Eilwy gets tribbed

Celia smiled at the trembling enchantress. How young and scared she looked, shorn of her dark robes and dignity!

She slipped her green panties down and laid them on the table. Her little blonde bush was well kept, as you would expect for a lady of her station. Eilwy watched her suspiciously.

Celia grabbed Eilwy roughly by an ankle and upended the poor enchantress once more. Eilwy's legs splayed grotesquely, kicking helplessly in the air, her pink pussy lips fully exposed. Then Celia squatted over Eilwy and pressed her own pussy against the enchantress's, feeling how wet they both were and enjoying the little thrill of triumph that ran through her. Then she began to grind, rubbing herself furiously against Eilwy.

She kept in that position for a long time, grinding, enjoying the enchantress's flailing legs and frustrated, uncomfortable groans. Eilwy's pussy felt so soft and warm against her own.

After a while she found that the position was giving her insufficient purchase, so she threw Eilwy down onto the bed and scissored her. From this position she could grind forcibly and quickly. Within minutes she was ramming Eilwy, her own eyes rolling in her sockets as she finally came.

She collapsed next to Eilwy, who was trembling, dripping with sweat, and red faced from this latest humiliation. Eilwy's womanhood and sexuality had never been so abused!

Celia patted her on the cheek, still breathing heavily. "Did you cum again, Black Reaver?" she panted. "You're insatiable!"

Celia slipped out of the bed and returned to the chest. Eilwy was looking at her with pleading eyes, quite broken for the moment. She was sore and exhausted and just wanted it to end. Celia grinned.

"Sun's not up yet, Black Reaver," she cooed, pulling a small oak box from the chest. "And there are some other toys I'm dying to see you play with..."

There was a sudden knock at the door. Celia's eyes flashed angrily. Her maids knew she wasn't to be disturbed whilst entertaining! She slipped into a thick, furry robe and padded over to the door.

It wasn't one of her maids. It was Sylla, her enforcer, now wearing leather armour and looking pale.

"He escaped,' she said immediately, seeing the angry look on Celia's face. "I don't know how. But he got out."

"The priest?"

"Yes. He isn't in his cell."

Celia paused. This was bad news. Not only had she be denied teasing the fallen priest, but there was a good chance he'd now be looking for ****. She looked at the bed sadly, where Eilwy lay sprawled and breathing heavily in a broken, sticky mess. She'd have no more time for the enchantress tonight.

"Get her to the dungeon," she snapped. "And let's find that bloody priest."