Yes - she's not done with you...

As you internally scream with frustration (you'd scream externally if only your voicebox would work), your captor leans down and gently rolls you over, shifting your tall, well-muscled form with surprising ease - the witch is stronger than she looks!

The fear you're already feeling builds to a rolling crescendo as the mage stands back up and produces a dagger, seemingly from nowhere. It's small, and of inferior human craftsmanship, but you're pretty sure that even poorly forged steel is still very capable of killing you. You shut your eyes and swallow as best you can, preparing for the inevitable.

But it never comes. Instead, she drops into a crouch over you, straddling your legs, and takes the dagger to your leggings. Soon she's cut them open at the front and pulled the flaps apart to reveal your new addition. It's a slightly darker shade of green than the rest of your body, you note, in an attempt to distract yourself from your anger. You paid good money for those trousers!

But all thoughts of that are soon gone. Because now the witch, that soulless daughter of a swamp hog, has dropped to her knees, taken your cock in hand, and is gently toying with it with the very tips of her fingers.

And, despite everything, it feels incredible.

You try to hold back, but it's no use; your body knows what it wants, and you're powerless to control your muscles as your shaft slowly fills with blood and stiffens, or to pull away as she leans down and kisses the very tip, eliciting a little burst of pleasure that you'd shiver at if you could move.

Damn it, the bitch is turning you on. And there's nothing you can do to stop it. Before long you're hard and throbbing in her hand, and you have a definite urge to have something done about the situation. Which, fortunately for you, the witch is about to see to.