My name, well- just call me Abel. Everyone does.
I'm one of the owners of the Coven, probably the most public of the owners as well. I look like a devastatingly handsome Caucasian man in his late 30's to early 40's if I may say so myself, brown hair with enough grey to make me look distinguished. Those in the know about magic are pretty sure I'm at least 90 years old and that I look this way by my magic, and they are mostly right. What not many people know is that the Coven stores magical energy every time someone orgasms within these walls. With access to that much energy I can tell you that I don't look this good because of an illusion spell, it's because with access to this much energy I can basically do the magical equivalent to surgery.
My office is on the top floor, away from all the traffic where it's nice and private. It's a large comfortable room with deep colors and lit only by candle light, and yes the rumors that the only pieces of furniture in a room large enough to have a small house inside are my desk, a couple chairs, and a king size bed with golden silk sheets are true. What most people don't know is that it this room's design isn't just a whim of a rich pervert who likes to pretend magic is real. This room was carefully designed and planned to be the magical equivalent of an operating room sitting on top of it's own power station. It's not like I horde my magical surgical techniques for myself.
The most common thing I do is cosmetic surgery on the girls that work for me downstairs. They don't mind, my techniques are non invasive and all they remember was the round of incredible sex I used to conk them out. Nothing too large, every single thing I do is small and subtle. Overtime though it can add up, and it's the reason why The Coven has a reputation for having the most beautiful girls in Vegas. But while the most common use of my office is cosmetic improvement, I do some real healing work in here as well.
Take my next appointment, Alice. She knows about this place because she's a Necromancer but I try to not hold it against her. When she first came to me she begged for my help. She had Lung Cancer, and science had given her maybe 3 months to live if she didn't push herself. Necromancy can kill a cancerous tumor sure, in theory. Kind of like how you can kill a housefly on a Van Gogh painting with a sledgehammer without scuffing the paint, in theory. It's careful work, she has to stop using magic entirely and spend 4 hours a day at least twice a week in my office. To be more specific she has to have each ankle handcuffed to a bedpost at her feet while her hands are handcuffed to the headboard above her head, wearing only a blindfold and a ball gag, with at least a couple dildos inside her the full 4 hours. Sometimes we have to go more intensive where she has to fuck everyone that walks into my office during those 4 hours, or that's what she thinks. Really they're all been my girls, me, or another trusted Pornomancer but she can't know that, the taboo gives her energy a much needed boost when it does flow from her.
I know that sounds cruel, but in my defense it's working. It's been six months and not only is her health visibly better but the tumor is half it's original size. |