The Mirror's Image

The dreaded author note: I am unsure whether or not I will continue with this story and so I am submitting it in hopes that I will get some feedback on whether I should waste my time on it or not. This is a very rough version of the first chapter. If I do continue with the story I will probably rewrite the chapter later. If I do not rewrite it, then I can only hope that I don’t come to hate it later because if I do it goes into the instant delete pile. So, tell me what you think good or bad (especially grammar mistakes!), but if it’s bad be constructive! NO FLAMES!!!


I often watched him in the mirror. He was so beautiful and dark. His muscles glistened with sweat as he moved savagely in order to attain his pleasure. It was sinfully wrong to watch him like this without his knowing, but since I could never have him, I couldn’t tear myself away. He was vicious in bed. Powerful and domineering. I wanted to be one of those girls that he brought home. No. I wanted to be more. I wanted to be the one girl he slept with more than once. That’s how it always was with him. Use them and then leave them. After he had tasted them once, he never wanted them again. They were boring. I wouldn’t be. I wanted to be his lover. Not his wife or his mistress or his one time fling. I wanted the trill of the chase and then the glorious rush of victory that would come when ever I claimed him as my own for those few hours, and I wanted to be able to do it whenever I needed it. I wanted him to trail kisses down my neck leaving the occasional hard nip. I wanted him to draw blood. To see it run crimson down my skin. I wanted him to go lower. I wanted him to give me the kind of pleasure I would never find anywhere else, but I didn’t want him to do it because I wanted it. I wanted him to do it because it thrilled him to do it to me. I wanted him to take me in all ways possible. I would have loved that.

However, for him, those desires were impractical. He was a warrior, an assassin for the Valtae, which was the most powerful clan of assassins in the faerie world. He was immortal and beautiful, while I was merely a human sorcerous, a young one at that. Even if my status as human wouldn’t chase him off, my appearance and attitude would. His taste in women was frighteningly shallow. He liked them tall, blonde, and stupid. The more they giggled incessantly, the more he liked them. I, on the other hand, liked to think of myself as intelligent, and no one had ever been suicidal enough to say otherwise. I was short, with dark hair, and darker eyes. I embodied the stereotypes around what a sorcerous should look like. In other words, I was not worth his time or his bed. My lusting after him would lead to nothing, but heartache for myself. Nevertheless, I wanted him and that lust would not go away. Every night I would gaze into the mirror and every night I would imagine myself as one of those lucky, stupid girls. And every morning, I would laugh as he sent another one off rejected when she tried to make things emotional. They were too naive to realize that they weren’t good enough for him.

At the time, I lived with my mother; Allishia Carthollen. She was the high sorceress of the council and a most powerful adversary. As such, I spent very little time with her growing up. Her attention was always needed elsewhere. For most of my life, I was left to my own devices. I was the daughter of our leader, and, as such, I faced no consequences for my actions. I always got my way. What’s more, I was powerful. People had a tendency to be cowed over by me. No one ever quite knew how to react when I was around. I made them very nervous and I liked it that way.

I was sixteen when I first saw him. My mother was celebrating her four hundred and fiftieth birthday. This was a big event for her. Every fiftieth birthday was important since it was a halfway mark for another century. My mother was still young for a sorceress. While, sorcerers are mortal, we do not age as normal humans. Our magic preserves us, and in return we build it higher. Every century our magic gets a large boost. My mother was powerful to begin with. This is why she was in charge at such a young age. Her power was breathtaking as it was, and every century it only got more spectacular. That’s what I was told anyway. I was too young to remember my mother’s last century. My mother’s power was the backbone of the council and it demanded respect from the other races. Hence, this party was very important for our people. Naturally, all of the guild was there as well as representatives from the other races who could be bothered to attend a mortal gathering. Which happened to be more and more races every year. The reception hall of our castle was decorated exotically. People were drinking and laughing. I, however, was bored. At the time, all I could think of was finding some form of entertainment. I was not a social person like my mother. I never wanted power or fame as she did. It was everyone’s misconception that after my mother stepped down from the council that I would take over in her stead. I was the logical choice. I had been raised at the guild castle, I had been raised to be an expert in politics, I was raised to be her heir, a position that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

I was standing by mother when I saw him. I didn’t know who he was, but I instantly recognized that he must have been one of the Fae representatives. He was too perfect looking not to have been. He was standing stoically, surrounded by two scantily clad elves; one with long silver-blond hair and the other with short fiery red locks. The sluts were rubbing against him. Their beautiful, wispy bodies pressed intimately against his own. I immediately envied them. He was gorgeous and he radiated a power that demanded attention and respect. The power in his aura made me tingle. At first, I thought that he wasn’t interested in them. He was doing his best to ignore them and watch the other guests, but then the red headed elf slipped her hands a little lower and I saw his jaw tighten. He growled something at her, a warning, but elves are mischievous and don’t listen well to warnings. A few minutes later he was dragging the girls out of the hall, pulling their giggling forms out of sight.

