Hairy Peter and The Prisoner in Tasha's Barn

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Some years ago, I posted some of my first "Hairy Peter" novel - a parody of the (obvious) wizarding genre, as well as parodying BDSM and Femdom novels. The 4th in the series was published a little over a year ago, Hairy Peter and The Prisoner in Tasha's Barn.

For those who haven't read any of the first novel, let me set the scene:

Peter turned 18 years old and discovered he not only had magical powers but also had a place reserved for him at Fessewarts University for Witches and Wizards. Relieved to escape the unwanted attentions of huge and insatiable Lotta Bottomley Peter is somewhat surprised to find that as well as being educated in the skills of wizardry, Fessewarts specialises in sexual education of a somewhat kinky nature. As far as witches are concerned, the right place for a wizard is underneath them, preferably in considerable discomfort, and almost invariably restrained in some way. Naturally, the libido of wizards and witches is somewhat more powerful than for mere mortals, and their capacity and desire for sexual activity goes far beyond anything most of us could imagine in our wildest dreams (or nightmares).

But there are evil powers at work. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon, may be about to return, And Peter becomes (romantically?) involved with a strange, sad girl, Merry Shagger, who may be a descendant of the powerful Mad Mistress of Mooning and may have inherited some special powers.
And all that's quite without Herniame Grimwaite who is determined to learn and to try anything and everything, and to use Peter to experiment on, Don Weenie's twin sisters who find Peter particularly interesting, Olivia Birch whose speciality is whips and canes, Wong Wei the sadistic oriental lesbian, female professors with various kinks and desires, and a host of other characters with interesting and unusual characteristics. And that's quite apart from the game of Figgitch, played on six-foot Flying Phalluses (mostly).

Right. There's some of the background. Now I'll do another post on this thread with the first chapter of the newest book in the series...

 

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Hairy Peter and The Prisoner in Tasha's Barn


Chapter One
Myra


“I can’t find anyone,†said Myra unhappily.

“Don’t worry about it,†replied her mother. “These will last us for the moment.â€

She picked up the whip. The man in front her moaned, straining against the cuffs that held his arms high above his head.

“Be quiet,†warned Natasha. “I haven’t done anything yet. Really, Myra, I think I’m going to have to gag them.â€

“Don’t do that, mother,†said Myra. “I love to hear a man scream in pain.â€

She walked casually over to the naked man and ran her fingernails down his chest, hard enough to leave thin, red lines all the way to his groin. She gripped him in one hand and squeezed. He squealed.

“Lovely,†said Myra, releasing her grip and then squeezing repeatedly. The man gasped and shrieked in pain. “But he’s not even a wizard,†Myra continued, holding him with enough pressure to make him squirm continuously. “I didn’t take him, did I?â€

Her mother shook her head. “No,†she said. “It was Electra. I think she said she found him drunk outside The Firkin Seat in Asfixi-by-Mooning.â€

“She took an awful risk,†said Myra, letting go of the prisoner and giving him a stinging slap on his buttocks with the flat of her hand. “The village is still full of phylaxes. You would have thought they had better things to do while the university students are on holiday, wouldn’t you? What do they think they’re guarding? There’s no one there but a lot of ancient professors who wouldn’t know a bit of bondage and sadism from a vicar’s tea party.â€

“Don’t criticise until you know a lot more about it,†advised her mother. “You’ll be going there next term. We were lucky they agreed to take you, right in the middle of the university year.â€

“Lucky?†Myra aimed a particularly vicious slap between the man’s legs. “It wasn’t luck. They took me because I’m a very talented witch. I expect they’re hoping I’ll graduate and become famous. Some chance! I’m there for one reason only, as you well know.â€

“You’ll need to be very careful,†warned Natasha Majester. “Those witches and wizards come from a very different background, and they don’t think like us. Don’t forget, none of your sisters went to university. Neither did I, and neither has anyone in our family, as far as I know. We keep ourselves to ourselves. We’re not interested in what outsiders do or think, so you may find it’s not so easy to fit in.â€

“I wouldn’t have to go if you were more careful with the prisoners,†Myra pointed out. “I don’t know what’s the matter with them, but after a few months they just seem to give up the will to live.â€

“It’s not me,†Natasha pointed out. “It’s you and your sisters. I’ve kept you all away from the Major, and he’s been here since not long after you were born. He’s as fit as he always was.â€

“And all the others since then?†asked Myra. “You can’t blame it all on my sisters. I know very well that you haven’t let any of us touch them until you thought we were old enough, so that’s less than ten years even for Maya. How many did you get through before then? Ten? Twenty?â€

“Probably around thirty,†admitted Natasha. “But, as I said, Major Orson Petter has been here nearly nineteen years, and he’s every bit as good as he was when I first took him.â€

“That’s not so great,†said Myra. “One of these days you’ll have trouble there. He was a wizard, and one of the best, wasn’t he? Electra said he’s a metamorph, so if he ever gets out of that dungeon we’ll all have problems.â€

“There’s no chance of that,†declared her mother. “He can’t use his magic while he’s in those rooms, and do you think any wizard would have the slightest chance against the eight of us if he did? It’s not going to be a problem.â€

“One day someone will come looking for him,†said Myra pessimistically. “Someone somewhere will be wondering why he was never found.â€

“I doubt it,†her mother told her. “There’s even less risk than with most of the others. Don’t forget that when I took him the dark wizards were at their strongest. He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon and his followers were killing witches and wizards all over the place. No one would ever suspect a witch whose desires were most obviously conventional. I like my wizards, Myra, as you and your sisters have always done too. I can think of nothing better than having a wizard tied up and in pain, and that is exactly what the Ministry expects of a normal witch. There is nothing about me, or any of us, that would raise the slightest suspicion, and Major Petter was a prime target for the dark wizards. He was the liaison officer with the non-magical government. He was recognised by them as a very effective operative in their security services. He represented everything that He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon wanted to destroy.â€

 

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“We can’t take any risks,†insisted Myra. “You know we’re on top of one of the Seats of Power. Can you imagine what would happen if he managed to tap into that? It’s not impossible, even though I know very well that you haven’t managed to do it in all the years you’ve been trying.â€

“We’re just on top of a vein, not on a Seat of Power†Natasha corrected her. “The veins just connect them.â€

“You’ve told me that before,†said Myra. “I’m not sure I understand it.â€

Her mother sighed. “And you’re supposed to be the intelligent one who’s going to university. The more I think about it, the more I worry. All right. I’ll explain it again. The Mooning Hills, the hilly area around Mount Moon, are on top of one of the strongest concentrations of elemental power in the world. It may well be the strongest. That’s why Fessewarts Castle was built here, and why the Mistress of Mooning chose it for her headquarters. It’s also why settlers built the village of Asfixi-by-Mooning, as well as all the other obvious reasons for settling here like the streams that flow down from the hills. As you’ll remember from your elementary schooling, I hope, no one chooses to live where there isn’t a plentiful water supply. Magic alone is not enough.â€

Myra nodded, looking bored already. “I know all that,†she said scornfully. “It’s the ‘Seats of Power’ I don’t understand. Surely there’s either this elemental magic, or there isn’t.â€

“A Seat of Power is invariably deep in the ground,†Natasha continued. “Nearly always it’s in a deposit of volcanic rock that seems to hold and concentrate the power. It was once believed that the rock itself is magical, but I think it’s fairly certain these days that elemental power merely finds the rock a suitable receptacle. I’m not going to try to explain it. I’ll leave that to your professors at Fessewarts. I’m sure they’ll have their own theories. I only know what our family has found out over the centuries we’ve lived here.â€

“So we’re right at the centre,†said Myra. “We must be. Our house is on the edge of Mount Moon.â€

“No!†said Natasha in exasperation. “I’ve told you again and again, and still you don’t listen to me. Our house was built here because one of your ancestors assumed that the centre of power was right in the centre of the largest hill. He was wrong. We are very close to one of the smaller concentrations of power. The elemental lines of force converge in these hills, certainly. That has been known for centuries, but if my calculations are correct, the point of focus, where the lines of force actually meet, is underneath Fessewarts Castle itself.â€

“So the Mistress of Mooning got it right!â€

“I don’t think so,†Natasha disagreed. “If she had known, I think she would have mined the rock to build the castle from that particular spot. She didn’t. Her building material came from a little further away. Fessewarts’ Lake is her quarry, and she mined deeper in search of more powerful concentrations from where the village of Asfixi-by-Mooning now stands. I believe the entrance to her old mineshaft still exists, or so Madam Lasheem claims.â€

Myra stepped away from the man she was tormenting, pulled out her spell crop and examined it.

“She still mines it?â€

“Maybe,†her mother nodded. “As you know, we had the greatest difficulty in persuading Madam Lasheem to make crops for you and your sisters. Other crop makers are far less particular, but the Ministry has tightened the regulations and I think it’s clear they believe Madam Lasheem’s crops do more than just channel a witch’s or wizard’s own abilities. Only materials from a Seat of Power could do that.â€

“So we’re not even at any of the Sources of Power?â€

“It’s not quite like that. I do wish you would listen properly. We shouldn’t be talking about sources of power. They’re not. They are concentrations of power, where elemental forces come together and are stored if suitable material exists to hold them. It so happens that the Mooning Hills and the area around them has a particularly large amount of the rock that has the perfect structure to absorb and hold the power, and the lines of power that circle the world happen to converge here. We’re close to a mass of the rock, right in the middle of Mount Moon, and we’re over a spur of rock, a ‘vein’, that happens to connect the main concentration at the very centre of the lines’ convergence with the other local concentrations.â€

“How many other concentrations? Where are they?†asked Myra.

“One, as I said, is slightly to this side of Mount Moon. Another is a little further away, but you can see the spot from here. One is under Madam Lasheem’s shop in Asfixi-by-Mooning. One, the main concentration, is just the other side of what is now Fessewarts University. One, somewhat depleted now, I think, is under and around Fessewarts Lake. It’s more difficult to describe the locations of the other two, but I’ve visited them all, although not since you were born.â€

“Seven?†asked Myra. “And you had seven children, all witches. What a coincidence!â€

Natasha looked at her daughter with a slight smile on her face. “Don’t assume it’s a coincidence,†she said. “Now stand out of the way. You’ve delayed this whipping quite long enough.â€

 

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Chapter Two
The Bottomleys


Peter groaned.

He heard the slam of the front door downstairs, and he knew that Lotta had come home. For the tenth time since Inger Bottomley had fastened the straps around his wrists and ankles, he wriggled and strained in the hope of finding some way to free himself.

It was his own fault. Since the beginning of the university holiday when he had returned to the Bottomleys, he had been remarkably successful at avoiding the unwanted attentions of Lotta Bottomley and her mother Inger. It was true that he had been confined to Lotta’s bedroom and the little en suite bathroom that Eustace had had constructed just before the start of the Christmas holidays, but that suited Peter very well.

Peter’s last week at Fessewarts University had been exhausting. Both Sherina Weenie and Hecate Wistman demanded his time and attention, and Peter had no idea what to do about either of them. He found them both very desirable in very different ways, although he knew it was going to be impossible to continue indefinitely with the delicate balancing act of keeping them both happy.

Herniame was another problem. It was not that she seemed to have any particular desire for Peter, nor he for her, any more than any reasonably good-looking witch and wizard were attracted to each other. Herniame was a friend, and someone Peter knew he could trust – even if he became intensely annoyed at her from time to time. The problem was simply that Herniame regarded Peter as someone with whom she could experiment; someone who was willing to undergo any and all physical experiences in advance of Herniame putting her ideas into practice in a serious relationship. Additionally, Herniame was genuinely interested in knowledge simply for the sake of knowledge, and as her particular interest at the moment was in the connection between pain and pleasure, Peter had found her demands over the last few days of the university term to be more than a little uncomfortable.

Even with his attention split three ways in the limited spare time between lectures, Peter would have been able to cope without it becoming too much of a problem. These three, however, were not all. At almost every turn, Peter was confronted by the Ministry’s most adept and most unusual phylax, Nymphomona Bonks. Her role as security specialist at the university did not seem to be taking up much of Nymphomona’s time, and her attention appeared to be concentrated on her other favourite pastime, with Peter as her preferred partner. At least, Peter assumed he was her preferred partner, although Nymphomona’s seemingly endless capacity for sexual activity might well have involved several other wizards on the occasions she was unable to find Peter. The greatest problem for Peter was that he found Nymphomona impossible to refuse. She only had to come close to him, and no matter how tired he was, his arousal was immediate and she knew it. Peter was unsure whether it was some magical charm around her or whether it was the way she dressed or more simply the overwhelming sensuality of her body and her personality. He only knew that once she was within a few feet of him wearing, as always, her unconventional leather suit or supple leather top unzipped nearly to the waist and those tight leather trousers with long black boots, her eyes flashing random colours, he would end up on his back in the nearest unoccupied chamber for at least the next hour.

