Jay Friday
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The Thaumaturge [Chapter 18: ...and Enemies]
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 13:00:17 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: A shorter chapter this week, but only because it ends with an important choice. ;)
In the end, deciding what I should ask Lauren to focus on next was actually an easy choice.
I had to learn more about thaumaturgy. That was foundational.
It was like jiu-jitsu, I decided. Sure, it was nice when you picked up some cool new trick, some new defense or guard that was especially effective.
But what really mattered -- the thing that mattered more than any specific technique -- was knowing how to grow quickly in jiu jitsu.
The ring Lauren had me was great. I was sure she could improve it; sure she could make any number of other useful things.
But how much easier could all of that be, if I was more powerful?
I fired off a text to Lauren. I felt a little bad; she'd just finished the ring prototype for me earlier today, and here I was with another request. So I told her she didn't need to drop everything; just that when she had a minute, this was what I hoped she could spend time on next.
And then I left my room to rejoin the party, hoping to run a little experiment of my own on how to get more powerful.
---
I'd been worried that Viv's presence might make it harder to hook up with Michelle, Alyssa's attractive friend from the tattoo parlor.
I shouldn't have.
Michelle locked eyes with me the second I stepped back out into the living room. She was standing by the beer pong table, a fresh drink in her hand. Her heels and skin-tight jeans put her peach of an ass and long legs on full display. Her tank top clung to her torso and chest like .
She had a little flush on her cheeks—whether from booze or because she was excited to see me, I wasn’t sure, but I liked either option. When she grinned, it was half challenge, half invitation.
I gave everyone in the living room a little wave of greeting.
Alyssa caught the movement and came over. “Viv gone already? That was fast. I didn't even get to talk to her, really.”
I shrugged. I responded to Alyssa absentmindedly, my eyes still on Michelle. “Viv had to run. Long week.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes, following my line of sight. “Gotcha. Well, can you not fuck my coworker?”
I pulled my gaze off Michelle, back to Alyssa. "You made a comment about this earlier, too. I'm a little surprised this is bothering you. Is it really an issue if I do?"
Alyssa hesitated. "I just feel like lately you've really been having...whatever the opposite of a dry spell is."
"A wet spell?" I suggested.
"...And you've also become disgusting." Alyssa frowned, then sighed. "Look, I just feel like...well, like I don't know you as well as I used to. But hey, you're two consenting adults. Just promise not to do anything that makes it weird for me at work, okay?"
That gave me pause. I had changed. Matt-from-two-weeks-ago would never have been this cavalier about hooking up with two women in one night. Matt-from-two-weeks-ago would've been thrilled to hookup with one or two women this summer.
I saw her point, but I wasn't about to tell her that . So I nodded soberly. "I'll admit, I'm having much more luck with the ladies this summer than I expected." And then I gave her an affectionate grin. "But it's still me, Alyssa. And I promise not to make things weird for you at work, okay? "
"Okay," she relented. "If you guys do hook up, I do not want details, though. At all."
She gave my shoulder a little push. “Now go get another drink, Casanova.”
I nodded, and headed towards the kitchen.
---
Michelle trailed after me, idly. I could feel her presence in the room behind me as I went to the fridge to grab a fresh beer. When I turned around, she was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me.
"Your girlfriend isn't staying the night?" Michelle mock-pouted.
Well, I didn't consider myself an especially smooth-talker. But I'd kind of expected this, after our banter when Michelle had first arrived.
And I had to admit: I was feeling pretty good about myself. Alyssa was right; I had changed.
Now that the business with my orgasms being locked away was behind me, I was having a really good time. Becoming a powerful sex wizard with an enormous penis will do that, I suppose.
So I was confident when I replied.
"Oh, she's not my girlfriend," I said, cheerfully.
Michelle look pleased by this news, if a little quizzical. "Why'd you invite her to the party, then?"
"We had some important things to discuss," I said, soberly.
Michelle snorted. "Yeah, I bet. A serious dickscussion."
I laughed. "The best kind of discussion," I agreed, amiably. I cracked my beer, sipped at it.
Michelle looked like she wasn't quite what to make of how blasé I was being about all this.
Good, I thought. After a week of feeling like I barely had my feet under me, it was nice to put somebody else off-balance.
"C'mon," I said. "Let's play some beer pong."
