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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded	By : dschinny Category: +S through Z > Witcher 2, The: Assassins of Kings Views: 1938 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter 19 - The Leshen Awakens
Meanwhile in the wine cellar of the mansion, Velita did not even realize when she had passed out with her forehead leaning against the curved wood of the barrel. Whenever she opened her eyes or closed them, it stayed black around her. Her whole body hurt. Her ankles were sprained, the cuts of the iron burned with sweat that soaked the bandages. The rope tying her legs together dug into her skin as her legs were folded to fit into the barrel. The root the count had shoved between her legs poked her womb from the inside as she was bent over. At least it wasn’t moved anymore, it just… soaked…
She didn’t want to think about what Geralt had said about a leshen’s regenerative powers, the possibility it could re-root. If the leshen did that within her, it would grow into her innards, and she would die long before it reached its five meters original length.
The advantage was - her pain would be over then.
The painful stretch had subsided somewhat and been replaced by a burning itch. Every tender fold was sore and burned. Her butt was worst. It did not help that the count’s seed trickled out of her slowly. It stuck to her skin as well as the hay and litter below and itched as it dried. She tried to lean forwards and to reach down over her butt with her shackled hands to the strap that was tied around her thighs, pull the knot loose, or even nick the strap with her fingernails.
Her priority was to unlock the deadly remnant from her body.
But the rope that connected the manacles with a loop around her neck strangled her until her shoulders cramped so badly that she gave it up and just sat and breathed. Her head was spinning from wine and concussions. Her torso was covered in a mesh of abrasions she wasn’t even sure what was rope and what was the grazing of a rope. It hurt all the same.
She breathed into the complete darkness until an inner blackness took her out again.
She woke because she had to take a shit. It was still dark, she was still hurting, she tried to straighten her legs and bumped into wood that was around her …in all directions. Something stuck between her legs and within her clit. She wasn’t getting anywhere, but she just could not shit herself?! She tried to wiggle out of that position where she could lean against the curve of the barrel as she felt something pressing firmly on her nub that had not been there before.
That shouldn’t be there at all.
She flinched. It moved, adjusted in her folds, and attached itself to her clitoris again. Was she going crazy due to darkness?
Velita pulled herself together and realized that she could feel it acutely because the burn there had subsided. As she dared to concentrate, she also realized that it wasn’t the straw she sat on or the straps that were tied around her thighs. The structures were longer and thicker, they followed the crevice where her buttocks and thighs joined, out of her body, where ever sweat and seed had been gathering. The itch was gone. She quickly sat on her hip again, pressing her sore anus shut with her buttocks. She had to keep that shit in. If that monstrous growth followed the moisture in there, it would grow up and into her innards.
-oOo-
There was a slam of door above. “NO, PLEASE HELP, LET ME OUT HERE!” Velita yelled on top of her lungs. “FIRE! IT’S BURNING!”
The count ambled down the step, carrying a lantern. “They cannot hear you, stupid. And the only thing that could be burning here is that tight little ass of yours.” The lid was taken off and she was pulled over the edge of the barrel. Her torso was pressed against the outside rounding by a pair of strong legs. Her butt was in the air and there was nothing she could do about it. “Let me check it out. Oh yes, it started to grow already.” His fingers mapped the roots that spread of from the stem embedded in her vagina. “Can you feel it grow inside of you as well?” the count asked. - “No.” she answered and yapped for breath. - He slapped her thighs. “Say again.”
“No, Milord.” Something warm and moist hit her buttocks. He had spat on her. He inserted a finger into her anus, rubbed about and then penetrated deeply to feel along the leshen root. She howled in fresh pain, he laughed. “I rarely take second times, but that was a fuck to remember. Pity I have no time to listen out your sweet song. But tonight, I will explore you in deep, make myself known to my little leshen and fill you up again,” he stopped and considered something.
“I will even allow you to scream under my solid persuasion,” he continued fingering for a while before he withdrew. “I think you are right, it doesn’t grow further inside of you, but it sprouts where it was cut off, like an orchard tree… Oh, it’s moving already,” he was amazed, “C’mon, you lil bugger, come on.”
Velita felt the solid root was twisted inside her sore folds, “Stop, please, you’re hurting…”
“In here is the moisture and fertilizer you need!” - She felt that slim tip was inserted into her burning anus. The count was certainly hurting both of them. “Please don’t, it’s going to kill me if it grows up there.” - “Damn, I cracked it a bit.” the count commented from above. “Here, make yourself at home in there and suckle at that sweet moisture daddy put in store for you. I bet you can even spread some more vines from that crack.”
Afterwards, the count reprimanded the human part of his experiment from above, “You cannot tell such things until they happen.” While Velita could not follow his logic, her torso was pulled up again. “Back into the barrel with you and stay silent. I can slit your throat to shut you up anytime now. Remember the plan is to let the leshen develop some more before I resettle it into that glass vat, there.” Indeed, nearby, there was a big empty balloon glass with an iron intermesh around it.
“Once I took it out, you can go back to your work, eat and sleep normally. While your garden rests under the snow, you will make yourself useful down here in the mornings and evenings and feed it.” The count explained matter-of-factly, then pondered further, “Since your ass will already be occupied tonight, I will stick to the visual pleasure and watch it fill your pussy, plough your ass and spread all over your body. Let’s see if it grows to suckle those tits… while you get to worship my prick.”
“Milord, it…”
“Silence.” He clamped his hands over hers breast with bruising grasp, squeezing as if he tried to milk her, “You know better than to disobey me, slave.” he sucked and bit down hard, and she did not make a sound. “Well done. You are a survivor. Today’s target is marked,” he commented and turned to fill a goblet with wine from a nearby barrel. “Drink. All of it. That will help.” While she obeyed, he hung something on the edge of the barrel that looked like a filled sock. “You can suckle on that gruel if you get hungry.” The lid pressed on the top of her head, “Now stay calm and nurse my little leshen well.”
Upstairs, the door slammed again and she was alone with her mind on her neither regions. She could not prevent to feel it, penetrated, stuffed full, burning on the inside as well as the outside, rubbed… She had to take that shit now, immediately, to try to dislodge this fast growing bit from her body. She turned to the side and tried to no avail, moaned and pressed and exerted herself until she was sweating again. The salty moisture burn in her bruises, hey and litter stuck to her skin.
Velita realized that where the leshen touched her skin, the burning pain was numbed. Maybe it was digesting her skin already so she felt no pain? But there was that slithering feel in her clitoris, where it had probably started and that didn’t feel numb at all, just… soothing. She could actually feel it all, every minor twist, the gentle rub along her nub. She was so sensitive; she jumped at the tiniest twitch it had given her.
It made her extremely uncomfortable that the leshen felt nice and gentle actually. She was going crazy. At the same time, the finger sized tentacle was slithering further up her anus, and she could do nothing against it. She was not numb there; she could even feel the crack as a thickened protrusion. It pulled the rim of her muscles painfully at first, but then popped through without breaking the skin. It filled, pushed, prodded until it finally stilled …like it got comfortable. Something spread right underneath the muscle ring and then the burn suddenly lessened. Was it medicating her? Healing her? She stilled as well, breathing in the dark. “Sorry he hurt you, too,” she finally said. “I couldn’t do anything about it. Please don’t hurt me.” She felt a brief throb, then it stilled.
She rested her head against the barrel again, a feel of relief wash over her. The root that was following the fold underneath her buttock was growing and developed branches. On the other side, two thin vines started to develop on her right side. “I don’t know where to go.” she tried to put zero weight on them as the tips sprouted out underneath her butt. It was a very slow motion, but within the hour, her thighs, back and chest were covered in vines as thick as fingers. The sprouts had the purpose to stay close to her skin, always sliding through underneath the ropes that tied her knees together. “I know something’s gonna give, but please don’t hurt me. I just sit here with nowhere to go, I’m not hurting you.”
