Sasha's identity is unraveled along with her propiety
Chapter 10: The Mystery
The room lingered with the scent of their passionate night as Geralt stirred awake, his senses attuned to a subtle disturbance. Squinting his eyes open, he observed Sasha moving stealthily through the room. The question of her intent flickered in his mind—was she searching for her clothes or something else?
To his surprise, Sasha wasn't rummaging through her belongings but rather delving into his possessions. As she perused his bestiary and sifted through his pants, a disconcerting feeling gnawed at Geralt. Bernard's earlier warning about Sasha's possible ulterior motives echoed in his mind.
Sasha quickly turned to observe Geralt. Instinctively feigned awakening, slightly moving his shoulders and giving a small yawn, his eyes fluttering open. Geralt knew he had to navigate the delicate balance between unraveling the mystery and fulfilling his desires. The morning held secrets yet to be revealed, and Geralt sensed the need to play the long game to get to his ultimate prize.
"Good morning, lover," Sasha whispered, her hands tracing a delicate path on Geralt's chest before their lips met in a soft morning kiss, “I don't know what you did to me last night but I am so horny for you.”
“Your desires are insatiable Sasha and I would like nothing more than to fuck you all day long, but it will have to wait”, Geralt acknowledged the significance of the upcoming day, his thoughts drifting to his primary mission to earn enough money to journey to Skillage to find his daughter Ciri. "It's a big day."
With a touch of gravity, Sasha gazed into Geralt's eyes, her request hanging in the air. "Geralt, you are such a tease. We will get together after the tournament then?" The weight of her words lingered, adding a layer of intrigue to the day's events, leaving Geralt to ponder the complexities of their connection amidst the backdrop of the tournament.
"I'll be there," Geralt affirmed with a subtle nod, his commitment clear. "And when I win, I plan on not just claiming the prize, but also claiming you."
Sasha's response was a sultry purr, her legs already damp with anticipation at the promise of what was to come. "Mmm, can't wait for you to claim what yours, Geralt," she teased, the air thick with the shared anticipation of their evening rendezvous.
As Sasha gracefully dressed and prepared to leave, Geralt's eyes were fixated on her every movement. The soft morning light streaming in from the window, between the curtains, caressed her skin, accentuating the curves of her body and the allure of her beauty.
As she walked away, each step seemed to carry a secret, leaving Geralt intrigued and eager to uncover the layers of mystery surrounding her. The challenge was set, and he was determined to delve into the enigma that was Sasha, to unravel her to her very core. The front door closed, and she was gone, but excitement brewed within Geralt for the unfolding cat-and-mouse game.
Checking his gear, Geralt found nothing stolen or disturbed. His Gwent deck remained untouched to his relief. Sasha's interest in his notes and books left lingering questions. A sly grin crossed his face as he remembered their pact, he would see her again allowing him to pursue this mystery later.
Determination crystalized in Geralt's mind. First thing first, he must conquer the challenges of the Gwent tournament.
Chapter 11: Tournament Finale
Geralt entered the room for the final day of the tournament with quiet confidence. With only two challengers remaining he could feel victory in his grasp. The air was charged with anticipation, and the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of competitors ready to prove their strategic prowess in the grandmasters' game of Gwent. He could feel the eyes of fellow participants and spectators alike, acknowledging the formidable Witcher in their midst.
The atmosphere was tense. The room buzzed with anticipation, Geralt's heart quickened at the announcement that his next challenger was none other than Sasha. He braced himself for the impending match, acutely aware of her shrewdness and cunning.
As Geralt faced off against Sasha, a nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind, questioning whether their previous rendezvous had been a well-placed, albeit pleasurable, distraction. He couldn't shake the feeling that her mysterious actions were purposefully staged to divert his attention from the cards and his carefully planned strategy.
As they commenced the first round of the match, it became evident that he needed to swiftly adapt his approach. He reflected on her win the previous night, and her ability to use his offense against him. With each card played, the calculating glint in her eyes hinted at a well-concealed strategy of her own. Geralt adjusted his gameplay, he focused on analyzing her patterns, attempting to decipher the intentions behind each move she made.
The tension in the air was palpable, each hand becoming a careful dance of strategy and counter-strategy, as they attempted to outmaneuver each other with their skillful plays. Between moves, she brushed her hand against his, her melodic voice encouraging his errors reminding him of her panting cries of pleasure. Despite the undeniable chemistry that simmered between them, his loss to her in the second round of gameplay reminded him to focus if he were to emerge victorious.
With a steely resolve, he reined in any distractions, channeling his energy into every calculated move. Geralt managed to turn the tide, ultimately clinching victory in a close-fought contest. The resounding cheers of the patrons filled the room, adding an electrifying energy to the night and setting the stage for the tantalizing encounter that awaited him with Sasha.
"Well, well, Geralt, congratulations on the win. I must say, your Gwent skills are impressive.," she teased, her voice carrying a subtle hint of admiration as she leaned closer.
Geralt, with a confident smirk, responded, "Well played, Sasha. I find you equally impressive… in more ways than just your Gwent skills. I hope we can explore those other skills together, where the stakes are a bit more intimate," he replied, his voice low and suggestive.
Their lips met in a lingering kiss, a moment charged with the electric anticipation. As their embrace broke, Sasha slipped a card into Geralt's hand, her fingers grazing his as she did so. "Looking forward to that, Geralt. I hope you win soon. Here's a little something to ensure your victory," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "Use it well, Witcher."
After a long break, the tournament continued. The tension in the room was palpable as Geralt and the Count faced off, their eyes locked in a battle of wits and strategy.
The Count's skilled moves threatened to overpower Geralt. Each card used was unique, and dangerous, and created a wall of both offense and defense. But with each play, Geralt's strategy revealed itself, pushing the Count to summon more and more of his high point cards up front, playing a game of chicken racing to the first win.
Then bolstered by the surprise card Sasha had slipped into his hand, Geralt surrendered the first round and collected a handful of his used cards to play again in the next round. It proved to be the decisive move that secured Geralt's victory over the formidable opponent, sending shockwaves through the room.
As the final card was played, the room erupted into applause, and Geralt couldn't help but glance over at Sasha, a victorious smile playing at the corners of his lips. She met his gaze, a knowing twinkle in her eye, acknowledging the role her assistance had played in his triumph. With the prize secured, Geralt couldn't shake the anticipation of what awaited him after the tournament, a promise of exploration and satisfaction from the mysterious and alluring Sasha.
Chapter 12: The Clues
Then in a rush of urgency, the organizer of the event rushed into the room escorted by three heavily armed guards. “It’s been stolen! The prize money has been stolen!” The organizer alerted everyone.
As the chaotic scene unfolded, with accusations flying, tension thickened in the air. Amidst the commotion, Geralt's instincts sharpened, his mind racing to piece together the events leading up to the sudden disappearance of the prize money. He cast a glance around the room, taking note of the frantic whispers and accusatory glances darting between the participants, each one grappling with their suspicions and fears. Geralt's gaze settled on Sasha trying to assess her motives.
Sasha could feel his accusatory gaze. She responded with a mix of concern and urgency. "It…it wasn't me, I promise," she assured him, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation as she met his gaze.
He nodded, he sensed the honesty of her words confirmed by her steady heartbeat. Her voice carried a note of sincerity that left him grappling with the uncertainty of the situation. “I need you to help me get into the room where the prize money was stolen so we can track down the thieves,” he said. Sasha used her charm and skills of deceit to navigate through the crowd and guards, gaining them access to the room.
Clues of the break-in were scattered but not insurmountable. The duo approached the scene of the crime, where a lifeless guard lay with a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Geralt knelt beside the fallen man, inspecting the bolt with a discerning eye.
"This isn't an ordinary crossbow bolt," he muttered. "It's tainted with a substance, something magical, a noonwraith-derived poison. That explains why no one heard the scuffle, this substance paralyzed and blinded the guard."
Sasha's eyes widened as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Magic? I thought all of the mages in Novigrad had been hunted down or fled the city?"
“This wasn’t done by a mage. A mage wouldn’t have needed a cross-bolt to paralyze the guard,” Geralt pondered, his brow furrowed, notable concern visible on his face. "No, this is the work of another witcher.”
Geralt rose, his gaze shifting to the balcony where the thieves had made their escape. He noticed faint scuff marks on the deck board leading to the railing where two deep indentations dug into the otherwise flawless handrail. “The thief must have scaled the three-story building's walls using a grappling hook and rope," Geralt observed. "Let's follow the trail. We might find more clues outside."
As they descended the stairs and stepped into the cool evening air, the duo examined the tracks leading away from the inn. Sasha was impressed by Geralt's heightened senses, he seemed to be able to find the slightest traces of footsteps. "The tracks stop here," Geralt noted his finger the footprints in the dirt. On a nearby road, several hundred feet from the Passiflora, Geralt examined a broken box with a distinct logo on it. "This could be a clue.”
Sasha nodded, her expression serious. "That logo looks familiar,” she said, pacing for a few minutes before the answer dawned on her, “I got it! It’s the logo of a Qulliq lamp oil company. I believe they store the seal oil in a warehouse located near the harbor.”
“Lead the way,” Geralt said.
The path to the warehouse led them away from the city center to the edge of town. Abandoned structures dotted the streets around them, their windows shattered, and doors creaking in the breeze. Vagrants took residence in the dilapidated buildings that sheltered them from the cold night breeze. In the distance, near the water, dim lights could be seen flickering in a building that appeared, unlike the rest, to be functional. “Let's investigate,” Geralt said.
They approached cautiously, sneaking in the shadows, to get as close to the warehouse as they could. The warehouse appeared heavily fortified with a large number of armed guards protecting the boat and the entrances to the warehouse. In the distance, the duo could see teams of armed workers hauling crates from the warehouse to the large vessel on the dock.
“That seems odd for a lamp oil company, doesn’t it?” Geralt said.
Sasha nodded. The whole scene looked suspicious.
Geralt motioned to the other end of the building that was protected by a single guard. “Let's enter from the far end of the building. It is less protected and will give us the surprise advantage we will need.”
“Shouldn’t we get help?” Sasha asked, concerned that they were outnumbered.
In the dim light, Geralt uncorked a vial of mutagen with a practiced motion. The liquid inside shimmered with an otherworldly glow as he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. Almost immediately, a transformative energy surged through his body.
The change was swift and profound. Geralt's muscles swelled, each sinew standing out with newfound definition. His stature grew, making him appear larger and more imposing. As the mutagen coursed through his veins, his skin took on a paler hue, almost as if touched by moonlight. The intricate network of veins beneath his skin began to glow with an eerie, black radiance, a stark contrast against the now-pale complexion.
“We don’t have time to get help. I can do this alone.” He said. Geralt's voice cut through the air like a blade—firm and resolute, carrying the weight of a seasoned warrior. His voice was different than before, it resonated with a gravelly quality that complemented his eerie monstrous new form.
“I am going with you,” Sasha said, pulling out a set of daggers from her out thigh. She cut a long slit down the back of her dress, enabling her to move more freely as the task required.
"Sasha, be on your guard," Geralt whispered, hand on the hilt of his sword. "We don't know what we might find here." They crept deeper into the warehouse, the echoes of their footsteps reverberated, and the dim light played tricks on their senses.
The pair of vigilantes snuck around to the back of the warehouse. The gap between the shadows they hid in and the place the guard stood was over 100 feet away. The area was well-lit, the distance too great to rush in without giving the guard time to sound the alarm.
“I got this,” Sasha said, her two daggers held by the blade in one hand, as she aimed at the target. With skill and precision, both daggers hit their mark, the first hitting the guard at the throat and the next hitting him in the stomach. The guard crumbled into a ball on the ground, the thud of his body masked by the ambient noise of the ocean wake lapping the dock.
Geralt observed with her a new level of appreciation, another layer of her anonymity exposed. She wasn't some socialite with a mutant fetish, she was something different entirely, and it excited him to peel back those layers further. The duo rushed to the door, Sasha collected and cleaned her daggers while Geralt dragged the body into the shadows.
Geralt pushed open the door to the warehouse, a musty scent greeted them as they entered the dimly lit interior. The air was thick with tension as they navigated the maze of crates and barrels. Geralt took note of the oil contained in the barrels, their highly flammable nature required caution.
As they transitioned from the storage area to the main warehouse floor, they heard hushed voices and the clinking of metal. Peering around a corner, they observed the thieves' illicit operation unfolding before them. Armed guards filled the space as workers urgently boxed explosives and weapons into crates. The loot, carefully organized and loaded onto a cart near the entrance, appeared well guarded.
“We have the cash from the Passiflora, boss,” one man stated to another.
“Good, the rest of the shipment should be here shortly. Once we buy them we can set sail for Nilfgaard. Those bastards will pay for destroying Temeria,” the other man responded. Geralt couldn’t place the voice but it was familiar.
"It's them," Geralt growled. Geralt, with his steel sword drawn, and Sasha, her daggers at the ready, exchanged a determined glance. With time quickly running out, they knew they needed to go now or risk losing this recovery opportunity. The stakes were high, and Geralt knew they had to act swiftly.
Chapter 13: Now or Never
"If I take out the archers on the catwalk, do you think you can clear the room," Sasha whispered to Geralt. "We need to disrupt their operation."
Geralt nodded. He counted ten guards in total, that shouldn't be a problem… even without using the Igni sign.
Sasha moved with cat-like grace, her footsteps silent as she gingerly climbed the stairs. As she reached the top, she crept carefully closer and closer to the archer Closest to her. With swift precision, she covered his mouth with one hand and sliced through his throat with the other. The guard's body slumped to the ground.
Taking that as his queue, Geralt rounded around the corner swiftly. Two soldiers were caught off guard, as the silver from his blade caught the dim light. He held the two-handed sword firmly, as he charged toward his first victim. The soldier drew his sword too late, Geralt's blade sliced through him like butter.
Just then, the second soldier swung his sword downward at the witcher, the blade moved swiftly toward Geralt's back. Geralt’s movements were fluid as he spun from one opponent to the next with such grace it appeared choreographed.
Their blades met with a loud clang, then with a side step spinning in the opposite direction Geralt's sword swung in a long wide arc around him, the hilt close to his chest, until he faced his opponent again, his sword ripped through his target. The soldier's head hit the floor first, rolling several feet away, as his body fell shortly thereafter.
Offering no respite, three more soldiers flooded into the room. As they entered, weapons drawn, they split up to flank Geralt. On either side, the larger of the three men faced him straight on. From above, the Witcher sensed an archer aiming. He stepped back into a defensive stance trying to time his parries as they charged forward.
Sasha engaged in her battle as a guard with a sword stood between her and the last archer. Her agility and skill with the daggers were evident as she expertly parried and struck. Swift and nimble, Sasha's training kicked in. With calculated moves, she deftly deflected the strikes of the swordsman, countering with a precise maneuver and with a well-placed kick, struck the assailant's knee, breaking it and rendering him incapacitated. As he crumpled to the ground, Sasha skillfully planted her knife in his back.
She sprinted towards the last archer on the catwalk who was aimed squarely at Geralt. As she charged at him he redirected his aim on her. As his fingers released the bowstring, his recurve bow sprung forward launching the arrow. Timed perfectly, with a skill that spoke of her training, she spun, dodging the arrow, as it whizzed by her ear. Within seconds her shoulder collided with his bow. Sasha used her body to slam his arm into the wall. While pinned, she released a torrent of quick stabs into his chest eliminating the threat.
Meanwhile, Geralt proved his mastery of the sword, his strikes cutting through the air with precision and tearing through his enemies. Despite the increasing number of soldiers, he remained a force to be reckoned with. While his Axii sign stunned his opponents, Geralt seized the opportunity to close in and swiftly dispatch them.
With a flick of his sword, he sliced through the dumbstruck soldiers, leaving a trail of defeated adversaries and carnage in his wake. His combat prowess was unparalleled, and it seemed like he could handle the entire group single-handedly.
However, despite his formidable skills, the tides of the battle turned suddenly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw, hidden in the shadows, a glowing aard sign appeared in the air, it was the other witcher. Before he could react, he felt the push blast him backward, but he quickly realized it wasn't aimed at him directly.
The cloaked assassin came into view just as Sasha felt the gust pound into her body, her feet left the ground, and her body was propelled over the railing by the invisible force. She hit a barrel with a hard thud and then tumbled onto the floor, dazed but trying to stand. Before Sasha could regain her footing, the hilt of a soldier's sword struck her from behind the head, delivering a powerful blow that rendered her unconscious.
"Surrender, Geralt or the woman dies," a voice echoed from the shadows. Stepping into the dim light, Bernard, the halfling, revealed himself as the mastermind behind the operation. The odds were against Geralt.
Geralt briefly contemplated his options and quickly understood his folly; he was outnumbered and he was too attached to Sasha. He surrendered, dropped his sword, and raised his hands. He stared into the darkness curious who his Witcher adversary was.
Chapter 13: Captured
Sasha's consciousness slowly returned, and she found herself in a dark, cold room. The soreness in her head reminded her of the hilt that had knocked her unconscious. Bound and gagged, she sat in the shadows, her hands tied behind her back and her ankles securely fastened. As her mind raced with thoughts of escape and survival, she couldn't ignore the peculiar tingling sensitivity that seemed to dance across her skin. Her heightened senses were a lingering effect of the potion she had consumed.
The door creaked open, and a small figure entered, followed by two taller figures carrying candles that illuminated the room. Sasha strained to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness. The small figure revealed himself as the one in charge, holding a long, flat wooden paddle with a devious grin that hinted at sadistic intentions.
"Well, well, well, our precious Sasha has awakened from her nap... or should I more accurately call you Cantarella?" His words dripped with menace. In the flickering candlelight, she could see the contours of the room. Her gaze darted around, taking in the old wooden desk in the center and the worn-out furniture of the room, the cracked and peeling walls, and the cob-webs that have built up in the corners of the room due to the aged, neglected nature of the room.
Cantarella, Sasha’s real name, knew the risks of being a spy behind enemy lines, and the possibility of torture loomed over her. Suicide was not an option now, leaving her to face the impending ordeal. A unique fear gripped her, one that many women spies understood intimately.
"We need answers, Cantarella, and your cooperation. Give us both, and you may survive... do you understand?" he taunted, and Sasha nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze unwavering.
"Good. Men, remove her gag... but be careful, this Nilfgaardian spy is dangerous, very dangerous indeed," commanded Bernard.
As the gag was removed, and Sasha drew in a deep breath, she felt her head suddenly jerked back. From behind her, her hair was pulled back and down, forcing her to look up, her eyes wide with panic, her mouth wide open. Then, rapidly, the assailant pressed a stick lengthwise into the back of her mouth, wedged between her molars.
“This little concoction should help loosen your lips, Cantarella,” Bernard said as he pulled out a vial of glowing yellow liquid. He uncorked the substance and slowly poured it into her mouth while holding her nose shut. The nature of the liquid remained a mystery to her, but instinct told her it couldn't be anything good. Despite her efforts to resist, she swallowed the elixir, the cold liquid gliding down her throat.
Released from her hold, she pushed the stick out of her mouth with her tongue and spit, but she knew it was already too late.
“Don’t worry, my dear, this truth serum is harmless and only takes a few moments to take effect,” Bernard said with a grin.
As the potion seeped into her veins, a subtle transformation began to unfold. A wave of tranquility cascaded through her, untethering her mind from the constraints of fear. The potent dose of the serum-induced a light-headed sensation, and an unexpected liberation permeated her thoughts. Unburdened and strangely motivated to speak, she felt the grip of inhibition loosen.
Yet, it wasn't just the truth serum at play; as the serum mingled with the remnants of the succubus cocktail, a potent alchemy unfolded within her. The love potion's influence, which had sparked arousal the night before, now experienced a renewed life, with an intensified vigor that enhanced its effects. Waves of desire surged through her, gradually building in strength, creating a complex tapestry of emotions that danced between liberation and lust. The gravity of her situation seemed momentarily suspended as her senses succumbed to the intricate interplay of potions coursing through her veins.
Flushes of warmth painted her cheeks, the heat emanating from the depths of her being. Each breath caused her flesh to tingle with anticipation. In a curious twist, fear gave way to an exhilarating surge of arousal, creating an unexpected cocktail of emotions within her.
Bernard, the short halfling in charge, had a smug expression that spoke of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. His eyes gleamed with malicious intent, and his thin lips curled into a taunting grin. His stature might have been diminutive, but his air of authority and the menace in his gaze made him loom large in Sasha's perception. This strength and command made her shiver in anticipation, her heightened senses amplifying the charged atmosphere in the room.
Bernard held a wooden paddle, its handle wrapped in weathered leather, indicating years of use, suggesting a history of inflicting pain. The thick, rectangular shape featured holes, allowing it to cut through the air with swiftness. Sasha's eyes fixed on the instrument of potential torment, realizing that she was now entirely at his mercy.
As Bernard spoke, Cantarella's pulse quickened, not from fear but from an unsettling and inexplicable arousal that seemed to intensify with each passing moment. She discreetly pressed her thighs together, attempting to contain the building heat that seemed to respond to the looming threat.
"So, Cantarella, what is the head of the secret service for Nilfgaard doing here in Novigrad?" Bernard inquired.
"I was playing cards to get close to a mark," she replied, her eyes meeting Bernard's defiantly.
His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he slapped her. The sharp sound echoed through the room, and Cantarella felt the sting on her cheek. His anger flared immediately, evident in the intensity of his gaze.
"Don't toy with me! You raided my warehouse with the intent to disrupt me! You knew what I was doing!" he yelled, his hands gripping her jaw tightly to ensure he had her undivided attention.
"I...I…I was tracking Geralt, not you!" she pleaded desperation in her voice.
Unmoved, Bernard grabbed her dress at the neckline, tearing it and ripping the buttons from the bodice. With surprising strength, he pulled her down off the chair. Sasha landed on her knees, her face hitting the floor, her large breasts hung unencumbered by clothing.
"You must think I am stupid!" Bernard shouted, his voice sliced through the air as he circled Cantarella. His eyes filled with a mix of amusement and malice as he evaluated her compromising position. Cantarella’s hands were bound tightly behind her back, her face against the floor, her knees spread wide supporting her firm, round ass that presented itself enticingly in the air. His eyes followed the purposefully ripped fabric of her dress as it climbed up her firm calf and trailed off between her legs halfway up her thigh leaving her nearly exposed.
He stepped between her legs and with a deliberate motion, he gripped the fabric, pulling open both sides of her already-torn dress, revealing the smooth skin of her thighs. With a sequence of swift and forceful pulls, he tore her dress apart, and the sound of tearing fabric echoed through the room. The torn fabric ascended her body. As the fabric parted, it unveiled her soft milky white flesh adorned only by delicate lace white panties. The thin white fabric clung to her damp skin, her last remaining shield against complete nakedness.
She could feel the weight of his gaze as he twirled the wooden paddle in his hands, ready to assert dominance. To her surprise, instead of fear, she felt the excitement building within her, her breath shortening, her heat rising steadily. The room filled with tension as the truth serum and love potion continued to work its way through her system, amplifying her desires, and overtaking her rationality.
"Please, don't hurt me…stopping you was only part of the plan!" she admitted, the words tumbling from her mouth. As she heard them she couldn't believe what she said.
The paddle drew back, and a sharp, stinging blow landed on her exposed ass. A cry escaped her lips as the burn intensified, but then she felt Bernard's hand rubbing her tender skin. The unexpected touch triggered an involuntary moan as her body shuddered in delight, a response she couldn't control.
"Finally, the truth! What did you need Geralt for?" he demanded, his anger still evident. He smacked her rear again, harder this time, and her body lurched forward.
Entranced by her beauty and the power he held over her, he felt an urge to delve deeper, to explore the lengths at which she was willing to entertain him. His hand, once fueled by anger, now adopted an unsettling tenderness as it gently caressed the aftermath of his assault. The touch carried an unexpected mix of comfort and arousal, causing her breath to hitch in response.
“Emhyr instructed me to gain his trust, to use the money as a ploy to bring him here to destroy your weapons and to learn the status of his mission,” she said. As she spoke her body arched, her hips pressed into his palm speaking volumes of her desires.
His eyes focused on her firm round ass, the contours of her panties clung to her moist, eager core, the subtle outline of her entrance tempting him to uncover its secrets. She returned a small dagger, its cold, flat blade traced along the curves of her rump. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine as the last remnants of her modesty yielded to the blade's edge.
“You are a fabled seductress, Cantarella. The seducer of Kings, and ruin of kingdoms. What must it be like in your tempestuous depths where even a Witcher would become your pawn,” he snarled with both curiosity and dominance.
She wanted to hate the halfling, her mind raced to do something, anything, but her body betrayed her. Her arousal intensified, the warmth and moisture between her thighs creating a palpable anticipation. Between her thighs, the engorged puffy flesh of her pussy at first pressed tightly together slowly opened, a clamshell of delight that glistened enticingly at its core, begging to be explored.
“What must it be like to be a halting! To be half the man of a regular man,” she spat, her words both an insult and an invitation to prove her wrong.
His eyes took in her exposed beauty. Her flesh giving off the signals of wanton needs, desires begging to be filled. “Let’s see how this halfling compares to your other lovers then, shall we?”
His hands gently caressed her ass, his thumb tracing the wet slit between her luscious lips, spreading her apart, releasing the folds of her labia, inching closer to her deepest desires with deliberate intent. A soft, involuntary moan escaped Cantarella's lips, drawing a reaction from Bernard.
“Tell me about Geralt's mission, honey,” tell me everything and I will reward you for being a good little girl,” he said.
His fingers slid along her wet entrance, targeting her aroused clitoris, and then slowly his fingers drove into her. Her head lifted as she whimpered in pleasure, her back arching, her hips slowly rocking into his hand. "Mmm, Geralt is on a mission to find something that Emhyr needs... mmmm." she managed to explain amid the chaos.
Cantarella felt Bernard's warm breath on her exposed, glistening flesh as his nose approached. Her arousal intensified as his breath caressed her skin. A low moan escaped her lips, yearning for more.
"Tell me, kitten, what did Emhyr need?" Bernard inquired, and before she could respond, his warm, soft tongue traced the contours of her sensitive cunt. His lips sucked on her clitoris then his tongue made long licking motions against her engorged flesh.
Her body shuddered in response, and she let out a long, uncontrollable moan, "Ohhh, gods, that feels so good!" She admitted, relinquishing control of the moment, in disbelief that this tiny man could make her feel so good. She surrendered to him, responding to the pleasurable assault. “He…he…is looking for a key.”
"Good girl! Do you have the key now?" Bernard remarked, his tone dripping with satisfaction.
“Mmm….no…uh,” she said, panting, overwhelmed by her body's desire.
“Damn Cantarella, you are such a horney little slut, aren’t you! You ready to feel my halfling cock in your sopping wet cunt,” he said, his hands already working to free his thick arousal, ready to show Cantarella what she has been missing.
“Oh, gods! I…I am so wet! You’re strength, your dominance…it’s all I want,” she said, the veil of her inhibitions gone. The truth of her desires laid bare for him to claim.
His pants hit the floor with a soft thud, and his hardened flesh stood proudly, ready to claim her. As she looked back she gasped, his rod extended from his body like a club, narrow at the base and thick at the end, Bernard positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock grazing against her yearning flesh, Cantarella's body quivered in response.
Inch by inch, he entered her, her nerves ignited in pleasurable shockwaves that overwhelmed her senses. As his fat bulbous head plunged into her in its wake her sensitive flesh hugged tightly to his firm rigid shaft, radiating in pleasure from deep in her core. She released an audible cry of pleasure from her lips, “ohhh, fuck!”
“Cantarella, how does my key fit in your box?” he asked, “Do you still think I am half a man!”
Cantarella screamed, "Oh gods, you're so thick!" She always imagined a halfling cock would be the size of half a man’s, but as he claimed her, she felt the walls of her flesh stretch, clinging onto the firm ridged girth of Bernard’s manhood. Moans of pleasure and surrender escaped her lips. As Bernard slowly pumped in and out of Cantarella, her senses were inundated with a feeling of fullness and surrender. “Fuck, yes! You…you feel so fucking good!”
As he pressed for answers, his hips thrusted into her with more power.”Tell me about the key Emyhr is looking for!”
Her body lurched forward with every thrust, her breast swaying with the motion of his hips."It's… it's a girl…ah yes," she panted, unable to contain herself. "Uh, uh, uh ...gods…the girl is the key…oh yes." The guards observed in awe as the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. Cantarella, once a captive, became a willing participant in this unique and unexpected interrogation.
The guards exchanged surprised glances as Cantarella's moans filled the room. Bernard, evidently pleased with the turn of events, continued his exploration of her desires. His skilled fingers danced over her sensitive skin, and he reveled in the newfound openness of his captive.
"Ah, Ciri," he mused, his voice a low rumble. "Why does Emhyr want this key, my dear?" As he spoke, he gripped her bound hands like reins, then suddenly pulled her into him again and again. The sensation of being dominated heightened the intensity of the moment. His hips rhythmically timed, each movement sending waves of pleasure through Cantarella's body. Her moans built with each thrust, her body responding to his every move.
Cantarella, caught in the web of sensations and desires, struggled to articulate a coherent response. "She... she can…mmm, become a weapon," she stammered between gasps. Her mind, clouded by the intoxicating pleasure, could hardly focus on the interrogation.
Bernard chuckled, as he watched her unravel beneath him. "Well, my dear Cantarella, it seems our little interrogation is proving quite fruitful for both of us. How do you like being fucked by a halfling, Cantarella?” he said.
"Uh…uh…Bernard, I…I love being fucked by you! Dominate me! Fuck me! Please!" Cantarella pleaded, her voice desperate for satisfaction.
As he fucked her, the palm of his hand slapped against her ass hard echoing in the room, each loud crack resonating with the rhythm of their passionate encounter. The sensation of his hands against her skin intensified her pleasure, the mix of pain and pleasure driving her to moan louder and louder.
"Cantarella, you will pay for disrupting my operation," he grunted as his thrusts became more powerful and forceful. "Do you understand?" he said.
Caught in a whirlwind of desire, her breathless moans drowned any coherent thought. As his movements edged her closer to the precipice of release, her arousal built to an irresistible crescendo. The tension reached a point of no return, and in a fervent surrender, she uttered, "Yes, oh yes, make me pay! Claim me! Use me! Again and again!"
Bernard, grinning with pleasure, his thrusts growing more erratic. "I will, you sexy cock-hungry-whore! You are going to be my sex slave! My cum bucket!" he said, grunting with a low gruff voice between breaths.
As he thrusted in and out of her he ignited waves of pleasure rolling through her body. She screamed in ecstasy, a symphony of pleas and begs escaping her lips, driven by an insatiable hunger that only his hard flesh could satiate. Cantarella's moans transformed into desperate pleas, "Yes! Cum with me! Fill me with your halfling seed!"
His fingers gripped her hips with a possessive intensity, each thrust plunging her deeper into the abyss of desire. With a howl of satisfaction, he made one final thrust as he reached his climax, she felt the electrifying surge of warmth as he filled her, his essence flooding her depths.
"Bernard! Yes! I feel you in me!" she screamed, as her release erupted in a tidal wave of pleasure, her orgasm squirted fluids in an audible torrent that seemed to consume her entire being, her body violently shuddered with satisfaction.
“Fuck yes, slave, cum for Daddy!” He said as he watched her release explode out of her. The intense pleasure left her trembling and breathless, a willing captive to the ecstasy they had unleashed.
Bernard, satisfied with the conquest, withdrew his spent cock, a residual trail of his essence dripping down the back of Cantarella's trembling thigh. With deliberate nonchalance, he left her spent and recovering on the cold ground. The air hung heavy in the aftermath of their shared passion. Cantarella lay there, her secrets exposed and her chastity unraveled, her face flushed trying to understand what had happened.
"We will continue this tonight, Cantarella," Bernard declared, his words carrying a weight of unspoken promises. As he dressed himself, preparing to attend to the affairs disrupted by Cantarella and Geralt, he left her in the care of his men. The room, once a witness to their carnal dance, now became a silent witness to the aftermath—a complex tapestry of desire, surrender, and the lingering echo of pleasure.
Chapter 13: The Guards
Cantarella, still recovering from the intense encounter, found herself on shaky legs as the guards assisted her off the floor. A mix of pleasure and confusion clouded her thoughts as she tried to reconcile the fear and contempt she had for Bernard and yet the overwhelming lust that overcame her as she begged to be claimed by him.
As her body still quivered with the aftermath of passion, she replayed how her body responded to her desires, possessed by some other force within her that loved every second of it. As she replayed the scene in her mind she could feel the wetness building in her again, her sex drive was insatiable.
Unbound then guided by the guards, she stumbled towards the desk in the dimly lit room. Cantarella followed the silent instructions of the guard behind her who placed her trembling hands on the table. From behind, the older guard slowly undressed her, removing the remnants of her torn clothes that hung off her shoulders, and discarded them onto the floor, leaving her naked and exposed.
The old guard’s touch was surprisingly gentle as his hand glided over her exposed skin. She could feel the warmth of his touch, his fingers tracing a path from her stomach up to her chest. As his hand wrapped around her, she involuntarily straightened up, and he leaned in, his proximity adding a new layer of anticipation to the charged atmosphere.
As the old guard undressed her, the other guard watched hungrily, her body a canvas marked by the passions that unfolded before his eyes. The atmosphere hung heavy with a blend of satisfaction and lingering desire. The young guard in front of Cantarella stared in awe at the beauty before him, her large breasts, wide sensual hips, and full lips all spoke of her ravenous desire, her willingness for more.
The old guard, emboldened by her obedience, closed in on Cantarella from behind, his body pressing against hers, effectively pinning her between him and the sturdy desk. "That was hot, honey" he whispered into her ear. His hands greedily fondled her breasts. He squeezed her taut nipple, drawing a soft moan from Cantarella, her body reacting to his advances. The room seemed to close in around her as his hips pressed into hers, the large bulge in his pants emphasizing the physical dominance he sought to assert.
With a suggestive tone, he continued, "Sounds like you want more. What do you say, honey?" His words hung in the air, the implicit invitation hanging heavily as he pressed down on her back lowering her against the desk. Cantarella, driven by the residual effects of the potion and her flowering desires, found herself bending over willingly, her elbows resting on the desk, ready to endure whatever was to come.
As the guard behind her worked to unbuckle his pants. She could feel the heat building in her core and radiating through her body. The clank of his belt hitting the floor echoed in the room, signaling the impending intimacy.
His warm hands gripped her firm ass, pulling her cheeks apart, as he watched himself enter her, savoring her surprisingly tight cunt as it gripped him. She gasped, feeling his rigid flesh slide into her. "Ohhh, uh, uh, uh," she moaned involuntarily as his hips began thrusting.
Meanwhile, the other guard positioned himself in front of her. The young guard's pants dropped quickly, the metallic clank of his belt hitting the stone floor. His rigid flesh stood tall, an imposing presence demanding attention. "Suck my cock," he commanded.
Cantarella, caught in the moment, licked her lips.
Her warm mouth opened to consume his cock, enveloping him in the depths of her oral embrace. “Fuck yeah, she likes it!” he said proudly. His hands, like an unyielding force, gripped her hair, pushing her down onto him. Her head bobbed up and down on his thrusting cock, delving into the back of her throat. Even as she gagged, he showed no mercy, her lips wrapped tightly around him, sucking with fervor, hoping for his seed to spill into her.
The room became a symphony of moans and rhythmic movements as the guards took advantage of the vulnerable position Cantarella found herself in. Cantarella's body arched in submission. The guard behind her thrust into her with a relentless rhythm, each ratcheting her into ecstasy as she moaned and whimpered, responding to the assault.
The room filled with a symphony of illicit pleasure, a cacophony of sounds blending with the rhythmic movements of their bodies merging. Cantarella's hands gripped the edges of the desk, her body pressed against it, completely at the mercy of the two guards. As the guards continued their advances, Cantarella's submission deepened, lost amid the intense and explicit encounter.
Both men thrust in unison, sending shockwaves through her trembling body. The first guard's vigorous thrusts claimed her pussy, propelling her forward into the other man's awaiting cock. Her mouth descended as far as it could go, swallowing him whole, her nose buried in the tangle of his pubic hair. The musty scent invaded her senses as the potion took control, her hands gripping the man's ass, pulling him into her.
The young guard’s dick eagerly thrusted into her mouth, "Yeah, take it all, slut!”
The room echoed with the symphony of debauchery as Cantarella succumbed to the relentless onslaught. Her body writhed between the two guards, their words sinking into her consciousness as pleasure mingled with the pain, the sensations driving her wild. She couldn't deny the pleasure they were coaxing from her, as her whimpers of pleasure got louder and louder his words seeped in.
Cantarella's eager mouth labored fervently on the young guard's pulsating member. When the cock was eventually withdrawn, silky ropes of saliva clung to it, forming a glistening trail as they descended onto the desk. The guard's ecstasy was palpable, punctuated by urgent words escaping his lips, "Oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." And in that moment, his taut flesh convulsed, releasing a torrent of hot ecstasy in successive ropes. Driven by an awakening sexual desire, Cantarella swiftly opened her mouth wide, capturing and savoring every delicious drop of his release.
He watched as his essence painted her face, the white goo colored her lips and cheeks white. As she continued to get fucked from behind, the young man’s eyes connected with her as her fingers sensually directed his cum to her lips, licked her lips clean and swallowed the young man's hot seed.
“You like how it tastes, don’t you whore! Clean me off!”, he hooted in pleasure as he inserted his sputtering cock into her mouth where she sucked on his semi-rigid flesh, consuming the last remnants of his release. His words cut through her like a knife, as she savored his salty release she understood why he called her a whore. She more she sucked on his seed, the more she deserved the title. She was a whore, selling secrets for sex.
Her back arched a submissive posture to their unbridled desires. The moans, muffled by the young man's cock in her mouth, portrayed a surrender to the pleasure that engulfed her. She knew she shouldn't relish it, but in that moment, it fulfilled every craving she had.
Just then, she felt a new sensation behind her as the guard's meaty fingers gently caressed her asshole. Panic surged as he pressed into her, his fingers stretching her, penetrating her, claiming her. Attempting to scream, she pushed the cock out of her mouth, but all that escaped were moans. "Wait, I…!" she screamed. But she was immediately silenced by the young man's eager cock getting pushed into the back of her throat.
Despite the degradation, her responses betrayed her internal conflict. The words she wanted to say got lost in the chaos of pleasure and pain. A scream of affirmation escaped her lips, the pleasure overriding any resistance she might have had. “Oh…oh…uh…yes, like that!” she panted.
In response, the guard landed a sharp slap on her ass, eliciting a purr from Cantarella, the sting intermingling with the waves of pleasure that continued to consume her. “You fucking slut! Look at how you love my fingers in your ass. You love having all your holes claimed!” he spat. “Tell me you want me to fuck your ass!”
Her hips bucked into him, she couldn’t deny the feelings of absolute ecstasy that coarse through her veins. Her body quivered on the edge of climax as she begged, “Yes, I am a slut, oh gods, claim me! Claim all of me!”
The guard behind her withdrew from her pussy, the anticipation hung in the air as he rubbed his hardened member against her willing, puckered flesh. He gripped her hips and pressed his rigid cock into her asshole. Her weakened sphincter muscle spread open as he plunged into her depths inch by inch. At first, it felt like fire had ignited in her, the pain causing her to scream in pain. As his thickness opened her hips up, filling her, making her gasp for air, her body adjusted to his girth, and the pain shifted to pleasure.
"Ow… holy shit…you feel so thick… fuck, my virgin ass…you're stretching me to my limits!" she panted.
His hand gripped her hair like reins, pulling her upright, pressed against his sweaty flesh. Cantarella’s back arched sensually, her full breasts hanging and begging to be played with, as his long flesh pushed fully into her depth, a long moan escaping from her lips. As his hand moved to her breasts, pulling and twisting her erect nipples, she felt his warm breath on her ear as he said, “You like how this feels don’t you!" said
His hand gripped the back of her thighs lifting her off the ground, her bent legs spread open as he began to thrust into her. His strength was overwhelming as her velvety flesh gripped its invader, her body radiating with a pleasure she hadn't known.
Cantarella’s moans filled the air, "Oh gods, yes, holy shit yes! Give it to me!" she begged, lost in the sensations. Her hanging breasts bounced in rhythm with each thrust, swaying like pendulums caught in the erotic momentum. Her screams echoed in the room, blending with the rhythmic slapping sounds of their bodies colliding.
"Your ass is so fucking tight, slut!" He howled as her body bounced up and down on his tool. Her head was thrown back onto his shoulder, her arm flung around his neck hoping to keep herself steady in the chaos of her desires.
