When Honor Is Broken

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The shackles bit deep into Jaune’s arm. If he had the energy, he could sit up a little straighter, support his arms a little more, escape the pain, but… but he didn’t. He was stuck, slumped against a wall, held up by iron chains and manacles that wrapped around his wrist. But even as beaten as he was, even as his body gave way, his experienced mind couldn’t help but try to strategize some way to turn them to his advantage. They were heavy and iron, if they could be detached from the wall, the chains might serve as a makeshift weapon, and he’d heard that the kind of roughly-shaped iron like this could dispel magic…

But it was folly. He’d fought his captor with sword, shield, and armor, and she’d proven to be more than a match for him. Perhaps if his company had rallied behind him, they could have taken advantage of numbers, but…

No, it was his fault. He was the commander, he was responsible for the decisions he made. He’d gone in with militia, had declined Ruby’s offer of help, disinclined to hire mercenaries for the task. When they were ambushed, it had been his arrogance in entering a witch’s woods without sufficient numbers and experience, and so he could only blame himself when they’d panicked and fled as the woods seemed to come alive to attack them, a storm of branches and boulders hurled upon them. Arslan had organized the retreat and, he could take some solace in this, he’d bought them time. No one but him would have fallen in the attempt, which meant that the returning militia would be able to return, with greater numbers. Arslan would hire Ruby, they’d bring the full Guard, and even…

He felt a thin smile come to his face, even as he knew how dangerous it was to hope. But the thought of Pyrrha, riding to his rescue… it wasn’t manly to be the damsel in distress, but Jaune didn’t care. He knew Pyrrha would ride to him and nothing could stop Pyrrha. That was what he needed to hold on for another day, to endure a little longer. Help would be coming, and he simply needed to hold on.

But, oh, it was hard! He was a fully anointed Knight, and while he had learned the hard way that a Knight alone was not the kind of singular hero he might have believed of them, Jaune was a sight tougher than anyone else, even compared to the soldiers, mercenaries, and adventurers who passed through the Fort. And yet… Jaune knew he had a breaking point. He was a mortal man, not an invincible hero. And he knew that his captivity was putting him dangerously close to-

“It’s good to see you’re up early, Paladin.”

The voice was delivered with the dispassionate professionalism that Jaune had come to loathe as much as the monstrous experiments that accompanied it. Raising his eyes, he saw her in her white robes and purple cape, her clothing pristine even in the filthy dungeon, almost certainly ensorceled to be kept clean from dust, dirt, and blood. Hardly looked like what he’d expected when he’d heard that a witch had been unleashing wild and cruel magic against the peasantry. He’d expected some creature of the bogs, a gnarled crone with plantlife entwined round her spindly arms, a warty finger for curses.

But now he knew that her dominion over the natural world meant that she could subjugate it. She moved through forest and fen without tracking mud, her golden curls unperturbed by twigs or thorns, her soft, creamy skin unblemished by the sun. She was beautiful, angelic, even, with her hair forming a pale halo around her face and her piercing emerald eyes made her look all the more like some heavenly creature.

But beauty belied a cruelty Jaune had learned firsthand.

“Witch,” he hissed, lacking the energy to exert more than a single syllable. But he put all his hate, all his resilience into that syllable, backed with his most vicious glare… which was like throwing a punch against a hurricane, but the hell Jaune wouldn’t vent his rage. Even if this was all the fight left in him, a prisoner too weak and enfeebled to even pull himself up, he’d still be fighting.

But his captor only cracked a smile at his pitiful display. “Yes, that’s what they call me. Glynda the Good Witch,” she said, a mirthful cackle lurking behind her words, “Yes, I know they only say it to appease me, in their superstitious fear that I can hear whatever’s said about me, but all the same… the peasants call me the Good Witch and they call you dead. I think I have the better of it.”

Jaune groaned, shaking his head. He knew she’d been trying to break his resolve, convince him to give up hope. He knew that he was more valuable to her as a broken, compliant prisoner, and he knew that would be the last thing he’d give her. But still, her words cut deep so soon after indulging in a fantasy of Pyrrha coming to rescue him. If he was dead…

Glynda seemed to recognize his vulnerability, and pressed her advantage with a wicked grin. “Ah, were you thinking about rescue, Paladin? Were you thinking you might be saved by your order? Well, I have some news for you...”

She stepped closer to him, her high-heeled leather boots clicking against the stone as she drew close enough that Jaune could strike her if he had the energy. But he did not, and she knew it, letting her lower herself to Jaune’s level, looking straight into her eyes, piercing into his very soul as she continued. “I hadn’t thought I would need to be so cruel, Paladin, but I’ve known something all this while that you don’t. Something that would crush your little heart… but I can be merciful, Paladin.”

