"Will I be able to visit the Fief freely?" she asked. She already knew of the existence of my personal sanctuary and had caught glimpses of it a couple of times; curiosity was eating her alive.
"Of course. You are already one of my most... deep women," I said, emphasizing the word as my penis sank into her to the limit. "You will have free access, but with absolute discretion. No one should know of its existence yet, not even the other girls, unless it is necessary."
"I have another question..." Her tone became unusually serious.
"Don't ask for permission, just spit it out." (Red)
"Susan... is she also going to...?" She didn't finish the sentence, but her look said it all.
"I don't know. Maybe? I won't lie to you, I want our group to be a much more... united family," I said with a thrust of my hips that made her gasp. "But it won't be now. With her, I'll wait for the right moment, for the opportunity to arise naturally. I already have enough women to avoid looking desperate; I'll let luck decide. If things come to that, fine. If not, I'll wait until my conscience doesn't scream at me so much for claiming my friends by force."
"So you'll do it anyway?" She raised an eyebrow, knowing me all too well.
"No comment..." I looked away with a cynical smile while my hands continued exploring her sweaty body.
"Just... don't break my friend's heart," she asked with a trace of worry, knowing full well that Susan was already pining for me. She remained thoughtful for a moment before adding in a timid voice: "You know what? Our first intimate interaction... didn't happen on this adventure."
"No? Did I do something to you while sleepwalking?" I asked, intrigued and slightly alarmed. I didn't remember laying a hand on her before this adventure.
"Do you remember that costume party you organized? When you drank the pumpkin juice from my outfit?" She turned red as a tomato, feeling foolish for the confession.
"I remember it perfectly. I suppose it was a... close moment," I smiled wickedly, but her blush was too intense.
"That day... I wasn't wearing anything under the pumpkin suit. All that juice... it was in direct contact with my skin. With my parts..." Her voice became a barely audible whisper. "Though I suppose it doesn't matter now; now you drink directly from the source."
I froze for a second before a spark of wild lust shot down my spine.
"Oh, you perverted bitch!" I lifted her up and slammed her against the wall, increasing the violence of my thrusts. "Are you telling me I drank your cunt juice without knowing it? You manipulated me into tasting you in front of everyone..."
"I didn't do it on purpose!" she stuttered, her voice breaking from the sharp impacts of my pelvis against hers. "You... you drank directly..."
"But you loved that I did," I declared, putting more malice into the act. "You're a depraved slut, Hannah. You have no right to complain to me about anything."
"That's not true..." she moaned through tears and gasps, though her arms and legs clung to me as if her life depended on never letting go.
She knew this was one of the last times we would enjoy this primal freedom. Soon we would return to civilization: uniforms, rules, friends, and the modern world. In fact, Hannah wondered if she should leave school as Gemma did and start an adult life by my side. Perhaps she wouldn't be a famous witch in this time, but with me, she received things and learned magics that others don't even dream of, so she might not do so badly. Also, she could settle in the Fief, where we would be free to love each other without judgment and where there would be no lack of opportunities or anything in general.
But all those plans would have to wait. At that moment, Hannah wasn't in a state to think about the future; she was too busy suffering a forced orgasm triggered by my powers, over and over again, in that cycle of pleasure and pain she both hated and loved.
...
Morning filtered into the room, revealing a heavy air that reeked of an intoxicating mix of sex and wilted flowers—remnants of the aphrodisiacs and scents used during the night.
Both on the bed and on the floor, the scene was Dantesque: naked women scattered in a deep sleep bordering on a coma. There was no pattern; village girls, daughters of nobles, the chief's daughter, and witches of various ages lay mixed together. The only thing they shared was the expression of absolute exhaustion and their holes, stretched and overflowing with dripping fluids.
Hannah and I were already on our feet, preparing to leave while observing the disaster we were leaving behind. The countdown had begun: the cultists had moved into action, and it was time for us to make our appearance to end this campaign. We knew that if all went well, this would be the last time we saw this house.
Hannah couldn't help but give our battlefield of a bed a second look. She ignored the women who seemed to have been ravaged by a force of nature and focused on the memories. The images of the night were blurred by the intensity and the hallucinogenic herbs; ironically, her desire for it to be an unforgettable night had created mental gaps from the pure excess of stimuli.
"Do you want to stop for a bite or should we eat on the way?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind.
"Let's eat something here... even if it's quick," she replied with a trace of nostalgia. "I want to cook breakfast for you one last time in this place."
"You know it's not the end of the world, right? You can keep cooking for me even when we get back," I teased gently.
"I know..." she said, blushing. Though it felt like a final farewell, it wasn't. "Come on, I'll prepare something delicious."