"Fine," she said, recovering. "But I'm not carrying you like your pretty blonde friend. Happy to kick your ass instead, though."
---
Michelle didn't have Viv's preternatural aptitude for the game, and it meant we were evenly matched.
Which she was enjoying immensely. She was constantly trash talking, shoulders thrown back, laughing when I missed, her eyes always on mine. “Come on, Matt,” she teased, “is that all you’ve got? I figured you'd be better at getting it in."
I bit back a laugh. "Look, you don't just want to sink it in right away, Michelle. I've found women sometimes like it when you play around a little bit. Build up the anticipation, you know. I can show you if you don't understand."
I made the next shot. Her eyes sparkled.
I was, I realized, enjoying myself also. There was something really nice about not having to deal with the...magical bullshit. The transfer of power, the sense that it was transactional, the confusing mix of sex and power dynamics. Just me, flirting with a pretty girl at a party, who was flirting back.
And she was pretty, I thought. I watched her toss her hair back as she lined up her next shot in beer pong, staring at the way the tank top clung to her torso, her thighs in those jeans. I could feel the trajectory of the evening taking shape: more flirting, then back to my room...
She caught me looking. "What?"
"Nothing. Just, uh, thinking maybe we should have a...discussion later. A serious one."
She started laughing; she missed her next shot.
We continued like that for a while; just banter and beer pong, her friends and my roommates periodically chiming in.
She did end up winning, sinking her final two shots in a single toss each. She pumped her fist. "Ha!" And then she swept over, predatory and athletic, long dark hair tumbling over her shoulders appealingly. "Looks like I came out on top," she gloated, a glimmer in her eye.
I gave her a grin, but decided not to follow up with the joke she'd clearly teed up. Instead I nodded, sighing as if saddened. "Alas. I am defeated."
"Glad to hear you admit it." She grinned. "I do like a man who knows when to tap out."
"That's...actually not really a strength of mine, generally," I admitted, laughing.
She arched an eyebrow. "Really? We should talk about that."
"Time for that discussion, huh?"
She gave me a wink. "I think so. Lead the way."
I pulled her away from the table, down the hall to my room.
---
I had barely closed the door behind her when she was on me, pushing me up against the door. Her tits pressed against my chest, firm and fuller than I expected, the tank top thin enough that it felt like her skin was against mine. Their round softness was a contrast to the coiled, tense muscle on the rest of her frame. She was eye level with me.
I had to admit that if Viv hadn't told me that nobody at the party was magical, Michelle might've given me pause, made me nervous. The way she moved was unmistakably athletic and graceful; she wouldn't have been out of place with Brooke and the other werelions. But apparently she trained MMA; maybe that was why.
And, anyway, I was much more concerned with the way her body currently felt against mine. My cock was reacting already.
Michelle murmured in my ear. "Alyssa says the women seem to love you lately, that it's not just Viv, there are others...some girl named Lauren, too..."
That did give me pause, made me wonder if something else was going on with Alyssa. "Alyssa sure is...focused on who I'm sleeping with, these days," I said, guardedly.
Michelle laughed, low and throaty. "Well, don't blame her too much. I may have asked her a few pointed questions right after I saw you. Background research, I guess; I don't like to waste my time," she whispered. "What do you think all these ladies see in you?"
I reached down, and grabbed the tight, pert muscle of her ass. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" I put a challenge in my voice.
"Mmm. I was hoping you'd say that."
Michelle simultaneously pushed her ass back into my hands and kissed her way down my neck, to my collarbone; then down my abdomen, until she was kneeling in front of me.
As she moved down my body, I shifted my focus internally, taking stock of how I felt. Viv had certainly drained my reserves of power, but I could feel a little...left in the tank, as it were.
And I could feel my libido surging, eager and ready.
My sense of the well of magic in me -- mostly empty, but slowly replenishing itself -- was clearer. The distinction between magic and my sexual appetite -- that I was low on magic, high on arousal -- was sharper, easier to perceive now that I was looking for it.
And then Michelle undid my belt buckle and pulled down my pants and the moment of introspection was over.
"Damn." There was admiration in her voice as my cock -- already well on its way to being hard -- sprang out. "You're fucking hung, huh? Nice."
The matter-of-fact appreciation with which she assessed my cock made my pulse accelerate.
