Year 1276 – Vizima Dungeons Wounded Sparrow they called it. A toxin with a delayed activation time – it is especially dangerous because of its ability to completely disable magical powers for a limited time. “Bastards! They must have slipped it into my ale at the tavern earlier” Triss thought to herself, in a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the drug-fueled haze. They had lured her to an abandoned farm with lies about Geralt’s whereabouts. Her desperation to locate the man she loved proved to be her undoing. Normally she would have incinerated the assailants in the blink of an eye, but the toxin had kicked in by then. Upon regaining some of her clarity, she realized that she was in some damp jail cell. They had been ravaging her for some time and every hole of the redheaded sorceress was dripping with cum from the rabble now surrounding her. Some had worn Temerian emblems, others mere rags. She strained to remember all of their filthy faces, so that when she was freed she could tear them limb from limb. But Triss Merigold could do nothing except endure the humiliation of being used like a common whore by these men. Her eyelids began to feel heavy once again, as the moment of clarity began to pass. The toxin was more potent that she anticipated, it was making her body convulse and shiver. Or was that from her orgasms? She couldn’t tell anymore. She loosened her jaw and enjoyed the roughness of the soldier’s cock, wondering what the next load would taste like.
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