The Wizard and the Torch

by Flaulus

Chapter 2

Ask most people, and they would say the minimum age to drive a car in the UK was seventeen. However, Gene had wanted a moped for his sixteenth birthday which everyone knew was legal, but which his mother associated with noise, unfashionable fuels and the choice of yobbos. He received a low powered car which met the legal requirements of a light quad-bike. At school, it was met with curiosity, then derision for being nerdy. Derision turned to jealousy one day, when a boy, John, in the year above, a sportsman, with girls watching him as walked down the corridor and generally popular, approached Gene.

"My dad's been held up." he said, "I don't suppose you could give me a lift, could you? I'll get soaked in this rain."

"Yeah sure." Gene managed to stammer. "You don't live that far from me, do you?"

"Thanks. I've passed my test, and I'll be getting my own wheels soon but Dad wants me to take an advanced course. It'll help with the insurance."

Gene was caught between his underwear trying to contain his growing manhood and appearing cool. Coolness just about won as they ran for the car and got in.

"Hey, this is neat." John said, "It beats Dad panicking about insurance if I want to borrow his. Are they expensive?"

Gene was in heaven, the worldly-wise one, sitting next to the sexiest boy in school. Sadly, all they had was a mutual interest in light cars and Gene's sexual attraction remained unrequited. They still smiled and greeted each other in school, but it was typical of Gene's sex life until he found the torch. Smiling contentedly, Gene glanced across to Malcolm who smiled back. His sex life had definitely improved, but how was he going to handle owning a slave? What would happen when he went home?

Malcolm was also thinking about their relationship. He had never thought about falling in love with a Master before. His duties were either a curse, or a pleasure, depending on who he was serving. What truly shocked him was the idea he could ask to leave Gene's service and move on. No other Master would ever tolerate such a betrayal, but did he want to leave Gene? Malcolm frowned. He had been taught to be a useful, therefore valuable slave. He would have to teach Gene to be a suitable master, but what if they lived on Gene's world? Despite what Gene might think, it was the first time his future was uncertain, he was out of control, and it scared him.

For a time, Malcolm could forget his doubts as they set up camp. Sliding the canvass over was a two man job. Pegging it down was the same with all tents, and a slave's work. Gene accepted it was Malcolm's job, so showed him what to do and left him to it. Butane gas stoves were a novelty, so was making tea, Gene thought back to something the torch had typed. Training. Show, then expect him to do it. Gene was not fond of tea and preferred cola, partly to annoy his mother, but Gene had to concede, watching his slave make it, add serviettes to a plastic tray and serve it while he sat and watched, made him feel special.

Serviettes, trays and other items were his mother's idea of camping necessities but for once, he was glad there had not been time to sort through the kit.

"Where's yours?" Gene asked.

"There's water in the lake, Master. May I go down to drink?"

"No! You will share what I have." Gene said, "Make your own drink or have a cola."

"Then, if I may, I'll have one of those urns of water."

Gene was puzzled for a moment, but then replied, "Oh, the bottled water. Working slaves need to keep hydrated. Drink as much as you want."

Malcolm grinned, "Yes Master. I'll be happy to obey."

"Good! Give me space. I'm talking to a lamp, and I feel silly."

"You mean you are weaving spells with your familiar, and a mere slave should not hear your chants."

"It sounds better, but you know the truth. We'll save your version for strangers."

Gene turned his attention back to the lamp.

"I want Malcolm to go home if he wants to. That means making sure he doesn't get punished. I'm thinking I should offer to pay his old master for his services."


"OK. I think it would be a good idea if I offered information about the pirates."


"My first idea is you supply the intelligence."

It is understood you need help. Your tradition says you should have three wishes. I can comply but urge you to make first wish training for travel and observation.

"OK! It makes sense. Would having a nice big map printed out be a wish?"

No. Definition of observation flexible. Explain need for car.

"I'm not sure. I suppose it would allow me to observe more, and dodge the pirates."

Not fully honest answer. You wish to spy.

I'm thinking about it, but I'm not sure. I'm no soldier so if I'm going to help, then maybe I could gather intelligence."


