This is the continuation of my previous The Witcher: Djinn storyline
The Witcher: Rare Beasts (TV-MA)
Fanfiction of Season 1 Episode 6 on Netflix
===========
Commentary
===========
This is the continuation of The Witcher: Djinn and pushes the characters into their storylines that end Season 1 and start Season 2. There were some sexy parts already but I felt there were a couple of unexplored opportunities.
There is a lot of backstory here, to ensure the reader understands the episode. If you have seen the episode already then you can go ahead and skip to ACT 3 and ACT 6 where I focus on the sexual subtext. But you might miss a few answers to what may have been missed between scenes if you do that. …enjoy ;)
ACT 1: An Adventure Begins
Geralt of Rivia, known as the Witcher, and his companion Jaskier found themselves in an unexpected and perilous situation. They had been hired by a mysterious man named Borch Three Jackdaws to join a team of hunters on a quest to slay a dragon. Borch had a reputation for being both enigmatic and resourceful, and he seemed to have a hidden agenda that intrigued Geralt.
Among the group of hunters were Téa and Véa, two Zerrikanian women who had served Borch and were skilled warriors. Zerrikanians were a noble Amazonian race of black warriors, known for their strength and combat prowess. The team also consisted of the Reavers, a band of ruthless mercenaries, a group of Dwarves led by Yarpin Zigrin, and the noble Sir Eyck of Denesile accompanied by his mage, Yennefer of Vengerberg.
Initially, Geralt had no interest in hunting the dragon, as he believed dragons should not be hunted for treasure and that a golden dragon was merely a mythical creature. However, as the teams gathered in a tavern, Geralt caught sight of Yennefer, a woman he had deeply cared for in the past. His feelings for her resurfaced, and he committed his sword to the quest, hoping to be closer to her once again.
Meanwhile, Jaskier finds himself captivated by the beauty of the Zerrikanian women, he musters the courage to flirt with them, “You have the most incredible necks. Like a…a… sexy goose.”
Albeit stumbling upon an awkward line about their necks, much to his surprise, the women are not put off by his clumsy comment. Instead, they respond with amusement and a hint of intrigue, showing a liking to Jaskier.
The Zerrikanian women, their eyes brimming with desire and a subtle playfulness, convey their interest in Jaskier through both words and non-verbal cues. They lean in closer, their bodies subtly mirroring his movements, the delicate brush of their fingers against his arm or the subtle tilt of their heads convey an intimate interest that goes beyond mere words.
Sharing a sip of beer with him, their eyes sparkling with mischief, the Zerrikanian women convey their interest in him. The connection between them becomes palpable, and Jaskier's confidence is reignited by their apparent attraction. Emboldened, he sees the potential for an enthralling tale of adventure and romance.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Jaskier declares his enthusiasm for the idea, his words laced with excitement. "I can hear it now, a tale of two Zerrikanians and their valiant poet lover. Oh! We are so doing this. We're in!"
The women's eyes meet, exchanging knowing glances that reveal their mutual interest in Jaskier and the prospect of a passionate union. Their attraction to both him and the idea of their union is clear, fueling Jaskier's confidence and igniting a spark of anticipation for the adventures that lie ahead.
ACT 2: A Quest Becomes a Competition
As the quest began, it became apparent that each team had its agenda and desired the dragon's treasures for themselves. Tensions arose, and conflicts frequently erupted among the hunters. The Reavers, being the most aggressive group, openly challenged the other teams, making it clear that they intended to claim the dragon's riches by any means necessary.
Geralt couldn't shake the feeling that Borch had ulterior motives for undertaking this mission. He suspected that Borch's claim of wanting one last adventure was just a cover for something more. Geralt voiced his concerns, arguing that hunting dragons for treasure was wrong and that a golden dragon was nothing more than a legend.
During the first night of camping, Sir Eyck fell mysteriously ill after consuming a cursed beast he had killed. The other hunters dismissed him as a fool for eating the creature, believing it had caused his illness. With Eyck making his departure early Geralt saw his chance to speak with Yennefer at last.
In the quiet stillness of the camp, Geralt confronts Yennefer, a mixture of concern and frustration etched upon his face. He takes a step closer to her, his voice tinged with both curiosity and suspicion.
"What are you doing here, Yennefer?" Geralt questions, his tone searching for the truth that lies behind her presence.
Yennefer meets his gaze, her eyes betraying a determination that matches his own. "I am here for the dragon," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of urgency. "There are certain healing powers that are rumored to exist. Powers that could bring about the change I seek."
Geralt shakes his head, a hint of disbelief coloring his response. "Yennefer, please don't tell me you traveled all this way for made-up fertility cures concocted from dragon hearts. You know better than to believe in such tales."
Yennefer's expression hardens a touch of defiance in her voice. "They are not made up," she asserts. "There is truth behind the legends, Geralt. And what do you know about motherhood? Have you ever considered what I might want? What I could be capable of?"
Geralt's response is swift, his words laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. "Yennefer, do you honestly think you would make a good mother? This lifestyle, the battles we face, the chaos we endure... it is not suited for a child. What would you do, between feeding and naps, summon chaos on the king's orders?"
Yennefer's eyes narrow, her voice cutting through the air with a hint of indignation. "Do not patronize me, Geralt. This is not about your judgment. It's about my choices, my desires, my life."
Geralt's gaze softens, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his defenses. "I'm not patronizing you, Yen. I've thought about this. Often. And I would rather use my Child Surprise as bruxa bait than subject them to the dangers and uncertainty of this life we lead."
Yennefer's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "What did you just say?" she questions, her eyes widening with newfound understanding.
Geralt's face pales, realization dawning upon him. "Ah, fuck," he mutters under his breath, his attempt at concealing the truth quickly unraveling.
"You have a Child Surprise?" Yennefer's laughter grows, a touch of irony coloring her voice. "Isn't that rich? Here you are, lecturing me on the supposed foolishness of seeking ways to have a child, while all along you cheated destiny itself to steal one."
Geralt's shoulders sag, the weight of his secret revealed. He meets Yennefer's gaze, his expression a mix of regret and vulnerability. She leaves him with his thoughts.
ACT 3: An Opportunity Worth Exploring
Under cover of darkness, Jaskier, the charismatic bard, tiptoed toward the small tent shared by the Zerrikanian women, Téa and Véa. The flickering glow of the nearby campfire provided him with just enough light to navigate his way without disturbing the slumbering warriors.
With a mischievous grin on his face, Jaskier carefully unfastened the tent flaps, ensuring that they made as little noise as possible. He entered the tent, his heart racing with anticipation. Inside, the air was filled with the scent of leather and the faint aroma of a smoldering campfire, a reminder of the women's Zerrikanian heritage.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Jaskier is greeted by a scene of alluring beauty and sensual intimacy. The warm glow of the flickering fire illuminates the space, casting a gentle radiance upon the two ebony women who are adorned solely in their thick fur pelt blankets. Téa and Véa, renowned for their beauty and prowess in battle, were a sight to behold even in repose.
Jaskier's hands, trembling with both nervousness and anticipation, find their way to Téa's feet. He caresses them gently, his touch gradually traveling up her legs, the softness of her skin enticing him further. Téa, awake and fully aware of his actions, purrs softly, encouraging his explorations.
