Dimensional Traveler: Kyle (after the end of the game, Geralt and Yennefer are together.... for now)

Kyle blinked, his heart pounding in his chest as the dark stone walls of the towering fortress loomed around him. The scent of burning wood and sage filled the air, and flickering candlelight threw eerie shadows across tapestries depicting strange creatures and mythical battles. He had no idea how he'd ended up here, in this strange, otherworldly place, but the sight before him made his head spin.

Geralt of Rivia, the infamous White Wolf, sat hunched over a table covered in strange, arcane symbols and alchemical equipment. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the dim light, and his amber eyes flicked up to meet Kyle’s with a cold, assessing gaze. Beside him, Yennefer of Vengerberg, the sultry sorceress with raven-black hair and violet eyes that seemed to pierce straight into his soul, was scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, her movements graceful and deliberate.

"Who are you?" Geralt’s voice rumbled, breaking the tension in the room.

Kyle opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. One moment, he was at home—just an average eighteen-year-old—and now, he stood in the lair of two of the most legendary figures in all of the Continent.

Before he could answer, something shifted inside him. It wasn’t just the sheer magic of the place or the weight of the sorcerers’ presence—it was something within him, something… new. A strange, pulsing sensation that tingled at the edges of his consciousness. Kyle frowned, focusing on the feeling. It was as if he could reach out with his mind, touch something... something far beyond mere thoughts.

"What's happening to me?" he muttered to himself, half in disbelief.

Yennefer turned her gaze to him, her sharp eyes narrowing. "You feel it too, don't you?" she asked, her voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of something more dangerous.

Kyle swallowed hard, his palms sweaty. He had no idea what she meant, but the sensation was undeniable. It was as if his mind had just unlocked a door he didn’t even know was there, and beyond it lay power—the ability to influence the very thoughts of others. To control them. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, charged with a raw, untamed energy.

Without thinking, Kyle’s gaze shifted toward Yennefer. She was so captivating, so… commanding. He couldn’t help but focus on her—on the way her dark eyes glowed with an almost otherworldly light, the curve of her lips, the way her fingers danced across the parchment.

Suddenly, a voice—not his own—whispered in his mind.

You can control her. All you need is to focus.

Kyle felt a rush of excitement. Power, so easily accessible. It was intoxicating. The thought of bending someone like Yennefer—someone so confident, so powerful—into his will was overwhelming. He could make her do anything. Anything at all.

His hand twitched involuntarily. His thoughts sharpened, focused, and he let his mind stretch out toward her, brushing against the edges of her awareness. He felt her—her presence, her will. And he pushed.

"Yennefer," he whispered, his voice barely audible but full of ****.

She froze. Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as she scanned him, as if sensing the shift in the air. The world seemed to slow, the energy in the room thickening as Kyle pressed harder. He felt the power in his mind, pushing, tempting, changing.

He took a slow breath, calming himself. His power was real, but he didn’t have to flaunt it. Instead, he focused on something that would get him out of the immediate danger: getting Geralt out of the room.

“Yennefer,” Kyle said again, this time softer, his voice steady. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I don’t even know how I got here. But I… I need medicine, I think."

For a moment, Yennefer’s lips parted slightly, as though she was about to speak. Her expression was unreadable, yet the tension in her shoulders loosened, just a fraction. She hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Geralt, then back to Kyle, her gaze narrowing with a precision that made his heart skip.

Then, without warning, she turned her head toward the Witcher, her voice low but authoritative.

“Geralt,” she said, every syllable carrying the weight of a command. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

Geralt's amber eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening, but there was no mistaking the quiet resignation in his movements. The Witcher didn't question her. He never did. With a grunt, he pushed back from the table, standing tall and straight like a predator ready to spring. He shot Kyle a sharp, assessing glance, but didn’t say a word.

He just turned and left the room, the heavy wooden door closing with a faint creak that reverberated through the silence that followed.

The moment Geralt was gone, Yennefer’s gaze shifted back to Kyle, and the pressure of her presence seemed to intensify. The room had been bathed in an unsettling quiet, but now it felt as though the very walls were closing in on him. She was looking at him—really looking at him—as if he were a puzzle she was determined to solve.

Kyle’s breath hitched, his hand still twitching at his side. He felt something like a pressure on his chest, and though he was trying to remain calm, the power coursing through him was only growing more difficult to control.

“You think you can control me, don’t you?” Yennefer’s voice was smooth, almost playful, but laced with an underlying threat. She leaned forward just slightly, her gaze fixed on his, and Kyle felt a chill run down his spine.

