Moira ran her chipped red nails through her raven-colored hair and clenched her deep-set eyes. The brightening room offered her no quarter from the light of the rising sun. The throbbing, stabbing pain was the final payment for a night of revelry and cheap booze. Throwing the heavy duvet over her head she hid from the hangover and hoped the churning in her stomach wouldn’t grow. She didn’t want to start another morning cleaning vomit out of her bed…

But wait, this wasn’t her bed? She slowly slid her hands outward to her sides, feeling for the owner of this fantastically soft, feathered mattress. Tracing the edges of the sheets with her limbs, she slowly explored her surprisingly comfortable and rather expensive surroundings. No body, no heat. Had she slept alone?

She was sure the mystery of who she went home with would be solved soon enough. Silken sheets and a down mattress did not come cheap. So she had gone home with someone well off. That was nice, but who was it? She strained her mind in an attempt to gather clues from her hazy, drunken memories.

“Fuck.” Only pain. Pain and a spinning feeling. Moira abandoned the mystery, content to rest as long as the bed’s true owner would let her. Then she felt it, a faint and growing vibration. “What… damn.” The room felt like it was shaking.

fiiiizzzzzzZZZZZZZZ-KRAKAPOW!* A blinding purple light accompanied the tremendous explosion that seemed to originate mere inches from the foot of the bed. “BEHOLD! YOU ARE MY PRISONER, FAIR MAIDEN! Captured in the tower of the great wiz….”

“FUCK!” Moira shot up in the bed clamping her hands over her ears as the vertigo overtook her. “YOU FUCKING PECKER SHIT!”

“Um…. THE GREAT WIZARD….” The booming voice attempted to continue.

“The tiny knobbed asshole is what you are! Bursting into a lady’s boudoir all pomp and little dick fucking circumstance!” Grabbing a pillow and wrapping it over her head she buried her face deep into the blankets.

The Great Wizard Delorian was not quite prepared for this reaction. He had assumed there would be fear, terror, perhaps even arousal and awe. He didn’t know what to do with being called a ‘pecker shit’. “Ah-HEM!” He banged his staff on the ground.

As the startle had faded, Moira wished to be more civil. So what she most tactfully wanted to convey was; ‘Sir, I assure you that whatever business you have with me, it can wait until I am more presentable.’ But what Delorian heard from her buried head was, “Who da fu doyoo thin yuh are, behgeg mmf en ere? Gawd mmm heh. Goway orile vermert l’over er shits.”

He tapped his foot impatiently. “What are you on about Miss?!”

Moira pulled the sheets off her head, her bloodshot eyes staring the most foul curses imaginable into the wizard as she clarified. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

Chastened, he attempted a softer approach. He still remained quite bombastic in his delivery, even with restraint. “Madam, I am The Great Wizard Delorian. And you are a prisoner in my tower! You shall submit to my dark whims.”

She looked him up and down, considering this. “Huh. Sir. I do consider myself a well-enough educated woman and I am finding myself at a loss. What do you mean by… dark whims, was it?”

Delorian’s face reddened. “My… my dark whims. You know.”

Moira rubbed her temples and closed her eyes again. “No, I surely do not. Please explain to me all about your whims.”

“They’re… you know. About whims. Why a wizard might want a maiden in his tower. So he can… Surely you understand what I’m saying?”

“No, no I do not,” she said suppressing her smirk. “I’m afraid I don’t understand at all. Sir, would you please tell me in precise detail? I’m just a poor country girl, after all. I don’t know anything about a wizard’s dark whims.”

Exasperated he finally blurt out the crux of his desires. “SEX! I’M TALKING ABOUT SEX!”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh. Sugar. Momma’s still got a hangover. So what’s this whole sex thing? I’ve never heard of it before.” Her smile now spread wide across her face, unable to restrain it any longer.

“Are… are you…. you can’t be serious. You must know what… Good lady, you’re making a fool of me, aren’t you?” His face wrinkled in frustration as she burst out into laughter.

Loud, cackling laughter as wicked and manic as any that he’d ever heard. “MWA HA HA HA! ow HA HA! ow. MWA HA…” She collapsed backward and returned to the dark comfort of pulling the blanket over her head. Her sniggering continued for nearly a minute as she finally wound down. She peeked over the blanket and looked at him again. He was puffing his chest out, attempting to look very regal. “Whims,” she whispered, followed by more laughter.

“Listen, you do not seem to comprehend the dire straights you find yourself in!”

