A ritual

"I think a ritual would be best fit for this slut. It's only been a day since she's been mine and this whore is already attuned to a ****'s life but she could be so much better. Oh the plans i have for this one." Your mistress states, breath growing shallow and a hand raised to massage her breast.

"Ah, very well. I've got just the ritual for her, filled with everything i know you'll just love," Istarille says to your mistress.

She mutters a few magical words and heads deeper into the estate along with your mistress, the invisible **** dangling you pulls forward following them.

The three of you enter a poorly lit room with only a few pitiful candles providing illumination. Huge leather bound books lay scattered across, pages ripped out along with jars of indiscernible items. At the center lies an enormous stone table with built in binders and a pentagram drawn from dried blood.

You are deposited onto the table, arms and legs stretched displaying your breasts and pussy. The two elves strap you into the bindings, metal clanging shut. The cold air turns your nipples hard and your pussy moistens from the mysterious aura of the room and anxiety from what's happening.

A slender hand dips into your pussy causing you to gasp out in pleasure before disappointingly retracting.

"She is quite the slut isn't she, ?" your mistress questions, fingers slick with your juice

"Yes, the biggest whore i've seen in a long time. You do know how to pick them. Usually these humans are quite the prudes but you've always managed to catch the harlots, Morianara."

'It's a talent, i'll enjoy this one for a long time. Now let's proceed with the ritual."

The elven mage begins chanting, the air hums with power and the pentagram glows with magical energies.

You suddenly feel hot, your entire body budding with energy. Exhaling in rapid gasps, drool and tears dripping down your face while your pussy leaks with your juice.