"Malcolm is wanted back home. I mean he's a wanted criminal. I can't just walk in and ask for a chat with the desk sergeant, can I? I'm a kid and no-one will listen."

Understood. Car will give status, important in dealing with the City Father. Training for travel can take you to place for supplies. Car is electric. You will need charger. Efficient solar power chargers are not invented yet. Pack unwanted consoles and games.

"Understood. Can anyone travel?"

Only you may travel freely, but those authorised by you may also travel. Your doubts about slavery are understood. They are shared. Malcolm's willingness noted, so respect his ways.

"Yeah but I know I shouldn't, but I can't help thinking about being able to cane him or spank him."

Thoughts natural. Enjoy them. They do not interfere with travel restrictions.

Gene nodded, "But I mustn't do anything."

Malcolm understands strict master, willingly serves you for your kindness and so is property that can travel with you. If needed, you must punish him or others will.


You are hoping for user's manual on slave-keeping. It would be a wish and a waste. Be guided by innate kindness. Leaving travel instructions. Conversation must end.

"Understood." Gene replied with a cheeky grin before calling Malcolm over.

"Is the tent secure?" he asked.

"Yes Master. I've unpacked what I can, but I'm not sure what anything is, so it's difficult to pack away."

"Understood. If we visit your old Master, I've got to look like an important visitor, and you've got to look my prisoner, so you're not taken. Is that right?"

"Yes Master. You're not going to worry about whether I'll like being in chains, are you?"

"Just listen. Would information about a pirate's attack be worth more than you?"

"Yes Master. It would be losing one slave against losing many, as well as losing the grain stores and other goods. Against that, I'm worthless."

"OK then. I've got some more magic chants to make. Go away and do something useful."

"Yes, Master."

Go away and do something useful? God, he was beginning to sound like his mother. Gene grimaced at the thought but then, maybe her style was better suited to managing slaves.

"OK Lamp, or should I call you Genie."

I am not the genie. Think of your own name and how you appeared to Malcolm. Much is ordained, but decisions are now yours. What do you need?

"To collect my car. What was all that about a charger not being invented yet?"

Training exercise. Think of a place where your old games would be collector's items.

"The future. Is Malcolm from the past?"

Think of alternates both ahead and behind you.

"That's a bit too sci-fi for me." Gene replied, "You want me to go somewhere, and it'll seem like the future. Is that any good?"

Yes. Do you assume Malcolm is from the past?


Assumptions are a mistake.

Gene thought about questioning the lamp further, but he had enough to deal with. Instead, he called Malcolm over.

"If we visit your city, is there anything we need?"

"No, Master. The City Father will look after you if he thinks you're a powerful wizard."

"And if he doesn't?"

" You won't get into the palace . Well, you may get as far as the dungeon."

Gene nodded, "OK! I get the idea. Sorry, but I need to talk to the lamp again."

"Yes Master, I'll get on with my work and wait for you to summon me again." Malcolm grinned as he spoke, then hurried off.

"Is there any way I can stop him thinking he's my slave?"

No. Think about it. Are you training him to be a good slave or is he training you to be a good Master?

"OK! Can I find him a better collar, I don't know, something that will make him feel special? It's the only thing he's allowed to own, isn't it?"

No. His master owns it. Idea already factored in training trip. Understand, a good slave learns from a good master. Both prosper. It is Malcolm's world, and what he understands. Be honest. Could the son of a rich merchant from his world survive in yours?

"I know I keep going on about it, but it bothers me."

As it should. Remember, you have homelessness and sweat shops on your world. Did you ever worry about it?

"I suppose not. I knew about it, but there wasn't much I could do. OK, I didn't try."


"OK, but I like him. It feels wrong ordering him around, even if it's what he wants."

It's what he understands. You see he prospers. He looks after you. Think contract. Not so different.

Gene nodded, "OK then. I'd like to sort out transport, a drone with a decent camera and a collar and chains to make Malcolm seem valuable. Er, how do I get the old collar off?"

Answer to last question. Focus torch. Explain later. Collect car and goods for barter.

Gene called Malcolm over again.

