The Witch slips into your wet cunt.

The sensation is incomparable. As much as your mind tries to muster the masculinity it once had and rally your warrior spirit of resistance, your body betrays you. Your core blooms with sparks of burning ecstasy that ricochet from the newly formed void within you to the tips of your limbs. A void that is swiftly filled by the engorged cock of the woman behind you. A husky groan of submission involuntarily escapes your lips to harmonise with the wet _schlick _of your penetration; your mind having gone blank from your body being made whole. This new fullness, deeply feminine in a way that feels increasingly difficult to rail against, provides a stark contrast to your life before. You hadn't been able to see it, to feel it, but you'd always been empty. But this, this was you complete. This is what bodies are made for, how one should live. Mind blank and pussy full.

All that not-thought in an instant. The instant it took for the witch to hilt herself inside you to her entirety. As your moan trails off, hers fills the approaching silence; a sigh of relief as she languishes within the hot and wet flesh she just claimed. She takes her time like that, savouring the moment. The only movements of her hips were slight twitches and adjustments as she carves a space for her enveloped cock. But even those slight movements were felt keenly. The tightness of your inner walls highlighting and caressing each ridge and shift of the conqueror's spear within you.

Just as you can use the relative lack of movement to recover some semblance of self control, the witch behind you apparently finishes making herself comfortable in your body. She slowly begins to draw her hips back, the delicious completeness draining as the pleasure of friction re-sparks. Your traitorous form wants to whine, **** to be made whole again. But you have enough of yourself pulled together to resist. You won't submit to what's happened to you that easily. You're a warrior. A fighter. You will withstand this indignity and...

The witched slammed her hips back into yours, having reached the zenith of her withdrawal. You withstand nothing in the wake of that thrust. The thrust deep into your tunnel shatters all of what you were and replaces it with the primal need of what you've been sculpted into. You loose a moan that would be a roar to one of the weaker races. It echoes through the ornamented room leaving your lungs and throat raw. It echos through your body too.

Each and every fired nerve ending makes you conscious of your body in ways you didn't know you could be. Your shins and forearms scratch against the sheets under you whilst beads of sweat tangle with the raised hair on the parts of your body exposed to the air. You notice how top heavy you've become; the pendulous weight of your breasts doing its best to drag you to the bed under you. Fighting that, you can feel the taught strength of your abs and arms, the sculpted muscles tensed to hold yourself up. And, as much as you don't want to be, you're dragged to the feeling of where you're coupled to the witch. Your arse is pressed up to the hips of the slim woman, the pressure of your firm buttocks causing them to become almost cupped buy the hollows on her hip bones. Her thick, tangled nest of pubic hair scratches the sensitive lips of your entrance in a thousand sparks of sensation. And then there was where the hairs under her shaft scratched... that was an overwhelming joy. You can now understand why your mother tried so hard to teach to focus on a prospective mate's clit.

Again, all that in an instant. You can hear your own slut cries peter out, and you hang your head in shame. You hate that your first thought is how comparable that weight is to your tits.

"Good girl..." The witch coos softly, placing her so so soft hand on your hip and gently caressing your new curves. "You don't need to fight it. Pleasure is the most natural thing in the world. We're all ultimately just animals looking for mates. There's no need for shame."

She performs a smaller half-thrust. You're becoming rapidly familiar with the sensation, but it is still so overwhelming that a moan spills between your teeth gritted in an attempt of resistance. Heat blooms in your face as the shame spreads to a blush.

"Ahhhhh" She sighs, "You should be proud. You feel incredible. So tight!"

Another thrust. Another burst of pleasure verbalised. Another ****-knell to the warrior you once were.

"And you look sooo gorgeous! I've never seen back muscles like yours! Just watching them shift and writhe! And knowing I did that!" She moves her hand from your arse to trail it down the outline of your shoulder blades. "One of these days I'm going to have to cum on them. Mark them as mine."

That does some work to rise an ember of resistance from you. She seems to notice and you can feel her lean down across your back to put her face as close to your lowered head as she can.

"Didn't like that did you? I could feel you tighten around me at that. In indignation, perhaps?" She whispers smugly. "No worries. That won't happen today."

She roughly grips a fistfull of your hair, twisting and pulling to raise your ear to her lips. "Today, I'm going to cum in you. That's not going to be a problem is it?" The ember is quickly quashed at that, souring into a dread pall of fear. The stinging pain of your scalp emphasises the point, and drags you to you entry to her hut, where she magically overpowered you with but a thought. She has the power. You can't fight. You're no warrior here. No man. That settles in. You're a trophy for her to slake her lust on. And in. Nothing but a vessel for her seed.

As she releases her grip, the demand for an answer implicit, you meekly shake your head. Then let it hang again.

"Good girl." You feel her shifting inside and behind you as she moves to grip your hips with both hands. Finding purchase so she can be as rough as she likes. "And please, don't worry... "