You want power and control over the shadow tendrils

The idea of being able to control tentacles instead of being on the receiving end of them is ultimately what entices you to put on the shadowy gloves. The moment you slide them on your hands things begin to go wrong. You can feel the urges of the tendrils, but you have no idea how to control them. You move your fingers and the tubular black appendage begin to slide from the surrounding shadows. Free to do as they please they seek you out.

"Ahhhh, no!" you cry as they wrap your legs up and lift you off the ground. They're so soft and cool, like the surface of a pillow you've just laid your face against, but there is strength to them as well. They tighten around your knees and ankles and you cry with humiliation as your legs are spread and your blonde-thatched little cunt exposed to more of the ravenous shadow tendrils.

A fat one, nearly as big as your wrist, glides between your legs, rubbing against the tender flesh of your thigh. You feel it press against your slit and then slip inside you, stretching you open as inch after inch of shadow cock fucks into your tender pussy. While it's cramming your creamy cunt another tendril bulls its way between your lips and gags you. A third tendril, thankfully slightly smaller, pushes between your cheeks and invades your ass.

More tendrils loop beneath your back and under your armpits and elbows and hold you suspended in mid-air as you are fucked in three holes by the randy shadow cocks. The magical dicks invading you begin to warm up and absorb your flowing juices. Eerie black light pulses from your pussy and your mouth and, you'd guess, your ass as well. The lights pulse faster and faster and as you begin to cum, so do the shadow cocks, rippling and thrash as raw shadow essence pumps into your holes. It tastes like smoke and feels like warm fog spraying your insides.

This continues for many minutes, bringing you to one crescendo after another, until you finally manage some semblance of control over the appendages. Even with the control you allow it to continue, savoring the feeling and the taste of the orgasmic tendrils. Letting them get you off for a fourth and a fifth time. With a slurp of your juices you withdraw them from your holes and order them back to their shadows. You realize what sort of mischief and fun you can have with these gloves.

You find some clothes that suit you - a simple skirt and slightly revealing peasant blouse - and you ascend the drafty staircase to the surface door.

You travel for a few hours and cross a treacherous mountain bridge over a deep valley. Occasionally you test your control over the gloves by allowing a tendril to slip out of a passing shadow or to drag across your leg or your arm. You travel through a sunlit pine forest. When you emerge you stand before a massive mountain capped with snow.

This is the heart of the Dragon's Spine known as Great Peak. High atop it, at the limit of the tree line, the druids make their home. It will take you a day to climb. At the base of the mountain, alongside a clear stream and a narrow mountain road, you see a modest inn with a turning water wheel. A few horses are hitched outside. The sign marks the inn as the Wayward Lass and depicts a bawdy young lady sitting and holding two mugs of ale.

You could sure go for a warm bed and a cup or two of ale, but it would probably be best to continue your journey. You lost track of time in the gnome tunnels, but it seems early afternoon. If you started climbing now you could perhaps reach the druids by tomorrow morning. Or you could order a hot meal and perhaps test your knew plaything on some unsuspecting travelers and a lusty wench.