“Mx. Rhyce? Is everything alright?”

Rhyce’s body turned against their volition, their gleeful grin fading a little. “I-I’m OK, thank you!” their new ‘guest’ called out, in their best imitation of Rhyce’s usual tone and cadence.

“Are you sure?” came the muffled response from Cornelias the barmaid. “I heard a crash...”

“Oh, I - I tripped and fell, but I’m fine, I assure you.”

There was a pause, and then the sound of two footsteps, one noticeably heavier and clunkier than the other, walking away. The possessed sorcerer faced the mirror again, studying their reflected appearance in minute detail.

Just because Rhyce knew what had happened, that didn’t mean there was a damn thing they could do about it. With Sinda’s spirit in full control of their body, they couldn’t so much as blink under their own power. The strangest part was that they still felt everything just as vividly, as connected to every body part as they ever had been. They could feel their heart pounding, their mouth manically beaming, the slight ache in their back from hitting the floor. They felt the flesh beneath their fingertips as Sinda ran their hands over their own face, experimentally stroking and squeezing parts of it. They could even feel the warmth in their cheeks from the slight blush they always got when Cornelias - one of the few people they’d ever met who’d bothered to learn, and retain, their pronouns - called them by their preferred honorific.

But they couldn’t control any of it. All they could do was watch helplessly, trapped behind their own eyes, as Sinda examined her host form. “Yeah, could be worse,” she muttered, turning to the side to view their figure. “Skinnier than I used to be. Breasts aren’t as big, and I’ve got practically no ass... Paler skin, too. On balance I’d prefer my old body - but after all that time in a fucking poppet, this is more than acceptable!” She smirked, wiping the mustard seed off the back of their leg. “Thanks, Rhyce. Couldn’t be more grateful.”

She addressed that last comment over their shoulder, to the wooden figurine lying abandoned on the floor. It struck Rhyce that Sinda didn’t know they were still within their body - she must have assumed they’d switched places. She didn’t seem in a hurry to go and talk to them. After all the effort they’d gone to to help her, to save her, someone they didn’t even know... she clearly couldn’t care less about what had happened to them, whatever gratitude they claimed to profess.

Hey! they thought, as loudly as they could. I’m still in here, asshole! This is MY body, not yours. No vacancies!

Sinda didn’t seem to hear them. Her gaze had left the mirror and was now wandering over the magical ephemera scattered around the room, as she chewed her borrowed lip thoughtfully. “In fact, this is probably better than my own body... They’ve got power, they’ve got supplies, they’ve got a spellbook - I could use all this to save Zallia! Gotta learn how first, which could take a while... and I need to find out where she even is. I know Lord Codpiece married her off, but I dunno who to...”

You are NOT staying in here. You are NOT using my body to wage some kind of crusade against the local Lord! HEY!!

“Figure it out,” Sinda murmured, pivoting back to the mirror once more, a distant, thoughtful look in her (or rather, Rhyce’s) eyes. “I’ll figure it out, I have to. Won’t leave you there, Zal.” She inhaled deeply, shivering a little and smiling at her reflection. “First though, let’s get a little more familiar with the new me.”

To Rhyce’s horror, she began to undress, pulling their shirt off over their head. Licking their lips, she gave their small tits a squeeze. “Better than I expected,” she mused, rolling their nipples between finger and thumb. “Outfit didn’t do you any favours, hun...”

Get off! Stop that...

Sinda’s hands strayed away, but only to pull down Rhyce’s pants and underwear, baring their crotch. She wrinkled their nose in distaste at the sight of their thick, untidy pubic hair. “Thought I felt some fuzz down there. That’ll have to go if I gotta stay in here for any length of time.”

Perching on the edge of the bed, she began to massage their chest with one hand, and reached between their legs with the other, threading their fingers through their tangled thatch and beginning to delicately caress their labia. “Ohh, Gods,” she gasped, shuddering and smiling raptly, “it’s been so long... I’d almost forgotten... Did this ever feel so good?”

No, stop... This, this isn’t right, you can’t just - ohhh...

Every stroke was as sensational as if Rhyce were doing it themself. It was their hand, their fingers, playing with their pussy. But at the same time, it wasn’t - Sinda touched them in a different way from them, different directions and rhythms and speed... The familiarity combined with the foreign was so strange, so uncanny, that it somehow brought them close to the edge all the quicker. They tried to keep the pleasure at bay, mustering all the admirable willpower they’d used throughout literal years of chastity, but it was hopeless - they had as little control over their mounting arousal as they did over the rest of their body.

Oh, fuck...

“G-Gods, yes,” Sinda sighed, falling back onto the mattress as she rubbed their slit faster. “R-Rhyce, your cunt is so wet... You got so turned on so fast... poor thing m-must not have gotten off in a while...”

Shut up, Rhyce fumed impotently. After a lifetime of trying to be unobtrusive, to hide themself and not draw attention, it was mortifying for someone to have such intimate insight - to have such unprecedented access to their body that they could sense how pent up they were. To be so known, so exposed, unable to conceal their feelings from someone because that person was sharing their body...

Why is that so hot?!

It wasn’t, they told themself insistently - it was just the massive arousal they already felt confusing them. Out of practice though Sinda may be, she was finding her way around the unfamiliar vagina with ease, quickly figuring out what touches, what pressure, would produce the most pleasure. Much as Rhyce loathed to admit it, it was getting to the point where they were no longer sure they would’ve resisted this if they could. Their private vow of denial, and all their resolve to keep to it, were forgotten in the heat of the moment. They couldn’t precisely pinpoint the moment when they stopped trying to hold their orgasm at bay and started silently pleading to reach it quicker, but they found they were equally powerless in that respect. They desperately wanted to slip their digits inside and fuck themself into oblivion, but they couldn’t. Sinda was in control, and Sinda seemed to want to draw this out - unsurprisingly, given that she hadn’t had the ability to masturbate for quite some time.

Rhyce could do nothing of their own accord. They couldn’t even exclaim their own ecstasy, let out whimpers and soft cries as Sinda was doing. They were imprisoned in their own body, defenceless against its new occupant’s caresses, powerless to bring them both to the release they craved.

They couldn’t remember ever being so turned on.

And when they finally came, their fingers belatedly sliding into their wet, welcoming snatch and thrusting zealously back and forth, the climax was as intense as an earthquake, sending both the novice Mage and the horny spirit possessing them tumbling into deep, warm darkness.

***

Thezon was up and out of bed before dawn broke, after one of the most restless nights he could remember. Sodomising his slave girl hadn’t alleviated his anxiety as much as he’d hoped, and he’d forgone his usual evening trip to the tavern to drink alone in his study, brooding over the problem at hand, after first moving his remaining trophy - the wax doll encapsulating the essence of his friend Fennrak’s bratty stepdaughter, whose name he couldn’t remember - from the shelf in the store to his personal desk.

The presence of another Magus - or someone with the potential of a Magus, at least - in his town was both concerning and infuriating. This was his territory. His friend Fennrak was the Lord of this domain, but he was the one with the real power. The power to reshape the mind, to alter the body, to pluck out the soul... If there was another warlock in the area, they may seek to contest his position - to depose him, or even destroy him, and become the new Magus. He could not allow that.

His girl had described the mysterious customer as a somewhat scrawny young woman with raven-black hair, but there was no guarantee that was the sorcerer’s true form - it could well have been a glamour, conjured to make them look unassuming. Thezon had debated whether to try and track the threat using his powers, but had decided against it. If they were powerful enough to penetrate the perception spells he had placed around his trophy display, they could sense a magical probe and would know he was onto them. No, he couldn’t afford to reveal his hand too early. He would have to be stealthy. And for that, he needed to act through a proxy.

Mind-broken playthings like his servant girl were ultimately too dim for the task. And while he had other pawns in strategic places, none of them had the magical talents required to hunt down his hidden adversary. (Well, some of them did, but they didn’t know it - and it was altogether safer, for now, to hold them in reserve. His Guardians were a last resort, only to be utilised if he truly had to.) That left him with limited options.

Finally, he hit upon the right man for the job - Cardhus, a mercenary magician of his acquaintance who specialised in divination. A solitary young man, Cardhus had cut himself off from civilised society some years ago, but would accept jobs for the right payment - and he owed Thezon a debt for saving his life during a previous misadventure. That was one major advantage of using his services. Another was that diviners like Cardhus didn’t perform tracking spells from a distance like usual warlocks - they simply felt their way to their targets, allowing the magic rooted within the earth itself to guide them. It often took longer, but his accuracy was unerring. And best of all, even the most powerful warlock couldn’t sense a diviner’s approach until it was too late.

Cardhus had been a useful tool in the past, and would be again this time. He wasn’t on Thezon’s power level, but he had enough tricks up his sleeve, and was naturally stealthy enough, that the Magus was confident he could take down this rival sorcerer in an ambush. And if he failed - well, there would likely be enough of a commotion that the magician’s identity would become publicly known regardless. Besides, Thezon never particularly liked Cardhus anyway. If the misanthropic maverick got himself vaporised, it was no great loss. The only major problem was that he wouldn’t be able to approach the diviner himself - he had to leave not long after first light and travel to his new client, in the opposite direction from the mountain pass Cardhus called home. He’d have to send an emissary, and there was only one real choice.