So did the confident way she wrapped first one hand, and then the other, around my shaft, as if playfully appraising just how much cock she was dealing with. “Shit, Matt, if I were Alyssa, I'd be warning my friends off too,” she said, squeezing gently, her thumb tracing the prominent vein running up my length. "A girl could get obsessed."
I let out a laugh that turned into a hissed intake of breath as she flicked her tongue out running it up my shaft. "We can take it slow if you're worried it's too much," I said, when I could speak again.
"Oh, I'm not really a take-it-slow kind of girl. And I think it's just the right amount of cock for me," she said. She brushed her lips, teasingly, along the head, before looking up at me, competition gleaming in her eyes. "I'm just wondering if you'll be as easy to finish off as you were in beer pong."
And then she bobbed her mouth down onto my cock.
I tried to hold myself back. I didn't want a blowjob; I wanted to fuck her. I needed to test whether or not a normal woman counted as the kind of conquest Callistryllaxia was talking about, and I didn't think a blowjob would count.
But she wasn't wasting any time — her tongue swept along the underside of my cock, slow and deliberate. I hissed through my teeth, leaning back against the door to my room for balance.
Her lips slid over the head, taking me in, warm and wet and so deliciously tight. She bobbed down, taking more of me with each stroke, her tongue swirling, lips sealing around the width of my shaft. Her eyes were locked on mine, the same look she'd had while we'd been playing beer pong -- a heat in her gaze that said she wanted to win.
I fought the urge to buck my hips, trying to keep up with her. "Fuck, Michelle. Your mouth is unreal." The words came out rougher than I'd intended.
She felt incredible. It made me really glad that Viv had been by earlier. I could feel that the pressure, the need to orgasm, felt different without my magic being on the verge of spilling over. I could feel myself speeding towards the edge, still, but if Viv hadn't drained me so thoroughly I probably would've been cumming all over the place already.
And I wanted to fuck her. Wanted to see if this was a way to gain power.
She pulled off my cock briefly, gasped for air, and then latched back onto it. this time going deeper; I could feel her throat around me, hear the obscene choking noise she was making as she shoved my cock further inside her. I stared, intoxicated by the way her lips stretched, the way her hand twisted at the base, her other hand sliding up my thigh to steady herself. Every movement was purposeful, and even though her eyes were watering now, they were still locked on mine — she wanted to win this, to make me lose control on her terms.
And if she kept going, I knew she'd get what she wanted in no time.
So, after another thirty seconds or so of some of the best head I'd received in my entire life, I forcibly pulled her off me. She looked up at me, grinning, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What's wrong?"
I did my best to make my voice controlled, level, but there was an edge to it I couldn't hold back. "Nothing's wrong. I just want to fuck you."
She hesitated a moment, but then gave me a wild, carefree smile. "So let's fuck, then."
She stood up and started stripping off her clothes. I stared for a long moment as her body came into view -- her tank top went over her head and onto the floor, revealing a black sports bra that cupped her tits perfectly.
Her flat stomach had a tattoo on it. It was off-center, just above where her abs met her hips-- a spider, a black widow, the distinctive red hourglass. My eyes lingered. It was pretty hot.
She shimmied out of her jeans, a thong leaving her ass almost completely bare, round, pert, and tight. Then the thong went onto the ground as well, and she moved towards the bed, looking back towards me. "C'mon, big guy."
I couldn't stop drinking in the sight of her: tall, gorgeous, every inch of her athletic, standing there in nothing but that little bra.
But then I sprang into action, stripping my clothes off quickly.
She smirked at the urgency in my movements. "You seem ready to go."
I grinned back. "Just trying to catch up with you."
As I stepped closer to her, she sat on the edge of my bed, spreading her legs and leaning back on her elbows to cant her hips up. I stood between her thighs. She reached between us, guiding my cock to her slick, ready pussy. My breath caught as she rubbed the thick tip up and down her slit, teasing herself...and me.
And then -- eyes locked on me -- she slowly worked it in, letting out a low moan as I parted her.
"Fuck, you're tight." I grunted the words out automatically. She felt like hot silk wrapped around me, enveloping me; I could feel her body, squeezing and stretching around my length to accommodate me.
"Mmm," she moaned. "I am tight. But you're also thick."
I let out a murmur of agreement, but admittedly, I was preoccupied, grappling with the sensation. I wasn't feeling the same pressing need for magical release that I had generally felt over the last few days, but...well, Michelle was hot, that had been an amazing blowjob, and I'd always been pretty fast.