"I have to go to my world, but I don't think I'll be long. Make yourself comfortable and relax. Hang on though, I'll show you something."

Gene picked up a can of soup, and holding it so Malcolm could see, pushed the bottom of the can upwards, then shook it. Malcolm waited curiously until Gene picked up the can again, opened it at the top and poured the contents into a bowl. Malcolm gasped in amazement as steam rose from the soup. Gene took a spoon and tasted it. Then handed the bowl to Malcolm.

"Careful it'll burn you." Gene said as he pointed, "Do you see those letters there? They say, 'Self-heating'. This is tomato soup. There're other flavours like mushroom, but you'll have to figure what the word written here means. This word means soup."

"Yes Master. How will I know when to prepare your soup?"

"I said relax. Have as much soup as you like. I'll show you more when I get back."

"Yes Master. You want your slave to keep his strength up ready for hard work."

"If you like." Gene replied irritably, upsetting Malcolm.

For Malcolm, upsetting his master was a terrible offence, but he could not understand what he was doing wrong. Why did not Gene like being reminded he was the master? Did Master want to replace him? Why was it so important Gene should want to keep him? The obvious answer that he was a soft touch did not seem right. When it counted, he assumed Malcolm would obey. Could Master be genuinely uncomfortable owning a slave? It seemed incredible and completely outside his experience, but it made sense. So, how did you react to a master like that. Master's last command was to relax. He looked at the chair, Master's chair, took a deep breath and trying to forget every other master's reaction, sat down.

Gene was just as uncertain but for different reasons as he gathered the things he was taking … taking them where? Just what was he supposed to be doing with them? He was decidedly nervous as he sat in his car and looked at the torch.

Drive off the driveway and turn left.

He complied and as he began the turn, the scene outside changed, and he was turning into a narrow, scruffy side road. Somewhere, but it was definitely not the suburban tree-lined avenue where he lived. He stopped outside the only place not boarded up.

A man in his fifties stood by the door.

"That's certainly well-preserved. What did you do to replace the original batteries?"

Go with the flow. Gene was beyond puzzled, and getting used to the bizarre.

"It's all original." Gene replied, "It's exactly as it was built."

"Those old batteries didn't last more than ten years. Don't try to con an expert."

"I'm not. I've got some other stuff, and I'm looking for a trade.

"That's what I'm here for. Bring it in."

As Gene set the box on the counter, the man picked up a laptop and studied it. Gene obligingly pressed the 'On' button, and the shopkeeper watched amazed as it came to life.

"Is that a touchpad?" he asked pointing to the bottom of the keyboard, "Voice activation. Dealer ID 0649921. Display schematics."

"It hasn't got voice activation." Gene explained. "You need to click on the icons to get what you want."

"I've heard of that, but I've never seen it. Have you been raiding your granddad's attic?"

"In a way. It's all mine. I need some stuff and someone said I could trade."

"You don't want to sell for money?"


"That's good." The shopkeeper paused, seeing Gene's puzzled frown.

"This is a swap shop. Since we went cashless, people still want to buy below the radar. A husband might not want to explain buying the goods on that wall, so he doesn't want it in his bank records." Gene turned to wall in question and blushed. The goods were sex toys from dildos to whips. The shopkeeper continued, "There's a load of innocent stuff but if some kid came in here wanting cash for a load of valuables, I'd be thinking stolen goods and drugs."

"No. I need a solar-powered charger for my car to start with. Radios and …" Gene trailed off looking at the sex toys, "And maybe collars and cuffs or something."

"Do you want it all retro and off the grid. Your car's manual. Is there a reason it's not on the grid? At your age, I'm not even sure it's legal."

"Are we talking driverless cars?" Gene asked, "When you say grid, do you mean Internet?"

"Your stuff's not only retro, so is the way you talk. What's it all about?"

"OK! Supposing I said I want things for a school project. I'm setting a scene for the 80's, 90's and I want people to get a feel for things."

"1990's; about ninety years ago. If I remember my history, your car's a bit modern for the time, but I seem to remember something about ham radio and citizen's band. Frequencies have probably been reallocated, but I might find something. Let me check."

