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The Tale Of The Wizard And The Ring free porn video
The Tale of the Wizard and the Ring
by dkb
"Wizard!" called out the King. "Come here!"
Cornelius sighed. He liked to think of himself as a scholar, a
researcher, a student of esoteric science, but the King cared nothing for
that. To him Cornelius was a wizard, with magic powers, and that was all
there was to it. As Court Wizard Cornelius' job was to indulge any
random whims of the King that couldn't be satisfied by the Royal Cook,
the King's Brewer, the Master of Ceremonies or, if he overindulged in the
talents of the previous, the Court Physician. Well, from today that was
going to change. Cornelius had the item in his pocket and if all went to
plan he wouldn't have to take any more from the fat-arsed fool.
"Come on!" the King called again. "Get in here! I haven't got all day!"
Neither have I, Cornelius said to himself, but what can I do? The herald
had summoned him at ten o'clock, but he had then had to wait in the
corridor for an hour before being invited in to the audience chamber.
"I am yours to command, Sire," Cornelius called out and walked in to see
His Majesty.
The King's private audience chamber was a narrow room with a door at one
end and, at the other, a raised platform with a low divan, on which
sprawled the King. A stretch of carpet led down the middle and there
were six guards, lined up on either side of the room. King Gunnar IV
was a huge brute of a man, powerfully built, but also tending to fat.
During the reign of his father, Gunnar III, he had been a warrior, famous
for the power of his arms. It was said that he had once totally smashed
the heads of three enemy knights with a single blow of his axe. But in
the current time of peace he seemed quite happy to spend his time
drinking, gambling and fornicating. Gunnar III had been a noble warrior
as a youth and a wise statesman in old age. He it was who had first
hired Cornelius, to investigate methods of improving crop yields. But
the current king was a fool and a sot, with more muscle than brains and
more lard than either.
"Ah, there you are now!" said the King. "I want to talk to you about my
party."
"Your party, Majesty?"
"Yes, my party. To celebrate my third year on the throne. Now,
obviously the Master of Ceremonies is arranging most of it, but I need
you to help him spice it up with that magic pizzazz or shazzam or
whatever it is. And it's got to be better than last year. Do you
remember? When I appeared out of nowhere, at the end, people thought it
was a trapdoor or mirrors! What's the point of magic if it doesn't look
magical? It's got to be more impressive."
"But Sire, the whole point of an invisibility spell is that nobody is
supposed to notice it happening. Invisibility is not supposed to be
impressive."
"I know that. I'm not stupid. But when I stop being invisible I want
people to think I have manifested myself out of the ether, like a living
god. I don't want them to go 'Oh, he must have been there all the time,
but I never noticed.' I think there should be an explosion."
"Explosion, Sire?"
"Yes. To get people's attention. A big bang and a flash of smoke, and
then I'll appear, in full regalia. And I want to hover. You can do
that, can't you? And can I glow?"
"Glow, Sire?"
"Yes, glow. I want to look like the fire of God is coming out of me, or
something. And if you can make me shoot out a couple of thunderbolts
that would be good. You should be able to do that, no problem. You've
got a month to work it all out. You're not doing anything else at the
moment, are you?"
"Well, there is the harvest, Sire."
"The harvest? You're not a farmer, are you?"
"No, Sire, but I have been working on weather spells, as your late father
asked me to. I can hold off the rain during the harvest season, to
prevent the crops being spoiled. Unfortunately the effect is only local,
so I've been travelling around the kingdom to repeat the rite in each
province. It is a little time-consuming."
"Hang on. No rain?"
"Not during this crucial period, Sire. I performed the rain spells in
the spring."
"Is that why it's been so hot, recently?"
"Um, yes Sire."
"I don't like it. I've been sweating like a pig. It's ghastly."
"But it's going to be a bumper harvest, Sire. And the people will love
you for it."
"Hmm. I suppose that's a good thing, in its way. What else do you get
up to, when you're not making me look like a god?"
"Well, there are the bridges, Sire."
"Bridges?"
"Yes, Sire. I've been developing new alloys and these, in conjunction
with new designs that I've heard about from other researchers, should
help strengthen our bridges and make them less liable to fall down.
