In A Flash: How to Make Love Like a Warlock

Although many exhaustive and learned volumes have been published on the subject of amorous instruction, I feel much remains to be said on the matter, especially as it pertains to the copulatory habits of warlocks and other masters of dark magic. As one well-practiced in both infernal arts, I feel well suited to speak on the matter with the clarity required, lest another poor apprentice or sorcerer be led astray into more dismal and dreary acts, for lack of knowledge on how to properly engage with an enchantress, siren or familiar.

Firstly, one must attach the suitable appendage. On acquiring the requisite appendage, I will say little now, though it perhaps warrants its own appendix, for it is a matter worthy of careful consideration. Many is the dark master who endeavors to perform the salacious act, only to find his chosen member shriveled and smelling of putrescence. No amount of ointment or potion will see you to satisfying either party in that situation.

The subject puts me in mind of a story, which if the reader will allow me the indulgence of a small digression, I will detail here. I was in a cemetery practicing a poor bit of necromancy—never one of my finer talents, I am sorry to admit—when I came across a sorcerer collecting mandrake root. I was cold and damp from my evening’s toil, and glad for the company, so I shared some of my tobacco and we each drew on our pipes.

After explaining that I had been engaged to summon the recalcitrant spirit of a distant father by a spurned son, cast out of inheritance, I inquired as to what had brought him to this place. “I am collecting the female of the mandrake root,” he said, with a gesture to his satchel.

“To what end?” I said, for I was curious as to what spell he was conducting. As anyone familiar with the arts will be aware, there are many uses for the mandrake root, both male and female.

“I am effecting a spell of transformation,” the sorcerer said, somewhat guardedly.

“I am quite familiar with the endeavor,” I told him enthusiastically. “Who is undergoing the transformation?”

“That would be me,” the sorcerer said, after a moment in which he looked away longingly into the darkness.

Seeing an opportunity, I offered to assist the young man in his deed. He could utilize my experience and skill in effecting a successful transformation, and in return I would receive what was sloughed off in the process for my own personal use. The lesson, as always, help those who trod this dark path with you and you will be repaid with bounties unimaginable.

To return to my purpose though: while the proper appendage is, of course, essential, it by no means assures success in the act, despite what many will boastfully claim. From the crypt to the necropolis to the haunted forest, and along every nefarious byway that our feet shall trod upon, one must always bring all one’s skills to bear upon the situation. Perhaps this is an ancient spell or curse, a potion or concoction made of bitterroot and poison, an ensorcelled mirror or blade, or an enslaved imp or demon. All of these will add pleasure to the task at hand. Use them judiciously, though, for there is nothing worse to have your coitus interrupted by an enraged goblin, slipped free of the bonds that held him, taking possession of the dagger you imbued with dark powers. One would be lucky to escape with possession of all ones appendages. As the reader may already have surmised, I speak from sad experience.

In all things, variety is the newt eye of the potion. Perhaps you delight in excoriation of a maiden pure. However, do not limit your acts to only those practices, for soon they will become rituals and these tend toward the hidebound. You will become as rote and dreary as the Church, which condemns us and seeks our destruction. We are governed by no one, except the dark arts we study. Let no one forget!

An example might serve to best explicate my meaning, so I will endeavor to provide one from my own experience, in the hopes that it will provide you with some use in your own practices. I once was familiar with a woman, learned in many dark matters, who took great delight in cuckolding her husband. Her greatest desire, beyond the pleasure of the act and the knowledge that she was thwarting her husband, lay in her husband discovering her just as she reached the climax of her pleasure. I, naturally, wished to see to the dark lady’s notorious desires, but without incurring the wrath of her husband while engaged in the profane act. I had a certain degree of experience in the matter, and I well knew such interruptions were not only inopportune, they often resulted in considerable injury, something I wished to avoid.

A happy compromise presented itself, one that would satisfy both the lady’s considerable desire and my own preference to keep all my appendages safely intact. I bespelled an imp, a terribly vicious creature, who happened also to be an excellent mimic of an individual’s voice and speech. I stuffed him in an empty ale cask which I, in the guise of a mere peasant, delivered to the lady’s home. She delighted in my subterfuge and quickly we fell to our infernal task. As her pleasure reached its natural crescendo, I compelled the imp to speak in her husband’s voice and so led her to a greater satisfaction than she had previously known.

After, when it became evident that her husband was not going to materialize demanding explanations and a pound of my flesh, she demanded one of her own. Though I resisted stridently, she managed to draw the secret from me and I revealed the imp and had him display his remarkable talent. Once it had been demonstrated, the imp became an integral part of our assignations, as I soon came to regret. For there came a point where the lady reached the conclusion that the imp was far more integral than I to the proceedings, and she released me from my duties while claiming him to see the task done.

Such are the vagaries of the amorous life. It is forever instructive, even as it frustrates and leads one to despair. But if my task here is well completed, I will hopefully spare the careful reader some manner of frustration that I have endured and save him or her from misery. But, I must beg the faithful reader’s forgiveness, for I must put pen aside for the moment and retreat from my study. I hear my dark mistress’s terrible call and I must see to the satiation of her infernal desires.

In A Flash: read a new story every Thursday…

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