Willo's heart raced wildly, but shame reflexively pulled the rejection from her lips: "No, this is bad, I—"
Yet her words rang hollow. Deep down, she knew she had no grounds to refuse—not when her unrestrained moans and reactions had been witnessed by the other woman.
But for a woman whose nature and behavior had always been conservative, accepting a threesome so suddenly felt impossible.
Hattie, however, was determined to accelerate the process.
The deep-sea witch leaned close to Willo's cheek, whispering at her ear: "Relax, dear Matriarch. Others I might doubt, but I swear—you'll adore this."
With that, she parted her small mouth and gently took Willo's earlobe between her teeth.
She didn't say it outright, but her implication was clear: Willo's earlier performance had given her this confidence.
Feeling Hattie's teeth lightly chew her ear, hearing those tempting whispers, Willo's face flushed crimson again.
Before she could protest, a cluster of thick, slick tendrils—ridged yet soft, and unnervingly agile—crawled up her body.
She glanced down in alarm to find dense black mist pooling beneath the quilt. Within it, several ink-green tentacles slithered up her thighs.
"What is this?!" she gasped.
"Relax," Hattie licked her ear. "Just a little toy from my collection—to spice things up."
She lied—this was her real body, as much her own hands as anything.
Willo tensed, unfamiliar with such sensations. Though the warm, slick tentacles licking her soles felt oddly pleasant, ticklish even, she instinctively tried to pull away.
But soon her feet were the least of her worries. Tentacles coiled around her calves and thighs, pinning them while they stroked and rubbed. She couldn't tell how many there were—one? Five? Six?
Without warning, two tentacles climbed to her upper body. They slid beneath her armpits, wrapped around the base of her breasts like dexterous snakes, and squeezed tight.
Then their tips angled upward, and the suckers at their ends clamped onto her nipples like perfect entrances!
"Mmm..."
A low moan escaped Willo's throat. The sensation of her nipples being sucked by tentacles was entirely unlike a human mouth—especially when they started pulling harder, as if trying to wring every last drop of milk from her!
That was Hattie's goal, but she would be disappointed.
Feeling nothing left, she shot Charles an accusing glance: "Greedy, aren't you? Didn't leave me a drop."
Charles rubbed his neck, at a loss. "Uh... well—!"
What could he even say?
Willo fixed him with a pleading look, about to speak—but a slender, more agile tentacle darted into her mouth, coiled around her tongue, and silenced her words.
"Woo..." The Satyr whimpered.
Hattie didn't wait. Her gaze swept lower, and she sighed admiringly. "So beautiful, Matriarch!"
With that, she slapped Willo's plump rear and kneaded the yielding softness.
"Woo..." Willo whimpered again. Her rounded hips were pried apart, and a thicker, slicker tentacle began rubbing between her cheeks.
Confused, Willo wondered if Hattie had missed her target—but the next second, its tip pushed into her rear entrance, untouched for over twenty years!
"Hnnngh—!"
Willo's eyes flew wide. She shook her head frantically, resisting the unfamiliar assault.
While druid ranks were formally based on spellcasting, they measured personal mastery differently: by how deeply one's soul fused with nature.
The first stage meant surviving solely on nature energy—Goodberries. This purified a druid's body, halting nearly all metabolism to achieve physical purity.
Common term: living off thin air.
Willo had long surpassed this. Years ago, she'd reached the second stage: a tranquil, unshakable druidic serenity. Her emotions synchronized with nature's fate—unmoved unless nature itself was polluted or broken.
The third stage, Archdruid, fused mind and body with nature. At this level, druids aged just one year per decade—extending their lives tenfold. When angered, they could summon natural disasters: storms, lightning, even earthquakes.
Nidalee's father, Ilarode, had been such an Archdruid.
Willo was once a prodigy. She'd stopped eating in her twenties, achieved serenity in her thirties, and now hovered near Archdruid status—her skin remained baby-smooth, untouched by time.
But this also meant her rear entrance had lain dormant for decades. Now stretched by a thick, ridged tentacle, the shock of intrusion made her scalp tingle!
"Woo! Woo—!"
Eyes squeezed shut, she shook her head until her hair tangled. Sweat beaded her flushed brow, but nothing could stop the slick heat forcing deeper into her body—
"Ohh..."
Hattie sighed with pleasure. The sensation of her thickest tentacle buried in Willo's tight rear was its own reward.
Leaning close to Willo's ear, she murmured, "Well, Matriarch? How does it feel?"
Willo squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head violently as her body trembled, instinctively resisting the alien intrusion.
She wasn't in pain—but decades of disuse left her recoiling from the violation.
Unfazed, Hattie chuckled softly. "Relax, Matriarch. Soon, you'll crave this feeling."
She shot Charles a glance. Understanding her cue, he moved forward, embracing Willo from the front. Sensing his intent, the Satyr Matriarch's eyes flew open, pupils wide with panic: "Woo! Woo-woo————!!!"
Charles' thick cock parted her slick, pink folds. Pre-stretched and wet, he plunged to her depths with a single powerful thrust of his hips.
Willo threw back her snow-white neck, eyes blankly fixed on the ceiling as if her soul had shattered under the double assault.
But this was only the beginning. Without pause, Hattie wrapped her arms around Willo's shoulders from behind while Charles clung to both women from the front—sandwiching the Satyr between them as their hips began pumping in unison.
"Oh…"
Hattie moaned softly, her waist swaying rhythmically. Magic alone could've moved her tentacles, but she chose to grind her hips against Willo's back and rounded rear, letting her chest and stomach slide over the Satyr's skin as if her own body were thrusting!
