There was a spell laid over the city of Xenthras, but Vella Suncatcher didn't find out about it until it was far too late. She walked into the town as just another sellsword trying to ply her trade, but the moment she passed beyond the boundary stones set into the muddy ground on the outskirts of town her hand slipped from the pommel of her blade and her steps slowed to a halt and her eyes glazed over in mesmerized lassitude. "Looks like we've got a new one for the stocks," one of the guards said to the other, but Vella didn't really hear him.
The first guard took her by the hand and led her to the center of town, and Vella followed as she was bidden--it wasn't her first experience with magic, she was a hardened mercenary and had seen her share of sorcery on the battlefield, but she'd never been subjected to a spell as strong as this before and she soon found that her will was no match for it. Her mind drifted into a hazy idyll, unable to break free of the indolence that gripped her, and before she knew it she was kneeling down so her head and hands could be placed into a set of stocks in the town square. "You won't be needing this anymore," the guard said, cutting the straps on her armor, and the closest Vella could manage to resistance was a soft, sleepy sigh as it fell to the ground.
She did manage a few occasional periods of lucidity, albeit only briefly and not without a titanic effort of will, and it was during those times when the men of the town explained her predicament. The spells of Xenthras sapped women's wills completely over the course of seven days, taking their mental strength away more and more with each passing day until by the end they were nothing more than blank-eyed slaves of the wizard who ran the town, and for those seven days Vella would be imprisoned in the stocks and used by any man that wanted her until her mind was utterly subsumed and she would be claimed at auction. It was a fate she tried desperately to fight, but even in her conscious moments her muscles were kitten-weak and she suspected they were drugging her food on top of everything else.
And as her periods of wakefulness grew fewer and further between, Vella would come back to herself to find a cock plowing her from behind or a stiff prick filling her mouth as though she was nothing more than a plaything to be used. Worse, she could feel the endlessly throbbing ache of arousal between her legs and she understood that a part of her was coming to crave this subjugation, to desire it above all things as the spell wove its way ever more insidiously into the very fabric of her mind. Her insistent defiance became notional and abstract, then slowly faded into a cow-eyed complacency that left her opening wide for any man who walked up to her even when she was awake. It just seemed useless to fight by then.
When her seven days were up, Vella was released from the stocks and taken to the town hall, and if there had been any part of her still capable of thought she would have been surprised to discover that the wizard himself claimed her for his own. He dressed her in a suit of enchanted armor, gave her a magic sword and a position as his own personal myrmidon… but her place at his side didn't stop him from using her body every night when they retired to his chambers.
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