At Shaeline’s behest, Isolde stumbled out of the cave, and back into the twisting, endless hallways of Lady Yyvain’s manor. She was still for a moment, dazed and panting as her eyes adjusted to the light, and realized with dawning dread that she had nearly lost herself twice, and still had no idea how close she was to rescuing Aoife. Her moment of despair didn’t last, however, as Shaeline began loudly and repeatedly clearing her throat. “What?” Isolde growled. 

“A little gratitude would be nice,” Shaeline pouted. 

“Fine,” Isolde grumbled. “Once again I am in your debt. What do I do now?” 

Shaeline scratched her chin, humming to herself. “Well,” she began, “I’m not sure another disguise will work. A lot of people have seen your face. And I told everyone I’d be seeing you to your ‘guest room,’ so you can’t exactly go wandering around. Besides, I’m not sure you’d be able to carry all that heavy armor anymore after what she did to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Isolde bristled. 

The most insincere grimace Isolde had ever seen crossed Shaeline’s face. “I hate to break this to you, my dear,” given the look of barely restrained glee on her face, Shaeline very clearly did not hate to break anything to Isolde. “But that venom has had some lasting degenerative effects on your muscles. Physical labor just isn’t going to be your strong suit anymore.” 

“Bullshit! I—I,” panicking, Isolde examined herself. Where once she’d sported a chiseled, athletic physique, her muscles had melted away into a layer of soft baby fat around her noodling arms and plush tummy. Her face fell. 

“Hey, chin up!” Shaeline darted forward, tilting Isolde’s gaze up to meet hers. “You may be weak as a kitten now, but I’m sure you’ll manage. I’d suggest you make for the upper floor, but you’ll need to find a way to sneak past the guards.” 

“H-how do I do that?” Isolde asked. 

“Great question! I’m sure you’ll find the answer! Good luck” Shaeline fluttered her fingers in a little wave, then flicked her wrist; just like that she was gone.

Isolde stared at the empty space Shaeline had occupied in disbelief, half expecting her to reappear, all to no avail. Sighing, Isolde tried to take stock of her surroundings; when that didn’t work, Isolde simply picked a direction and began to walk, terrified that at any moment she would be caught, and broken into another of the inscrutable residents in this bizarre place. She crept through the hallways, aimless, ears straining for the slightest sign that she wasn’t alone. Fortunately, her caution paid off, unfortunately, someone was coming, and she hadn’t many places to hide. Starved for options, Isolde picked a door, and dashed inside. 

“Oh dear, I wasn’t expecting visitors.” Isolde spun on her heels at the sound of her voice, flattening herself against the wall. Across the room from her sat an attractive, mature looking woman wearing a low cut robe and a pointed witch’s hat. The walls behind her were lined with shelves, stocked with all manner of potions, bobbles, and trinkets. A heavy tome lay in her lap; it was open, though she currently paid it no heed. She gave a wry smile, and raised an eyebrow. “And a human, as well. We don’t get many such visitors to her lady’s home. Tell me, what brings you to my neck of these woods?” 

Something about the woman’s gaze seemed to strip Isolde bare, like no matter what she said, the truth would be obvious. “I, erm, I’m here to seek audience with the lady of the house,” Isolde admitted. “But, the problem is… well—”

“The problem is you came of your own accord, rather than by invitation,” the witch finished, giving a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Such matters are of little concern to me. If you are not meant to be here, this place will sort you out, one way or another. In the meantime, if you need a way to reach the lady, perhaps I might lend you a bit of aid.”

“Really?” Isolde brightened. Some part of her worried this might be another trick, but at this point, she wasn’t sure it mattered. Threats to her sanity seemed to lurk behind every corner, and this witch at least came off as rather forthcoming. Isolde would take whatever help she could get at this point. 

“Of course,” the witch smiled. “Ah, but where are my manners?” She gave a courtly bow, then an elegant, breathtaking smile. “My name is Lucinda Halloway, it is a pleasure, Miss Isolde.” 

For her part, Isolde was so taken in by the woman’s grace and beauty she hardly noticed that Lucinda knew her name without any introduction. She was a truly lovely woman to behold: supple curves, a voice like velvet. Her smile was kindly and genuine, but carried behind a hint of mischief and a great deal of wisdom. Her home smelled of cloves and fresh firewood. Despite herself, Isolde felt her cheeks growing warm. “I—erm—likewise,” she stammered. 

Lucinda giggled, a lovely sound that Isolde could only pray she might hear again soon. She nodded to herself, then clapped her book shut, and stood with a start. “Now,” she began, crossing the room in but a few paces. “If I am to assist you, I will need something from you.” Lucinda smiled, and gently pressed against Isolde’s nose. “I could use a—temporary—assistant in my latest magical pursuits. Would you be so kind as to help me out?”

