Just like Magic Part 2 – The long way back

This is the sequel to Just like Magic – The Change. To understand this story I highly recommend reading that first. If you prefer not to, read the summary below

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In part one a young aspiring magician named Henry Williams attends a performance by a reclusive master magician who turns out to be a true wizard. He transforms Henry into a beautiful young woman who then runs away almost naked and finds that she becomes a total slut around men. Her journeys lead her to an internet cafe in central London where she is caught giving a teenage boy a blow job and thrown out.

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I could still taste the cum of my latest ‘conquest’ as I stood outside the internet cafe. I really needed a stiff drink. I Didn’t have a watch but I guessed it was about half eight or nine O’clock, almost everywhere would be open, London certainly doesn’t lack for watering holes. I couldn’t go to just any pub or bar though, it was only a few hours ago that stopping in to get out of the cold had ended in me prostituting myself in the ladies toilet. I had to avoid men, it was clearly the only way to avoid the slut side of my personality taking control.

I had heard of a place, even walked passed it a couple of times, which might to the job, The Aphrodite bar. It was a gay bar, lesbian specifically. No men were allowed, it was supposed to be the only place in London for Lesbians to go if they wanted to avoid lads on the pull and groping hands. It was also fairly close by if I remembered right.

I had to ask someone for directions but the place was more or less where I thought it was, walking down Rommilly street I noticed that it was getting colder. I know I have said it a lot but you try walking around in a thin pink top which ends before your belly button and a skirt which barely covers your thighs on an English November day and not go on about it. Clothes aside I was grateful to get the the bar.

Even this early there was a bouncer outside. She was a fearsome looking woman, much bigger than me (bigger than I had been before the change) and clearly not in any mood to entertain. Pity the poor man who tried to get past her. I wasn’t a man though, I was a pretty little girl. She gave me a good look over and from her expression I don’t think she much liked what she saw, the Aphrodite was supposed to be a high end place and I looked like a dirty whore. Still I was clearly old enough to drink and female which was qualification enough for her to let me in.

The warmth of the place was a blessing even though I had only walked a couple of streets. The Aphrodite was a nice place, very modern. Blue and purple seemed to be the theme along with a post modern look. The seats were either tall egg shaped things which looked like someone had sliced one side off of a wine glass or else white been bags with a back to them making them more like a bean armchair. Set of stairs to my left led up to a railed gallery above while a long bar made almost entirely of glass dominated the right hand wall. Then there was the art work, there was hardly a wall without its own fresco of beautiful yet strong women painted in a minimalist style. I liked it.

It was still fairly early on a weekday so the place wasn’t crowded though it wasn’t empty either. I didn’t have to wait at the bar. Normally Henry drank whisky or beer so why I ordered a Vodka and tonic I don’t know but it took a healthy bite out of my finances. I definitely didn’t have enough to get a room tonight and this and other thoughts drove me to drink faster than I ought to have done. Ordering another I left the bar and found myself a free nest of bean chairs to curl up on.

The music was a weird mix of modern pop and female empowerment with a healthy slice of just good female singers. I listened to Mazy Starr, sipped my Vodka and watched the rest of the place. There were several groups in clustered around their own little tables. A gaggle of twenty somethings dominated the centre of the room, there was a lot of giggling and loud talk about both girls and boys. A trio of middle aged women lounged on chairs like mine sharing a bottle of champagne in one corner while a more mixed group took up another, it almost looked like a mother and daughter day out. Then there was the other one.

I didn’t see her at first, she was up above, on the gallery looking down. Watching, like me. My drink was down to its last sip and I was weighing up whether I could afford another so soon when she walked up behind me and slid into the seat to my right.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Startled I looked at her. She was pretty, very pretty. About thirty or so with lightly tanned unblemished skin and a Grace Kelly hair cut she wore a simple white dress which covered her from neck to knee without hiding her figure very much at all.