As Téa pulls back the fur blanket, revealing her exquisite form, she lifts her knees, inviting Jaskier to explore further. The tantalizing scent of her skin fills the air, heightening his senses and drawing him closer. With each lingering kiss he places upon her thighs, a shiver of anticipation courses through her body, her breath hitching in response.
Jaskier's lips move with tender reverence, trailing a path of soft, lingering kisses up the supple expanse of Téa's thighs. The delicate touch of his lips against her skin ignites a wave of pleasure that radiates through her, causing her to arch her back ever so slightly. The sensation is both intimate and electrifying, as Jaskier's devotion and desire intertwine with every movement.
Téa's moans of delight fill the intimate space, encouraging Jaskier to continue his journey of exploration. Her body responds to his kisses, her skin tingling with each affectionate caress. Jaskier’s fingers part the engorged flesh of her labia to reveal a bright pink succulent flower dripping with nectar summoning him closer.
As Jaskier inhales the intoxicating scent of Téa, his senses become engulfed in a sweet and alluring fragrance that lingers in the air. The aroma entices him further, heightening his desire to explore her body and indulge in the pleasures that lie ahead.
With a gentle touch, Jaskier's fingers press into the supple wet flesh of Téa's body, sinking into her inch by inch and curling in a come hither motion against the puffy sensitive skin inside of her, just behind her pelvic bone, triggering her nerve endings to fire. His touch is both confident and gentle evoking shivers of anticipation that dance along her spine.
Téa's body responds to Jaskier's touch. Her breath quickens, matching the rhythm of their shared desire. Téa's breath catches in her throat as Jaskier's lips explore the intimate contours of her labia, as his mouth consumes her clitoris. Each gentle kiss is like a whisper of desire against her skin, setting her nerves ablaze with a delicious mix of anticipation and delight.
With each loving caress, Téa's body responds with a cascade of sensations. Electric pulses of pleasure surge through her, radiating from the place where his kisses meet her flesh. Her skin becomes hypersensitive, every nerve ending aflame with a tingling heat that spreads throughout her being.
The combination of Jaskier's tender touch and the intensity of the moment builds an exquisite tension within Téa. Her body arches instinctively, seeking closer contact and deeper connection. She loses herself in the sea of sensation, her mind consumed by the intoxicating pleasure that courses through her veins.
As Véa awakens to the intoxicating sounds of Téa's moans, she finds herself drawn into the passionate scene unfolding before her. Without hesitation, she leans in and captures Téa's lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths intertwining in a dance of desire.
Their kiss is a symphony of passion and exploration, their tongues entwining with a hunger that mirrors the rising heat within them. Véa's hands find their way to Téa's breasts, teasing and caressing them with a firm yet gentle touch.
As the passion between the trio reaches its crescendo, a surge of ecstasy courses through Téa's body, carrying her to the pinnacle of pleasure. Waves of intense sensation ripple through her, growing stronger and more overwhelming with each passing moment.
In a glorious climax, Téa succumbs to the overwhelming waves of pleasure that crashed over her. A crescendo of ecstasy engulfs her, causing her body to convulse with euphoric release. Her cries of delight fill the air, mingling with the symphony of their passionate union.
For a timeless moment, Téa is lost in a haze of pure bliss, her body vibrating with the aftershocks of her climax. It is a transcendental experience, where time, space, and awareness merge into a singular sensation of unparalleled pleasure.
Jaskier, his eyes filled with satisfaction, cannot help but revel in the sight of Téa's convulsions of pleasure. With a mischievous grin, chuckling to himself, he quips, "Ah, Téa, my dear, your trembling gives me an idea. I must remember to add 'Master of Quakes' to my ever-growing list of titles."
As Véa's hunger for Jaskier grows, she succumbs to her desires, pressing her lips against his with fervent intensity. Their kiss is a passionate collision of longing and craving, a declaration of their shared lust.
In her eagerness, Véa's hands move with urgency, swiftly tearing off Jaskier's shirt, and revealing his bare chest to her hungry gaze. She traces her fingers along the contours of his sculpted muscles, exploring the canvas of his skin with a mix of desire and admiration.
With nimble fingers, Véa deftly unbuckles Jaskier's belt, a subtle yet deliberate motion that symbolizes their mutual surrender to passion. The sound of the buckle clicking open echoes through the air, heightening the anticipation that hangs between them.
As the belt falls away, the barrier to their desires dissipates, opening a world of possibilities. Véa's touch becomes bolder, her fingertips grazing over his exposed skin, igniting a trail of electric sensation that courses through his body.
As a warrior with an unyielding hunger, Véa takes charge, guiding Jaskier toward the floor with a firm yet gentle touch. Her eyes, filled with desire, lock onto his, conveying a message of dominance and longing.
As she lays him down, Véa leans close, her voice a low and sultry whisper, "Tonight, I shall be your conqueror, and you, my willing captive." Her words, dripping with confidence and desire, ignite a primal fire within both of them.
With a smile of anticipation dancing upon his lips, Jaskier pulls Véa's hips closer to his face, reveling in the intimate connection between them. His eyes lock onto hers, conveying a silent understanding and a shared desire for mutual pleasure.
Positioned between her thighs, Jaskier's breath mingles with the warmth emanating from her core, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. His hands rest gently on her hips, his touch a testament to his reverence for her body and his eagerness to indulge in the delights that await.
As his lips inch closer to her, Jaskier's smile transforms into a mischievous grin, mirroring the spark of playful excitement in Véa's eyes. He finds pleasure in the intimacy of this act, embracing the chance to provide pleasure and succumb to his desires simultaneously.
With skillful movements, Jaskier begins to explore Véa's most sensitive areas, his lips, and tongue tracing a path of bliss along her flesh. His touch is both confident and gentle, a delicate balance that elicits gasps of pleasure and moans of delight. As Jaskier's ministrations continue, Véa's hips respond to his every touch, subtly moving in harmony with his rhythm.
As Téa's gaze falls upon Jaskier's rigid white cock, a hunger ignites within her, and her lips part in anticipation. The sight of his arousal stirs a primal desire within her, a craving that can only be satisfied by the intimate connection they are about to share.
Téa crawls toward Jaskier stalking his white meat like a jaguar hunting down its prey. With a gentle yet firm grip, she grabs his erect cock, her tongue glides from his balls up his veiny white shaft that seems to glow in the moonlight that beams through the narrow flap of the tent. Her full lips part, as they wrap around his cock with urgency. She sucks on his dick consuming the small salty bead of liquid oozing from its tip as if yearning for the last dew drops before the arid deserts of her homeland return. Her head desperately moved up and down his shaft, coating him with her spit, leaving ropes of saliva connecting them. Her slurping sounds heighten the electricity in the heated tent.
Téa’s vagina, swollen with arousal begs to be played with as her fingers descend between her thighs, moving quickly side by side, yearning for penetration. She pays homage to his wonderful white penis, tasting the saltiness of his potential release. As her anticipation increased, her sucking became stronger and her head moved faster in an unspoken urgency conveying an overwhelming need to feel him inside her.
Téa joins her friend atop Jaskier, her body eagerly straddling his hips, her hips finding their place above his now greased-up pole. As her knees collapse, she descends onto his long white lance. He enters her, filling her, making her moan instantly at the sensual pleasure she so desperately desires.
