The woman, her well-filled silk dress cut low to the navel and high on each thigh, continues to glare at you from behind the church altar, sculpted features still twisted by irritation at your unexpected intrusion. Strands of her midnight hair turn white as she starts chanting, balefire enveloping her outstretched hand, and everything you've read in fantasy novels becomes terrifyingly real. Her glare had initially halted you between pentagrams carved into ceiling and floor when you'd entered the church and they now glow as you are frozen in place. The chanting of the sorceress, for that's what she must be, changes to become guttural, primal and harsh on the ear, and you look down as she does to see an inky blackness slowly growing beneath your feet.
A pair of slender tentacles gradually emerge, slimy and cold through your jeans as they tightly wrap around your legs, and your gaze hurriedly roams the long chamber for a way out, always returning to meet the sorceress' cruel eyes. There's a mocking glint there, she nods towards the ceiling, and you scream as more thin tentacles rush down, some encircling your arms and others burrowing beneath your blouse.
Your top explodes into fragments as tentacles pull it apart at the seams, exposing your pert breasts, and you shake your head as they continue down past the waist of your jeans. The tentacles holding your limbs move, forcing you into a spread-eagled pose as your jeans are destroyed and leave you in just panties.
Panting slightly from casting her magics the sorceress approaches, slipping her dress off to reveal a mature body. She moans upon stepping into the pentagram, a fat-headed tentacle questingly encircling her lower left leg, and pauses in front of you. The tentacles have you in such a grip that even your trembling is unnoticeable but the sorceress feels it when she places a palm against your cheek, a smile on her face.
The tentacle that had felt the sorceress withdraws from her, waving lazily in the space between you, and she points it at you as she rips away your panties, finally rendering you nude. A moan splits the silence as it slides into you, the sound cut off when another tentacle wraps around your throat and starts squeezing. Now your body moves, rocking as you're fucked by a thickening tentacle that goes deeper with each thrust. Sensations magnify in response to the growing lack of air in your lungs, nipples painfully erect and pussy dripping. The sorceress smiles knowingly as you experience an orgasm and then you panic as your neck is crushed, eyes widening. The last thing you see is the sorceress turning away, the last thing you hear are window shutters being closed, and the last thing you feel is a tentacle in your pussy ejaculating…
All you wanted was an escape from the storm.
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