“Errr, no,” I replied somewhat hesitantly
“Neither am I,” she said with a smile “but I hate drinking alone, will you join me?”
I hadn’t even answered before a waitress arrived with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of dry ice and two glasses.
“Sure,” After all a drink was a drink and with less than thirty pounds left anything that kept my finances in tact was a good thing. Besides I found myself quite drawn to this woman, her confidence, her assertiveness quite different to Dean or any of the other men I had met.

She poured me a glass, took one herself and lay back in the squishy almost chair with one leg crossed over the other and began to talk. She had a slight accent, I couldn’t quite place it, somewhere in eastern Europe I thought. She said her name was Katrina, that she was in London on business and always came to the Aphrodite when she was in town. Mostly though we talked about me, which made for an awkward conversation since a lot of things about me I had to make up on the spot. I told her I was single (which was true) and that I was an actress (which wasn’t). I told her I didn’t really know anyone in the city which was why I was drinking alone and that sometimes you just want to get away from men although I wasn’t a lesbian (which was why I was drinking there).

The bottle was almost empty when I felt a hand on my thigh. I was surprised but it was just for a moment as she rose to order more and I let it pass. As I was finishing my next glass however the hand returned; it was soft and cool against the rising heat of the place and once again I said nothing. We were talking about art, I knew a little about art, enough to hold my end and I was glad not to be talking about myself any more. Her hand inched up my leg as we discussed the artist who had painted the frescos at Aphrodite. My talk of minimalism foundered a little as her hand slipped beneath my skirt and slid along my inner thigh. I looked at her, eyes wide but said nothing. A familiar feeling was coming over me.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked in a whisper
Maybe it was the booze or something but I switched the conversation to cinema and left the hand where it was.

Taking this for permission she stroked the inside of my thigh and I felt the first stirrings of dampness between my legs
‘I should stop this,’ I thought to myself ‘you came here to get away from sex, you should get out before it is too…’
“Do you always go out without panties?” Katrina’s hand ventured higher and a single finger now rested just above my clit.

“No,” I said, blushing “I just lost them today,”
The bar had become busier as we drank and it was loud enough that I couldn’t whisper as she pried the story of the boy in the internet café out of me. I am not sure I would have whispered anyway, suddenly after most of a bottle of champagne and with a stranger’s hand hovering over my slit I was oddly proud of it. Her finger traced the very outer edges of my sex, never quite touching, as I recounted masturbating in public and letting a teenager cum in my mouth. Just about the only thing I didn’t tell was why I had been there in he first place, she didn’t seem to care.

“Darling you are delightful,” she told me as I ended my story. Unexpectedly her hand withdrew and she stood up, my pussy pulsed with disappointment
“Don’t look so sad darling, I am only going to the toilet,”
Those words reminded me that it had been several hours, two vodka tonics, a bottle of champagne, a cup of coffee and a cumshot since had had visited the loo myself.
“I will go with you,” I said. Maybe this is why women all seem to go to the bathroom together, sympathetic bladders or something.

She had to steady me twice on the way to the bathroom, booze and heels do not make for a stable frame, she also knew where they were which was good since the door was completely covered by one of the frescos, I might have been some time finding it on my own. It was much nicer than the Peddler’s arms, blue floor, white sinks, purple cubicles. There were a few other women in there but a couple of toilets were available and I headed straight to one. Thankfully unlike the pub the lock on the cubicle door actually worked and I was able to piss in relative peace.

No one would be bursting in on me this time but a door couldn’t keep my own mind at bay. Katrina had really turned me on, my pussy so wanted to be touched. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe I was just getting used to my slut side but I didn’t try very hard to resist. I parted my legs a little wider and stuck two fingers inside myself, pumping rhythmically. After a moment I tried adding a third but my pussy was so tight it was a hard struggle. My right hand joined in almost of its own accord and began playing with my clit. Biting my lip I was trying not to make any noise but I had been in there long enough for Katrina to say
“Are you alright in there darling?”
I didn’t say anything, I didn’t trust myself to say anything, most people might have assumed I had fallen asleep (I was pretty drunk after all) but Katrina had me figured out better than I thought
“Are you masturbating in there darling?” she didn’t keep it quiet, there were other women about and I have to wonder how they reacted, obviously inside the cubicle I couldn’t see.

