while, with her other hand, she stroked her bhagankura---her clitoris---all the while groaning with pleasure.

Now she stopped for a moment, reached for the jar of lubricating cream beside the bed and scooped out a liberal amount, applying it to the Staff of Radames which she then slipped between her legs and pushed slowly into her bhaga. The chamber swallowed the Staff and Jamila thrusted in and out with the instrument, her hips rocking and gyrating as she began to work up a steady rhythm.

I had been getting worked up myself as I watched her and had begun to take hold of my own staff to pleasure myself when I saw something that shrivelled my member in seconds.

Jamila had her eyes closed as she enjoyed the pleasure the Staff brought her when a strange purple glow began to emanate from between her legs, then a billowing cloud flowed up directly above her and solidified into the form of a man attached to the base of the kanchuka and had taken over the plunging movements.

And from the general appearance of this creature, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it could be none other than the tormented spirit of Radames himself.

It thrust into her again and again. I could hear Jamila's cries of ecstasy as she approached her Bliss. It was at that moment the creature's hands snaked around her neck and began squeezing...

I dashed into the room. The Radames creature sensed me, turned its head to look at me, its eyes merely bright lights of violet, its face twisted in a sneer of disdain.

I didn't wait for anything else to happen. My only concern was for Jamila's safety for she had begun to choke and moan all at the same time, not really grasping the full intent of the conflicting emotions she was experiencing, not knowing that at the same time she reached Bliss, her life would also be snuffed out.

I thrust out my hand, spoke two mystic words. Immediately a yellow coil of light spurted forth, spiralled through the air and wrapped itself around the upper torso of this thing that was Radames.

The spirit-creature shrieked in torment, loosened its hold on Jamila's throat and pulled away from her. The Staff popped out of her chamber and the creature tumbled to the floor. The yellow tendrils around its form squeezed tighter. The creature's eyes blazed at me with unholy anger and torment, but it could not free itself.

After another magic word from me, a mystic short sword formed in my hand. I sped forward, grasped the Staff. Fell back as its cream-covered surface slipped through my hand.

The creature attempted to roll away, but I grabbed a piece of cloth and with it, held on to the cursed kanchuka once more. With one fast swipe of the sword, the Staff of Radames parted from its owner. The creature howled in rage, dissolved into a purple cloud and vanished.

I dropped the artifact into the box, slammed the lid shut, then turned to Jamila. Realizing what had happened, she threw her arms around me, sobbed onto my shoulder and thanked me for saving her life.

It was some years later that I learned the full truth of the story behind the artifact. It seems the queens of Mizraim all died under mysterious circumstances, each apparently strangled by some unknown assailant and the kanchuka still lodged in her chamber. No one ever seemed to guess the artifact was cursed and contained the vicious spirit of the ancient lover seeking revenge.

So, the Staff of Radames still lies in its box on my shelf. And there it will remain, sealed, forever.


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