The Witcher: The Hidden Scene (TV-MA)
ACT ONE: INTRODUCTION
Geralt of Rivia and his young ward, Ciri, journeyed through the rugged terrain, training and honing their skills as they went. The Witcher’s gravelly voice cut through the air as he spoke to Ciri, imparting his wisdom.
“Remember, Ciri,” Geralt said, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight, “you must always be prepared, always be ready to fight, and always listen. Your instincts will guide you.”
Ciri nodded, determination etched on her face. But just as Geralt finished speaking, a menacing growl reverberated through the forest. The two turned their heads toward the sound, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.
In a moment of panic, Ciri found herself weaponless and pressed her back against a sturdy tree. The growl grew louder, filling her ears with primal intensity. With a misstep, she lost her footing and tumbled down a small incline, her face colliding with a sharp rock.
Blood trickled from Ciri’s cheek, a deep gash marking her fair skin. Pain flared through her, but she fought back tears, refusing to let her fear overwhelm her.
As if by fate, a robed figure appeared on the path. The figure approached cautiously, her hood hiding her features. With a gentle touch, she pushed back her hood, revealing a pretty face framed by curly brown hair sprinkled with freckles.
“I couldn’t help but notice your fall,” the woman said, her voice soothing. “My name is Triss, and I happen to be heading to Kaer Morhen. I can offer you aid and accompany you on your journey.”
Ciri eyed Triss warily, her caution still lingering. Yet, something in the woman’s demeanor seemed genuine and trustworthy. Ciri hesitated but ultimately nodded, accepting Triss’s offer of help.
Triss’s voice carried a soft enchantment as she invoked her healing magic, her hands glowing with a warm light. With careful precision, she closed the wound on Ciri’s cheek, leaving no trace of the deep gash behind.
Just as Triss finished healing Ciri, Geralt emerged from the forest, carrying a large wild boar slung over his shoulder. His eyes met Triss’s, and a flicker of recognition passed between them—a long-forgotten romance reigniting for a brief moment.
Geralt approached Ciri and Triss, concern etched on his rugged face. “Ciri, are you alright? What happened?”
Ciri smiled, the pain now subsided. “I stumbled, but Triss helped me. She’s on her way to Kaer Morhen, like us.”
Geralt glanced at Triss, his eyes betraying a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Is that so? It will be good to have you back, Triss.”
“Wait, you know her,” Ciri said shocked, “I thought Whichers kept Kate Morhen a secret from outsiders?”
Gerald smiled at Ciri, “Triss has helped Whitchers in the past heal and I thought she could help you learn how to hone your powers of foresight well.”
With the tension momentarily lifted, the three travelers continued their journey, Ciri walking alongside Geralt and Triss. The conversation flowed effortlessly, tales of past adventures blending with hopeful plans for the future.
As the day drew to a close, they reached their destination—a castle nestled amidst the towering mountains of Kaer Morhen. The familiar sight brought a mix of nostalgia and anticipation to Geralt, reminding him of the ties that bound him to his Witcher brethren.
The evening settled upon them, and a hearty feast awaited in the castle’s grand hall. Around the table, eight Witchers gathered, their presence a comforting reminder of the bonds forged through trials and shared experiences. Ciri and Triss sat among them, welcomed into this unique family.
As the feast commenced, wine flowed and laughter filled the air. Geralt’s gaze wandered to Triss. Her beauty was captivating. Behind her royal purple coat, her light brown curly hair framed her face. Her brown eyes were mysterious pools that showed the wisdom of her soul. Like Whitchers, mages lived for hundreds of years but she didn’t look older than she was 30. Her flowing cloak opened up to reveal her curvaceous frame designed to illicit desire and used to control generations of weak-minded kings. Triss had once saved Geralt and in return, they shared a passionate embrace that he was since not experienced. He wondered if her body could still resist the raw untamed power of a lustful Witcher.
Drinks flowed freely at the feast and the celebrations quickly turned loud and boastful. Lambert, a Witcher, raised his mug and cheered, “To our luck, our women have doubled and our Ale has been tapped!” The men cheered the arrival of Triss and eyed the young and beautiful Ciri who has proven that she has the will to learn the ways of the Witchers by endless training.
Coen and Lambert had taken a particular interest in Ciri over the past several weeks. At first, they thought she was just a spoiled princess and had no reservations about telling her such. But there was something special about her, more than just being Geralt’s ward, she was rebellious and strong-willed. As they taunted her to train harder, she did despite the pain that was inflicted. They both watched this young girl brave the Witcher trials, even without their mutant powers of strength and healing. She was unlike other girls and piqued their interest and curiosity. They loved that she yearned for acceptance and knew it was a tool they could use to influence her.
Lambert watched the young beautiful woman drinking their mead and dancing among the men. All of their eyes followed her young body, gliding sensually through the room, carefree. Among men who hunted demons, she was a breath of fresh air, a prize of innocence and beauty that rarely graced these halls. He hoped to separate her from the protection of Geralt, his desires cloaked in friendship. A mischievous grin crossed his face as she danced with his friend Coen. He had a plan to see how far she would go to feel accepted.
As the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden hue over the castle grounds of Kaer Morhen, Geralt’s paternal instincts kicked in. He glanced at the horizon, noting the fading light, and turned his attention to Ciri.
“Ciri,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, “it’s time for you to go to bed. You need your rest.”
Ciri’s eyes widened with disappointment. “But Geralt, the night is still young! Can’t I stay up a little longer?”
Geralt softened his expression, understanding her desire for adventure and companionship. “Ciri, I know you want to be part of the festivities, but we have much to do. You need to be well-rested and ready for tomorrow’s training.”
ACT TWO: THE GAME
Reluctantly, Ciri nodded, knowing that Geralt’s words carried wisdom. She bid farewell to the living hall and made her way to her room, her steps heavy with longing for the excitement she would be missing.
With sly grins, Coen and Lambert exchanged knowing looks, then turned their attention to Ciri. “Hey, Ciri!” Coen called out. “We’ve got a proposition for you. How about a game of cards? If you’re lucky, I will even let you win a round or two”
Ciri raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the proposal. “A game of cards? You’re on! ” Confidence swelled in Ciri as she had a knack for most card games. Unbeknownst to her, her power of foresight which always felt like intuition wasn’t going to help her in these enchanted halls.
There was something about these men that made Ciri’s heart skip a beat. Their charisma and the twinkle of danger in their eyes were irresistible.