The thin strap that the captain had tied around her thighs snapped first, if it had been eaten or sawed or cut through by a vine, she could not see. It just snapped and fell away. It made no difference because the root embedded in her vagina remained, firmly held itself place by a multitude of vines that covered her lower body. An hour later, the thick rope’s brutal tightness suddenly eased at her knees.
The rope was slipping and she could breath easily. A warm wave of relief washed over her. The leshen shivered and throbbed, responding somehow. Could it feel glee? “Thank you, that feels much better.” She rolled around to kneel with her legs folded. The leshen went with it. She straightened out her cramped back, felt the circulation return. The leshen enjoyed the freedom of her knees apart. It did not slip out but adjusted within her and around her thighs.
Her skin tingled where the roots enclosed it and her hair stood up in a field that her senses could not pick up otherwise. She swallowed. She had felt something like that before. When she came skin to skin with Geralt. Maybe because they were both magical creatures?
“No,” Velita bumped her forehead against the barrels rounding, supporting herself as she cried. She shouldn’t have let him go… had that been yesterday? She had lost all feeling of time. She should have thrown herself at his feet and begged him to take her with him, away from this horrible place. She should have promised him to do everything he wanted. She could have asked for his favor when he had given her the opportunity to ask a reasonable reward, but she had been so proud of herself and her ability to handle things.
“Geralt would not want that, and you wished for him to be happy,” the voice of reason resounded, “and so did he.”
She cried more, her tears ran down her chin and neck and the leshen took to it, slithering over her breast and neck onto her face. She sagged at the gentle touch, relaxed her arms. And by that, the iron manacles came in touch with the leshen in the small of her back. It stiffened violently, enchasing her whole lower body like organic armor; it rocked and extended spikes all over its outsides.
Velita’s scream broke as her forehead was thrown against the barrel’s wall as the part of the leshen embedded in the litter under her knees inflated its tentacles. The lower iron ring outside the staves broke and the wood splintered. Her forehead was on the bare ground when she came back to her senses, her wrists up in the air, blood ran from many little wounds where the outside of the leshen had met bare skin. “Ouuu, that hurt. Iron, hurts us both,” she mumbled, “I’ll be careful. Please, forgive me, I did not know.” She felt the spikes soften. “I guess you cannot break those chains like the rope?”
The leshen slithered over her breast and along the insides of her upper arms, covered the bleeding wounds. It absorbed the spilled blood and stilled the blood flow. The upper part of the sprung barrel was still sitting above them like a tent. “Will you let me up so I can topple that thing? Careful, it got iron on the outside.” She wasn’t sure if it understood that, but the hardness of its grasp had softened altogether with the spikes. It let her up as she rose very gently, even held her up as she wobbled and searched for footing the stone floor with her bare toes.
Once she felt solid ground below, she pushed her shoulder into the bend and lifted the heavy wooden structure, nudged the vines aside from where she would topple the barrel and then pushed it away as far as she could. It landed behind the table with a satisfying crunch. Velita sunk to her knees again but kept her manacled hands up. The leshen expanded over the ground and nestled all around her. Once free, its longer tentacles slithered up to the wine barrels.
-oOo-
When Velita woke again, the leshen was still embedded intimately in her body. She felt no pressure at all. It probably drank up all body fluids her body would have spilled otherwise. But the leshen limited itself to that. It did not digest her living body nor did it penetrate organs. From the mass of tentacles it had grown in the meantime, Velita guessed that it had found an alternative source of nutrition. Maybe it drilled into one of huge wine barrels?
The taps were brass, not iron. She tried to stand, but the weight on her hips was immense. Somehow, she had to get rid of the manacles. There was the table and there had been a brazier below. Maybe if she got the poker locked at the handrail of the stair, she could find a lever and break at least the connective chain. She tried to crawl away and find orientation, touched a table leg with her shoulder. She turned and reached out with cuffed hands to where the brazier had been, in her memory at least…
And then the leshen took hold of her body and pulled her back into the middle of its nest by the legs. Its vines were thicker than her thumb and as strong as any rope, “Oh, careful with the iron!” she warned as she landed on her butt in the middle of hey and litter and the former bottom of the barrel. She felt the leshen withdraw from her back. She sunk back on the padding of dead plant growth. Her shackled hands where stuck in the small of her back. She rested her head on what felt like a tentacle. That one was already as thick as her lower arm and could probably break walls.
“Alright, this feels good, let’s get some rest” she agreed but apparently, the leshen had other plans. It spread her legs and raised her knees. It slivered all around her; even the far appendages homed in, slid over her body and searched for the few sections of bare skin left. She was wrapped up, confined but no longer cold. The parts within her started to pulse in tune with her heartbeat. “Please be still, I cannot rest if you do this,” she complained, “let me be.” But it just continued to rub gently all around her in return.
She felt sweat break out all over her skin, the pulsing root’s sound betrayed fresh moisture in her vagina as the leshen manipulated her body to spill fluids. She moaned and submitted to its overpowering strength and gentle touch. It did not feel bad. It felt heavenly actually. It would not stop down there. Once she opened her mouth to moan it even dipped in there as if it was curious, but withdrew at her teeth when she yapped for air.
It was hardwired to her body chemistry. It could tell if she was suffocating, in pain, in stress or relaxed and definitely knew when she felt pleasure. She was thankful that it preferred the latter. It was a quick learner of her body mechanics as well. It had brought her to the fourth orgasm when she started thinking that if she did not get it to stop, she would probably pass out from dehydration. “Stop it now, please! I need to drink myself.” She fought to keep her senses together, stiffened and struggled with her legs and the leshen stopped moving within her.
Apparently, that piece of magically animated plant growth got more brain than count and captain together. After all, non-verbal arrangements and compromises were possible.
-oOo-
Velita had to find something to drink. Being in a wine cellar wasn’t automatically a good thing for a dehydrated woman with low alcohol tolerance. She tried to remember where the fresh apple juice was stored. Had she seen something, smelled something? No, the juice was still brewing in the barn. She could not remember if the Count had placed a bucket or tankard of water in this makeshift prison cell. But then, his preparation had considered control, experimenting and pain only, not care for the person he locked up.
She remembered a storage shelf for bottles at the far side, but it would be difficult to drag the leshen there and she had no means to open a bottle, especially not with her hands tied. The taps of the barrels were her aim. Get there; drink enough for nutrition but not so much she knocked out herself. Self control was the key. The count would be back and she wanted the surprise to be on his side entirely. If he saw how much the leshen had grown, he would probably run off or kill her, torch the place or just lock her up to die.
She had to let him enter and get a hold of him to get the keys for the door he always locked from the inside.
Within the nest of tentacles as thick as her arms, she rolled to her knees and tried to crawl to where she expected the taps. The growth on her body she had to lift off the ground was about a third of her own weight, but on the floor it was a nest of four times her weight. While she could not move a muscle without the leshen’s tolerance, she had some leeway as long as the leshen decided to move with her. It was a drag, but finally, her head bumped into …a wall? Shouldn’t there be barrels along that wall? She had lost her orientation in the pitch black darkness.
She continued to crawl around, getting splinters of the cracked barrel into her knees, and then the leshen suddenly stiffened. She stopped immediately “What’s wrong?” she swayed her head from side to side. With her hands shackled behind her back, she could not feel out for it. She lowered her torso to the ground. At her shoulder, the leshen was not covering the floor, there was just cold stone underneath. She scrambled forwards a bit more “What is there?” her jaw touched something cold and smooth, covered in a mesh of braided wire. The glass vat.
“I can see you are afraid of this. For good reason. We don’t like being locked up.” She used the back of her head to kick it away from the nest for good measure. The glass shattered within the wire mesh. “That’s what we are going to do with all prisons,” she stated firmly. “Now let me drink. We have to get stronger.” She turned to the right, bumped into the length of a barrel first, crawled around and along the aisle and found the tap. She opened it slightly, felt the wine drip over her cuffed hands, turned around and bent down to drink, making quite a mess of herself with the sweet red wine.
But she no longer cared about looks.
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded