Sex stories: Dark Arts – Chapter 1B: Words – by MrPhantomille
Sunday passed without incident into the first Monday where I’d had some sort of control over my new power.
And anyone would be foolish to think I wouldn’t find some new way to abuse the heck out of it.
First was Chemistry. I had copied the three signs for the spells I’d learned into a notebook. It was strange; where before I saw only gibberish, I now saw the signs and knew what Arcanan word they were tied to. And, after a short calligraphic lesson from Luca, I’d learned some of the major differences between Arcanan Calligraphy and Chinese characters. Quite different, actually.
I looked to the chemical formulas on the board. We were going over reaction types.
“Two words…” I thought.
“Scienti desdiri” rolled off my tongue, just strong enough to be audible to anyone who might have been paying attention, which was nobody.
I focused my will upon the lust of my fellow classmates. Nothing of particular interest. A girl in the back, Becca, was thinking about some hunk in her next period. Were they having sex? I thought. Nope, came the reply of her mind. She’s… virgin? My mind half answered, half asked. Something about the aura her lust emitted made me almost sure of that.
I scanned my sixth sight forward to the teacher, who had two kids. I saw a definite different “feel” between the two. “Scienti” I uttered under my breath again, to scan her mind just a fragment deeper. I searched for sexual thoughts, feelings, experiences. I couldn’t get specifics delving into memories, but if my query returned results, I’d feel a weakness or strength in the energies I felt. Nothing. It was like the girl hardly even knew what sex was. I shot my focus to the other side of the room. A geeky kid hiding an awkward erection. Just beside him, a fairly nice girl…
“Gosh”, I thought. “She’s kind of a whore.”
Alexandria Mason. 4.0 student. Sports star, track, basketball, tennis.
Reading her aura for the first time was like seeing a dry-erase board. Some people, like the girl in the back, read pure white. Some, like the teacher, held a few marks here and there.
Hers was like a class full of caffeine-riddled eight year olds in their first drawing lesson. All sorts of markings, all sorts of places.
But it didn’t make sense, I thought. She’s nice. She’s friendly, but not slutty in the slightest.
I knew I was missing something. It was like I saw scribbles. So many marks, but I didn’t know what they meant. I couldn’t grasp the bigger picture.
I’d have to get back to Kammeryn on this.
The bell rang.
I ignored most of my other classes in favor of scanning people’s thoughts. Even the most mundane of things became more interesting given my new-found knowledge. Like when we were reading “Gone With The Wind” in English. Every time the teacher, a male, put on his character voice for Rhett Butler, one of the only girls who ever listened had a lust spike something serious. Whether she had the hots for the fictional character or the teacher, I wasn’t sure.
Last period of the day swung around seemingly quickly, my new favorite game hadn’t quite lost it’s flavor, in fact it had only picked up steam.
Drama was the only class besides lunch where I interacted with the lower classmen. I sat down in the seats in the auditorium we use for roll while my focus absentmindedly brushed past three freshman, sports snobs, ditzy mean girls. Sex experience… present. Still virgin? I went back and refocused.
Only oral. The same for all three of them.
Nobody’d ever pleasured them. They’ve only pleasured others (and themselves).
No matter how horrible they were, something made me feel sorry for them. They might not have seen it. They might have thought they were “in love” or something. Doing it for the idiotic jocks who supposedly cared about them. But they were just being used, and the only one who cared was some mystically trained junior in their Drama class who’d never, ever reach a hand out to help them.
My focus moved around almost everyone in the class.
“Shit!” I accidentally said out loud.
Gracie Monten was the sweetest, cutest little freshman in the lot. Her attire alternated between skirts and short shorts, with much more variety in the tops. Today it was a tight-fitting black tee shirt with some sparkly design, and a pair of denim shortshorts. Black Vans finished up the outfit. Her hair was short, light and blonde, and her eyes were a muted, almost milky blue. Her breasts were just coming in, A, maybe B, and her figure was slender, still holding onto most of that prepubescent baby fat. She was one full quarter into highs school but still pretty much looked like an 8th grader. “Spunky” was a great word to describe her, energy, attitude, and cuteness unlike most high schoolers.
She also had the libido of a fricking nymphomaniac.
I tried to rationalize this with what I knew about her, quite a lot despite how infrequently we’ve talked. Nothing. She seemed so innocent, so sweet. I couldn’t pinpoint this anomaly, it was even worse than Alex earlier that day.
Still a virgin.
“What?” I questioned myself. Her sexual interest and curiosity was crazy high, higher than quite a few men I’d come across.
It struck me. She’s into porn. REALLY into porn. Or something like that, I couldn’t be sure.
