Cambrian’s Emporium of Everything (Multiple Settings)

A/N: This piece was originally written in two parts back in 2020.

Themes: Degradation, Dom/Sub, Fucked Silly

Summary: Based off of a divergence during the scene where Henrietta tries to give Geralt a dressing down. The Duchess has some words for our Witcher, but Geralt isn't having any of it. He smacks Henrietta down, only to awaken something positively THIRSTY in the Duchess' soul.

-x-X-x-

"My patience is at an end, Geralt! Where is he? Where is Dettlaff?"

Not for the first time, Geralt of Rivia finds his patience with his current patron close to snapping. In all fairness, out of the many, many examples of royalty that Geralt has had to deal with throughout his years, the sovereign of Toussaint, Duchess Anna Henrietta, is one of the nicer ones. She was a ruler that enjoyed the absolute admiration of her people without needing to torture, repress, and execute dissenters on a regular basis.

And yet, even she could be overly much, a lot of the time. She was, after all, still a Duchess. As a matter of fact, if Toussaint were not under the rule of the Nilfgaardian Empire, she would likely be a Queen. And she certainly acted like a Queen as well, which sometimes meant acting like a spoiled brat who had not yet gotten her way.

Still, Geralt of Rivia is nothing but honest. He's always been the sort to be blunt, even if at times he can also be rather taciturn and stoic, especially when dealing with monarchs. All the same, he just doesn't have it in him to beat around the bush with Henrietta this time around.

"Don't know. I lost his trail."

After all he's already accomplished for the Duchess so far, Geralt figures he's due at least some leniency, right? Well, apparently Anna Henrietta doesn't think so…

"Is this all you have to say?"

Hands clasped together, Henrietta bears down on him, glaring. Geralt grits his teeth and tries to keep his calm in the face of such arrogance. He's used to it, he has been for a long time, but that doesn't make it any less irritating.

"I respect Your Grace. All I can say is the truth."

For a moment, it seems as if the Duchess might accept this, might back down and leave him to the work she originally hired him for. There's a beat of silence… and then Henrietta speaks, and every word out of her mouth is like a stab to Geralt's self-control.

"Ahh. At times, I hunt foxes. Do you know how it works? The Ducal Huntsman releases the hounds. They catch the fox's scent, chase the animal down, and lead the battue to it… all within an hour."

As she speaks, she faces members of her court, as if this is as much for those watching as it is for him. Which… it probably is. Making it no less irritating when she turns towards him again with that condescending tone still on her admittedly pretty lips.

"You, Witcher, have had a week. As well as the aid of my most excellent knights! Yet, you've tracked absolutely nothing down at all! I've begun to suspect my beagles might have done a better job!"

It's not the first time that the White Wolf has been compared to dogs. Not even the first time that he's been compared to hunting hounds in particular. And the sad truth of it is, Geralt can even understand why Henrietta is doing this, why she's acting this way. Because it works. Because she has been raised from birth to be arrogant and in charge. Because she knows how to present the face of leadership and rulership to her people, and this is as much for the sake of those in her court as it is to drive point the home to him.

And yet… and yet, Geralt is tired. He's tired of being talked down to by nobility like the Duchess. He's tired of being treated like little better than a dog. Henrietta believes she can talk to him this way because of his reputation as a professional and because of just how many guards she has at her command. She thinks herself safe, and she thinks him easily cowed.

Geralt has lived a long time letting people believe that of him. He's bowed and bent at all the right places to avoid causing too much trouble. They all seem to forget the handful of times he's snapped and done what he wanted, damn the consequences. Usually Geralt is grateful for that, but today, in this moment, after all the BULLSHIT he's dealt with in Toussaint, especially after finding out so much of it can be laid to rest at the feet of Henrietta's own sister…

He's done. Not so done that he'll draw his sword and start swinging, maybe, but if there's one thing that the last few years have taught him, it's that he has more than just the two options. So, far from backing down or replying with something sarcastic but ultimately lacking in substance, Geralt clenches his jaw and steps forward, invading the Duchess' personal space as he looms over her.

Watching Anna Henrietta freeze up is gratifying, even as he ignores the guards dropping their hands to their swords. They don't draw, because for the moment at least, he's just talking, and Henrietta is just listening.

"Don't presume to belittle me, Duchess. I am not one of your knights. I am not one of your beagles. I am not a DOG for you to bring to heel, and unlike these sycophants you surround yourself with, I am under no obligation to grovel before you, nor cater to your fragile ego. We both know that, if not for me, you, your sister, and everyone here would be nothing but vampire fodder, while the city itself would be little more than a vampire hunting ground by this point."

Geralt pauses to take a breath, but he's on a role and seeing as Henrietta hasn't yet seen fit to interrupt him, he continues on with the punchline.

"Dettlaff isn't a fox for one of your beagles to hunt down, he's an immortal being that's wandered this continent long before you were even born. I'm the only hope you have of defeating him, so you'd do well not to alienate your only chance of survival."

When he's finally clearly done talking, there's absolutely silence in the courtyard, save for the crackling of the lit braziers on the edges, and the cold night wind that's ghosting through the area. Henrietta's court is staring with wide eyes at the two of them, while Henrietta is in turn staring with wide eyes at HIM. Finally, though, those eyes narrow and she seems to regain some measure of her composure.

"… You tread on thin ice, Witcher. Very thin. Wisdom demands you choose your words more cautiously."

Maybe once he would have taken that and let it go, maybe once he would have accepted the admonishment in silence and let the Duchess think she'd cowed the mighty, belligerent monster hunter. But he's just not in the mood right now, and frankly, he's done playing nice with a woman who doesn't have any true hold over him. Especially given just how much soft political power Geralt holds for the first time in his entire life. Power that Henrietta either seems unaware of or has dismissed out of hand.

"Save your threats, Duchess. If you think you or your knights scare me, think again. I have been active in this world since the turn of the ninth century. By the time any of you here were even born, I had traveled these lands and slayed monsters you couldn't even dream of for hundreds of years. I've fought dragons, vampires, and laid low the Wild Hunt. If you think a few guards dressed in fancy plate armor are enough to intimidate me, you are deluded."

He pauses briefly, just long enough for Henrietta to start to gather herself up for a rebuttal, only to speak over her once more.

"And before you think of exerting your non-existent authority over me, of threatening me with your political influence, let me remind you just who it is you're talking to, because I think you may have forgotten. You may be cousin to Emhyr, but I raised his heir as my own daughter. The Future Empress of Nilfgaard has claimed me as her father. If she were to find out you'd mistreated me, how long do you think your already tenuous hold on Toussaint would really last?"

That causes another hushed silence to fall over those gathered in the courtyard. They'd been murmuring amongst each other as he spoke up until this point, but Geralt hadn't cared. His attention was solely on Henrietta, on the Duchess' reaction. As it is now, as her mouth clicks shut at his words, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the realization that he's right.

Feeling quite unlike himself, but also feeling more in the right than he has in a long, long time, Geralt leans in, going for the finishing blow.

"Without your guards, without Nilfgaard, you're just a woman in a fancy dress with delusions of grandeur. Never forget that I'm the one doing YOU a favor here, not the other way around. Your gold, I could take it or leave it. Your vineyard, we both know you only gave me, so you no longer had to worry about it. Don't expect me to be grateful for the opportunity to work for you, Duchess. The only reason I'm still here is because I'm a Witcher, Dettlaff is a monster, and I hunt monsters. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

For a moment, the silence holds. Geralt is more than ready for a fight if it comes to it. It'd be utterly ridiculous, but he's had monarchs and nobility choose utterly ridiculous options before. As such, it's not completely out of the question that the Duchess would call for his head, even in the midst of the situation she's in, even with how dangerous she must know he is.