Her movements are slow and deliberate at first, savoring the exquisite feeling of him filling her, inch by inch. She relishes the delicious friction, the way he stretches and fills her, awakening every nerve ending in her body.
With each tantalizing thrust, Téa's hips roll in a rhythm that mirrors the rising waves of pleasure within her. Her beautiful ebony ass responds to the intimate connection, rapidly rocking and undulating with growing urgency. Her round butt cheeks slapped together, shaking, tightening the grip around Jaskiers pale cock.
As Téa finds her pace, her movements become more fervent, driven by an insatiable hunger that demands release. Her body moves in harmony with her friend, the ménage à trois creating a symphony of shared pleasure that reverberates through them.
The heat between them intensifies as their bodies move as one, their desires merging and intertwining in a dance of passion. Their connection deepens with each moan of delight, harmonizing in the air.
As Téa and Véa’s lips meet in a passionate kiss, they surrender to the overwhelming pleasure from the thrusts of Jaskier’s insatiable tongue and long stiff cock. Bucking against their waves of pleasure their tongues dance in a sensual tango, exploring the depths of each other's mouths with an ardent hunger.
Their hands roam freely, venturing along the curves and contours of their bodies. Fingers press fervently between their legs triggering the nerves of clitoral stimulation while their free hands glide over the soft contours of their partner's breasts. They tease and caress each other, igniting shivers of pleasure that ripple through their bodies.
Téa's hands find their way to Véa's breasts, her touch both gentle and firm. With a skillful touch, she cups her large teardrop breast and squeezes her large dark puffy nipples, relishing the weight and firmness of her friend's supple flesh. Their chests pressed against each other, the sensation of skin against skin fueling their growing arousal.
Véa reciprocates the gesture, her own hands finding and twisting the stiff aroused nipples of Téa's breasts. She explores the fullness and roundness, delighting in the way they fit perfectly in her grasp. Their nipples respond to the attention, hardening under the skilled touch of their lover's hands.
As Téa and Véa rock their hips together atop Jaskier, an intoxicating wave of pleasure surges through him. His senses become heightened, and his body reacts instinctively to the captivating sensations unfolding around him.
Jaskier's hands move with purpose, spreading Véa's butt cheeks apart, exposing the tender, intimate flesh beneath. This tongue takes short breaks to lick between her legs in long motions from her labia and her asshole. His touch is gentle yet possessive, as he presses his thumb into her ass guiding her hip movement from below eliciting gasps of pleasure from her trembling lips.
Jaskier's body becomes the instrument of their shared pleasure. Positioned beneath Véa, he eagerly flicks his tongue against her throbbing clitoris, her hips moving faster and faster as her climax nears. With each expert stroke, he elicits moans of ecstasy that reverberate through their entwined bodies.
Meanwhile, as Téa's hips bounce up and down on Jaskiers cock he thrusts into her causing her to yelp, forcing His cock deeper and deeper into her saturated cunt. Jaskier finds himself engulfed in a whirlwind of sensations. The rhythmic movements of her body intensify both the friction and the pleasure they share.
His senses are overwhelmed by the combined taste and scent of their arousal, as the women above him writhe with pleasure. Jaskier's desire is fueled by their unrestrained passion, each movement of their bodies driving him closer to the edge of his release.
As Véa reaches the peak of her pleasure, her body tenses and trembles in the throes of ecstasy. Her hips gyrate against Jaskier's skilled tongue, riding the waves of pleasure that cascade through her. With a sharp intake of breath, she releases a fervent cry of satisfaction, her body convulsing in a blissful release.
Jaskier savors the taste of Véa's essence, his tongue a magical tool of satisfaction that brings her to the pinnacle of pleasure. He delights in the way her body responds to his ministrations, relishing in the knowledge that he has brought her immense pleasure.
As Véa's climax subsides, she discounts Jaskier and lays next to the bard, panting at the unbelievable ride she just received.
Téa leans down, her lips finding Jaskier's lips consuming him in a passionate and hungry kiss. The taste of her friend lingers on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the shared ecstasy they have just experienced together. Their mouths meet in a fervent collision, tongues intertwining, as they share the remnants of their pleasure.
Téa's hips continue to rock ferociously against Jaskier, their bodies slapping in a primal rhythm. The intensity builds between them, their mutual desire pushing them closer to the edge of release.
With each thrust of Téa's hips, Jaskier's hand tightens around her waist, pulling her closer, and urging her to delve deeper into the intoxicating pleasure they share. The sensation of their bodies melding together becomes all-encompassing, every nerve ending alive with anticipation.
In a crescendo of pleasure, their bodies find release simultaneously, their cries of ecstasy merging into a harmonious symphony of satisfaction. Pleasure radiates through them, waves of bliss crashing over them as they reach the peak of their shared pleasure.
In this climactic moment, time seems to stand still, their bodies locked in a sublime union, their desires intertwined. Their connection becomes a testament to the depths of their passion and the profound bond they have forged through their exploration of pleasure.
As they recover from the intensity of their shared pleasure, the three of them find themselves intertwined in a comforting embrace, their bodies tangled together amidst the softness of fur pelts. The scene is a tableau of contrasting beauty, where ebony and pale skin intertwine in a testament to the diversity and allure of their union.
Jaskier, ever the poet and jester, finds himself at a loss for words momentarily. He gazes at the trio's embrace, a mixture of awe and humor dancing in his eyes. With a sly grin, he breaks the silence, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems ebony and ivory can make great sensual music with or without a piano!"
Téa, still basking in the afterglow of their shared pleasure, playfully pokes Jaskier's side, teasingly remarking, "Oh, Jaskier, always the wordsmith, even amid such intimacy. I suppose we should expect nothing less from the bard with a tongue as talented as yours."
As the moans of pleasure filled the night air, Geralt found himself consumed by a tumultuous mix of emotions, his thoughts dominated by the enigmatic sorceress Yennefer. There was an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that drew his attention towards her, overshadowing any other concerns that may have occupied his mind.
Was it jealousy that tugged at his heartstrings, ignited by the flirtatious relationship between Yennefer and Sir Eyck? The thought of her forming a connection with another man, even temporarily, sparked a twinge of possessiveness within Geralt. He couldn't deny the pang of unease that welled up within him, fueling his desire to be closer to her.
But perhaps, it was something deeper, something more profound than mere jealousy. Yennefer had a way of burrowing herself into Geralt's thoughts, her presence lingering in the recesses of his mind like an alluring spell. The complexity of their relationship, the push and pull, the shared history, and undeniable attraction—it all created a maelstrom of emotions that Geralt struggled to unravel.
ACT 4: The Smell of Defeat
As the Reaver leader, a hardened and merciless individual awakens to the grunting sounds of Sir Eyck, he can't help but feel a sense of disgust and disdain towards the nobleman. In his eyes, the nobles are born into privilege, their entitlement often blinding them to the realities faced by the common folk. The Reaver leader chuckles at the irony that the fool has brought his downfall by consuming meat from a cursed monster, a consequence of his reckless and headstrong nature.
Standing a short distance away, the Reaver watches with a mixture of disgust and mounting anger as the knight, Sir Eyck, still wearing parts of his soiled armor, hunches over near a bush. The pungent stench of his diarrhea fills the air, assaulting the senses of everyone in the vicinity. The Reaver leader's face contorts with revulsion, his features contending with the noxious odors assaulting his nostrils.
As Sir Eyck grunts and groans, attempting to relieve himself from the affliction that plagues him, the Reaver leader's patience wears thin. With a grim determination, the Reaver leader makes his way toward Sir Eyck, his steps purposeful and heavy. His eyes bear the weight of his fury as he approaches the knight, his voice tinged with a fit of cold, controlled anger.
“Well, well, look at what we have here. Sir Eyck, the nobleman, reduced to a whimpering mess,” said the Reaver.
Grunting in discomfort, Sir Eyck says, “You... you dare mock me, commoner? I am a nobleman, born into privilege. I answer to no one but the crown!”
As anger surges through the Reaver leader, he swiftly draws his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light of the camp. A broad smile of justice imprinted across his face.
Sir Eyck stumbles backward in a futile attempt to escape the impending confrontation. He falls backwards landing him in a repulsive pile of his diarrhea. “No... what do you want? Money! I am a nobleman... I have money!”
The Reaver leader's disgust is only heightened by the sight before him, but it does not deter his determination. With a swift motion, the Reaver leader's sword lunges forward, striking true. Sir Eyck, weakened by his cursed affliction and overwhelmed by his own bodily mess, proves no match for the merciless Reaver leader.
The Reaver leader lunged forward, his sword held high, his intent clear. Despite Sir Eyck's pleas and feeble attempts to defend himself, the Reaver leader is driven by his disdain for the nobleman's entitled demeanor and his desire to dismantle the oppressive system that has caused so much suffering. As Sir Eyck's body crumples to the ground, the Reaver leader stands over him, a triumphant yet somber figure. The nobleman lies defeated, his arrogance shattered, and his privileged life extinguished.
He gathers his group of hunters and they depart before the rest of the camp awakes. Damn, the rest of these fools. He was determined to take all treasure and glory of defeating the dragon for himself.
ACT 5: Death Comes for Us All
In the morning, the team discovered Sir Eyck's lifeless body laying in a puddle of his own shit. The teams knew that the Reavers, who had left camp early, were responsible for his death. The team, now aware of the Reavers' treachery, follows the dwarves' lead as they embark on a harrowing shortcut through unstable canyons and along a narrow trail against the windy mountainside towards the dragon's lair.
The narrow canyons stretch upward, their walls towering above, casting long shadows over the adventurers. As they navigate the rugged landscape, loose rocks dislodge from the steep cliffs, tumbling down perilously close to the group. The air is filled with the sound of echoing clatters and the distant rumble of rocks crashing against each other.
As the path opens up to the mountain's cliff face the team observes the treacherous section before them suspended over a sheer cliff. The precarious pathway clinging to the sheer mountainside with only thin rotting boards supported by metal stakes hammered into the granite cliff-faced wall. Beneath them, the depth below was shrouded in mist, concealing the true extent of the precipice.
As they proceed, the air is thick with tension, and the creaking planks beneath their weight serve as a constant reminder of the danger they face. The dwarves, being lighter and more nimble, deftly maneuver across the path, seemingly unfazed by the treacherous conditions. Their steps are confident and assured, making the daunting journey appear almost effortless.
Jaskier, on the other hand, is a bundle of nerves, his eyes wide with fear and his laughter a nervous release of tension. He mutters comical remarks about the absurdity of crossing such a precarious path, his voice wavering with a mixture of unease and lightheartedness.
Geralt, aware of the urgency and the risks involved, pushes Jaskier and Yennefer forward. He urges them to keep moving, knowing that time is of the essence and that they must reach the dragon's lair before the Reavers do.
As the group continues their cautious progress, a moment of tension grips them all. The sound of cracking wood pierces the air, and everyone freezes in their tracks. A plank beneath Borch and the Zerrikanians splinters and gives way, causing them to lose their footing. Their eyes widen with alarm as they desperately grasp for support, but it proves futile.
In a swift and selfless act, Geralt's reflexes kick in, and he lunges forward, managing to grab Borch's arm. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, a mixture of gratitude and resignation passing between them. Borch's voice carries a hint of finality as he utters, "Thank you, for being a noble leader."
But as fate would have it, the wood beneath Geralt's own feet cracks, the sound echoing through the canyon. The realization hits Geralt that by saving Borch, he will jeopardize his safety and the lives of the rest of the group. The weight of their impending doom hangs heavy in the air.
In a heartbreaking decision, Borch releases his grip on Geralt, accepting his fate, and willingly plunges into the abyss below. As he disappears into the endless mist, his sacrifice lingers in the hearts of those who witnessed it, a reminder of the selflessness and courage that can be found even in the face of certain death.
The group is left stunned and somber, the loss of their companion weighing heavily upon them. But they know they must continue, fueled by a mix of determination and grief, as they push forward in their quest to confront the dragon and uncover the truth that lies within its lair.
ACT 6: Seeking What You Desire
Shaken by the loss of Borch, Geralt contemplated whether they should continue without him. Sitting at the edge of the cliff, he found solace in Jaskier's comforting words. The bard reminded Geralt that life is short and that they should pursue what they truly desired, not just material treasures. Jaskier suggested a vacation after this ordeal, but Geralt realized that what he desired was already here. He had wasted too much time apart from Yennefer due to his fear of commitment.
With newfound determination, Geralt sought out Yennefer, entering her modest-looking tent. As he stepped inside we were surprised by the comforts offered by the magically spacious room with elegant tufted furnishings, dressers, a vanity, and a large comfortable bed. Yennefer was in her nightgown in the midst of adding perfume when Geralt entered.
With a hint of disbelief, Geralt's voice broke the silence, his words tinged with a mixture of awe and admiration. "So simple," he whispered, his gaze fixed upon Yennefer, his heart pounding with a blend of trepidation and longing.
Yennefer, meeting his gaze with a smoldering intensity, could not suppress a hint of a smile. "You like it?" she asked, her voice a breathy invitation, her desires mirrored in her eyes.
Geralt, his eyes locked on her, drank in her presence. The candle-lit glow danced along the curves of the satin gown emphasizing every curve of her full bosom, her stiff nipples piercing the fabric, and her wide sensual hips. His gaze filled with longing. A mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirled within him as he replied, "I came for you."
In response, Yennefer leaned in, capturing Geralt's lips in a passionate kiss. It was a moment of surrender, a culmination of their shared desires and the yearning that had haunted them both. Their lips melded together, igniting a fire that had burned within them for what felt like an eternity. The outside world seemed to fade away as they reveled in the sweetness of their union, lost in the depth of their shared affection.
Yennefer, breaking the kiss, held Geralt's gaze, her voice a mere whisper as she spoke. "I was afraid the mountain would take you from me, but now I fear it took your senses instead."
Geralt, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and determination, responded, "Only my nonsense."
A flicker of amusement danced in Yennefer's eyes as she gazed at him, a soft smile playing upon her lips. "I quite like your nonsense," she admitted, her voice laced with affection and a touch of mischief.
