Morrigan’s Body 1

The familiar odors and sights of the swamp enveloped Morrigan, witch of the Chasind, as she set foot into her old home again. The dark-haired beauty wrinkled her nose in distaste as she felt the ground give beneath her feet, murky waters rising to her ankles.

She had never had any real fondness for the swamp and its surroundings, with all the stench, the gnats and flies and snakes and the ever-present aura of rot. Not that so-called “civilization” was any better. What she had seen in the company of the Grey Warden had been enough for her to develop just the same sense of disgust about the big cities.

And, if one wanted to be left alone, there was no better place to scare off potential troublemakers, overzealous Templers and curious folk than the swamp. Of course, she understood all too well why Flemeth had decided to settle here, of all places.

The thought of her mother brought a sneer of deeper disgust to Morrigan’s haughty features. Even while she still had been a child, Flemeth had already planned to destroy her and take over her body. All the training in magic, evasion and seduction had just been a way for the sorceress to ensure she did not have to relearn anything after the switch. And there was little she could do against it. Flemeth was far more powerful than she ever could be.

For a while after finding the book in the Circle, she had hoped for the Warden to help her out there, to go and take Flemeth’s life, or, if that was not possible, at the very least her books, her knowledge, so Morrigan could protect herself.

Unfortunately, she had been severely disappointed when the Warden kept on stalling again and again, citing the greater importance of their mission to stop the Darkspawn. Until Morrigan, frustrated and, though she would rather die than admit it, afraid, had decided to take matters into her own hands.

Which was how she ended up here again, against all better judgment, to do what the Warden refused to do. To take away Flemeth’s stash of occult lore and find a way to keep her own soul in her own body.

And even though the idea still filled her with dread, she had marched on until she ended up here again, on the small hillside, looking down at the old wooden hut, lying there in false peace. Just an old wooden shack… and yet, the home of the most dangerous monster that ever prowled these lands.

Gritting her teeth in defiance, Morrigan cast a spell to shroud herself in illusion and made her way down, carefully casting her glance to the left and the right. A few moments ago, she had felt a most curious tingling sensation at the back of her neck… as if she was being watched.

“If you are keeping an eye on me, mother, better have the decency to kill me right now…” she muttered. The call of a bird somewhere in the marsh was the only response, and Morrigan crept closer to the shack, boots sinking slightly into the mud with each set.

The witch winced with each noise she made, each splash her movements caused on the wet ground. If Flemeth found her here, and if she knew what her daughter was planning to do, she would kill her. Or worse.

Morrigan shuddered at the thought. “It’s my body old bitch. Not yours…” she whispered.

The rotting wood of the hut was before her now. The warped door sitting slightly ajar in its frame, just like it had throughout her entire childhood. It creaked softly in the breeze, and Morrigan pushed through it with hardly a whisper beyond the usual sound. She was careful to step on the nails of the decrepit floor, to stop the entire hut from announcing her presence.

The hut was empty.

Morrigan looked around, seeking any signs of life, but Flemeth was not here. As far as the witch could tell, nothing had changed in the slightest since she had left with the warden and that idiot Alistar months ago. Her bed in the corner was still rumpled, unmade from the last time the witch had slept in it. There was, in fact, no sign that anyone had stepped foot here since Morrigan herself.

Flemeth was gone.

Morrigan began to laugh. At first the sound was quiet, barely an amused chuckle, but as the witch of the wilds put all of her derision for her fear and paranoia into the sound it grew. It grew until it was a proper laugh that stole her breath, black hair swinging abound her head as she shook with mirth.

“Oh what a fool I’ve been,” she said to no one, luxuriating in the sound of her own voice.

Flemeth was gone. The rising number of Darkspawn in the wilds after Ostegar’s fall must have finally convinced the witch to leave. Her wards would be gone with her, of course, so Morrigan wasn’t safe here but…

Perhaps in her mother’s hurry to depart, she had left behind something that would be of use against her. A talisman of the womans, or perhaps even one of the grimoirs she had hoped to find. Eager now, the young witch began to search, her amber eyes scanning the room.

Nothing. There was nothing under the beds, on the shelves, or on the table. Nothing in the book case, or on the chairs. Her eyes kept returning to the locked chest on the western wall, the same chest that Flemeth had kept the Grey Warden’s papers in – there was nowhere else something could be hidden.

Refusing to admit defeat, Morrigan knelt by the chest and found it still as securely locked as it had ever been. No matter how hard she pressed against the wood the stubborn lid refused to budge. Morrigan was about a second away from summoning an inferno and trying to burn her way through the chest when a cold voice came from behind her.

“It won’t open for you.”

Morrigan suddenly went stiff, her back locking into a rictus arch as the magical prison closed around her. Every muscle in her body strained violently against the paralysis, but she could barely breath in much less escape.

Ice flowed down her spine as the fingers of a weak, old woman brushed an errant lock her hair from her neck. “Welcome home, daughter,” Flemeth whispered into Morrigan’s ear. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She tried to turn her head at least, but Flemeth’s spell would not allow it. Not that it was necessary, for a moment later her mother stepped around her. She did not look much different than the last time Morrigan had seen her…an outwardly frail, old woman with white-grey hair and a face that may have once been beautiful, but had been ravaged by time. And to think that this thin, almost haggard form, concealed such power…

“Hello, mother,” Morrigan managed to say, noticing that the spell did not extend to her mouth or eyes. Her voice did not tremble, even though the icy fingers of fear still used her spine as a lute – that much self-control Flemeth herself had taught her. “Did you miss me?”

Flemeth chuckled, a surprisingly youthful sound. “Not particularly, my dearest daughter. After all, I always kept watch over you. You know that I have my ways. Only on very lonely days did I miss your caustic wit.”

Of course, Morrigan chided herself, there had never been a reason why Flemeth should not have been able to keep an eye on her. The lower beasts all heeded her call and she herself could turn into pretty much anything and anyone. Maybe that old wanderer a few days ago had actually been her, wanting to check on her progress…

“So, you thought to drop by unannounced… and you even wished to steal from me. From your own mother! I am deeply, deeply disappointed in you.” Reaching out, Flemeth placed a slender hand around Morrigan’s chin, the paper-thin skin almost rasping against Morrigan’s much more supple and soft flesh.

“You taught me to survive at any cost”, Morrigan responded, trying her best to ignore the touch and keep eye contact, despite the power she could feel building up behind Flemeth’s yellow-tinged orbs, “And you seek to kill me… mother. To usurp this body and live another thousand years.”

Again, she had to endure that unnerving chuckle from her mother. “Or even longer. After all, such a fine body as yours is worth keeping for a long, long time. And I must say, I am not pleased that you seek to deny me this.”

“Forgive me for wanting to live on, you old hag”, Morrigan snarled, her anger slowly overriding her fear. Was it just her imagination or did the spell slowly fade? “I almost had the Warden persuaded to end your pathetic life forever.” Flemeth reached over to the imprisoned woman and grabbed the staff from her back, flinging it across the room.

“Then it is good he did not go through with it. It would have been his death… and he is sorely needed still.” Flemeth shook her head and furrowed her brow for a moment. Morrigan stared in fascination as suddenly, her mother’s flesh swam and began to knit itself in new ways. Of course, the shapechanger’s art was not unknown to her, but her mother made it seem almost effortless.

Silently, she stared as suddenly, decades seemed to reverse their onslaught on Flemeth’s frame. Her skin tightened and muscles reappeared while her hair turned to a stark white, rolled into great horns resembling those of a dragon. The whole process took only a heartbeat but when it was done, Flemeth now truly looked like a mighty sorceress, someone who could just as well be at home in a courtroom or the decadent mage halls of Tevinter. Yellow, slitted eyes stared at her now, brimming with power.

“I can understand your desire to protect yourself… but nevertheless, stealing from me demands punishment.” Again, she raised her hand – which now sported long black talons – and, effortlessly, slashed away at the thin straps of fabric that held Morrigan’s outfit up, exposing the young witch’s round, firm breasts in one motion. “And I am known for my creative ways to punish those who cross me…”

Morrigan gasped, golden eyes wide, as her breasts were suddenly exposed to the air, the arc of her back thrusting her chest forward. Before the fabric of her robe had even reached the ground Flemeth’s taloned hand was at her neck, the sharp blade pressing lightly against the hollow of her throat. The young witch flinched microscopically in her magical prison, but at least it was something.

She had to keep the woman distracted long enough for the force prison to end. Morrigan came back to herself then enough to sneer. “What are you doing, mother?”

Flemeth’s other hand, the one without a talon, came up to cup a breast from beneath, as the younger woman’s eyes narrowed. “Being disappointed,” her mother said, bringing her hand further up the firm breast to rest on the witch’s nipple, hard in the cold air. “I asked you to do one thing,” she said, and pressed the bud between two fingers and squeezed, making her daughter’s face scrunch up. “A single, simple task.” She twisted, pulling away from Morrigan’s chest while the younger girl gave a small cry.

“Mother, what are you do-”

Flemeth slapped her with her scaled hand, the back of the talon striking her face and turning it savagely to the side. “Be quiet, girl. I’m not finished.”

Morrigan longed to glare at the abomination that called herself her mother, but she couldn’t turn her head back to look at her. Her neck had paralyzed itself in its new position, and again no matter how hard her muscles fought she could not move an inch.

“Tut,” her mother continued as though nothing had happened, her hand still on Morrigan’s nipple. “A stupid human, one of the fanatically stupid Grey Wardens…” Flemeth dragged the talon down across the womans chest now, sharp points of the claws dragging lightly over exposed flesh. “Eager to escape, to live his life…”

Morrigan gasped as the sharp tip brushed over her other nipple, and again she longed to be able to glare at the woman. Already she was biting her tongue to prevent herself to shouting at her again.

“And not only could you not seduce him like I asked… but you couldn’t even get him to do the least thing for you, like come after me?” She closed her taloned hand over the other nub of hard flesh and pulled, like she was trying to enlarge the witch’s breasts by stretching them from her chest. Morrigan gasped in the back of her throat and ruthlessly swallowed the sound. “You obviously can’t do anything right, at all. One of them is a Templar, for the maker’s sake. They should have been eager!”

“Was a Templar,” Morrigan snapped, unable to to hold her tongue any longer.

Flemeth released her crushed nipples, and Morrigan gave a tiny sigh in relief that she prayed the woman didn’t notice. “Oh, you know all about him, do you? Did you try to seduce him instead of the Cousland boy?”

Morrigan tried to stop herself, she really did.

Laughing is hard when mostly paralyzed, and when a prison of force prevents deep breathing, but the witch of the wilds managed it. “Alistair?” she choked out, trying and failing to contain her mirth. “The damned hounded they insist on dragging along had twice the brains, and three times the wit!”

Her mother grasped Morrigan’s chin and pulled her face back until their eyes met, amber on amber. Flemeth’s gaze lasted for several seconds, until the witch had succeeded in stopped her laughter, before continuing. “So you think this is a joke, Morrigan? One of the silly little games you played in the swamp, perhaps?” The powerful sorceress leaned forward, until her face was almost pressed against that of her daughter. “It is not,” she whispered viciously. “I am very displeased with your incompetence, and your lack of loyalty.”

Without stepping back her normal hand pressed lightly against Morrigan’s rack. “Your failure wasn’t here, it seems,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. The sharp points of her taloned fingers began sliding down the young woman’s stomach. “Perhaps the fault lies elsewhere…”

The tight leather of her pants split easily under the razored claws of Flemeth’s hand, opening a slash that began at her waist and grew lower and lower with each passing second. The black hide that had served the sorceress as a second skin was being torn apart, and Morrigan lamented its loss. Finding another pair like that would be difficult… if she managed to escape her mother with her own body, of course.

“Perhaps the failure was here?” the words escaped Flemeth in an angry hiss, and Morrigan felt the scaled digit presses against…

Her eyes widened. “W-wait!” she yelled, “wait, what!”

Flemeth had placed one taloned finger against Morrigan’s nether lips, the obsidian-coloured, sharp talon resting against her folds. Her other hand found its way back to her breasts, a the point of her index finger tracing painful circles around her sensitive aureola, though the sharp digit never broke the skin. “What are you doing, mother?” she asked sharply, anger, indignation and no small amount of fear colouring her voice. Of all the things that might happen, she had never ever expected her mother to touch her like this.

“Hitting you where it hurts most, I hope,” Flemeth responded, her eyes still glaring with anger but her lips marked by a small, cruel smirk. Between Morrigan’s legs, she began to move her hand and the young witch gasped as she felt the sharp talon wander up and down her snatch. Even had she been able to move, she would have remained frozen for fear of the talon hurting her most sensitive part.

“I always found your rebellious streak amusing… to a point,” Flemeth continued, her gaze boring into Morrigan’s eyes, seeking for the shame and fear she hoped to provoke… and finding it, much to her joy and Morrigan’s dismay, “but to think you defied me not once, but twice… it truly angers me.”

It took a moment before Morrigan found her voice again, trying her best to ignore the hands molesting her nether slit and her breasts. Nevertheless, when she opened her mouth again, she could not keep her voice from trembling. “ Maybe… if you wouldn’t plan to kill me, I would not have reason to defy you… mother.”

“Poor child,” Flemeth responded, her mocking tone like a knife in Morrigan’s mind. “You really believed that your body ever belonged to you.” She chuckled again, teasing Morrigan’s slit faster and provoking a sharp intake of breath from the younger witch.

“Maybe this will drive the message home to you, you dumb, dumb girl”, the ancient witch hissed and suddenly, Morrigan shrieked as the talon PUSHED into her, upwards, past her folds and into her warm, dry opening. While it was more surprise than pain, the sensation of the sharp digit pushing against her sensitive, tight walls was far from comfortable or painless, although Flemeth took care not to inflict injury upon her victim… yet.

“Mother… stop it!” Morrigan hissed through clenched teeth, already hating herself for shrieking like a scared child. She still had no idea what her mother intended – she certainly had never seen her act in such a manner – but she would not give in to her. “Stop it… at once!”

Flemeth did not even seem to hear her. Instead, she added a second taloned finger, carefully sliding it into the raven-haired beauty in front of her, stretching the tight hole. Morrigan tensed up, feeling both talons scrape against her sensitive inner skin. “Your body belongs to me. It belonged to me from the moment I decided to raise you!”

Flemeth’s face was only inches away from Morrigan’s and suddenly, the witch’s mouth was on hers. Morrigan’s lips parted in both surprise and shock and Flemeth’s tongue invaded, kissing her deeply and brutally. And when Flemeth started to pump her fingers in and out of her, the kiss muffled Morrigan’s pained groans as well…

The hard, chitinous digits slid slid smoothly past her lips, the ridges of the plates catching her her sensitive flesh and pulling at it as she drove her fingers deeper into Morrigan’s dry hole. The ridges were a bit thicker on top of the shaft, and the stiff bumps scraped at the vulnerable labia. Morrigan groaned again, the sound going no further than her mother’s mouth. While her talon was occupied stretching the young witch, her other hand mauled at the exposed breasts aggressively, squeezing and striking the pale orbs of flesh until they grew sore. Flemeth broke the kiss and lowered her face to Morrigan’s neck, her lips never leaving the woman’s skin. The powerful witch bit down softly, and Morrigan realized she had grown fangs in her transformation.

The young sorceress was biting down on her lips now, trying not to take a sound as Flemeth drove her scaled hand into her, the trusts growing harder with time. The unyielding armor plates tore at her insides, bruising them with the force of the abuse. Hey cunt felt spread wide around the girth of that freaking hard, the hideous lines and ridges that covered it hurting her innards. Those fangs of her mother’s flashed as she bit down carefully on Morrigan’s breast, the sharp tip just barely breaking the surface of her nipple but sending a shudder of agony through the witch’s body anyway.

Morrigan was breathing hard now, taking short but fast breaths as she chewed her own lips to stop from screaming. “Mother…” she said, her voice breaking midway through the word. “Stop this…”

To her surprise, Flemeth did. Slowly she pulled the sharp digits from within her cunt, and Morrigan could not suppress another shudder as the sharp claw tips scraped against her lips deliberately. Her mother was looking at her, she knew, and the witch raised her eyes to meet hers. There was a sadistic, pleased gleam to the yellow orbs, a lust for suffering that Morrigan had never seen in her mother’s eyes before.

Morrigan was getting her breath back under control now, asserting her control over her body. “Alright, mother. Lesson learned. Release me.”

Flemeth smiled at her, the expression promising not joy, but pain. “You know, this didn’t have to be this way… if you had just cooperated, or even stayed ignorant, your fate could have been much more fun for you.” Flemeth walked around to behind the woman now, her sharp claws trailing across Morrigan’s pale skin. “Even if you’d still been an uncooperative little brat I could have shown you some mercy if you’d been competent enough to whore yourself for the warden.”

Flemeth dug the claw into the leather pants, gripping them and pulling with a savage tug. The screech of ripping leather filled the room as the animal hide tore like paper, sundered by the unbelievable strength of her mother’s seemingly frail limbs. “I will not allow a stupid, petulant child to interfere in my plan,” she snarled, “Plans I’ve waited for decades to come to fruition. I don’t need your cooperation, just your body… and since you’ve done nothing but get in my way, I’m just going to take what I need.”

Morrigan struggled madly against the magical prison, trying to escape, to move, or even to turn and see what her mother was doing behind her. The ranting woman was pressed against her from behind now, both of her hands wrapping around Morrigan’s back to grasp her breasts from behind and squeeze. “I spent your childhood teaching you magic, the way of power. Even if you only lived a short life, you would have lived it as a god among peasants.” Flemeth was starting to squeeze her breasts harder now, her hands crushing the supple skin of her tits beneath them. It hurt abominably, and the talon was the worst… the armored plates of chitin pinched her delicate flesh between them as they pressed down, drawing angry red lines of agony across her tender body.

“But perhaps,” Flemeth continued, squeezing even harder until Morrigan could not contain a new gasp of pain. “Perhaps it was wasted effort. Instead of gratitude, all I inspired in you, my daughter, was arrogance.”

Morrigan was certain her tits were being crushed to pulp beneath her mother’s assault, even while the talon must be tearing one of them apart with its sharp edges. She could just barely hear the witch’s mocking words. Her entire world vanished, reduced to no awareness but that of the incredible pain. A pained voice was screaming into Morrigan’s, and it took the witch a moment to realize that the voice was hers.

The moment she screamed the agony stopped. Flemeth released her assaulted breasts, her hands pulling off of the witches skin and leaving the orbs bruised but intact behind them.

It took Morrigan a long time to regain her composure, perhaps several minutes. Her voice was still ragged when she spoke. “Why… why wou-”

Flemeth lay her talon against the witch’s lips, silencing her her. The hard, cruel weapon smelled like her, Morrigan realized to her humiliation, nostrils flaring. “Punishment, darling. Like I should have done a long time ago.” The elder witch bit her ear, and no matter how hard the dark haired woman tried she could not flinch away. “Since you are apparently too foolish to understand when you are being treated generously, you leave me with little choice but to show you the penalty for disobedience.”

Something hit her stripped ass then, and Morrigan jerked microscopically in the prison of force before she realized it was Flemeth’s hand. “Really, mother?” she said, chuckling through the talon still against her face. “You are spanking me? What do you think I am, five?”

Flemeth said nothing, but slowly, with the regularity of a metronome, drove her hand against Morrigan vulnerable ass, causing the soft flesh to ripple beneath the impact and slowly grow red. The strikes stung, but the witch of the wilds had spent months in battle against the darkspawn and other abominations – this hardly counted as an injury, and as the spanking continued Morrigan was not sure whether to be grateful for the pitiful punishing or indignant that it was even considered to be one.

Then Flemeth switched hands.

Morrigan’s golden eyes flew wide open as the talon struck her ass like an armored fist, the heavy impact striking her already agitated skin with savagery that exceeded the previous blows combined. Then, exactly on schedule, the heavy, chitinous talon landed again a few seconds later. Morrigan gasped, then bit her tongue in an effort to stop herself from screaming like a child when a third blow landed.

Minutes passed like this, the unyielding armor on Flemeth’s hand as merciless as stone as she drove it down on her exposed ass again and again. The hard ridges of the solid plates would catch her skin on impact, driving down into her harder than the rest and hurting the witch horrible. Morrigan could taste blood in her mouth now, and realized to her horror that she had cut her own inner lip in the effort not to cry out.

And on and on Flemeth struck her, never slowing or speeding up, the blows never growing weaker with time. Morrigan tried to convince herself that the punishment would end soon, that the pain would stop… but the steady assault gave lie to her hopes. The raven haired beauty let a single sob escape from her as she began to suspect that the assault could continue for ever, until that unforgiving claw had flayed her ass to the bone if Flemeth wished it.

“You can make this stop, daughter…” the black-hearted mage whispered her Morrigan’s ear. “All you need to do is tell me your sorry.”

“But I’m not you old hag!” she hissed between clenched teeth, another impact forcing her to strangle a scream before it could form.

“Then you leave me with little choice,” she growled, “than to make you sorry.”

The next strike was harder, and this time Morrigan was not quick enough to suppress the scream. Her voice rang out and filled the hut, accompanied by the loud slap that the armored hand had made. Again Flemeth stuck her daughter’s ass hard enough to send her feet across the floor were she not magically held in place, and the fresh scream from the young witch was music to the white haired woman’s ears.

Morrigan’s discipline left her completely in only a few more strikes, her pain completely overwhelming her rational mind. Her eyes were wet with tears straining to be released, a tiny trickle of liquid sorrow being set free each time her body shook from the thunderous impact to her rear. Her screams were almost constant now, and try as the witch might she could not restrain herself any longer.

Finally Flemeth stopped the abuse, allowing her now sobbing daughter to sag in her force prison. The witch was unhappy with the girl’s stubbornness… but there was no sense in permanently damaging her own future body, and if she continued much longer that perfect ass would scar, rather than just being raw and agonized.

The ancient sorceress walked around the restrained girl, watching as Morrigan put herself back together – containing the outward signs of her pain behind a wall of discipline. She smiled when her daughter finally met her eyes again, and the yellow eyes burned with so much hatred that they all but glowed.

“Do you think,” she choked out, her voice raw from the screams Flemeth had torn from her throat, “that this will make me obey you?”

Flemeth snarled and slapped the impudent girl again, using her talon and forming an angry red imprint on the younger woman’s pale face. “You are required to do nothing, least of all obey,” the abomination snarled, bearing her fangs at the dark haired woman. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention, or maybe you are just too stupid to understand, but I’m done allowing you to have a choice at all.” She grabbed the woman’s braided hair, tearing much of it lose from the tight knots as she forced to woman to meet her eyes again. “I’m just going to take what I need from you now.”

The haughty look on her daughter’s face infuriated the older woman, remind her that the stupid little slut was determined to cost her the soul of the Archdemon she had so long schemed to obtain. As she walked to the hut’s door she was filled with a burning desire to break this dishonorable wench and leave her a blubbering wreck before she found another way to obtain the essence of the Darkspawn. Despite the abuses she’d been made to suffer already, Morrigan still had her pride… and that’s exactly what Flemeth intended to take from her.

Flemeth opened the door, mentally sending instructions to her thrall.

Morrigan wanted to turn her head and see, but she still could not move. The spell was still holding firm, only permitting her a few twitching motions that ultimately did more harm than good, making her cramp up, only adding to the remnants of the soreness in her pussy and the stinging of her reddened asscheeks. Swallowing, she focused all her efforts on keeping herself from crying any more and finally succeeded, the shameful well of tears drying out again.

Behind her, she heard heavier footsteps approach the door and her mother’s voice, “Cormac, come in. And bring the rope.” Upon hearing these words, Morrigan felt her heartbeat quicken. She still refused to be afraid of her mother, that old cunt who got off on hurting her, but she could not help but feel a certain creeping unease. She did not have the gift of sight, but she knew with absolute certainty that the parade of degradations had only just begun.

The door closed behind her and the footsteps came closer, rounding her, allowing her to finally see the new arrival. He was a barbarian, all sunburned skin and muscle, wearing only a loincloth and a few pieces of leather armor, most likely cobbled together from the apparel of those he had killed. His face was brutish but had a certain rugged appeal to it… except for his eyes. In such a man, Morrigan would have expected them to burn with feverish intensity… but here, they were empty. Devoid of feeling, of desire, of will… of a soul. One look was enough to tell Morrigan she was looking at a slave.

In one of his meaty hands, he held a coil of rope, eying first it and then her without true interest, as if merely mimicking the motions of a truly living man. It was obvious that Flemeth had destroyed whatever had made this man human and left only an obedient shell. Morrigan wondered if this was to be her fate as well… but if her mother had wanted this, she could have already done it. What then was her goal?

Behind her, she heard another rustling sound and when Flemeth finally walked around again, she had shed her garments, standing next to the Chasind completely bare and naked. Her body was that of a woman who had aged not just gracefully but perfectly, showing a mixture of fitness and roundness Morrigan would have admired were it not for the fact that Flemeth had spent no effort to look that way. Still, her right hand remained a talon reminiscent of a dragon’s claw. Smirking, Flemeth reached out and underneath the barbarian’s loincloth, obviously grabbing his cock and starting to rub it vigorously.

The barbarian grunted but made no move otherwise. “This is Cormac,” Flemeth addressed her daughter again, “one of my most faithful servants. He will… help with your punishment.”

Morrigan glared at her, her eyes wandering to the movement beneath the loincloth. “Is my punishment watching you jerk him off, mother? Then please stop… I have seen enough.”

Flemeth chuckled again. “I am merely getting him ready… for you, my dear daughter. Since you were so reluctant to give up your precious cunt for the Warden, it is high time you were taught what your holes were truly for.”

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