Ask Euryale about the wand. She refers you to Hawk who poses an ordeal

Roll +CUNNING(+2) to ENCOUNTER the Wardress of House Minerval.

⚃⚂ + 2 = 9

"I cannot advise it," the Wardress says. Swathed in her veil and hooded robe, her reputedly petrifying gaze is safely covered. "Clearly the wand you discovered in Amethystine's Tower is powerful. Your encounter with Warden Torch in the baths raises the question of whether you are **** to its influence. Your own testimony to me demonstrates that you acted upon an impulse not fully your own, in challenging Warden Torch, nor had you brought the wand with you by deliberate intention."

Your own testimony. You remember nothing about what the Wardress asked you about the duel with Barbara Torch, only a queasy feeling of confused senses and lost time. Maybe Euryale had lifted her hood and veil? You don't quite recall.

Euryale inclines her head and lifts it. "However, my investigation of the wand revealed no clear curse or threat. It is of unusual make and enchantment, but for all purposes I could determine, it functions as a wand. Master Elbegast has also examined it and had no objection to its use."

"Does that mean..." you begin.

The Wardress raises a hand. You zip your lip and nod.

"It means the use of the wand is in the gift of the Tutor," Euryale says. "Housemaster Whiptail referred the question to Mistress Hawk. You may pursue the matter with her if you wish to persist. I offer that seeking the wand is a diversion from your task. I do not forbid it."

"Thank you, Wardress," you say. You feel that Minerval's terrifying gorgon of a Wardress is speaking to you as an equal. "Was there any other reason that Amethystine's tower has stood empty for so long?"

Euryale's veil flutters with a soft snort of laughter. "Yes. It was considered and not judged immediately suitable for any House purpose that would justify the effort to make it ready."

Whiplash. The old Tutor, new Housemaster, was probably jealous of Iris Amethystine.

"Wouldn't it, you know, attract gremlins? Geists?" you say. "Standing empty?"

"What is your judgment of the premises?" the Wardress asks.

"Oh. It was rather heavily warded," you say. "That took a while to unwind. I mean, the more active wards. To clear them up so I could do a full banishing. The stones, you know, the structure is still tightly enchanted. I don't know that I could unpick that by myself. And there's something going on with the foundation that I haven't quite made out. But I was following the formula you gave me."

The Wardress gives you a slow nod.

"Talk with Mistress Hawk," Euryale says.

Fiammetta Hawk, Whiplash's right-hand woman, House Minerval's tutor, holds her lips with a slight curl of amusement. Her coppery eyebrows are set in a slight lift.

"The wand from the former Headmistress' tower, Miss Woodbine?" she says. "Perhaps. Given your account of the embarrassing little scuffle with the Warden of Leontes, I would want some assurances that you would be able to control yourself. If you are **** to subtle influences when provoked, it would not seem suitable."

Provoked. She knows how to get under your skin.

"Tutor, how should I demonstrate that I can exercise control over the wand? Or over myself?" you ask.

Mistress Hawk brushes back a tress of red-gold hair with one hand. "I have an ordeal in mind." she says. Her lips bend into a thin, tight smile. "Do you wish to make a trial of it?"

You take a deep breath. It wouldn't be your first ordeal with Mistress Hawk. Your last time was quite recent. Rebelling against the Tutor's extra lashes, "So you know who's in charge", by inflicting SHAMEGASM upon her, then paying the price by serving as her pleasure **** until the Tutor was satisfied you'd kissed up to her ass with sufficiently earnest diligence. It didn't bother you like the extra lashes had. You don't mind being a toy so much as you hate being toyed with. Fay, well, she hated the whole thing, from the very first lash to the humiliation of it all.

Hawk doesn't seem to be in a cruel mood today, not precisely.

You compose your face and nod. "Yes, Tutor," you say.

"Follow me," she says.

Mistress Hawk takes you to a ritual workroom. More fully furnished than a simple magical practice space, the usual equipment for corporal work is present. There's an upright frame with tie-downs and cross-pieces used most often for invocation of The Sight by ritual flagellation. There's a single-place punishment horse with adjustable footrest and fetters, which you imagine Mistress Hawk has spent much time either as subject or operator of a lusty thrashing. There's a table suitable for use as a ceremonial altar holding magical tools, or as support for a prone, supine, or otherwise-posed subject of whatever operation might be desired by one or more standing celebrants.