Geralt's hands caressed Yennefer's cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His lips kissed her as his thumb gently grazed her neck. He gave Yennefer a series of gentle kisses along her neck before inhaling deeply and whispering in her ear, “Hmm…that scent…The moment I dread most every time you leave… and it’s when it fades when you're really gone”
Yennefer saw in the stoic Witcher something she hadn’t before. True regret. Regret that he left her. Regret that each time they reconnected he let her go. Her heart fluttered for just a moment, “You left first, in Rinde. I woke up in that destroyed house and you were gone.” As she suddenly remembered that feeling of hope fading when she awoke without him.
“Forgive me,” he said, realizing that he hurt the one person he truly loved because the mighty Witcher was afraid. Afraid of the possibilities their union could become.
She shuddered as his hand glided down her back to the bow that held her nightgown up and slowly untied it. Yennefer’s nightgown cascaded to the floor, revealing naked form for Geralt's hungry eyes.
With a gentle touch, Geralt's thumbs traced the contours of Yennefer's breasts, his touch both tender and filled with desire. He explored the softness of her skin, his thumbs grazing the peaks of her femininity, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure from her lips.
The air in the tent crackled with anticipation as their connection deepened, their bodies drawn inexorably closer. They were two souls bound by an undeniable attraction, their desires merging and igniting a fire that burned with an intensity only they could understand.
Yennefer, her voice a mere whisper, spoke his name with a mixture of longing and surrender. "Geralt," she breathed, her eyes locked with his, conveying a silent invitation for him to explore her further.
Feeling the weight of her desires, Geralt leaned in, his lips claiming hers once more in a passionate kiss. As their mouths parted and their tongues glided along each other passionately.
As the passion between Geralt and Yennefer continued to ignite, their desire for each other grew stronger. With an eagerness mirrored in her eyes, Yennefer reached out, her fingers deftly unbuttoning Geralt's shirt, revealing the sculpted and scarred contours of his chest.
Her touch, fueled by longing, traced the planes of his bare skin, her fingertips leaving a trail of warmth and anticipation in their wake. The soft fabric of Geralt's shirt slipped from his shoulders, pooling at his feet, discarded in their shared pursuit of pleasure.
ACT 7: Unraveled with desire
Yennefer's gaze met Geralt's, a silent affirmation of her desire. Her hands moved with purpose, deftly undoing his belt, loosening the confines that held his trousers in place. As the belt fell away, his pants dropped revealing the strength of his desires. Their eyes remained locked, as her small hands gripped his long thick familiar cock. She bit her bottom lip. “I can’t get over how blessed you are, Witcher,” as her hands moved back and forth on his massive tool, unable to touch her fingers around it.
Geralt, his breath catching in his chest, felt a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins. The touch of Yennefer's hands upon him sent a jolt of electricity through his body, heightening the intensity of their connection. “Please, allow me to bless you with my presence.”
In this intimate moment, they stood on the precipice of surrender, their desires merging and intertwining. As Yennefer continued her exploration of his thick manhood, her fingers tracing the contours of his large hairy white balls, searching for the seed that she so desperately wanted churning for her.
The Witcher's head descended on her breast. His teeth raked against her sensitive nipples, gently biting and pulling them before suckling on them causing her to moan. His hand reached down between her silky damp thighs to her cunt and his fingers traced the engorged opening between her legs. He grinned to find her wet with arousal before plunging his meaty fingers into her again and again.
“Mmm, oh yes Geralt! I love your fingers! I love your cock!” She moaned.
With a surge of strength and desire, Geralt lifted Yennefer, spreading apart her butt cheek as his large palms gripped her large round ass cheeks, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Her vagina rubbed along his thick veiny shaft. The air crackled with anticipation as he carried her with unwavering determination, navigating the tent with grace.
Yennefer, her heart racing with excitement, held onto Geralt tightly, feeling the power in his arms as he effortlessly carried her toward the bed. The world around them faded into insignificance, the only reality that mattered was the fiery connection they shared.
As Geralt gently laid Yennefer down on the bed. Her knees spread apart, their eyes met, a silent affirmation of their shared passion. Their bodies yearned to be entwined, to explore the depths of pleasure in each other's embrace.
With a hunger that burned within him, Geralt's hips moved back and forth, and his cock slid up and down her vagina, lubricating the underside of his meat as their hips undulated in synchronicity. The heat of their desires mingled, igniting a flame that could not be extinguished.
He leaned into her, and their lips met in a passionate kiss, sealing their connection. The weight of the world fell away as they explored the contours of each other's bodies, their hands tracing every curve and crevice, leaving a trail of sensation in their wake. With every touch and every whisper, they reminded each other of the profound connection they shared,
Yennefer, her voice a sultry invitation, spoke with a mix of yearning and surrender. "Fuck me, Geralt," she breathed, her words laced with a primal desire. "Claim me as you did before. Show me what I have been missing."
Her plea echoed in the air, fueling the fire that burned within Geralt's being. He rose holding her knees open, his body, large and powerful, pressed into hers. The stiff head of his penis moved up and down clearing away the engorged lips of her labia before pressing inch by inch into her glistening pussy. The weight of his presence enveloped her, igniting a symphony of sensations that pulsed through her body.
Yennefer gasped as she felt Geralt's thickness, her body instinctively adjusting to accommodate his girth. “Oh, Geralt, you're soooo big,” she says. The sensation of him filling her sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, overwhelming her senses with a mixture of delight and intensity.
As he moved within her, Yennefer could feel the exquisite friction and pressure that his girth provided, stimulating her in ways that she hadn’t felt in years, a feeling she yearned for. As he buried himself into her he held himself in her feeling her muscles quake around him, igniting a symphony of pleasure. Then with slow long strokes, he thrust into her and prepared in a dance of pleasure.
“Oh fuck, Geralt! I have wanted to feel you again for so long!” Yennefer yells, lost in the blissful feeling, "I've yearned for your dominance, Geralt. To surrender myself to your control and let you unleash the depths of my desires."
The sensation of Geralt's thickness stretching her, the feeling of him pressing against her walls, stirred a primal desire within Yennefer. Her body responded with an electric fervor, reveling in the intense pleasure that their union brought.
Geralt smiles as he stares down at her watching her writhe at this every thrust, "Yennefer, you are mine to control, to pleasure, and to satisfy. No one has captured my desires like you have, and I will do whatever it takes to fulfill your every need."
With each rhythmic movement, Yennefer's senses become heightened. She could feel every ridge, every contour, as Geralt's thickness brought her to the brink of ecstasy, pushing her towards realms of pleasure she had only dreamed of.
The intensity sent shockwaves of pleasure cascading through Yennefer's body. It overwhelmed her with pleasure and desire that left her gasping for more. Yennefer's walls clenched around him, aching to hold onto every inch of him.
In an intimate act of possession, Geralt moved faster and unleashed the full force of his desire. His movements were purposeful, driven by an unwavering determination to claim Yennefer as his own. Has their wet skin slapped together, Geralt grunted, “I am going to make you cum so hard you will explode!”
“Oh yes! Oh fuck yes! You feel so good!” She screams.
The room filled with the sounds of their pleasure, a passionate symphony that echoed through the space. They moved with a rhythm that spoke of their intimate familiarity, an unspoken language of longing and satisfaction.