It might have been surprising to learn that with all the activity Peter was obliged to undergo with those four witches, he still took the time to visit Sarah. Quite possibly it was because the old witches’ bathroom was not somewhere anyone else chose to go, and somewhat less likely to be on many students’ lists of favourite places after the unfortunate incident with Professor Drencham and the discovery of the Mad Mistress of Mooning’s execution chamber underneath it. The huge bath, still operational, with its stunningly beautiful statues on the centre plinth, was the perfect place to relax and to let the swirling water soothe away aches and worries. Peter could have easily ignored the demands from the bathroom’s resident ghost, or put up with the mild inconvenience of a slight chill on the front of his body when she decided to shed her clothes and take advantage of a naked wizard enjoying a pleasant soak in the bath.

Sarah, however, was a pleasant diversion for Peter. As tired as he usually was, Sarah’s attention was always welcome. He was happy for her to materialise into something more solid than the nearly transparent image she always presented when she first appeared. Ectoplasm was by far Peter’s favourite. The texture of the ghostly material was so sensual, and Sarah’s enthusiasm and energy was so inexhaustible, that Peter was always guaranteed a coupling with her that left him both satisfied and comfortable; something that he rarely achieved with any of his other partners. Also, there was the definite advantage that Sarah found materialising into ectoplasm very tiring. Despite her boundless energy when in action, as soon as she had finished she invariably disappeared altogether or merely sat silent and motionless at the edge of the huge bath. It was infrequent that she insisted on utilising one of the beautiful statues, and although he had not yet refused her, he was grateful she usually avoided that particular materialisation. As beautiful as the statues were, and as flowing and sensual as the stone became as soon as Sarah materialised inside it, it was still stone. It was heavy, abrasive despite its smoothness, and Sarah was no less energetic in the stone statue than in ectoplasm. It hurt, and when, at times of climax for Sarah or simply when she felt like being particularly wicked, she allowed the stone to set solidly, it was downright agony for Peter. On one occasion she actually left the statue altogether and sat next to Peter, laughing as he tried unsuccessfully to free himself from the solid stone that now gripped him inescapably.

Peter’s main concern, however, was neither these witches nor the ghostly Sarah. Professor Twist was rarely out of his mind. She had told him quite firmly that she expected nothing from him, and that no one would know of the baby she was now carrying. She had also told him that any sort of relationship between them could not continue. Peter had had no intention of continuing any sort of relationship. His liaisons with her at the beginning of that term were most definitely the result of something that had briefly changed his normal outlook on almost everything and on witches in particular. Instead of being a reasonably typical wizard, content to allow witches to dominate, he had had the urge to become dominant and, to put it mildly, to make love to every witch who did not refuse him. It was quite unexpected to find that Professor Twist, the representative of the Ministry and standing for everything that was right and proper in wizarding society, succumbed to his advances. In fact, as far as Peter could remember, it was she who had instigated the whole affair. It was most peculiar, and all the more so because it rapidly became clear that Professor Twist much preferred not to assume the dominant role and was at her happiest on her back underneath him.

Even so, it did not last for long, and now it was over. Professor Twist had made that quite clear. Her unfortunate state was not Peter’s problem, she said. He was not to be blamed, and it should have been entirely her responsibility to make clear that the magic in and around Fessewarts Castle that ensured student witches could not become pregnant did not apply to professors. She should have taken the proper precautions, so now she would deal with the consequences. Peter need not worry about any of it.

The last time he had made love with her, however, was something of a surprise for both of them. His bizarre desire to dominate and make love to every witch he could find had long since worn off. He had been in her chambers with the sole intention of stealing a book that Professor Drusilla Drencham had dropped and that might have given the clue to the reasons behind some rather unusual events. If only Peter had been aware that Professor Twist already knew why he was there, then undoubtedly he would have not felt inclined to make up the excuse that he was there because he desperately wanted her. If only Herniame, watching the events unfold, had been aware of it.

Had the first criterion been met, Peter would have not tried to make love to Professor Twist. Had the second criterion been met instead, Peter would probably not have been unable to perform to the professor’s satisfaction or his own, and any pretence of deep desire and arousal would have vanished. Instead, Herniame’s surreptitiously whispered incantation had a most remarkable effect on both Peter and the professor. The results were dramatic. To say that the Earth moved would be an understatement. To say that the Universe moved would be closer. It was, without any shadow of a doubt, the Big Bang.

It was only on the last day of term, just when Peter had assumed there were going to be no further problems with Professor Twist, she called him as he was heading towards the Grindonner Common Room.

“Peter,†she said, “What were those incantations that Miss Grimwaite whispered through my door when we were… I mean, the last time you came to my chambers?â€

“I don’t know,†Peter told her.

“Would you find out, please,†asked the Professor. “I expect it will be next term now, but I want you to come and see me as soon as you have the answer.â€

“Yes, Professor,†said Peter, wondering why she wanted to know.

 

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Almost as if she read his mind, she replied, “I really think we ought to try those again, Peter. It was rather special, wasn’t it?†but before Peter could reply, she had marched off towards the lecture rooms.

With all this, and more, on his mind, Peter had not wanted to do any more than relax at the Bottomleys. A three-week break seemed a highly attractive proposition, and he thought he knew just the way to achieve it.

As usual, he had gone meekly to the room and allowed Eustace Bottomley to slam the door and to lock it. He knew Lotta would be up later, and he also knew she would demand to sit on him until she had achieved at least two orgasms. He also knew that it was highly unlikely Inger Bottomley would leave him alone during the day while Lotta was out at work.

He was ready. The moment the door opened, his spell crop was in his hand pointed straight at Lotta’s head. He knew very well that the enchantment on that house prevented him using magic inside it, but he also suspected that the Bottomleys were not aware of that fact. He had spent two full terms at Fessewarts University for Witches and Wizards now, and even if the reports of the events with He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon and dark wizards had not filtered back to the non-magical Bottomleys, they would realise that by now he had a significant array of spells, incantations and charms at his disposal.

“If you so much as touch me,†he warned Lotta, “I’ll turn you into a slimy toad. Got it?â€

Lotta turned and ran wailing to her mother, without even locking the door behind her. Peter waited for the wrath of Inger and Eustace, but when it came it was far milder than he expected. Both of them were as nervous of him as Lotta now clearly was. Both promised he would be left alone, and it was with great difficulty they managed even to coax Lotta to ask him if she could sleep in her own bed.