"Pull one of your hairs, Morgan, and give it to me," Hawk demands.

Ouch. "Tutor?"

Hawk takes your hair, coils it, and places it in a little basket in the hands of a curious amphibian-featured idol in the corner.

"Come," she says, "Kiss its lips, then spit in its mouth."

You work up a little spit. When your lips touch the cool stone of the idol, you feel the cold melt into a warm, throbbing sensation. When you spit into its mouth, you feel a curious prickling on the back of your tongue.

"Froggy here's going to be watching over me?" you say.

"As you say, Morgan. This operation needs a cool head watching over. That's neither you nor I," Mistress Hawk says.

"What is the operation?" you say.

"I shall lie upon the altar. You shall take up the ebony wand. You shall wring every drop of pleasure from me that you can using the wand as your only instrument," Mistress Hawk says. "Without letting the wand master you."

"How, what..." you start.

"That is your challenge, Miss Woodbine," Mistress Hawk says.

She bends down towards the idol and whispers a word in its ear. Its eyes light up, glowing golden-orange. Your tongue prickles again.

Mistress Hawk removes her slippers and slides her Tutor's robe over her head, leaving her nude from coppery hair past moist lips, stiff pink nipples, shallow navel, and sparse red bush down to her glittering, sharp-pointed, enameled toenails. Claws for the Hawk. Her fingernails are smooth and pink and shaped into short but definite points. A scent of herbs, incense, sweat and cunt rises from her bare flesh. You feel heat radiating from her skin, like Golondrina's glow, but Hawk's internal fires are stoked by swirling magical flows.

"Miss Woodbine?" she says, raising her hands with palms upturned.

You hang your black and white scholar's robe upon a stand in the corner and remove your shoes. It's a little chilly for you. Your skin puckers into gooseflesh down your arms, and your nipples stiffen and stand out.

Mistress Hawk sits upon the table, offering the silver-tipped ebony wand to you upon her open palms. It's warm in your grasp and a little slippery. Coated with oil. Your hand tingles at the touch of the oil, and you feel a rush of warmth up your arm. Your whole body flushes with heat. Your pulse hammers. Your labia swell. Your anus twitches, then tightens uncomfortably. The wand feels light and responsive in your hand, ready to work your will upon the freely flowing currents of magic and libido in the room.

Mistress Hawk shifts slightly, and your eyes lock to hers. She stares at you, and you fall into her gaze. Such hunger in those eyes. Such a fierce stare, and a deep glitter in the depths behind.

Her voice is low and soft. "You may proceed, Morgan," she says. "Show me how you master the instrument. Write your testimony with it upon my body. But let the Art be your own."

Mistress Hawk lies down upon her side.

"You are the artist. I am the canvas. The wand is your brush. Paint your vision of ecstasy upon me."

The wand trembles in your hand, dipping its point toward the Tutor's naked form.

She laughs. "Who is to be the master, Morgan?" she says.

In the corner, the idol's eyes flicker threateningly.

Your arm shakes. Your pulse beats a quick march. The blood sings in your ears. There's a bitter taste on your tongue. You steady your breath and root your body upon your heels resting upon the cold stone floor.

The idol's eyes resume their steady glow.

"Better," Mistress Hawk says.

That look in her eyes, so hungry, staring at you.

Roll +CUNNING(+2) to HAVE SEX with Fiammetta Hawk, Tutor of Minerval, to gain her assent to use the ebony wand. On a 7+, roll +AMBITION(+2) to ASK FOR A FAVOR to use the wand to help prepare Amethystine's Tower as your new home with Fay and Golondrina.

⚂⚃ + 2 = 9.

When you HAVE SEX with Fiammetta Hawk, on a 7-9 you maintain control of the ebony wand. Choose a partial or complicated resolution and apply your House Sex Move, MIND MELD.

The wand is your brush. Paint your vision of ecstasy upon me.

In this moment, Fiammetta Hawk has offered her body to you under her terms. The wand twitches in your hand, wanting to penetrate Mistress Hawk's aura, to set her senses alight. Or was that your own desire? Or was it the oil in your palm, inciting you?

