There was an energy, a sort of electrical buzzing that seemed to suffuse every nook and cranny of the city. It was hidden force, one only certain people could feel moving through them, guiding them. It was Lady Bevel's finest work, an enchantment that was so subtle, few knew it was affecting them. It covered the entirety of San Franscisco, compelling those attuned to its energies to seek out its source, the legendary den of debauchery, the house of sin, the sanctuary of euphoria: The Devil's Dream club and bordello.<br/><br/>You would think the city's residents would notice an enormous tower in the center of San Francisco. It was more than just a night club, bar and cat house. It was a refuge for all the supernatural entities in the area, a veritable mecca for any non-human sentient finding themselves in the States. The tower was easily as tall as the Transamerica Pyramid building downtown but it was infinitely larger inside. Some floors were open to everyone while others would only appear when the right person needed to find them. It was a tower of pure magic, with doors leading to a myriad of realms and plains of existence, constantly reconfiguring and reshaping itself to reflect the needs of its patrons and residents. The building even extended into the earth itself, far below the surface to the deep markets and hellplanes, to the primordial energy channels that ran beneath the city.<br/><br/>And Lady Bevel ruled it all from her gold and ivory penthouse from which she could look down on the entirety of the city. A witch of unimaginable age, she looked barely twenty five. However, she had opted to allow herself to exhibit the kind of hefty curves of an older woman, often wearing opulent dresses cut in ways to accentuate her bust, shapely behind and supple, long legs. Her hair never stayed the same color for long but she seemed to always go back to auburn or chestnut. Her makeup was subtle, magically applied, but still striking and eye catching. She commanded attention when she entered a room and her favor was considered one of the most valuable things a supernatural entity could possess in this part of the world.<br/><br/><br/>But tonight, Lady Bevel was not watching the city or commanding the attention of her court in the floors below. She was preoccupied with one of her consorts, a young thing she'd found several years ago working in a back alley potion shop on the east side. Her talent had been evident even then and Lady Bevel had taken an interest in her education. The girl was one of her best earners now but the old witch still enjoyed breaking her in as if it were her first day.<br/><br/>Ink was suspended in the air above Lady Bevel's bed, contorted as if invisible ropes had bound her in place. Lady Bevel lounged on a love seat not far away, occasionally flicking her wrist, fingers moving in intricate motions as she wove silent spells, using telekinesis to turn Ink this way and that to view her from different angles.<br/><br/>An outsider wouldn't be able to tell what was truly happening. On the surface, it looked like Lady Bevel was just watching Ink sort of drift in the air. But inside the younger witch's mind, a myriad of vibrant visions and sensations were running wild. Lady Bevel had powers one could only dream of and one of them was her ability to manipulate perceptions. Ink was in a moonlit glade, beset on all sides by a myriad of fantastic creatures, all intent on using her body. The chaos and humiliation of the unspeakable acts they performed on her was something Ink had come to quite enjoy during her sessions with her mentor. And Lady Bevel watched it all, peeking into Ink's mind.<br/><br/>The younger witch twitched and writhed, like a dog might while having a vivid dream about hunting a rabbit or being chased. Instead, in her mind, a Minotaur was suspended over her, roughly rutting her, suspended on two treetrunks for arms on either side of her. His musty, cloying breath ruffled her midnight hair and he seemed to get excited every time she cried out from the sheer size of his penetration. Another phallus filled her mouth and any moans were muffled by the warm, thick meat. Lady Bevel flicked her wrist and Ink's bedfellows vanished, replaced by a blue mist that seemed both intangible and strangely solid at the same time. The cool mist surrounded her, penetrating her, causing an electric tingling wherever it touched. In moments, Lady Bevel was watching as her young protege writhed, pussy clenching and squirting as the mist drove her to orgasm without ever actually being touched.<br/><br/>The mist receded from Ink's mind and she calmed, going limp in the invisible bindings, her breath heavy, skin flushed as Lady Bevel gently lowered her to the bed and released her. The witch matron stood from the loveseat, elegant heels clicking on the floor as she approached Ink, sitting beside her and brushing some hair out of her eyes. She let her hand rest on Ink's cheek. "What do you say?" She said in a melodious voice.<br/><br/>"Thank you mistress," Ink replied dutifully, turning her face so that she could kiss Lady Bevel's palm.<br/><br/>"Good girl. Now get yourself cleaned up. The evening rush is about to begin and you're on duty."<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>It was a night like any other. The club was full. People danced. People drank. ...And did other things in the dark. Ink worked the bar, mixing drinks and occasionally adding in potions or infusing them with magic to give extra effects.<br/><br/>There were the usual regulars, people of importance and prominence within the supernatural west coast community holding court with their followers in their usual booths or VIP lounges. She was greeted by several people as they walked in, some friends and acquaintances, some clients. She was one of Lady Bevel's proteges which meant she took only the most prestigious clients. It was quite the roster among the city's supernatural elite. Sometimes Ink thought she should be the one paying. Her status aside, she was hardly the most powerful of witches. But she was descended from the ancient Wytch race which seemed to drive anyone who knew anything about magical history wild at the chance to bed one with such a bloodline.<br/><br/>Because so few were worthy of her services, in Lady Bevel's eyes, anyway, Ink's other talents were often put to use far more often. She had an affinity for potions, especially coming up with tailor made compounds on the fly. It was quite lucrative and she was happy to put those skills to use in the relaxation rooms of the club where some would go to meditate with the help of magical incense. It was a kind of therapy the Devil's Dream offered, a way for clients to gain clarity in their lives through introspection. Ink practically ran them all, inducing trances and meditations. Sometimes there was a sexual component but mostly it involved a calm moment of respite and the stillness needed for her potions to do their work. It was where her true passion lay.<br/><br/>Several of Ink's coworkers led a group of clients toward the back, stopping at the counter for Ink to hand over several vials of different colored liquid that could be poured into the sauna heaters to make a pleasant steam, another relaxation therapy. One of the men had lizard eyes. Another had a feline tail. Skinwalkers. Odd to see them in the city.<br/><br/>"How is everything?" came Jarre's voice from behind her. He was Lady Bevel's other consort, a slender, tall man with light blond hair he kept in a ponytail. His nails were painted purple and he wore lipstick. It somehow worked for him.<br/><br/>"Fine. Normal night," she replied. "Is Lady Bevel going to make an appearance?"<br/><br/>"I don't know. She said she had paperwork. Some deal with the Eldritch Princes. But she asked that I bring her one of your Nightbloom brews," Jarre replied as he checked his nails.<br/><br/>"She wants to induce a trance? To the Eldritch Realm? I'll have to make it extra strong and you'll have to keep watch on her so she doesn't untether from her body."<br/><br/>"I know what to do," Jarre replied with a nod as Ink mixed the Nightbloom and handed it to him. "Has anyone made an appointment with you tonight? Lady Bevel was asking."<br/><br/>"No. I was thinking of heading home early. Lady Bevel wore me out earlier."<br/><br/>Jarre pursed his lips. He was jealous of how fond Lady Bevel was of Ink. He'd been her favorite until Ink came along. But he was too professional to say anything. "Right. I'll tell her."