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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
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter 22 - The Count’s Nightly Affairs
The count had dinner with the countess and chatted pleasantly. His wife had taken the news of the captain’s death first with concern but relaxed as he updated her with his plans for hiring. There were still two guards left who patrolled the grounds day and night and her husband was a veteran proven in the Redanian war. She showed the proper admiration and then asked if she could travel to visit her mother one last time before the weather got nasty. She reminded him that in spring, it would be too late because she would be due. He approved her request generously and she smiled and stroked her rounding tummy. She withdrew with regards.
The count was glad; he had better plans that had to do with red wine and a leshen.
Since the steward had withdrawn from his office, he went over to chevalier’s house personally to find his huntsman and organize his spouse’s journey. Usually, there would have been an exchange of letters but he wanted her to be gone as soon as possible.
“Good evening, Gernot… guardsman.” The count nodded as they stood to their feet. His hunter looked like he had made friends with a cheap bottle of wine, but the two of them couldn’t get quite drunk on one bottle. He was glad that he had the sole key to that supply.
“The Countess wants to pay her mother a visit tomorrow. Prepare the coach tomorrow morning after breakfast and accompany her - then return. Milady wishes to stay for a week at least. Her lady in waiting and the handmaiden will accompany her.”
“What about Anne?” – “She may keep Milady company. That will be her possibility to experience another big, well managed household.” – “I agree.” Gernot said. – “Her sedan carriers will help loading but remain here and do the winter preparation. The steward will guide them.”
“As you wish, Milord. Do you have further guards to help Sean here, maybe I should ride to Midville in the morning to bring in reinforcements?” – “No need. Three armed men will be sufficient. But we will keep the main gate locked until your return from Gubta.”
-oOo-
Since the countess’ travels were ordered and the personnel would do the arrangements, the count went to his bedroom to prepare himself for a pleasurable night. He exchanged the brocade doublet with a sturdy leather vest. He got a short hunting knife from a drawer for his belt, pushed a pair of riding gloves under his belt and donned two leather armor gauntlets. To protect his arms if the little one was getting prickly, but also to put them on the slave’s ankles in case he wanted to pull her up by the legs again.
Depending of its growth, retracting that leshen from the slave’s body could be a messy affair. He hoped that he would not have to cut it out of her caverns. He would do so if necessary, but use all other means of persuasion before that, even if his hands got dirty. He had scavenged a piece of butter from the dinner table he kept wrapped in a napkin.
Since the leshen was used to the taste of that female, the slave could be used to lead and control it. On the other hand, that slave had submitted her body without losing her mind. She was a survivor, and that made it just the more tempting to break her down. He would try to keep her alive to feed her to the leshen, experiment further with it. Once the monster was in the bottle and his master had its preferred food - to offer or to deny, he could start to train it by conditioning.
He had adjustments for the bottleneck that would restrict the leshen to slide out just the amount of appendages her pussy could handle. On the table, the bottle could fall down. If he placed the bottle in the litter and made the slave sit over the edge of the barrel and tied her arms on the other side, that would keep her open and available for the leshen, but he could not watch. If he kicked the seat plate out of the chair and tied her to the armrests again; he could place the bottle below and watch the leshen unfold and churn about her private parts. That method was simple enough for everyday feeding, but a bit boring.
It rankled that the whole effort to have her swinging on chains did not work the way he had imagined. He wanted to be in full control of her body and to see everything from all directions. He would provoke her to beg and watch her break down and finally lose it. He was looking forwards to ravage that ass again tomorrow, with a live leshen to plough her other hole. That would be an entirely new experience. Thinking about it, he also got a towel to use as bandage or muffle, whatever was needed to string her up successfully tonight? Torches. He wanted as much light in there as possible to see everything.
-oOo-
The count went down to the basement silently, listened for any servant activity before he rounded a corner. He unlocked the door to the wine cellar and slipped in as quick and soundless as possible so the slave could not alarm anybody before he closed the door from the inside. The lantern’s shine did not reach the cellar floor, but he could already hear a moan of a woman ploughed thoroughly. That soft guttural sound his women in wedlock denied him because they considered it shameful to raise their voice and announce his sexual prowess. Just another reason he was up to some shameless fun tonight. He set the lantern down and locked the door from the inside. He opened the lantern to light a torch and put it into a ring in the wall by the lower end of the stair and then he lit another. There were the broken remains of a barrel on the far side of the cellar “Serving yourself already, lil leshen?” the count wondered.
The count set the lantern down on the table and drew his hunting knife. The light of the torch moved over the dark stone floor and slid over the bare shoulder blades of the slave. She lay face down on the floor behind the row of barrels, messy brown hair splayed on the floor, hands shackled on her back, thumb-width vines slid over her ribs and underneath her, held her in place and fondled her bare breasts. Her ass was up in the air, her lower back covered by the leshen’s wild growth that spread over her thighs. She was rocked in a slow, sensual pace that made her moan.
“You already removed the barrel and rope to take some private time with Velita. Is she that tasty? Let me have a good look.” The count moved the torch over to illuminate the scene.
The leshen was afraid of only two things: fire and iron.
The intruder to its nesting place carried both and last time, he had hurt it. Arm width tentacles shot out of the dark, grabbed both wrists and pulled them up and apart. The count tried to kick, but the slave at his feet was out of reach already. At the same instant, the count’s ankles were not out of the leshen’s five meter reach and it caught the kicking boots to keep them away from the original source of life sustaining juices. It preferred those over the wine that had become its basic nutrition. As its sweets were about to be taken away, it reacted like a spoilt brat defending its favorite toy.
Before the count knew it, he was up in the air. His scream broke when he was thrown on the table beside the lantern. He was slammed down another time and lost his hold on torch and knife.
The leshen had not just grown to the size of his glass vat. It was as heavy as three large barrels of wine. The tentacles extended. It did not allow the count to move a limp, no matter how hard he tried to pull his wrists and ankles from that grasp. He slipped out of a boot, but a fifth tentacle took to his bare ankle quickly. At the same time, the slave rose from the ground and stood to her feet. The leshen around her hips crawled further up her body to the shoulders. It covered up her bare breasts and reached down her legs, down to her bare ankles like the trail of an elegant robe made from the materials of the wilderness, lots of strings attached to hold and ensnare.
“Where are the keys?” Velita kept it simple.
If she expected him to piss himself over a surprise and a bit of rough handling, she was sadly mistaken. “This experiment has been promising. I have come to retract the leshen from your body and set you free.” – “In which pocket did you put the keys?” – “You cannot get something for nothing, my dear. The leshen won’t touch iron for you. Make it release me and I will return the favor, I promise to take care of everything.” – “I don’t owe you. The keys.” – “So you can open the doors to my family and Gernot’s? I would rather die!”
“You enforced this symbiosis and I dealt with it. I am hurting because of the iron you put around my wrists. If you do not help me to find the keys and have me fumble around in your clothing instead, after all you put me through I might make a mistake. When my shoulders sag, it’s going to hurt the three of us. The leshen will leash out in pain and sprout spikes into my skin. That will be very uncomfortable for me. But the thick vines on you might dismantle your limbs. You will not survive such an injury. I don’t want the leshen to soil itself as it spills your blood, but I will not be able to prevent that much longer if you do not cooperate.”
“Did you hear that, leshen, your slave threatens to hurt you and keeps me from releasing you from her snatch?”
“You can talk, but the leshen feels everything through me.”
“Don’t you want to get a rid of it?”
“I’ve learned to live with it. It could remove itself any time, it just doesn’t want to.”
“You have become a monster.”
“…one of your own making, so stop complaining.” Velita kicked the knife away at the foot of the stair, leaned against the table heavily; rose to her toes and the leshen lifted her butt on the table. She moaned as she was penetrated deeply, but as she was settled down beside the count’s hip, the pressure lifted and she could start on his right pocket with shackled hands. She was drunk and fumbling. There was a ring with many keys and she had no idea which one would fit. She tried to sober up, focus at the task at hand but count kept babbling.
“Oh, I’m not complaining. I’m glad you don’t mind my little experiment with your pussy. I half expected you to be furious but you are such a sensible person. Enjoy the power within, go with the pleasure. Once you have exerted yourself enough, release me and I will help you with the manacles, set you free and reward you.”
“Lies and flattery,” she tried to imagine how the mechanism of the shackles worked, she had to remember how the keys had looked.
“Don’t insult me. Had enough fun at my expense? What will you do with the freedom ahead, slave?” He asked, but inwardly, he knew that she would lose her nerves first.
“You will stay in here while I leave this place. The leshen wants to be free. Once outside, it can detach and lead its own life in the woods, drink from clear wells and grow to its natural shape.”
“Haven’t you seen how murderous it was before?”
“Actually no, I did not. Besides, this one has never tasted an enemy’s blood.”
“But it tasted your blood, isn’t it? It pricked you.”
“It also healed me.”
“That is interesting. I did not know of any healing properties. But aside of that, it just allows you to move five meters and drink what I provided. It does not give you food, it even dehydrates you. I can see your hands shake. It makes you weak. Nevertheless you show compassion for it because it fucks your brains out every once in a while. But it does not make love to you as a woman, it just feeds on your body greedily, merely using you for nutrition.
You did not show that amount of enthusiasm when I bought you off the slavers chains, housed and fed you well, allowed you to move freely in a beautiful garden and allowed my guards caress you, providing a diversion from work once in a while. Back then you behaved like you were in need of a good trashing. I am curious what made the difference? Did you just wait for me to take you in that other way?”
“No. I just put up with the things I cannot prevent.”
“I did not do anything to you the leshen would not do. I offer you my help and yet you refuse. Why are you so afraid?”
“You hurt me many times.”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. I just bought you and let you accustom to the surroundings, then brought you down here for some truly exceptional sensual experience.”
“Maybe you should have one like that as well.” Velita put out flatly.
“Then you should end the lonely fumbling and start on me,” the Count offered generously. “I lend my body to you.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am serious.” The count smiled at her surprised face, “Go ahead, start with my clothing. You may undress me to get even.”
“I cannot undress you, my hands are shackled.”
“I’m glad you considered it. You could teach the leshen how to release my right hand so I can unshackle you completely. I will not fight you or the leshen. I would like to see you communicate because I just want to get to know you better.”
“You’ve got nerves.”
“Yes, and frankly, I like how this experiment turned out. You’ve got a romantic side.”
Her shoulders hut like hell, her wrists were bleeding and her fumbling got her nowhere. She would not make it upstairs to try the door with chained hands. Everybody who saw her would just freak out. She had become a monster indeed. “Alright, I will let you unshackle my hands,” she bent forwards and rubbed her cheek against the tentacle that wrapped around the count’s right arm.
“I knew you would do me no harm,” the count cooed in the short distance between their faces and smiled. The tentacle withdrew, but the count did not move yet, just looked at her face concentrated. “You like it that way, hm? Does it feel like a reward to have me drawn flat and helpless on this table? Can you see the potential in that?”
In fact it made her uneasy, “Just unshackle me.”
“No need to be rude, my dear. Hold out your hands,” he reached into his pocket again and produced a small strap of metal that fit into the shackles. “Here you are.” She realized that she could have fumbled with the key ring forever, but now the manacles fell from her wrists and onto the table. What a relief! She shrunk away to keep the leshen enfolding her hips from touching the iron.
“What will you do next, my dear?”
Velita threw the shackles into the corner that was already covered in glass shards and empty wire mesh. She rubbed her wrists and the leshen slid down her arms to cover the bruises and absorb the blood that ran from several scratches. “There, it is healing you once again, may I see? See, no harm done.” He held her wrist for a short moment and touched the vines around her arms gently. “Looks like new indeed…. the leshen loves you my dear, and it has healing properties. This is a marvel of nature I would like to explore.”
“You are exaggerating.” she shrugged him off, stood to her feet and got the key ring for the door.
“All the things you could do…” the count’s voice gained strength as she gained distance. “A little discomfort was a small price to uncover this concealed ability. No harm done. Where will you start healing with this new blessing? Would you like to heal the captain you stepped on? I am sure that would earn you his deepest respect.”
“No. I won’t be touched by him again. Or you come to that.”
The count tried another key to her personality, to keep her busy and hopefully, succumb to his charm. “Have you taken offense? Would you like to chase the captain around a bit and take revenge? I’m sure the leshen could help you with that as well.”
“I don’t,” Velita moved up the stairs step by step. More and more of the leshen had to follow up the slope. It was wandering over the walls, trying to hold onto the smooth stone walls. Some arm thick tentacles supported against the barrels that slid back screeching. She was still drunk, but fully concentrated on the door lock. She was glad that the count finally shut his dirty mouth. She realized that he tried to manipulate her with words, establish a bond, and even befriend her. She just had to remind herself what a brutish ass he was.
She did not look behind her to see the count stroked and patted the tentacles that wrapped around his left arm, obliged the leshen to free his other arm, then his ankles. Apparently, it had a short memory and reacted very well to hands-on gentleness. As a trait the leshen had probably inherited some of her female gentleness as it fed on her.
While Velita tried to find the right key for the door with her stiff hands, the count twisted off the table and retrieved his hunting knife to slide it underneath his leather tunic. He could not take out the leshen with that knife anymore; it had outgrown all simple solutions. But with a knife on Velita’s neck he would be able to control her better. The leshen was extremely powerful already; the tricky part was to have it eating out of his hand before it grew even further. He sat on the edge of the table and swung his legs even though he had not much time left.
Velita had a matching key inside the lock as the leshen lost its patience with the balancing act that got them nowhere. It simply lifted her up and put her back on solid ground at the foot of the stair. She struggled against the leshen who raised her by the leg to slide in and out of her again.
“Don’t be so shy, you are a feast to the eye,” the count chuckled, “It doesn’t waste time on foreplay, takes you at whim. You have no control at all, do you?” he jumped off the table and slid through the waving tentacles, stroking and petting the leshen gently, “But this looks like fun. If I was a woman, I would lend it my body as well.” He flopped into the nest of tentacles and ran his palm up her waist, under and in between the leshen’s tentacles. He got to the supple flesh of her breast, “See, it doesn’t mind me squeezing you. As long as I give you pleasure, it will admit me and just continue to churn your juices. Relax and let me make up for its mindlessness.”
Velita did not relax. She twisted, reached out to his waist and undid his breeches underneath the sturdy tunic, pulling them down deftly, “Give it a go yourself,” she revealed his white butt to the leshen. The count didn’t even flinch “Go ahead, undress me further, do as you considered before.” The leshen took over to divest the count of his pants and boot. He felt it come back, slightly rough on his skin as the tentacles slid up his legs “Did you fantasize that I’d shit myself at its touch?” he chuckled. “This is not about penalties anymore. It’s mutual reward.”
The leshen’s touch was gentleness impersonated indeed. “I don’t sweat; it can explore all it wants, it won’t do me any harm. It will just find out that you are by far juicier and sweeter.” He rolled to his knees and stroked the leshen where it had entered her behind. “Ease out you little branching, I want to see how you have been faring, since I cared for your feeding.” The cracked part was embedded behind the muscle ring, but the leshen was sensitive to his touch, shivering and pumping.
He could feel the leshen explore between his legs as well and reached into his other pocket, “I have a present for you,” He slid a wad of soft butter from the napkin within and rubbed it over the appendage and the rim of the slave’s opening. “I am not afraid to offer you a fair exchange when you get out there. Here it is,” He reached down and slid a wad of butter into his own anus where he had been poked a couple of times already. “Tit for tat. Now leave that one, I want to slide in there myself. We will complete this circle and I will deposit my juices for you once again.”
Velita felt the leshen move inside of her, pull on the muscle ring from the inside, pulse, twist and withdraw. It was too much for her senses; she came once again and slumped. The count chuckled and used her upraised leg as a lever to turn her on the side. He knelt in the leshen’s nest and pulled her shivering body up by the hips. “Let me show you why I am your superior and will be in control, always....” Her body opening was wide open, but he deposited another wad of butter so she was well lubed, would give the leshen no pain signals and he would be on the safe side as he penetrated her barren land where the leshen had just retracted. “You on the other hand, were naturally made to be on the receiving end.” He could feel the leshen push into his anus, rocking his body into the slave’s as he was explored deep inside. “Submit to us and I’ll make you enjoy it,” the count growled and plunged into the slave with the leshen’s sensual rhythm.
The leshen learned that the Count did not ruin its fun, just the opposite. It shivered in glee and interconnected with the Count on a chemical, physical and emotional basis, to his lust and greed.
And it got really greedy itself. Harder was better. More was more. Pain was lust and lust was pain. The leshen did not even moan, it had no mouth to do so. But the count did scream as the leshen denied stopping at his natural limitations and went right through his digestive system. When it absorbed his body fluids as it went through his stomach, he was still screaming. He stopped screaming when the tentacle punctured his lungs, the sound ended in a bubbling of blood that gushed out of his mouth. The count slackened over his slave’s body, making his very last deposit deep inside of her.
For Velita, it did not matter. She had passed out a minute ago and her mind rested in the black velvet of nothingness.
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded