Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Spell Check (Patreon)

As the head of Humanoid Resources for Team Bounty Hunter, it was Inquisitor’s job to know her party’s strengths. Her duties included annual evaluations, personnel reports, and personalized coaching. And being so intimately acquainted with her senior VP in charge of spellstriking, Inquisitor knew that Magus had many strengths. For example, through long study and painful experience, the catfolk had added potion identification to her skillset. Her positive impact on company morale was particularly noteworthy, and a personal favorite of Inquisitor’s. Being a catfolk, tracking came naturally to Magus, as did social media posting. Magus could even, if circumstances demanded it, bitch slap a motherfucker. In most respects her resume was exemplary. 

There were, however, a few notable areas for improvement. One of these areas was word puzzles. Magus had never quite got the trick of them. 

“Let me work on that lower pack,” purred Magus. “You’re so tense!”

The knobby wand pressed close to Inquisitor’s spine, rolling out the muscles. She really was tense! And in Inquisitors ear, a thin voice echoed Magus’s: “Let me work on that lower pack. You’re so tense!”

The drow sighed out her comfort. 

“I wonder if the wand has other settings?” said Magus. 

“...Has other settings?” echoed the wand in Inquisitor’s ear. 

The instrument in question faithfully did its job, repeating Magus’s words at a whisper with each activation. The instrument in question also took the opportunity to venture lower than Inquisitor’s lower back. The dark elf tensed, but then she relaxed into it. It felt as though her ass was slowly melting. 

“Somebody has been working those glutes,” said Magus. 

“Those glutes,” said the wand

The table was warm and firm beneath Inquisitor’s belly. Her masseuse’s hands were warm and firm upon her buttocks. The head of Humanoid Resources arched her back, stretching into the sensation… And then she felt the wand dip lower yet. It began inching slowly and languorously — knob by polished knob — within her waiting Underdark. 

“You love your happy endings, don’t you Quiz?” said Magus. 

“Don’t you Quiz?” whispered the wand.

And before her mind went entirely blank, Inquisitor made a mental note to reassess her lover’s talent for wordplay. Perhaps it was a wand of massage after all?