Princil's Magic : Ch.13 : Reformed Wizard (Part 2: Animar : The Wizard's Past : Section 1)

Animar

 

    One magical art of spells, which had been a speciality art of his had begun for very selfish reasons in his Dark Wizard years. As a sexually motivated wizard he had sought suitable women as a predator.  In addition to the use of female captives or females he found on campaigns or after fighting, to acquire suitable women he began to sometimes use his magic. He turned older women back into young beautiful nymphs for his own pleasure, then after discarding them they were returned to their aged or ‘ugly’ states, at some cost to his subjects. Now he found further use for this knowledge.

 

     Lands in the East had been conquered by Guthelm and his horde. The people spoke a related but different language to his own. At first as they capitulated easily to the Grumandrian King. They were allowed to keep their lands and possessions, and the people were not made slaves, in return for their fealty to the King. But, confident in their position, rebels sought to return the land to their own rulers. Guthelm came back to their lands and punished them, impaling the rebels on sticks and watching them die, allowing his soldiery to take what they wanted from the forsaken people of this once proud land.

 

    As a wizard Guthelm drew magic from the dying men, collecting their blood and their anger and despair as they died. Howling winds were created, which smashed the defences of another resistant town not far away. His prime task completed for now, he had gone into the ruined villages, looking for his own pleasure. He found women huddling in the burned ruins of their villages, or running in the forests nearby. The women in the burned village he came to had been raped and passed around by Guthelm’s soldiers, who had passed on, leaving them to whatever further fate might befall them. Guthelm selected two young women, already bloody and bruised from their earlier abuse. They were frightened he would kill them, but had no wish to run.

 

    In return for their lives he ordered them to attend to his needs, and to be good to him in turn, holding his whip in one hand and grasping their buttocks with the other. While he mounted one, he instructed the other to stroke and massage him. Clumsily he came to orgasms upon both of them, grunting and spluttering as he savoured their relative youth, and their fear of him. Even then he had no desire to kill for the sake of it. Away from the purposes of his masters he sought sexual fulfilment, and took it in a variety of ways. These two he had enjoyed, and he let them have their lives as reward. Even if he had not enjoyed the women he would only have killed them if they turned against him or refused to let him have his way.

 

    Afterwards, not completely satiated by the desires in his head, he sought further sports. There was an old woman there, who had cowered in fear like the others, and watched from a distance while he took his pleasure. He assumed she must be one of the family or why would she hover around when there was so much danger to the family. She wished to protect her family, or to be protected by them. He wondered whether she was the women’s mother or even grandmother, and he troubled himself to find out, asking the younger ladies he had just despoiled.

 

    He asked the young women, “Who is she, that woman over there?”

 

    The women were slow to respond, as if reluctant to answer. Surely they did not think he was going to harm the woman, whoever she was. They had just been raped by him, perhaps they thought he might rape her too! But she was an older woman, and why should he? They had seen casual butchery earlier, like all the survivors. It was no surprise that they should fear the worst. He looked at the older woman over there. She was dirty and blackened by the smoke of the burned buildings, and soiled by the earth. He looked at her and saw concern and anger in her eyes, but she was afraid of him too.

 

     “Is she your mother or your grandmother? Please tell me,” he demanded.

 

    The young women looked at each other, as if to agree which story to tell. “She is our mother. She should be hiding. Please do not harm her.”

 

     “I will not harm her if I have no reason to.” It occurred to him that the young women were sisters. He had never thought about that while he enjoyed them, but there were similarities between them. It excited him perversely to think that their mother had been watching him while he deflowered her daughters, although he had evidently not been the first to do so.

 

     This was a land, like his own, where parents watched closely over their daughters, keeping unwanted suitors away until a safe and suitable marriage could be arranged. The punishment by Guthelm’s soldiers was threefold. The killing of their husbands and menfolk, the burning and destruction of their homes and property, to be followed by the rape of their daughters. This was the last horror or humiliation to be visited upon them. Of course it was the least of the horrors. The deaths of the menfolk and the razing of their property took away their livelihoods and stripped them of nearly everything. But the final humiliation of rape to these people, petty though it may seem to Aribor, was a punishment to them. He did not really think it was a punishment to all of them. Young women, who spent much of their lives waiting for a husband, or who might have only experienced the lust of one husband, probably found some interest or even pleasure in being used by soldiers and wizards. He had taken women sometimes who he had been able to bring to their full pleasure, even though in law they were being raped. Even these two young women had participated quite well in their own rape, although he had not brought either of them to any conclusion. As ever he focused on his own pleasure. Theirs was no real concern of his.

 

    “Call her over,” he ordered. “I won’t harm her!”

 

    “Mama come over. He says he won’t hurt you,” called out one of the daughters.

 

     The frightened woman was too scared to approach, but she would not go away either. He could see that although she looked old she probably was not as old as she looked now. He was sure she was some years older than he. Take the grime and dirt off her and change her clothes and she would have looked half decent, he thought. Even though she was quite old. If she would not come to him he decided he would go to her. He had put his Wizard’s robe back on after his sexual gratification, and he kept his whip with him at all times.

