by John Benson
The ESA office was at a pretty good address, high in the Clinton Towers on the corner of Walmart and Barracuda. Overhead a Zeppelin blocked the sun and Karen resisted the temptation to look up. After all, this was Nuevo Jork. Only the tourists looked up. The natives were all strangely incurious, or pretended to have seen everything before. In the lobby the guards were armed and nervous, but when they saw her appointment pass they pointed to a gravlift without a word. Respect for the Sorcerers, perhaps, or maybe superstitious prejudice against them. It was hard sometimes to tell just which.
The gravlift decanted her all too quickly on the thirty third floor. There was a sign. Ethical Sorcerers' Association, Suite 3310. She spent a queasy moment wondering whether she hoped she was positive or negative. At least the uncertainty would be over, and that was something. She opened the door. The office had a nice view of Prosperity Park, but it wasn't all that large. There was just this guy behind a desk, looking slightly rumpled and very ordinary. They didn't go in for flash. They always seemed less than what they were, while most of society tried always to seem more. He rose as she entered and took her hand. She felt a little shock, almost of recognition.
"Karen Groth? Hi. Welcome. Please have a seat."
She sat, feeling disoriented. No point in trying to read him. He was a trained Sorcerer, after all. The first she'd probably ever seen. "Well," she said, "am I one or not?" The answer mattered. Small talk didn't matter. The answer mattered. She found herself holding her breath.
"Good news and bad news, Miss," he said. "The good news is you're a latent. I'm amazed we missed it in the screening. If we'd found you when you were ten, you'd be a rising star among our number by now. The bad news is we didn't find you when you were ten, and while teaching an adult isn't impossible, it's difficult and dangerous. I doubt you'll find anyone willing to attempt it."
But what about the headaches, the weird dreams. "Independent study?" she asked. "After all, someone must have been first. He wouldn't have had a mentor, so it must be possible."
"Not recommended, Miss Groth. Once you open to the Arcane, you'll be a magnet for the Forces of Darkness, and they'll try to tempt you, and failing that, they'll destroy you."
"And if they succeed in tempting me?" Her voice cracked. She was under more strain than she admitted. Sorcery. She'd dreamed of Sorcery when she was little, but everyone told her not to bother. A one in a million chance. Don't bother.
"We'd have to kill you," the Sorcerer said. He frowned.
She blinked back tears. "Oh," she said. "Are you sure there's no one who would risk it? I have some money. I'd give almost anything."
"Your soul, Miss Groth?"
She recoiled. He seemed so calm. Was this a test? "No. I said almost anything, remember?"
"How about your body?"
She gasped. "What?"
The Sorcerer leaned forward, leaned his forearms on his desk. "I almost hate to mention this, Miss. It isn't quite..."
"Ethical?"
He flashed just the hint of a smile. "You could say that. He isn't an ESA member, and he doesn't always follow the Canons. We leave him be because he always seems to get the big ones right. He's willing to be your teacher, but he wants something in return."
She felt her heart pick up speed. There was a shred of hope. "Yes?"
"He wants a sexual relationship. You would submit to him. He likes to spank."
She felt alarm, excitement, a stirring in her loins. "Been there, done that," she said. "In college, I had a D/s affair. It wasn't good for me. I had to split."
"Then by all means, don't accept, Miss. We could do some things to deaden your response. Make the headaches less intense, the dreams less common."
And give up the chance to be somebody really special. To make a difference. If she dedicated half her life to trading securities and the other half to philanthropy, she'd still never make any real difference. Not like a Sorcerer. "Or maybe you could just give me his number," Karen said. "In case I change my mind."
The Sorcerer handed her a card. He didn't seem surprised.
A two hour maglev ride got her to the town of Seaside, and then a short autocab ride to 2050 West Oprah, and Karen fretted. Fretted at having to be out of the market right now when it might be about to turn. Fretted about giving herself to another dominant after what had happened last time. The ESA man asked her if she were willing to give her body, but she was more afraid it might be her soul.
It was a cheap storefront next door to a pawn shop, and the sign said Brandon Smith, Alternative Methods. Well, that was one way to look at Sorcery, now, wasn't it? No ESA seal of approval, of course. He wasn't a member. A Gray Sorcerer, but that's all she was going to get. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
A young man with light brown hair sprawled behind a desk. He could use a haircut. On the other side a neatly dressed older guy stood. They both drank coffee out of Dermaplast cups. "So I've got this largish payment comin' in 'bout ninety days from now," the guy was saying. "Trouble is, it's in Renminbi. So now what? If I sell it forward and exchange rates go up, I'll feel like a chump, and if I let it slide and rates go down, I'll feel like an idiot."
The younger guy brushed hair away from his eyes. Which one of them was Brandon Smith? "Beats me," he said. "Not my area of expertise."
But it was Karen's. "So buy a put," she said. "In return for your premium you bound the downside and still get part of the gain if there is one."
Both men deigned to notice her. "Yeah?" the one with the foreign exchange problem said. "So who does that action?"
"Any financial server. It's listed under 'options.'"
"Oh, cool. Hey, thanks."
"And you are?" the seated man asked. He unsprawled a bit, but didn't rise. His eyes were light blue. She felt a stirring.
"Karen Groth. I'm here to see Brandon Smith? I zapped a message earlier."
