The Witcher: Geralt and the Gwent Tournament (part 3) - Sex Stories

The Witcher: Geralt and the Gwent Tournament (part 3)

... returned, and she found herself in a dark, cold room. The soreness in her head reminded her of the hilt that had knocked her unconscious. Bound and gagged, she sat in the shadows, her hands tied behind her back and her ankles securely fastened. As her mind raced with thoughts of escape and survival, she couldn't ignore the peculiar tingling sensitivity that seemed to dance across her skin. Her heightened senses were a lingering effect of the potion she had consumed.

The door creaked open, and a small figure entered, followed by two taller figures carrying candles that illuminated the room. Sasha strained to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness. The small figure revealed himself as the one in charge, holding a long, flat wooden paddle with a devious grin that hinted at sadistic intentions.

"Well, well, well, our precious Sasha has awakened from her nap... or should I more accurately call you Cantarella?" His words dripped with menace. In the flickering candlelight, she could see the contours of the room. Her gaze darted around, taking in the old wooden desk in the center and the worn-out furniture of the room, the cracked and peeling walls, and the cob-webs that have built up in the corners of the room due to the aged, neglected nature of the room.

Cantarella, Sasha’s real name, knew the risks of being a spy behind enemy lines, and the possibility of torture loomed over her. Suicide was not an option now, leaving her to face the impending ordeal. A unique fear ...

... gripped her, one that many women spies understood intimately.

"We need answers, Cantarella, and your cooperation. Give us both, and you may survive... do you understand?" he taunted, and Sasha nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze unwavering.

"Good. Men, remove her gag... but be careful, this Nilfgaardian spy is dangerous, very dangerous indeed," commanded Bernard.

As the gag was removed, and Sasha drew in a deep breath, she felt her head suddenly jerked back. From behind her, her hair was pulled back and down, forcing her to look up, her eyes wide with panic, her mouth wide open. Then, rapidly, the assailant pressed a stick lengthwise into the back of her mouth, wedged between her molars.

“This little concoction should help loosen your lips, Cantarella,” Bernard said as he pulled out a vial of glowing yellow liquid. He uncorked the substance and slowly poured it into her mouth while holding her nose shut. The nature of the liquid remained a mystery to her, but instinct told her it couldn't be anything good. Despite her efforts to resist, she swallowed the elixir, the cold liquid gliding down her throat.

Released from her hold, she pushed the stick out of her mouth with her tongue and spit, but she knew it was already too late.

“Don’t worry, my dear, this truth serum is harmless and only takes a few moments to take effect,” Bernard said with a grin.

As the potion seeped into her veins, a subtle transformation began to unfold. A wave of tranquility cascaded ...