My choices now were not great; I could come clean which would be embarrassing, I could lie and say I was taking a shit or something (also embarrassing) or I could ignore her. I chose this option, I really wanted to cum but it wasn’t happening. After about twenty seconds she spoke again
“Talk to me darling, I wouldn’t want to get the manager to open the door if you’re not in any trouble,”

That put the third option off the table and I still couldn’t cum! My fingers spread my folds apart as I desperately rubbed my clit and it felt good, very good, but I wasn’t cumming. Memories of the last two days flashing through my mind, being fucked by the man in the pub, being dominated by Dean, it helped, made me horny, but I couldn’t cum
“I guess I will have to find the manager then, if you are ok in there I shall be cross with you darling,”

“Wait!” I squeaked an octave higher than my usual girlish tone “I’m coming out,”
Reluctantly I withdrew my slippery fingers and let my skirt fall back into place. With a piece of tissue I wiped my pussy clean of most of my fluids and clicked the lock open. She didn’t look cross, she looked amused and the other two women seemed to be trying very hard not to look at all.
“were you masturbating?” She asked me, her tone chiding yet playful
“No,” I muttered looking down in embarrassment

My head shot up as her hand made its way once again up my skirt, a single finger slid inside me just a fraction and withdrew. Theatrically she licked the tip of her finger
“Liar,” she said and took my hand leading me back out into the bar. I thought she would take us back to our seats where quarter of a bottle of champagne still waited but instead she meandered slowly towards the bar
“There are two things darling which I don’t like to do alone.” she looked at me, eyes boring into mine
“Drink and sex,”

Immediately she turned away from me letting go of my hand
“Excuse me,” she called to one the bartenders “would you call me a taxi,”
She returned to our previous spot and poured a final glass of champagne. As though the last ten minutes had never happened she started talking yet again about French cinema. Surprised my disappointed pussy demanded I return to the bathroom but my self control wasn’t that low. I tried to chat as we had before but she could see that I wasn’t interested in cinema any more. We talked for a few minutes before a waitress came over to tell Katrina that her taxi had arrived. Standing she thanked her and gathered her purse. Once she was ready to go she looked back down at me and said one word
“coming?”

The smile on my face let her know that she had me. It had taken a few hours and a lot of booze but this woman had proved one thing, it wasn’t just men my new body reacted to. Taking her proffered hand I allowed myself to be led like a child to the taxi. She kissed me, in the taxi. It was the first time anyone had kissed my lips since Virgil had remade them. They had sucked cock but a kiss was a first, it was nice. Her hands were nice too, playing with me, teasing me through my clothes. I tried to do the same, my hands caressing her thighs, her arms, her neck but when a questing finger tried to near her hidden pussy she slapped it away playfully and mouthed
“Not yet,”

I imagine this was quite distracting for the driver but he managed to get us to her hotel. It was a new place, I had read about it in the Metro. Four star and very large the Albion’s lobby was lit up and reception was fully open, it was only a little past twelve after all. Taking my hand once more Katrina led me to the elevator and up to he top floor. Her room wasn’t the pent house but it was still impressive. Glass covered the whole of the outside wall, one giant window. The bed was pretty giant as well.

The door had barely shut before her dress slipped down her shoulders to crumple round her feet. The lingerie beneath was white as well, stockings, suspenders and all. My own top came off pretty damn fast. She helped me take the skirt off, kneeling in front of me and pulling it down around my ankles so that her face was level with my sex. Without warning her tongue dove in, arrow straight and hard she darted into my pussy. I mewed with pleasure, pressing her head against me. She knew how to lick a pussy and my pussy was begging to be licked, my juices started to drip down my legs and I mewed again as she left my desperate cunny to lap it up. It took only a moment for her tongue to be replaced by a hand though, those teasing hands.

