A dance of victory! But...

You circle more slowly now, the previous ostentation lost as you resume greater control of your form. You suspect that outburst was a hangover from your sister’s psyche.

However, as you eye the angry, partly clothed female warrior that kneels in the dirt, there is still the small matter of a duel to settle. You are also all too aware that an unruly crowd circles the pair of you and your recent high jinks (why did you get so carried away?) has inflamed their passions, and in this petite female form, nearly naked, you feel ****. To them, and the woman: there was something else mixed with her ire when the loss of your loincloth stripped you bare before her.

You survey the crowd as you circle, buying time. Their numbers rule out a hex which would, besides, leave you weak and at the mercy of the warrior queen who is taller, stronger and angry. Although ravishingly beautiful. As the increasingly familiar pulse between your legs echoed that thought, you wondered where it came from: You? Or your sister? Or both?

On the other hand, you could give the crowd what they wanted, bearing in mind that they may be subjects of this warrior, and hope that your victory would placate (free?) them, or, at least, buy you time to make your escape.

You looked down at your nearly naked female form. A hex to resume your male shape was out of the question. You had stumbled upon this by accident and reversals would take time and energy that you didn’t have. Besides, for all you knew you would plunge your sister into this melee, and you could not risk that.

You make up your mind as you cease circling and with your back to the crowd, slowly raise your arms to command their attention. Although some of the comments from the men behind you suggest that your naked bottom had already done so, and you shiver at the ribald suggestions they make. Thy also remind you of your possible fate should this go wrong.

You twirl your wrists and start to hex the beautiful woman before you, slowly raising her to her feet until she stands erect, breasts proudly on display again to the crowd, that murmers their approval. If it were in doubt, they now know they are in the presence of a powerful wizard, even if it does look like a naked girl.

You make the woman circle slowly against her will and her resistance adds to the effect, the onlookers clearly not only enjoying her discomfort at being made to reveal herself to them, but also being **** under the power of a mere girl.

One circle complete, you snap your fingers and one side of her metal loincloth starts to unravel. You tease the audience by letting it slip down before snapping it up again, which elicits approval from the crowd and a threatening snarl from your victim.

You switch to the other side and repeat your show, allowing them a glimpse of her pubis this time (you assume, since she has her back to you) before covering her up again, and add a swaying of her hips to the routine. You make her dance slowly, sinuously, provocatively before the watchful eyes, slow circles as she sways her hips. You feel a warmth between your own thighs as you watch. Clearly your sister’s tastes extended beyond men, you smile.

As she comes to face you, you stop her dance and lift up the rear of her tiny chain mail outfit, to display her bum to the crowd. Again, more noises of approval and, emboldened, you make her continue her sexy routine until you get to enjoy the rear view.

Her ass is firm and round. Bisected by a rough leather thong that looks makeshift, even home made. A crude narrow string of raw leather that disappears up between her cheeks and down between her legs.

Now for the coup de grace, and you raise one hand high before sweeping low in a mock bow of showmanship, making the chain mail slip to the floor, denuding your prey.

There are cheers, but also gasps of admiration from within the audience, and an occasional chuckle. This disarms you momentarily and the hex slips into the ether, sliding from your grasp.

The woman stands unmoving, but her buttocks clearly tense slightly. An ass that you can’t help but admire. She slowly starts to rotate and, as she comes to face you, there is a challenging smile on her face. Her stance is bold, but not threatening, as she faces you square on.

You take in her full firm breasts, larger than yours, as she stands proud, her legs slightly apart. Balanced and poised, her head held high. Defiant.

You look down over her well defined abs, directing your gaze between her legs. Golden curls, a red tinge where the sun catches them, carefully shaved in the shape of a heart. Below the curls, strapped to her inner thigh, is the cause of the crowd’s astonishment, and it makes your throat go dry. An exquisitely carved and shaped ebony phallus, secured by the rough leather thong. It is a thing of rare beauty with such detail in the carvings, a proud ridge around the head (that you start to imagine what pleasure that might impart) and a shine to the dark black wood that makes it shimmer in the sun, almost alive.

Freed from her hex, your opponent slowly unbinds the wooden phallus, a warm smile spreading across her face. Once loosened it springs up to stand proud from her lovely body, her hands on her hips. Provocative and enticing. Your loins glow and, as the crowd shuffles forward to form a circle around you both, you wonder.

“Who is the victor here?”