Sunderland Magic - Cover

Sunderland Magic

Copyright© 2008 by classymissm

Chapter 5

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A young female researcher works to makes discoveries about her magical world, and is surprised by what she finds.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction  

The room Alison had been led to was quite intimidating. Lined with dark wooden shelves filled with antique books on the kingdom's history the room took on a musky, old-library smell. She had been told to sit in the chair to the immediate right of the head of the large rectangular table that dominated the meeting room. The table was long enough to seat at least ten people per side and had small green-shaded lamps running down its middle.

Alison's stomach growled and she could hear the echo reverberate against the high, arched ceiling of the room. She was beginning to regret skipping breakfast earlier, but at the time she had thought she would vomit if she ate the pancakes her sister had made her. She was incredibly happy Alexa had decided to come, even if her culinary skills were somewhat lacking. Alexa had been a pleasant distraction from both the presentation and missing Braden the night before. She had forgotten about the presentation for hours, and the twinge in her chest over missing Braden had been slightly relieved. Alexa's school ran all year, but every six weeks they were given time off to 'find inspiration'. Alexa had been on such a break when their father had called to tell her about Alison's exciting news, and being the good sister she was, she had decided to come to the capital for moral support.

Alison jumped when she heard the large double doors of the room open. She could smell the tea before she saw it and was glad that the person entering the room was a kitchen maid named Beatrice and not the council. She was still getting control over her nerves and would need to get used to the ominous room before she would be able to professionally give her speech. The stout, older woman offered her a cup of tea and then began to carefully place cups and saucers emblazoned with the royal crest at each seat. Alison was so nervous she had finished the tea before Beatrice was even halfway done with the table. Alison had finished her second cup by the time Beatrice had properly arranged the tea pitcher on its warming plate surrounded by bowls of sugar and jars of honey. And by the time Beatrice had carefully arranged the outlines and notes that Alison had so meticulously prepared for everyone, Alison had had her fourth cup.

After insuring that everything was properly in its place, Beatrice nodded farewell, and Alison was once again left to her solitude. Five minutes passed in silence, and then five more. Alison started to feel the effects of having just downed fours cups of tea and grew concerned that the king would frown upon her needing to use the restroom during the middle of the meeting. So she stood and walked towards the door, looking around her as if she was breaking some unspoken code to stay where she was put. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and step outside the room. She had no idea where the nearest restroom was but she thought that if she just chose a direction she would eventually run into someone and they could tell her where to go. She decided to head to the right and made her way down a crimson carpeted hallway. Portraits of nobles and royals hung on the wall and sporadically a bust of an historic general or war hero would appear. She had been walking for a few minutes when she heard a voice coming from a room whose door stood slightly ajar. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop in the castle, but the man was talking so loudly she couldn't help but overhear him, or at least that is what she had told herself later that night.

"What have we heard from Aster? Has our venture been fruitful?" The voice that had asked the question was mid-ranged and obviously belonged to a young male. She would have considered it seductive if it wasn't for the raspy, airiness that accompanied it.

"We received a letter from him two days ago. He had been pleased with his troops; the struggle over the border town had gone as planned."

"Excellent." The first voice replied. "And what of our other project?"

"Taken care of milord. Your father is in a meeting with her as we speak."

"Very good Stephan, very good. Find a way to keep her in the capital for the time being. She will be most useful."

"Consider it done milord."

Alison heard footsteps approach her from inside the room, and she quickly ducked behind the nearest stone bust, hoping to remain unseen. The man who emerged had hair so short he almost appeared bald. He was of middle height and stocky build, and his thickset frame and broad shoulders awkwardly filled out the black suit that was common issue for members of the security staff at the castle. Luckily for her, his dark eyes had remained focused in the direction of his issued task, and once she had heard the man's footsteps fade away into the distance, she was able to safely leave her hiding spot. Her shock at what she had overheard had caused her to momentarily forget why she had been out in the hallway to begin with. After another few minutes of searching she had found her original destination. Upon exiting the overly decorated ladies room she suddenly realized how long she must have been gone, and quickly made her way back to the meeting room.


By the time she had gotten back, the council had arrived and was waiting on her. Embarrassed, she respectfully curtsied to King Medeas before re-taking her seat, intentionally avoiding the gazes of the other men by playing with her fingernails.

"My dear there is no need to be shy." The king then turned to Beatrice who was standing against the bookshelves, "See that Ms. Morris gets a cup of tea. She looks flushed and the tea should do her some good." Focusing back on Alison, he continued, "Now my dear, why don't you tell us about your research. We are all very interested in what you have to say."

Alison did not immediately notice that the king had directly addressed her, for Beatrice had been standing next to the stocky man she had just seen exit that room. The man was standing with his arms clasped behind his back. He suit coat lay unbuttoned and she could make out the hilt of a pistol holstered to his side. What do these people want with me? Why do they need armed security here?!? The silence in the room had snapped her attention from the security officer, and she realized that the king had asked something of her. The king was a tall, muscular man in his late 50's, with dark hair that was fighting with all its strength to combat the grey hairs threatening to usurp it. He stared expectantly at her, and looking into his eye, she saw that even if he wasn't the king his mature handsomeness and self-possession would have captured everyone's attention in the room.

Realizing that the king expected her to begin, Alison rose from her seat and stood so that she could clearly be seen.

"Umm..." She nervously began. Every seat at the table was filled, and there were even more people who stood along the walls, anxious to hear her speak. Not wanting to make a poor impression, she pushed down the fear she that had started to rise inside of her and began her speech. "Good morning. My name is Alison Morris and I'm here today to talk about my work in the emerging field of biomagical research. I've been working on this project since I was an undergraduate student at the University of Sunderland. I had been taught my freshman year that biology stopped where magic began and I just couldn't believe that..." She continued to speak for over 30 minutes about how she had managed to find the Fire gene and the steps she had taken to isolate and express it. She then briefly discussed Braden's work and concluded with the next steps in the research process and their hopes of eventually applying it to the medical field.

"That is most impressive Ms. Morris, especially for one so young. You are truly a remarkable woman." King Medeas motioned for her to re-take her seat and opened the floor for questions. The king's advisors bombarded her: Could this be done with Water and Earth as well? How long does it take to make these extracts? Could they be mass produced? How long would testing on mice take before you could move on to testing people? What kinds of side-effects could possibly result from exposure? And so on and so forth. Not wanting to let on that from personal experience she knew exactly what would happen if people were exposed to the extracts, she had only one answer for them, 'I don't know yet. More research is needed.' Sensing a pattern in her responses the king finally interrupted the council's inquiries.

"Well, I very much like what I've heard here today. It seems incredibly promising. I am sure we can come to an arrangement that would be equally beneficial to us both. Let's set up a meeting for Friday where you and I can discuss the budget and future of this project."

"Friday?" She asked, quickly becoming alarmed. Why keep me here? What do they really want with me?

"Yes, we'll meet right here; let's say around 9:30 Friday morning."

She couldn't argue with the king, and so she was forced to consent to staying in the capital for four more days. Alison was then quickly shown out of the room, put in a rather fancy looking golf cart and driven back to her father's estate.


Her father was not home when Alison arrived, which for once she was grateful for. She was in desperate need of some quiet time to contemplate what just happened. Not even bothering to go inside the house, she took the small stone pathway that twisted around the back of the main house and headed straight for the gardens. She loved her father's garden. Tall green hedges sectioned off different areas that all had their own unique theme. Her favorite section was the lily section and whenever she visited she made sure to stop by and take a nap on the cushioned bench that was found there. It was luxuriously relaxing to simply lay there and breathe in the scent of flowers and fresh air.

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