Isolde eyed her, weighing her options. “What sort of help?” 

“Well…” Lucinda tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I’d say you could help me move some of my supplies out from storage, but I can’t say you look all that capable when it comes to physical strength. No offense.” The absolute nerve of this woman! Isolde bristled, then sighed, slumping forward. She was right, sadly. “Oh chin up, now! I’m sure I can make use of you, how would you like to run out to the courtyard and gather a few reagents for me?” 

A courtyard meant outside. Outside meant sunlight. Isolde shook her head. “Erm, I was told it’s best I avoid going out in the sun for the time being.”

Thankfully, Lucinda didn’t press the matter, instead opting to just shrug, and continue mulling her options. “Aha!” She shouted. “I have a great idea then. I’ve a little something special brewing in the back, a special request from a deep-pocketed client. I can go to gather the reagents I need, while you remain here and stir the pot for me.” 

Before Isolde could even consider her proposal, Lucinda seized her by the hand, and dragged her through another door toward the back of the room. The smell inside the room smothered Isolde. An overpowering, herby, smoky aroma; just one breath had Isolde practically choking on it, her head spinning and her eyes watering. She teetered on her feet, only for Lucinda to place a firm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “You’ll get used to it.” Smiling, she took Isolde by the hand, and led Isolde through the billowing haze. Her hand was so soft and warm, so inviting; Isolde didn’t bother fighting the small smile tugging at her lips. The pair stopped before an oversized, bubbling cauldron sat in the middle of the room. “Here we are,” Lucinda said. She parked Isolde in front of the smoking pot, and handed her a long ladle. Isolde gazed inside. The deep purple liquid within bubbled and fizzed, bursting with that thick aroma. “Not much to it from here,” Lucinda explained. “Just stir. You can take breaks every few minutes if you like, or not. Whatever helps pass the time. Unless you have any questions I’ll be off.” 

Isolde gave an experimental churn of the brew with her ladle, and watched as it swirled before her eyes. It was quite the mesmerizing sight. Focusing in on her task felt so very natural. She gave it another churn, then another, tilting her head back and forth as she watched the bubbling liquid swirl round and round. But wait, Lucinda had wanted to know if she had questions, hadn’t she?” Isolde pried her eyes away from the swirling cauldron, and realized she must have spent far longer than she’d meant to gazing into that lovely spiral pattern, as when she raised her head, Lucinda was already out the door, leaving Isolde alone to tend to the concoction. She sighed, and in the process, breathed deep of that lovely, overwhelming scent. Oh well, for manual labor this wasn’t so bad. Plus, she was getting something out of it. Isolde took another slow breath. Her nose felt tingly, as did her eyes, and mouth, and thoughts. It was a pleasant tingle, though, so Isolde didn’t really care. She churned the cauldron once more, and thought about how grateful she was to Lucinda for giving her such a wonderful opportunity. 

Not only did she get the chance to help such a talented witch, but the work was quite pleasant, and Lucinda would be helping her in return. Though the witch never did clarify just how that help would look. Perhaps Lucinda would cast some spell on her or slip her some potion to make her invisible to the guards. Better yet, perhaps she would teach Lucinda a bit of magic she could perform herself. Wouldn’t that be nice? becoming her apprentice… She was so pretty, and clearly very kind hearted, Isolde breathed another long, slow sigh. As that piercing aroma clouded her mind, Isolde gazed deep into that swirling brew, and let her mind dwell on what a wonderful teacher Miss Lucinda would make. And Isolde, too, would make a very devoted apprentice to such a pretty, kind, and talented witch. She was already making herself quite useful as it was, stirring Miss Lucinda’s potion. Would Miss Lucinda notice just how well she was doing? Goddess, she hoped so. Then maybe Miss Lucinda would give her a reassuring smile and let her know what a great job she was doing. Isolde blushed at the thought, as she always did when she imagined her teacher praising her. 

A wistful, dopey smile touched her face as more and more of Isolde’s thoughts grew occupied by her lovely, voluptuous teacher. She barely paid her stirring any mind at all, giving it only the barest effort. Instead, she stared out into the middle distance with a dreamy glaze to her eyes, reduced to repeated and exaggerated lovestruck sighs on every exhale. Oh how she yearned for Miss Lucinda’s company, her attention, that patient, but chiding smile she gave whenever Isolde made a mistake. Isolde was ever so grateful for Miss Lucinda’s patience, she was, after all, quite the ditzy and absent minded student: easily distracted always prone to daydreaming, Of course, the Miss Lucinda’s choice of “disciplining” a naughty apprentice did little to deter this behavior. The mere thought of such things had Isolde blushing and squealing with humiliation, even as her mouth began to water. 