Meanwhile, deep inside Willo's rear, the tentacle wriggled and withdrew in tiny pulses, matching Charles' rhythm—doubling the pleasure for both.
Just as Hattie had promised: an exquisite toy, the ultimate wingman in this dance of desire.
Trapped between them, Willo's body betrayed her. Resistance was futile—instinct ruled.
"Woo! Woo—woo—!"
Her muffled cries sharpened. Overwhelmed by dual stimulation, she shook violently, tears of ecstasy welling in her clenched eyes. Brain empty, she teetered on the brink of blissful madness.
Seeing her surrender, Hattie withdrew the tentacle gagging Willo's mouth—unleashing a deafening scream: "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh—————!!!"
The sound nearly shattered Charles and Hattie's eardrums. Maybe freeing her voice was a mistake. Thankfully, the monastery's dorm walls held strong—no nuns woke to the midnight serenade.
To silence the roar, Hattie leaned in and sealed Willo's lips with her own.
"Mmwoo—!"
Mind blank, throat parched, Willo kissed back desperately—even thrusting her tongue to tangle with the sea witch's.
Mouth. Breasts. Front. Rear. Under the brutal symphony of sensations, she soared to her second peak of the night.
...
At this moment, in Sephera's room.
The Toxic Witch's bedside was cluttered with bottles and jars of deadly poisons she'd scrounged from everywhere—scorpion venom, snake toxins, toad secretions, and concoctions brewed by underworld factions, among others.
Witches are naturally skilled in specific types of magic, often tied to their origins, and their own Mana maximizes the effect when they Cast these spells.
But this convenience comes with restrictions. For Sephera to boost her Strength, she had to focus solely on toxins, with little hope of excelling in other domains.
So, despite knowing the path had limits, she dove deeper into studying toxins.
Fortunately, foes with resistance or even immunity to toxins were relatively rare overall, so she still had plenty of room to shine in mid-to-low-tier battlefields.
Now, after a busy day, it was time for her to study toxins and improve her Strength.
If Mana Consumption wasn't heavy, witches didn't need rest. Daytime tasks were effortless, and nights free from attending to his needs left them with downtime.
Driven by urgency, Sephera naturally doubled down on studying to boost her Strength.
She still dreamed of replacing Hattie as Charles's favorite witch, so naturally, she pushed harder.
Just then, a flash of light sparked behind her. Distracted, Sephera turned, annoyed—until she recognized the visitor, her expression shifting instantly to delight. "Eldest sister, what brings you here?"
Theresa's lips curled slightly. "I came to share good news and invite you to watch a show."
Sephera looked confused. Theresa didn't keep her in suspense: "Hattie's serving him tonight, right?"
Sephera nodded. Theresa's smile widened. "I sent Willo to see Master, just like she did that night."
Sephera's eyes lit up.
As former Good sisters, Theresa and Sephera had stayed close even after Charles purified them.
Sephera had confided in Theresa about the time Hattie betrayed her: She'd planned intimate relations with Charles, only for Anno to launch a Night attack, forcing her to hide under the bed and eavesdrop all night. She'd framed it as her own bullying and suffering.
Theresa couldn't blame Hattie over something trivial, but she resented her sister's mistreatment and vowed revenge.
So when she learned Hattie was on duty again and Willo happened to be restless, Theresa seized the chance for payback.
Thinking Hattie must be stuck under the bed, helplessly furious, pounding the floor and crying, Sephera shivered with excitement. "Retribution! That's what she deserves—that untrustworthy guy. Hmph!"
Theresa chuckled, warmed by her little sister's glee.
Sephera grabbed Theresa's hand. "Come on, Eldest sister! Let's see her misery firsthand and mock her!"
Theresa naturally agreed. Hand in hand, they exited the Door, crossed the Corridor, and reached outside Charles's window.
His room's curtains were open, letting moonlight flood in. The witches immediately saw inside.
But the scene wasn't what they'd imagined.
In the room, at that moment, Willo stood completely naked, bending slightly at the waist. Her full-figured form leaned forward as she thrust her rounded hips upward to meet Charles's thrusts. Behind her, Charles—equally naked—gripped her ass, driving his thick cock into her with fierce strokes.
Even with the dorm's excellent soundproofing, Theresa and Sephera heard nothing, but Charles's vigorous movements suggested sharp, loud slaps echoing through the room.
That wasn't the shocker, though. Hattie wasn't under the bed—instead, she knelt on the mattress, kissing Willo deeply while cupping her face.
Black mist swirled beneath Hattie, with thick, ink-green tentacles—slick with warm mucus—coiling around Willo's thighs, waist, chest, and rounded hips, even delving inside her body.
Exactly like she'd done with Nidalee before.
"What—" Sephera's beautiful eyes widened in disbelief. "They're… playing together?"
"But—how'd Hattie dare crawl out from under the bed? Is she not afraid of—?"
She fumbled for words, struggling to process this. Theresa paused thoughtfully, then smacked her palm. "Damn, I missed a detail!"
"Willo knows Master has a real girlfriend. Naturally, she'd feel timid doing this. Hattie just exploited that…"
Sighing, she admitted defeat. "Miscalculated. This situation's totally different."
Sephera sighed too, disappointed but consoling. "It's okay, Eldest sister. We'll get other chances, uh—"
Just then, Hattie's gaze flicked to the two witches outside the window.
Her eyebrow arched, and she shot each a provocative look.
Sephera gnashed her teeth, stomping helplessly.
Damn you, Hattie! Just wait!
~~~
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