There are a lot of rivers in the kingdom, Sire, and our bridges are very
important, particularly for trade."
"Excuse me for saying this, wizard, but that doesn't sound very magical
to me."
"It's not really magic, Your Majesty, it's science."
"But you're my wizard! I don't want you wasting your time on agriculture
and engineering when I've got other people for that. It's your job to
make me look like a god. Got that?"
"Yes, Sire."
"And there's one more thing." The King lowered his voice,
conspiratorially. "Come up here, would you. I've got a matter of state
to ask you about, confidential."
Protocol demanded that no-one should stand higher than the King. So,
since Gunnar was sprawled almost horizontal on his couch, Cornelius had
to bow down almost to the floor as he walked up the steps to the platform
where the King was seated. Then he sat at His Majesty's feet.
Gunnar put his mouth to Cornelius' ear, to make sure the guards couldn't
hear.
"That potion you gave me last week: terrific stuff, quite incredible,
well done. But unfortunately, it's not quite strong enough. To be
honest, I couldn't keep it up after the fourth time last night. Inga was
most disappointed. As I'm sure you understand, I have a reputation with
the ladies that I have to keep up. So I need you to notch that stuff up
a bit, OK?"
Cornelius whispered back, "Sire, as I said before, I can't make it any
stronger without risking serious side effects. As your physician will
confirm, Your Majesty's heart..."
"Oh, the physician is an old dodderer who'd bust a blood vessel if he so
much as glimpsed some girl's ankle. Ignore him. Make it stronger.
That's an order."
"Yes, Sire."
Cornelius felt despondent. This was not going well. The King did not
seem in the right mood to receive a gift. But any future audience wasn't
likely to be any better, so Cornelius thought that now was as good a time
as any.
"Sire, if I may say something?"
"What's that?"
Cornelius felt into his pocket and took out a heavy, engraved gold ring
from it.
"I have a present for you, Sire."
"A present?" Gunnar frowned. "What would I want a present from you for?
If I want something from you I'll give you an order. What is it anyway?"
He squinted at the ring in Cornelius' hand. "Hmm, jewellery. Where did
you get that?"
This was really not going well. The King was famously avaricious and
Cornelius had assumed he would just take anything offered to him without
questioning it.
"Er, I found it," Cornelius improvised, "during the course of some of my
researches, amongst a horde buried by a great wizard in the old days."
"You mean it's magic?" said the King, suddenly interested.
Cornelius felt a cold sweat run down his back. He knew he was digging
himself into a hole, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't back out now.
"Er, yes. It is magic."
"Yes," said the King, "I can see the occult symbols carved on it. What
does it do?"
"It, um..." Think! Think! Cornelius told himself. "It's, er, a ring of
health. If you wear it night and day it will ward off sickness and keep
your energy levels topped up to the maximum."
"I see. That sounds very good. But, as you know, I am as strong as an
ox, so I'm not sure it will be much use to me."
"But Sire, this will make you even stronger. You'll last longer in
battle, and, er, other things."
"Will it help with hangovers?"
"Yes, Sire. It will definitely cure any hangover."
"Oh! I suppose that might be quite useful. Jolly nice. Thank you very
much. Now, off you go and work on my party. Make me look like a god and
I'll give you a present, twice your weight in gold, as much pussy as you
can eat in a week, something like that."
Cornelius prostrated himself before the King.
"Thank you, Sire."
Making sure he stayed bowed low, Cornelius crept backwards down the
steps, along the carpet and out the door of the audience chamber.
Back in his own chamber Cornelius planned his next move. The only thing
that could go wrong now would be if anyone noticed something while the
spell was working, so he decided he had to carry it out when the king was
alone. His Majesty would spend another hour or so meeting his nobles and
shouting at the Chamberlain or the Chancellor. Then he'd have a long
lunch and by three he would be in his private rooms, maybe sleeping it
off. The ring would, unfortunately, glow slightly while it was working,
so it would be best if the king was asleep, or else too drunk to notice
anything. All in all three o'clock in the afternoon was the very best
time to proceed.