She stopped in her tracks, as if a sudden idea had struck her. She ran to the kitchen and returned immediately with a piece of bread. Without a hint of hesitation, she wiped the bread across the semen-filled cunt of one of the unconscious witches, soaking it with that special milk still leaking from her, and put it in her mouth.
"Today I'll have breakfast with you, but I don't plan on missing my essential nutrients," she said with her mouth full and her cheeks flushed, as much from the provocation as from the urgency.
Hannah ran back to the kitchen to prepare something fast, thus preventing us from starting another battle right then and there. However, she couldn't help but feel that her idea hadn't been so crazy and that, in the future, she might very well repeat it. She had noticed she felt increasingly strong and beautiful by constantly ingesting my semen, and it wasn't mere suggestion.
I had already ascended to the category of a "superior being," which turned my own body into an invaluable resource. In my current state, the consumption of my seed generated a real enhancement effect in women—especially since, thanks to my [Cooking] skill, the creation of my sperm technically counted as a "preparation" and received its respective bonuses. That was why Hannah found it increasingly delicious, addictive, and revitalizing.
Her habit of breakfasting on my essence had strengthened her to the point of being at least 20-40% stronger than her natural development would allow. Of course, the improvement curve has diminishing returns and will eventually reach a limit, but we are still far from that ceiling. Furthermore, if I continue to increase my power, the tonic effect will be enhanced.
Since I deactivated "Project Aspects," the potency of my fluid is far superior, and Hannah has suffered the consequences: from stomach upsets to an "overdose" that caused emotional instability. In short, my semen is now an exceptional tonic to be reckoned with, but also something to fear. If Hannah tells the others, I fear I'll end up turned into a dairy cow... though maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
Despite Hannah promising something quick, she ended up cooking as if it were a final imperial banquet, exhausting all the house's provisions. We ate and chatted, laughing as we remembered our stay in this place: from the normalcy of the beginning to the absolute depravity of the end. The conversation concluded, with haunting naturalness, with a detailed list of which of the women lying unconscious in the room had the best cunt.
As we finished, some of the dying figures began to stir, thirsty and disoriented. We said goodbye in our own way: with brief, powerful penetrations that finished off what little stamina they had recovered, sending our "victims" back into the void of the unconscious. Hannah, far from being scandalized, helped by taking some photos for memory's sake. They were her quasi-friends, after all; witches from her circle who now shared an indelible bond. There was even that witch from the male harem, who would probably never feel satisfied with her men again after having tasted a pleasure no mortal should know.
"Did we go too far?" Hannah asked, watching a woman still trembling on the floor, a thin trail of blood trickling from her nose.
"They're fine. Nothing a good rest and medicine can't fix," I replied with indifference, while cleaning my penis with the silky hair of the chief's daughter.
"This is so crazy... I never imagined sex could be so extreme and magical at the same time," Hannah confessed, shuddering as she recalled the night's events.
"And that's nothing. The most unreal sex I had was with Andromeda. Physically it was mundane, but on a spiritual and mental level... it was madness. I lived her whole life and she lived mine in an instant. I digested it well, but she struggled to regain her identity. I'll tell you the details on the way." (Red)
I made clothes appear on both of us and, camouflaged by my magic, we left the house. We headed into the thick of the jungle, following the trail of one of my clones that was stalking a group of cultists.
The path was a labyrinth of distractions. We walked in circles several times, in a maneuver of confusion similar to the one Niara used to lead us to the dragon's cave. Thanks to my speed enhancements, we caught up to them soon and began following them closely. It was no easy task; the group divided and reformed constantly, and only one of them seemed to know the authentic route to the temple. Furthermore, they advanced protected by layers of anti-tracking magic of surprising quality. Truly, they wanted no guests.
Hannah felt like one of those spies from the movies I had shown her in the Fief. During our stay, I had taken it upon myself to introduce her to modern Muggle culture, and she had already decided she wanted to show all that to the other girls when we returned. By the way, it was at that moment she recognized, through laughter, that the costume Dumbledore wore at the party was, in fact, Gandalf's.
Suddenly, I felt a spatial distortion ahead of us. It was a powerful anomaly, similar to but much vaster than the protection spell I cast on her and Tonks during the fight against the Yakuruna.
We watched as one of the cultists disappeared. For Hannah, it was a disturbing process: she saw him vanish and, instantly, her mind tried to erase his existence; she knew someone was missing, but she couldn't remember when or how he had gone. I, on the other hand, witnessed it with total clarity: a ripple in the air, as if the man had stepped through an invisible curtain of water.
It was all I needed. While the rest of the cultists continued circling to throw off potential pursuers, I took Hannah by the waist. With a couple of adjustments to my camouflage, I subtly tore the fabric of that barrier and slipped us into the unknown territory.