The first was a handsome bald black man named Coen, his presence commanded attention. His kind eyes, one amber and the other a striking blue, sparkled with a glint of adventure.
The second Witcher was Lambert, a rugged redhead with fiery curls cascading down his shoulders. He was muscular and intimidating, unlike most Witcher who didn’t share their emotions freely, he was much more fiery and was direct about what he liked and didn’t like. It was something special about him, his raw emotions, that drew her to him. His freckled face displayed a roguish charm, and his piercing amber eyes held a glimmer of mischief.
As they walked to her room Ciri asked, “What should we play for? More mead?”
Lambert’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I will get us more mead, that’s not a prize. Let’s agree that the loser has to surrender something….an article of clothing or a dare.”
Ciri’s eyes widened in surprise, but a thrill surged through her. The prospect of playing a daring game with these Witchers enticed her. “Alright, I’m in. But be warned, I’m quite skilled at cards.”
Coen chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”
They made their way to Ciri’s room, where a small table was set up with a deck of cards. The rooms in the old castle were made of stone and the cold air flowed through cracks in the wall. The room was stark except for a straw bed covered in cloth, and a candle-lit chandelier that hung above them. Honestly, the room could have been a dungeon in Ciri’s castle at home, but she made the best of Geralt’s hospitality. The room was bathed in a soft, flickering candlelight, creating an intimate atmosphere.
As they played, Ciri’s skills shone through. Her strategy was impeccable, and her moves calculated. Ciri found herself winning some hands, her luck seemingly favoring her at the start, but she felt something was off, it was almost as if her powers of foresight were blocked. The room was filled with playful banter and laughter as Coen and Lambert, the two Witchers, engaged in the game. Ciri, in the first couple of hands, was able to get the men to remove their shirts and pants. She couldn’t help but notice their impressive physiques, their battle-scarred bodies a testament to their years of training and combat. The sight of their rippling muscles and strong forms intrigued her, igniting a newfound desire within her.
But soon the tides turned. With each round, Ciri’s clothing pile grew, revealing glimpses of skin as she lost key hands. The Witchers’ laughter filled the room, their teasing banter adding to the tension of the game.
Time passed, and Ciri found herself down to her last garment as she slowly removed her bra. Her cute young breasts hung like teardrops, full and supple, begging to be touched. Her nipples were pink and erect due to the coldness of the room, the puffy tips drawing the eyes of the men who salivated at the beacons sensually. She tried to cover herself up but each time she looked at her cards her hands left her breasts hung exposed. A mixture of frustration and curiosity welled within her. Ciri recognized another side of these men, their lustful gaze empowered her. She wasn’t a spoiled brat in their eyes, she was something more and she loved how the tables had turned as they yearned for her.
As the game drew closer to its end, Ciri and the Witchers found themselves down to their last articles of clothing. The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation and subtle tension. Ciri’s gaze lingered on Coen and Lambert, their partially exposed skin revealing glimpses of the rugged attractiveness that lay beneath.
Coen smiled mischievously at Ciri. “Looks like it’s getting intense, doesn’t it?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
Lambert, his long curly red hair adding to his rugged charm, joined in, his voice laced with amusement. “Seems like Lady Luck is on your side tonight, Ciri. But will it be enough to keep that last piece of clothing?”
Ciri’s heart fluttered as their attention turned to her. She felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension, the heat of the moment fueling her desires. Her eyes met theirs, and a subtle understanding passed between them.
With a daring smirk, Ciri leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. “Well, I guess it’s time to find out,” she replied, her voice filled with a mix of confidence and curiosity.
Coen and Lambert exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. They knew they had sparked something within Ciri, an attraction to their dangerous nature and the allure of the unknown. The game had become more than just cards.
As the final hand was played, Ciri’s luck seemed to wane, and she lost the game. Her last garment, her panties, a thin layer of fabric draped over her pussy protecting her chastity, was now the only thing standing between her and complete vulnerability. A mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through her veins as she realized the game’s consequences.
Coen’s eyes met Ciri’s, a flicker of intensity passing between them. “Looks like it’s time to collect your debt, Ciri,” he said, his voice low and filled with anticipation.
As Ciri stood before the men, her last garment clinging to her body, they watched with heightened anticipation. Her fingers delicately hooked into the waistband of her panties, her eyes locked with theirs, as she slowly began to lower the fabric, revealing the treasure hidden beneath.
The men’s gazes intensified, their breaths caught in their throats, as inch by inch, her panties slid down, unveiling the curves that had been teasingly concealed. The fabric grazed over her hips, exposing the smooth expanse of her skin, until finally, they pooled at her feet, leaving her bare and vulnerable.
They were mesmerized by the sight before them. Ciri’s intimate secrets were now exposed, and they could not tear their eyes away from the delicate folds and contours that had been unveiled. Her hairy bush of blonde hair split in the center where her young wets slit met. Her arousal was evident with the engorged labia that begged to be touched. The allure of her femininity captivated them, stirring a primal desire within their core.
Her nakedness spoke volumes, as she stood there, a vision of sensuality. Her skin, soft and inviting, beckoned to be caressed and explored. The man’s eyes traced the gentle curve of her hips, the swell of her backside, and the graceful arch of her waist. Every inch of her body was a masterpiece, enticing them to indulge in the pleasures that awaited. The room’s atmosphere seemed to crackle with desire as the eyes of the men and women present fixated on her exposed form.
Ciri’s eyes gleamed with determination as she looked at the cards laid before her. She knew that victory in this hand could bring her not only the satisfaction of winning but also something special, something she desired.
“What do you boys say to one last hand?” Ciri said confidently, “If I win, then you both agree to be my slaves for a day!” She said with a smile.
“If you win,” Lambert said, a playful glint in his eyes, “we’ll be at your beck and call for two entire days! Whatever you desire, we’ll be at your service.”
Ciri’s interest was piqued. The idea of having the men cater to her every whim sent a thrill through her veins.
However, his playful demeanor shifted as he continued, his voice dropping slightly. “But if you lose,” he paused for effect, “I have something special planned for you. This room, you see, used to be a dungeon. Those eyelets in the ceiling were once used for holding prisoners.”
Ciri’s eyes widened with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation. The thought of such a thrilling, submissive experience made her heart race. She leaned in closer.
“If you lose, we will bind and blindfold you,” Lambert said, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “You’ll surrender control completely to us. You’ll allow us to explore the depths of your desires for one full hour.”
Ciri’s breath hitched as she imagined herself bound and blindfolded, at the mercy of Lambert’s and the others’ whims. She met Lambert’s gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation for more. “I agree, let’s do it!” she said, her voice laced with a newfound boldness. “I’m willing to take that chance.”
Lambert’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he nodded, a spark of excitement dancing in his eyes. “Very well then, Ciri,” he replied, his voice husky. “Let’s see if luck favors you in this next round.”
As the cards were shuffled and dealt, Ciri felt a surge of determination. She was ready to turn the tides, regain her lost luck, and seize control of the game once more. However, as the hand progressed, it became apparent that fortune had turned against her. No matter how she strategized or hoped for a miracle, victory eluded her grasp. The realization set in, and a mixture of disappointment and anticipation filled Ciri’s heart. She had lost the game, and with it, the opportunity to maintain her freedom.
ACT THREE: THE DEBT
Lambert’s gaze met hers, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “Well, Ciri, it seems luck has a different plan for you tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and tantalizing. “Are you ready to fulfill your end of the bet?”
Ciri’s pulse quickened as she nodded. “Yes, I’m ready,” she replied.
Lambert placed his hands on the curve of her lower back, this touch sending electrical sensations through her body. He guided her under the eyelets in the ceiling. She looked up, sense of exhilaration surged through Ciri’s veins. The room’s history as a dungeon took on a new meaning, the anticipation of what was to come sent shivers down her spine.
She willingly offered herself, holding her hands in front of her to Coen. The ropes were skillfully tied, securing her in a way that allowed both comfort and restriction. Meanwhile, with expert precision, Lambert guided the ropes through the eyelets in the ceiling, his actions careful yet purposeful. As the tension on the ropes increased, Ciri’s body responded, rising off the ground until her toes barely grazed the floor. She felt an intoxicating sense of vulnerability, suspended in the air, her bare figure fully exposed. Her milky supple skin glowed in the candlelight as shadows from the dancing candles accentuated her lovely curves.
Lambert’s hungry eyes bore down on her, “Ciri, you are beautiful beyond measure. I want to taste your lips and caress your skin. You’re intoxicating, and I want to savor every moment with you.”
As Ciri dangled from the ropes, her heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and excitement, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. The thrill of her restrained state heightened her senses. Ciri’s voice escaped her lips in a soft, pleading tone. “I feel so vulnerable, Lambert,” she murmured, her voice a seductive plea. “My body craves to be touched. I surrender completely to you.”
As Lambert approached her, his fingers trailed lightly over her exposed skin, from her neck to her shoulder and the rounded outside edge of her wonderful breasts, leaving trails of heat in their wake. “Almost my dear.” He holds up the blindfold with a smile and he covers her eyes.
The blindfold blocked out the world, leaving her with only her imagination and the touch of Lambert’s hands. She could feel his presence moving closer, his breath warming the neck of her skin. His tongue gently licks her earlobe, and his teeth gently rake against it, pulling playfully before letting go. He makes a trail of soft kisses down her long flawless neck following her jugular vein, each kiss causing the beat of her heart to accelerate. His mouth opens, letting his teeth scrape against her vulnerable neck as if to bite her, but instead kissing her sensually. Then letting their lips finally touch, he bites on her lower lip before pressing his lips into hers, their mouths naturally open letting their tongues explore each other’s depths.
Her body tingled with anticipation as Lambert’s touch roamed over her, a symphony of sensations playing upon her skin. The blindfold heightened her other senses, making every brush of his fingertips, every kiss, every whisper of his breath against her, a captivating experience.
As Lambert’s touch grew bolder, Ciri’s moans mingled with the sounds of the ropes creaking. His voice in a low whisper, “Ciri, your body, your spirit, everything about you is enchanting. I can’t get enough of you.” His hands cupped her full young breasts. His thumb glided over her stiff puffy nipples sending shockwaves of desire through her, eliciting a moan, pleading for more.
His fingers squeezed on the nipples tightly and twisted her, increasing her arousal. His warm tongue licked her sensitive nipples, darting rapidly from side to side before his mouth fullying consumed her. The warmth of his mouth, a contrast to the cold room, made her moans of pleasure get louder and louder. With every touch, Ciri’s body arched and quivered, surrendering to the pleasure that enveloped her.
Ciri’s body throbbed with need, her senses heightened to a feverish pitch. Every touch, every word, sent shivers down her spine, setting her ablaze with lust. It was a maddening, exquisite torture that left her yearning for more. She felt her skin flush, a delicate heat pooling between her thighs, a delicious ache yearning for release.
His fingers, traveled down the center of her chest, below her ribcage, over her belly button, and hovered for a few seconds at the hair on her pelvis. His warm fingers left a wake of goosebumps on her skin. His palm rotated, his fingers gliding through the curly hair of her sex, his middle finger sliding along her moist slit, parting her along the way. His fingers separated her delicate folds on their journey, soaked with sensuality before finding and gently tracing the outer ring of her vaginal entrance.
His voice dripped with playful seduction as he leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from her ear. “My, my, princess, it seems you’re as eager as I am,” he whispered, his tone laced with a mix of mischief and desire, “Your pussy is soaking wet with lust. I can smell the unmistakable scent of your desire. Are you ready to surrender to us for the next hour as you agreed?”
Ciri’s voice trembles with a hint of nervousness as she responds to Lambert’s daring question. “Yes,” she breathes, her words laced with a heady mixture of desire and surrender. “I’m ready, claim your prize while you can.” She said with a playful smirk.
As Lambert’s fingers press into her, he feels an intoxicating warmth and wetness of her innermost depths. He can feel the pulsating warmth enveloping his fingers, a tangible manifestation of her desire and arousal. Soft gasps and moans escape her lips, “Oh, oh my, oh, yes.” He revels in the power he holds over her pleasure, the way her body responds to his every movement. With each curl of his fingers, he seeks out her most sensitive spots, coaxing pleasure to surge through her body. He feels the subtle quivers and spasms that ripple through her.
With every movement of his fingers, he delves deeper, exploring the contours of her inner walls, seeking out the sweet spots that elicit gasps and trembling responses from her. He pays close attention to her body’s cues, adjusting the speed and pressure of his touch to heighten her pleasure.
Her words escape in fragmented whispers and moans, barely coherent but dripping with longing and ecstasy. She moans, “Oh gods, yes… don’t stop,” expressing her urgent need for his touch, “Lambert, please… more”.
Her voice quivers with the weight of desire as she creates a symphony of ecstasy that echoes through the room. Her legs, once crossed, now dangle openly allowing him more and more access into her depths. Every touch, every stroke, sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, and she lost herself in the delirious surrender of her senses.
A new presence made itself known. A rich and resonant timbre, “Don’t forget about me Ciri.” Coen’s voice joined Lambert’s in the darkened room from behind her. Kisses dotted her back down the nape of her neck to the top of her spine. As his finger gently traced down her shivering spine, to the lower curve of her back, and in between the crack of her ass. His palms gripped her round butt tightly, roughly, gently spreading her apart.
“Ready to take it to the next level, Ciri?” Coen’s voice carried a hint of mischief and anticipation, fueling the fire that already burned within her.
Ciri’s breath hitched, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, “Yes, Coen.”
Lambert’s fingers retreat from her vaginal entrance, making Ciri whimper for him. His fingers, lubricated with desire, find her clitoris and begin to rapidly press and rub against it.
Coen’s fingers penetrate her causing her to gasp in satisfaction. Coen’s touch intertwined with Lambert’s, their hands working in harmony to ignite a fire within her. Their movements were synchronized, Coen pumping fingers in and out of her while Lambert edged her closer to climax with clitoral stimulation.
Ciri’s body responded to their every touch, her desire mounting with each passing moment. She moans in delight with bated breath, “oh yes, your touch feels amazing! I am getting so wet, I love how you make me shiver!”
With her wetness dripping onto his hands, Coen’s lubricated thumb slides up her perineum against her tight pursed butthole. Ciri’s breath becomes more shallow, fear and vulnerability consuming her as she can feel the tip of his thumb pushing against her pulsating hole. Piercing the center of her tight muscular anal ring that can no longer stop his lubricated invasion.
Ciri begs, “Coen, I am scared. I have never done that! It feels uncomfortable.”
With the tip of his thumb squeezed by her sight muscle, he whispers in her ear, “Ciri, just relax. Let me show you how pleasurable this can be. You said you would surrender didn’t you?”
“Mmm” she said, As she focused on relaxing she could find the pleasure amongst the pain and began getting incredibly aroused by the idea of doing this. “Okay, but there is a part of me that’s a little scared. Can we take it slowly and make sure I feel safe and comfortable?”
“Of course Ciri,” he says as his fingers jointly press into her. The thick sphincter muscle surrenders and his thumb glides past its thick wall into her soft lubricated insides that are slick and inviting. His thumb presses against the wall separating her holes, his thumb and fingers press together, rubbing into her urgently.
Meanwhile, Lamber’s palm rests, pressing firmly against her pelvis as his fingers continue to stimulate her clit rapidly with side-to-side motions.
The collapse of her internal vaginal wall, combined with Coen’s repeated thrusts awakens her G-spot. Her heat rises further, she beings to sweat and pant as her climax nears its crest.
She admits to her pleasure, “Oh, Coen… I never expected this to feel so incredibly intense and pleasurable. Please,” she pleaded, her voice laced with desire, “don’t stop. I need you both.”
Coen, sensing he can push the boundaries says, “We won’t stop, if you let us call you our slut as we fuck you!”
Pleasure radiated through her body as he continued to pump into her. She didn’t care about anything but her release, “oh yes, I’ll do anything, just don’t stop. I am your fucking slut! Use me!!”
Her words hung in the air, charged with anticipation. Ciri’s vulnerability was matched only by her eagerness, her unyielding desire to explore the depths of pleasure with Coen and Lambert. The ropes that bound her served as a physical reminder of her surrender, amplifying her arousal and fueling her hunger for their touch.
Lambert’s voice, husky and filled with desire, responded to her plea. “We’re just getting started, Ciri. We are going to use you like the slut you are!”
Ciri’s body quivered until the crest of her climax broke sending waves of pleasure rippling through her body. “Oh gods, oh fuck!” Her body shook uncontrollably, the ropes creaking as she swayed in mid-air as they continued to pound into her. Liquids streaked down her legs as her fluids squirted from her and released onto the floor. “Oh, gods… that was… I can’t even find the words. It felt like my entire being was consumed by pleasure. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
As the electrifying tension in the room heightened, Coen, removed his fingers from her and slowly reached down for his belt. Coen’s voice, a low, seductive murmur, broke the silence. “Are you ready for more, slut?”
ACT FOUR: PLEASURE OF PAIN
Coming down from her recent high she was now willing to do anything that could feel that good. She nodded yes.
Coen traced the smooth leather of the belt across Ciri’s bare bottom. The gentle contact sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, causing her to arch slightly, inviting further exploration. The sensation of the belt against her skin sent delicious waves of pleasure rippling through her, heightening her senses and awakening a deeper longing.
Coen’s voice, a velvety murmur, resonated in the room. “Do you like how it feels, Ciri? The touch of the leather against your skin?”
Ciri’s response, a breathless whisper, carried a mix of desire and surrender. “Yes,” she replied, her voice laced with a mix of anticipation and yearning, “it feels… exquisite.”
As the belt made contact with her skin, delivering a soft, tantalizing slap, Ciri let out a whimper that mingled pleasure with a hint of surprise. The sound escaped her parted lips, a delicate gasp that betrayed the mixture of sensations coursing through her body. The unexpected sting of the belt against her bare skin sent a jolt of pleasure that radiated through her entire being. It was a fleeting moment, a brief burst of sensation that left her yearning for more.
Again and again, he hit her, harder and harder. Her whimpers echoed in the room, a testament to the pleasure that reverberated within her. The impact of the belt resonated in her body, igniting a fiery response that arched her back and caused her muscles to tense with anticipation. The sharpness of the slap was followed by a surge of warmth and a tingling ache that awakened every nerve ending.
With every impact, her body tensed and she released moans and gasps. Her moans filled the air, a harmonious chorus of ecstasy and surrender. Every breath she took was laced with the heady scent of desire. The ropes that bound her served as a physical reminder of her vulnerability, heightening the intensity of the experience.
As Lambert’s lips and tongue expertly worked their magic on her breasts, Ciri’s moans grew louder, escaping from deep within her. She writhed and arched against the ropes that bound her, the tension and restraint only fueling her desire further. The taste of ecstasy lingered on her lips.