I was moaning like a whore, not even trying to keep quiet as she drove me nearer and nearer to the orgasm I couldn’t give myself at the bar rising me higher and higher until, quite suddenly, she stopped.
“Not yet slut,” she pushed me away leaving me unfulfilled
“What happened to darling?” I asked,
“Darling is for public, slut is for private, you don’t mind do you,” her voice was playful but firm
“No, I don’t mind at all,” I smiled at her. The truth was that then, in that moment, I didn’t mind, in that moment I loved it
“What should I call you in private then? Whore? She slapped my pussy, not hard but hard enough to hurt
“You can call me ma’am. Now if you want to come you have to earn it, on your knees,” she was still playful but she wasn’t joking. I hadn’t thought I could be any more turned on but I was now.

“Yes ma’am,” she said, my voice a sultry purr. I slid to my knees, the carpet was soft and thick. Katrina stood. Tracing my hands down her body I slid her panties down to reveal a pretty little cunt. She looked after her pussy well, it was hairless except for a tiny strip above and dripping wet. Henry had never sucked a cock before Virgil changed me but he had done his share of cunnilingus. My pink tongue flickered over her clit before tracing around her out lips. I wasn’t as skilled as she was but Katrina was sighing and shivering as my tongue wormed into her cunt. Her hands wove into my hair and very gently guided me, I let myself be guided and added a finger, then another as I sucked on her button
“Mmm very good slut, keep going, keep, keep ke….”
She came, shivering in my hands. Her juice filled my mouth and I kept going, lapping up every drop of her until she finally stopped moaning and jerked my hair back a little.

I stopped and looked up at her, smiling like a bimbo with her juice on my face
“Get on the bed slut,” she said, I didn’t need asking twice almost throwing myself on top of the crisply laid duvet, legs akimbo. Looking back I saw Katrina unhook her bra letting her firm titties free, they were about the same size as mine and looked delicious. Naked now but for her shoes and stockings she stalked over to the bedside and took out something shiny
“Give me your hand,” I placed my hand in hers and she snapped a handcuff over my wrist
“Kinky,” I giggled not minding at all, She had taken over completely now and I was starting to embrace it. Henry never got off of submission but now…

The other cuff closed over the railings of the head board and she produced another set to secure my right hand too. Going back into the draw Katrina pulled out a large pink dildo and a smaller object which she kept hidden. Climbing onto the bed herself she placed herself between my splayed legs and pushed them just a touch further apart
“Do you like big cocks, slut?”
“I like all cocks, ma’am,” did I really just say that!?
Katrina laughed and placed the dildo at my front door
“You like it when a big strong man puts his cock inside you,”
Yes ma’am

She pushed the dildo into me, driving at least five inches in one movement, I yelped but my cunny was so wet it went in easily enough
“You like being a cocksleave for men who only want you for your body?”
“Ohhh, yes ma’am,”
The dildo was moving now, pistoning in and out, never the whole way, stretching my tight pussy. Slow at first then faster she pushed me closer and closer to my dream, then slower, teasing.
“Do you like anal sex, slut,”

My eyes widened and I looked at her ‘no’ I thought
“I haven’t tried it ma’am,”
The dildo sped up again and she pushed it in deeper, at least seven inches now pounding my pretty little slit
“Do you want to, slut?”
‘NO! Absolutely not,’ I thought
“Yes, ma’am,” I said
Katrina reached behind her and showed me the object she had kept hidden, it was a but plug. Bright pink it matched the dildo, probably bought them as a pair

The dildo slowed again, slowed right down making me whimper at the lack of plastic pressing up against my walls. Slowly, with her eyes fixed on mine and a smirk on her face, she put the but plug in her mouth and sucked on it, just for a moment
“That should get it wet enough don’t you think slut,” I didn’t answer this time, too caught up in the moment, the dildo had pushed in even deeper stretching my cunny painfully. Cupping my ass cheek Katrina raised it up making me move a little, giving her better access
“That’s weird, you said you hadn’t tried anal, are you lying to me slut?”
The dildo stopped though still stuck inside me
“No, why what’s wrong?” I was just as confused as she was
Sticking her finger in her mouth Katrina placed it on my arse hole and pushed in, it felt weird but it didn’t hurt, not like I was expecting, granted it was only a finger but
“You are lubricated in there slut, do you always have lube in your arse hole, just in case?” Her voice was back to playful rather than confused.
“I knew you were a slut, slut, but I believed you when you said you were an ass virgin.”
“I am!” I was still confused, what the hell was going on? It had to be Virgil, the way he changed me. He had said that he made me a slut ‘among other things’, could he really make my ass permanently lubricated? Was that even possible?