Jaune knew she could only intend to dangle the hope before him cruelly and knew not to engage at all. He gave her a livid glare and grit his teeth. “Just get it over with,” he growled, seeing the witch’s feigned compassion draw away and her true face, analytical, remorseless, and cruel, reveal itself for a moment. But then the mask returned as she gave a short nod.

“I remind myself,” she said, wearing a smile as fake as it was inviting, “that it’s your vigor that interests me. That this resistance you’re showing is just more sign of what a magnificent specimen you’ll make for my experiments. Peasants prove to be all too feeble, and oxen are, heh,” she laughs, though her words remind Jaune of the warped remains of animals they’d found on the way, twisted by her fell magic, “well, they don’t provide useful data. But you, my Paladin, or should I say… Sir Jaune.”

Jaune was too weak to hide his shock at hearing his name. He’d refused to give it up to her, knowing full well that you didn’t give your name to a witch when she asked for it. But it also meant that she was learning about him, inquiring… and that meant that she might mean what she said when she said the peasantry had thought him dead.

Glynda’s eyes sparkled with malicious glee, and though he tried to deny it, Jaune couldn’t help but be affected by the dread beauty of her gaze. The facsimile of gentleness, kindness, and warmth seemed all too real this close, though Jaune struggled to remind himself that it was all false sympathy, designed to break his will. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and Jaune couldn’t resist the way the tension in his shoulder relaxed, his head unwillingly tilting to rest on her arm, the warmth of her touch inviting him to accept her offer…

But when he didn’t, Glynda continued to speak.

“But I’d knew they had given up on you, my noble Paladin, before I even began to investigate,” her voice dripped with concern that spoke to her art as an Enchantress, her words honeyed with sympathy, “When I fought you, I initially worried. Your… militia did not give me pause, but I knew that two Knights, both Paladins of sacred orders, that might be too much for me to defeat. I had even prepared to run away, except...”

The villainy was never far away with Glynda, but Jaune could scarcely notice it, not against what he was piecing together from what she’d said. It had been too easy for her, something he hadn’t realized til now because he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Because… because Arslan wasn’t… he’d chosen to believe she’d prioritized protecting the militia, but had she just...

He knew she had been envious of his position as Captain of the Garrison. She was, he would gladly admit, the superior fighter, but Jaune had been chosen because he had a better nature for dealing with problems on the frontier. Working with peasant militia and rag-tag adventurers demanded someone with a patient and understanding nature, and Arslan’s unerring commitment to the strictest discipline would never accept anything but the best. And in the absence of that superior quality, she would drive them to the breaking point. She was not someone who could diffuse tensions between quarreling farmers or gently encourage the militia to keep up with regular drills when it was so much easier to quit. And she knew that, except…

Except Jaune knew what she really held against him.

Blake had told him, the Faunus thief all too eager to dangle juicy gossip in front of him as much as Jaune insisted he didn’t care what she had to say. But she was a useful source of information for discontent, and she wasn’t going to let it pass without Jaune learning what she knew. So he’d allowed her to share with him that it was more than a matter of rank.

Blake had “intercepted” a letter from Arslan for… for Pyrrha. And while Jaune was initially appalled to hear that Blake had been looking through their private messages, he’d been too shocked by what she revealed for him to effectively admonish her. Because while the letter contained nothing of particular note, just standard reports on the matters relevant to the Keep, Blake was unsparing in description, in how much the letter gushed in its compliments towards Jaune’s mentor and friend. And while the letter on its own might not be enough to mean anything, Blake’s taunting, teasing details were the keystone that made the rest of what Jaune knew make sense. Arslan’s quiet hostility towards him, her long, wistful looks and moments of distraction when Pyrrha was visiting to inspect the keep, it all made sense with this fact.

Arslan was in love with Pyrrha.

And while Jaune’s relationship with Pyrrha was strictly professional and he had done much to protect her reputation against slanderous and unfounded rumors, Jaune knew that they were much closer than Pyrrha was towards anyone else. As a Maiden of the Order, she was a Paladin par excellence, a Knight among Knights, the greatest of them all, and that made her unapproachable to most. Jaune considered it the highest honor not only to have been personally trained by such a legend, but to have her trust. He was only one who enjoyed such intimacy with Pyrrha, to hear her secret fears, her loneliness, her struggles with the responsibilities of holding a rank as august as Maidenhood. And when he knew that Arslan had fallen for the unattainable, what could he could say or do to dissuade her that he was not standing in the way of her true love?

But to go far enough to betray him, to abandon a sworn Brother, her Captain to a witch? It wasn’t… he hadn’t wanted to even suspect it when...

But Jaune knew that it was possible. That those who’d held his office before him could attest to the strains of the frontier, to have been betrayed for ambition, jealousy, suspicion, or just the strain that emerged between capable wielders of violence in a land that rewarded that capacity more than respect for the rule of law. And… deep in his heart, he knew it was true. This was no lie from his captor. He had been betrayed.

