The Magister
Chapter 1

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Coercion, Magic, NonConsensual, Slavery, High Fantasy, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Spanking, Violent,

Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Exploring a fantastic world of magic with a powerful Mage Warrior who brings harsh justice to those who oppose his Emperor and would harm the innocent.

She was feeling faint. The cold of the rain made her shiver, her body trying to create heat as she huddled in the alleyway, looking out onto the town square for a likely target. Her stomach was cramped in pain, a desperate reminder that she hadn’t eaten in three days. Her last attempt to lift a purse had been almost fatal as her target ended up being an arms man for the local lord. He had beaten her black and blue for her efforts, and left her bleeding in an alley several blocks from where she was. Her skull still ached, but she was glad that the arms man had not seen through her disguise, and had though her a simple beggar boy who had gotten overly ambitious. The beating had been painful, leaving her with aching ribs and a limp that was just starting to fade two days later.

Finally she saw a likely target. A cloaked man riding a large, fine stallion trotted down the town streets through the cold drizzle, his cloak drawn tight against him, sheltering him from the occasional gust of wind. She snuck out of the ally and stalked her prey, hoping for a chance to cut his belt pouch. A man with a horse that fine might carry enough currency to last her several weeks if she was careful. The rain was her ally now, muffling her footfalls, as she kept to the shadows and moved closer to the man.

He dismounted in the middle of the town square, and tied the horse to the hitching post in the public square, next to a water trough that was over-full with the rain. He moved toward the tavern through the rain. She watched as he walked through the muddy square. He moved with a smooth gait, even through the mucky streets as if the mud and squalor of the town was of no importance. He wore fine boots, that shone in the torchlight, indicating that they were made of oiled leather, waterproof that most people could not afford.

As he moved closer to the tavern, several drunks stumbled out, cursing and swearing at each other, and stumbling and slipping in the mud. One shoved one of the others, causing him to stagger towards the stranger. She tensed, and prepared to dart forwards, hoping beyond hope that this distraction would enable her to lift the strangers belt pouch. The drunk took several staggering steps and bumped into the stranger, nearly knocking him over. She saw her chance and darted towards them, as the stranger flared his cloak and cuffed the drunk with a open hand across the ear.

“Be more careful of where you step.” A low bass voice said with a level but menacing tone.

“Sorry sir. Just having some fun with my friends”

“Do it elsewhere and stay out of the way of others if you know what’s good for you. Horseplay amongst friends is one thing, but be careful not to involve others. I would have been sorely displeased if I had been knocked down into this foul mud. Now be on your way.”

“Aye sir, my apologies sir.” The drunk said, with a clumsy bow, moving off. One of his friends laughed loudly as his misfortune and the group staggered off into the rain. One of them started singing a rather off colour song about a barmaid as they moved away from the tavern.

She closed in, staying to the shadows, not realizing that the keen eye of the stranger had seen her as she moved towards them. The cloaked man stepped up onto the covered porch of the tavern, standing in the shadows just off to the side of the entrance but off to the side of the main entrance. He looked to be waiting for someone. She moved towards the porch, keeping to the shadows and hoping for a distraction so she could strike. The stranger flipped his cloak back once in the shelter of the porch. She saw the long dagger sheathed at his hip. And then she saw her target. A fat belt pouch, probably laden with silver coins. She moved closer, desperate for a chance to grab the pouch and slip off into the shadows of the town, to count her loot. She reached to her own belt and unsheathed her small belt knife, kept razor sharp to slice the rawhide strings that kept most purses tied to the belt. A crash of thunder startled her and the rain began to come down harder. She moved in closer, hoping for an opportunity to make a dash for her target. Suddenly her chance came. Another group of drunks staggered out of the tavern, distracting the stranger. This group was very loud, cursing and swearing as two pairs came out onto the porch, cursing at each other vehemently. A blow or two was struck and the group scuffled on the porch, drawing the eye of her target. She silently vaulted the rail as her targets eyes turned towards the fighting men, and she made a quick dash forward, her knife slashing in to sever the cords that bound the pouch to her targets belt. The pouch dropped into her hand with a solid weight, significantly heavier than she expected. The pouch must had gold coins in it rather than a few silver like she expected. She moved away from her target quickly, hoping beyond hope to get away from the scene before she was noticed when a blinding flash of pain hit her on the back of her skull. The world faded away quickly as her mind faded into black.

Pain woke her. Throbbing behind her eyes as she slowly woke. More pain in her shoulders, as she realized that her hands were stretched above her head. Pain in her wrists, the raw feeling of the rope abrading her skin, that kept her wrists together above her head. She was tied, dangling from a rope that kept her suspended off the floor, the rope looping around her wrists several times. A soft moan of pain escaped her lips as she gradually rose from unconsciousness. She tried to open her eyes, but that revealed only blackness. She was blindfolded.

“So ... My little thief wakes.”

She recognized the low menacing voice of the stranger on the porch.

“Little thief, who do you work for?”

She groaned softly. The pain in her shoulders keeping her from being really coherent yet.

“Little thief. Who do you work for?” The voice held more threat than she had ever heard before. She shivered with fear.

“No one. I ... I just wanted to eat.”

“So you decided to steal a Magister’s Seal?”

“No ... just wanted silver to eat sir.” She stammered, shaking with fear.

“I don’t believe you little thief.” The voice said with quiet menace. “No one would try to steal a Magister’s seal just to eat.”

“I ... I just wanted your purse.”

“Again little thief. I don’t believe you. Do you know the penalty for Treason little thief?”

She shuddered, imagining the penalties that might arise from high crimes against the kingdom.

“No ... no sir I do not.”

“Death is the only penalty allowed for by law little thief. Death by torture.”

She fainted.

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