“I was going easy on you, slut, I don’t like being lied to. Lets fill your arse,”
She pushed it in, the but plug. Didn’t tease it or let my hole adjust, she just pushed it in, one smooth movement. Not fast, not brutal, but it was a hell of a feeling. I squealed as that small looking butt plug suddenly became the largest thing in my world. It hurt, even with the lube it hurt but at the same time it felt… nice. It was stretching me out just like the dildo still impaling me was
“I feel so… full,”
She giggled
“Glad you like it, slut, you will be wearing it for a while. Now, I want to hear you scream,”

She took hole of the dildo once again, I thought she had been fucking me before! Harder, faster, deeper than before the nine inch dildo fucked me. The but plug filled me, my only free hole was my mouth and that was for moaning. I lost coherent thought as it fucked me harder than I had been fucked before and finally came with that scream she was after.

I think I passed out for a few minutes because after I came the first thing I saw was Katrina in a silk dressing gown, of course I was still completely naked except for my shoes. Common sense was starting to come back to me, the plug was still inside me but I was no longer consumed by nothing but sex. The usual sense of disbelief was there, the shame not so much, I was getting used to it I guess, letting strangers fuck me. Besides while Henry couldn’t believe it when I started screwing men and enjoying it Katrina was a sexy woman, both the old me and the new wanted her. It was still stupid of course, I needed to be finding solutions to my problems not fucking around, but one problem was no where to sleep and handcuffed to a bed was better than a shop doorway.

As I reflected Katrina went to her hand bag and took out her mobile. Calling someone she looked at me, all splayed and helpless. Her eyes had changed, I don’t know how exactly but something was wrong.
“Sir, I have a new girl for you. Submissive little bimbo. Dark hair, white skin. C cup. Probably fetch £100,000 easily. Ok, ok, ok. Goodbye sir.”
This, needless to say, worried me.

“What the hell was that!?” I asked
“What you thought you just sat in a bar and a beautiful older woman was so infatuated with a girl dressed like a $20 hooker that she brought her home? You are through the rabbit hole now slut; in the morning a nice man will take you away, you will do as you are told. You will be taught to obey and trained to be a good slut slave, that should come easily to you. Then you will be sold to another nice man, what happens after that I don’t know, or care.” Her tone was hard, not vicious but businesslike. She had clearly done this before, probably many times
“You bitch! Let me go!” I screamed, straining against the cuffs

“I am going to take a bath, you are going to calm down, this is your life now slut.”
I screamed some more hoping that someone in another room might hear me, no one seemed to. I did calm down though just like she said but this was not going to be my life. As I calmed I was able to think, thinking is a good way of solving problems. In the bathroom I heard the taps stop and knew that Katrina was hopefully occupied for a little while. You see one thing that magicians learn is how to deal with restraints, some people go all out an become escape artists but plenty of regular stage magic needs you to slip out of things. Katrina thought I was an actress, maybe a whore, but I was a magician.

The hand cuffs were real steel but they were not closed very tightly over my tiny wrists. Even so I lost some skin freeing my right hand, the left soon followed. It had taken three minutes and I hadn’t been as quiet as I would have liked, still Katrina gave no sign of returning. My heart was pounding in my head as I removed the thick dildo from my pussy and slipped off the bed. I was NOT going to be sold to some Ukrainian mob boss, and something told me that I wouldn’t win a fight against Katrina. Quiet was what I needed now, silence and a quick exit. Still I couldn’t go naked and this was an opportunity.

Quiet as I could I opened the wardrobe, it was filled with all manner of things, suits, dresses, skirts. I didn’t have long to choose but almost anything would be better than the barbie pink slut combo I got from Dean. Almost of their own accord my hands closed around a dress, simply cut in red it bared the shoulders and a bit of cleavage but ran all the way down to my knees while clinging tight to my curves. Deciding that underwear was a waste of time I didn’t have I slipped it on. A glance in the mirror told me I looked good, although my hair was a mess and I knew I smelled of sex.

Next I went to her hand bag and found her purse. The bitch was going to tell me into slavery, robbing her wasn’t going to trouble my conscience. Cards and phones would be too easy to track and I did not want these people coming after me so I just took the cash, a couple of hundred pounds worth, and left the rest. Finally I went back to the wardrobe and grabbed one of the coats hanging there. Knee length and black it might not have gone with the dress but at least it was warm.

All this had taken almost ten minutes and I was really pushing my luck. Sure Katrina might spend half an hour in the bath, but she might not and she knew she had a damn prisoner to look after. Her own arrogance might have made her leave me alone but it was time to leave. Thankfully the Albion had very quiet doors, I slid out into the hallway and walked straight to the lift trying not to look as though my heart was pounding hard enough to break the skin. It wasn’t until I reached the lobby that I realised I still had the butt plug in.

That was a problem for another time, my problem now was the same one that had troubled me for two days. Where next? As I stood there in that beautiful modern lobby, with slavers in the room above and a bitter wind outside, my mind turned to another hotel and the man who would be there for just one more day. I couldn’t live like this. Every few hours I found disaster, I just couldn’t control myself. It was all Virgil’s fault and the thought of going back to the bastard who had done this to me for help made my blood boil. In the end though I knew I didn’t have a choice. I was going back to the Regency.

The lobby clock told me it was half past one but it was a busy hotel and I drew no notice aside from an amicable greeting from the receptionist. A pair of well dressed revellers all but staggered through the revolving door as I went the other way to the taxi rank nearby. I got into the second one (you can’t be too careful as I was discovering, my run in with Katrina had made me a little paranoid) and stilled his complaints about the cab rank rule with a smile and a flirtatious giggle. Conscious that I was in danger of reverting to bimbo mode I gave the cabby (a old fat chap) the post code of the Regency theatre, though not the name. Like I said, paranoid.

Light and darkness flashed past the windows as we sped through the early hours of a winter morning. Conversation was limited and before long only the unobjectionable sound of BBC Radio 2 cut through the hum of the engine and occasional shriek of sirens. It was a long way though, often through twisty back streets, and the man had no sat nav. I had to trust in the supposedly legendary knowledge of black cab drivers, God knows after the first ten minutes I had lost all sense of direction.

Even with light traffic it took over an hour before I started to recognise the dilapidated grandeur of Gloriana Road and knew that the theatre was nearby. Not wanting anyone to know exactly where I was going I told the cabby to stop. To my credit I hardly even considered paying with a strip tease this time, and I didn’t need to with Katrina’s money. Forking over a frankly unreasonable number of notes I slipped out of the taxi and smothered a curse as my poor blistered feet were forced to take my weight yet again.

It was still hours before dawn and on the long drive I had decided I didn’t want to arrive in the dead of night. It was too much like last time and I needed a fresh start here. Katrina’s coat was warm, warm as my old dad’s, and it wasn’t raining. Still I didn’t relish the idea of waiting around outside for hours on end. Still I started walking, just around the surrounding streets, to keep my self warm and for something to do. That’s how I spotted the little café, it was two streets down from the theatre and unlike the Regency it didn’t look like it had ever seen better days. I couldn’t imagine it ever looking like anything other than a thirty year old greasy spoon, it had probably opened with dirty windows and fag ends in the ash trays. It did open early though. On my second loop round the empty streets, around half three at a guess, the light flicked on.

Coat or no coat it was bitter cold and my feet hurt, I approached the light and pushed the door open to find a surprised and grumpy middle aged woman. She was obviously not expecting any custom just yet but money was money. My mouth was dry and a hangover was threatening. My stomach rumbled to remind me that I had eaten nothing but cum for over twenty hours. A large mug of tea and a full english were ordered. I settled down to watch the sun rise.

Tea and food helped the hangover, and caffeine was a blessed relief, but it was a tired and nervous young woman who rose from her table several hours later and stepped out into the street once again.
“Right,” I muttered to myself, “time to meet my maker,”. A few early birds were out in the street, probably on their way to work, I ignored them and they ignored me.

By daylight the Regency was far less impressive than at night. The soaring columns were still there, the iconic half crown above the door, but missing tiles and graffiti robed it of its grandeur. Moving past it I set eyes on the adjoining hotel. It was also called the Regency, it had been built and owned by the same people as the theatre back when this district was rich enough to warrant either. Like the theatre it was a decaying monument to a previous age. Unlike the theatre the door was ajar. That had to be Virgil’s work, had he really been so sure I would come back? Maybe he just left it on the off chance. Either way I stepped inside.

The lobby was dark, illuminated only by the faint light of grimy windows. Furnished in oak and green leather it must once have been a sight to see. Hesitantly I walked up the the reception desk. There was no one around, non the less a single key had been placed right at the centre. It was numbered XIII. I really was starting to hate the smug bastard for a whole new reason, I don’t like being predictable.

If the hotel ever had an elevator it was almost certainly out of order, I found the stairs and climbed two stories before finding the door to room thirteen. Swallowing my mounting butterflies I briefly considered knocking before simply unlocking the door and opening it. A faint squeal of rusted hinges and two small steps seemed to take me back a hundred and fifty years to a time when men were men and Britania ruled the waves. Thirteen wasn’t a room it was a suite. Large windows with curtains thrown wide revealed a sitting room as large as the one in my house and much smarter. A pair of chesterfield armchairs sat next to an open fire. Neither were occupied though the fire burned merrily. Instead the doorman stood, bolt upright and still as a statue, by a door leading off to the right.

Without a word he pointed to one of the chairs, when I made no move he gestured again, more firmly, and I decided to sit down. God what had I gotten myself into coming back here? Once I was settled he knocked on the door and disappeared inside. I waited, it seemed like an age. Several times I got up to leave, to knock on that door, to do something! Every time I sat down again. Eventually, finally, the door opened.

“The former Mr Williams, I knew you would find your way home,” it was Virgil. He was as I remembered him, a tall man in his early forties with the build of an ageing athlete not yet ready to let himself go. The moustache on his face was as preened as I recalled but the top hat and tails had been replaced by a navy blue lounge suit. He was an attractive man, shrouded in authority and confidence, and a large part of me wanted him. The other part, the old me, had rehearsed this moment many times in the last few hours. Now that it came to it all those carefully planned words seemed to fall out of my head.

“I want to be me again!” I tried to sound calm “I want to be a man,” The great magician smiled
“I know,” he took a seat opposite me, sat, and waited. The silence stretched and of course I was the one to break first
“Will you do it? Reverse the spell?” I asked
“No, I told you two nights ago, I will not change you back, but I will teach you how to do so yourself,”

I had many questions, the first one to come out was simply
“Why?”
His answer was postponed by Lottie, the plump West Indian woman who had acted as door clerk at the performance. Dressed in formal maid’s attire she entered from outside and placed a single glass of scotch by Virgil’s hand before leaving the way she had arrived.
“I need an assistant,” Virgil said, as he had the night he changed me “But more than that I need an apprentice. There are so very few of us left now.”
“Magicians?” I asked. He took a sip and shook his head sadly
“Wizards.”

He was serious, he really was, and he had certainly proved that wizards were real, I was proof of that
“But why me?”
“Because you have the talent for it, you can sense the uncanny, the traces of magic. Vestigia we call it.”
“But why turn me into a girl, and a slut?” my voice grew shriller, failing to hide my anger
“I told you, I need an assistant, and I want a beautiful girl to fuck. I keep the people around me to a minimum Miss Williams, you are everything in one perfect parcel.” Another pause, another sip of his drink

“How long?” I asked, “How long until I can change back?”
“Traditionally the mastery takes ten years, some move faster, some slower,”
I slumped back in my chair, ten years! Ten fucking years! But there wasn’t any other way. Besides if he was telling the truth, and I thought he was, I could be a real wizard (or witch maybe). I had wanted that since I was six years old, surely that was worth a woman’s body. I won’t deny the idea of this new life excited as much as it terrified, and Virgil… I was starting to like Virgil. It was probably his spell but still the more we talked the calmer I seemed to feel.

“Do I have to call you master?” he had called it ‘the mastery’
“Traditionally, like a school master”
“Or a Jedi?”
“If you like,” I wondered if Virgil had ever seen Star Wars.
“If you accept my training I have just one condition,” he said, growing more serious “you may question, you may suggest but you will obey me until you reach the mastery. Absolutely, and without qualification. Do you so swear?” This was a big moment, perhaps the biggest of my life
“I so swear.” he smiled broadly

“Good, now stand up, let me take a look at you,” I did as I was told
“Not bad, not bad at all. My former apprentice arrived back at my door in a boob tube and hot pants. Now, take off your dress.”
“Err, master…” he stilled my hesitation with a look, it wasn’t like I didn’t know he wanted to use my body, it wasn’t like my body didn’t want to be used.
Pulling the zip down my back I let the red dress crumple around my feet leaving me naked once again. The warmth of the fire pulsing against my skin.
“Now tell me I am not an artist,” he murmured, seemingly to himself, as he ran his eyes over my curves. With a wave he bade me spin around. As I did I felt his hand grab one buttock and stopped, a burst of laughter told me he had seen the butt plug
“You had an interesting few days I see,” he chuckled and let me go, I turned to face him.

Perhaps predictably my master of the arcane arts had his cock out. Seven inches of turgid flesh jutting manfully from the depths of his unbuttoned fly. He didn’t have to tell me what he wanted, you know me well enough by now to know what the sight did to me. Kneeling down I took his member in hand and began to jerk up and down, after a moment my second hand found his balls and began to massage gently. Slut me was stirring, wanted this cock inside me, wanted the pure ecstasy of flesh on flesh and subordination. My left hand left his balls and found my clit, but I could hardly leave him short. My mouth closed around the right ball and began to suck, rolling it around my mouth before letting it drop and enveloping the left. My hands did their work, bringing me closer as well as him, both masturbating to the rhythm of my quickening heartbeat. He let me work.

Leaving his balls I licked up the full length of his shaft to the tip and then down again, up and down until at last I let myself swallow his dick. It had grown at least another half an inch and it filled my mouth with its size, its taste, its intoxication. The pre-cum leaked onto my tongue as I bobbed up and down. My right hand fell away to brace on the side of the chair as I took inch after inch until, after seven or eight minutes of sucking, I pushed seven and a half inches down my throat. I tried so hard not to gag but on the third deep throat I did and had to pull back, and start the process all over again. He sat in silence did Virgil, but as I once again neared his full length his breathing started to become heavy. Brushing aside my hair he cupped the base of my skull in his large hands and began to thrust down my throat. I didn’t gag, I doubt he would have stopped if I had. String after hot string shot directly down my throat, I didn’t even get to taste him until he pulled back and without being asked proceeded to clean his cock.

My own hand had faltered as he shot his load down my neck but now I could give my pussy the attention it craved. I let my self fall back against the bottom of my arm chair and spread my legs. Left hand played with my clit but as the right reached to penetrate my lips Virgil slapped it away. I whimpered in distress, thinking he wouldn’t let me cum, I needn’t have worried. Bending down he slipped first one then two fingers into my wet and ready slit, fingers so much bigger, so much warmer than my own, so much stronger. First slow, then fast, then faster still he brought me to such an orgasm I screamed like a banshee, if a banshee could cum.

Sitting back in his chair Virgil sucked both fingers clean
“Am I not an artist?” he murmured again under his breath
“You will need a new name,” he said, to me this time. I supposed he was right, Henry certainly didn’t fit any more.
“I will call you Eden, if you aren’t earthly paradise I don’t know what is.”
Eden, my name was Eden. I decided that I liked it. It felt good to have a name again, this really would be a fresh start.

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