Yennefer's desire surged, aching for the fulfillment only Geralt could provide. The anticipation that had built between them since they reunited now reached its pinnacle. With a fierce urgency, Yennefer's pleasure soared, rising to a crescendo that threatened to consume her. Her body quivered with anticipation, yearning for the sensation of Geralt's girth that she had craved since they laid eyes on each other again.
"Yes, yes! Just like that, Geralt! You know exactly how to make me lose control!" She screams.
In a burst of ecstasy, Yennefer reached her climax, waves of pleasure crashing over her in an unstoppable torrent. Her moans of satisfaction filled the air, a testament to the profound release she experienced in the arms of the man she loved.
Geralt, attuned to her desires, continued to move with unwavering determination, matching the intensity of her pleasure with his own. With each additional thrust, her convulsion reignited as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. She reveled in the fulfillment of her deepest desires, knowing that Geralt was the only one who could ignite such a profound release within her.
As Yennefer convulsed in the throes of passion, her ecstasy reverberated through the stillness of the night, her screams of pleasure an expression of the profound delight that consumed her. The air was charged with the electricity of their union, as Geralt, caught in the rapture of their shared desires, guided her towards additional heights of her pleasure.
With a voice husky with longing, Geralt's words pierced the air. "Roll over," he commanded, his voice a command filled with both tenderness and a primal hunger. He wanted to show new depths of pleasure to Yennefer, to heighten their connection and ignite a fire that burned even brighter.
In response to his instruction, Yennefer capitulated, her body responding eagerly to his touch, each nerve tingling sensitively to each touch, each breath against her skin that caused the hairs on her flesh to stand on end. Gerald pushed a pillow beneath her hips, lifting her butt slightly, creating a tantalizing angle that promised a heightened level of sensation.
Geralt positioned himself behind her, his legs straddling hers, his hands firmly gripping her waist as he entered her with a slow, deliberate thrust. In this new position, her legs pressed together he felt thicker than ever. The air filled with a symphony of their shared pleasure, as their bodies moved in sync.
Yennefer squeals in a broken voice between words and incoherent grunts of pleasure, "Oh fuck! I relish the feeling of your firm grip, the way you take charge of me. You own me like no one else can."
Yennefer's moans filled the air, mingling with the sounds of their bodies slapping together, her ass shaking with each powerful thrust sending shockwaves through her core. The pillow beneath her hips allowed for a deeper connection, amplifying the sensations that coursed through her body. His girth slipped in and out of her, spreading her apart and then leaving her vacant yearning for more with each powerful thrust into her.
In this intimate act of surrender, Geralt and Yennefer found themselves lost in a realm of unparalleled pleasure.
Between each thrust, Geralt speaks, "I crave the power to own you,” his fat shaft pounds into her as she screams.
“To explore and bury myself in your depths,” she yelps as he thrusts into her deeper yet again.
“To make you shudder beneath my power.” As he goes in and out he can hear her breath shudder, begging for more.
“Your submission is what I dream of,” as Yennefer groans in pleasure begging for more.
“I dedicate myself to pleasing you,” with a massive thrust, her body lunged forward, his cock slamming into her cervix causing her to yelp, ”and I will cherish and honor every gasp of pleasure you give me!"
The night air carried the symphony of their desires, their bodies entwined in a dance of unyielding passion. Each movement, each gasp, each cry of pleasure brought her closer to the pinnacle of their shared release.
With command, Geralt tells Yen, "I yearn to unravel your deepest desires, to uncover the secrets of your pleasure. I want you to beg for it! Beg for your release, and then I'll grant it with a fervor unmatched."
As Geralt's quick thrusts hit all the right spots, Yennefer's body responds with pulsating waves of pleasure. Each thrust brings her closer to the edge, amplifying the sensations that course through her.
“Oh gods, Geralt, oh gods, please fuck me! Please make me cum!” she begs him with a panting breath.
The overwhelming pleasure of Geralt's rapid thrusts leaves Yennefer unable to contain her delight. Her moans and gasps escape her lips involuntarily, a testament to the ecstasy that engulfs her.
Yennefer's muscles respond to the rapid rhythm of Geralt's thrusts, contracting with increasing intensity. The sensations of tightness and release contribute to her pleasure, heightening her climax.
"Oh fuck! Yes! Geralt, you have the power to unravel me. I…I feel my body about to explode! Oh gods, yes! I'm unraveling in your arms!"
As Geralt takes control, pistoning in and out of her in rapid succession, Yennefers fingers grip the fabric of the bed, her toes curl and her face buries her screams into the comforter. As Geralt drives her towards an intense whole-body climax, Yennefer surrenders herself fully to the pleasure. With each rapid thrust, Yennefer's pleasure multiplies and spills over, washing over her in a cascading torrent. The successive waves of ecstasy leave her breathless, her body trembling with the force of her release.
Geralt's rigid shaft pulls out of her, he lifts her hips, bending her knees beneath her so he can watch as her liquids squirt out in a gushing waterfall, a wondrous display of her satisfaction. Her vagina pulsated open and closed as it dripped the remnants of her orgasm. Her body continued to shake and writhe as if possessed. He looks over his conquest, her submission is both complete and exquisite.
“Good, girl. You did just what I said you would,” said Geralt, as he playfully smacks her ass letting the sting of his handprint pull her back to the present.
ACT 8: Please Don’t Leave Me Again
Yennefer looks back, seeing Geralt’s flesh still rigid, needing to satisfy him and claim him as hers. As her body and breath recovers, the heat of their passion intensified, Yennefer's breathless voice cut through the air, her words a seductive command that fueled Geralt's desire. "Take me! Show me what else I have been missing. Show me what I need. Show me what it takes to satisfy you," she whispered, her voice dripping with a potent blend of longing and surrender.
Her body glistening with a sheen of sweat, Yennefer arched her back, teasing him with a playful wiggle of her ass. Her butthole, still pulsing open and closed from the after quakes of her intense orgasm, winks at the Witcher. Every movement was an invitation, a sensual dance that ignited the fire of desire within both of them.
Geralt, his desire reaching a fever pitch, couldn't resist the allure of Yennefer's invitation. The sight of her damp skin and the promise of penetrating her untamed pleasures stirred a primal hunger within him. He moved closer, captivated by her allure.
With a mix of tenderness and unbridled passion, Geralt seized the moment, his hands firmly gripping Yennefer's hips. With a flick of his wrist, he summons an Aard sign that coated his thick cock in a sensual thick heated oil. He positions his body so their bodies are aligned, their connection becoming more intimate, as he enters her slowly and purposeful.
“Oh gods Geralt! Last time you only used your fingers! Oh, oh, I don't know if I can take you! You're too big!” she screams as the head of his manhood pushes into her puckered hole spreading her open centimeter by centimeter. Her muscles quiver with fear and acceptance. Yennefer's gasps of pleasure echoed through the room, her body responding eagerly to Geralt's commanding presence. Her hands instinctively grabbed onto her large round butt cheeks and she pulled them apart, spreading herself open, helping Geralt enter her.
As Geralt pressed into Yennefer's ass, his desire mingled with the raw intensity of their connection. Her body arched in response, a natural reaction to the delicious friction that coursed through them. Their shared pleasure reached new heights as she succumbed to the intoxicating sensations that consumed her.