Her knights and guards look undeniably nervous about the possibility, after Geralt's rant. They still have their hands on the pommels of their swords, but they look more ready to draw them in self-defense then to attack at the moment, leaning back as they are, not a single line of aggression in any of their bodies. Perhaps they're finally recognizing that when you hire a Witcher, you're hiring a monster to hunt other monsters.

Perhaps Henrietta has realized that too, because when she finally responds… the Duchess of Toussaint bows her head. Her hands still clasped in front of her in a ladylike manner, Anna Henrietta… apologizes.

"I-I understand, Witcher. I… apologize for my words. I spoke out of turn."

That gets no ends of gasps and murmurs from those surrounding them, but it's a testament to Anna Henrietta's reputation that Geralt doesn't see many looks of scorn or disdain directed her way. In fact, most of the men and women in the courtyard aren't looking at the cowed, apologetic Duchess… they're looking at him with newfound respect, awe, and reverence in their eyes. Having THE Anna Henrietta apologize to him publicly seems not to have damaged her reputation at all… but it's certainly done a lot to help his, not that it needed it.

Geralt just snorts derisively, about to unthinkingly accept the Duchess' apology, when they're suddenly interrupted by a wounded guard with news of vampires attacking the city. From there, Geralt pushes the confrontation with Henrietta fully from his mind and focuses on the more important matter at hand… vampire hunting.

-x-X-x-

He's still not really thinking about their confrontation as he makes his way down the corridor towards the Duchess' quarters. He's practically forgotten about it by this point, in everything that's happened sense. Though, Geralt can't help but feel a smattering of pride for how it had all turned out. It was unfortunate that Dettlaff had to die, but at the same time, Geralt was ultimately unsurprised that the Master Vampire had forced his hand on that front.

As human-like as some vampires could act, at the end of the day, they were NOT human. They could never truly be human again, not even Regis. With that general lack of humanity came some purely inhuman decisions. Dettlaff was never going to stop, he couldn't stop, not in the face of Syanna's betrayal. In the end, Geralt had to put him down.

But even if Dettlaff's death was inevitable, Syanna's was not. He'd saved the girl, and in this case the girl was the Duchess of Toussaint's long-lost sister. More than saving Syanna, he'd also managed to get through to her, managed to get her to forgive Henrietta for their parents' mistakes. At the end of the day, there was a happy ending for most of the people involved. That was more than Geralt could say of many of his adventures, so he was chalking this one up to a win in his book.

He figured that was why Anna Henrietta wanted to meet with him in private before the public ceremony where she would be rewarding him for his service to Toussaint. She likely wanted to give him her personal thanks in a less formal setting, before having to act the part of the Duchess in front of all of her subjects. Geralt didn't begrudge her that, truly he didn't.

Coming to a stop at her door, he knocks. Upon hearing a muffled 'Come in!' from inside, Geralt enters her quarters to find the Duchess sat at an extravagant vanity, looking at herself in the mirror. She's already all done up for the ceremony, it would seem, as none of her servants are around fussing over her. At his entrance, she turns and looks to him, a surprisingly soft smile on the usually sharp and hard-edged woman's face.

"Ah, Geralt… thank you for coming."

With a grunt, Geralt crosses his arms over his chest and inclines his head just enough to be respectful as he responds.

"Of course, Duchess."

For a moment, Henrietta looks… conflicted. She bites her lower lip in a startling display of vulnerability and rings her hands as she stands from the vanity.

"Please… call me Anarietta. Tis was those closest to me refer to me as."

Raising an eyebrow at that, Geralt hums noncommittally in the back of his throat.

"I wasn't aware we were that close, Anarietta."

Seeming so unsure of herself, even blushing a bit, the Duchess steps forward, only to pause… and then step forward again. She's only a foot or so away from him now, as she continues to wring her hands nervously.

"We… we could be, Geralt of Rivia… White Wolf. I-If you wished, you could take the Duchess of Toussaint to your bed."

He smells it on the air then… her arousal. Even as she's confessing her attraction to him, Geralt's eyes are widening slightly as his nostrils flare open and he breathes in her sheer need. She's wet right now, and Geralt's enhanced senses are bombarding him with her lust. But he's been around for a long, long time. He has plenty of self-control when it comes to resisting the urge to jump a lustful woman.

Still, part of him is more than surprised… part of him is simply baffled.

"… Where the hell is this coming from, Anarietta?"

Blushing openly now, and smiling shyly, the gorgeous Duchess ducks her head, fiddling with a lock of her hair and ultimately tucking it back behind her ear.

"I… I wish I could say it was you saving my sister that did the trick, Geralt… but no, it was before that. Do you remember? Our… confrontation right before Dettlaff and his vampires attacked the city?"

Furrowing his brow, Geralt slowly nods. He hadn't forgotten, he'd just set it aside as ultimately unimportant. Now that she's bringing it up though… it'd certainly felt good putting Anarietta in her place. But then of course it had. He hadn't expected her to come away from it with positive feelings for him though.

"No one… no one has ever talked to me like that before. Not since my late husband, but he… he was not a good man. Not like you, Geralt of Rivia. You, who have traveled these lands for centuries. You, who have slain monsters and men alike for their evil. You saw in me a spoiled brat rather than the elegant and confident Duchess I portray myself as… I want… I want you to continue to treat me like that. I want you to punish me for my arrogance, for my impudence. Please… please make me your woman."

Outwardly, Geralt doesn't so much as twitch in response to Anarietta's confession. He's had women pull a one-eighty on him before, to be fair. He's had beautiful nobles and sorceresses alike who proved to be quite fond of being 'made his woman', of being dominated and fucked by the great and powerful Witcher. And yet, even still, inwardly Anarietta's confession has him rocking back on his heels.

Not because it's that surprising that the prim and proper Duchess would be hiding a dark side, given she's had to spend her entire life in control… but because Geralt has to say no, and he's not really used to saying no. And yet…

"No."

Anarietta's eyes widen at that, her jaw dropping open in surprise. At the same time, in complete contradiction, her aroused smell only grows stronger in Geralt's flared nostrils, his rejection serving to turn her on even further.

"N-No? I offer you everything and you reject me?"

She sounds more wondrous and in awe of him, than angry and outraged. Yeah, she wants it bad. Snorting, Geralt shakes his head.

"I've already got a lover, Duchess. I'm not looking for a woman to warm my bed."

For a moment, Anarietta is silent as she processes this. Then, she looks at him as a new spark enters her eyes.

"Then what about having open access to a Duchess' bed? I… I do not have to be your lover, Geralt of Rivia. I will be content as your toy, here in Toussaint, always available for whatever it is you desire. I-In fact, it would be better that way, would it not? Less… disruptive for both of us. I can make myself available to you whenever you need me, White Wolf. Just please, show me what it is to be put in my place by a good man."

Fuck, she must be speaking from the heart, because there's no way she could possibly know how much her words are doing it for him. But then, knowing that she means every bit of it is even more of a turn on for the Witcher. He grits his teeth as his cock begins to grow a bit harder in his armor. He has to remain strong…

"… I shouldn't…"

Seeming to sense his reluctant interest, but also that he's already starting to slip away, Anarietta goes for broke. Before his very eyes, she reaches down and rips the skirts of her dress away from her body again, much like she did some days before when she needed to be able to ride horseback at a galloping pace all of the sudden.

