Of Magic and Mayhem Ch. 01

He stalked through the cobbled streets, frustration crackling in the air around him. Daemon Michael barely noticed those he passed; the men, women and children who stared at the large man and scurried for cover as they spied that which followed him. Nor did he pay any heed to the bending of the air around him as the channels of power split to let him pass. None dared to approach him, but that was to be expected; everything about him told of his nature.

He paused as the narrow street opened onto the central square, his dark eyes scanning the booths and tables set up by the city vendors. The creature that had been trailing him hissed as it alighted on his shoulder, a serpentine neck wrapping loosely around Daemon's. Absently, he raised a hand to scratch at the eye ridge of the small dragon.

"Soon, my friend, you'll be too big for your perch. Then what will we do?" Daemon's rich baritone held a hint of amusement as his companion's tail wrapped around his waist.

The sorcerer frowned and moved to the left around the square, his eyes darting back and forth, searching. His frustration grew with each step, the waves of it buffeting those within ten yards of the predatory duo. Suddenly, a black wing fluttered excitedly and Daemon found himself looking into the golden eyes of a very agitated dragon. He stopped, going completely still as the creature fed its thoughts to the sorcerer's mind. It took less than a second and Daemon frowned as he returned to himself.

"Why would they not have them in the center like all the other cities we've visited?" the question was quietly murmured, an afterthought as Daemon's feet carried him towards the northeast corner of the square.

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Katya regained consciousness with a gasp. Slowly, she sat up, a soft metallic noise drawing her attention to the iron band around her ankle. The girl frowned, her fingers playing slowly across the cool metal. Similar bands encircled her wrists and her brows furrowed in confusion. Carefully, she raised her head and her green eyes widened. Bars...she was in a cage. She spun on the ball of her left foot and took in the cluster of cages around her own; they were all empty.

"What is happening?" the words echoed in her head.

"Ah, ye're awake," a wizened old man cackled with delight as his eyes roamed her body with a malicious gleam.

Katya nodded slowly, a shiver wracking her small frame and drawing her attention to her clothing. If it could be considered clothing; nothing more than two scraps of fabric held together by thin straps. The garment was nearly transparent and the tattered hem fell just below the tops of her thighs. The dark green was faded and the fabric torn in several places.

The girl felt the heat of a blush burning her cheeks and quickly crossed her arms over her chest, much to the delight of her jailor. She turned her eyes to him, quickly extinguishing the blaze of anger to regard him with a cooly questioning stare.

"No reason to worry, girl," the words did little to comfort her accompanied as they were by a laugh that made the hair at the nape of her neck lift, "The square just needs a little entertainment," he looked her up and down, "That'd be you."

Katya stiffened, her eyes closing against the fury she knew was seething there.

The old man lowered his voice to a threatening hiss, "Word is, ye've danced for kings and queens. Today, girl, ye'll dance for us common folk and believe me when I say it'd best be yer finest performance."

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As the corner of the square opened suddenly Daemon paused. Jagged black rock erupted from the ground to form a natural courtyard. The area was nearly circular and cast in the shadows of twilight. Those shadows, made denser by the high walls, presented an atmosphere of lurking danger that those who claimed the courtyard as their own took pleasure in using to their advantage. Cages filled a full third of the area, carefully arranged to give customers room to examine what they held. His dark eyes flickered as they followed the curve of the rough stone, taking note of the various unpleasant devices set against the wall where the shadows were darkest.

"Typical slavers' den but the cages are empty," Daemon looked to the dragon in confusion, cursing as it launched from his shoulder to find a vantage point above the crowd.

The sorcerer frowned. The open areas reserved for bidders were filled with people, so many that a person was unable to move without brushing against someone.

"Independent sale," Daemon turned to the right to acknowledge the source of the information.

"Ah, that makes more sense," the sorcerer raised an eyebrow in question and was met with a low rumble of laughter.

"Neither sorcerers nor dragons scare me, sir," the old woman was genuinely amused, "However, I think that is not the question foremost in your mind. The seller is known to bring in the exotic and so draws a crowd," the unmistakable sound of a whip meeting flesh cracked above the din and the woman cringed, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I'm guessing today's crowd is larger than usual; the man refused perusal of the merchandise prior to sale, something he's not done before."

The woman lay an age deformed hand on his forearm, "You'd best draw in your power, you'll want to be as close to the block as possible."

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The crowd fell immediately silent as the slaver took the block. His wizened face split into a delighted grin as he saw the enormity of the crowd, pale eyes filled with greed. His left hand held a chain, its strength deceptive in the size of the links, his right a cruel flogger. Only the most astute took note of the care in his movements and the slight limp that affected his normally arrogant swagger.

"Gentlemen, " he looked over the crowd, "ladies, by now I am sure ye are all curious as to the treasure I have found and brought to yer fine city. Let me tell ye all this, a rarer find will never be had, at least not on this world. An exquisite creature, the embodiment of grace and beauty, but I do not expect ye to trust my word. Instead ye will see for yerself afore the bidding begins."