Needless to say, the ring was not, in fact, a ring of health. In fact it
was one half of the material matrix for a spell of exchange. Cornelius
had discovered the spell some months ago in a book he had found in the
back of the library that had looked like it hadn't been touched in at
least a hundred years. It was clearly the most complicated, difficult
and time consuming spell he had ever contemplated, but Cornelius had
immediately seen the opportunity it could give him. If he could only
swap his soul into the body of the king then all his schemes for
improving agriculture, architecture and the infrastructure of the kingdom
could be put into practice. And he wouldn't have to waste time on the
trivial conjuring tricks the king was obsessed with. With absolute power
Cornelius knew he could run the country in a sensible, rational way, to
the benefit of everyone.
It had taken Cornelius two months in his laboratory just to get the right
mixture of gold, platinum and iridium from which to make two rings. And
the rings had to be as near as possible to identical in size and shape.
Then he had had to inscribe the appropriate runic cipher on each ring,
making sure every letter was perfectly formed. Finally, everything was
prepared. Everything he had worked towards was coming to fruition on
this day. When the spell was cast the souls of Cornelius and Gunnar
would swap places. The power of the spell would burn out after one use,
so there was no going back. Obviously Gunnar could make some trouble, so
Cornelius had written a letter pretending a plot to poison the king and
had left it in a not very secret drawer in his room. His first act as
King would be to send some guards round to search the wizard's quarters,
so they could find the letter and then arrest the wizard for treason.
With any luck Gunnar, suddenly finding himself in a different body, would
rant and rave like a mad man, making it all the easier to have him locked
up. It was possible, obviously, that Gunnar was not wearing the ring, in
which case the spell would simply not work and Cornelius could try again
later. The story about it being a ring of health had been a good one,
because it meant Cornelius could try and nag Gunnar into wearing it on
the pretext that he was only concerned with the King's well-being.
There would be downsides to being king, obviously. He'd have to deal
with all the ignorant old fogies that called themselves lords, for one.
But he planned to promote lots of able, scholarly men to the aristocracy
to help him with his schemes. Some exercise and a sensible diet would
give him back the fine physique Gunnar used to have. He'd be married to
the Queen, of course. But fortunately that dreadful old harridan,
embarrassed by her husband's shenanigans, had long ago retreated to a
remote part of the castle and now had as little as possible to do with
the rest of the court.
On the other hand, there was Inga. Inga was supposed to be a lady's maid
to the Queen, but it was well known that she spent a lot less time
dressing the Queen than she did undressing for the King. Gunnar had many
semi-official mistresses, but the maid Inga was said to be his favourite.
And this was no wonder, since Inga was without doubt the sweetest,
juiciest, ripest, shapeliest girl at court. Cornelius thought it likely
he wouldn't bother with any of the titled young ladies that currently
danced attendance on the King. If he could only get his hands on Inga he
would be a happy man.
It was with these thoughts passing through his mind that Cornelius
finally sat down to put the last step of his plan into action. He opened
his desk, took out the other ring, twin to the one he had given Gunnar,
and placed it on his finger. Then he mentally calmed his mind as well as
he was able and quietly recited the incantation required to complete the
spell.
The moment he had finished a dizzying, whirling sensation swept through
him and then there was blackness. He was expecting some disorientation,
but this didn't seem quite right. He couldn't see a thing and he felt
like he was being crushed by some terrible weight. He felt the physical
symptoms of extreme panic. His heart was racing, he was gasping for
breath and there was a pounding in his head, so he couldn't think
straight. And still he was completely blind. Suddenly he realised he
was in fact lying face down on a carpet, or a rug. Or a mattress. That
must be it. And there was something monstrously heavy lying on top of
him, pressing him down. And he still couldn't work out what the hell had
gone wrong. With every fibre of his being Cornelius stretched his neck
to pull his head up from the mattress. The room was dimly lit and his
vision was blurred, but he could just make out, in front of him, a
smooth, plump, female arm, on one finger of which was a heavy, inscribed,
gold ring, still faintly glowing. Gunnar had given the ring to some
girl!
"Oh, no, no, no!" Cornelius squealed in Inga's high voice.
"YES, YES, YES!" roared the king as he continued fucking the maid.
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