Morgause awakens, some time later

How bad is Morgause’s new situation?

How Much - [6] Extraordinary

Failure Move - _[_5] Reveal an Unwelcome Truth - she’s become little more than a ****

Is she able to find a way to escape?

Yes/No (Unlikely)

[3,6] No and… she begins to succumb to her new status

—

The dream is fitful and strange, and clings to her as she emerges from it.

Vast and virile beasts pursue her through cramped and narrow corridors, their members disturbingly vast and turgid. They fall upon her, rutting with the flesh of her body, rather than her ****, aching holes. Arousing yet terrifying, she struggles to shake it off.

But what she awakes to is much, much worse.

Morgause finds herself bound hand and foot, stripped head to toe, not a stitch or patch for modesty. As she moves her aching, weary head, the only garment she can detect is a collar, leather and heavy, set around her neck and connected to a thick leash. Her jaw aches, and she feels rough straps encasing her cheeks, yet her lips are parted wide, and she can detect drool leaking from her distended mouth.

Oh Matron Mothers no… what’s…?

She’s dragged forward with a snap of the leash, and realises too late to do anything about it, that she’s beneath some kind of table. Then there’s a dull knock against her cheek, as something warm and fleshy hammers into her. She gasps, the noise thick and muffled by the gag that forces her mouth open. A moment later there’s another tug, and this time the unmistakable length of an erect cock shoves its way into her mouth.

She squeals in horror, eyes wide and staring as she searches for the culprit. Unable to move her mouth, she can’t bite - and worse, can’t form the words to a spell, as a small hand seizes her raven locks, yanking her head roughly over the cock in her mouth. It flattens her tongue, and shoves against her cheek, bulging it outward, swabbing its way around her helpless mouth, then forces itself easily to the base, and she finds herself inhaling the rank, musky pubic hair and scent of her captor.

“There she is, the lady of the house.” It’s Svartleby’s voice that sends a shiver down her spine, as she looks up into those beady, too-close-together eyes. Sat above her in a dining chair that his legs barely descend from, he seems to be midway through tucking into a rich-smelling dinner. A splatter of gravy falls from his leering lips, splashing against her forehead.

Morgause howls in rage, or tries to. But her mouth is plugged tight with the combination of gag and Svartleby’s girth, and all she can muster is a guttural cry of anguish.

“Cheer up love.” He croons in a vile, simpering tone. “You’ll come to realise this is a far better end for you than if I’d just passed you over to that rabble in the village. You’re safe and healthy and miles away from harm now. Here to help me enjoy my retirement!”

He yanks on her hair, drawing her back and down again, and continues the motion a few times, forcing the helpless witch to bob on his length, carelessly buffeting her mouth, shoving hard against her helpless uvula, and raising a spluttering gag from her, along with a shower of spit.

When I get out of this I’ll turn you inside out you miserable little toad. I’ll flay you. I’ll turn your insides to worms. I’ll… I’ll…

“You’re probably thinking of all the dreadfully horrid things you’ll do to me when you’re free.” He crows, slamming her head down painfully, his heavy balls slapping against her chin. “But I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen dear. Those are clever knots. Checked them myself. And you can’t cast your spells with your - there’s a good girl - mouth plugged. And you’ll be on your knees, or your back, for a good while yet. Eventually I’ll let you walk around when the house needs cleaning, you’ll be good at that. For now - oof, Gods that’s good - just be a dear and try to enjoy yourself.”

He shudders, pulsing against her tongue, and she can feel him rushing under the skin that presses against her. Then she’s slammed down again, and tears of pain and horror begin to leak from her helpless eyes, which stare up into his, pleading, and hating herself for being so weak.

She can do nothing but gulp and splutter as, with a groan, he begins to fill her throat with his seed. Swallowing desperately around his cock only makes him moan more, and hold her down.

When I’m free I’ll… I’ll…

But a little voice in her head tells her she might never be free.