However, this time around, tearing away the bottom half of her dress, the Duchess reveals that she's not wearing anything underneath. The white leggings she had on the other day are nowhere to be seen, and in their place is just pale, smooth, blemish-free flesh, all the way up and down her legs, her thighs… and even her cunt. Or is it a pussy when it's a Duchess? Either way, the monarch's twat is fully exposed by her sudden ripping away of her skirts, leaving her on display as she drops to her knees, right then and there, and presents herself to him.

"Please, Geralt… you do not have to promise yourself to me, you do not have to be mine. It would be enough for me to be yours, to be allowed to service you, oh mighty Witcher… to ensure that you are finally given the respect you deserve from one of my kind, from that of a noblewoman."

Growling, angry at Anarietta for putting him in this compromising situation but also angry at himself for thinking of going through with it, Geralt glares down at the whorish Duchess.

"… You're no Duchess, no noblewoman. You're a whore. A slut."

Rather than his words shaming Anarietta into pulling her offer back so they can both get on with their lives, they have the opposite effect on her. Shuddering in pleasure as his condescending insults wash over her, Anarietta moans and mewls.

"Y-Yes… but only for you, G-Geralt. I will gladly be your whore, your slut… your pet. Please, I-!"

Her self-degradation is cut off by Geralt finally caving in with another loud growl. Reaching down, he undoes the clasps on his armor that allow him to easily take a piss whenever need be. His cock flops out of its confines, already half-hard as he steps forward and grabs Anarietta by her crown. She shuts up as he rubs his cock all over her face, using her crown as a handhold.

Thanks to the way that the headwear is laced through her carefully made hair-do, it's basically the same as gripping her by the hair… though he has to admit, deep down, that there's something undeniably more fun about gripping the crown over gripping her hair.

"I'm tired of hearing you talk, slut. You want to prove you're worthy of my attention? Put that mouth of yours to better use."

"Y-Yes, gladly, I-mmph!"

Rolling his eyes, Geralt shoves his cock past Anarietta's pillowy lips as he growls down at her.

"Shut. Up."

And shut up she does, turning her attentions entirely towards the task he's laid at her feet. As he holds her by her crown, Geralt saws in and out of the Duchess' mouth with his growing cock, using her oral orifice like he would a whore's cunt. Back and forth, back and forth, and groaning as he does it. Of course, the experience is not without its… hiccups.

"No teeth, bitch!"

Anarietta's eyes go wide and she mumbles out an apology around his cock before being more careful. Growling, Geralt goes a little harder as a result, even as he calls out 'suggestions' to her that are more like outright demands. Doesn't stop her from following every single one though.

"Use your tongue more. Don't leave your hands just sitting in your lap. It's obvious you've never done this before. You want to impress me? Put your back into it, whore."

And so, the Duchess does. With his instruction, she doesn't just suck his cock… she downright worships it. Her hands come up out of her lap and begin to caress and fondle and massage his heavy ball sack, while her tongue starts to writhe against his length, swirling around his cockhead whenever he pulls back enough for her to do so.

Thrusting in and out of her mouth, Geralt begins to pick up the pace, testing the inexperienced Duchess' limits. He wouldn't be surprised if this were her first time ever performing fellatio in her entire extremely privileged young life. But that doesn't mean he's going to take it easy on her. Or at least, he says that to himself, but there's no denying that he's not as rough with her as he might have been with some of the more… experienced women he knows.

Doesn't stop Geralt from face fucking Anarietta right there in her own bedroom, however.

"Glugkh! Glugkh! Glugkh!"

Drool and saliva collect on the Duchess' chin soon enough, dripping down onto her extravagant, expensive finery. The top half of her dress remains on her person after all and is soon stained and soaked with her own saliva and a bit of his precum. Meanwhile, tears are beginning to well up involuntarily in Anarietta's eyes as she chokes and gags on his cock. Watching her gurgle on his member is quite the exquisite sight, especially as he remembers all the ways she belittled and talked down to him since he'd arrived back in Toussaint.

With a growl, Geralt speeds up once more, drawing even louder choking from the Duchess of Toussaint as he uses her mouth, esophagus, and gullet for his own pleasure. And yet, her hands never stop fondling his balls, her tongue never stops slipping and siding along the underside of his cock, and he doesn't once feel her teeth on his member again beyond some unintentional grazing that he barely even notices.

"That's right, bitch… take it. Fucking take my cock…"

"GAGKH! GAGKH! GAGKH!"

He's already getting close, but Geralt refrains from warning Anarietta, even as he grips her crown with both hands and drags the helplessly depraved woman up and down his length all the faster. The only 'warning' she receives is his loud groan as he begins to spill his seed down her unsuspecting throat, resulting in some truly mighty choking from the poor woman. His cum comes back up as Geralt knew it would and explodes out of both the sides of her mouth and her nostrils as her eyes go wide and her cheeks puff up from the sheer amount of white, hot essence he's capable of producing.

All the while, Geralt holds her to his crotch, refusing to let her go even when she starts to struggle involuntarily from the lack of air. If she can't handle even this much, then he'll end things here, is his thinking. He waits until he's finished and only then doe she pull back, letting Anarietta slide back off of his length inch by inch, until finally he leaves her mouth with a pop, and she in turn falls back on her bare-naked ass, panting and gasping heavily for air.

She looks positively exquisite like this, in Geralt's humble opinion. From the cum coating her face and her drool-covered dress, to her naked lower half where her pussy is still sopping wet, even now. He's tempted to just get down to business and fuck her immediately… but for the moment, he refrains. Instead, the Witcher cocks his head to his side and grunts as Anarietta finally recovers enough to look at him with tear-filled, glassy eyes.

"You've had a taste now, Duchess. If we continue, it doesn't get any easier. You want me to fuck you, want me to treat you like trash, want me to make you my woman on the side? It'll be more of what you just got. Last chance to back off and back out of this."

The Duchess' eyes flicker between his stony gaze and his cock, which is already hard again and ready to go. Geralt just stares down at her, waiting for her decision. Just like she wasn't the first noblewoman to want a go at the big bad Witcher, she wouldn't be the first to quickly realize she'd bitten off more than she could chew either. No skin off his back either way.

But he has to admit, Anarietta impresses him just a little when she opens her legs and reaches down between them to spread her pussy lips wide with two of her fingers. Licking her cum-coated lips and slurping his seed off of her face, Anarietta looks up at him, as eager and slutty as ever. She's the real deal, he realizes… and it excites Geralt more than he cares to admit.

"I am yours, Witcher. Do with me as you will~"

The breathless anticipation in her voice is obvious. Even after he practically raped her throat, she still wants more. Anna Henrietta, Duchess of Toussaint… is a masochist. Chuckling, Geralt reaches down and grabs Anarietta by her crown again, yanking her from her ass back onto her knees. Then, he goes one further and pulls her all the way up to her feet.

"Get up. Come on now. You really think I'm going to fuck you on your back on the floor when there's a perfectly serviceable bed right there?"

"Y-Yes! J-Just tell me how you want me, Witcher, and I will service yo-oomph!"

Rolling his eyes, Geralt tosses Henrietta face down onto the bed. Before she can even react, he's up behind her, grabbing her by her hips and pulling her ass high into the air. When she tries to lift her head, he grabs a fistful of her extremely complex hairstyle and forces her face back down into the bed.

"Face down, ass up. That's how a slut gets fucked, Anarietta. That's how I'm going to fuck you. Got it?"

"Yes sir… please, fuck your worthless whore with your big… fat… cock…"

Hearing that come from Anarietta of all people certainly does it for him. And after all of the trouble she and her sister have put him through, Geralt deserves a little bit of revenge, does he not? Grabbing the Duchess by her hips, he angles his cock just so… and proceeds to give her exactly what she's asked him for, feeding his throbbing, pulsating length right into her sopping wet cunt then and there on the spot.

He's not all that surprised when Anarietta squeals like a stuck pig.

"S-So big!"

Chuckling darkly, Geralt rears back a hand and delivers a harsh spanking to her upturned ass, even as he begins to thrust away inside of her tight, wet cunt. It's clearly been a while for her, but even if it hadn't…

"Y-You're the biggest I've ever had, Geralt! My husband… not even Dandelion can compare! You're filling up every inch of me! Don't stop! Please, I beg of you, don't stop!"

And so, he doesn't. Continuing to alternate between ass cheeks, Geralt proceeds to beat Anarietta's ass like a rented drum, even as he fucks down into her with powerful, deep, penetrating thrusts. His smacks against her pale flesh quickly deliver results in the form of reddening, even as Anarietta squeals and squirms beneath him. Her legs are together behind him as he kneels on either side of them, and her feet sometimes hit him as they kick back and forth, but Geralt pays it no mind.

He's too busy having his way with the slutty little Duchess under him, enjoying the way she shrieks and screams as she creams herself on his cock. And she creams herself quite often too, orgasming swiftly after he first enters her, and then cumming again and again along his length as he continues to delve the depths of her tight, wet cunt.

"You're so deep inside of my… of my TWAT! Deeper than any man has ever been before! Oh, Witcher, you're ruining MEEEEEE~"

Grinning wickedly, Geralt keeps it up, 'ruining her' to his heart's content. She knew what she was in for after he fucked her face as recklessly and ruthlessly as he did. She had a chance to end it there, but she wanted more… and it's obvious to him as he slams up against her cervix, as he spanks her ass, as she tightens up beautifully around his cock, that she doesn't regret it for a moment. The Duchess of Toussaint is a horny, needy, submissive little masochistic bitch… and she's all his, it would seem.

With a loud groan, Geralt's thrusting becomes a bit more sporadic and uneven the more he plows her face down form into the bed. His cock is throbbing with a need to cut loose, and Anarietta's pussy walls are milking him for all they're worth. It's fine though, he's a Witcher… which means he has no problems whatsoever with firing his entire load directly into the beautiful Duchess' womb. Not like there can be any potential complications, due to his sterility.

And so, the White Wolf pumps a goodly amount of hot, thick, viscous cream right into his newly minted cum dump. He paints her insides white and fills her womb up to the utter brim before he's finally done. Except… he's not quite done, just yet. Pulling out of Anarietta's well-fucked, newly-ruined twat slowly, Geralt doesn't let go of her hips, even as he slides his messy dick up between her reddened butt cheeks.

She really does have just the perfect ass, a whore's ass in Geralt's expert opinion. She was made to be fucked face down like this, made to be bent over and taken by a man… by him, apparently. And yet, Geralt isn't the kind of man who leaves the job unfinished.

"That was… t-that was amazing…"

Anarietta's dazed murmur draws a derisive snort from Geralt of Rivia, even as he yanks her back all of the sudden, bringing her up off of her face and onto her hands and knees, positioning her ass so that it's pulled back rather than leaned forward, leaving him perfectly lined up with the next hole he's about to conquer.

"We're not done yet, whore. You've got one more hole for me to use."

Anarietta's head whips around at that, her eyes widening as her face goes white beneath the dried cum coating it. She can feel him already beginning to prod her anus with his messy, lubed cock.

"Y-You can't be s-serious! That… that's not-ah!"

SMACK!

Delivering a stinging spanking to her already-reddened backside, Geralt doesn't stop pressing into her sphincter for even a moment as he raises a brow at her.

"Not what? Not permitted? Are you trying to dictate terms now? And you were doing so well, too. You'd almost convinced me…"

He makes the slightest move to pull away, not even truly letting go of her, which means she feels him make that aborted attempt at drawing back, which immediately causes her to cry out.

"W-Wait! Please, I w-would never presume to try and t-tell you what to do with me, your worthless w-whore… if my a-ass is what you want… then please… t-take my ass, Witcher."

She's obviously terrified, but also turned on at her own submission and his complete domination. In the end, she's clearly expecting not to enjoy this at all. Geralt just smirks, knowing better from his past experiences with women just like her. In his experience, the bigger the stick lodged up the bitch's ass, the more of an anal freak they were. Anarietta might not have the LARGEST stick lodged up her ass that Geralt has encountered, but it's still pretty large.

With a grunt, he finally thrusts forward rather than simply teasing his way in. His cock, already a couple of inches past her sphincter, plows into Anarietta's bowels much deeper, sinking in several inches in one go. The Duchess of Toussaint shrieks as she's anally deflowered, but there's no true lasting pain or tearing, thanks to just how lubed up his cock was from fucking her dripping wet twat.

Growling now, Geralt grips tightly at Anarietta's hips and begins to thrust in and out of her ass, taking her on her hands and knees like that, fucking her doggystyle. It appeals to his sense of poetic justice, truth be told. She'd compared him to her beagles, to her hunting hounds… and now he was fucking her like she was a bitch in heat herself, slamming home into her asshole from behind as her back arched and her head tilted upwards, howls and shrieks leaving her throat.

Acting mostly on instinct, Geralt suddenly reaches out and grabs Anarietta by her crown, still lodged firmly in her hair-do as it is. He yanks her head back with it, forcing her spine to arch beautifully. His other hand comes around and grabs the front of her dress, the part of her clothing that she has yet to remove. With the enhanced strength of the Witcher, the multiple layers of court finery that a Duchess is expected to wear over her bosom are torn apart in just a couple of forceful tugs.

Exposing her upper half in the same way she's already done with her lower half, Geralt ultimately wraps the hand on her crown around her neck instead, holding her firmly by the throat as he uses his tearing hand to maul and knead and grip at her poor breasts, dealing just as much abuse out to them as he had her ass while he was fucking her cunt.

Now it's her ass he's fucking, and despite being in pain early on, the agonized cries are fading away, slowly transforming into pleasured squeals. Geralt just smirks as Anarietta's calls become music to his ears, the melody of her pleasure from being butt fucked by the White Wolf washing over him and only egging him on even further.

Again, and again he thrusts forward into her ass, again and again he pounds into her rectum with all his might. His lubed up cock goes deep into her unprepared virgin bowels, and he doesn't stop fucking her anus for even a moment. In time, Anarietta completes the transformation into eager butt-slut entirely, her first orgasm heralded by a squeal of ecstasy, followed by further words of self-degradation.

"Oooooh~ I-I had no idea! I didn't know it would feel THIS good! Please, give me more! I'm sorry for talking back! Punish me by fucking my ass harder! Take my derriere as your property, take all of my worthless self as your property!"

Grunting, Geralt gives her what she wants, spurred on to greater and greater heights by her words. He doesn't let up for even a moment, and in turn, Anarietta remains before him on her hands and knees, moaning and squealing and screaming at the top of her lungs through anal orgasm after anal orgasm. When his own third release finally begins to arrive, however, Geralt doesn't deign to cum inside of Anarietta's ass.