Last year, Fay was sobbing and tense, every muscle in knots after the Housemaster had thrashed her for you-don't-remember-what petty infraction. You had used your wand to conjure ease and rest and warmth into her. With Hawk, you'll do the same, to make her your blank canvas before you paint your vision. Banish, then invoke.

The silver tip of the wand catches the strands of Hawk's aura, combing each line smooth and steady. You feel your own body tingle in the same places you're working Mistress Hawk. Your shoulders soften. Your breaths come slower and deeper. Your anus relaxes from its uncomfortable cramp, softening, tingling, welcoming touch. Not now. Your moisture descends, dampening your inner thighs. Your clit throbs with your pulse, a quiet delight at the arch of your labia. And so with Fiammetta Hawk. She still radiates warmth, but more softly. Her fingers and toes curl gently, then uncurl. Your inner vision flickers and you see a flash of a lioness in her place, claws kneading the strands of her own living aura.

Hawk speaks again, her voice a soft growl. "Clever, clever girl," she says. "First make me a tilled garden, soft and loose and ready for the quickening. What flowers will you grow?"

Circling the table, you're standing behind her buttocks. With her upper leg drawn up, you see her vulva in full bloom, the lips deep pink and swollen between the sparse red hairs on her outer labia. A sheen of moisture glistens between her lips and upon her upper thigh.

With barely a thought, the silver tip of your wand seeks the center of her blossom and strikes home, touching the gate of her inner chamber. Her body convulses and her voice rises in a climactic shriek. A wave of pleasure sweeps up your arm and speeds through your body, sparking a climax that rocks your hips back and forth, grinding out your joy upon the air between your thighs. You stagger to regain your balance, keeping the wand in place as Fiammetta Hawk's climax rolls on.

The idol's eyes are flickering threateningly again. That was close.

Your breathing steadies. You withdraw the silver tip from Mistress Hawk's oozing lips. More carefully now. Circling round the table to where you started, you lift the wand with a firmer intention to be master, author, artist in control. Very well, if Fiammetta Hawk fancies herself a lioness, lying languid and yielding, purring and kneading with her claws, you will paint her every pore and freckle with the sense and seeming of a lioness abandoned to pleasure. Taking the wand, you touch its silver tip to the pale pink skin just above the space between her brows.

The world lurches away into a memory from Fiammetta Hawk, a very familiar time and place...

You raise your favorite cane, lovely, springy, and responsive. So lively in giving the purest essence of bodily presence, a flash of pain. The cane arcs down with a whining hiss to sting the tender pale half-moons of the young witch bent over the punishment horse next to the skinny rump of her soppy scarecrow lover. Ah!

"S-S-SEVEN!" Applebum sobs.

So present in her pain. So raw and real. Satisfaction glows in your breast. Your mouth waters and you swallow.

You jerk back to yourself, Morgan Woodbine, breathing raggedly, your gorge threatening to rise. How much Hawk loved to give pain, how much Fay hated to take it. But you asked to be here to gain the Tutor's favor, to write a story of pleasure upon Mistress Hawk's every nerve, for Fay and Lolo's sake, and for your own.

Vibrating a brief verse of invocation, you call your whole will into your work. Writing your vision in energy from your mind through the tip of the wand into the Tutor's orb of sensations, you picture a lioness, her jaws bloody, her hunger sated, rolling in the grass under the warmth of the afternoon sun. The wind tickles her whiskers, the tickles spread over her head to the tips of her ears, and her great jaws open in a sharp-toothed yawn. As the grass, as the sun, as the wind, you play upon her body in your vision, watching the limbs of the Tutor stretching and bending with the lovely sensations of sky and earth playing upon her. Gently, you tease out the strands circling through her sex, painting the sensation of a warm wind tickling her right there. Fiammetta Hawk, her eyes closed, rolls into a crouch atop the table and tilts her buttocks up, presenting them, hungry for fulfillment. You pause to compose a sensual seeming, letting it drift above the scene until you charge its empty form with seeming solidity.

Your wand flicks downward, and the seeming pounces upon Mistress Hawk's yearning body. She grunts heavily and slumps forward, feeling a great creature pin her under its weight. She squeals as teeth seize the back of her neck and claws rake her shoulders and thighs.