“So,” she said, gently stroking his cheek, her soft touch causing Jaune to tremble from its seductive allure, “You’ve been betrayed by your ally, forsaken by your Order, and left for dead. I won’t offer you freedom from your captivity, but if you stop resisting me...” she leaned in close, her voice a hot whisper, the pinpricks of her breath on his skin each a dart of promised pleasure, “I can make your stay so much more pleasant… so will you cease fighting me and be a good boy?”

Jaune had finally reached the very end of his strength. His hope had been extinguished, cruelly snatched away as soon as he had crystalized the thought, felt it at the very tips of his fingers. And now he could feel its absence, the cold, painful void of hope spoiled. It was nigh unbearable, and all he had to do was give in to the illusion and the pain would stop. Accept the enchantress’s beguiling ways, receive the meager pleasures of being her pet, but far more importantly, it would give him a new illusion, a new source of hope that her cruel experimentation might be anything other than ceaseless torture.

It was so simple, so easy… Jaune could see his expression mirrored in her eyes, those beautiful emeralds sparkling, he could no longer see any cruelty in there. He’d already convinced himself that it wasn’t there, that she was genuinely compassionate. All he had to do…

He opened his mouth, feeling how dry his throat was, how artless his tongue, as the exhausted Paladin answered.

“No.”

LINE BREAK GLYNDA

Time and schedules and order was what mattered to Glynda. She was a witch of the woods, but unlike her kindred, she was not yoked to nature. She bent it to her will, aligning herself with the schedule of the moon and stars, empowered by the changing of the seasons, and had found the secret arts to make the natural order serve her. Like trees budding in the spring or chipmunks saving for winter, she drew into the natural timetables of the world and drew strength from it.

So disruptions to her schedule were to be met with the harshest, most absolute force available to her. It wasn’t just a setback; it was an insult against her on the most fundamental level. And this… this Paladin thinking he could defy her, even as she stretched him past his breaking point, saw the hope die in his eyes saw the veil of her beguiling words envelop him, and yet, could still hold his head up and tell her no?

She would see him pay for his arrogance.

But Glynda was also a practical woman. Time and time again, she reminded herself that it was this unbreakable will that made him valuable to her. She had subjected him to hexes that would have killed a normal man, had him drink potions she had little certainty on what to expect, and through all of them, he still remained standing.

Well, “standing” in a metaphorical sense. His body had been ravaged by her experimenting and he was in no state to stand up right now. If he had simply broken like she had planned on, she intended to schedule a reprieve from her experiments. Temporary, of course, but time to let him get his strength back, to further wear down his mind until he voluntarily returned to her side as her experimental subject. Perhaps even stoke that vengeance she could see, deep in the recesses of his soul, empower him as her champion and turn him against his former allies… what a truly wicked thing to do!

But no. He was defiant, and so she needed to continue testing him. Even if he might not survive it…

Mmmmm, but that was the problem. She was finding some fascinating results, and she didn’t want to risk breaking him before she could study him more fully! He was disrupting her scheduling, so he had to pay, and yet, he was so interesting that Glynda didn’t want her research to end too soon! A terribly unfortunate position for a witch to find herself in.

And there was another matter that made her less inclined to destroy her unruly prisoner. A matter that involved the two fingers furiously pumping into her pussy at the moment.

Lying back on her luxurious bed, Glynda was “working off” some frustrations left from having to storm off from her interrogation of the Paladin. Jaune’s defiance was aggravating, but more so, it made him… attractive to her. He was so willful, so disorderly, and Glynda had never realized how appealing that was in a man! Particularly the possibility of snuffing it out and making him apologize to her, with his tongue, first on her boots and then… oh YES! RIGHT THERE!

Letting her fingers scratch that itch, Glynda moaned in wanton lust, her left hand snapping to her breast to squeeze and fondle her tit as she fingered herself. Mmmm, yes, she’d make that handsome Paladin pay for his defiance. She’d make him be a good boy, begging for a chance to apologize to his Mistress, groveling at her feet, wearing nothing but a collar, his eyes downcast to not offend her! Yes, she’d let him- oh, yes- let him recover, put that gloriously muscular chest on display as he followed her on his hands and knees, licking her boots clean as he- as he- as he-

OH FUCK!

Glynda’s eyes rolled as she hit her climax. Gasping for air, she felt her hips continue to jerk from the exertion as she panted on her bed. Oh, that felt good! And it’d be even better once she had it for real, with her newest toy dutifully servicing her needs… Benefit after benefit for keeping him alive, so she couldn’t torture him to death, but how could she get him to finally give in?

She idly wondered about seduction as a tool, but she had found feigning empathy for him in the dungeon to be taxing enough as is. She wants a plaything, not a lover, and feigning interest in him, offering him comfort and allowing him to enjoy her body… unthinkable! But...

