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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded	By : dschinny Category: +S through Z > Witcher 2, The: Assassins of Kings Views: 1939 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
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Sleeping Beauty
The Witcher 3: Blood & Wine Battle Theme
https://youtu.be/Vwy3rYFUayc
Geralt went back into the servant’s staircase and closed the kitchen door behind him. A leshen upstairs with Velita - that was a nightmare. There was the myth that a leshen was indestructible until its human contact had been killed. In Geralt’s experience, a separating distance to the human was sufficient. But how to do so within a building?
It would be hard to avoid tentacles coming at him in the limited space of the house, even though the lordships’ rooms where spacious. It was time to down a potion that enhanced his speed. He leaned against the door while his features went pale and doughy, his pupils widened until his whole eye balls appeared as black pools… it wasn’t a sight Gernot should behold. He set the lantern aside. In the upper staircase, the stench of blood and innards lessened and was replaced by… apple juice? Damn, that was getting more confusing to his senses by the minute.
The servant’s entrance to the ladyship’s quarters was not locked. The door frame was rubbed and scratched like something huge squished through it. Inside the succession of rooms, the doors were far wider. A lady in full ball gown attire could pass through elegantly. Thick carpets covered the floors behind the sitting room of the lady-in-waiting, drag traces had brushed the colorful silk into one direction. There was a living room dominated by a sofa with three seats on different sides, small furniture embellished with trinkets, huge portraits and landscapes on the walls. The adjoining door was closed.
The witcher side stepped to open it a crack, his still glowing sword held ready. The leshen’s tentacle that had leaned against the door from the inside did not put up a fight. It sagged to the ground without a flinch. Was it dead? The room behind the door was the lady’s bedroom. Tentacles as thick as his arm spilled all over the ground, between the bedposts like a wave that flooded the furniture. On the bed, there was a human body covered and ensnared by the animated plant growth up to the chest. He recognized Velita. She was still alive, at least he could hear her heartbeat and she was breathing. Her hair was messy, her face and arms were unwashed, full of smears and bruises. But all in all, she was alive and in one piece – which was better than most other people fared with a leshen.
It seemed that her body had formed some sort of symbiosis with the leshen!
The witcher withdrew carefully in order not to wake the beast. Whatever the Count had found and nurtured in his cellar, that new monster was as sizable and powerful as the one he killed but it had no core or center. He could not make out a proper target. And he remembered what a tough job it had been after the first well aimed strike. How to keep it from smiting Velita?
Within the room, he would pay a bladed attempt on the monster with his life. Fire was what he needed to purge that infestation. Thankfully, the house was already deserted. Worst case, it would burn down. He gathered the oil lamps from around the suite with his free hand, cooled the hot blade in a flower vase and sheathed it.
And then he heard a soft moan from the bedroom. Whenever that monster had some reason, acted by design - it was waking Velita to a truly horrid scene.
-oOo-
W3 – The Witcher 3- Wild Hunt OST - Silver For Monsters [HQ] [Extended]
https://youtu.be/LDnENTDuAiI
The leshen had enjoyed a field day and was just resting a bit, keeping its senses on the new intruder.
The apple juice they had to drink fulfilled its needs and did not poison its host to the point of incoherence. They knew their ways around the mansion; just the bath the host wanted to take in the fountain was not suit. On the other hand, the leshen could not to allow the host to light a fire or burn wood. It would spend the night huddled about its host to preserve the human’s warmth within its woody confines.
The sun had cast its last rays on the bed, warming them both as they got to enjoy the noble softness of a mattress and downy sheets. Since darkness had fallen, the leshen would fold up like a basket against the frost that crept into the room at the window sills and wafted down on the floors. A draft entered from the door, the tentacle that guarded that entrance sagged to the ground, but the leshen’s attention was peaked.
Another intruder! Larger size but clad in black animal skin like the last one. This one’s shell was harder, with much more iron and silver on him. The silver was nice to touch, the iron wasn’t. What made him really special was that tingle that surrounded every creature sensitive to chaos. His special metabolism would certainly satisfy the leshen’s every need for a long time.
But he came with fire, he came with iron… just one more step and he would be in reach. The leshen froze. But the intruder just withdrew silently. Pity, that one would have been so tasty! But the rummaging continued next door. The leshen had learned much about patience while it rested in the pitch black darkness with its host and bathed within her body chemistry.
The intruder probably thought he was moving silently, but his boots sent a vibration through the floor. The leshen rested on the floor like a spider in a web, almost merged with the building it did not miss any movement. He gathered something. The leshen slivered under its host’s chest, lifting her torso like a wave swayed a boat. It made her moan in sleep. The softest of sexual sounds was rewarded with the immediate stop of the footfall’s vibration. The leshen had baited the intruder. And there the male stood to attention. The leshen withdrew from the host’s bare chest and from her supple legs to display the bait in the frosty air. While the leshen was orientated to body chemistry and fluids, it had realized that it’s female host’s mere view was an attraction to males of her species and used that effect to lure its prey closer.
The intruder had already sheathed the sword in the next room. He brought a container of fluid into the bedchamber and the leshen absorbed the oily scent that wafted over. Some tentacles waved out of the intruder’s way in a sedate gesture, daring the male to enter and take the leshen’s bait. Like the first, this intruder had a gentle touch and brought lubrication for present. He was even more generous about it. The leshen shivered in glee as the oily fluid trickled over its tentacles. This would go smooth; the only difficulty was to decide which tentacle was allowed to start on this feast?
One especially noisy tentacle was slapped aside as it went for the back of the waistband underneath the armor. He was quick and powerful and his touch tingled with magic. This intruder could do damage, real damage, but he was oh so tasty… though a bit touchier than the last, this one?
The leshen would not take risks, it would allow this intruder to drop his hard shell and get stuck properly in the bait like the last one. The leshen felt his sensual touch approaching those connections the leshen had formed with its host. It let the intruder examine all he wanted, explore the bait also. The host shivered even more as the cold air was replaced by the intruder’s warm touch. She woke but continued to serve as the leshen’s willing bait. Her female meat moved sensuously, emitted mating pheromones and spilled fluid deep inside. Once the intruder lost his coherence in the reproductive act, several tentacles would get their lucky chance.
Velita opened her eyes as the tingling sensation as the leshen withdrew suddenly and her skin was submitted to the cold draft. Her nipples tensed and her body was raised by the movement of the leshen underneath her back. She moaned as she was penetrated deeply as her body sagged on the slope the leshen had formed between the soft mattress and her spine. She found herself on the bed in the lady’s suite and the moon rise shone through the open curtains. She sighed and tried to twist into a more comfortable position. It was nice to have some light, some sort of orientation. The door was open, cold night air wafted in, moon light shone in from the neighboring living room. Nobody should be around?!
Velita tried to sit up but her thighs were held in a vice like grip by the leshen. It hadn’t been that hard on her for days… she suddenly felt on display as a tall dark figure approached from the shadows that the curtains edged into the moon shine. Suddenly, the beam of light reflected on silver white hair, “Geralt!” she realized how hoarse she was after yelling for her dear life. Afterwards she had been silent for days. With the incident on the kitchen corridor, she had fallen out of inter-human communication. In childlike avoidance she just closed her eyes again because she didn’t want him to see her like this, but… his calloused palm was around her flank and she simply threw her arms around Geralt’s neck and cried.
The witcher let her cry a while, “Now, now,” he gently loosened her hold, “Looks like you are thoroughly fucked. Want me to help you out?”
“Yes. I tried, but the leshen won’t let go,” she swallowed dryly. His voice sounded strange, darker, and raspier than she remembered. But so did hers... her every muscle cringed at the thought how awful she must look to him. – “I can see why it likes to spend time with you, but it has to learn a little respect now that it is approaching adulthood.” – Apparently, Geralt was completely unfazed. Velita reminded herself that he was a witcher, strangeness was his profession. “Its… like feeding,” she tried an explanation. – “Did you offer it something else already to wean it from your body fluids?” – “Yes. It drank half the contents of the wine cellar, and then ate the Count inside out. It took to the apple juice the past two days, that made us sober up a bit …and yet I cannot get it to disconnect.”
“You fed the Count to the leshen?” – “The Count thought he was the leshen’s best friend when he chained me up to feed me to the leshen. He did not realize how much he had hurt us both before he dropped his pants. The leshen took the invite… the hard way.” – “Curious.” – “The leshen experiences the world through me. But since it has licked blood it has gone predatory.” – “I did not plan to drop my knickers in front of an audience,” the witcher winked. “Yet I am somewhat surprised by the friendly invite I get here.” – “You cannot trust it.”
Velita’s palm fluttered over his arm and gauntlet, then cupped the back of his hand. She confirmed that it wasn’t just her sweat, his whole hand felt slippery with …lamp oil? “The leshen thinks you bring it a present. To worship it and …that you want to join in.” – “That’s a bit naïve,” the witcher smirked, “Let’s see if the leshen’s wish for my attention is strong enough to expose you… or whenever it can be coaxed to lose its hold within you because it feels how much you like my touch.” – “I like all of you, that’s why I don’t want you to end up like the Count.”