“Heh heh. No, I do. I might throw up on this bed. That’s no good. Hey, Darian…”

“DELORIAN!” He growled through clenched teeth.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Ok, Sugar. You have any potion or incantation for… I don’t know… maybe slight alcohol poisoning. Or just some water maybe. Water would be divine.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere until the issue at hand was addressed and not wanting to have to conjure new bedding he muttered to himself in frustration. He lifted the staff, both hands grasping the fine woodwork tightly as be banged it onto the ground. “EVANESCET!” In a flash he dissipated, leaving only a small puff of smoke.

“Huh… alright.” Moira shifted uncomfortably as she scanned the round room. “What an inconsiderate, ungentlemanly son of a bitch. Where’s the chamberpot?”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

Several minutes later the same shaking and fizzling that telegraphed his first arrival began anew. Again the fizzling, lights, and loud boom. And again, Delorian apparated by the bed. His robes billowed behind him as he held out an intricate glass flask filled with a blueish liquid. “I, THE GREAT WIZARD DELORIAN HAVE RETURNED WITH YOUR RESTORATIVE DRAUGHT! AND…. Good gods, woman?! What are you doing?”

Moira was carefully perched on the chair with her dress hiked up and her ass hanging out the window as she performed her business. “What’s it look like, Sugar? The Great Wizard Douglass apparently never thought I might need to piss like a horse at a parade. I have been drinking all night, after all!”

“Delorian! And… I…. um…” He looked around. He had not quite considered this detail.

“Listen, I’ll be with you upon completion of my business.”

She stared at him as he tried to look anywhere but at her. He fumbled with the bottle, looked at the painting on the wall, then started to trace the detailed carvings of his staff with his fingertips. After nearly a minute he asked, “How long is this going to take?”

Moira testily bounced her ass as she shook off the last few drops. “I’m sorry, I never considered my future kidnapper when I won that drinking contest last night. Now do you have…oh. Never mind.” She grabbed the curtains and dabbed her undercarriage.

“MERLIN’S BEARD!” Delorian recoiled in revulsion.

“Merlin’s wrinkled asshole.” She hopped off the chair and snatched the drink from his hand. “There are no facilities to accommodate a lady’s most private business.” Gripping the cork with her teeth, Moira released it from the top of the bottle and spit it onto the floor. “Sugar, is this your first time?”

“I am the great wizard Delorian, Madam. I’ve had… dozens… no…. hundreds of women in my tower!” His voice had an uncharacteristic shakiness as she locked eyes with him.

He nearly fell backward as she lifted her knee and planted her foot on the bed beside him. Her body, her ample bosom, brushed against his chest. Despite being a head taller, he nearly cowered as he felt the heat from her thick, shapely thighs that were liberated from the long slits on either side of her dress.

With a wink, she threw back the bottle. His eyes watched as half the blue liquid disappeared in one large glug.

Another gulp spilled a line of blue potion from the corner of her mouth. Running down her cheek, then her neck, it finally teasingly remained rested on the crease where those enchanting breasts met.

With a third and final quaff, her bosom heaved and the blue line followed her curves and disappeared down her stays. Delorian’s sagacious eyes shot to the wet, pink tongue that extended from her parted lips. She patiently waited for the last drop of cobalt potion to succumb to gravity. Satisfied, she pushed the bottle back into his hand. “Nu-uh.”

“What?”

“Nu-uh.” She turned away from the wizard, her round ass swayed as she sauntered to the window. “Sugar, we both know you’re fibbin’. You have never enjoyed a female caller in your tower.”

“How… how dare you!” With a wave of his staff, a small purple portal appeared. He dropped the empty flask into it. “Of all the…. how dare you!”

“Oh, I dare. Now listen Sugar, how long are you planning on keeping me here.”

“Why, forever of course!”

She stared him dead in the eyes. “Forever. Forever?! Oh, no no no! You are in no way ready for that sort of commitment! My clothes stink of bad liquor and good cigars, there is no mirror, let alone a comb to run through my hair, I have not even been offered a decent meal…. No Sugar. Uh-uh. This is no way to entertain a lady.”

“I… I take care of those things with magic!” He proclaimed matter-of-factly. “And why do you seem to be such an expert on this?”

“HA!” Moira snorted. “Do you really think you are the first wizard to whisk Moira Bellmont back to their tower?”

He sat dejectedly on the bed. “I mean… I assumed it was.”

“Ah, my precious little gumdrop. Come now. There are at least six other wizard towers in this county alone! All of them full of… amorous intellectuals, much like yourself.” She raised up on her bare toes and leaned out the window, peering down across the city, trying to discern her location. “OH! This is that brand-new tower. The Periwinkle Penis!”

“EXCUSE ME!”

“Yeah, I know where I’m at now.”

“Did you call my fantastical tower of conjuration… The Periwinkle Penis?”

“No, I didn’t call it that.” She said as she went and sat beside him. “Everyone in town does. I personally feel it’s more of a cerulean color but folks do love their alliteration.”

He raked his fingers through his messy red hair. “My god, it’s not a… a…”

“Penis.” Moira returned her attention to the distressed mage.

“Yes, it’s not a penis!”

“Well, it certainly looks like one.” She scooted closer to him. “Maybe next time go for a pointed or flat roof. The rounded looks like… you know…” She reached out and grabbed his staff, feigning an unenthusiastic handjob followed by an unceremonious, “Thhbbbt.”

“GODS!” He snatched away his staff from her hands and angrily stood up.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re all pretty phallic really.”

“Hmmph!” He turned away and looked out the window, trying desperately to not acknowledge what he knew was on the wet stone sill.

“Oh come on now, don’t be that way,” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. And let me tell you, that was one fabulous potion. My hangover is completely gone. You’re doing very, very well for yourself, Sugar!”

“Hmph!” Again he did a very large flourishing display to show he was ignoring her.

The awkward silence seemed to grow deeper as she searched for a way to break the tension. He was young, for a wizard. Early thirties, not a bad build really as far as she could tell through the robes. His baby wizard goatee had a certain charm to it. “So… about these dark whims.”

“Will you please cease your mockery!” He whirled around ostentatiously, only to recede into wide-eyed speechlessness.

Moira lay on her side, lounging in the center of the bed. Had Delorian been in a position of greater experience he might have known that looking so casually seductive was actually quite difficult. As it was, the mage was quite powerless against the carefully crafted temptations she used to overwhelm his senses.

Those legs, those perfect legs lay bare before him. Her toes were painted the same red as her fingers and they playfully tugged at the sheets. The seductive topography of her curves drew his eyes up her shapely calves, past those pleasingly thick thighs, and to the treasures of her womanhood which was barely guarded by the cruel strip of dress.

She had made sure as much skin was shown while leaving only the tiniest bit to his imagination. Pointing her toes and bending her knees, there was almost cold calculation involved in creating the ideal shape for her limbs.

Delorian’s gaze went upward. Those wondrous orbs of tantalizing flesh nearly spilled out of her stays. He couldn’t tell if it was a dark sliver of areola he spied or simply his intense desire for it to be so warping his perception of where garment meant skin.

Of course, she had made sure her bosom which she was so proud of was on full display. She pitched the girls forward with an uncomfortable arching of the back. The vacant way his mouth hung open meant the effect was quite worth the effort.

Her sweet, welcoming face which had instantly befuddled him in the bar looked longingly at him. Her large, brown eyes drew his gaze.

Moira executed her coup de gras, a clever batting of her lashes as she smiled bewitchingly. “Oh Sugar, I was only teasing.” Patting the empty space of bed she had left for him, she asked, “Now, do you think I was getting shit-faced at the bar because I was planning to go home alone? Why don’t you come sit close to me and tell me what you have in mind?”

He cautiously returned to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. His posture was as straight and rigid as the staff he held. “Well…. um… I was going…” She curled inward, he could feel the warmth of her body closing in around him.

Delorian anxiously diverted his attention toward the window, but he couldn’t help but try and discreetly steal glimpses of his companion. From the corner of his eye, he strained to see those legs, wondering how it would feel to have them coiled around his body. To the left, that pretty visage peered upward as her bosom rose and fell with her breath. Of course, the way his eyes darted the side and snapped back forward made it more obvious if anything, but Moira pretended not to notice. “Go on, what were you going to do with me?”

“I was going…” His breathing became heavier, almost a pant. “I am! I am going to…” Her intoxicating aroma, like leather, honey, and ale turned his mind to a euphoric mess. “I am going to open your mind,” he spoke through sharp gasps. His voice grew more meek with each word. “Open your mind, to the arts… of the…” He had become so quiet it was no longer possible to make out his whimpering mumbles.

“Oh, one more time. I didn’t quite get that.” She reached forward, dancing the tips of her fingers playfully on his knee. He squirmed uncomfortably as he realized that ever so slowly the ticklish sensation was moving up his thigh.

“I’m going to…” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to open your mind to the arts of the tantric and arcane.”

The fingers stopped, and Moira took a moment to consider this. “Oh. well. Now what exactly does that mean? In layman’s terms if you please.”

“Well…. sex.”

“Yes, yes. We’ve already established that. But what would you say makes it arcane and tantric, exactly?” Her hand renewed its playful exploration. Moira knew she was making this hard for him. It was arousing to see men of power reduced to flustered shells before her.