As Coen’s hand firmly grasped her reddened buttocks, a surge of sensations coursed through Ciri’s body. The initial sting of pain quickly transformed into an intoxicating blend of pleasure and desire. The intensity of his grip, coupled with the contrast of his touch against her sensitive skin, sent waves of raw pleasure radiating through her being.
She reveled in the exquisite paradox, the simultaneous ache and pleasure that Coen’s touch elicited. It was a dance of sensations, where the boundaries of her pleasure expanded beyond what she had ever known. In the depths of this pleasure-pain dichotomy, Ciri found liberation, embracing the raw, untamed desires that surged within her.
Coen barked at her, “Spread you legs, slut! Your about to get a treat.” She did as she was told, she loved being dominated. Coen grasped his thick black cock and rubbed it against her saturated cunt, ensuring he was greased up with her lubrication.
Ciri, feeling his girth between her thighs, moaned with anticipation. “Oh, Coen you’re so big!”
As Coen pressed himself against Ciri’s exposed and eager body, the melding of their flesh sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. Her vaginal opening was stretched open. The forceful contact between them heightened her sensations, the unmistakable heat of his arousal against her sensitive skin fueling her desire to new heights.
Their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, a dance of passion and need. The ropes that held Ciri captive allowed for limited mobility, intensifying the sensation of Coen’s every touch and thrust. With each deep, penetrating movement, Ciri felt herself losing control, her body surrendering to the intoxicating blend of pleasure and desire that enveloped her. The friction between them ignited a wildfire within, consuming her with an insatiable hunger for more. She moaned as Coen’s rhythm became relentless.
Her body molded itself to his, every curve and contour a perfect fit. The powerful thrusts, the meeting of their bodies, sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward, spiraling through her core and igniting her every nerve ending. With each movement, they soared higher, their passion reaching crescendo after crescendo until they finally succumbed to the intoxicating release that awaited them.
As the intensity of their passion reached new heights, Lambert joined in, adding another layer of desire and pleasure to the already electrifying connection. He pressed his rod into her cunt as well, the burning sensation of her stretched vaginal opening increased the pleasure she felt, a pleasure of complete fullness. The synchronized movements of all three bodies created a symphony of sensations, a dance of ecstasy that left Ciri breathless.
“Oh gods…both of you are huge!…uh….it feels so good. Fuck. I love being used by you! Oh, yes, yes, I am you slut!” She admitted, knowing that it was true.
She felt the heat of Lambert’s body pressing against her, his every thrust driving her closer to the edge of bliss. The sensation of being filled by both Coen and Lambert simultaneously sent waves of euphoria crashing through her, overwhelming her senses and blurring the line between pleasure and ecstasy. Ciri surrendered herself completely to the rhythm of their bodies, each movement pushing her further into a realm of pleasure she had never experienced before.
She reveled in the feeling of being desired by both men, the intensity of their passion fueling her own. The room filled with breathless moans, mingled in the air as they indulged in the depths of their shared desires. Her body became a vessel of pleasure. Every nerve ending came alive, every inch of her skin humming with delight.
As their bodies continued to move with an insatiable hunger, Ciri felt a growing urgency within her. The flames of desire burned hotter and fiercer, driving her toward the edge of release. Ciri’s moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her body trembled with anticipation. She yearned for the ultimate release. “You’re going to make me come so hard,” she screamed, feeling the pressure boil over.
The pleasure built, the intensity rising to an almost unbearable level. In a moment of uninhibited surrender, Ciri let go. Her body convulsed with ecstasy, every nerve ending ignited with pleasure as she reached the pinnacle of her desire.
ACT FIVE: WITCHERS
A euphoric wave washed over her, cascading through her body in shuddering waves of bliss. She cried out in rapture, her voice intertwining with the symphony of their shared pleasure. At that moment, an unexpected surge of magical energy coursed through her veins. The power of her Elder Blood awakened, triggering a chain reaction that extended to the two Witchers holding her.
The men stepped back, confused. In an instant, Coen and Lambert felt a jolt of electrifying energy surging through them. Their bodies convulsed as the dormant mutations within them were ignited by the potent magic that emanated from Ciri. The black lines of their enhanced Witcher physiology rippled across their skin, veining their bodies with an otherworldly glow. Their bodies grew in size by ten percent, their muscles became more defined and their skin more pale. The transformation was swift and intense. The blackened eyes of the Witchers intensified, mirroring the depth of the magic that flowed through them. They became more in tune with their mutant nature, their senses heightened to supernatural levels.
Ciri herself was not unaffected by the surge of power. Her transformation took on a celestial quality as if her very essence merged with the magic that engulfed her. She radiated an ethereal light, her body seemingly transcending its mortal limitations.
In their new animalistic forms, they no longer had restraint. Lambert stepped up to Ciri, taking her hanging body and thrusting himself deep into her. His girth and size penetrated her deeper than ever filling her like two men couldn’t. Her legs wrapped around him as his claws dug into her thighs giving him the leverage to mercilessly pound his flesh weapon deep into her depths.
Coen, as well, stepped closer to Ciri. Her ass hung down as she was wrapped around Lambert getting plowed. His claws spread apart her butt cheeks and pressed his massive thick lubricated black cock into her tight asshole. He pushed his fat rigid mushroom tip against her hole, opening up her hips, and stretched her muscles apart.
Her ass burned, and her sphincter never had a chance to fight off his assault. “Oh shit! Oh, gods! You’re so fucking big!”
The head of his big cock popped into her asshole, getting to the lubricated soft skin of her anal cocoon, the sensation excites Ciri, pleasure radiating like didn’t know she could feel.
Ciri howls at Coen, pushing him forward, “Ow, yes,
you feel so good! I want to feel you deep inside me, stretching me out.” As requested he pushed deep into her. His thrust punctured deep into her, rapidly, filling her bowels like she had never felt before. The strong anal muscle stretched wide gripping around his flesh tightly, increasing his pleasure. She felt every pulsating vein on his rigid cock, each bump sending beams of ecstasy deep into her soul. Once fully buried, he began an onslaught of long deep thrusts that pushed any remaining air out of her ass. Her butt shook with the violent thrusts he impaled her with. “Ohhhhhh, fuck!” she squealed in delight.
She fought against the rope, as the men thrust into her, needing to take control deep inside. The bindings splintered into the dust of hemp above her as her strength increased with a surge of magic. Her arms wrapped around Lambert’s neck, her claws digging into his skin, her head resting on his shoulder as she savors their pleasurable assault.
As they continued to thrust, the physical pleasure intensified with each movement, sending waves of ecstasy radiating from the point of contact. The friction, the rhythm, and the intensity of their lovemaking brought her to the edge of bliss. Her body responded eagerly, arching, moaning, and surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure. She lost herself in the moment, the sensations consuming her entirely.
As the intensity of their passion reached its peak, Ciri became aware of a continued transformation occurring within Coen and Lambert. Their bodies seemed to expand, muscles bulging with incredible power. Ciri could feel the sheer power radiating from them, as their movements became even more vigorous and commanding. With each thrust, the intensity magnified, filling her with a combination of pleasure and a hint of awe. Ciri found herself completely enraptured by their newfound size, the sheer force of their bodies overwhelming.
Ciri screamed, “More… I need more of you both. Fill me, fill your slut, make me yours.”
In a final thrust, Lambert drills his hips deep into Ciri hitting the back wall of her vagina sending a spike of pleasure from her cervix to her mouth.
In a yelp pleasure, she begs, “I want to feel your hot seed in me!”
On her command, the Witcher releases a torrent of hot black magical cum that paints her insides. It shoots, like a spray from a hose, in a non-stop flow of liquids deep into her cervix. Her belly filled with his sticky goo, she could feel her stomach expanding as it fills her, the heat of the liquid setting her soul a blaze in rapture.
Spent, he stares at his conquest. Her ass was still impaled on Coen’s long thick black cock, his hands holding her by her breast. With each of Coen’s thrusts, Lambert watches as her cunt gushes a waterfall of his liquidy black release onto the floor. Coen, lifting her by her breasts and shoving her lithe form hard on his massive rod. Her moans are loud and passionate as she enjoys the pleasure of his girth sliding in and out of her butt.
As Lambert reached the peak of his pleasure, Ciri felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The knowledge that she had been a part of his pleasure, a willing participant of it, made her glow in satisfaction. He finally reaches his climax a few minutes earlier, filling her bowels with a jet of Witcher cum that pushes up her colon into her intestines. His girth locked in his seed in her so the searing heat of his liquids can be felt deep into her abdomen. Spent, he lets her down on the ground, her body like a rag doll, her legs shaking uncontrollably.
Ciri’s heart raced as she felt the ground below her. She landed on her hands and knees, her pussy and asshole pouring out cum that dripped down her legs. As she removed the blindfold that had obscured her vision, she was greeted with the sight of Coen and Lambert in their mutated forms, their bodies adorned with black lines, their veins pulsating with raw power. Their penises were already rigid again, It was a sight that left her breathless, her lips parting in both astonishment and desire.
She couldn’t help but be captivated by their transformed beauty. The combination of their muscular physiques, the striking black lines coursing through their skin, and the sheer intensity in their eyes was an irresistible sight to behold. The mutations had turned them into something otherworldly, an embodiment of strength and resilience that both fascinated and aroused her.
With her lips slightly parted, she longed to taste the power that emanated from their transformed bodies. Ciri’s lips brushed against Lambert’s flesh, her mouth tracing a path along the contours of his rigid form. Ciri’s tongue stretched out, touching him. She revealed in the taste of him, the scent of their passion mingling in the air. Her lips hovered above his massive hard-on, her breath mingling with his as anticipation filled the air. The intensity of the moment was palpable, as both of them knew what lay ahead.
As her lips descended upon him, she felt his size and potency in a more intimate way. His tip entered her stretching her jaw wide open. Her senses were overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of him, both physically and metaphorically.
The taste of herself, on his cock added a new layer of sensuality to the experience. As Ciri licked her essence from her lips, a shiver of pleasure coursed through her. The taste was a mixture of sweetness and musk, a tantalizing blend that aroused her senses even further. The flavor lingered on her tongue, a lingering reminder of the ecstasy she had experienced.
From behind, Coen pressed himself against Ciri’s cunt, her body responded instinctively, buckling under the force of their combined movement. The power and intensity of their union overwhelmed her senses, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her veins.
Her back arched as Coen’s strong hands firmly grasped her hips, guiding her movements and melding their bodies together. The sensation of his muscular form pressed against her, his large black cock drilling into her deepest desires, sent shivers cascading down her spine. She could feel the strength of his every movement, the raw energy emanating from him as they moved in perfect synchrony.
With each thrust, Ciri was pushed further and further down onto Lambert’s thick flesh. The seal around her lips she tried to create broke creating slurping sounds of slobber that echoed against the brick walls. The power she could feel pulsating from Coen and Lambert electrified their union. It was as if they were caught in a tempestuous whirlwind of desire, their bodies moving with an intensity that bordered on the primal. As the Witchers pressed into her face and her pussy, her body responded instinctively, buckling under their power, both figuratively and literally. Their combined movement and intensity overwhelmed her senses, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her veins.
Ciri’s hands rapidly beat against Lambert’s rigid flesh, yearning to satisfy him. Her throat relaxed, each time Lambert grabbed her head to thrust into her face. She allowed him to go further and further down her neck. Her magical powers gave her a strength she didn’t realize she had. She didn’t gag and couldn’t feel the pain of his long cock. All she could feel was the width of her neck expanding as his twelve-inch thick tool plowed into her face.
Lambert released a long moan of pleasure then said, “Ciri, I’m close… You’re driving me wild. Keep going, don’t stop.” Ciri could feel the pulsating rod in her mouth. She hungered for his satisfaction and applied extra suction to the large head of his shaft while her hands furiously worked his lubricated tool. She knew her prize was close. He howled in pleasure as his second orgasm shot out in a series of spurts into her mouth.
As the culmination of their passion reached its peak, Ciri found herself overcome with a sense of urgency and hunger. Without hesitation, she swallowed, taking in the essence of Lambert’s release. It was a moment of raw intimacy. In that fleeting moment, as she tasted his essence, Ciri felt a surge of both satisfaction. The taste lingered on her tongue, it was a taste that resonated deep within her, stirring a mixture of emotions—desire, fulfillment, and a twinge of longing. As she swallowed, Ciri felt a sense of empowerment and liberation. It was a choice she made, an affirmation of her desires, and a testament to her ability to pleasure.