Rising from his fitful sleep, the weary wizard stepped outside his bedchamber and awoke his slave - who habitually slept curled up on a rug on the landing with a blanket over her - by kicking her in the back, hard enough to rouse her but not enough to cause injury. Springing upright, she quickly scrambled to give him his good morning kiss on the cock, and then scurried downstairs to cook him a quick breakfast, while he performed his ablutions and packed for his trip.

Some minutes later, as he ate the simple but well-prepared bacon and eggs, he told the girl what he needed her to do. “I’ll give you a map with his last known location marked,” he told her, “as well as a letter explaining what I need from him, and some coinage.” He didn’t need to pay Cardhus, given that the mercenary was indebted to him, but he thought a gesture of goodwill might be appreciated, and besides it was a drop in the proverbial ocean for him.

The slave bowed her head. “I won’t let you down, Master.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Thezon placed a small velvet pouch on the kitchen table, undoing the string tie and fishing out a small silver thimble. “You must also make sure to give him this,” he commanded. “The letter will explain why. This must remain in its pouch for as long as you have it with you - you must not touch it with your bare hands. Treat it as you would treat my trophies, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.” He gazed at her for a long moment, willing to concede that he was quite relieved she hadn’t been taken from him. He had placed magical barriers around her mind when he’d cleared it out so long ago, so that the removed part couldn’t be restored at a distance - any attempt to do so would have sent the excised fragment of consciousness ricocheting around the surrounding space until it found a new host to latch onto, be it a person or an artefact. But had the thief tried to reunite her fractured mind when in the same room as her...

Well, there was no danger of that for the time being. She would be leaving mere minutes after him, on her own important trip. And when she returned, she’d have Cardhus for company, so she was unlikely to be at any risk. (Not from the unknown enemy, at least - Cardhus himself was another matter. But however he chose to make use of her, he could at least be relied upon to leave her more or less intact.)

A little while later, Thezon strode out into the main area of his store, a bag in one hand and another hanging over the opposite shoulder. He paused, crossing back to the now-empty trophy shelf, and replaced the wax figurine there. His slave was waiting by the door to see him off, her hands clasped behind her back, her head bowed deferentially to him, even as she looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. “Have a safe journey, Master,” she said reverentially.

Thezon lingered for a moment, staring thoughtfully at her.

“Piss, girl,” he commanded simply.

“Yes, Master.” His girl’s demure smile changed for a moment to an expression of concentration. Then she let out a sigh, and beamed proudly up at her owner as a dark wet patch spread across the front of her trousers.

Smirking, he patted her on the head and departed without further preamble, feeling a little lighter of spirit. He had still been agitated, and hadn’t been enjoying the feeling. He rarely had to contend with potential challenges to his power base, and the anonymity of his nemesis had been weighing on him. When things felt out of control, exercising his power helped to calm his malevolent mind. Even a display of dominance over one whose will he had already quashed, rather than use of his actual power, was enough to settle his nerves.

Whatever threats presented themselves, he shouldn’t be too concerned. After all, he was a knowledgeable, skilful and influential Magus. The Master of all he surveyed. Only an exceptionally powerful, remarkably talented sorcerer could stand against him.

And those didn’t come along very often.

***

Pale sunlight fell upon Rhyce’s face through the narrow window of their rented room. Groaning, they instinctively reached up to rub their fluttering eyelids with the back of their hand.

The next second they were fully awake, their eyes wide with astonishment. “I can move,” they blurted - and then gasped. “I can speak! Oh, thank Gods...”

They quickly tested to make sure they had regained full control of their body, flexing their fingers, stretching their arms, and rolling their head around on their shoulders. Everything worked as it should. Had their possession by the spirit of Sinda only been temporary? Had she lost her hold on her host body after they passed out? Was she now back in the wooden doll, or in another object in the room - or was she floating around in the air, an angry insubstantial cloud of essence?

Whatever. At least the ungrateful bitch wasn’t inhabiting their body any more.

But Rhyce’s relief was short-lived, as no sooner had they thought those famous last words did they hear a faint, alarmed voice in the back of their mind, exclaiming, What the fuck?

They inhaled sharply. “Sinda?”

Rhyce? What’s happening?!

The self-taught sorcerer groaned, slapping a palm against their forehead. “Oh, come on! You’re still in here?!”

You’re back? You’re back in your body?