With renewed determination, he explained, “You see… by weaving together the forces of lust into a deep tapestry of spells I intend to connect our minds and bodies and extend them to the planes of thought that few mortals dare tread. Your…. um…” Her hand was dancing higher on his leg, and rather purposefully moving upward and inward.

“Go on, Sugar.” He was squirming and beads of sweat began to run down his face. It was endearing how he tried so seriously to resume his lecture while visibly falling apart.

“I shall deliver an earthshAAATERING….” his voice swelled nearly to a shout as her soft fingers traced the outline of the bulge in his robes. He dropped the staff to the ground while attempting to stay in control of the moment. “Orgasms! Earth-shattering orgasms… of both mind and spirit.”

“Oh, now that does sound interesting.” Moira slid off the bed and onto her feet. She reached to the strap on her shoulder and with one pull the tie came undone. “Complicated, but fascinating.”

Delorian stared up at her, like a desperate worshiper begging before their alter. He gulped and asked, “If that’s alright with you?”

“You would do all that, for little me? Aren’t you just the sweetest thing!” Her fingers traced down and across her collarbone, and then up to the last fabric knot that held her dress to her body. With a small tug of the string, her garment fell to the stone floor.

His loins ached in longing as he stared. She loosened the laces of her stays, freeing the twin hills of desire as she lifted the supportive garment above her head and tossed it aside. She liked the way it felt, to be so desperately desired as Delorian’s blue eyes greedily jumped from one miraculous part of her to another. As he finally lingered on the curly dark crown over her cunt he wanted nothing more than to say something clever and suave. Yet his awesome intellect failed him, his voice weakly pleading one word as she pushed him onto his back. “Moira.”

He felt the softness of her skin as she straddled him. She stretched skyward, shaking away the tightness in her limbs. Moira gently observed, “That seems like a lot of pressure on you, Sugar.” Leaning forward she allowed her pert nipples to graze the skin of his lips. She suggested, “Why don’t you let me take the lead for now? We’ll put a bookmark in the arcane arts… and go for something that comes a little more naturally…” She lowered her hips onto him, he felt the heat and the dampness of her through his robes, surrounding his cock.

“OH OH OH! Gods! I’m Sorry… I’m…” His dick throbbed from underneath his robe. A slightly sticky dampness could be felt against her thigh. “I’m so sorry, I’m…”

Moira’s face was bright with pride. Leaning in, she quieted him with a deep kiss. “Shhhh…” She whispered gently between kisses. “It’s OK. I know what I look like, what I do to men. Besides, I thought you were keeping me here forever. That means we have plenty of time.”

Moira remained calm, patient, and nurturing. For the first time since he arrived, Delorian’s shoulders began to relax. She took him by the hand and guided it to her tits. She gratefully moaned as he explored their warmth and weight, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Her hips pressed downward, gently grinding him as he soon became hard again. She nodded in approval. “Good… now be a good boy and take off that robe. Sugar, I’m about to show you something truly magical…”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

THIRD FULL MOON, THE YEAR 322 OF THE DRAGON,

THE JOURNAL OF DELORIAN THE WIZARD, NO… ARCH WIZARD!

TODAY I HAVE ASCENDED! I, WITH MY MIGHTY STAFF, HAVE CHARGED INTO THE FIELD OF LUSTFUL ENGAGEMENT…. WITH A WOMAN! TRULY THERE IS NOTHING THAT CAN NOT BE ACHIEVED! SHE BROKE ME WITH HER BODY AND FROM THAT I AROSE ANEW!

I HAVE LET MY DEAREST MOIRA ESCAPE…. FOR NOW! IT WOULD BE UNFAIR TO SUBJECT HER TO SUCH RAVISHES EVERY NIGHT. THE SHEER BLISSFUL POWER I WIELD WOULD BREAK THE POOR GIRL’S MIND. SHE SAID THAT MAYBE SHE’LL SEE ME AGAIN SOMETIME!

TASKS FOR TOMORROW: CHARM PIGEON, HAVE PIGEON WASH THE SIDE OF THE TOWER. BEGIN RENOVATION, HAVING DAMSEL WING AND BOTANY WING EXCHANGED. RE: PLUMBING AVAILABLE ON 9TH FLOOR. CREATE TONIC TO EXTEND THE USERS… ERM… LUSTFUL ENDURANCE

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

Moira sunk her teeth into the chewy mutton from her bowl of stew, the tavern once again starting to come to life as the sky over the city began to darken.

“Hey there, little lady. How was your night? I didn’t recognize that gentleman you went home with?” The buxom woman behind the bar gave her a wink.

Moira looked out the window, to the large cerulean tower in the distance. “Eh, decent.”