He yanked hard on the chain, jerking the girl forward, her lithe body seemed to flow like water to the center of the small platform. Small bells adorned her body, encircling her wrists, ankles, waist and even threaded through her hair. The thick copper curls cascaded across her shoulders, tumbling to fall to her waist. Those who could see her clearly felt themselves entranced by sight and sound.

She stood silently, pride infusing every line of her lithe body. Unlike the others this slaver had brought across the block, the dancer held her head high -- an unwavering gaze fixed on a distant point above the crowd.

A voice called out, promising to tame the delectable creature before the sale commenced, and the slaver snarled jerking violently on the chain.

"Head down, slave, show yer Masters and Mistresses the proper respect."

The dancer slid effortless to the left, her bells chiming softly, but neither her head nor her eyes lowered.

Eyes now narrowed cruelly, the slaver placed a foot on the length of chain and exerted a slow, steady pull, drawing the girl down. The dancer fell gracefully to her knees, though still her gaze remained steady. Her captor moved to stand behind her, the tails of his flogger draped haphazardly over her shoulder as the heat of his anger rolled over her in waves. Bending close to her ear, fetid breath washing over her cheek, he hissed, "Enough of yer games," then loud enough for the crowd to hear, "Ye will dance for us, will ye not?"

A ghost of a smile curved her lips as she nodded her agreement; green eyes going molten silver moments before they closed.

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Daemon paid no heed to the proceedings on the auction block; he had been to enough slave sales to imagine the whimpering, scared woman being displayed to the crowd. Instead, he carefully wound his way between the bodies of men and women all the while muttering beneath his breath. The sorcerer had nearly reached the end of his patience when a hand on his forearm halted him in mid-stride.

"You'll not want to give yourself away just yet," the old woman murmured, "He pushes his property too far."

Daemon looked down, but the hand and its owner were gone. A scowl began to form on his face but was interrupted as his eyes widened and his gaze swiveled to the block. He nearly missed it, the subtle shift in power -- would have missed it except for the alluring, unmistakeably feminine chuckle echoing in his subconscious. Stunned, Daemon narrowed his gaze bringing the girl on the block into better focus. He noted the mischievous smile and the quicksilver change of her eyes, but only because discerning subtleties could be the difference between a full life and a slow death in his line of work. The sorcerer cursed, this time loud enough to startle those standing beside him.

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A soft, lilting melody filled the minds of the men and women gathered in the courtyard. The dancer swayed, her body flowing gracefully with the innocent sound. Her movements told a story, of noblemen and peasants. Suddenly, without warning, the music changed, the rhythm becoming driven and anxious. The girls movements followed the same pattern as her feet hurriedly took her from one end of the small stage to the other. The air was fraught with tension and it was obvious to those who watched that this dance told the story of her capture.

Daemon watched from his position, just to the left of center stage, his eyed narrowed. He could feel the building tension and knew it came from the dancer and her manipulation of the channels. He felt as much as heard the crescendo and wondered where it led while knowing he couldn't let it reach its apex. Cautiously, the sorcerer sent out a thin tendril of his own power to snake across the block and lightly caress her ankle.

She nearly stumbled before pulling her foot away from the questing touch. She twirled and allowed her eyes to open just a fraction to seek out the source of her disturbance. Failing in that endeavor she fell back to her dance and continued the story of her capture. She dipped and swayed across the block, the slowness of her motions allowing the audience to see and feel her exhaustion as the chase draws to an end. Finally, she is subdued, her lithe body curled motionless on the rough wood.

Daemon chose that moment to send out another thin tendril, this time allowing it to move quickly across the block to brush against her inner thigh. He felt more than saw the sharp intake of breath as her own manipulation of power slapped away his curious probing. Daemon found himself chuckling under his breath. The little dancer had spirit and soon she would be his to tame.

The music was lethargic and seemingly discordant as the dancer stirred. Slowly she rose, her arms flailing wildly as she conveyed her confusion and dismay to the crowd. As her movements began to calm, the melody took an ominous turn and suddenly she froze, her head held high, a sneer twisting her lips.

It was time. Daemon knew that her dance had reached the point of no return and sent that tendril of power to skim softly up her leg and cup her core. He watched in fascination as the girl's entire body arced and those silver eyes opened without seeing. Another line of magic coaxed the girl to glide across the block until she was directly in front of him.

Her breath came in short gasps as her body reacted to the invasive touch. None had ever dared to take such liberties with her person and the warm wave of pleasure pulsing between her legs left her confused and uncertain. She felt herself move across the stage, felt the magic as it pressed her to her knees before drawing her head back to rest against the wooden boards. With her attention focused between her legs, the voice echoing in her head startled her.

"You are mine." the tone of the voice brooked no argument, "Dance for me and only me."