Geralt's movements grew more powerful and primal, a testament to the strength of his desire for Yennefer. The bulbous head of his manhood popped past her muscular barrier, finding her soft inner core welcoming him. Her sphincter gripped tightly around his mushroom tip begging him not to leave as she yielded to the primal pleasures of her anus that radiated to her core.
His hands found purchase on her hips, guiding his girth deeper and deeper into her tight hole. Every few seconds he stopped to help her adjust but as she bucked into him he knew she was ready for more. The synchrony of their bodies created a symphony of pleasure that echoed in the confines of the room.
As Geralt began his long deep thrusts, Yennefer could feel the muscles of her anus clenching and gripping him in response to the intense pleasure they were experiencing. The rhythmic contractions of her muscles created exquisite friction, enhancing the sensations they shared.
Geralt grunted like a beast, “Fuck Yen, you are so wonderful tight!”
With each movement, Yennefer's body instinctively responded, tightening around him, as if to draw him deeper and intensify their connection. The sensation of her muscles gripping him added an extra layer of pleasure, heightening their mutual arousal.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she panted, “Gods, what are you doing to me Geralt! I’ve never wanted to be fucked in my ass so badly in all my life!”
Geralt, attuned to the subtle signals of her body, felt the grip of Yennefer's muscles around him, amplifying his pleasure and driving him further toward the pinnacle of their shared release. The sensation of being enveloped by her tightness only fueled his ardor and pushed him to give her more.
Yennefer, lost in the throes of passion, reveled in the overwhelming sensations that pulsed through her. Every push and pull of their bodies brought her closer to the edge of ecstasy, her arching from the unrelenting pleasure that coursed through her veins. With each thrust, each arch of Yennefer's body, they danced on the edge of fulfillment.
As Yennefer's pleasure reached its peak, her body trembling with the intensity of her release, she couldn't contain the words that spilled from her lips. Gasping for breath, she expressed her delight to Geralt, her voice a husky plea.
"Fuck Geralt! I am yours! Oh yes, oh yes! You have staked your claim over me," she moaned, her voice filled with desire and adoration. "You bring me to the heights of ecstasy! I crave your release." And with that, her body collapses onto the bed as she screams again at the increasingly more frequent orgasms washing over her.
Her words, a fervent invitation for him to join her in this climax of pleasure, hung in the air, charged with the weight of their shared desires. Yennefer's body continued to quiver with the aftershocks of her ecstasy, her yearning for Geralt's release palpable.
“Oh Gods, Geralt! I didn’t know cumming from anal sex was possible,” her breath bated as Yennefer slowly came down from her climax. “Geralt, it was such pain and yet unimaginable amazing pleasure.”
The Witcher, his cock still ridged with intent, withdraws from her asshole. A bright red ring rims the outside of her convulsing asshole as it tries to return to its original form. Her hole is gaping open into a dark lovely abyss.
“This will help you Yennefer,” Geralt says. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Geralt, I am your sex toy. I belong to only you!” She says, both begging for his touch and wanting him to do his will to her knowing that the only way to keep him is to surrender to his every desire.
Using a unique Aard Sign, Geralt uses his Witcher magic to summon a mesmerizing object into existence—an pulsating cone-shaped ice rod made of tightly bound air and ice crystals. Its smooth, icy surface glistened with a magical aura, radiating a palpable chill that filled the air around them.
With a flick of his wrist, Geralt positioned the ice rod near Yennefer’s asshole, its presence sending shivers of anticipation down their spines. The pulsating waves of coldness and the alluring energy emanating from the rod ignited a surge of desire within both of them.
As Yennefer's eyes locked onto the mesmerizing ice rod, she felt an irresistible pull, a magnetic attraction to the otherworldly object. The sight of it aroused a sense of curiosity and longing, intertwining with her passionate desires.
With a mischievous smile, Geralt took hold of the ice rod, his fingers tingling at its icy touch. As he brought it closer to Yennefer's trembling asshole, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her lips.
"Oh, gods, it feels so soothing, so cooling," she whispered, her voice laced with a potent mixture of longing and surrender.
With Yennefer's permission, Geralt guided the icy rod in the space he left vacant in her gaping asshole. With deliberate care, he guided the cold pulsating rod into her. The cone, thicker than Geralt's girth, pressed against her burning muscular ring, cooling her but also stretching her open.
“Ohhhh, fuck! Fill me completely,” she howls as the icy tool slides deeper and deeper until the edge of the cone passes her muscular sphincter that grips it into place leaving her with the exhilarating sensation of icy pleasure. It immediately eased her burning and filled her. “Oh fuck, Geralt! Oh Gods, it’s larger than you!”
“You like it, don't you?” he said.
“Oh yes, oh gods yes! I want to feel you fill me! Stretch me! Make it so I won’t ever forget you again!” She begged…but then she had a wicked idea of her own, “But first, let me conjure you a gift for you to use too!”
As Yennefer's desires continued to surge, she tapped into her magical prowess, summoning two burning humming metal rings bound together, its vibrations promising an added layer of pleasure. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Yennefer presented the object to Geralt, "Wear the rings, let its vibrations enhance our connection."
As he donned the humming metal rings on his long thick cock and around his large sagging balls, he could feel them tighten around him as the gentle vibrations coursed through his core, a tantalizing preview of the sensations to come. The metal shrunk down adding pressure around his flesh, the heat building into a sensual burn.
With the objects in play, Geralt resumed his intimate connection with Yennefer. The icy rod, now nestled deep in her ass, brought a thrilling coolness that heightened their pleasure, while the humming ring increased the stiffness of his erection and added an intoxicating vibration to their intimate connection.
Geralt watched as Yennefers wetness leaked from her welcoming pussy, dripping with a desire to be filled. As Geralt lifted his massive flesh tool he could see her cunt pulsating with desire, preparing for his assault.
“Fuck Geralt, I need you! Oh please Fuck me! Fuck me!” She begged.
He pressed into Yennefer, this time his rigid tool seemed larger than before, rigid as a club as it stretched her open. Her stretched body tightly gripped his presence, stretching to accommodate his stone-like girth. The sensation was intense, a combination of pleasure and a slight hint of exquisite discomfort.
In combination with the large ice phallus in her ass, Yennefer gasped as she felt herself being filled to the brim, her body adjusting to the stretch, embracing the sensation with a mix of pleasure and longing. Her walls clenched around Geralt, trying to hold him tightly, to keep him as close as possible, as they embarked on this journey of heightened pleasure.
Inch by inch her insides quivered as it yielded to his immense power. His thick bulbous head triggered nerve ending after nerve ending in its wake. Yennefers head, thrown back, howling in unimaginable pleasure. Every movement, every push, and pull, radiated through her, making her body quiver with both pleasure and a delicious ache. Once fully inside, the humming ring vibrating against Yennefer's clitoris sent shockwaves of pleasure to her curling fingers and toes, ratcheting her up to her next orgasm.
For Geralt, the radiating burn of the metal ring combined with the icy chill from Yennefer's butt plug created a fire and ice dichotomy that caused his penis to twitch in the excitement that ignited a pleasure sensation he never knew existed. Waves of pleasure crashed over him as they both cried out in ecstatic delight.
With each vibration of the ring, Yennefer's nerves were set ablaze, sending electric jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. Her senses were heightened, every touch and movement intensified by the rhythmic hum that resonated within her.