No, instead he pulls out at the last second, wanting nothing more than to mark the broken Duchess as his property in the proper way. The cum itself may not last forever, but for a relatively inexperienced and sheltered woman like Anarietta, the sensation of being covered in his seed will stay with her for eternity. And so, Geralt of Rivia paints the Duchess of Toussaint's back profile with his cum, getting it all the way up to her hair as he covers her from head to ass in his seed.

He doesn't pull away until it stops coming, until his release is done. When it's finally finished… he's quite content with the messy bit of art he's created, even as Anarietta slumps forward, prone on the bed before him. Reaching out, Geralt gives one of her ass cheeks a hearty squeeze and then a hefty slap before finally climbing off the bed.

"Fine. You've convinced me you might be worth visiting every once in a while. I'll come around and fuck you whenever and wherever I desire going forward. Happy, slut?"

Mewling, Anarietta turns over onto her back, seeming uncaring of getting her bedding soaked in his essence as she looks at him with heavily hooded eyes.

"I am… over the moon with happiness that I have proven worthy of your visits. I am at your disposal, White Wolf. Use me as you will when you will."

Snorting, Geralt begins to get cleaned up and ready to go. Though, he suspects the ceremony will be… postponed for at least a while, given the state he's put dear Anarietta in. He doesn't offer to help her out with that though… she can figure it out on her own. He'll leave the politicking and all of that to her and stick to what he does best.

Hunting monsters and bedding beauties.

-x-X-x-

She's really not paying attention. She knows this, and yet the Duchess of Toussaint makes no effort to fix the issue. Mostly because she doesn't really consider it an issue to be fixed at this point. So what if she's not paying attention to the going ons of court? So what if she's barely hearing every third word that this pompous windbag of a noble if spouting in her direction?

Maybe it's important, but probably not. It certainly can't be as important as daydreaming about the White Wolf. Geralt of Rivia hadn't just rocked Anarietta's world, he'd upended it. With that first encounter, he'd left her more than curious, and fully ready for more. With every encounter since then, he'd addicted her to his cock, to his rough handling, to his every degrading word all the more.

Was it any wonder that the sex-crazed Duchess was beginning to neglect her duties more and more? Was it any wonder that she'd rather sit there upon her throne fantasizing about Geralt walking into the room, rather than listening to this idiot she couldn't even remember the name of prattle on about this or that?

Wait… no, she wasn't fantasizing anything! That was Geralt who'd just walked into the throne room from a side passage, waltzing right in and looking at her with those judging golden eyes, his hands crossed over his chest. The instant that Anarietta realizes this, she's on her feet and talking over the windbag who she'd barely even been listening to.

"Court is adjourned. Clear the room."

Quiet murmurings immediately spark up among the nobility. Eyes alight upon Geralt, and while many are confused, some understand immediately. It embarrasses Anarietta just a bit, that they've sussed her out so easily… but at the same time, she can't really be bothered to care at this point. So what if she's being obvious about it? So long as her orders are obeyed, it matters not.

In regard to that, her orders being obeyed, the idiot who'd been talking looks like he's startling to build up a righteous head of steam.

"Duchess, I-!"

Geralt's gloved hand comes down on the man's shoulder, no doubt powerfully too, judging by the gasp of pain and wince on the windbag's face. Anarietta watches on with a savage smile on her face as the white-haired Witcher whips around the noble to face him and growls.

"She told you to leave, pal."

When the noble throws one last look back at Anarietta, she straightens to her full height and levels a vicious, angry glare in his direction.

"Out."

And out he goes. Perhaps some of her nobility thinks that Anarietta has a legitimate reason for allowing Geralt's presence to supersede all other matters of court. Perhaps not. It matters little, in the end. Everyone is soon out of the throne room, save the Duchess and the White Wolf. As the doors close with a resounding sound to them, Geralt turns to her… or more importantly, turns to the Duchal Throne.

Anarietta stands aside as he moves into position and sits down upon it. Kneeling before him, the crowned beauty bows her head in utter supplication to the Witcher.

"How may I serve you today, sir?"

There's a pause as Geralt considers the question, and then an answer that Anarietta hastens to follow.

"Your mouth."

Shuffling forward, the kneeling woman reaches out and with practiced eases, begins to deftly open up Geralt's armored trousers. She'd been rather bad at this, the first few times, but now it was old hat for the Duchess, and she quickly manages to extract his cock from its confines and place it in her mouth… right where it belongs.

His gloved hand comes down on her crown as Anarietta swallows his member whole, and she chokes a little as he forces her past what she's capable of handling without gagging. Not that she minds. Not one bit. As she sucks and slurps at his cock, Geralt forces her further down his length, and Anarietta in turn lets her hands wander. She's wearing far too much clothing, but that doesn't mean she can't get a tit out of the top of her dress or grind the palm of her hand into her crotch through all those annoying layers.

She's soon moaning and gagging on Geralt's member in equal amounts, eyes watering with involuntary tears as they gaze up at the Witcher's rugged good looks. Geralt almost seems bored, resting his cheek on his other hand, which is curled into a fist, the elbow of which is propped up on the arm of her throne. He looks down at her calmly, not grunting or groaning as Anarietta chokes down his dick. His hand on her crown, which is woven into her hair like always, guides her back and forth almost mechanically by rote, rather than by excitement or enthusiasm.

"Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!"

It's still exciting for her, and Anarietta is nothing if not enthusiastic in both her sucking and her own pleasuring as she chokes down Geralt's member. And yet… and yet…

"Here it comes, bitch."

His warning is delivered casually, in a dry tone, and then he's cumming down her throat a moment later. Anarietta barely has time to even process and enjoy the way he degrades her with his insulting title, before she's choking and doing her best to swallow his seed. Her best, as it so happens, has improved by leaps, and bounds over the last several months of this. She manages to swallow pretty much every last drop, with not a single bit of it exploding out of her nostrils or the sides of her mouth as her pretty little throat gulps and gulps and gulps until the deed is done.

And… it is done. Finished with her, Geralt all but tosses her away from him as he releases his hold on her crown and stands up, easily tucking his cock back into his pants and fixing them up without any trouble on his end. Left kneeling there beside her throne, Anarietta is at a loss for a moment, and then gravely worried. If… if the Witcher is content with just a one and doner, if he's not looking for more… then what if soon, he stops coming around looking for it from her at ALL.

"Are you… do you not wish to partake in my body further, Geralt? Your… your slutty little whorish Duchess is available for the taking if you like."

She hopes that by talking down to herself, debasing herself, she might entice him further, but he just looks back at her for a moment assessingly, before ultimately shaking his head.

"Nah. I have a contract to get done. Just needed to take the edge off quick, and I knew I could count on your cunt of a mouth to do it. See you around."

As he goes to leave again, Anarietta rises to her feet.

"W-Wait!"

He stops and waits, turning to look at her with a raised brow. In response, she blushes… but it seems clear now that she has no choice. This isn't the first time that Geralt's lack of interest in her had shown itself, these past weeks. If she lets this go on much longer, she's worried he'll leave Toussaint altogether and search for new… experiences elsewhere.

"I… I have a surprise for you, White Wolf. I-If you would just follow me?"

He cocks his head to the side, as if considering the sincerity of her words. After a long moment though, he nods and walks back over, ready to let her lead him. Letting out a sigh of relief, Anarietta wastes no time in turning around and walking out of the throne room through a back entrance. These hallways would undeniably be empty, and she walks with something akin to confidence in her step as she leads Geralt to their ultimate destination.