The young guard watched, captivated by the spectacle unfolding before him, his manhood ratcheted up to attention. Cantarella, caught in the throes of pleasure, her moans and pleas creating an intoxicating symphony of desire. Her body was a canvas of desire, caught between the two men who took her with unbridled fervor.
“God you are beautiful,” the young man said as he approached her, his hand pressed into her breast pinching her taut nipple. As he continued to close the distance, his lips met hers, their warm tongues danced together in a passionate embrace when she felt him shove his hard young cock into her yearning pussy. Cantarella’s eyes shot open, as ecstasy etched across her face, as she felt the young man's thick cock slide deep into her.
“Uh…uh…fuck, you are both so big! Treat me like the slut I am! Use me! Yes!” She panted, overwhelmed by the sensation of being sandwiched by two men. The thin flesh that separated the two men's intrusions into her was stretched and pulled apart, the sensations firing off a cascade of pleasure through her nerve endings. “Yes! Yes! You boys are fucking me so good!”
“God your pussy feels so fucking good!” The young man howled and his hips pounded into her.
Lost in the rapture of her double-penetration, Cantarella’s arms tightened around the young man in front of her, her body undulating with the rising tide of her climax. As the men pistoned into her, the room became a symphony of moans, slapping sounds, and the rhythmic cadence of their carnal dance. Her body, a vessel of desire, succumbed to the relentless thrusts and the dual invasion. Every movement, every friction against her skin, sent shivers of ecstasy through her core.
"She's loving it!" The young man said as she hugged him tightly, moaning in his ears.
As the men pounded into her, she felt a symphony of pleasure building within her, a crescendo that resonated from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. The simultaneous penetration heightened her arousal, creating a cocktail of sensations that left her breathless and overwhelmed.
The guard behind Cantarela intensified his movements, his hips thrusting with a fervent urgency. Each push into her sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. His grip on her hips tightened, guiding her rhythm to match his own. As he neared climax, his thrusts became more erratic, reflecting the building tension within him. He howled, "I'm gonna... gonna...!"
In that moment, Cantarella was a captive of pleasure, a willing prisoner to the desires that consumed her. "Yes, yes! Give it to me!" She begged. The heat of the encounter, the sweat that glistened on her skin, and the intoxicating scent of their shared lust blended, creating an immersive experience that left her senses ablaze with ecstasy.
As the guard behind Cantarella approached the brink, his movements became more forceful and desperate. The feeling of him deep inside her, coupled with the anticipation of his release, intensified her pleasure. With a final thrust, she felt her anus fill with his hot cream, as he reached his climax, she screamed, “Yes, oh gods yes! I feel you! I feel your release in me!”
Cantarella’s body shuddered into a climax as she screamed in delight. Her climax was an overwhelming cascade of pleasure, a symphony of sensations that engulfed her in a whirlwind of ecstasy. “Yes, yes, I’m cuming!” She howled. Pressed between the two sweaty men, her body responded to their relentless thrusts with an increasing urgency. The coiling tension in her muscles reached a breaking point, and as the heat of the guard behind her spilled into her, Cantarella's body exploded in a torrent of release.
Her screams echoed through the room, a primal expression of the pleasure that surged through every nerve ending. The weight of her desires bore down on her as waves of pleasure coursed through her, shaking her to the core. Cantarella's body convulsed uncontrollably as the young guard watched her unravel, their eyes connecting as he began thrusting into her sensitive quivering flesh in long commanding motions, faster and faster. The relentless rhythm of pleasure persisted, leaving Cantarella in a state of blissful abandon, lost in the throes of her insatiable desires.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” she screamed.
With urgency, he plunged into her with long, deep thrusts, Cantarella's quivering body seemed to respond, each movement echoing another climax. Her screams of pleasure filled the room, a symphony of desire that begged for more. He felt the rising tide within him, his release imminent as he yelled, “I’m cumming!” With that, he thrust deeply into her, ensuring that his essence would be felt.
In a culmination of heat and warmth, he released himself into her, filling her with a torrent of his seed. The sensation seemed endless, a continuous flow of warmth that mingled with the intense pleasure already coursing through Cantarella's body. A smile etched on her lips, as she stared into the young man’s eyes, accepting his gift. She savored the look of pleasure that crossed his face and as he kissed her she knew she was a good girl…a good slut.
For several timeless moments, the three of them clung to each other, the sweaty bodies pressed into Cantarella, immersed in the aftermath of their passionate union. In the wake of their encounter, Cantarella found herself caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. These men, once strangers and her captors, had transformed into something unexpected—her lovers. A tingling sensation reverberated through her body, the echoes of her impassioned pleas lingering in her mind. The confusion was undeniable, yet so was the undeniable enjoyment she experienced.
As the men donned their clothing, Cantarella's body lay spent and used, sprawled on the unforgiving wooden desk, a canvas marked by the fervor of the two guards. Drenched in the remnants of their shared ecstasy, she basked in the profound satisfaction that enveloped her, her eyes fluttering open to survey the aftermath of their intense encounter.
Unable to rationalize the whirlwind of sensations that had transpired, Cantarella's mind succumbed to the intoxicating pleasure derived from their combined attention. Her fingertips traced the delicate contours of her tingling lips, the taste of him lingered on her lips, and as she dripped with the evidence of their shared passion, a smile of genuine satisfaction adorned her face…she felt fulfilled in her new role.
Cantarella retraced the journey that had led her to this point. The strong men that dominated her opened the realms of possibilities within her, each orgasmic release evidence of her growing need to submit to their will. She found herself yearning for more. The words “slut” and “whore” that were once degrading became tools to her pleasure. The realization that she enjoyed her abuse sent shivers down her spine
Each throbbing wave of pleasure echoed in her memory, and with every orgasmic crescendo, she felt the relentless surge of desire overwhelming her, claiming her very essence. As she lay there, ready to embrace the full surrender to her insatiable desires, Cantarella found herself prepared to accept her role as a willing captive, a slave to the intoxicating allure of her carnal appetites.