For a split second, the room seemed to tilt, as though the very air had thickened, the weight of magic heavier than before. Yennefer’s lips quirked upward, her eyes glowing faintly with an internal fire.

“Do you truly believe you could make me do anything, boy?” Her voice was softer now, but no less dangerous. “You don’t even understand what it is you’re playing with.”

Kyle’s heart raced as Yennefer’s magic crackled in the air, but something in him—something deeper, primal—responded instinctively. Her challenge, the flicker of resistance, ignited a fire within him. The pull of power, the intoxicating feeling of controlling another’s will, surged stronger. And this time, it wasn’t just a fleeting sensation—it was real. His focus sharpened, his mind cutting through the weight of her magic like a knife through smoke.

Yennefer’s gaze flickered with a spark of uncertainty as Kyle pushed, not just at her thoughts, but into them. It was as though her mental defenses were a door, and his will was the battering ram that splintered it open.

“No,” she muttered under her breath, but the word lacked the conviction she had moments before. Her voice trembled ever so slightly, a crack in the facade of her power.

Kyle felt it, felt her slipping. Her control was formidable—there was no doubt about that—but he was something else. He knew he was different now. The pulse of power inside him, like a vast, untapped ocean, was no longer something he could ignore. He let it flood forward, crashing through her defenses with a **** that left her stumbling.

With an effort, Yennefer tried to raise a hand, as though she were about to cast a spell, but the words died on her lips. She froze. Her eyes widened, disbelief creeping into her expression as her body became rigid, her once fluid movements now stilted, as though she were locked in place.

“I said—no,” she tried again, this time with more ****, but her voice faltered.

Kyle didn’t hesitate. The power surged within him, and with a thought, he bent her will, shaped it to his own. His mind reached deeper into hers, snaking through the tendrils of her consciousness until he found the point where her control slipped, the weak point where her resistance shattered like glass under the weight of his intent.

Her eyes locked with his again, but now they were wide with something different—a mixture of confusion, fear, and awe. There was no defiance in her gaze now, only an awareness that she was being pulled under, helpless to fight it.

"I can't believe it," His voice more confident with every second, “I can control you."

He pushed harder, and this time, she didn’t resist. She couldn’t. The magic that had once seemed so powerful, so dominating, bent to his will like the strings of a puppet.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, her expression softened—her eyes losing their sharpness, her posture wilting. The powerful sorceress, the one who had torn through the Continent with her magic and will, was now utterly still, utterly silent.

The world around them felt quieter, the tension in the air dissipating, but Kyle’s mind was a storm. He could feel every ripple of Yennefer’s presence, every shift in her thoughts, like he could reach in and reshape them, bend them to his desires.

“You’ll do as I say,” he said, more to himself than to her, marveling at the depth of the control he had over her. “Everything.”

Yennefer's lips trembled, but she didn’t speak. It was as if her mind was still working, struggling against the invisible weight that held her. Her body, however, had already succumbed—her shoulders slumped, her hands still at her sides. She was trapped within the confines of his control, just like any other person.

“Tell me, Yennefer,” Kyle asked, testing the full extent of his newfound power, “who’s in charge here?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, save for the steady, rhythmic beat of his own heart. Her eyes flickered, the only sign of resistance left, but her voice—when it came—was calm, flat, like a marionette speaking from its strings.

“You are,” she whispered.

Kyle’s breath caught in his throat. A mixture of disbelief and exhilaration filled him. He had done it. Yennefer of Vengerberg, one of the most powerful sorceresses to ever walk the Continent, was under his control.

"Good girl," Kyle murmured, his fingers twitching in barely contained excitement. He could feel her, a vast ocean of magic and willpower, but it was now nothing more than a tool for him to shape as he pleased. The full extent of the power at his fingertips was staggering. He could do anything.

Anything.

As if to prove it, Kyle whispered the next command, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Stand up,” he said.

Yennefer’s body moved against her will, rising slowly from her chair as if guided by invisible strings. Her posture was perfect, her shoulders straight, but her expression was vacant, a strange emptiness in her eyes.

"Jump ten times! Now!" Kyle said, his voice filled with a mix of glee and disbelief at his own power. Yennefer's legs moved obediently, her expression remained distant, her body bouncing with each leap. The sight of her, so powerful and yet so subjugated, brought a smug smile to his lips.

He took a step closer, his eyes lingering on her tight, black dress that clung to her curves like a second skin. The way it moved with her, revealing flashes of pale, creamy flesh, made his cock swell in his pants. Each step made the details of her face, the skin of her cleavage, and the silent pants of her breathing more vivid, he finally stopped when he could feel the heat of her body.

"Stop." Kyle's voice was a soft command that echoed through the room, and Yennefer immediately ceased her jumps, standing before him with a slight wobble of unsteadiness. He reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin under his fingertips. He could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck, and a thrill of excitement shot through him.

With gentle, yet firm movements, he began to explore her body. His hand slid down her arm, across the swell of her breasts, and lingered at the neckline of her dress. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart as he traced the fabric, his thumb brushing the upper swell of her chest. Her nipples stiffened beneath his touch, and he smirked at the way she quivered, her eyes never leaving his.

Moving around her, he paused at her waist, his other hand cupping her ass through the tight material. She gasped, but did not resist. His fingers dug into her flesh, savoring the firmness and the way she pushed back against his palm. He squeezed, kneading the soft mound of muscle and skin, and she let out a low whine that made his cock throb.

He slid his hand up her back, feeling the tension in her body, the way her muscles tensed and released under his touch. His fingertips brushed against the zipper of her dress, and with a quick flick of his wrist, it was undone. The fabric fell away from her body, pooling around her feet, revealing her to be completely naked beneath it. Yennefer’s skin was pale and flawless, and his eyes feasted on her, his cock straining against his pants.

Her breasts were small but firm, the nipples dark and pointed. He reached out, cupping one in his hand, feeling the weight of it, the way it filled his palm. His thumb brushed over the sensitive peak, and she gasped. He watched, fascinated, as the pebbled flesh grew even more erect under his ministrations. His other hand traced the curve of her ass, squeezing gently before sliding down to the apex of her thighs.

He stepped closer, pressing his clothed body against her naked form. He could feel her warmth, the slight tremble of her breaths against his chest. He breathed in her scent, a mix of Lilac and Gooseberries, and it made his head swim with lust. Kyle leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. He kissed her, his lips brushing against hers, but she remained utterly still—unresponsive, like a doll waiting for its master’s next instruction.

His hands continued to explore her, sliding down her torso, her skin soft and warm under his touch. He cupped her breasts, feeling their weight in his palms, the nipples stiff against his thumbs. He pinched them lightly, rolling them, and her only reaction was a soft gasp that sent shivers down his spine.

With a grin, he leaned in, kissing her neck, her collarbone, and then finally her lips. His tongue darted out, slipping past her parted lips, but she made no move to respond, her eyes staring blankly ahead. Her mind was his to change, a canvas for his desires, but now he only wanted her body. He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming further, one sliding down to her mound, the other behind her neck to tilt her head back.

His fingers found her clit, and he began to circle it, pushing down with enough pressure to make her quiver. But she remained frigid, a statue in his grasp. Kyle’s excitement grew with every stroke, his breathing growing ragged. Finally he pushed her down onto the bed, her knees hitting the floor with a soft thump. The mattress groaned under her weight as he positioned her ass in the air, her pussy exposed.

He pulled out his cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so ****, so his. He rubbed the head against her folds, teasing her, watching the way she shivered at his touch despite her **** stillness.

But as he pushed in, he felt resistance. Yennefer's pussy was dry. Too dry.

"Ah, a little problem," he chuckled to himself, not bothering to hide his excitement. He reached down and slid two fingers into her mouth, coating them with her saliva before bringing them back to her sex. He rubbed her clit with one hand, the other hand sliding his lubricated fingers up and down her slit, trying to get her ready for him.

“Does it feel good, Yennefer? You can tell, but only tell, don't do anything else!" He didn't need to give her a verbal command as his hold on her mind was absolute. But it was a thrill to hear the words she would have said if she could.

"No... no! Please, stop!" The words echoed in Yennefer's mind, a silent scream of rage and humiliation, but her body remained a lifeless vessel under Kyle's touch, her voice nothing more than a trapped echo in a cavernous void. Her thoughts were a cacophony of protests, her will a feeble flame flickering against a hurricane. She could feel her cheeks burn with shame as his fingers explored her most intimate parts, her body's involuntary reactions only fueling his depraved delight.

"I am Yennefer of Vengerberg!" The name had always been a shield, a banner she held high, a mark of her untouchable power. But now? Now she was nothing.

The room around her blurred, her thoughts scattered like broken glass. Her eyes—their violet hue dulled—tried desperately to focus, to break free, but the weight of Kyle's control was suffocating. She could feel him inside her, not just in her dry pussy, but in every fragment of her consciousness.

his hands clenched at her sides, and they were stiff, unyielding. His fingers curled around her thighs, ready to **** her open wider if needed, his excitement growing with each shallow thrust. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking tight."

Yennefer's mind was a screaming tempest, but she couldn't move, couldn't react. The rage and disgust roiled within her, a silent storm that had no outlet. She felt every inch of him stretching her, hurting her.

"Fuck this!" Trying to get his cock into her frigid hole was so much harder than it sounded, and probably was a shit idea anyway. "Get wet, slut!" Kyle's voice was a snarl of frustration and power, the words echoing through her mind and body. Yennefer's eyes widened slightly, her body responding in that second.

Her pussy, which had been a bastion of resistance, suddenly flooded with warmth and wetness. Her juices flowed down her inner thighs, soaking the bed sheets beneath her. "Fuck yea! That is what I’m talking about!" Kyle's voice was filled with triumph.

He plunged into her, his thick cock sliding through her folds with ease now, her wetness coating him as he pushed deeper. He could feel the tightness of her, the way she was trying to fight him even as she grew wetter. But it was useless.

He began to fuck her with long, deep strokes, his hips pistoning into her as he leaned over, his hand grabbing her hair for better leverage. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, Yennefer's felt his fat cock fill her completely, stretching her beyond what she thought possible. And in that moment, something broke.

A tear, cold as ice, slid down Yennefer’s cheek, though she didn’t want it to. She hadn’t cried in centuries. She had forgotten how. But here, now, with everything she was slipping away, she couldn’t stop it.

"I can't... I can't fight it," her voice whispered, the words coming, "Geralt, Geralt please—"

"Geralt isn't here," Kyle sneered, his hand tightening in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. "It's just us, Yennefer. Just you, me, and my big cock."

Her pussy clenched around him, trying to push him out, but his grip on her hair kept her in place as he fucked her harder. She could feel the friction burning through her, the pain mixing with a strange, unwanted arousal.

"Fucking cum now!" Kyle’s voice was a snarl of power, a command that resonated in her core, and her body obeyed. Yennefer's pussy clenched around him as she orgasmed, the walls of her sex pulsing and tightening, her juices coating his shaft as he thrust into her. She bit her lip to hold back the scream that wanted to tear from her throat, the pleasure a knife-edge of agony.

He fucked her with an intensity that was almost brutal, her body moving in time with his thrusts as if she were a puppet with no will of her own. The room was a blur of shadows and light, the only thing real was the feeling of him inside her. The power she had once wielded with such grace now a prison, trapping her in a cycle of **** ecstasy and degradation.

Kyle's hand reached around her, finding her clit and rubbing it vigorously, sending sparks of pleasure through her body with each touch. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice thick with lust. Yennefer's eyes snapped to his, and she could see the victory in his gaze—the smug satisfaction of a man who knew he owned her completely.

"I said, look at me!" He slapped her ass, the sound echoing through the room, and for a split second, her eyes flickered, a faint sign of defiance. But it was fleeting. She swallowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. Kyle could see the strain, the last remnants of resistance trying to fight against him, but he pressed forward.

“You will no longer need to be told what to do.” His voice dropped even lower, becoming a smooth whisper. “You’ll know what I want before I even say it.”

Yennefer’s eyes fluttered slightly, a subtle but telling shift. It was as if she were trying to process the command, as though her mind was grasping for some shred of autonomy, but instead, it met nothing but his presence, like a tide pushing her further and further into submission.

“You will learn to crave my approval.” His words lingered in the air, and he could feel them wrapping around her like a web. “You’ll long to please me, to fulfill my desires before I even voice them.”

Yennefer’s lips parted slightly, as though she were about to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she seemed to draw inward, her body slowly relaxing, her breath becoming deeper and more measured. The tension in her shoulders melted, just a little. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Her will was shifting.

Kyle’s heart pounded as he took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You will no longer resist.” He continued, his voice barely above a breath, full of quiet power. “You will want to do this.”

Yennefer’s head tilted, her gaze softening. She was listening, feeling the weight of his words sink into her very soul. Kyle could sense her mind turning, trying to reconcile her own identity with what he was doing to her. But as she stood there, she was no longer fighting. She was thinking—understanding. And in that moment, it felt as if she were coming to some understanding, her consciousness aligning with his will.

“Do you understand, Yennefer?” Kyle asked, his voice firm but laced with an undercurrent of something darker. “You will not just obey me—you will desire to obey me. You will need to obey me.”

For a long, tense moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the quiet hum of power in the room. Then, finally, Yennefer’s lips parted, her voice softer than it had been before, but with a strange, almost submissive edge.

“I understand, Kyle.” Her voice was like velvet now, smooth and almost intimate. “Do you want to fuck my throat now?"