We took roll and the drama teacher slowly began the explanation of our next assignment. Seeing as this was my only elective of the day, I figured I could at least pay a little attention. I let the spell dim out of my mind as my focus turned instead to what the teacher was saying.
Essentially, we were going to be doing a unit on some more serious plays than we usually did, learning elements of vocal production and learning to carry emotion as we spoke. He handed us a sheet containing some overviews of scenes we could pick.
Vesti, or rather Lauren seeing as I was at school, rested her head on my shoulder.
“We gonna be partners?”
“Not this time. I want to give someone else a shot. I know how great of a liar you are already,” he said, smiling.
She didn’t seem disappointed; this wasn’t the first time I decided to experiment with different drama partners, and she decided she’d do this scene with one of her girl friends.
I scanned rapidly for something boy-girl, knowing ever since he explained the assignment exactly what I was going to do, and who I was going to do it with.
I was going to get to know the secret side of Gracie Monten.
I found some bit from a play I’d never heard of, just enough to convince her without turning her away from the idea it would be a tad romantic.
I scuttled up to her and played my cards as I always did in this class, from a purely-business, this-is-how-the-scene-is-done perspective. Lightly stroke their ego, tell them it’ll give them a good grade, and…
“Okay, I guess,” Gracie said, half-smiling.
“Great.” I went to tell the teacher to get us prints of the script so we could start going over it.
Looking at the script, it was exactly what I needed. I handed over one of the copies.
“It’s just over a page and a half, only one or two big lines, setting is minimal, blocking shouldn’t be tough,” I said. “Where do you want to go to practice?”
I winced. This was the one part of my plan that didn’t account for a large margin of error.
“Hmmm… what about backstage? Over there?” she said, pointing at what any true thespian would call “offstage left”. Where she was referring to was probably the couch that the department used for a show that advanced drama was putting on. I nodded and we went back there to find it already occupied.
Perfect.
“Hey, what about the upstairs set dock?” I suggested.
“What?”
I forgot who I was speaking to.
“Upstairs? Have you ever been?”
“What do you mean?” she said, still obviously clueless.
“Here, I’ll show you,” I said, going into the area behind the stage. It was dark, echoing, and strange. But any naive freshman with a sense of adventure couldn’t help but wander near it. When I first took this class, I’d be scolded to no end for going back here. But now I have the Arcanan advantage.
She approached the large room where trucks were loaded and unloaded with some of the larger sets with little caution. Her naivete was immediately apparent. Toward the end, where the stairs started, she hesitated.
“C’mon, it’s cool up there.”
“Uhh… okay.”
Like the spider and the fly, I thought to myself.
We ascended the staircase with little difficulty. Our steps echoed as we reached the top, where a small hallway that led to the various technical rooms of the auditorium was.
“Okay, cold read, starting on your line.”
We slowly advanced to half the page before I coughed. Or, rather, she thought I coughed.
“Oscura.”
Precaution 1: The echoes are certain to be heard if anyone went looking for us. The blanket of protection the Haze word afforded us would be crucial. And it was loud but clear enough that my magical nature could feel the blanket of the spell surround us.
I beat my chest to continue the illusion. “Sorry, a bit drafty up here,” I said, lapsing straight into my line.
Two more lines before I gave up some of the illusion.
“Desdiri,” I uttered, low, fast, and fierce. I curled the energy of the spell like a stress ball into my hand, and softly linked it to her.
“What?” she said, breaking character.
“Nothing. Continue.”
I squeezed down on the spell, channeling energy into it. For some reason, it didn’t deplete me like the haze did.
She stuttered out her line.
I followed with mine.
She halfway finished hers, when…
Squeeze, hard.
She fell to her knees.
“You all right?” I said, helping her up.
“Uhhh… I…” she said.
“Man, I hit her hard,” I thought.
She tried to nod affirmative.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” came my line. I stopped. Tension held thick in the air.
Now we strike.
I stepped forward to kiss her. I only had to bend slightly, and she went up to meet me halfway. The kiss grew passionate and deep as I lifted her up, grabbing her waist tight as her legs curled around my own waist. I broke from it to draw a soft line of kisses up her jawline, up to her ear where I nibbled her earlobe slightly before breathing hotly. A soft moan escaped her lips. I kneeled forward to press her back against the wall, her legs quickly disentangling, leaving her pressed against the wall. I backed off.
Parent Post: Dark Arts – by MrPhantomille
- Dark Arts - Chapter 1B: Words - by MrPhantomille
- Dark Arts - Chapter 2A: Sympathy - by MrPhantomille
- Dark Arts - Chapter 2B: Sympathy - by MrPhantomille
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