It becomes more thinkable as she contemplates what she’s discovered of Jaune. Her experiments had begun to turn up strange results, meaningfully strange ones. Glynda was used to strange, but even by her standards, the magic surrounding him was becoming remarkable. Particularly with potions: he seemed to have built up a tolerance for potions that made the initial effects minimal—an expected outcome, his endurance was staggering, more than she suspected even he realized—but allowed the potion to linger within his system and… change.

She wasn’t sure how it was changing, exactly, but she could see that Jaune’s body was becoming a crucible of magical power. Feeding potions to him and allowing them to mix and develop within his body could be a source of utterly tremendous power, and she had no idea how to replicate it because she wasn’t yet sure what was causing it.

Jaune Arc was a unique specimen. Her research into him had been more than to discover whether or not rescue was coming—a minor concern, as far as Glynda was concerned—but to figure out what made him so special. But there was no single factor, rather, a confluence of reasons that made him well-suited for this role as her test subject. His stamina was high, the product of extensive training as a Knight and the various holy protections granted a Paladin. But even for a Paladin, Jaune’s endurance was impressive. The Arc family had a history of great Knights, so perhaps there was a genetic component, but she also suspected there might be something to do with the experiments she’d already subjected him to, which, having been done in the proper, accidental sequence, granted him a

And perhaps it was that iron will, that unbreakable spirit, that gave Jaune Arc his undeniable value to her. But if it’s an accident of fate or some unique characteristic that he alone has, Glynda can’t afford to lose him and now has to consider-

Except… as she glances at her hand, wet and sticky with her juices, she remembers that she’s owed a favor. A favor from a powerful being, and while Glynda doesn’t normally trade with denizens of the netherworld, a boon is a boon and power is power. If that could give her a way to make the willful Sir Arc into her cute little Paladin, well… it would be worth it. Worth it to have him twisted around her finger, worth it to have him worship her pussy and thank her for the pleasure! And above all, worth it so she could study what’s causing these unique findings...

With all that in mind, Glynda began to gather the remaining ingredients—she already had the first for this kind of demon glistening on her fingertips—and began rehearsing the exact specifications of the potion she’d ask for in the bargain. It would have to be powerful… more powerful than even Glynda could craft, but her contact was unmatched in the domain of the amorous… and the erotic. Carefully tracing the sigil with her well-slicked fingers, she felt the tingle of demonic magic course through her. And the way it so pleasantly tingled on her most sensitive areas told her exactly which kind of demon would answer.

But still, she did not let it distract her, even momentarily. Glynda always came prepared and never made mistakes. That was how she reached the position she was in, and only the most careful, the most fastidious research could ensure she stayed on top.

LINE BREAK JAUNE

Sitting up straight meant his wrists didn't hurt as much. But the pain in his wrist had been distracting Jaune from how sore his shoulders were, and now it’s become another reminder that he’s still imprisoned, so his gains had been limited.

Still, defying the witch had buoyed Jaune’s spirits. He didn’t feel strong, but Jaune had stood up to Glynda even at his lowest. Broken down to his bare essentials and he still had the power to resist. But the strength he felt was fleeting. He knew that the witch would return, either with further torture or just subjecting him to a battery of tests until he finally croaked. But if he died, he died with his honor intact. And that was something, something unspeakably precious when he had nothing else to stand on…

But there was something else feeding Jaune strength. Something he tried not to dwell on, but so close to the margin of death itself, Jaune didn’t have the power to resist its allure. A new, delusional hope that was finding life within him, giving him a reason to fight on. While honor invited death, the part of him, the very large part of him that did not want to die clung to this new fantasy. A fantasy of escaping, of evading the witch and fleeing her tower, of somehow making it through the woods and returning to civilization…

And taking revenge.

It wasn’t a calculated plot, no. It was just the wild ravings of his Id, facing death and oblivion and lashing out at everyone he could. All the years of learning ethics and control, learning to quiet the voice that said power meant to rule and the temptations to abuse his power and authority, it had not eliminated that influence. It lurked, deep within him, and now, given a foothold in his anger towards Arslan and with his weakened mental state no longer able to hold it back, it ran wild.

He wanted to snap his chains, to vent his fury, to turn force against his captor, against the traitor who abandoned him, against the entire world that let his life end like this! The two sides warred within him, his long-honed discipline worn down by exhaustion, his inner rage strengthened by its refusal to accept his imminent death. And as time went on, he felt that rage harden within him, becoming a dark and cruel viciousness that he couldn’t banish from his thoughts, no matter how he tried.

The witch’s return, at least, gave some reprieve from his inner struggle, even as his inner darkness whispered what it’d like to do to the witch to leave her less pristine, so to speak, and Jaune gave her a spiteful glare as she smiled and sashayed her way to his side, a vial in hand.