Gene nodded and waited, but the shopkeeper simply stood though his fingers were constantly moving. He was wearing glasses but Gene had taken them for granted, but now he wondered whether they served another purpose.

"OK." The man said, "I've done a conditional auction. I can sell your car and your other goods at a good price. The car's a collector's item, especially if it runs on the original batteries. It's original power sources that are so rare, and a collection like this is unbelievable. You've got an original drone on the back seat. Aren't you swapping that?"

"No, I need it."

"It's boxed and pristine. I'd offer five replacements as a swap, providing it works."

Gene stared, and the shopkeeper grinned, "You picked the right time to sell. Nostalgia for this period is peaking, I'll show you the specs for the replacement car, if you like."

"I can swap my car?" Gene gasped.

I'd say you'd get two for one, and I've already got buyers."

"I only need one, but it's got to be a manual."

"How would a Land Rover suit. An off-roader I mean."

"I've heard of Land Rover. They were around in the 2020's."

"If you like. Are you interested?"

"Yeah. It sounds good. As long as it could work back then, I'm interested."

"Where's your headset? I'm trying to link, but it's not registering."

"I haven't got one." Gene replied.

"You haven't got one? Are you one of those anti-tech rebels?"

"No. It's nothing like that. I'm a …" Gene trailed off. He was going to say, 'I'm a time-traveller', but he lost his nerve.

"Go on," the shopkeeper said, "I will need some story for a deal like this and I.D."

"OK, I'm a time-traveller. I got the car for my sixteenth birthday about four months ago in 2021. I need stuff for a quest in a different time."

"Just a minute." The shopkeeper stood again doing his finger movements.

"Believe it or not, I can accept your story. The law is weird with a mixture of privacy regulations and criminal checks. Legally I need an explanation that fits, but I'm not allowed to question it. Sixty-year old batteries with a life-span of ten years still functioning corroborates your story. No. I don't believe you. Time travel is impossible, but I don't have a better explanation, so I'm obliged to accept yours. What's this quest?"

Gene gave up trying not to embarrass himself.

"There's a city, I don't know where it is, but I'd guess it's a few thousand years ago. It's going to be attacked by pirates, and they're not nice people. I need to explain how I know and how I can get messages instantly when it would take them two days by horseback. So I'm going as a powerful wizard."

"OK! That fits in with equipment you've asked about, so I have to accept it, and it makes life easier. If I focus on farming and rescue supplies, it won't be the latest top-of-the-range stuff, but it'll be durable and able to cope with Grid black-spots. It'll fit with your story, and it isn't stuff kids normally touch. There's one thing. Getting value for value in barter is not easy. If it's from your era, and it works, you can name your own price. I'll equip your quest, but it'll be a fraction of the value. For the record, do you understand?"

"Are you recording this?"

"Yes. It's part of the security requirement. It's a sealed recording though and can only be viewed if an investigation starts. Normally that's stolen goods, or if face recognition triggers something. This bit should prove interesting. Can I have some I.D. please?"

"All I've got is my driving licence." Gene replied, handing over the card.

"It all ties in. The number plate is registered to you, and the gov database has your picture and no flags. Again, I have to accept your story." The shopkeeper studied the licence again, "I could get a good price for that as well."

"No. I may need it back home, but thanks. What now?"

"Let's figure what you need, and I'll place the orders on anything I don't have. This city of yours. It's not in the North is it?"

"I don't think so. The slaves go naked."

"That'll do. Standard built-in solar cells will do the trick. Modern ones have a life span of fifty years but if you keep it in a garage, you need to take it out once a month for a top up.

"That'll do."

"Will you be driving it much in my, er, OK, time zone? Will it be picked up by traffic surveillance?"

"I don't think so. I was turning into this street as I arrived."

"In that case, we'll go for heavy off-road use, low-end grid connections and a safari maintenance kit. I suggest a trailer. You might not need it, but why not. I'm still getting bids on your car and again, I'm obliged to warn you, I'm making a considerable profit on the transaction."

"Get what you can. As long as I get what I need, I'm happy."