This time your penetration is deliberate. As Hawk squeals and writhes under the seeming of a great creature pressing her down, biting and clawing her, you aim the wand, conjure up a seeming of thickness, and smoothly thrust it into her vagina. Her squeal cuts off in a gasp, then a throaty groan as her hips rock, thrusting back at the bestial member filling her utterly.

Her groans and thrusts go on and on and on, until finally every drop of pleasure is squeezed from her. The Tutor's pose softens from a receptive crouch and collapses into a limp heap upon the table, sliding her vagina off the wand.

Your body and mind are a confused wash of feelings and sensations. Mastery. Pride. Worry. Disgust. Wonder. Desire. Where could you take Fay, like this? Where could you take Golondrina?

On a 7-9, gain +1 XP. Mistress Fiammetta Hawk is obsessed with your consuming sexual vision and becomes your HANGER-ON.

Roll +CUNNING(+2) to ASK FOR A FAVOR.

⚀⚀ + 2 = 4, Miss.

It takes a long time for Fiammetta Hawk to come back to herself after the sexual vision you painted upon her with the ebony wand. Her eyes flicker open with a soft and dreamy look. She rests, looking nowhere in particular, until you bend closely and call her name.

"Mistress Hawk?" you say. "Tutor?"

Fiammetta Hawk's eyes focus upon you. Her lips bend into a broad smile. "Morgan, you magnificent bitch," she says. She reaches out with both hands and pulls your lips to hers, giving you a hot, searching kiss. "You are a wonder."

Oh no.

"Did I prove myself, Mistress Hawk?" you say.

She gives you a lazy smile. "Very much so," she says. "Even more, you've proven that the wand has a higher and better use than dueling, then banishing and warding."

Oh dear.

"But the Tower?" you begin.

"Pish," she says. "You and I will be working with it together. The wand is an enchantress' tool, and you and the wand have brought out the best in each other. There can be no excuse for using it for janitorial purposes."

No, no, no...

"Now run along, Morgan," Mistress Hawk says. "This is going into safekeeping."

"Yes, Tutor," you say. You try and keep a happy look on your face. Inside you are glum, resentful, thwarted, and horny enough to leap on someone. The aphrodisiac oil still courses through your veins. To leap on someone. Almost anyone. But not Hawk. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, yes you will!" Mistress Hawk says. She mauls you with another kiss. You suppose it's better to be appreciated by senior House staff than leaving with a raw bum.

Gain +1 XP from your magical sexual vision with Fiammetta Hawk. You have 1 XP.

You have Ambition +2, Bravery -1, Cunning +2, Diligence +1.
You know the spell TRANSFORM and the Forbidden Spell SHAMEGASM

You have a FAVOR from Pipistrelle Clawson, Minerval Prefect.
Your roommate Fay in House Minerval and your soon-to-be roommate Golondrina are each your FRIEND.
Barbara Torch, Warden of Leontes, dramatic and impulsive duelist, is your ENEMY
Fiammetta Hawk, Tutor of Minerval, sensualist, devotee of wielding the cane, is now your HANGER-ON.

You owe Wardress Euryale an EASY GOAL (-1) vs. Diligence to complete the banishing and warding of Iris Amethystine's Tower for you, Fay, and Golondrina to live in.

Possible next moves:

• Try try again. Roll +DILIGENCE(+0) (-1 Easy Goal, +1 Diligence) to grit it out.
• Enlist Pip's help. Use her FAVOR to attempt to ACHIEVE YOUR GOAL. Roll +DILIGENCE(+2) (+1 Diligence, -1 Easy Goal, +2 FAVOR).
• Encounter Golondrina to ASK FOR A FAVOR to help meet your GOAL. Roll +CUNNING(+4) (+2 CUNNING, +2 FRIEND) to ENCOUNTER her, then +AMBITION to ASK FOR A FAVOR.
• Talk to Dorothy, who was worried about your duel with Barbara Torch, according to Fay. Roll +CUNNING(+2) to ENCOUNTER her and ask her what she thought of the duel. Perhaps you'll learn something. Then go back to your GOAL. Dorothy has done a lot of facilities work, so she might be helpful with the Tower.