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She had no time to think, no time to consider her next action as the sensation between her legs grew more insistent. The music which now merely brushed the subconscious of her audience was heavy with a throbbing beat matching the pulsations pooling deep in her belly. She rolled to her side and with a feline stretch rose to her feet. Her hips swayed from side to side as her hands slid seductively up her stomach to cup her breasts for a moment before lifting her hair above her head. She turned slowly so her back was to the crowd, her hips beginning a frenzied shimmy as her own power sliced through the thin straps holding the fabric to her body. Her movements caused the fabric to pool at her feet and she kicked it away as she completed her turn.

She stilled as she faced the crowd wearing nothing but the bells in her hair. Daemon could see the faint rise of color in her cheeks and smiled to himself. Her breasts were small, but firm and ripe for a man's attention. As if aware of his perusal, her nipples drew into tight buds and a small shiver made its way down her spine. Perspiration had risen, a light mist covering her body and his eyes watched as an overzealous drop tracked between her breast to disappear into the cleft between her thighs. Inhaling deeply, Daemon caught her scent, an odd mixture of innocence, arousal and power which nearly wrung a groan from deep in his throat. He chuckled and flicked his fingers.

Her lips parted as his energy flickered against her most sensitive anatomy and her body tensed painfully. It was all the instruction she needed and the girl let the heavy tresses slither through her fingers like a copper waterfall. She pushed her hands down across her chest as her body slowly undulated. Having no experience with what her body was telling her, she let it lead her into a dance of innocent seduction.

The sorcerer watched with unspoken approval. She was a virgin, that much was readily apparent in her dance and the discordant jingle of bells. He was surprised that she didn't attempt to fight him or at least wrest back some control. Instead she let her mind recede to the background and acted purely on instinct. Activity at the far end of the stage drew him from his musings and he watched as a large wooden pole was secured at the center of the block. His lips curled in a feral smile and he settled to see what his dancer would make of the addition to her scenery.

She circled it, once, twice, three times before reaching out a tentative hand to lightly stroke the polished surface. She backed away before hesitantly gliding forward, her hands now clasped tightly behind her back. Her head tilted slightly and she waited, her hips swaying.

"You may," the voice answered her unspoken question with quiet authority and the torment between her thighs receded to coil around her wrists.

Slowly the girl leaned forward to nuzzle the dark wood with uncertainty. The pole's surface was smooth with a satiny feel and unexpectedly warm beneath her sensitive skin. Lightly, she pressed her lips to it, sighing with pleasure at the sensation. A brief tug on bindings at her wrists brought a slight frown to her face before the words whispered through her mind.

"You must dance, my beautiful darling, and show us your appreciation more openly."

She nodded almost to herself, but Daemon caught the movement and shifted his weight more comfortably on his heels to see the performance. She nuzzled the pole one last time before arching her back to caress its length with the whole of her body. A flush raised on her skin as her breasts parted to cradle the large staff between them. The crowd watched avidly as she slid away leaving the dark wood glistening. The dancer's feet carried her nimbly around the large pole as her body swayed, her hips rocking forward to just a breath away before swinging away. Her tempo gradually increased as did the pulsing heat deep within her belly and beads of moisture began a slow descent down her inner thighs.

Suddenly, the music paused and the girl stilled a body's length away, her breathing labored from her efforts. Slowly she lowered herself to her knees and stretched forward until her lips were inches from the warm surface. How she managed it no one in the crowd was quite certain, but for all appearances it seemed she slithered forward, wrapping herself around the thick staff as she rose to her feet. From his seat Daemon grinned for he had felt the surge of power which masked her less than graceful rush forward and seen through it. His little dancer, innocent though she was, was quite the wanton. He watched as she lifted a knee and wrapped it loosely around the column of wood. Pressing herself against the warmth she began raising and lowering her body, stroking her most private parts and increasing her own arousal.

With superb control, she arched back, continuing her rise and fall along the pole, until her hair brushed the block. From this position those closest to the stage could see the rosy tips of her nipples, drawn up into hard little pebbles and slightly chafed. Eventually, she lowered herself to the floor and and lifted herself to her hands and knees. The smooth wood pressed against her buttocks and teased her swollen mound. The girl shuddered as she ground her hips back trying to get closer.

Daemon knew it was time to bring the show to a quick end or the crowd would become violent in their wanting of her. His power left her wrists to coil gently around her neck coaxing her to crawl across the stage until she was directly in front of him. He was surprised when she leaned forward of her own will, presenting the perfect picture of submission. He watched for a moment as small shivers of tension raced across her skin before filling her mind with a final command.

"Cum for me and only me...the audience does not exist. Only I exist for you from this point forward."

Her lips opened in a silent scream as her body convulsed in pure pleasure. Though she did not lift from her position of obeisance, she rocked back and forth as she rode the sensations overwhelming her body. Her nipples already hard from her time at the pole, tightened further as they rubbed along the stage increasing the intensity of her orgasm. A liquid pool of desire had accumulated on the boards before she was done and Daemon couldn't fight the need to taste it, using his finger as a spoon. She tasted like morning dew, fresh and clean and the sorcerer moaned low in his throat. Tossing a sack of coins on the auction block, he quickly gathered the limp girl in his arms and left.