“I never left!” they snapped, heaving themself upright, their palms planted in the thin mattress either side of them. “I was here the whole fucking time, while you made me jill off, you pervert!”

You were?! I had no idea... Why did THAT happen?

“I don’t know! But I was trapped inside my own body. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything - I just had to sit through you doing whatever you felt like...”

How come we’ve switched around now? Why am I the helpless one now...?

“I don’t know,” they said again. “Maybe you came so hard you flipped us around.”

They’d meant it as another jibe over Sinda using their body for her own self-gratification, but as they spoke it struck them that they might be thinking along the right lines. Sexual acts, like magical acts, expended energy - both physical and mental. They may both have felt the orgasm, but it was Sinda who made it happen - she’d put her own mental energy into it, while Rhyce just had to experience it. That could have cost her control of their shared body. In the same way, Rhyce’s botched spell, which put them in this predicament in the first place, depleted their own reserves enough that when they recovered, they couldn’t resist Sinda.

If the intruding consciousness had been weakened by the act of climax, it likely wouldn’t remain so for long. Rhyce had to seize their chance.

They scrambled off the bed, heedless of their nudity, and sat back down in the middle of the arc of supplies they’d used for the ritual. Some of the herbs had been scattered by the magical shockwave, and the totems had been knocked over.

Wait wait wait, what are you doing?

Ignoring the perturbed voice in their mind, Rhyce hastily began tidying up the displaced items, resetting the semi-circle back to how it had been arranged the previous night.

No, no, hold on - you’re not - you can’t put me back! Please -

“I’m sorry, I have to,” they murmured, wincing as they did so. They hadn’t intended to apologise. They’d done nothing wrong, after all. They’d only tried to help the girl, and she’d taken advantage of her altruism.

Please, no, you can’t, you CAN’T!

“It’s just until I figure out what to do next,” they insisted.

Sinda fell silent, and they assumed she’d begrudgingly accepted the situation. They finished preparing the spell ingredients again, the wooden doll positioned before them. Raising their arms to begin the ritualistic gestures, they opened their mouth to start chanting the incantation...

And their voice failed them, the words sticking in their throat. Their arms locked in place, refusing to move in the way they wanted them to. “What?” they muttered, lowering their arms.

They tried to start the ritual again, but once more their voice and limbs wouldn’t co-operate. They could still speak and move in any other way, but they couldn’t manage to get the incantation out, or to gesticulate in the required manner.

“Sinda, for the Gods’ sake...”

No. I am not going back.

“Well, you can’t stay in here!”

Why not?

“Why not?” Rhyce mimicked, outraged. “Do I need to remind you of what you just did?”

You mean, give you a fucking great orgasm? Your first in quite a while, or at least that’s how it felt? You’re welcome.

They blushed, as infuriated by Sinda’s apparent lack of remorse as they were humiliated by her accurate assessment. “You used me. You took control away from me -”

OK, OK, I’m sorry. There was a pause, as if the formless mind was drawing breath. I really am, they continued. I’ve been stuck in a lump of wood for so long, and suddenly I was in a human body again, and - well, I guess I got carried away. No excuse, I know. But please, I’ll be so well-behaved. And I need to save Zallia - I can’t do that from in there, but maybe I can from in here. Please, Rhyce - I know I haven’t earned your trust, or your goodwill... but will you help me? Please?

Rhyce gritted their teeth. Sinda sounded genuinely apologetic, but that could just be a ploy to get her way. Not only that, but the idea of continuing to share a body with her, with only her word that she wouldn’t try to take full control again, made them uneasy. But... they couldn’t put her back in the doll. They couldn’t look themself in the mirror if they did. And they couldn’t stand idly by in the knowledge that there was another young woman trapped in a similar state - and probably many more besides - while they had the power to do something about it.

Plus - and they were willing to concede this to themself, but not Sinda, at least not yet... it really had been a fucking great orgasm.

“I just know I’m going to regret this,” Rhyce murmured, getting up from the hard wooden floor and rubbing their bare buttocks.

Oh, thank you thank you thank you!! Rhyce, you’re amazing...

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a saint.”

So, what’s our next move? their new internal voice asked as they began to dress themself.

They took a deep breath as they considered. “I suppose we’d better try to retrieve the vessel containing your dear Zallia’s mind... You said it was a wax doll?”

Yes, but - the Magus put a hex on it, so if you try to steal it you get paralysed. That’s how he got me. Same thing would’ve happened if you tried to steal my doll. You only got away with it by buying it, even if you had to do a little mental trickery on Slave Me in the process.