If THIS didn't work to convince the Witcher to stick around, she didn't know what could. All she did know was this… she would do ANYTHING to keep the White Wolf in her life. ANYTHING!

-x-X-x-

The moment that Anarietta opens the door to the secluded bedroom that also doubled as something of a prison cell, the sounds of muffled groans and growls filled the air. She knew Geralt heard it because he paused for a moment before entering behind her. Then, he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing what awaited them within.

There, on the bed, completely stripped naked and trussed up like a lamb to the slaughter, was Sylvia Anna, also known as Syanna, older sister to Anna Henrietta. With her wrists and ankles securely tied to the bed posts and Syanna herself blindfolded and gagged, the beautiful woman, Anarietta's own sister, is splayed out nicely, an offering up to the man that she'd taken to worshipping like a god.

Of course, Syanna wasn't… entirely on board with all of this. She wasn't entirely unwilling either, to be fair. She was just reluctant to engage in debauchery with her little sister. But Anarietta, sensing that Geralt was becoming less and less enamored with her, had needed a trump card. So, starting about two weeks ago, the Duchess had begun to push with Syanna, push and push and push, until she'd managed to guilt her older sister just enough that she let her tie her up.

Of course, Syanna hadn't been like this for the last two weeks. They'd been playing around with rope and other restrictive elements off and on again since that first time. This though, tying Syanna up in the morning and leaving her here while Anarietta went and held court for several hours… this was a first. And it was obvious Syanna was irritated with it, from the way she was growling through her gag and squirming and writhing and tugging against her restraints.

As her elder sister, returned to Anarietta by the very same man she was going to in turn sacrifice Syanna to, struggles mightily, the Duchess walks over to the bed, stripping down as she goes. By the time she climbs on, the Duchess is left in nothing but her corset and her crown, her long legs, ass, and snatch all exposed, along with her arms, shoulders, and an even more generous amount of her cleavage than before.

Climbing up onto the bed beside her dear sister, Anarietta smiles and runs her fingers through Syanna's black locks. Her hair had been short when she was originally returned to her, but since then, it'd grown out a bit more. Anarietta had begged Syanna not to cut it so short again, since it was unbecoming of a noble, and Syanna had acquiesced. Truly, their relationship had never been better.

"As you can see, I've prepared her for you. She didn't know it, but I've been playing with her for two weeks now, in anticipation of this moment, when you could come and claim her. You'll fuck her, and she'll learn to love it, just like I did. I hope… I hope you're pleased with me."

And yet, despite their relationship having never been stronger, Anarietta hasn't even hesitated in using that against her older sister, so that she can offer the other woman up to Geralt on a silver platter. And now that's all coming to fruition, much to Geralt's clearly piqued interest… and Syanna's vehement anger. At hearing Anarietta's words, the dark-haired woman shrieks through the gag, and begins struggling far more violently.

Ignoring that, Anarietta reaches out and grabs Syanna by her tits, groping and squeezing and mushing them together eagerly as she licks her lips and gives Geralt an enticing smile.

"Well, White Wolf? Care to take her for a spin?"

Anarietta doesn't even notice Syanna's struggling abating after that, doesn't even notice her sister calming down after she identifies the man that will be fucking Syanna. She just chalks it up to the training they've been doing for two weeks now taking effect. Also, she's far too focused on watching Geralt strip down to pay Syanna any mind, even if she IS the dessert on offer.

Slowly, the White Wolf strips out of his armor. Much to Anarietta's growing arousal and excitement, Geralt seems completely on board with this, from the way his golden eyes hungrily sweep up and down Syanna's splayed form. He pulls off his armor piece by piece, setting it aside and then moving onto the clothing beneath it, which he also removes, until finally he's wearing nothing at all.

His cock is already half hard by the time it's freed from it's confines, and as he climbs onto the bed, it's growing even harder. Syanna is completely still now, save for the movement that Anarietta is forcing her body to make, namely her chest, which the Duchess is still groping and squeezing and molding with her hands. She's positively kneading her sister's tits at this point, like a purring, self-satisfied cat who's going to get her cream.

When Geralt reaches out and grabs her by her hair, pulling her in over her sister's body for a kiss, Anarietta melts into his embrace, as submissive as ever. Truly, this thing between her and Syanna… it's nothing personal. It was always for Geralt. It was all for Geralt. As his tongue forces its way into her mouth and dominates it, Anarietta moans wantonly, her lashes fluttering and her eyes threatening to roll back in her head.

Her dripping pussy lips are right over her sister's face as she kneels there on either side of Syanna's head, her hands on her sister's tits… but not once does Anarietta consider sitting on her sister's face. Even if she could have likely gotten some pleasure from grinding down on her sister's gagged mouth… this isn't about her pleasure. Nor is it about Syanna's. It's all about Geralt, it always has been.

The Duchess even ceases kneading her sister's breasts beneath her hands as she and the White Wolf make out, though she doesn't stop using Syanna's tits as handholds. Geralt's cock spears into Syanna's cunt, causing the blindfolded beauty to let out a soft groan through her gag. Or maybe it was a moan? Well, if Syanna IS enjoying it, all the better. Anarietta knows she'll love this all by the end of it as much as Anarietta does anyways.

In and out of Syanna's cunt, Geralt saws, even as he kisses Anarietta, dominating her mouth so thoroughly and effectively that it's clear he's more than capable of handling two women at a time. Maybe even three? Brief fantasies of involving Vivienne in the debauchery if Syanna and Anarietta couldn't hold Geralt's attention forever fill the Duchess' mind but are ultimately set aside for the time being so she can properly focus on the task at hand.

With a grunt against her lips and no further warning, Geralt cums inside of Syanna, filling Anarietta's sister with his seed even as he does his level best to stick his tongue down the back of the Duchess throat. She's a little surprised that his first time with Syanna involved none of the degrading, debauched debasement that their first time together had been. Surely the White Wolf had just as much reason to be pissed off at her sister as he did at her… r-right?

Anarietta's fears of Syanna somehow displacing her and gaining a place in Geralt's heart, where Anarietta herself had only managed to secure a place upon the Witcher's dick, are short-lived and summarily taken care of when Geralt disengages from his lip lock with Anarietta and looks down at Syanna with a smug grin on his face.

"Told you that it would be better here then in the dream, didn't I? And given how many times I felt you cum just now…"

Blinking, Anarietta gets up off of her gagged, blindfolded sister at Geralt's direction. The Witcher leans down and removes both from Syanna, causing her to gasp and blink rapidly before looking up at him with a flushed face.

"… I wasn't expecting you to be bigger in the real world, I m-must admit."

Wait, what? Anarietta stares down at her sister and then up at Geralt, but she's not stupid and after a moment, she's put it together. This isn't the first time he and Syanna have fucked, is it? And going off what they were saying, he'd fucked Syanna before she'd ever even got a chance at him. A small surge of jealousy sparks in Anarietta's chest, even as Geralt snorts derisively.

"Still trying to put on that brave face, are we? Still trying to make it out like you aren't the scared little girl we both know you are?"

The White Wolf's words cause Syanna to jut out her chin, her eyes sparkling in defiance.

"You may have tamed my sister, but you'll find that I-!"

SMACK!