“You’ve done very well to last so long,” she said, making no effort to hide the viciousness behind her eyes, “I’d give you another option to give up, but I feel I’ve taken enough of my time putting up with your foolishness. So drink up, and give this tedious display a rest.”

With that, she thrust the vial to his lips and poured the liquid into his mouth.

Usually, Jaune fought taking down a potion, even if it was in vain. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was her prisoner, but this time, he rationalized, it was over for him, and he’d rather hurry it up and get it over with than continue to drag out his misery. But as the mysterious potion met his tongue, Jaune found his mouth automatically moved to drink it down. It wasn’t particularly tasty, though after going so long in his condition, anything to drink at all was a reprieve. But most potions were foul, bitter or sour things made from repulsive ingredients that had to be choked down—willingly or otherwise—while this was simply… it tasted like water. Ordinary water, neither particularly sweet nor brackish, as much as a drink could taste like nothing, and yet, his tongue, his lips, his throat were all compelled to swallow every last drop. Dutifully, not with passionate zeal, and that made Jaune uncomfortable.

But Glynda saw the worry on his face and leaned in close to leer at and taunt him. “It’s a love potion, my sweet Paladin. Any moment now, you’ll feel its effects, feel all your strength, all your passion… turn towards me. And you’ll thank me for doing it.”

Jaune blanched. This… this was an option he hadn’t foreseen. He expected death, fast or slow coming, but inevitably soon. This would… being Glynda’s puppet was… he felt the darkness deep within him surge, that wrath curdling into a black bile that rose within him, but chained to the wall, there was nothing he could do to vent his fury. She would- she thought she could rob him of his last dignity? He swiveled his gaze to the witch with a hateful glare and tried not to think of how attractive she was while he still had the power to know the black heart beneath a comely face!

“Tasted like-” he coughed, “Tasted like water, witch. And even if it does work, heh, then at least I know you had to pull out every trick you had, just to get me to do even one thing for you.” He punctuated his remark by spitting on the floor, aiming at her shoes. He didn’t have the energy, but the fastidious witch surely knew what he was trying.

Glynda seemed to be expecting an easy victory, and as she’d done so many times in the past, being denied was not something she was used to. Her smugness curdled into the wrath that was never far beneath her serene facade. Her face flushed red as she snapped, “I’ll make you eat those words, Paladin. You’ll beg me to forgive you for your insolence! And I will-”

Jaune shrugged. “You’ll what? I’ll be long gone, and you’ll have to take your frustrations out on a puppet that-”

“DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” she shrieked, pointing a finger and-

Jaune had been hexed before. Been hexed very many times, particularly recently. But this felt… this was different. He felt the lance of pain that blistered through him, but worse, his stomach seemed to- to roil, like a cauldron bubbling over, the flames soaring all around it as Jaune threw his head back and felt all manner of force seem to just blast right through him! It was- it was so many things, pain and light and heat and cold and darkness and the crackle of magic that he couldn’t say what he was feeling without feeling the opposite just as soon. All he knew was it hurt, and as his head dropped, his chin hitting his chest, Jaune really wondered if this was it.

“What...” he heard Glynda’s voice mumble, uncharacteristically unsteady, “What are you… doing to me?”

Jaune looked up. He didn’t know any better than she did, but that unending fire in his gut didn’t mind that she felt the press of power upon her. She seemed unsteady on her feet, and Jaune briefly hoped that whatever had… gone off inside him had hurt her as well. Even as he felt the potion begin to take effect, her golden curls seeming to shine like a halo around her angelic face, her body… by the heavens, those tits, so big and luscious, straining against her outfit… what he wouldn’t give to tear the clothes off her body and repay her for her captivity… but no matter! Even for all her… enchanting, desirable, seizable beauty… he wanted her to hurt.

“Stop it...” she panted, “You can’t… s-stop, how are you- how are you d-doing this to me...”

But Jaune’s libido, roused by the potion, immediately jumped to the thought of having power over the sexy witch. Breathing heavily, Jaune felt that darkness twisting within him like a snake, slipping into whatever had just gone wild in his gut, and he drove it outwards. And as he did that, he saw his captor’s eyes dart fearfully over his body… and yet, she couldn’t pull herself away from him. Her cheeks grew flushed, her breathing, heavy, he could see a trickle of drool beginning to form as she stared, open mouthed at his body.

Feeling a burst of strength, Jaune glared, hatefully at the witch and, in some mad impulse, uttered a command: “Free me.”

Glynda froze. He could see in her eyes that battle raging within her. Jaune didn’t understand whatever was going on, what magical insanity was suddenly giving him some power over his captor, if it would force her to obey him or just give him some mechanism to cause her pain. But he understood willpower. Glynda was a witch, a willworker who bent the natural order to her will. She had willpower to spare.

But Jaune’s will was stronger.

Still, this was a titanic struggle between the two of them, and all he seemed to be able to do was compel her to stay until… until he remembered it was a love potion that was fueling whatever gave him this abnormal power. And the feelings within him was also what was happening within her, and the synthesis...

Summoning from his deepest reserve of strength, his eyes locked on the witch, he hoarsely whispered, “Play with yourself.”

And her arms slowly raised up to her chest, making Glynda moan as she realized she couldn’t resist the order… and then her hands shot to her breasts. With the dam breached by the shock of her unwittingly squeezing her own tits, Glynda’s willpower rapidly tumbled away as she began to knead and fondle herself in a lewd display. Her eyes rolled as she leaned backwards, still upright, but kneeling in a crouch and unable to stop herself from spreading her legs as she gyrated, an obvious sexual heat raging within her. She muttered something, delirious and wild, as one hand reached down into her robes to rub herself while the other tugged at her clothing, trying to fan some air to her obviously overheating body, so clearly unable to resist Jaune’s orders.

“What was that?” he asked, his consciousness roused by the erotic display. “Tell me: what did you just say?”

Her eyes rolled as her mouth opened, speaking as though the words simply spilled out of her. “C-command me,” she whispered, “F-feels good t-to ohhhhhbbbbbeeeeyyyyyy...”

A wicked grin spread across Jaune’s face. This wicked creature had the tables turned on her, and now, justice was his to mete out. But unlike the passive, bloodless justice of his Order, Jaune wanted more. And he was positioned to take it.

“Free me,” he exhaled, feeling the strength return to his limbs, “Free me so that I can pin you to the floor and fuck the bitch out of you!”

The look in her eyes showed Jaune that a part of Glynda knew what a bad idea that was, but that part of her wasn’t in control of her body anymore. Even as her face twisted in agonized concentration, she raised her right hand, making Jaune wonder if she had regained some self control… until she snapped her fingers, and Jaune’s chains sprang open.

Jaune’s arms dropped flat, their sudden release from their shackles making him realize how sore they were, which was why it took him a moment to realize that the witch’s spell had removed all his clothes. What tipped him off was the way Glynda had stopped masturbating, had stopped all movement as she simply stared in open-mouthed awe at his cock.

She stumbled forward, unable to resist the gravitational pull he now had over her, but Jaune wasn’t content with just his freedom. Scraping his hand along the floor of his prison, Jaune knew what he’d first do to the bewitching beauty that had imprisoned him. As she drew closer, his arm lashed out… but not to strike her. No, instead, he flung a fistful of mud and dirt across her face and dress, soiling her pristine appearance. Marking that she had fallen… and what he would do to her.

Grabbing her robes with his filthy hands, he felt the fine fabric give way to the strength that now seemed to flow through him. Savagely tearing her dress to shreds he only paused in the fury he vented upon her when he realized...

Even if Jaune hadn’t been under the effect of a love potion, he would have been moved by the sight of the naked witch. Her skin was flawless, her breasts, enormous, topped with a pair of fat nipples, obviously engorged by her arousal, and her pussy was literally dripping on the floor of the dungeon, haloed by a well-groomed thatch of pubic hair. Clad only in the tatters of her once fine robe and moaning with desperate need for his touch, Jaune had no idea how he was able to ever tear his eyes away from the vision of buxom comeliness before him, particularly with the sudden drop in blood pressure as his dick snapped to attention. But the look on Glynda’s face, that war between desperation, arousal, utter humiliation, and a clear, abject hunger was even more erotic than her naked body, glorious that it may be.

And while his eyes roamed her exposed and inviting nakedness, she was focused on one single point: the shaft of his dick, harder than Jaune had ever felt it before. There wasn’t a Vow of Chastity in his Order, but still… Jaune’s duties had given him little time for companionship, and he had never seen a woman treat his dick like it was the pinnacle of divinity.

“Please,” she mewled, pathetically, “p-please let me… I p-promise I’ll be a good witch… y-you promised y-you’d fuck the… the bitch out of me…”

She… she was pleading with him to fuck her? Oh, Jaune liked this power, liked it more than any he’d been granted by his Order. With a wild grin and a growl of command, he pointed and said, “All fours. I’m taking you like a bitch so you learn your place!”

With a yelp, she quickly scampered into position, her ass raised high as she wiggled it invitingly. He could see her whole body tremble, longing for his touch… no, more than his touch. Jaune had proclaimed that he was going to fuck the bitch out of her, and now she craved his punishment. The justice for all her wickedness. And though Jaune’s limbs were sore and tired, almost numb from his captivity, he staggered to his feet. The only part of him that was working at full capacity was his dick, and it demanded he bury it deep in witch pussy.

Glynda was not more than a few steps away, but with every heavy footfall, Jaune felt a new strength grow within him. From the magic crackling within his gut to the dark whisper that encircled his soul, rejoicing in this opportunity for glorious revenge, to the simple reality of blood flowing properly to his extremities once more, Jaune felt powerful as he bore down on the pathetic cunt who’d only moments ago been his imminent death.