I was young at that time. I had never been touched and the sight of his firm body aroused me and made my toes curl in pleasure. Seeing him walk off with the elves, however, brought out my catty side. I had always hated elves, mostly because I was jealous of them. I had always wanted to look as they did. Tall and skinny. Instead, I was short and curvy. I thought I looked frumpy, and no matter how many men assured me that I did not, they would always choose the elves company over mine at the end of the night.

Regardless of my petty jealousy, I wanted to see more of this man. I was captivated. He had caught my interest and left my head reeling. I quickly followed the entourage out of the reception hall and then out of the house. They were headed toward the gardens; the maze to be precise. The maze was beautiful this time of year. In the early spring, the bushes were covered in millions of tiny purple flowers and, during the night, those flowers glowed with a haunting purple light. It felt wrong to follow him like this, when I knew what he was going to do, but I was helpless to resist the powerful urge to watch him. He pulled the girls deep into the maze, to the hidden garden, as we called it. The hidden garden lay in the middle of the maze. The garden consisted solely of red roses. Their smell caressed the air and wove a spell of enchantment around the place. A single stone bench lay in the dead center heart of the garden. That was where he was pulling the two giggling elves. I stayed back, hidden in the shadows of the tall hedges of the maze.

He was rough with them. He sat on the stone bench and pulled them to him, one on either side. His legs were parted and the girls each straddled a thigh as massive as a tree trunk. The blond leaned forward, crushing her breasts to his chest as she began to kiss his neck. The red head, however, went in for the kill. Her lips crashed against his her fingers locked into his hair. It was easy to see that he liked her aggressiveness. His arm wrapped around her waist, his hand trailing down to cup her bottom and press her tighter against him. Both girls were eagerly rubbing themselves on him. It was several moments before Blondie grew tired of being ignored. Her hand adventurously trailed down his chest. Her nails were digging in. He shuddered and broke his kiss with the red head as Blondie roughly ripped the shirt off of his head. Obviously not one to waste an opportunity, she quickly cupped his cheeks, and pulled his lips to hers. The red head looked angry, but she decided to play it cool. She began to kiss and lick her way down his chest, stopping to gently lay a kiss on his nipple and then stopping again to lay a series of nips along his rib cage. When the red head opened his pants, a wide grin planted itself on her face. His jutting erection sprung free of its confines. An excited shiver raced through my body and I desperately wished that I were that red head. I had never seen a man fully revealed before. He was large. Larger than I thought men were supposed to be. Tall and thick. The red head licked her lips and then wrapped them firmly around the tip of his arousal. I couldn’t see what she did after that, but it obviously pleased him because he let out a grunt of approval and buried his fingers in her hair. At the same time, his interaction with Blondie never died down. While I had been distracted watching the red head, Blondie had removed her skimpy dress. He was no longer kissing her lips, but was, instead, sucking desperately on one of her nipples. Blondie moaned and thrashed. She arched against him and grinded her pelvis into his leg. She was begging for him. Suddenly, he pulled the red head off of him by her hair and hauled her up to slam their lips together in a brutal kiss. Then he pulled away and gently pushed Blondie off of him. He pulled both girls to the ground with him. He lay on his back and arranged Blondie on his lap until she was straddling his arousal. He then pulled the red head up until she was straddling his face. With one quick motion, Blondie embedded him within her. She threw her head back and began to bounce on his lap. The red head was firmly seated above his face. His hands were on her bottom kneading and pulling her closer. From my angle I couldn’t see what he was doing to her, but I didn’t really need to. The girl’s moans were sharp and I could see her rocking her hips slightly. Everythng began to bleed together and I could no longer tell which person was making which noise. The night air was filled with the sound of panting. Then I realized, I was panting too.

My body was on fire. My breasts were full and aching and I could feel my own wetness on my thighs. I was startled. I had never been aroused to this point before. I was a virgin. I had never felt the need to share my body with a male until this point. My few needs for pleasure had been easy enough to fulfill myself. But now I was crazy with the need to feel a man within me. I wanted to be touched; to be petted. I managed to tear my gaze away from the tempting scene and walk away from the sounds of the orgy behind me. I knew what I had to do. I needed a partner. I had been waiting to have sex until I felt that I was ready for it, until I felt that I could take from my partner without being taken advantage of. Obviously, I had waited too long. For mortals, sex was supposed to be cherished, but for sorcerers, who are trapped between the land of the mortal and the land of the magical, sex was merely a means to an end. We had it when we needed it and we didn’t go out of our way to avoid it. When a person was ready for sex was up to the individual. I was a late starter. I had wanted to make sure that I could take care of myself and not end up relying on my lover. Either way, I could wait no longer. I needed fulfillment now.