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The Magician’s Assistant (Part 3)

The Magician’s Assistant (Part 1)
The Magician’s Assistant (Part 2)

By some queer magic, smothered by his jacket, she became acutely visible as they almost ran back to the safety of the change room. Suddenly it became important for them to be as alone as they had spent every evening of that decade.

“Got a rabbit stuck somewhere?” called a stagehand from somewhere above their heads, to resounding titters in the rafters. Too elated to care, Miriam sped up, dragging her Master behind her until they arrived at the untidily inked notice on the door.

Rhydian Hart & Beatrice

A few paces ahead, Miriam ran her thumb over her name – the name he had given her, but which she had never truly loved. The ink was not quite dry, and the slightest pressure lifted the black marks from the page, leaving only a smudge behind. Then she felt Rhydian’s hand on her shoulder, and opened the door.

The room seemed hot as an oven – with the lamps glowing meanly, leaving the place mostly in shadow, and Miriam felt her bravado leave her as quickly as it had flooded her body. Steeling herself to face him, she found Rhydian’s face obscured by the fingers she had pressed so lewdly to her cunt.

“Am I a monster if I confess the thoughts I had of what you could taste of? Once I dreamt you permitted me between your thighs, lifted your skirts and you were sweet and damp like almond marzipan. As I knelt before you, the slightest brush of my tongue or lips made you gush, each river sweeter than the last and I drank you and drank you as a man who has wandered the desert for a month drains the oasis.”

He blushed. He was so beautiful in his modesty, laced with lasciviousness. She watched him inhale, lick the residue of her from his skin.

“Am I your oasis?” she asked coyly, her eyes fixed on his as she unbuttoned his jacket and carefully laid it on the table beside her.

“You are all I ever hoped for, Miriam.”

He held out his hand and she almost fell into his embrace, his kiss. She shivered as he stroked the skin behind her ear, and reached her own hands up to the collar of his shirt.

“I want to be bold.” she whispered against his lips as the buttons came apart. Beneath his throat was a curl of hair, as dark as his head, and more appeared as she eased his shirt open. Miriam kissed a path along his jaw and down his neck to where the pelt was thick with the scent of sweat and cologne. At nearly thirty, she had never experienced such headiness, such an intoxicant. She felt almost overcome, by lust, fear and masculinity, but lust powered her most of all, and her hands luxuriated in the expanse of his chest as her mouth did.

When she had ducked her head low enough to catch the duct of his nipple in her mouth, his moan of surprise was a further drug, coursing through her veins.

“Miriam…”

She looked up; from her position of subservience, he had never looked more handsome, more authoritative.

He raised his hand, indicating the small brocade chair, hidden in the encroaching shadows. Silently she stepped through the maze of dressers and rails, and sat. Again, their eyes were fixed on one another as Rhydian slipped out of his braces, and removed his shirt. He was knelt at her feet before she could draw breath; and he took hold of her ankles gently, raising them and pulling her forward until he could hook them over the wooden arms of the chair. She had never been so exposed; not before her mother, not before a doctor or nurse. Her own blushes rose; she felt them spread through her body and down to her cunt.

“To Venus.”

He toasted, raising his eyebrows to her, before sinking his head down to the point of all lust within her naked body.

True, she had caressed her own cunt a thousand times and more. And many times she had imagined his touch, his tongue, his cock. She was not as much of a prudish ingénue as her peers believed her. And certainly not the sexless spinster they mocked her as now. But erotic thoughts and fantasies can never quite prepare one for the touch of another.

He kissed her inner thighs, gently and yet she felt each like a branding, a reminder that she was his, and would be his forever. Then she felt his palms flat on the wide, soft skin that framed her cunt, and the weight of his body exposing her to her fullest so he could run his tongue, more teasingly than he ought, she thought with frustration, between her parted lips. He kept one hand firm against the muscle of her thigh, but the other he brought close to his face, pushing the lips further apart, until he could press one of his elegant, dextrous, devilish fingers……

He had paused.

“Rhydian?” her voice came out as a mouse’s squeak and shamed her. She could not believe how much her body ached at being denied his conquest.

“I don’t wish to hurt you, my love. And it will hurt. These things do.” He was meek again, coy and apologetic. She would not allow this.

Once more she took his hand firmly in hers and drew it pointedly between her legs, curving the fingers inwards until they met her cunt, her slight, sweet opening, and she pressed two inside, meeting no resistance, only eliciting her own breathy squeals of pleasure. He rocked his wrist back and forth as she murmured.
“I have travelled that road alone, as far as my own fair hands could take me.” She explained, jerked his wrist upwards and the fingers plunged deeper inside her, making her squirm as he looked upon her with lustful amazement.

Soon he applied his mouth to that smooth, unassuming knot his fingertips had exposed and felt Miriam’s body thrashing above him with every jerk and flick of his tongue. He worshipped her as he had done so in his dreams for more than ten years, pleasuring her as he had been desperate too since she first raised her eyes to his and he felt himself fall, and how he would pleasure her forever more, if she would allow him the honour.

She reached wildly for his him, approaching her peak as sugary desire pulsed through her, though with her other arm she covered her face as if in shame. Rhydian pushed further and further, still marvelling at the slippery wonder of her. Though there was no river; no draught to quench his thirst as she shivered and shrieked and held his face fast against her pulsing, clenching cunt, Rhydian smiled to devote himself to her. There could be rivers enough in their future.

That night the chairman huffed and sighed his way through the introduction – he had never dealt with change without disapproval and poor humour, but he managed to welcome the magician and his assistant to the stage without incident, and under their new titles.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls! A change to our programme of delights, but with good reason, I have been told with good authority. Let your eyes widen and your breath catch in your throats as we welcome to our fine establishment that well-known master of magic and mystery Rhydian Hart, and his accomplice, assistant and newly-minted fiancée – the Mesmerising Miriam.

http://wickedwednesday.rebelsnotes.com/

2 Comments

  1. I love how this has developed towards their new titles. They seem perfect for each other. Lovely story!

    Rebel xox

  2. KP KP

    I have loved this series – and equally the way you brought it to its conclusion. Apart from the hotness, it is beautiful story-telling, brilliant use of language, pace, rhythm and atmosphere to create their world. Bravo.

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