As Geralt continued his long, powerful thrusts, the thin membrane that separated him from the icy rod heightened the sensations that coursed through both him and Yennefer. With each thrust, Geralt could feel the presence of the icy rod, the coldness of its touch magnifying the intensity of his pleasure. The thin membrane served as a barrier between them, a conduit for the electrifying sensations that surged between his body and Yennefer's.
As their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, the icy rod became a source of both pleasure and torment. Geralt's movements, fueled by his desire and the overwhelming sensations, created a friction that sent shivers of pleasure down his spine, each thrust connecting him to the icy coldness that lay just beyond his reach.
The icy chill of the rod, continued to plunge deeper and deeper with every strong thrust Geralt plowed into her, creating a sensory overload that took Yennefer to the edge of pleasure and pushed her beyond. Screams of passion escaped Yennefer's lips as the vibrating heat and icy chill collided within her, their contrasting sensations driving her to the brink of ecstasy. The vibrations of the ring triggered every nerve ending, sending her into a state of blissful convulsions that seemed to know no end.
Her body quivered and trembled, responding to the symphony of pleasure that resonated within her. The waves of convulsions surged through her like a tempestuous storm, leaving her breathless and lost in a realm of unparalleled ecstasy. Her body convulsed with the intensity of the sensations, unable to resist the overwhelming waves of pleasure that washed over her.
The convulsions of pleasure that rippled through Yennefer's body were met with a simultaneous response from Geralt as he reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensed, and his release surged forth, filling Yennefer completely. The heat of his release washed over her, triggering a final, intense convulsion that rippled through her body.
With a primal howl of satisfaction, Geralt unleashed his essence in a strong jet of cum that coated the inner walls of Yennefer's vagina, followed by a series of repeated gushing spurts to ensure she was filled completely, claimed as his.
Yennefer's body responded to Geralt's release with an intense convulsion, a powerful climax that rocked her to her core, opening the doors to her cervix to welcome in his seed. The waves of pleasure surged through her, intensifying the grip of her muscles around him, as her own ecstasy merged with his.
Their bodies trembled and shook in unison, both lost in the throes of their shared release. The final convulsion from Yennefer, triggered by the heat of Geralt's release, marked the culmination of their passionate union.
In that moment of blissful surrender, they were consumed by the intensity of their desires, their bodies intertwined and hearts beating as one. Their breathing slowed, and a sense of deep contentment settled upon them, a blissful silence enveloping the room. Geralt and Yennefer stared at each other and just talked, basking in the hope that love would finally endure. As the night waned their eyes closed.
ACT 9: The Race for Treasure
Yennefers eyes fluttered open as the light from the morning sun radiated against the fabric tent walls creating a yellowish-glowing hue. The after-effects of her pleasure still echoed in her mind, her body trembled with satisfaction. As she rolled over, expecting the man she loved to be gone as he was so many countless other times, she smiled seeing him fully awake, a wide grin smeared across his face, his piercing yellow eyes staring at her as he lay next to her content with being here, present, with her.
As they exited the tent together, they found that the dwarves had already set off for the dragon's den. Yennefer panicked at their departure, revealing that she needed the dragon's heart to reclaim her fertility, a deeply personal and important desire. Before Geralt could grab his weapons, she raced towards the den.
Seeing the dwarves less than a hundred yards from the den she knew the only way to claim the heart was to get to the dragon first before the hunting groups killed it. Reciting a spell, she summoned chaos to temporarily freeze the dwarves with her powerful magic.
But once she arrived she discovered that the green dragon was already dead and more importantly was guarding a rare dragon egg. And protecting them both stood a majestic golden dragon and the two Zarrkanian women who they had bought fell to their deaths last night. At that moment the Gold Dragon spoke, resonating with Borch's voice, it told her that protecting the offspring was now its most important task.
Yennefer realized that the entire quest had been a ruse orchestrated by Borch to gather all the hunters who dared to kill his new offspring. She understood Borch's need to protect his baby, as she felt the same way about her desires for babies.
At that moment, the Reavers arrived, and an epic battle ensued. The golden dragon, Yennefer, and the Zerrikanian women fought fiercely and bravely against the Reavers but they were heavily outnumbered. Geralt, driven by love and a sense of purpose, joined in turning the tide of the battle from almost lost to won to save the golden dragon from its attackers.
Amid the chaos, Geralt and Yennefer fought side by side, their movements graceful and coordinated as if they were destined for a greater purpose. Together, they emerged victorious, protecting the golden dragon and the precious dragon egg. The quest had brought them closer together, not only as partners in battle but also as deeply connected souls.
Geralt and Yennefer realized that their love and shared experiences were worth more than any material riches. Hand in hand, they couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turns that had led him to this moment of profound realization.
ACT 10: The Right Paths Requires Broken Hearts
As Borch, the mystical gold dragon, revealed his true intentions, Geralt and Yennefer found themselves caught in a web of manipulation and heartbreak. Borch possessed a foresight that guided him to lead Geralt and Yennefer toward their true purposes, ones that would have a significant impact on the world they knew.
For Yennefer, Borch believed her true purpose lay in embracing the depths of her magical abilities and using them to save the world from the looming threat of Nilfgaard's rule. He saw in her the potential to become a powerful force against darkness, but first, she needed to confront the depths of her magic and unlock her full potential.
On the other hand, Borch realized that Geralt's true purpose revolved around reconnecting with Ciri, his child's surprise before she fell into the hands of evil forces who sought to use her as a weapon. Borch understood the significance of their bond and the pivotal role Ciri played in the fate of the world. He knew that Geralt needed to find and protect her to fulfill his destiny.
However, Borch's revelations shook the foundations of Geralt and Yennefer's relationship. Yennefer, driven by doubt, began questioning the authenticity of their love. She wondered if their feelings were a result of the Djinn's wish that had bound them together. Borch's clever remark about understanding why Geralt didn't want to lose Yennefer only fueled her suspicions.
In the heat of the moment, Geralt, overwhelmed by the situation and his insecurities, accused Yennefer of seeking a child solely to satisfy her ego. He criticized her for not taking responsibility for her actions and for not fully understanding the weight of their connection. Yennefer, hurt and angry, lashed back at Geralt, blaming him for not taking responsibility for his child's surprise.
With his plan laid out, Borch decided to intervene, seeking to save them from further pain. He revealed that Yennefer would never regain her womb, effectively ending her hopes of having a child. As for Geralt, Borch ominously declared that he would lose Yennefer, despite his initial desire to hold onto her.
Yennefer, feeling the weight of their emotional turmoil, stated that Geralt had already lost her, and she left, choosing to walk her path alone. Geralt, devastated by the turn of events, blamed Jaskier for Djinn's involvement, directing his anger toward his friend.
The entire party disbanded, each going their separate ways, carrying the weight of broken relationships and unfulfilled desires.
Unbeknownst to them, Borch had set the three of them on the right path, leading them toward the inevitable encounter with Ciri. His manipulations were designed to guide them toward their true purposes and ensure that they would play their parts in protecting Ciri and shaping the destiny of the world. The journey ahead would be fraught with challenges and heartache, but ultimately, their paths would converge again, setting the stage for their fated roles in the grand tapestry of events to come.
ThaBigBossMangReport