“Damn.” Rhyce chewed their lip. “I can undo a protective hex, but a spell like that needs a few supplies I don’t have.” They gestured to the items around the room. “I’d need to get more - but I can’t risk buying from his store again. If your counterpart points me out to the Magus, this is all over.”

There’s an apothecary a few streets away. They might have what you need there.

They grimaced. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

And then we find Zallia’s body, put her back together, then get MY body and put ME back together -

“Well, that presents a ton of challenges,” the would-be warlock noted. “You said Zallia was married off to some wealthy friend of her stepfather’s, but we don’t know who that is...”

Should be easy enough to find out, if we ask around the town.

“Right, but then we’ve got to get past him to get to her. And you’re currently working for the Magus himself, so to reach your body -”

We’ll have to kill him.

Rhyce swallowed hard. “Well... maybe.”

Maybe? DEFINITELY. We won’t defeat him WITHOUT killing him. And besides, he NEEDS to be killed. For everything he did to me, to Zallia, to who knows how many other women - and he won’t stop. Not unless someone stops him.

“I don’t disagree. But I don’t know if I can even fight a Magus, let alone kill one...”

Then I guess you’d better get studying, huh? Sinda said wryly. Learn everything you need to, so you can take that prick down. And then you can take his title, and his resources, for yourself - be the new Magus, and make life better for everyone round here.

Rhyce considered for a long moment. It was a daunting prospect, pitting themself against a friend of the local Lord, possibly the Lord himself, and a formidable and utterly amoral magician. Three very intimidating opponents, each with an assortment of allies, pawns and personnel they could utilise. Save for the new longterm guest in their brain, Rhyce was alone, in an unfamiliar land, going to war with its pillars of power for the sake of two women they didn’t know, one of whom had already betrayed their trust. It was madness.

And yet... it was a thrilling notion. Overthrowing nefarious nobles, defeating an evil wizard, saving multiple damsels in distress, bringing down a corrupt institution - and becoming a fully-fledged Magus...

“Alright. Let’s do it,” Rhyce declared, not giving themself a chance to second-guess their choice.

Yesss!!

Their eyes narrowed. “But remember - I’m in charge.”

Of course, of course. Yep. Absolutely. Totally agreed. I was about to say that, actually.

The novice warlock grinned. Infuriating though she may be, they couldn’t help liking Sinda. She had a certain impudent charm that appealed to them.

Exiting their room, they made their way downstairs. Predictably for such an early hour, the main tavern area of the Barnwell Inn was empty, apart from Cornelias, who was sweeping the floor. Her prosthetic left leg clunked loudly with every step, the heavy wooden sound startlingly incongruous when taken along with her otherwise slight frame and delicate features. She glanced up at Rhyce’s approach and beamed warmly at them, and they tentatively returned the smile, blushing. “Good morning, Mx,” the barmaid called out.

“Morning,” they mumbled.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“N-no, thank you. I’m just on my way out.”

“Oh, OK. Well, do come back for lunch. I worry you might not be eating enough!” she chided kindly.

They smiled weakly. “Yeah, I’ll - I’ll do that.”

Wow, you’ve got a BEAST of a crush on this girl, haven’t you? Can’t blame you, she’s very cute. You should make a move.

Their eyes widening and their cheeks burning, Rhyce turned on their heel and practically ran out of the inn, Cornelias shouting a farewell after them. “Shut up,” they said under their breath as they emerged onto the muddy streets. “I’m not going to make a move.”

Why not? Might help you loosen up. And she seems to like you, too.

They suppressed a squeak of surprise at Sinda’s comment. Did she really -? They shut that line of thought down before it could progress any further. They were celibate for a reason. They couldn’t get involved with Cornelias. They wouldn’t.

“We have other priorities,” was all the explanation they would give their mental stowaway, staring across the street at the Magus’ store.

True enough, the core part of Sinda’s consciousness conceded.

“Alright. Lead me to this apothecary, then.”

They turned and began to walk down the street, following Sinda’s directions, but cast one last baleful glance over their shoulder at the magic shop. Somewhere inside that building, Rhyce reflected, the Magus was plotting another malicious magical act to inflict upon an unsuspecting woman, while the docile Slave Sinda dutifully served his every whim. (They had no way of knowing that neither Thezon nor Sinda were currently there, both having departed before Rhyce had woken that morning.)

The quest they had accepted felt insurmountable, but they were determined to go through with it. Thezon had to be stopped. Killed, if necessary. And Rhyce was the only one powerful enough to potentially do it - and the only one brave enough to try.

Or the only one stupid enough, said a cynical mental voice that was, for once, entirely their own.