Biting her lip, Isolde took a long, slow breath, letting the dizzying fumes tickle her mind. Slowly, she drew her tongue along her teeth; her eyelids fluttered as her hand instinctively traced lower, lower. Isolde couldn’t believe she was doing this. It was so, so wrong. The thought of Miss Lucinda walking in on her like this, neglecting her duties, panting and whining as she played with herself, oh Goddess the shame! She moaned as her knees buckled. Her free hand rose up, creeping beneath her robe to grasp and fondle her heaving breasts; she tweaked a nipple, drawing in a sharp gasp at the eruption of pleasure. The more she toyed with herself, the harder she began to pant, and the harder she panted, the more that heady vapor drew her into dazed reverie. 

Drool trickled from her parted lips as Isolde squeezed her eyes shut and quickened her pace, blushing and squirming like a virgin as she thought of Miss Lucinda. What she might do to her. The things’ she’d say. Stars above, Isolde could practically hear her voice. “My oh my,” she’d say, “it seems my naughty little trollop of an apprentice can’t control her urges.” Something grasped Isolde’s shoulder, and, with a start, she realized that hadn’t been her imagination. Isolde yelped, then toppled from her stool, landing flat on her cushy rear. Quick as she could, Isolde drew her legs inward, hugging them to her pillowy chest and staring off into the corner. She tried not to think about how Miss Lucinda must have a great view of her cleavage from where she stood, and cursed how ridiculously low-cut her robes were. 

Miss Lucinda chuckled; it was that warm, condescending chuckle she so often gave when she caught her foolish ditz of an apprentice neglecting her duties or making yet another error. Fuck, this was so, so humiliating. Isolde couldn’t believe she’d allowed such wanton desires to consume her like that. And to have Miss Lucinda see! Unthinkable. Mortifying. The fact that Isolde found all this so hot only made things that much worse. How could she ever look Miss Lucinda in the eyes again after this? “I—um—I’m s-sorry, Miss,” Isolde stammered, both her blush and her arousal intensifying with every word. 

Again, Miss Lucinda laughed. She sighed, and shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, my dear sweet Isolde?” she asked.

“I—I don’t k-know M-Ma’am.” Damn it all, why did she have to always get so tongue tied around Miss Lucinda? A long, pregnant pause followed; Isolde could feel Miss Lucinda’s eyes roving up and down her ripe, supple curves. It was so dreadful! Isolde’s full chest, wide hips and cushy rear had always been such a terrible burden. A curse, even! 

Everywhere Isolde went she turned heads, and those lustful gazes never failed to stir up such lustful, uncouth thoughts in her head. With Miss Lucinda it was even worse. She practically fantasized about her teacher’s plush curves and mountainous breasts every time her mind wandered. And since Isolde was such a hopeless ditz, that was often. Even now, just the thought of Miss Lucinda’s mature, heaving breasts had her drooling as her heart beat in her chest. So warm, so soft. Oh how she longed to bury her face in them; to dive right in and never come back up. 

The sharp crack of a book slamming shut beside her startled Isolde from her fantasy. Isolde whipped her head up, made eye-contact with Miss Lucinda for half a second, then immediately averted her eyes, instead electing to stare at her teacher’s shoes. “As I was saying,” Miss Lucinda continued. “I do believe a punishment might be in order, don’t you agree, my dear?”

“Y-yes Ma’am,” Isolde replied. 

“Very well.” Miss Lucinda strode across the room and sat down at her desk. She uncrossed, then spread her legs. Then after a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat expectantly. “Well, Isolde?” she began. “It’s not going to suck itself.”

“Y-yes Ma’am,” Isolde sputtered. She scrambled to her hands and knees then scampered across the room, mouth watering as her cheeks burned bright red. Wordlessly, she ducked beneath Miss Lucinda’s skirt, and pressed her face between those thick, pillowy thighs. Miss Lucinda’s cock stood proud and hard. A bead of translucent precum glistened at the tip. The mere sight of her length had Isolde panting and squirming in place. Overtaken with lust, she lurched forward, only for Miss Lucinda’s hand to stop her.

“Aahhh-ahh-ahh,” she chided. “Did I give you permission?” 

Isolde swallowed hard; it was all she could do to keep from drooling all over her teacher’s thighs. A soft, pleading whine rose from the back of her throat as she nuzzled against Miss Lucinda’s thigh. The skin on her cheek lit up with tingly pleasure. Isolde shivered. Fuck, she was so sensitive, a lingering effect from that spider venom, perhaps? Far above, her teacher cooed, and placed her hand atop Isolde’s head, ruffling her hair. Isolde practically came on the spot as every nerve in her scalp lit up with mind-numbing pleasure. She moaned aloud, panting and whining with dumb, distant look on her face. “Aww, good girl,” Miss Lucinda cheered. Isolde smiled. She was being good. “Go ahead, then.” 

With that command, the world came back into focus, and Isolde could process the mocking, condescending tone Miss Lucinda had used; Isolde’s cheeks were scorching with shame—and arousal. Nevertheless, she squeaked, and nodded, hiding her head beneath Miss Lucinda’s skirt and giving her throbbing member a tentative lick. The moment that shiny little droplet of precum touched her lips, Isolde shuddered and whimpered. Goddess, why did cum have to taste so good to her? This wasn’t normal; she was certain of it. Something was wrong with Isolde’s taste buds, something deeply shameful and improper which made the taste of cum absolutely delectable to her. She needed more. 

Hunger overtook her, and she dove forward, stuffing her face with Miss Lucinda’s delicious, thick cock. It was so perfect. So soft and warm, it pulsed and twitched in her mouth as Miss Lucinda moaned and praised her in that angelic voice of hers. And fuck, her lips were more sensitive too. The tingled and danced with delightful pleasure as she glided her mouth up and down Miss Lucinda’s shenis. 

Flushed and trembling, Isolde sucked and licked best she could, drooling all over Miss Lucinda’s plush thighs. Isolde rested her head against that pillowy flesh, and idly ran her tongue up and down the glorious shaft before her, savoring the flavor for a moment before lurching forward once more to stuff her face with girlcock. Miss Lucinda’s moans were growing louder, her thighs shook with each lick along her length as her cock twitched more and more. She was close. Isolde knew just what to do. Redoubling her efforts, she sealed her lips around Miss Isolde’s cock and took it as deep into her as she could, pleasure exploding on her lips and tongue all the while. Isolde’s throat bulged as her eyes rolled back into her head and her toes curled. Then, Miss Lucinda gave one last quivering moan, and her cock exploded hot, fresh cum into Isolde’s mouth. She drank it all down without question, licked from base to tip a few times to be sure, and collapsed into the witch’s lap, her face burning bright with humiliation. 

Miss Lucinda reached down and ran a hand through Lucinda’s hair, then giggled. “That’s a good girl,” she purred. “You did so well.” Isolde barely heard her through the gasping moans of pleasure that accompanied her teacher’s doting caress. 

Isolde nodded. “I’m s-sorry, Miss Lucinda,” she murmured, keeping her face buried in Miss Lucinda’s lap. She began absentmindedly, nuzzling her face into Miss Lucinda’s silky thighs, reveling in the sensation of her sensitive flesh brushing the witch’s perfect skin. 

“Whatever for, my dear?” She asked, no shortage of amusement bubbling in her voice. 

“F-for getting distracted during my work and messing up your brew,” Isolde answered. 

A condescending giggle burst from the witch’s lips. “Oh, my dear sweet Isolde, do you still think you’re here to learn and help me with magic?”

Confused, Isolde lifted her head up to give Miss Lucinda a curious glance. “Wh-what do you mean?” 

“Oh my dear, sweet, ditzy girl. I don’t keep you around to teach you, I keep you around to have something pretty to look at and someone to suck me off when I need release. Silly girl,” she chided, brushing a lock of hair out of Isolde’s hair. “What else would you be good for?” 

Amidst the absolutely crushing, delicious humiliation, something about that question stirred a thought in Isolde’s mind. What else was she good for? There was something else. She was certain. “Aoife,” Isolde gasped. 

“Hmm?” Miss Lucinda asked. 

“I—M—Ma’am,” Isolde began. “I—there’s something I need to do. My girlfriend, she’s been taken by the Lady of the Manor and I need to save her!” Yes, that was right. She had a reason for being here beside just sucking cock and stewing in her hopeless crush on Miss Lucinda. “Y-you said that if I helped you with this you would help me get further in?” 

“Ah,” Miss Lucinda answered. “Yes, I did say that, didn't I?” She sounded disappointed. “Well, I suppose if you really want to go still, I can hardly keep you on good conscience. I’ll help you, but I do have one request.” 

“What’s that, Ma’am?” Isolde asked. 

“If you do wind up making it out and back to the mortal world, look me up. You’ll find me if you ask the right people. I could always use a second pair of lips to suck me off.” Pride welled up in Isolde as her heart fluttered. Wow! Miss Lucinda must really like her! Isolde gave an eager nod. “Will do, Miss!” She replied.