“Of course,†said Peter, indicating the very large, new bed, specially strengthened to take Lotta’s weight and her exertions when she chose to sit on Peter.

“But where are you going to sleep?†asked Lotta, ready to turn and run at the slightest sign of Peter producing his spell crop.

“With you, naturally,†Peter told her.

She almost fainted.

“You can’t do that,†she moaned, “I might touch you by mistake and then you’ll turn me into a slimy toad.â€

Peter almost laughed. He kept a straight face with great difficulty. “You could sleep on the floor, I suppose,†he told her, “But it’s not very comfortable. I used to sleep under your bed, remember?â€

Peter had no particular problem with Lotta sharing the huge bed if she wanted to. His only problem was when she decided to throw herself on top of him and use his face to obtain one of her earth-shaking climaxes. Lotta, as large as she was, was clean, fragrant, and if it were not for her weight, her over-enthusiastic desire to sit on Peter, and a insatiable urge for regular and repeated sexual satisfaction, she would be a pleasant girl, if not particularly bright or particularly beautiful. As Chancellor Fumblebum had once remarked to Peter, the behaviour of both Inger and Lotta was often remarkably witchlike for two completely non-magical females.

“I need to sleep on the bed,†said Lotta apprehensively.

“That’s fine,†said Peter. “I’m sure we won’t have a problem, will we?â€

“No,†Lotta assured him. “I won’t touch you, I promise.â€

She kept her promise, although Peter would probably not have noticed anything less than a full-scale assault from both Lotta and Inger on the first three nights at the Bottomleys. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He slept solidly, and for most of the days as well, waking only when Inger Bottomley called him cautiously to tell him she had brought him a meal. It was so very different from being tied up and forced to share a bed with Lotta as had happened previously.

On the fourth night, something awoke Peter not long after midnight. He lay on his back listening for whatever it was.

“Did I wake you?†whispered Lotta. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.â€

It took Peter only a few minutes to fall asleep again.

On the following night, something again awoke him, and this time he was careful not to move. He wanted to know what it was that Lotta was doing at this hour of the night. He grinned to himself when he found out, and immediately turned over and went back to sleep.

For seven consecutive nights Peter was awoken by Lotta’s nocturnal activities. It was not that he particularly needed the sleep, because he had plenty of time to sleep during the day if he wanted. What Peter found increasingly frustrating was what she was doing, and more she did it, the more frustrated he became.

Peter had no desire to do anything at all with the very large Lotta Bottomley, but it was hardly surprising that by this time he most definitely wanted to do something with someone, and the way he was beginning to feel, almost anyone would do. He was, after all, a wizard, and wizards’ libidos are so much more powerful and less easily satisfied or suppressed than those of non-magical people.

“Do you need anything else?†Inger Bottomley had asked as she picked up his tray after he had finished his lunch.

Peter glanced at her. She was no older than Professor Twist, and probably a good few years younger than Madam Seleet who had so frequently aroused Peter and “tested his abilities†at Fessewarts Hospital after Figgitch matches and practice sessions. Twenty years ago she would have been reasonably attractive or, at the very least, desirable enough to interest any man or wizard desperate for female company. Now, it would take a really desperate man or wizard to make the effort to become close to her.

Peter was really desperate. He also knew that it was unlikely to be much of an effort.

“Well?†asked Inger. “Was there something?â€

“Actually, yes,†said Peter. “I wondered whether you wanted… you know. Like we did at the start of the Christmas holidays while Lotta was out. It’s not important if you don’t… I just thought maybe you…?â€

Inger stepped right into the room for the first time since Peter had arrived at her house nearly two weeks previously. She shut the door behind her.

“Of course,†she said. “I shall treat you as a witch should treat a wizard, of course. I know all about it.â€

Peter was sure she did know all about it. Her desires were, as he had previously discovered, very similar to many witches he had met.

“That’s all right,†he said, trying to sound unconcerned. He wondered whether he was making a mistake, and whether Inger was as bad as he remembered her. So much had happened since Christmas. Surely it would not be too terrible? And he really did need someone.â€

“Take off your shirt and lie on the bed,†instructed Inger, and as soon as he complied, she fastened heavy leather cuffs around each of his wrists, drawing his arms up towards the top corners of the bed. He did not resist her. It was what he expected.

Inger smiled down at him. There was something in her smile that rang distant alarm bells in the darkest corners of Peter’s mind, but as yet he could not think why he was worried. He was sure that Inger was still scared he might use his magic powers at any moment.

“So, Peter,†Inger almost purred. “Tied to the bed and helpless, aren’t you?â€

“I suppose so,†agreed Peter. He was quite happy to play that sort of game if she found it arousing. He really wished she would hurry up with what she was going to do.

“And,†said Inger, “Wizards can’t do magic when both their arms are held above their heads like that, can they?â€

Peter had forgotten. He cursed his stupidity.

“I can,†he said, trying to sound convincing. “Chancellor Fumblebum taught me.â€

Inger stepped back. “All right, Peter,†she said softly. “Let’s see it. Let’s see you free yourself from those cuffs.â€

Peter knew he was in trouble. Inger waited only a minute or two to see if he would make any effort to escape, and then she jumped onto the bed. Within a few seconds she had removed his trousers and buckled his ankles into similar cuffs attached to the lower corners of Lotta’s bed.

She sat on him. It was, naturally, what a witch would do to a wizard. Mrs Bottomley, however, sat on Peter in almost every way he could possibly be sat on, and in some ways that he had never even considered to be possible or desirable for her any more than for him. She was as he remembered her at Christmas. She was inventive, intense, sadistic and, above all, insatiable. Several times Peter was close to losing consciousness, only to be jerked back to reality by sudden pain. Several times Inger’s powerful and proficient techniques brought him to a climax, and several times she merely brought him close to climax without taking him over the edge. How many times Inger herself actually reached a climax, Peter had no idea. With Inger it was difficult to tell. From the moment she removed his trousers, she seemed to be in some sort of state of continuous orgasm, her body quivering constantly with frequent, rapid muscle spasms as she moaned, gasped and groaned.

Finally, she stood back, sweating and breathing deeply.

“Lotta will be home in a moment,†she told him. “I’ll let her know the good news.â€

 

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Chapter Three
Herniame

The thud-thud of Lotta’s heavy footsteps on the stairs was much more rapid than usual. Inger had told her. Peter braced himself for the onslaught.

The door burst open, and there she stood. She took two steps into the room and she slammed the door behind her.

“Darling,†she said, in such excitement she was hardly able to get the words she wanted to say out of her mouth. “Peter! Darling… I knew you wanted me really. You could have said. You could have let me know. All those nights we’ve wasted, next to each other, not even touching… You wouldn’t believe how frustrated I’ve been… We just have to make up for lost time.â€

Lotta certainly seemed anxious to make up for lost time. Before Peter was able to think of a suitable reply, and moving with remarkable speed for someone of such huge bulk, Lotta was on the bed kneeling astride his chest. She gazed down at him fondly.

“You’re so sweet,†she told him happily. “We’re going to have such a wonderful time together from now on. I promise you I won’t hold back at all. I’m going to give you everything I’ve got.â€

She removed her top and then struggled with her bra. Peter watched in horror as her huge breasts fell forward, unrestrained, towards him.

“Do you like them?†she asked, leaning forwards.

“They’re very…†stuttered Peter, unsure whether it was safer to tell the truth or to try to think of something complimentary to say.

“I knew you did!†Lotta was ecstatic. “Men like girls with big breasts, don’t they?â€

The sea of flesh came closer to Peter’s face, threatening to drown him.

“No you don’t!†said Lotta, although Peter had not moved at all. “You’re not going to play with them yet. I need some kissing first.â€

Peter knew just what she meant. It was what he had been dreading. Lotta moved forward until she knelt astride his face. Slowly, she descended onto him.

“Kiss,†she demanded.

Peter kissed. In fact, he kissed, licked, and sucked frantically as soon as she came within range of his mouth. He knew very well that once she started, Lotta would not leave him until she had had at least one orgasm, and he knew just what he needed to do to speed the process. He also knew that he was unlikely to succeed until she was pressed down firmly on top of him, his face buried in her flesh that steadily became wetter and wetter, unable to breathe until either she reached her climax or he passed out from lack of air and the sheer weight on his face.

It was no good. His attempts to produce the stimulation that might, just possibly might, send her into squealing, shuddering ecstasy and then fall back onto the bed with a thump that would be heard throughout the house and probably outside it as well, failed almost before they started. Lotta wanted far more than his mouth alone was able to provide.

She sank down; and down, and down. Long before she settled, her flesh had enveloped Peter’s face completely and his whole head very nearly disappeared between her legs. Lotta sighed in contentment, and began to rock back and forth.

There was no escape. Even if Peter had not been tied to the bed, Lotta’s sheer weight and bulk would have held him firmly beneath her in the sticky, fleshy, airless world he had come to hate and fear at the Bottomley’s. This time, it seemed, Lotta was in no hurry at all. Being a wizard, Peter knew that he was probably in no real danger. Wizards were far more resilient than non-magical men when it came to the over-enthusiastic desires of a witch or any woman. To lose consciousness was, for a wizard, a not uncommon event when he found himself underneath a witch, particularly if she was larger then most. Peter resigned himself to losing consciousness as he had done so often before, yet still he was unable to suppress the feelings of total panic as his lungs began to scream for air. It was no good telling himself that she would finish with him, as she always did, long before any real damage was done to him. He knew it, but however hard he tried, he could not convince the instinctive reactions of his body that he was not going to end his days under this fleshy mountain of a girl.

Vaguely, just as Lotta began to increase her movements on top of him, Peter heard a noise that was definitely not coming from Lotta. He was familiar with all manner of noises that did regularly come from her: the gurgles of her guts; the moans and sighs and other little noises of pleasure; the squeals and screams as she reached a climax; the frequent passing of wind. This noise was quite different, and some of it seemed to be coming from somewhere well away from the bed. He tried to concentrate on it and identify it.

“Lotta! There’s someone here to see Peter.â€

“Not now, Mother. I’m busy. Tell them to go away.â€

Peter was sure that he heard the door opening, but Lotta continued her movements on top of him.

“I can’t send her away.â€

It was definitely Inger Bottomley’s voice that time.

“Why not? Mother! Go out. You can see I’m busy. This is private.â€

“I can’t send her away because it’s a witch and she insists on seeing Peter straight away.â€

Lotta squealed. Judging by the shuddering that accompanied the squeal, it was a squeal that encompassed feelings of annoyance, maybe even of fear, as well as feelings of her approaching climax.

“A moment,†gasped Lotta. “Give me a moment. Just a minute. Go and…â€

The movements became faster and more urgent. Lotta’s body squeezed and shuddered with a force and need that Peter had never known from her. She squealed again, and went on squealing, her squeals rising and falling in tone and volume as she moved.

“Get off him, right now.â€

 

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Peter knew that voice. A series of images went rapidly through his mind. Was she standing, arms folded impatiently? Perhaps she had her hands on her hips and an expression of exasperation on her face? Judging from the tone, however, it was quite likely she was holding her spell crop and pointing it threateningly at Lotta. Peter wondered whether she knew that magic would not work in this house.

There was no stopping Lotta now. Even the threat of some horrendous magical curse was not enough to make her so much as pause this close to an orgasm. It would have been easier to stop a herd of stampeding elephants than to make Lotta break off what she was doing at that moment.

When it came, it was more violent than anything Peter had ever experienced. Lotta’s scream was deafening. Her thighs clamped together, the very small part of Peter’s head that had remained visible disappearing altogether. As if pressure from the sides was not enough, Lotta’s whole body lurched into a downward movement onto him, and at the same time as her thighs clamped together her hips and buttocks spread apart. It was inexplicable, and almost incomprehensible, but the effect on Peter was devastating. The lower part of his face was forced into Lotta as though she had quite deliberately opened up to swallow him. In his dazed state, all Peter could think of was that it was somehow very much like being born in reverse. Weird thoughts went through his mind. He wondered vaguely whether his whole head was going to end up inside Lotta, and what would happen if the rapid expansion of her lower parts reversed and she contracted to her normal size. Would he suffocate? Would he be drowned? Or would he be strangled as she closed and tightened on his neck?

Nothing quite so dramatic happened. It all lasted no more than a few seconds. As she usually did after a satisfactory climax, Lotta fell back and slightly to one side, hitting the bed next to Peter with a thump that threatened to break even this reinforced structure. She lay motionless, gasping.

“I’m sorry to spoil your fun, Peter,†said Herniame calmly as she tucked her spell crop away under her clothes, “But I wondered whether you needed to be rescued? I was talking to Chancellor Fumblebum earlier, and he suggested that you had probably spent long enough with the Bottomleys for this particular break. On the other hand, as I can see that you seem to be enjoying yourself…â€

“Um… no. No. No! Not at all,†protested Peter as soon as he could speak. “I’ll be happy to get out of here!â€

Lotta groaned softly as Peter struggled to leave the bed when Herniame had released him from the restraints. Her explosive orgasm had left her as exhausted as Peter had been, but she reached out in a feeble effort to stop him leaving. By pure chance, because her eyes were still closed, she caught hold of his genitals. She held on tightly. Peter yelped in pain.

“Let go of him,†ordered Herniame.

“My Peter,†murmured Lotta insistently. “Not letting go. Keeping him here. Nice.â€

Herniame drew her spell crop again.

“It’s not going to work,†gasped Peter, trying desperately to dislodge Lotta’s grip on him. “You can’t do magic in this house. It’s protected.â€

“I’m not stupid,†said Herniame, giving him a withering look. “There are more uses for a spell crop than doing magic.â€

She struck Lotta sharply on the arm with the crop. Lotta yelped in pain, but the only other result was that Peter also yelped as Lotta’s arm jerked and pulled him painfully towards her.

Herniame walked around the bed, considering the situation from all angles. She raised the crop again. Peter cringed, but this time the blow did not land on Lotta’s arm. It found its target on Lotta’s ample backside. She squealed, but it took ten more strokes of Herniame’s spell crop before Lotta let go of Peter and he fell to the floor, grasping his genitals in agony.

“Get dressed,†instructed Herniame. “Hurry up.â€

Peter struggled into his clothes as quickly as he could.

“Um… Herniame…†he called across the room as he was putting on his socks, “I think you can stop doing that now.â€

“What? Why?†demanded Herniame as she continued to whip the squealing, squirming Lotta. “A good whipping will do her good.â€

“Possibly,†Peter agreed cautiously. “Don’t give her ideas. I expect I’ll have to come back here in the summer holidays.â€

Herniame paused, crop raised to strike again. “I suppose so,†she consented. “What a pity. We were just getting to the real pain. Are you ready?â€

“I’m ready,†Peter told her. “Is Don outside with the car? Or Mr Weenie?â€

Herniame shook her head as she led the way out of the room and down the stairs. “We can’t go to The Borough,†she told him. “That part of London is far too heavily patrolled by the phylaxes from the Ministry. They’re still very nervous about dark forces, apparently, and Chancellor Fumblebum says there has been a lot in the wizarding press about how you might be connected with them. The Borough is far too close to the Ministry. You wouldn’t be safe there. I’m taking you somewhere else.â€

She paused for a moment.

“Anyway,†she added, “I have something in mind for you, Peter. We still have a whole week before we have to be back at the university. Wong Wei and I are getting bored at my house.â€

“What?â€

“What do you mean?â€

“Wong Wei?â€

“You knew Wong Wei was coming to stay with me,†Herniame told him.

“Yes,†agreed Peter, “But… that was at the beginning of the holidays.â€

“Oh, she’s still with me,†Herniame confirmed. “We get on very well together, and as my parents are still away and hers are travelling somewhere in Asia, it’s the perfect arrangement. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone else at all apart from Chancellor Fumblebum since we went home from Fessewarts. You’re the first.â€

Peter was still somewhat at a loss. From what he knew of Herniame, which, he had thought, was just about everything, he could not quite understand how she could be spending so much time with the sadistic lesbian Wong Wei.

“But, Wong Wei…†he murmured.

“You’re not prejudiced, Peter?†Herniame asked. “Or jealous?â€

“No, no, of course not,†stuttered Peter.

“Well you should be jealous.†Herniame was suddenly indignant, and then she smiled. “I’m only joking. Come on. We need to get moving. Unless of course you would prefer I left you with Lotta and Inger?â€

Peter followed Herniame into the street, wondering whether he was making the right choice.

 

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Chapter Four
Sandrock

It was dark. The street outside the Bottomley’s house was no different from any other quiet suburban street. Peter had been in this street many times before, but this time there was something about it that made him feel very uncomfortable.

“Herniame…†he whispered.

“Hush. I know. I can feel it too.â€

Herniame already had her spell crop out, and Peter quickly drew his.

“Watch for non-magical people,†she warned. “We don’t want them seeing anything they shouldn’t. It takes a lot of effort to do a muddle spell and we don’t have time to hang around.â€

Peter wondered whether the inhabitants of a suburban town would be particularly concerned at the sight of two students waving what no doubt appeared to be nothing more than short riding crops, but Herniame was already hurrying down the road and he followed quickly.

“How are we getting to…?†he began, and then realised that he had no idea where they were going. “Where do you live?†he asked.

“Sandrock,†she told him. “It’s near Cambridge.â€

“And how are we getting there? Did you come here on your own?â€

“I’m on my own,†Herniame told him. “Wong Wei was busy getting the house ready. She’s very domesticated; it really surprised me. Here we are.â€

Peter looked around them. There was no sign of any transport suitable to take them to Cambridge. They were by a small row of shops, all closed at this time of the evening. Herniame knocked on a door that opened immediately, and she pulled Peter inside.

“Thank you, Miss Pitka.â€

Miss Pitka closed the door behind them, peering through the blind into the dark street beyond.

“Did you see anyone?â€

Herniame shook her head. “No, but there’s someone or something out there. We could both feel it. If it’s something to do with dark wizards, then I’m surprised it didn’t try anything before we reached safety, but if it’s something to do with the Ministry, then why didn’t it make itself known?â€

Miss Pitka shrugged. “There’s more around than just those two sides of good and evil. At least you’re both here. Not too much can go wrong now.â€

“We still have to get to Cambridge,†Peter pointed out, feeling that he was being completely left out of the conversation.

“I’m sorry,†said Miss Pitka. “That was very rude of me. I’m Astrid, and you must be Peter. It’s so good to meet you after hearing so much about you. I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to show me the clump of green hair just to the right of your genitals shaped exactly like a peacock before you go?â€

“Miss Pitka!†exclaimed Herniame, sounding shocked.

Miss Pitka raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Well, Miss Grimwaite? Your boyfriend, is he?â€

“Well, no,†Herniame admitted. “He’s a friend.â€

“And you’ve seen the clump of green hair just to the right of his genitals shaped exactly like a peacock?†Miss Pitka asked.

“Um…â€

“Hey!†Peter interrupted. “Shouldn’t you be asking me whether I want to show my clump of green hair to anyone?â€

“No,†said Herniame and Miss Pitka simultaneously.

“And yes, Miss Pitka,†Peter continued, regardless. “Herniame has seen it. As you know, no doubt, Herniame was the one who destroyed He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon by sitting on him, so she has rather more right to see my clump of green hair that was the result of my mother’s fight with He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon than anyone else does, doesn’t she?â€

“I didn’t destroy him,†Herniame reminded Peter gently, suddenly seeing the expression on Peter’s face. Peter sat down abruptly on a chair just inside the doorway. His legs felt weak. Thoughts of his mother who had died when she tried to sit on He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon while trying to keep him away from Peter, and thoughts of Merry Shagger, his close friend who had been destroyed in the battle with He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon only the last year, were too much for him.

“Forget I asked,†said Miss Pitka. “I’m sorry, Peter. I should have realised it might bring back unpleasant memories. But we ought to get you two moving. As you rightly said, Herniame, He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Sat-Upon has most certainly not been destroyed, and even if he doesn’t have a physical presence in this world, the dark wizards are undoubtedly using his power. You’re at risk, Peter, and that’s why we have places like this.â€

“Pardon?†Peter was baffled.

“Places like this,†Miss Pitka repeated, “And Guardians like me. Surely Herniame has told you?â€

Peter shook his head, and Miss Pitka looked questioningly at Herniame.

“It’s not a secret from Peter,†she confirmed. “He was rather busy at the end of last term when Chancellor Fumblebum was putting it together, so he probably doesn’t know.â€

Miss Pitka sighed. “This is one of the Chancellor’s projects. It’s only partially complete, but when he’s finished it should be possible to go almost anywhere. Do you understand?â€

“Not in the slightest,†said Peter.

“I suppose you could call it a transport system,†continued Miss Pitka. “You arrive here, and it takes you to your destination – as long as the terminal has been completed at the other end and the Guardian is present.†She looked at Herniame. “The Guardian is going to be waiting at the Sandrock end, isn’t she? We can’t afford any delays.â€

“Of course,†Herniame nodded.

Peter was trying to focus on what he was being told. “So it’s like a train, or something?â€

“Fumblebum says it’s more like a boat,†Herniame told him. “You go to the Port Quay, get on, and then get off at the next Port Quay, and there you are.â€

“Porky?†asked Peter.

“Port Quay – pier, jetty, moorings – whatever,†corrected Herniame. “The Guardians all worked with Fumblebum for a few weeks and they sorted it out between them. It’s a very special sort of magic, and he thinks it’ll take years for the dark wizards to work it out or be able to intercept it; so much safer than trying to use Flying Phalluses or even that car of Walter Weenie’s.â€

“I liked the car,†Peter insisted. “No risk at all. It never goes wrong. No one could catch it, not even Fumblebum, and even the most powerful spells just went right through it without touching it.â€

“Maybe,†Herniame agreed irritably. “Anyway, it’s not an option. It belongs to the Ministry, even if Walter has it for the moment. Can you imagine what would happen if they asked for it back and Walter had to tell them they couldn’t have it because Peter Petter was using it to fly around the countryside? Also, I think Fumblebum is just a little nervous of it. It’s science, not magic, and most witches and wizards aren’t too happy with that sort of thing. The Ministry only tolerates it because it’s safer to have it under their control than let the non-magical people misuse it. Can you imagine what they might do with something like that?†Herniame shuddered.

“We need to get moving,†Miss Pitka reminded her.

“You’re right,†said Herniame. “Come on, Peter. You can show Astrid your clump of green hair just to the right of your genitals shaped exactly like a peacock some other time. I’m sure she’d like to play with you, but not right now.â€

Peter noticed a definite sparkle in Astrid Pitka’s eyes as she showed him the way through the back of the shop onto an expanse of smooth concrete that looked very much like a small platform at a railway station. Where the railway track should have been was a raft-like structure, apparently floating above the ground about a foot away from the edge of the platform.

“Get on and sit down,†Herniame instructed. “Hold on. I don’t think it’s possible to fall off, but anything can go wrong when you’re involved, Peter!â€

“Thanks a lot,†said Peter. “I don’t remember you managing to stay out of trouble too often either.â€

“Hurry up,†urged Astrid, and she went over to a trestle table against the wall and picked up two glass flasks. “If you’re both sitting comfortably, I shall begin.â€

She walked towards the edge of the platform where Peter and Herniame were sitting on the raft. A few feet away from them, she poured the contents of one flask into the other and swirled it around to mix the two liquids thoroughly, murmuring an incantation all the time. Immediately, a purple cloud began to rise from the flask. Instead of forming a mist around the flask, it headed towards the raft where it settled, slowly obscuring their view of the room. It had no smell or taste, although after a few seconds Peter started to feel a little dizzy. It cleared slowly.

“You got him then?â€

 

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It was not Astrid Pitka’s voice, but the figure that appeared in the clearing purple haze could well have been her twin.

“It wasn’t a problem,†Herniame told her, “But we both felt something odd on the way from the Bottomley’s to the Port Quay. Has Fumblebum said anything about any activity in the area?â€

“Not that he’s told me about,†the woman said. “As far as I know, all the Port Quays are completely clear. No one suspects anything. Do you think anyone saw you?â€

Herniame was clambering off the raft as she spoke, and Peter followed.

“Hello,†the woman said to Peter. “I’m Maria Bolnya. It’s so nice to meet you after having heard so much about you. Chancellor Fumblebum speaks very highly of you, you know. I don’t suppose it would be possible to see…?â€

“Not now,†said Peter and Herniame at once.

Maria nodded. “Quite right. You need to get him to the safety of Sandrock, I suppose.â€

“I’m sorry,†said Herniame, much to Peter’s surprise. “I know the Port Quays are some of the safest buildings in the country, but we still have quite a walk in the countryside. If someone was watching us at the other end and works out where we’ve gone, we don’t have much backup around here to help us.â€

“What makes your house safe?†asked Peter suddenly. “I mean, you’ve just been on about these Port Quays being safe and then hurrying to get to safety at your house, but your parents aren’t at all magical, are they? I’m sure you said…â€

“Yes, I’m a broodpod,†said Herniame, and Maria flinched at the word. “My parents aren’t magical, and they aren’t there right now. Fumblebum helped to put some protection in place. He says that the grounds of Sandrock are as safe as Fessewarts, and we only have to call and he’ll have the place swarming with his people in minutes. I don’t intend to be making any calls if I can help it, so I’m not advertising the fact that you’re here. I want some time alone with just you, me and Wong, that’s all.â€

Maria said nothing, but Peter could see the broad grin on her face. For the second time, Peter wondered if he had really made the right choice in coming with Herniame rather than suffering the extraordinary desires of Lotta and Inger for a little longer.

* * * * *​

“Hurry up, Peter,†insisted Herniame as Peter stumbled for the third time.

“What makes you think wizards can see in the dark?†grumbled Peter. “Why don’t we just light the spell crops like I suggested in the first place?â€

Herniame regarded him scornfully. “I can see perfectly well,†she informed him. “We don’t want to risk anyone seeing us, do we? I can’t feel whatever it was around near the Bottomleys, and I want to keep it that way. Oh do come on. We’re nearly there.â€

Herniame stopped so abruptly that Peter bumped into her. “What now?†he demanded.

“We’re here.â€

“We’re where?†asked Peter. “There’s nothing.â€

In front of them was a high wall for as far as Peter could see in either direction, and along the top of it were several strands of barbed wire.

“Alarmed,†said Herniame, pointing at the barbed wire and with a note of pride in her voice. “I had it done myself.â€

“Not much use when a dark wizard flies over the top on a Flying Phallus,†said Peter grouchily. “So how do we get in? There’s no gate.â€

“There are sensors pointing straight up,†declared Herniame. “Anything up to around ten thousand feet will set off a warning, so that takes care of most dark wizards, and the system can identify a low-flying aircraft and even tell you the type. It spots birds as well. And keeps a log of them, without setting the alarms off.â€

“Hey! This wall is round your house?â€

“Yes, of course.â€

“So how big is your house, for goodness sake?â€

“For goodness sake,†replied Herniame. “Peter! Such restrained language!â€

“All right, all right. I’m tired, fed up, and uncomfortable. We’ve trudged through dirt, mud and brambles, along tracks of dirt and gravel that no self-respecting rat would want to be seen dead on. And now you tell me that you have a house surrounded by a wall large enough to enclose a palace, or at least a stately home. What’s going on? What sort of place do you live in?â€

“Well…†Herniame looked uncomfortable.

“Well?â€

“I suppose you could call it a sort of stately home. Some people might. I don’t.â€

“You’re not telling me you live in a stately home,†said Peter. “I won’t believe you. Who do you think you are?â€

“I’m Herniame Grimwaite,†said Herniame at once. “I’m the same Herniame Grimwaite who spent the last two terms with you at Fessewarts. I’m a witch, and my parents are non-magical people. They’re….â€

“They’re Lord and Lady Grimwaite!†Peter finished for her. “Herniame, why on Earth didn’t you tell me?â€

“I did try, once or twice,†Herniame insisted defensively. “You didn’t seem very interested, so I didn’t bother. I didn’t think it was polite to be talking about my parents, when yours…. Well, you know.â€

Although he could not see her very well in the darkness, Peter knew that Herniame was blushing.

“All right,†he said, trying to keep his voice level. “So, how do we get in? I can’t see a gate.â€

“Oh, that’s no problem. It’s hidden on this side, and I didn’t want to go in the main entrance. Watch this.â€

Herniame produced her spell crop, tapped the wall twice and muttered a few words. Immediately, the wall parted, an iron gate appeared and swung open. Inside was a pathway winding across lawns towards a huge building. As they stepped through the gateway, lights came on by the sides of the path, illuminating their way to the steps up to the grand terrace at the back of the house.

Herniame giggled. “I love this view of the house at night. I used to come out here when I was little and run up and down the paths in the moonlight. Mummy and Daddy were always furious with me. They kept telling me the wild animals would get me if I was on my own in the dark, but I never took any notice. I loved the night, and I still do.â€

On the terrace, the doors to the house swung open for them.

“Come on,†said Herniame, taking Peter’s hand.

She led him through a long corridor and into a huge ballroom. It was in darkness.

“Wait for me here,†said Herniame. “I’m just going to get ready.â€

“Ready?†asked Peter, but Herniame was already on her way down the corridor.

As far as Peter could see, there was no light switch on the wall near the door to the ballroom, but there were several comfortable chairs. He sat down and waited, peering into the darkness and trying to make out the rest of the room. He could only see a few yards into it with the light from the corridor, and he was wondering whether to illuminate his spell crop to take a look around. He decided that might be unwise. After all, in a house this size there must be other people, staff employed to look after the house and the grounds, and Peter had no idea whether they were wizarding or non-magical. Herniame’s parents knew of her powers as a witch, obviously, although they had no powers of their own, but it seemed likely they would have done their utmost to keep the secret from anyone else. A moment’s carelessness by Peter could be highly embarrassing for Herniame.

As Peter’s eyes became accustom to the darkness in the room, he began to be able to make out some of it. The ceiling was far above him, with chandeliers hanging from it. On the walls were oil paintings, presumably of Herniame’s ancestors, but it was too dark to see the faces clearly. In the centre of the room, there seemed to be a statue of some sort, although Peter could hardly see it. He stared at it. There was something very odd about it, and it seemed out of place.

Peter stood up. It had to be some sort of trick of the light, but he was quite convinced that the statue had just moved. Perhaps it was his eyes playing tricks. Perhaps he had stared at it for too long. He walked into the darkness towards the statue.

It moved. He was now certain. He drew his spell crop and went forward cautiously.

A light came on behind the figure, illuminating it in silhouette. It was a woman, standing upright although Peter could not tell whether she was facing towards him or away from him. Her legs were slightly apart and her arms were slightly away from her body on either side. The contours of her body were in perfect proportion, and she appeared naked. Something trailed from her right hand to the floor. Peter froze, and then, when the figure did not move, he advanced slowly.

Everything happened at once. A spotlight came on, shining straight down from the ceiling on the woman. Her right arm moved rapidly and there was a sharp crack, and Peter’s spell crop flew out of his hand and across the room. There was another sharp crack and something coiled around Peter’s neck, dragging him forward. In the second or two before he was pulled against the figure in front of him, he realised that it was indeed a woman, facing him and not naked but wearing a figure-hugging leather catsuit, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders.

“Hello, Peter,†she purred.

“We’re going to have a wonderful time,†said Herniame from behind him. “Peter, you have no idea how exciting it is when you really start to explore pain properly. Wong Wei is just perfect.â€

Herniame cracked her whip, and then she took aim.


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