In the midst of the opening to what was likely to be an impressive tirade knowing Syanna, Geralt slaps his cock across the high-cheeked, gorgeous woman's face. Anarietta can't help but giggle at the gobsmacked expression her older sister is now wearing, even as Geralt brings his cock back around a bit more likely to slap it up against her other cheek as well. Back and forth he goes, until Syanna finally recovers and tries to turn her face away, out of his cock's range, sputtering.

"Y-You bastard!"

"You're an ornery one, Sylvia Anna… luckily for me, I know your weakness."

Oh? Anarietta is undeniably curious, as the Witcher slowly draws his cock back, leaving her sister glaring up at him furiously, her face now covered in his juices. He just smirks down at her, and then reaches back and begins freeing her ankles. The moment her legs are no longer forced wide by the rope, Syanna begins to kick angrily, trying to catch Geralt across the jaw or chest… though never once aiming for his cock or a debilitating blow that might have actually done something, Anarietta finds herself noting.

It doesn't really matter either way though, because Geralt's hands snap out and grab ahold of her ankles one after the other, stilling them with his enhanced strength and bringing them together before him as he pushes her legs back, back, and back some more. By the time he's done, Syanna's shapely behind, toned from a life as a criminal, but also more than a little bubbly from these last few cushiony months as her sister's 'guest', is slightly off the bed, up in the air.

Transferring his hold on her legs to one arm, Geralt brings his other hand down to deliver a blistering spanking to Syanna's backside.

SMACK!

The squeal that erupts from her older sister's lips surprises Anarietta. Syanna's face flushes hot, and not just the red hot of anger, but the blush of a woman pleasured. The Duchess should know, she's seen that look on her own face after an encounter with Geralt more times than she can count at this point. Instinctively moving into position to place Syanna's head in her lap, Anarietta watches as Geralt continues to spank her sister. Still bound at the wrists to the bed, Syanna isn't going anywhere any time soon as she squeaks and squeals and cries out from the paddling.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"S-Stop! You b-bastard, you… I-I'll gut you for this!"

Her sister WAS ornery, just like Geralt had said. Anarietta giggles again, because she can hear the tremble in Syanna's tone, can hear the moan threatening to break free that her older sister is struggling to hold back. Without a doubt… Syanna is enjoying this.

"You'll lay back and take it, bitch. Saved your life, saved your sister's life. Cleaned up all your fucking messes. At least Anarietta has the good grace to apologize properly. You… you, I can tell, need a lesson in courtesy."

Anarietta very decidedly doesn't point out that there's nothing courteous or proper about anything that's happening on this bed. Syanna, meanwhile, falls silent and bites her lower lip, though she doesn't stop glaring daggers up at Geralt. Not that it keeps him from his goal. Dipping his erection into Syanna's freshly fucked, gushing wet twat for a moment, Geralt rubs back and forth a bit and then pulls back again. And then, right before their eyes, he places the head of his cock at Syanna's back door, at her anus.

"W-Wait! You- A-Ah!"

Syanna's whole tone changes as Geralt penetrates her ass, and Anarietta blushes a little, even as she runs her hands through her sister's hair comfortingly, in stark contrast to the pain that the other woman must now be feeling. And yet, Syanna doesn't scream in agony as Geralt burrows deeper and deeper or anything like that. Rather… she lets out that heartfelt, wanton moan that Anarietta had seen her holding back previously.

O-Oh… was this the weakness that Geralt had mentioned previously? Was her sister this much of a deviant? Not that Anarietta had room to talk when she'd given Geralt her own anal virginity and then some. At least one in three of their encounters had involved anal, possibly even as much as one in two. But for all that Anarietta enjoyed having Geralt's cock inside of her ass, it was quickly becoming obvious that she didn't enjoy it as much as Syanna did, for all that the black-haired beauty was trying to put on a brave face.

"B-Bastard…"

Geralt just snorts derisively and keeps on fucking her ass, her legs bent at the knee and laid over his shoulder as he lifts her entire lower body into the air with each of her thrusts. The more he fucks her anally, the more Syanna can't seem to keep it together. Her breath hitches, she moans, she mewls, and eventually she's squealing as Geralt picks up the pace and starts fucking her deeply enough that his balls are slapping against her rosy red cheeks, already tender from the previous spanking.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over your slutty moans, you silly anal whore."

Syanna curses, but there's less and less heat in it. Her moans really are getting louder too, and she's clawing at the bedding beneath her hands, even as her arms remain splayed apart due to the rope binding her in place. In and out of her ass Geralt goes, seeming intent on punishing her, on putting her in her place… just as he did Anarietta. A-Ah, fuck, this was so fucking hot.

Of course, it was only hot because Geralt was the one who was doing it. The White Wolf had taken her offering and was making use of her in full. That made Anarietta so very, very happy. It excited her beyond belief. She could only hope he would remember that she was the one who gave him this gift when he was finished with her sister. There was no doubt in Anarietta's mind that if he wanted to, he could easily get it up again to reward her once they were done.

As Syanna's voice gets higher and higher pitched, Anarietta marvels at what can only be her sister's O-face. Except, right as it looks like Syanna is going to experience an anal orgasm of all things, Geralt stops and pulls back until his cock is nearly out of her anus.

"Ah! Ah! Ah… ah?"

Looking down the length of her body at him, Syanna scowls mightily.

"W-Why did you stop?"

And in return, Anarietta's White Wolf, the Witcher who'd so readily captured the slutty Duchess' heart, raises a simple eyebrow.

"I don't remember giving you permission to cum, slut. I gave you a ton of freebies while I was buried in your twat, but if you want another orgasm, you're going to have to beg."

Oh, fuck yes. Watching Geralt talk down to Syanna like that, listening to his dark, deep, gravelly voice outline what her sister would have to do in order to find sweet, sweet release at the end of his cock… Anarietta has never been more turned on in her entire life. Syanna, meanwhile, sputters and hisses, like a particularly pissed off cat.

Geralt just smirks down at her though, unperturbed, and after a few moments begins fucking her ass again, clearly having deemed her cooled off enough to not cum immediately upon him doing so. And then, when Syanna very nearly reaches that point of no return again, Geralt stops once more, not allowing her it.

This happens over and over, until finally…

"P-Please… please let me cum."

Geralt smirks down at her easily, the smirk of a man well used to breaking women upon his cock and training them to love his big, fat dick. Anarietta, meanwhile, watches on with bated breath, getting off to every last second of the interaction.

"That's not how you ask, and I think you know it."

Syanna flushes, turns her head away, and for a second Anarietta thinks she's going to be obstinate for a little while longer. But then…

"Please fuck my ass until I cum! Please don't stop plowing my horny, slutty, needy ass, Master!"

It feels so out of left field for Anarietta, but it's also so clearly heartfelt. Geralt, meanwhile, just grins smugly, like it's exactly what he was expecting. And then, he gives Syanna what she wants, fucking her ass harder and faster than ever before. That last sentence seems to have opened the floodgates, because Syanna won't shut up now. She's begging for it, pleading with the White Wolf to fuck her ass… however, unlike Anarietta, she doesn't refer to Geralt by name or title. She calls him 'Master', 'Sir', and pleads with him to treat her like the trash she is.

"Yes, Master! Fuck me! Fuck my ass harder! Punish me! I'm scum, I'm worse than scum! Please, please give it to me! Make me make up for my sins! Punish me for my transgressiiiiiiiii!!!"

She never gets the word transgressions fully out, mostly because she's too busy cumming her brains out, her eyes rolling back in her head and her tongue lolling out of her mouth right there in Anarietta's lap as she orgasms quite explosively. Her creampied pussy explodes all over Syanna's front in a truly humiliating fashion thanks to the way Geralt has her lower half raised into the air and her body at a slight incline down towards her face, at the moment.

But even as Syanna gets her pussy juices and Geralt's cum all over Anarietta's lap and her own face, the Duchess doesn't mind all that much. She's too busy watching her sister's ass contract and tighten rhythmically around Geralt's cock, undeniably jealous of the way Syanna is squealing like a stuck pig and climaxing so damn heartily from the anal plundering.

Meanwhile, Geralt grunts… and then promptly pulls out of Syanna's ass and covers both sisters in his load, coating Syanna's naked body and much of Anarietta's face, chest, and corset as well. His heavy, thick, viscous load of white hot seed doesn't let up for a solid minute, and by the time he's finished depositing all that delicious cum onto them, both Anarietta and Syanna are covered from head to toe, or so it feels.

… Anarietta has never been more turned on then in this moment, and she lets her instincts drive her. Instincts that have been honed and conditioned to long for only a handful of things, at this point.

One, Geralt himself. His presence overall was like a balm on the spirit, a reminder to never get too uppity, that she was worthless as a Duchess in his eyes, and only useful as a woman for him to fuck, at the end of the day. Two, Geralt's words. She loved it when he degraded and debased her with his words. In fact, she fantasized about him humiliating her in front of her court regularly. Even if it would likely mean the end of her time as Duchess, since she wouldn't actually punish him for it, she still secretly, privately longed for it to happen, in her own self-destructive way.

Three, Geralt's cock. His big, fat cock, that she loved to slobber all over when it wasn't in her twat or her ass. He could fuck her and use her however he liked, and he'd been regularly doing so for months now. That also extended to her sister now, but Anarietta wasn't too worried about Syanna stealing him or anything. She'd been more worried he was growing bored of Toussaint and her before now. With Syanna joining the fun, that should keep Geralt engaged for a little while longer.

And four, Geralt's seed. That was what her instincts drove her to now. That delicious semen, just as addicting as the rest of him. His essence, which even now was painting her naked, bound sister from head to toe. How can Anarietta not lean down and kiss her sister? How can she not lick Syanna's face clean of Geralt's cum?

Once again, it really has nothing to do with Syanna herself. Anarietta loves her sister, but not in this way. Syanna is nothing more than the plate or the bowl or utensil that delivers that oh so delicious seed to Anarietta's mouth. And if her sister eventually recovers enough that they end up swapping cum between then in a deep, tongue-filled kiss… well, Anarietta simply must get as much of that delicious jizz down her throat and into her gullet as possible.

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An interesting turn of events, to be sure. Anarietta was right to be worried, because he really had been growing tired of her and Toussaint. Work was also getting sparser and sparser, the longer he stayed in one place. It was why he'd had so many opportunities to take the slut of a Duchess up on her offer, these past few months. This contract today was supposed to be his first in quite a while, and he'd blown it off to fuck Anarietta and her sister.

He'd been a little surprised to see the depths to which Anarietta's depravity would sink. But at the same time, not at all put off by it. Besides, where Anarietta had missed it, Geralt had not failed to notice the way Syanna went still, once she found out just what man her baby sister had tied her up and presented her to. She wanted this, just as much as Anarietta did. She just needed to be shown she could allow herself to break… and she had.

Now, Geralt sits, back against the wall at the head of the bed and reaches out over the bodies of his two horny little royal sluts. On one side of him kneels the Duchess of Toussaint herself, Anna Henrietta bent over his cock and licking and slurping up and down the left half. On the other side of him, kneeling in parallel and willingly working her tongue along the right half of his shaft, is her sister, Sylvia Anna.

They've come a long way from the elder wanting to kill the younger. The two are working together quite diligently now. Anarietta holds Geralt's cock at the base, her crown still in her hair and the only thing left adorning her body. Syanna, meanwhile, has her wrists now tied behind her back, and a collar around her throat. Apparently, Anarietta's training of her sister was intended to go much further, but the Duchess had been rushed by Geralt's growing apathy.

It seemed fitting all the same, given the new dynamic between them. When Geralt and Syanna had fucked in that pocket dimension, it had been different. For one, he hadn't felt completely on his game. It hadn't seemed it at the time, but now he could say without a doubt that Syanna was right… he WAS bigger in the real world, oddly enough.

She'd been crasser and more guarded then too. The sex had been as much a battle as it had been a bout of intercourse. Syanna was intent on getting the upper-hand, while Geralt just saw an opportunity to get his dick wet and took it. He hadn't had the time then to put the uppity little tart in her place, and later it hadn't really seemed like an option anymore once he'd gotten hers and Anarietta's happily ever after for the both of them.

Anarietta had been satisfying enough as a fuck toy in the meantime. Syanna, on the other hand, had turned out to be in need of full domination and control, if the way she'd taken to calling him Master was any indication. Perhaps he'd even take her with him, whenever he finally DID decide to leave Toussaint.

For now, he was curious enough to see what the future held that he'd stick around a while longer. As Anarietta and Syanna both worship his cock and balls in their own way, their tongues and lips trailing up and down his shaft from the tip to his nut sack again and again, Geralt has his arms stretched out and his hands on each of their asses.

Groping and squeezing their shapely behinds and admiring both the similarities to them and the slight differences, Geralt of Rivia smiles slightly and then lifts his hands off of their behinds for a second, only to deliver dual spankings to their gorgeous upturned asses at the same time.

SMACK! SMACK!

Both Anarietta and Syanna let out cute little squeals at the impacts, their moans causing hot air to brush against his cock from both sides. So, Geralt does it again. And again. And again. He spanks their heart-shaped bubble butts raw, and once he's gotten tired of that, he sticks two fingers in each of their asses and pistons in and out of their back doors rapidly, loosening them both up.

The anal muscles of both women tighten and clench and squeeze around his digits, as if they can try to push him out… or perhaps even more lewdly, because they're trying to pull him deeper in. But Geralt is in control here, and even in this case, their asses are nothing more than playthings for him to amuse himself with while they suck him off.

Their technique regarding worshipping his cock and balls gets rougher and less evenhanded by the second but watching them break down while giving him a dual blowjob is it's own reward. Reminds him of some other fantastic threesomes he's been involved in in his life, in fact. In the end, with a loud groan, Geralt tosses his head back and cums.

With little warning, neither Anarietta nor Syanna get their mouths quite over his cock in time to swallow his whole load. They both try though, and bump noses while also suctioning their lips together, half-kissing, half-sucking, his load splattering across their faces for a brief moment before being split between their slutty, hungry mouths. The two sisters suck down his seed as it leaves his churning balls and travels the length of his throbbing cock.

And then, in a repeat of a move he'd watched her pull earlier, Anarietta grabs her helpless, bound sister by the hair and forces Syanna into a kiss, doing her level best to steal some of his seed right from Syanna's mouth. Of course, the collared bitch is only submissive to him, and she fights back as best as she can, leading to something akin to cum swapping, the two of them entangling their tongues together, not for one another's pleasure, but because they're dueling over his seed.

Grinning, Geralt just leans back and rests as he watches them go at it, his fingers still working their way in and out of the asses of both women. The day was still young… and he fully intended to take advantage of that fact. That contract he'd taken could probably wait at least one more day… or perhaps he just wouldn't do it at all. The Duchy's Knights could always handle it. Only seemed fair, since he'd be handling their slut of a Duchess in turn…

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