As Ciri lavishes her attention on Lambert, his body tenses with ecstasy. His voice comes out as a ragged whisper, filled with a mix of surprise and delight. “By the gods, Ciri, you’re incredible. Your mouth feels incredible… You’re driving me wild,” he gasps. He can’t help but express his amazement at the intensity of the pleasure she’s bestowing upon him. The sensations coursing through his body overwhelm him, and he’s unable to hold back his vocal admiration.
Coen, his body still ablaze with desire, continued to undulate his hips, thrusting Ciri forward with a rhythm that resonated deep within her core. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, igniting her senses and pushing her further into the realm of ecstasy.
In a low growl, Coen grunts, “Let me show you how I can satisfy your desires, Ciri. I want to make you quiver with pleasure.”
As his strong hands found purchase on her waist, guiding her with a firm yet gentle grip, Ciri surrendered herself to the intoxicating dance they shared. The world around them faded into a blur, leaving only the palpable connection between their bodies, the electrifying chemistry that fueled their shared desires.
Coen’s unwavering stamina, a testament to his Witcher training and fortitude, plunged into her sopping wet cunt liberally. Each thrust was purposeful, calculated, and aimed at driving Ciri to the pinnacle of pleasure. With every undulation, Ciri’s senses heightened, her body responding eagerly. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, building with an intensity that threatened to consume her entirely. She was lost in the sea of sensations, her mind awash with pure, unadulterated bliss.
She begged for his massive black cock, “Yes, Coen… show me your strength, your power. I want to feel it all.”
Her fingers clawed at the stone beneath her, her nails digging into the cracks and crevices as she surrendered herself to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins. His thick black dick pushed deep into her leaving a wake of desire in its path, the muscles in her vagina quivered for the next thrust. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge, pushing her to the brink of release and beyond.
Coen, attuned to her every response, read her body like a well-worn book of desires. He reveled in the power he held over her, relishing in the way her body quivered under his touch, the way her breath hitched with each exhilarating movement. Her vagina was so tight, it hugged his fat cock like a warm wet sheath, he never wanted to leave her yearning cunt. His pleasure intertwined with hers, their connection growing stronger with each passing moment.
As Coen reached the pinnacle of his ardor, Ciri could feel the pulsating heat of his release deep inside her. A surge of pleasure rippled through her core, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. The rhythmic contractions of his muscles sent waves of ecstasy radiating through her, pushing her pleasure to new heights.
Her inner walls clenched around his massive black girth, embracing his release with a sublime mixture of satisfaction and longing. The feeling of his hot-cum filling her, sent shivers of pleasure cascading through her body, she was copulated by monsters and loved every second of it.
Time seemed to stand still as her ravaged body erupted in a final orgasmic release. Ciri’s senses heightened, every nerve ending alive and tingling with the electrifying aftermath of their union. She reveled in the primal ecstasy that coursed through her veins, feeling a sense of completion and fulfillment that only the passionate embrace of two souls could bring.
As they caught their breath, bodies still entwined, a profound sense of contentment washed over Ciri. She basked in the aftermath of their shared pleasure, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and intimacy that surpassed any fleeting desires. At that moment, she realized the true power of their connection and the depths of the love and passion that had brought them together.
As waves of ecstasy crashed over Ciri once more, her body soared to new heights of pleasure. A primal howl escaped her lips, echoing through the room, a testament to the intense rapture she experienced at that moment. The sheer intensity of the pleasure consumed her, overpowering her senses and leaving her lost in a vortex of raw, unbridled passion.
Her cries of pleasure reverberated in the air, a symphony of blissful release that mingled with the heavy breathing and moans of her lovers. Every nerve ending in her body ignited with fiery pleasure, each sensation magnified to an almost unbearable degree. It was an uninhibited expression of her most primal desires, an unrestrained outpouring of pleasure that transcended the limits of her physical form.
Her words tremble with raw intensity and euphoria. “Oh gods, yes… I’m coming…again,” she moans, her voice a melodic blend of ecstasy and surrender. The sheer bliss washes over her, causing her body to convulse with pleasure, and at that moment, she’s unable to hold back her uninhibited expression of delight. As Ciri’s body trembles with each wave of pleasure, her voice escapes in breathless whispers. “You feel so good,” she moans, her words a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. “I’ve never felt like this before
Ciri, fueled by her insatiable desires, turned her body towards Coen, her eyes locked on his form. A hunger stirred within her, a craving to explore the depths of pleasure even further. With a seductive gaze, she parted her lips, inviting him to come closer, to feel the taste of their shared intimacy.
As Coen met her gaze, a knowing smile curled on his lips, understanding the depths of her desires. He moved closer, his body drawn to hers, his desire mirrored in his eyes. With a tantalizing slowness, he positioned himself before her, offering his throbbing arousal to her eager lips.
Ciri’s tongue darted out, tracing the outline of her lips, relishing in the lingering taste of their previous intimacy. With a mix of anticipation and arousal, she took him into her mouth, savoring the mingling flavors of their passion. The taste of herself on him ignited a primal instinct within her, intensifying her hunger and pushing her further into the realm of pleasure.
She worked her lips and tongue with a practiced finesse, exploring every inch of him, relishing in his response to her ministrations. The taste of their shared intimacy, coupled with the intoxicating sensation of his pulsating flesh against her tongue, sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her body.
As Ciri continued to indulge in her desires, her lips moving with purpose and skill, she felt a deep connection forming between them. The act of tasting herself on him created an intimate bond, a powerful aphrodisiac, driving them both to new heights of pleasure and ecstasy. Ciri continued to pleasure Coen with her lips until she was sure he was completely cleaned off and polished.
In that moment of climax, the room filled with a dazzling display of ethereal light. Vibrant hues of blue and white intertwined, dancing and pulsating in a mesmerizing display. The air crackled with a potent energy, charged with the magic of their desires and the release of their passion.
Their bodies trembled, still intertwined in a blissful embrace, as the waves of their climax subsided. They lay there, bathed in the afterglow, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. The air felt charged with otherworldly energy, the remnants of their powerful connection.
As they gazed into each other’s eyes, they could sense a profound shift within themselves. The explosion of their combined elder power had opened up new possibilities, unlocking hidden depths within their souls. It was as if their union had awakened a dormant force, propelling them further along their paths of destiny.
They lay there, limbs intertwined and hearts intertwined, their bodies spent but their spirits ignited. At that moment, they knew that they had experienced something extraordinary, something that transcended the physical realm. Their passion had touched upon something primal, a connection that reached far beyond the confines of their mortal existence.
Silence filled the room as they basked in the aftermath of their shared experience. It was a moment of profound intimacy and vulnerability, where words seemed unnecessary. They reveled in the depth of their connection, understanding that their journey had taken a new turn, guided by the spark of their combined power.
As they lay there, their bodies slowly coming down from the heights of pleasure, they felt a renewed sense of purpose and unity. Their union had become a catalyst for transformation, igniting a fire within them that would guide them on their paths and intertwine their fates even further.
In that quiet moment, they shared a knowing smile, the unspoken promise of more adventures and passionate encounters yet to come. They were forever changed by this explosive culmination of desire and power, bound together by a force that defied comprehension.
ACT SIX: MORNING FOG
The man’s eyes fluttered open, their consciousness returning to them as they gradually awakened from their slumber. As their minds cleared, a sense of confusion and unease settled upon them, for they could not remember the details of what had transpired in the throes of passion.
They looked at each other, their brows furrowed, searching for answers that eluded them. The room was filled with an air of tension, the remnants of their intimate encounter lingering as a subtle reminder of what had taken place. The smell of sex hung in the air, a potent reminder of their shared pleasure.
Uncertainty gripped their hearts as they exchanged silent glances. They were unsure of what had transpired, unable to recall the specific moments of their passion. The fragments of memory slipped through their fingers, leaving them with a sense of disorientation and a lingering desire for answers.
With a mix of worry and apprehension, the men decided to retreat from the room, leaving before Ciri awakened. They knew that their absence might raise questions, but the weight of their confusion outweighed their fear of discovery. It was a choice made in haste, driven by the need to process their emotions and seek understanding.
As they stepped out into the corridor, a heaviness settled upon their shoulders. They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Their minds raced, searching for clues, attempting to make sense of the enigma that had unfolded in that room.
The smell of sex still clung to their senses, a reminder of the intimate connection they had shared with Ciri. It was a fragrance that stirred conflicting emotions within them – desire, confusion, and a hint of regret. They couldn’t shake off the lingering sensation of their encounter, nor the unanswered questions that weighed upon their minds.
As they distanced themselves from the room, their footsteps quickened, driven by the need to find solace and regain their composure. They knew that the road ahead would be filled with uncertainty, and they needed time to process their feelings, to reconcile the sensations that had consumed them.
In the depths of their hearts, they held a profound respect and admiration for Ciri, but the fog of confusion clouded their judgment. They yearned for clarity, for a better understanding of the events that had transpired and the implications of their actions.
With heavy hearts, they retreated into the night, their minds filled with a whirlwind of emotions. The unanswered questions lingered, leaving them to grapple with the complexities of their desires and the consequences of their choices.
And so, they disappeared into the darkness, each lost in their thoughts, seeking solace and answers amidst the uncertainty that now surrounded them. The memory of their encounter with Ciri would forever remain a mystery, a chapter in their lives that had been both transformative and enigmatic.
ACT SEVEN: CIRI’S DREAM
As Ciri slowly awakened from her slumber, a hazy fog of confusion enveloped her mind. She felt a lingering sense of satisfaction, an echo of something profound that had transpired, yet her memory failed to provide any clear recollection. It was as if she had stepped into a dream, where fragments of reality mingled with the elusive whispers of imagination.
The only concrete memory that remained was that of playing cards, engaging in a game that had seemingly set the stage for what had followed. The details, however, remained frustratingly out of reach, teasing her consciousness with their intangible presence.
As she gazed upon her exposed form, the bareness of her body a reminder of the depths she had ventured into, a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue swirled within her. What had unfolded in the depths of that dream-like encounter? What had brought her to this state of serene satisfaction?
Determined to unravel the enigma that shrouded her recollections, Ciri dressed with a touch of grace and adorned her hair with a delicate purple flower that she found in her room. It was a silent invitation, an act of seeking the attention of those she felt a connection with, even if the details eluded her.
With each step she took, Ciri felt a tinge of anticipation, a yearning to find the men who had played a part in her mysterious journey. She hoped that in their presence, the missing pieces of the puzzle would fall into place, unveiling the truth that lay hidden within the depths of her subconscious.
Yet as she ventured forth, the nagging sense of uncertainty persisted. The memories remained veiled as if locked away in a secret chamber of her mind. The truth danced just beyond her grasp, a tantalizing mystery that beckoned her further down the path.
Adorned with the purple flowers and carrying a silent longing, Ciri moved with a mix of determination and trepidation. She knew not what awaited her, but she embraced the unknown with an open heart, trusting that the answers would reveal themselves in due time.
She hoped that in their presence, she would find the missing pieces of her fragmented memories, and perhaps, a deeper understanding of the profound connection that had been forged within the realms of her elusive dream.
ACT EIGHT: THE NEXT MORNING CONTINUED
As Ciri approached the men with a hopeful heart, adorned in purple flowers and dressed with a touch of elegance, she was met with unexpected reactions. Instead of the warm reception she had anticipated, the men greeted her with lighthearted mockery, jesting at the sight of flowers and fancy dress.
Caught off guard by their response, Ciri’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Their words pierced through the delicate veil of her dreams, reminding her of the vulnerability she had revealed in her pursuit of their attention. Feeling the sting of their jests, she turned on her heels, her steps hastening as she ran away, seeking solace from the unexpected disappointment.
But just as her disappointment threatened to consume her, a familiar voice cut through the air. Triss Merigold, the mage, and a trusted friend, appeared on the scene. With her fiery spirit and unwavering loyalty, Triss came to Ciri’s defense, reprimanding the men for their thoughtless behavior.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” Triss scolded, her eyes flashing with a mix of indignation and concern. “Ciri showed courage in expressing herself, and instead of appreciating her, you choose to mock her.”
The men, taken aback by Triss’s forceful words, fell into an uneasy silence. They realized the weight of their actions and the impact they had on Ciri’s vulnerable spirit. Lambert and Coen exchanged glances, their expressions reflecting a mixture of regret and understanding.
Ciri, finding solace in Triss’s support, felt a renewed sense of confidence. Triss’s defense provided her with a shield against the harsh words and allowed her to reclaim her dignity. With a steady breath, she stepped forward, no longer allowing the men’s teasing to dictate her emotions.