The seated man's smile widened. Karen felt that she was being checked out. He wasn't bothering to be very subtle about it. She felt naked, helpless, unadorned. "Right. Glad you came, Karen. Do you drink coffee?" He was up out of his chair and heading towards a dispenser. The furnishings in this place were so old they may even be pre-war.
"Hey, I'll leave you to your business," the older guy said. "Catch you later." He left and she was alone with a strange Sorcerer who wanted more from her than it was safe to give. He'd found another Duraplast cup.
"Cream and sugar?" he asked.
"Yes, please."
He came over and handed her the cup. She felt the warmth through the cup walls. Her hands must be cold. She felt the intense scrutiny of pale blue eyes. "So," he said.
Karen broke away from eye contact. "Look," she said, "I know what you're asking for, but I think I better tell you that I've done it once before. I gave myself to a dominant when I was in college. It wasn't good for me." She sipped her coffee. She hadn't really wanted it, but now that it was here it tasted good. Her hands weren't very steady. The surface of the liquid betrayed a little tremor.
"You didn't like it?"
She'd imagined this assertive prick, but he looked concerned. Did she want him to be an asshole so she could keep her distance, or would she rather he be nice, so she could fall too hard? "I didn't say that," she said, trying to find words to express what she'd usually left as feelings. "I loved it, but it was bad for me. I felt that I was losing my identity. I didn't sleep. My grades went down. I was drowning in lust and becoming someone I didn't even know. I had to split."
"Sounds like he was a jerk," Brandon said. "Controlling a girl is a privilege, and it must always be done for her benefit. Always. Power begets obligation."
Sounded pretty ethical to Karen. She wondered why he wasn't ESA if that's the way he ran his life. "You make it sound almost attractive," she said, "but I'm still scared. Do we really have to?"
He got two folding chairs and set them up opposite each other and motioned her to sit. He hadn't put the desk between them. Karen sat, feeling conflicted. Her body wanted this. The warmth was already stirring down below the waist.
"Look at it this way," he said. He sat there looking at her from just a couple feet away, calm, attentive. She really wanted this to work. "If you were ten, I could teach you safely because when the time comes that you think you're invulnerable and ready to take stupid risks I could spank your ass and get you to listen to reason. Well, if you're being my submissive, I've got the same option. So you see, it's really for my safety."
She couldn't help but smile. She'd thought of this as pure quid pro quo, but if there was a bit of truth to what he said, that almost made it right. And if not, it was still the cleverest come-on she'd ever heard. "Yeah?" she said.
"And yours. If this goes badly, we probably both go down in flames together."
"Oh," she said. There was risk. And not just the risk of falling for the wrong man too deeply. Botched Sorcery often ended with one or more people dead. "Okay. How do we do this?"
He got up and locked his office door. She felt a sexy chill of fear run up her spine. "I spank you so your body knows you're mine," he said, "and then I teach you. We're going to be pretty much joined at the hip for the next couple of months, you know, until you're over the instability."
Her heart banged. "Oh," she said. "Okay." She stood up unsteadily and unbuckled and unzipped her slacks. Pulled them down and folded them neatly and put them on the chair. She left her panties on and hoped he would too. Wished her butt wasn't such an ample target. The idea of being spanked again brought back old memories. Old lusts, old fears. Brandon sat and patted his thighs. He wanted her OTK. The more intimate way. The more sexy way. Her breath caught, but she moved over to comply.
She was across his lap, long hair brushing the plascrete floor. His office was a little chilly to be comfortable for a girl without her pants on. His thumbs hooked her panties and drew them slowly down, dragging out the feeling of exposure. Why was she secretly glad she was going to get it bare? She heard herself whimper softly, and then Brandon began to spank.
Inexorably, almost mechanically, he spanked, and the feelings built up quickly. He sure knew just how to make a girl feel naughty and helpless and very punished, while at the same time another part of her was being a very adult woman who wanted to get laid. Oh yes. Oh yes! She needed this so much. How come she had run away before? How come she had chickened out and not let herself stay caught?
"You're my girl now, aren't you?"
"Uh huh." Wriggle.
"And you're a naughty girl, aren't you."
"Uh huh." She humped against his leg. He slapped her thighs until they stung, and then reached his finger into her sopping crack. She bucked and writhed and came, and then he soothed her and calmed her down and rubbed her back and stood her up on wobbly legs and hugged her and told her she was his good girl, and she clung to him, so grateful. "Too long," she whispered. "It's been too long."
He kissed her cheek, and it was wet. She hadn't cried while she was being spanked, but now that it was over, her eyes were leaking tears. "And so," he said, still calm, still gentle. "Do you want it the hard way or the easy way?"
"You mean, get laid?"
He chuckled and he squeezed her. "No. The beginnings of Sorcery. There's a hard way and an easy way. Trouble is, sometimes it's difficult to be sure which one's which."
She felt grateful, shy with him, exalted rather than debased. "You choose," she said. "I trust you." And somehow, it was true.
"Let's put it this way," Brandon said. "If you're going into a chilly pool, do you jump right in, or do you walk in slowly, and get wet a little at a time?"
She wrinkled her nose. "That's dying by inches," she said. "I'd rather dive right in and get it over with."
"Yeah," he said. "Me too."
Something exploded softly in her mind, and the world went all white, and then it went away.
Karen woke in a small bed in a small room and she could see strange colors, sense things that weren't quite there, and she remembered portentous dreams. The door opened and in came Brandon. She could see his office beyond the door, and he had brought Chinese take-out. Her stomach growled.
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