 

     The ‘old’ woman did not run. She did not look as if she could run. She knew she could not outrun him, and it must be obvious even to these people that he was a wizard, to be feared and obeyed.

 

     He came close and her hollow eyes stared at him. Yes, she had been a fine looking woman once. He found himself looking at her in a sexual way, as if she were a slavewoman he was about to purchase. She could not have carried a high price because she looked old and worn out, crouched on the soil, in front of what was probably the ruin of their old house.

 

     “Are you their mother?”

 

     She nodded wordlessly.

 

     “Nice young women!” he complimented her daughters, as if to pass judgement on those he had just enjoyed. Yes, the woman had a good shape to her. She was shapely and yet slim, and her hair, mucked up as it was, he could see she was yellowy brown underneath. She had fine facial features, although her skin was scuffed and dirty, and showed the wrinkles of age.

 

     Unbidden, a plan was developing in his head. There was something about the mystery of this woman that was exciting. Perhaps it was that she had witnessed him taking her daughters. He could feel a fantasy growing in his head, and his penis, of taking the woman, now, before her daughters. It did not matter how old she was or how dirty she looked. He liked the shape of her and he knew now that he was not yet finished here.

 

     “Rise!” he ordered, gesturing with his whip. “Can you speak?”

 

     “Yes,” she said, with a gravelled voice which had probably not eaten this day. She rose unsteadily, reluctantly.

 

     “Let me look at you,” he spoke quietly. Without delay he surveyed her stance, the way she set her shoulders and stood. Yes, she was interesting. He would not have guessed at first glance. Without needing to think it he cast his mind to search her. He reached inside her mind. He read fear, disapproval, hatred – all these emotions he expected to find there. He sensed that her primary motivation at this time was to find food. Then he cast a search to find her essence – what she looked like in her prime, a few years before. And the vision he saw excited him. She was in essence a very beautiful woman. His intuition had been correct. There was no denying his lust for her now. He wished to possess her regardless of the reaction she might betray.

 

    “I want to see you! Take off your dress. It is dirty anyway, and let me see the real you.”

 

    At this new degradation the woman seemed to panic, shaking her head, and displaying tears of desperation.

 

    “I can offer you food if you will let me see you,” he offered, despite himself feeling surprised by the strength of her dismal reaction.

 

     She nodded in her desperation, needing food more than she needed dignity.

 

     “I will feed your daughters too,” he offered. “I will just get my snack bag. I have biscuits and cake.” He returned to his bag, and tossing some to the two daughters, who had by now restored their rough clothes, he returned to the mother and fed her some with his own fingers. She opened her mouth accepting the food, and a drink from his water bottle.

 

    “What is your name woman? Speak to me!”

 

    “Agneta,” she replied.

 

    “Ah, Agneta – a nice name. Take off your robes. I wish to examine you. I can punish you if you do not do as I say, but treat me well and I will treat you well. Your daughters will attest to this.”

 

     Without further hesitation he reached for the old mother’s ragged dirty dress at its shoulder clasp and pulled it eagerly with two hands. It came loose and he worked it down.

 

    Seeing their mother disrobed one of the daughters spoke out, “Please sir she has been through much. Do not do this. She has already been raped by the soldiers. Take us again if you want more.”

 

    Aribor spoke again with great authority that the woman could hardly dare to question. “I see great beauty in your mother! I want her. My lust is up. I will not harm her, and it will soon be over. I have fed you all, so this I will have.”

 

    He looked at the woman’s bent and emaciated body, and saw nothing but beauty. With a wizard’s eyes he could discern beauty, real beauty! He squirted water from his bottle in her direction, and it showered the dirt from her. He gripped her with both hands and washed her with his bare hands, as he cast a spell to cause the water to expand. He explored everywhere as he cleaned her, and as he did so the flesh was smoothed and improved, until she seemed younger, and looked nicer, even to the eyes of non wizards.

 

     Aribor had learned his craft as a sorcerer over many years, but he had started young. Sorcery had elevated him above the common people almost immediately. His family and his neighbours had soon become distant to him. He learned a few of the simpler spells and soon he was put to use with the Horde of the young King Guthelm. From then Valdark and the other Dark Wizards had been his mentors. Some of those had died by now, but there were some who had discovered secrets to longer life and appeared to be lasting longer than their expected years, through the arts of magic.

 

    This nourishing and cleansing of the body was something he had been learning from one particular wizard who still lived, but had escaped Guthelm’s service in the recent past. He was one who had already lived much longer than his natural entitlement of years, which proved the success of these particular arts. Aribor knew not where he had gone. Guthelm would surely send agents or other wizards to look for him, but Raldic knew how to stay hidden. If he could find the secrets of longer life, he could surely evade Guthelm’s clumsy spies, and even the all knowing Valdark.