Magic Ink III: the Other Reality
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, ft/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Rape, Magic, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Incest, Cousins, First, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Pregnancy,
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Prologue - Sent by the Eternal Flame to their Grandfather's Reality to help with a serious problem, Mike and Pat, the O'Connell Grandsons, have an adventurous trip before reporting their findings, and returning home with the girls they had rescued. However, things in the Other Reality are a lot worse than anyone suspected.
"Does this seem wrong to you?" I asked Pat, as we stopped in front of the door.
"Certainly. Why would Sorcerers want to be hidden down here with the unused and forgotten, especially when that fool of limited Talent has a fine apartment on the upper floor?"he asked. We had sensed the Duke's Wizard since arriving.
"I don't know, but it certainly seems strange, and this door is locked from the outside," I observed.
"Surely they aren't prisoners!!" Pat said in shock.
"With the strength of the Talent that we can feel?" I asked him in disbelief. "Surely they can come and go at will. Mere doors or walls wouldn't stop them."
"If it was for privacy though, wouldn't the locks be on the inside?" Pat asked as we continued to pause outside the door.
"I would think so, unless there was some extraordinary reason," I replied. "There is only one way to find out." We both spoke the transport spell and traced the sign in the air for it.
We instantly materialized in a cell whose conditions were far worse than the hallway outside. It was lit only by a tiny opening near the ceiling, but the walls had a sickly greenish glow to them. The cell was filthy and the smells of vomit and excrement were rampant. Filthy straw covered the floor. The occupants were huddled on a small platform in one corner under what appeared to be a pitifully small and thin blanket.
As Pat and I took in these terrible conditions in shock, one of the occupants of the platform became aware of our presence, and roused the other occupant. They both quickly slipped from the platform to kneel on the floor in the filthy straw with bowed heads.
"We are sorry, Master. Please forgive us. We did not hear the door open. Please do not beat us. Have mercy!!" the girl pleaded in a croaking voice. Yes, they were girls - young girls - and in as filthy a condition as the disgusting cell they were being kept in.
"We are not here to hurt you," Pat assured them in the same dialect of Celtic that she had used. Both girls looked up then at the sound of his voice in shock. Their surprise was as nothing, however compared to ours for as they raised their heads we saw from the scars there that they had been