"Good enough. Radios are easier than I expected. There's still a demand for private networks. I can do a base station, sixteen handsets and six relay beacons, for your laptop. Do you need a water purification plant?"

Gene guessed the shopkeeper was becoming intrigued by the idea of kitting out a safari trip to the distant past. He still might not believe it, but if nothing else it filled an otherwise slow day, and he calculated on getting a year's profit in just one afternoon. Goods ordered began arriving by drone, while an eager salesman arrived with a rugged looking off-road vehicle and trailer.

"Off grid trailers have fixed wheels. Are you sure you don't want a conventional one with guided steering?" He asked, "You'll need to practice reversing, I've got a how-to, so where's your link?"

"He's off grid." The shopkeeper replied, "It's a school project and maybe something more but it's got a turn of the century theme."

"That's one hell of an expensive school project. What's the something more?"

"Take a look at his car. You're the expert. How am I doing on a swap?"

"It depends on how the power supply was upgraded, but I get it."

"It's the original. Lithium-ion batteries, no less."

"Are you saying it's factory original and no upgrades. How come?"

"The boy claims to be a time traveller. I can't fault the evidence, so I'm obliged to accept it."

Gene stood listening, not involved in the negotiations. He watched fascinated as drones arrived, surprised at how big some loads were. He also assumed the shopkeeper was handling bids for Gene's trade-ins online. The whole setup was impressive as the shopkeeper indicated to Gene he should unpack the goods. He looked at a tent.

"I don't need all this." Gene said.

"No, but I do." The shopkeeper replied, "You've given me a story, and I'm obliged to go along with it. However, I need insurance. If I kit you out properly, it's evidence we stuck to the deal. An original laptop in working order will cover it all, and the rest is pure profit for me. The profit I'll make on your car means I could close for a year. Believe me, working to your script will save me hassle."

The car salesman nodded, "We deal in top of the range models, and your car would be beyond our means. What kid dumping stolen goods would be happy with a water purifier?"

Gene nodded, taking out his driver's licence.

"You may as well add this, if it helps," he said, "I can always say I lost it if I go home. Do you still have traffic cones?"

"Is that a genuine plastic licence? I've never seen one before. May I see it?"

The salesman took the offered card and studied it, "2D picture, personal details on display. Wow! No fingerprint or face recognition protection, either. Is the picture, your grandfather?"

Although Gene had not been able to imagine what his shopping trip would be like, the reality was different to anything he expected, as he replied, "No, it's me. I'm a time traveller."

"Yes, of course." The salesman turned to the shopkeeper, "Like you say, it's consistent. I must go. I'd love to see how this pans out, but I'll wait for a grid update."

"I have a slave, and he only wears an iron collar. I'd like to take the collar off and let him dress, but he'd refuse. I don't suppose you've got anything that'll make him feel special?"

The shopkeeper watched Gene drive off, then just stared in astonishment. Even before it reached the junction, the rig vanished. Gene detoured to his own home, and leaving the rig for neighbours to stare at, he left a note: Hi Mum, just to let you know I'm going on a trip. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but don't worry. I'll be fine. Love Gene. He checked the time. According to the clock only five minutes had passed since he had collected his car. Time travel was going to take some getting used to. Fetching his suit from his cupboard, he headed back to the rig. As he drove off and turned a corner, so he returned to the campsite to see Malcolm leap up from the chair looking worried. Gene picked up a bag beside him and got out.

"Why did you leap up like that?" he asked.

"Lazy slaves get punished, Master." Malcolm replied, "You are kind, and I could fall in love with you, so I don't want to abuse your kindness."

"OK! Back home, people play all sorts of weird and kinky games, and chains and collars are part of it. That's my thinking, and it's difficult to change. I guess it's just as difficult for you to change, So if you are my slave, we'll both have to try."

"Yes, Master."

"Seeing you naked, chained and helpless is sexy. I could take you whenever I wanted. Is that what you want?"

"Master. You don't have to chain me up to fuck me. I'm yours to use and with you, I'll enjoy it."

"And do slaves fuck their Masters?"

"That is what you call kinky, Master. Masters would never admit it but it does happen."