“I’ve seen that, you’ve got nothing to fear,” the witcher cleared the tentacles aside with gentle pats of his hand, sat down firmly on the lady’s bed to ruin the noisy tentacle’s fun in his back as he spilled more oil over his hands. “Let’s do this,” he kissed Velita deeply, made himself known through her body chemistry alone and felt the leshen shiver around them.
The leshen recognized the pleasure coursing through Velita’s body as the intruder’s slippery hands ran down her sides. It made way for the intruder’s palms as they ran over the bait’s loins, offering up the bait to this touch. Large hands ran back up over bared hips. By then Velita had closed her eyes, concentrated on Geralt and his every touch, closed out everything else and felt like she was dying for the tingling touch to home in between her thighs.
The leshen got to absorb the juices and approved as the intruder’s manipulating hands continued their journey to squeeze the host’s butt. She tightened around the provenance root, younger vines were nudged aside on the outside. Even more sensitive skin was bared to that touch that made its host taste even sweeter. This intruder homed in on that spot the host really wanted to be touched. The finger snip that removed the leshen’s appendage from that outer center of pleasure was nothing against the wave of excitement cursing through the host’s body chemistry.
The leshen’s hold eased as Velita strained and arched her body, its root was halfway dislodged by the host’s sensual struggle at just a single fingertip. The leshen plowed her anal opening deeply, rubbing into the softness where the root’s hardness had been settling for days. She was sore, she was sensitive and she shattered, growing limp.
The leshen wanted to plough deeply into the sopping treasure but was withheld by the witcher’s iron grip. The host’s shiver around the leshen’s original tentacle tip that remained inside was a sensual torture. Should it allow the intruder to slide into that most precious hole and hope it would churn out their combined juices? The root that had solely enjoyed that special spot was suddenly overruled. Many tentacles below the bait’s body opted for accumulating the two humanoids, hoping for spillage. The intruder’s backside would be high in the air, vulnerable to even more predatory tentacles who opted the root out as well.
The witcher pulled the root out slowly, teasingly. He showed the leshen what a very light and gentle touch could do to a woman’s overstrained nerve endings. The leshen’s thickened cross growth got to enjoy the benefit of that action dripping out of the host’s cavern and all over the star shaped vines that had stopped their development to adjust to the host’s body limitations. Now they strained happily, rubbing all around the oily hand to get a first taste of that that novelty.
This new intruder’s touch tingled with a whole different energy. The appendage wanted more of that, now. The longer vine that the knot had sprouted to absorb the late intruder’s donation withdrew from the host’s cavern. It wrapped around that hand first, and then decided to plunge into that slippery fist because that was bigger and felt even nicer than the bait’s tight rear opening. It plunged in there, shivering in glee for what was still to come… but then the tightness was gone all of sudden.
The witcher hoisted Velita over his shoulder in one fluent move, cast Aard at the window that shattered into the night air as he jumped on the expanse of the leshen’s resting tentacles and on the window sill. A weighted silver chain caught on the hinge of the window shutter as he swung out. The witcher’s feet hit the wall half a story above the training ground. Geralt eased his hold, felt the chain links pierce his calloused palm and heard them rattle against to wooden shutter. Velita yelped but climbed him like a monkey; thankfully, she clung to his neck instinctively. He let go of her butt and rappelled down hand over hand.
Above them, the leshen appeared in the window, clung to the frame and tensed to catapult out.
W3 - Igni
https://youtu.be/JKLvLD5-mzk
“Run!” the witcher commanded and twisted Velita behind him as he took a stance. He drew his sword on the completion of the circular movement and cast Igni on the blade. The leshen jumped and tore down the widow shutter that got in its way. The witcher extended his Igni to the flight and gave it maximum intensity. Oiled up as it was, the leshen ignited into a fireball. It could not howl on pain, the roaring flames made that sound as it swished through the air and attacked. The witcher’s Quen flared under the flaming tentacles that slashed over the shielding umbrella like giant torches.
The silver chain swung out, wrapped around the tentacles. The witcher pulled and secured the other end at the pole that marked the middle of the training ground. He kept slashing off any appendage extended to him. The fire ball decreased in size, the wobbling pyre below enlarged. The leather of the witcher’s gauntlets and shoulder pats started smoldering, black grime tainted his silver mane but finally the sentiment movement around the pole died down. The remains would burn down like a peaceful bonfire.
The pole hadn’t been of good use anyway.
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded