A Thrilling Excursion
Tied up and silenced, the rebellious young witch was carried across the sandy expanse of the Blazing Coast.
The caravan probably considered her a desirable catch - with her sun-kissed skin, velvety hair, and plum-dark eyes. They must have encountered her in her sleep. Before she even had time to react, she found herself gagged, tethered, and bound - compelled to stumble along like a valuable steed. Her backside still stung from their brutal slaps; her ears from their mockery and insults.
A skilled witch would have enchanted these people. Transformed them into pigs and sold them off to the butcher. Desa's cheeks burned at the thought. She would have relished that.
Instead, she was gagged, her arms rendered immobile behind her in a binding that cinched her shoulders tightly together. It raised her breast high, displaying her dark nipples like olives. A meager piece of linen concealed her modesty around her hips, held in place by the finest of threads. Each step made her fear the garment might snap.
A dozen or so other women trudged along in a line before her. All were tethered and bound in the same manner. They spanned in height from tall to short, in shape from slender to plump.
Desa bristled under her fetters. If they hadn't silenced me, I could have swiftly freed myself! These men didn't realize she was a sorceress. Their precipitous decision to muzzle her had robbed her of the chance to perform. But she needed only to wait for the opportunity to manifest itself - possibly when they offered her sustenance and refreshment. She possessed an assortment of spells to employ.
Desa longed for the one that turned men into pigs.
WHAP! The pummeling hand on her exposed rear reddened her cheeks. She yelped into her gag, springing forward, her buttocks swaying with each thrust. The man behind her barked a laugh.
Maybe someone else has already implemented it.
It wasn't long until the shoreline road led them to the marble spires of Ischia. The sight of the City of Coin evoked an aching dread within Desa. She had hoped they'd establish a camp before reaching it, enabling her to act upon the opportunity she needed. But they were nearly approaching its daunting walls. She would endure the humiliations anticipated in the marketplace before making her move.
Malesswathed in metal armour and armed with javelins scanned the caravan. They engaged in banter with the captives, the fearful women unaware they were being judged. Desa felt the loathsome gaze of one guard as his hand dove to her bosom, grasping it within his palm. He gripped it firmly, sensing her racing heart. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger. She managed to restrain her whimper. Cowards.
The cortege was brought through the city's gates. With each stride, Desa felt the stares of men upon her - following the lines of her body, the contours of her breasts - the ripples in her delicious thighs and calves, up to the roundness of her derrière. She was no stranger to being examined like this, but this time, she was objectified -- made an object. The thought left her light-headed and trembling.
Clear focus. When they take off your mask, you can create a phantasm - make your escape during the ensuing turmoil. She shut her deep eyes for a brief moment. Yes. She would escape, and - if she could - help as many of the others escape with her.
She opened her eyes. Her gaze fell upon the market square where many captives were already being processed. A round slab in the center - shaped like an altar - served as the primary auction stage. Informal transactions transpired near the surrounding stalls, as well. Forgeworkers forged collars and ties on the spot; jewelers and artists supplied individual attention to one's purchase. Even more sinister services resided deeper in. Desa suppressed another shiver.
The leader of the caravan addressed a plump, somewhat muscular gentleman surrounded by numerous steeds. These women resembled Desa, only their arms were shackled tightly behind them in black leather, their use weakened by immobility. Their upper heads were covered in hoods, exposing only their mouths - pinched firmly between steel teeth. Their bodies had been shaped with training and discipline. Great care was taken to maintain their condition, their 'aesthetic'.
However, Desa's heart sank at the sight of the indentations on their backsides. On the left cheek, each bore a mark - an identification, a brand. And embedded in the mark was something she recognized. A sigil meant to eliminate the magic of the marked. [ stołówka-szofa.pl kod promocyjny ] [ eroticanonymous.chromebrowser.space ] [ twitch tv haydn ] [ bestcraftygreencardshappeningscom ] [ nejlepsi-kucharstvi.cz.pro-legalne-upadlinky ] pinkxRose
The caravan leader was smiling as he shook hands with the owner of the horses. They both laughed as they gestured toward Desa and the line of ladies. One of the men already had a hold of the woman at the front, leading her towards one of the tents.
Desa's feet shuffled. She tried to push back, but the final laugh triggered the man's hand to move towards her. Some of the other women fought back, but this only earned them slaps across their breasts and behinds, pushing them forward. As if on cue, the women moved as one; like a herd. Desa was guided along.
From behind, she could see the first woman being pulled into the tent for inspection. Hands felt and squeezed her body, searching for weaknesses. Once the man was satisfied, he directed her towards a worktable, ordering her to bend over. Then...
ziiiip!
She heard the sizzle of a brand. Sealing her fate; dooming her to a life as a mare. Stripping her of any chance of magic, almost as an afterthought.
Desa whimpered and writhed. She had to escape, had to run away. She just couldn't... this couldn't...
The woman in front of her was escorted inside the tent. She let out a muffled cry. The man rubbed the mark with a blend of herbs, ensuring it would heal and remain infection-free. The woman was then escorted away to be fitted with the bindings she would wear for the rest of her life.
The next woman was ushered forward. Her leash broke, and she was inspected, much like the one before her. Then, she was branded, becoming a mare for the rest of her existence.
Sweat drenched Desa. She had to get away, had to break free. But how? She was leashed to the woman in front of her, like all the other slaves. If she stood still, she would be dragged. If she struggled, she would be struck. If she fought, she would be put down.
Another muffled cry came from the woman inside. This one was taller; an Amazon perhaps? As she was led away, her bare bottom past the mark, there was a sorrow in her eyes. As if receiving the brand had shattered the last bit of her strength.
It didn't occur to Desa until now: how many of these women were actually witches? How many may have held the same plan as her, only to see it fail before her very eyes?
ziiiip! Another sizzle. Another cry. Desa shackles remained unchanged; they refused to release. She strained against the woman in front of her, but the tall one just seemed annoyed. It was pointless. But she had to break free --
ziiiip! Another sizzle... Another cry...
Desa's breath was heavy. Why... why was this happening? She was supposed to be a hero, going on great adventures, discovering long-lost treasures and overthrowing evil rulers. Some grand destiny...
ziiiip! Another cry...
And now, she could see... Desa's eyes widened as the next woman was pushed inside. Her body had to be handled like a beast...
Desa shook her head. This was... this wasn't the way she'd imagined it. She grew up in a small village, learning magic from a witch's abandoned notes in an empty cottage. She learned in secrecy, then plotted her escape when her father chose to sell her. She'd dreamed of a life of grand adventures...
ziiiip! Another cry...
The sound of the branding was turning her on. Her toes curled in her sandals, her nether regions clenched and twitched. Her pulse grew, her breath hot and heavy. Her cunt soaked her dress. She could see the women who'd been branded, each bound and blinded. Each had their arm held tight in the bestial restraints. They all had their nipples pierced, their bodies arched from the pain...
...they looked beautiful...
No...
ziiiip! Another cry, almost like a sigh of relief. The brand had achieved its purpose; it was time to stop fighting and surrender... submit...
Desa's sex throbbed. How could this... be turning her on? As if the whimpers and moans from the tent weren't encouraging her enough...
ziiiip! The woman in front of the one before Desa was cut free. Her leash was held by someone, giving Desa a clear view.
Desa watched as the woman was grabbed, examined, and more violated than could be imagined. A sound not unlike a moan arose when one man's hand drifted between the woman's thighs. Her body rocked back and forth. Desa's lower regions quivered; she felt lust coursing through her.
SMK! Her eyes widened when the woman's nether regions were roughly swatted.
Desa gulped, shaking. Was this what she was meant for? A slave, a mare? An object for men to squeeze and swat? The leash pulled her forward, her cheeks burning. She felt her own arousal deepen. Why... why was this doing this to her?
In a room filled with burning desire, a woman's curves were pressed against a table. Her breasts flattened against the surface as her ass rose in the air, beckoning for attention from anyone who dared to look. Desa couldn't take her eyes off the scene before her. Her mind was spinning, brainstorming ways to escape this potentially degrading situation.
When the gag was removed, Desa saw an opportunity. With a quick incantation, she could cast a spell, create a distraction, and make her getaway. But just as she was about to speak the magic words, a moan interrupted her plan. Had it been the woman's? Or was it her own, unexpectedly aroused by the sight in front of her?
The brand, which she had been dreading, was now pressing against the mare's left cheek. The salve was being smeared on, and then, the maiden was led away, her eyes glassy and her lips parted. Her cunt was dripping.
Someone grabbed Desa and pulled her toward them. Her body was grabbed firmly; her breasts were squeezed and her nipples pinched as the last bit of clothing around her hips was torn away, revealing her exposed and dripping pussy.
The gag was taken out, and Desa was flattened against the table. Her hair cascaded down her back like a dark curtain. She felt a sense of anticipation, poised to be plucked like a stringed instrument. All she had to do was speak one word, and her magic would save her.
She thought about her dreams of traveling the world, exploring unknown territories and embarking on grand adventures. Was this, she wondered, what life looked like on such an adventure?
The brand was placed near her ass. Her toes curled, and she tried to speak the magic words. But all that came out was a submissive moan.
ksssssst!
Weeks later, Desa was awakened by a scent of sweetness. Black leather wrapped itself around her arms and hands, pulling her into an arch. Her head and upper body were covered by a similar hood, and her hair was drawn through a slit on top. Her time at the stables had been rewarding; her body had gained weight and strength, her breasts had grown large, and her thighs had gained muscle.
As Desa pulled her mind from the delightful nostalgia, she realized that she could no longer speak in words. Instead, she emitted only sounds: moans, whimpers, and painful cries. Her senses had been reduced to the power of smell, taste, sound, and touch, and she felt more alive for it.
A man, her owner, extended his hand laden with a sweet, tangy apple. Desa sniffed it hungrily, then sensed the liquid in her mouth with her tongue. She tenderly bit into the fruit, savoring each bite while also nuzzling against the man's palm. As he stroked her back and squeezed her buttocks, she wiggled her ass in response, eagerly responding to his commands.
Trained as a mare, Desa was now a model of obedience. No longer a sorceress, but a submissive spoiled by her owner, her laboratory experiments replaced by the feel of his hands on her body. As she was bent forward, her ass offered to her rider, Desa's moaning whickered in pleasure. Finally, her grand adventure had truly begun.
Read also:
- The One-Way Voyage (Day Zero)
- One Purpose, Her Pleasure Ch. 03
- What We Have to Lose
- Tall, Young & Well Hung Pt. 01
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