Gene took a collar out of the bag he was carrying. Where the collar Malcolm was wearing was a dull grey, this one shone with a silvery glint. Where Malcolm's collar was nearly three centimetres wide, the one Gene was holding was barely a half centimetre in diameter.

"It's made of chrome steel." Gene said, "If I fit it, only I will be able to take it off. I've got cuffs for your wrists and ankles and I've even got something for your cock. You've got three choices. Lose that collar and not belong to anyone, keep it and you'll be a slave like any other, wear this collar and be mine. You had your future planned and if you wear my collar, your life is going to be very different. It could be good, but I can't promise. Think about it, tell me what you want and whatever you decide, I'll help you."

Gene thought he had sounded pompous or melodramatic, but he was uncomfortable dealing with Malcolm, especially when Malcolm knelt then lowered his forehead to rest on Gene's feet. He sat back up.

"If I may still speak honestly, Master, then I'm tired of this conversation. You are going to stop people I care for from being taken by the pirates. Although I cannot do your magic, I can serve you for as long as want me but please, Master, shut up about it. Your slave is ready to be punished for his rudeness."

"You know I want you to speak honestly, so you're not rude."

"Then make me yours, Master. Do what you understand and let me do what I understand."

"Even if I think you deserve a whipping." Gene grinned.

"It is part of being a Master, but I don't think you would like it, so I must try even harder to avoid one."

"I like the logic." Gene laughed, "Let's sort your collar."

Gene was beginning to understand that unlike an ordinary torch that just generated light, his torch could manipulate it. He did not fully understand what it meant except he watched as the torch produced a beam of intense light, visible because droplets of water in the air turned into steam but then it focussed into a cone. Gene got the idea and applied the tip of the cone to the rivet holding the collar closed, but the light faded.

Yes, of course. The metal would melt and drip. Put a soaking wet towel over his chest.

"OK, Malcolm. Lay down on your back."

Gene fetched a wet towel and to Malcolm's amusement, straddled him and adjusted the collar, so the rivet was to one side of his neck. Telling Malcolm to look away, he arranged the towel around the rivet and tried the torch again. This time, the rivet-head simply melted, and the rest of the rivet fell to the ground.

"Stay!" Gene commanded as he clambered up and then stripped before straddling Malcolm again.

"Neither of us are wearing collars, so we're equals. Do you have any objection to fucking me?"

"Master, you're crushing your slave into the ground again. He has no choice but to obey. If we're equals, then just shut up and let's get on with it."

It still took an effort to rest his hands on his master's thighs without being ordered and then, daringly, stroke his cock, but Gene smiled, and felt his slave's manhood stiffening and probing. Gene guided it to his cherry.

The f irst time is supposed to hurt, but Gene was completely relaxed. Too many shocks and impossible situations had numbed him so that for a time, nothing could affect him. His body simply accepted another novel experience as he lowered himself onto Malcolm's solid pole. He felt Malcolm gently playing with his cock, and his body responded. It was too late to feel pain, but incredible sensations spread through his groin. His manhood leapt to an erection, and he shot. As he pumped, he squeezed around Malcolm who had his own pressures. From the terror of being attacked by pirates, to the fear of being stranded, he found himself owned by a boy who was not only kind but gentle and caring. It also helped they were both sixteen, so Malcolm responded just as quickly, bucking his hips and pumping into Gene.

It was over so quickly, Gene was a little disappointed.

"Sorry," he said, "It was so quick."

"Yes, it was, Master, but it felt good. Young masters are given experienced slaves to teach them, and I am experienced. Slaves should say the right things, but I do mean this: it felt fantastic with you."

Gene smiled his thanks as he rolled off Malcolm and lay on the grass beside him.

"Mum talks about making a good impression and first appearances are important," he began, "Arriving in the car will look good, but it will be even better if you drive."

"Drive a magic chariot. Surely that's for wizards like you."

"No. Back home there are chauffeurs. They drive, open the doors for their, er, masters, and you can follow me, carrying my bags."

"So I'll look like the slave of a powerful wizard." Malcolm replied, "But I don't have the magic to work your chariot."

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