Falling to his knees, Jaune gripped the heavenly globes of Glynda’s creamy, white ass with both hands. She whimpered with need as Jaune paused but a second to savor the power he held over her. This… this was intoxicating. But it wasn’t as good as what would come next. With a roar of long suppressed fury and magically-awoken lust, Jaune slammed his cock into her pussy.

Glynda screamed, a long, orgasmic cry as Jaune groaned, his penis welcomed into Glynda’s eager pussy like a long-lost lover. It was a tight, velvety canal, a perfect sheath for his cock, and Jaune plundered its depths with relish. She squealed like a banshee as Jaune’s balls slapped her with every meaty thrust. Where the energy for this came from, Jaune couldn’t even begin to guess, but when a woman this sexy presented herself for a thorough drilling, Jaune didn’t see the point in questioning it.

But he finally found his voice among the animalistic groans and snarls, crying out, “Take it! Take it, you arrogant- you monstrous- you witch!”

“Punish me, Master!” she squealed, “Punish this stupid bitch-witch! Make me your pet, your loveslave, your personal whore! I- I want it! I want to be your broken slut-pet!”

“I don’t care what you want!” Jaune roared, striking the witch across the buttocks and making her shriek in climax, which gave Jaune the idea to start paddling her full and fulsome backside, making her scream in pleasure as Jaune ruthlessly punished her with his hand as his dick savaged her pussy. Leaving bright red marks on both cheeks, Jaune thrilled at his ability to bring a measure of vengeance against his captor! But not enough, not nearly enough!

He bent over her, humping her like a dog as reached down to grab her giant tits swinging beneath her. He mauled them, cruelly pinching and tugging at her nipples, biting her on her shoulder, and everything he did, Glynda cried out in joy and thanked him for punishing her. She was a naughty bitch and she adored anything that gave Jaune pleasure.

Taking that as a cue, Jaune withdrew from her pussy. Glynda didn’t protest one bit, merely gasped in anticipation as Jaune gripped her by the cheeks and, using his thumbs, pried her asshole open to push his cock into her. Even tighter than her pussy, her bowels wrapped around his invading dick snuggly as Jaune slowly pushed all the way in until the base of his cock was buried in her asshole.

“Th-thank you, Master! Thank you for fucking my ass!” Glynda cried, “Oh, fuck- fuck! Use me! Use my body! I d-deserve it! I DESERVE IT!”

He didn’t need any more prompting than that, savagely sawing in and out of her asshole. Glynda’s cries dissolved into incoherent babbling, mad praise for his sexual potency, his worthiness, his undeniable superiority to her pathetic self. Her praise was occasionally interrupted by the wild spasms of another orgasm, each one making her words more slurred and incoherent as her mind dissolved into nothing more than a lustful slurry, the animating will to make her body a better cock-sleve for her Master.

The dark corruption within Jaune had won out. He reveled in his power over his captor and thrilled in hearing her utterly submit to him. She had been an arrogant bitch and now she was thanking him for fucking her in the ass. This was everything his training as a Knight, his oaths as a Paladin were supposed to deny, and how stupid had that been? It had led to nothing more than betrayal and abandonment, where taking what he wanted and lording his power over those weaker than him had given him this!

That thought toppled Jaune over the edge. Gripping Glynda’s buttocks tightly, he gave her one final spank as, with a roar of victory, he unleashed inside her, pumping shot after shot of his warm, sticky cum into her bowels. It felt good, not only to climax inside his new pet witch, but to embrace the vivaciousness of life! In la petite mort, Jaune defied the greater doom that he had almost succumbed to. And as he roughly yanked his cock out of Glynda’s asshole, leaving to witch to collapse in a heap, Jaune felt more alive than he ever had.

“You’re not done, slut,” he barked, slapping his still hard cock, filthy from his cum, Glynda’s pussy and asshole, and the simple condition of having been a prisoner locked away in a mouldering dungeon.

Glynda, unable to defy him even as her fucked stupid expression suggested she didn’t have much of a will a the moment, rose up to again be mesmerized by the sight of his cock. Without reservation, she scrabbled forwards on all fours to clean it up, taking it in her mouth to worshipfully lick and suck and slobber all over it, swirling her tongue around the head, taking him as deep as she could into her throat, there was no level of cock-worship Glynda wouldn’t lustily take up.

And from there… it was a blur of more and more wild sex. Jaune knew he splattered the witch’s face and tits with his seed, made her slap her tits up and down as she bounced on his cock, had her denounce herself with every vile depravity he could think of, among other wild displays of sexual excess. At some point, Jaune realized Glynda had magically transported them to her bedroom, that he was fucking her on a soft, cushiony bed rather than the hard floor of a dungeon, but even that was secondary in his notice compared to fucking her in every position he knew, then throwing on a few he could imagine for good measure.

By the time he was spent, Jaune felt the exhaustion he had briefly put aside come back to him with a vengeance. The mattress he was on was the single most comfortable thing he’d ever slept on—either because of its extravagant luxuriousness or it was literally enchanted—though the soft cushion of Glynda’s voluptuousness was a close competitor. He wanted to go to sleep for a week, but he knew that there was still a few things left to do.

Taking stock of himself, it felt as though the power had been finally expunged from his body. Though the possibility of the witch regaining her proper state of mind would probably end in his horrible death, Jaune felt it was a fair trade. But if she wasn’t about to recover…

“Slave,” Jaune said, watching how the well-fucked witch shivered with happiness to be addressed, “I don’t… I’m not sure what happened. Is there a chance you might resist my control?”

“I th-think Bad Glynda’s gone forever, Master,” she replied, aghast that she ever was the cruel-hearted witch who had captured her Master. “I- I promise you, sir, I won’t let her ever come back! I’m your good witch now, I promise! Forever and ever!”

Jaune leaned back into the pillows, relieved to know that he would have time to rest and recover… and time so he could really enjoy the witch. But that reminded him…

“You will be,” he said, his voice a stern command, “But you still have to pay for your crimes, witch.”

“Y-yes, Master,” she replied, in an appropriately timid voice, “I… I deserve every cruelty you can imagine. I did such horrible things to so many people, and to you… I will never be forgiven, so please, use my powers, my knowledge, my body,” Jaune did not miss how her thighs rubbed together in anticipation of how he might use her, “however you will, you are… you are the most glorious and perfect man I have ever seen, and I will do everything in my power to ensure you get everything you deserve, Master!”

Everything he deserved… Jaune idly thought about what that might mean. He’d sworn vows to live a life of poverty and humility when he entered his Order, but now, he was a “dead” man, after all. And… and he’d been betrayed by one of his Order. And that turned Jaune’s thoughts towards a darker outcome.

Glynda seemed to understand his thoughts as she quietly added, “If Master would desire that I use my magic in any way… it would be my greatest pleasure to make sure that everyone saw how glorious and worthy you are. They all should understand what I now do...”

All? The treacherous Arslan begging for forgiveness was one thing, but he could… build up to it, couldn’t he? There were others that the dark corruption inside him reminded him of, of all the long-suppressed desires that lurked within. Stroking his witch-pet’s hair, he knew he had the power to claim all of them, to make the Keep his personal palace… and it sounded like a very, very good plan.

But… he had to rest first.

LINE BREAK CINDER

Well, well, well, wasn’t this something…

Cinder Fall passed like a shadow through the witch’s tower. Or, perhaps, the witch’s former tower, its previous occupant finding a much more pressing matter to concern herself with. Cinder had expected the raucous, week-long bacchanal, but she was surprised to see it wasn’t in the witch’s favor as the Paladin led her from her tower, practically on a leash. Turnabout was both fair play and hilarious, but this… this was a wholly unexpected outcome. Cinder had agreed to the compact with Glynda because she thought the idea of a corrupted Paladin in the service of a witch would be amusing. She hadn’t foreseen it might backfire on the witch somehow. Particularly not a witch like Glynda, who was admirably skilled at staying a step ahead of the price of hubris.

Paging through Glynda’s notes, Cinder began to piece together what might have caused it. Such a curious specimen, this Jaune Arc. A living crucible of magic… perhaps just for potions, but Cinder suspected there was more to him… the sort of information Queen Salem would reward her for. But why content herself with just the Queen’s reward when a figure of such unwitting potential power was easily within her reach?

Yes, she could see the plan forming now. Let the fallen Paladin embrace hedonism, let his new slave shower him in power and women, let him become the epitome of all he once wasn’t, and once he was fully drunk on power and careless in his rule, Cinder could observe him. Assess him, figure out how this power worked and then… when there wasn’t a possibility of failure, unlike that arrogant fool witch, she would swoop in and claim him.

To present to the Queen, of course. Cinder was a succubus, but her boundless desires were tempered by reason, and she knew that a single magical oddity wasn’t enough to unseat the Queen of Hell.

Though… reading more of Glynda’s notes—she was such a copious note taker, all the better for Cinder!—she began to wonder how far this power of magnification went… maybe this lowly mortal would be enough to deliver Hell itself to Cinder…

But she wasn’t going to lose herself to fantasy and risk setting her reach beyond her grasp. Seeing Glynda reduced to an airheaded bimbo by her blind adoration for her prisoner was reminder enough that care needed to be taken in this. But she had time, and besides… watching a fallen Paladin turn the heroes of the realm into his personal stable of whores would be quite the delicious little interlude while she made her calculations!