She was pushing her hips up and in towards me, taking more of me inside her. "Fuck," I muttered, again, feeling myself slide in deeper. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my breathing even.
"You're fucking close already, aren't you?" Her grin was wicked, triumphant. "That's fine with me. Just make sure you pull out and spray a big load all over me."
I shoved myself further in; she let out another moan, clutching at my back with her hands.
I groaned with the pleasure of feeling her clenching, vise-like, around me.
"Your big dick loves this tight little pussy, doesn't it?" The words came out as a moan in my ear.
The lewd words spurred me on. It didn't sound like she cared if I lasted. And now that I was inside her, I figured I'd done enough to test what Callistryllaxia had said, that conquests could increase my power.
So I didn't care if I lasted, either.
It helped to allay the usual sense of shame that accompanied the embarrassing realization that I was going to cum quickly.
So I started fucking her, hard and fast. I grabbed her around the waist, fingers digging into the tight muscle of her abs, and started pounding her as hard as I could. Her tits gave a little shimmying bounce with each thrust.
"Ungh, yeah, that's right, don't hold back, fucking rail me," she said haltingly. Every phrase was punctuated by the slap of my hips into her thighs as I railed her.
The dirty encouragement sparked something in me. I could feel myself losing control, the pressure building in my balls, the pleasure surging up my spine. She wrapped her legs around my hips, heels digging in and pulling me deeper, the sensation of her around me, milking me, driving me towards an inexorable conclusion.
And all of a sudden, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I slammed in to the hilt one last time; my plan was to pull out at the last second, but all at once it became too much. I felt the first surge of pleasure and both of us gasped as a I sprayed a rope of cum deep inside her.
Barely in control of what was happening, I pulled out of her after that. As I brought my cock up over her stomach, she reached down for it greedily, pumping my slick shaft, milking it. I groaned at her touch, the way her hands stroked the orgasm out of me, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling out one after another; spraying across her flat, toned stomach, splattering up onto her tits, painting that black bra in white.
"Yeah, fuck, mmm, you're cumming everywhere," she panted out, staring at my thick length spasming cum all over here.
Finally, as my orgasm subsided, I rolled over onto my back, panting and spent.
Maybe Lauren had been right to be concerned about my pullout game, I reflected, ruefully.
But fuck, that had felt good.
I lay, wallowing in the bliss of the orgasm next to her for a few long, languid moments, considering.
I luxuriated again in how gloriously uncomplicated this had been. No weird magical stuff. A pretty girl at a party. Some flirting and beer pong. A simple hookup, a new notch in the bedpost.
A new conquest.
That prompted a round of introspection. Did I feel more powerful?
I considered things internally, for a moment. Not really, I decided, in disappointment. Maybe only conquests of magical women would count.
Michelle pulled away. She gave me a pleased smile, looking down at herself. My cum was everywhere, all over over her hands, stomach, tits. She grabbed tissues to clean herself up. Then she quickly pulled her panties on and started rooting through her purse.
I smiled, watching her absentmindedly, my attention still focused internally.
There was something odd, now that I had honed my sense of things a little bit and was looking for it.
My well of magic was lower than it had been. It hadn't refilled much since Viv, had been low to begin with; but it had drained a little.
I was a little surprised by that, admittedly. I had figured that sex with a...normal woman wouldn't have drained my power.
And then I took in two things at once.
Watching Michelle clean herself up, I couldn't help but notice: on one of her fingers was a ring. Some kind of bronzed metal, a small green stone set in it.
Now that I was staring directly at it, it looked exactly like the amulet Lauren had been wearing. It was even flickering with that odd internal light, that Lauren's amulet had gained after I'd finished on it.
Sex with Michelle hadn't consumed some of my power; that ring had.
Well. Maybe it was just a coincidence that she had it.
After all, Viv had said that sometimes people had minor magical artifacts without even knowing, family heirlooms and the like...
And then, as I watched, Michelle produced a blade from her purse.
Some kind of large folding knife; she flipped it open with a practiced snap of her wrist. There was a quiet click as the blade locked in place; she held it casually in one hand by her side.
"Well fuck me. I'd hoped I was wrong." She said it softly. "You're a thaumaturge."
The last word came out like an accusation.
Oh, shit.
---
There was a long silence, the two of us studying each other.
"What do you want?" I asked, finally. I kept my voice neutral, a little guarded, slowly sitting up in the bed.
"First of all, don't try anything stupid," she said. Her voice had a deadly, predatory intensity. "Like calling for help, for example. Please believe me when I say that you don't want your roommates to get involved and neither do I. You'll only get them hurt."
"Yeah, I believe you," I said, honestly, holding up my hands placatingly. "Leave them out of this." Even the idea of Alyssa or Chris getting hurt because of me, what I was, gave me a flicker of guilt.
"Good," she acknowledged. "Now. You're a thaumaturge. Don't bother denying it."
I nodded, slowly. "I'm a thaumaturge. What do you want?" I slowly shifted, pulling my legs under me. I really wanted to be standing up if it came to a fight, but I could at least get my feet under me so I could move fast if I needed to.
She ignored my question. "You have two choices," she said, flatly. "One, you come with me. We leave the party together. We won't even have to make an excuse; everyone will think you're coming back to my place to hook up again, it won't raise eyebrows. Once we're out of here, I ask you a bunch of questions. If you're helpful, you get to live."
"What's the second choice?" I could hear my heart thudding in my ears. I knew what the other option would entail. Nobody ended the first choice with you get to live if the second choice was a good one.
She held up the knife in answer. "The next time the witches stop by to see their thaumaturge, they find he's full of holes."
That hung in the air between us for a moment. The spite she put into the word witches indicated that there was no love lost there.
"...Michelle, why are you doing this?" I tried to buy a little time to consider.
"I'll explain...if you come with me. If you don't, the explanation would be a fucking waste anyway. So choose." Her gaze was steady, unblinking.
I flicked my eyes around the room frantically, considering the situation.
Bad: she was between me and the doors.
Good: She was probably human, or had some kind of magic Viv hadn't been able to detect. If she was human, that certainly improved my odds in a fight.
Bad: On the other hand, she was also tall, athletic, apparently trained in martial arts, and holding a weapon.
If she'd been unarmed, I would've liked my odds in close quarters like this. Even if she was an exceptional boxer, my bedroom was small. I could grapple her, use my weight and -- hopefully superior -- skill to subdue her.
And maybe I still could...but the odds of taking her in a physical confrontation without getting stuck by that knife felt much worse. She was holding it with a kind of familiarity that definitely gave me pause.
And getting past her without getting stabbed seemed especially unlikely.
I tried one last time to reason with her. "Come on, Michelle. We can talk. Let's just do it here. I like you. What are your questions, it doesn't have to be like thi-"
She shook her head, stepped closer to me, eyes wary, gauging the distance between us. "No. Choose. Right now."
That athleticism I'd found so attractive was suddenly dangerous; that spider tattoo that I'd found sexy was instead sinister. She'd lowered herself into a crouch; the point of the blade had come up a little bit into a ready position. Everything about her screamed coiled, deadly tension.
As I saw it, Michelle was actually wrong. I had three choices.
Fight. I could use the prototype ring Lauren had given me, hope it staggered or slowed Michelle down enough for me to get the upper hand.
But my well of magic was low. I'd never tried the ring before. If it was less effective than I hoped -- or if it my well of power was too low -- it wouldn't
Flight. I glanced over at my bedside table where my phone was laying innocuously, just out of arms reach. But if I moved fast, hit the emergency dial function, I could use the teleport spell Lauren had put in my phone to just get the hell out of here. Ask Lauren for help, maybe.
Could I move fast enough? Maybe.
Play Along. I could go with her. Letting myself get kidnapped felt a little stupid -- but it would let my well of power recharge more, I could learn more about what she wanted, and -- as long as I kept my wits about me and my phone and the prototype ring close at hand, I could still make an attempt at escape whenever I wanted.
I wasn't sure what I'd choose, but I could see from the narrowing in her eyes that my lack of a choose was starting to look an awful lot like choosing to get stabbed.
In a split second, I decided.
I held up my hands, placatingly. "Okay, okay," I said. "I'll..."
Comments
Bob
I am a Margaret Weiss fan back to the Dragonlance days but don’t think I’ve read anything she’s written about witch hunters; what book/story?
RadAsha Nightstrider
Don't tell me you are going with the witch hunter theme. Margaret Weiss wrote something similar years ago, just not erotic.
