Her Favorite Spice [NSFW, femdom, GID, mummification, encasement, hypnosis]

Discussion in 'The Big Bookshelf (Library)' started by DErdick, Jul 23, 2018.

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    Morgan led her prey up the stairs to the beach house. But the young man stopped on the small stone patio, looking around nervously. She mused that his apprehension had nothing to do with the remoteness of the private beach. It never occurred to him that the lonely pub she had been sitting in had few witnesses who could remember their rendezvous, even if she'd left them able to do so. He also had no way of knowing that after she had paid the bill in cash, the bartender wouldn't remember either of them when the police asked later. No his hesitation was the normal reluctance of an excited virgin that could not believe his luck. They never do, nor do they understand what they could have done when they discover just what the nature of that luck is.

    Fiction makes ritual magic look like a simple procedure. Grab a virgin, tie him to a slab, speak a pseudo-Latin chant out of a book bound in human skin, then plunge the dagger and reap the rewards. But imagine if a chef cooked a meal just by throwing any ingredients in a pot while following the exact words of a recipe in a book. The result might be palatable, but it will never be a five star meal. Magic is much the same way. The quality of the ingredients, care placed in how they are prepared and when and how they are added, and making sure of the proper temperature and attention all matter. And any recipe can be elevated by adding the right spices.

    Mark, for she remembered all of their names, was a wonderful young man. It would have been so easy for her to find some scummy pick up artist at a bar, or a horny pill popper at a rave, or a desperate hook up at a frat party. But she intentionally sought out men who were not just looking for something quick and easy. Turns out in addition to gay or married, the good ones occasionally get taken by a sorceress, she mused to herself. Similarly she could have walked into the pub as Aphrodite herself, completely irresistible to anyone that met her gaze. Instead she crafted a lovely appearance with wavy black hair, pale skin, and a well curved figure - head turning but not out of place in a small pub. Similarly, she could have charmed Mark, drugged him, or just fed him enough liquor to remove his inhibitions. But when Mark followed Morgan out of the pub, it was a sober if somewhat hormonal decision.

    Morgan had similarly spent their drink and the car ride from the pub getting to know Mark as well as she could. Not only did she wish to make sure he was an appropriate sacrifice, but she truly wanted to know him. She paid close attention, hanging on his every word as he told her about his studies, the teachers he liked and hated, and how much fun he was having in Ultimate Frisbee Club. She had brought out every detail from him about his favorite beaches and hiking spots, the rocks he would sit on as he gazed out into the Pacific, the waterfall he would visit every chance he got. She had even dug out a story of his favorite vacation with his family, laughing with him and shedding tears as he spent nearly an hour telling it. The more she knew the sacrifice, the stronger the magic she could make with him.

    Mark continued to stare nervously at the patio stones, as he mulled over stuttering out one of the many things virgins like him say when they get to this step. The "I don't want to go too fast," or "I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing," or "I don't really do things like this," is always there below the surface with the right prey.

    "We don't have to do this if you don't want to," Morgan purred, part of her tone sympathetic, part daring. She had given him two other similar outs when she first invited him at the pub and when she had offered him the seat in her car. The three chances were another spice in her recipe. Though not necessary to the spell, offering him the three chances to turn back gave a certain flavor to the magic that she found particularly empowering. The chances were genuine too. If he said no here, she would happily drive him back to his house where she would leave him safe and sound never to be threatened by her again.

    Mark finally drew his gaze from his feet and looked up to her on the deck above him. She smiled down at him, a hint of menace growing in her gaze as he responded. "No, no. I got this. Just a little nervous is all." He took the first wooden stair towards her, still unaware he was crossing the threshold to his doom. It had been over a century since the last man had turned back.

    Morgan waited while Mark walked up the stairs. The way he kept her eyes on her made her feel like an angel he was ascending to as he climbed. She looked down at him with a broad, humor filled smile. Perhaps it would have been fairer if she had designed the house so that the young man had to walk down stairs towards her. It certainly would be more appropriate.

    He joined her by the front door and she extended a hand to him. Morgan opened the door, the maximum security locks already unlocked for them. She nonchalantly crossed the threshold then turned to urge Mark to do the same. “Follow me, and watch your step. This house can be treacherous in the dark,” she purred with a devilish smile. As she walked towards the bar at the far end of the room, she let Marks hand trail from hers, allowing her fingertips to brush along his palm. Still appearing to casually move towards the one area of the room shedding dim light, Morgan walked her planned path, already noting that her suitor was not properly following her.

    Morgan didn't bother to watch Mark as the trap sprung. She just prowled with her nearly bare back to him confident in what would happen next, despite giving him everything he would need to delay the inevitable. Behind her, Mark found his gaze pulled between her shapely figure and the ornate room. Even in the dim light, the sitting area was filled with things to catch the eye. Beautiful Greco-Roman columns symmetrically divided the room. Fine works of art from statues, to paintings, to even jewelry and ancient works were displayed all throughout the room. A massive, curved screen TV sat before the most comfortable looking couch he had ever seen. Books of erotic photography and art graced an ornate coffee table, and plenty more books lined rows of shelves along the far wall.

    Slowly, inevitably, Mark was drawn from the safe path. His curiosity finally piqued enough to take his eyes off Morgan entirely and locked them on a feat of engineering on a nearby pedestal. The Antikythera replica, she thought to herself, applauding his taste. He did his best to explore without being rude and divided his attention between his apparent host as she busied herself with beverages. So distracted, he didn't pay it any mind as his shoes began to stick gently to the floor. He didn't care about the strange stretching sound that played under his tread as he reached the pedestal. Mark spared one last look at Morgan, relieved to see that she seemed to be watching him with an approving smile. Indeed her eyes were truly alive as he reached out to touch the ornate machine.

    Morgan played Mark's potential thoughts in her head. She could have just taken a moment to read them, but that might give up the game if he noticed. And there was something about the guessing that was so delightful. The young man carefully steadied the replica with his left hand while he explored the intricate detail with his right. What a strange material, he must be thinking. Is that a resin of some kind? Rubber? Foam? It has a slightly tacky feel to it. No, that's not quite it. It feels like it's actually gripping back.

    As if on queue, Mark's eyes went wide. He pulled his hand back from the replica, only to have the surface draw back with him. Here Morgan would have to guess what her prey was experiencing. The breaking of an illusion is a very personal thing, and is tied heavily into one's perception of reality. For some, it's like waking up from a dream. They blink, and then the world is revealed for what it has always been. For others, the enchantment actually shatters before their eyes, as if their mind just can't handle the breach between what they had been seeing and what is actually true. Those with magical gifts often see the illusion in almost double vision, the lie and the reality overlapping each other.

    Watching Mark's reaction, Morgan imagined that he was seeing reality horrifyingly distort around him. His eyes went wide in befuddlement as what should had been a hard surface bent and softened as it adhered to his hand. The intricate detail stretched and deformed, and he actually tried to reach with his other hand to try and pull the melting vision away. But this only resulted in the sticky surface pulling with his left hand creating a melting knot of what had once been an ornate replica.

    Mark spun about in disbelief, accidentally bumping into the pillar, its form adhering to him too and shaping around him. Morgan could tell from his eyes that he now saw the house for what it had always been.

    The room was barren of any furniture save for the bar where Morgan stood. The drinks she had retrieved were real, no need to waste a good illusion on something so easily attainable. The dim light that had lit the room was not from a light at the bar, but from a pillar of bluish light burning through the floor to crash against the ceiling. And what had been pillars, pedestals, book shelves, even the couch, coffee table, and TV, were instead vague shapes woven from a silvery cord maybe an eighth of an inch thick. The light played off it in an eerie shimmering scene, and many of the shapes had a faint layer of dust adhering to them at places. From each of the former decorations the cord spread out in ever finer strands and layers to cover almost the entire floor, save a meandering path that lead to the bar.

    The young man looked down to see that his hands had formed a fine netting between them, wrapping tightly around his palms and entangling his fingers. Similarly his leg was now covered in a layer of silvery cord, and his feet had drawn a circle of the stuff around them, with a few cords even twisted around his ankles. Morgan began to stalk towards her prey, suppressing a laugh as Mark lost his balance and fell fully onto the mock pedestal, his head cushioned from the floor by a sheet of the silver cord that had once been the coffee table.

    “Yeah, I know,” Morgan smirked, “the webbed parlor is a little cliché, but there is power in classic imagery.”

    “What,” Mark barely stammered out the word, still struck by disbelief, “what are you?”

    “Well, I'm not actually a spider if that's what you're worried about. The silk just has so many uses, though. It's such a powerful and versatile material. It can be formed in many different structures, woven into wonderful fabric, lift great weights, even stop bullets,” she watched and this time let her amusement display as a menacing laugh rolling from her lips. Mark struggled to desperately free himself from all the adhesive strands that had adhered to his body, only to just tangle them around him more and add more cords to his bindings.

    “What is that? That light?” Mark tried to put distance between them to know avail.

    Morgan stopped a moment, slightly stunned by the astute question. She turned towards the fiery pillar. “That is a nexus. A point where lines of natural energy meet. It is possible to tap into that energy,” she turned to Mark with a menacing smile, “providing you have a suitable sacrifice.” Those words reinvigorated his struggles. Morgan could not help but let out another, even more cliché laugh. She had chosen a truly excellent sacrifice.

    As amusing as the sight was, it is not in good taste to play with ones food. Morgan waved a hand as she continued to approach and motes of multicolored light began dancing above Mark's head. The young man stared in surprise producing the exact effect Morgan desired. The motes shed only warm light, but the circling colors drew in his gaze and held it. Before he knew it, Mark's body began to relax, his breathing steadied. Morgan's face suddenly appeared above him, her eyes shimmering with the same colors that currently held his gaze. As it had so many times that night, Mark locked gaze with her beautiful eyes. And as the colors danced from within them, Morgan new he could never break the gaze again.

    Morgan allowed just a faint apologetic expression to cross her lips. But the taste of her victory quickly curved them into a wicked grin. Lost in her mesmerizing gaze, Mark did not notice either smile. “Sleep now,” she drew his eyelids closed with her fingertips. The young man fell into darkness.

    Years of experience allowed Morgan to savor her work now that Mark's fate was sealed. She remembered how the first few times she had hurried through her work. As a younger sorceress she had been afraid that the something might go wrong. Maybe her enchantment wouldn't be strong enough. Maybe she would take to long and the victim would wake up. Maybe there was some unwritten magical law that required the ritual be completed in a timely fashion. Like an amateur cook checking her protein too much, Morgan had nearly ruined many rituals in that early haste.

    But now she knew that savoring the ritual was not only more beneficial, but far more enjoyable. Gently, she brought Mark onto the floor. The spider silk held no bond on her as she worked, separating the young man's hands with a finger as if it were mere cobwebs. Once Morgan had placed Mark's body in a more restful pose she stood back as if to admire her work. Calling up her power with flowing gestures and quiet chanting she embraced Mark with her magic. Carefully, as if cradling a babe, she lifted him into the air moved him across the room with simple motions of her hands. She brought him to a web covered pillar before the nexus. Standing him upright she pressed his body against the silk allowing it to hold him there.

    Pulling her magic back from her prey, Morgan returned it to her hands. Then like playing cat's cradle with the air, she cast her power out again weaving it around Mark. Slowly, meticulously, new strands of silk shot to the pillar and began binding him there. Manipulating the silk with expert precision, Morgan spun a cocoon around the man. She did not stop until only his mouth and eyes were left exposed to the light of the nexus. But she also made sure to keep access to one part of him still covered by his clothing.

    Once she was satisfied by her work, she again stalked over to Mark. Morgan brought her hand up to his face, caressing him like the lover she had pretended to be. With her off hand she held him by his shoulder while continuing to cherish him with her power hand. She brought herself in close, brushing his lips gently with hers before trailing them towards his right ear. “Wake now,” she barely whispered, though her power carried it echoing through his mind.

    Mark's eyes shot open and he gasped as his expression showed he immediately remembered his unfortunate circumstances. Morgan made sure her eyes were there to great him. He spit a harsh curse at her and she answered with mock expression of hurt. Surprisingly quickly, his rational side returned though, “what are you going to do to me?”

    “As I said,” she brought her viciousness back to her smile, “using you as a sacrifice, I will channel the power of the nexus. You will become a battery for my magic, and from anywhere in the world I will be able to tap into that power and use it as I desire.”

    This next reaction was also always something she enjoyed. It didn't really add anything to the ritual, save making it more pleasing. Where would the young virgin's mind go now. Would he show defiance? Would he deny it? Would he beg? Would he pine over his misfortune?

    “Please,” Mark began, “I don't understand. Why would you do something like this? Why would you choose me? What did I do? I've never even seen you before tonight! I've never done anything to you! I've never hurt anyone!”

    Ah! A plea of innocence, she let a genuine laugh spill from her lips. Her glee stopped his words in their tracks. “But, Mark! That is exactly why you are perfect. You are innocent. Oh trust me, I believe you when you say you've never hurt anyone. Well, save for maybe as a child when your words and deeds were clumsier and not your responsibility. But it is that very innocence that makes you perfect.”

    “So because I'm a good person, you're going to kill me?”

    Morgan laughed again. This was one of her favorite parts. “Oh, you silly boy! Did you think that was what I meant by sacrifice? Didn't you hear me when I said you were going to become a battery? That can't happen if you're dead. No, my dear Mark. Sacrifice merely means to give something of yourself. Your life is just one thing that can be used. But I'm not going to kill you. I'm not even going to hurt you. You are completely safe and will experience no death here.” She smiled almost certain her full meaning was lost on him. “No, there is something much different that I want from you.”

    “Then,” Mark barely breathed, having obvious difficulty getting the words out, “then what are you going to do?”

    “Why, exactly what we intended to do from the start. You and I are going to have a little fun. Then, when you are ready, I will finish the ritual and you will become my conduit.”

    “What!” Morgan could barely contain her mirth. No matter how many times she did this, the way men reacted to the news was always hysterical. “So we're just going to have sex anyway? Then why all of this? Why,” Morgan's laughter cut him off, and she could see some anger replacing the fear in his words.

    She shushed him with a single finger against his lips, then pouted in mock apology. “Sorry, Mark but that isn't quite what I meant. I said we were going to have some fun. But I need your virginity unfortunately. So I'm afraid third base will have to do. As for the rest, well,” Morgan smiled and mocked thinking it over, like a friend trying to figure out how to explain bad, but comical news. “Let's just say not even the most experienced man would be able to sit still. And still is how I will need you.”

    “Now then,” Morgan gave him an expression that froze Mark in his place. She allowed all her carnal thoughts and desires to fill her eyes and smile, and in her very gaze she placed unspoken promises of pleasure. The poor guy couldn't help but gasp as she locked eyes with him. Despite the fear and anger he had shown, Morgan could feel his arousal grow beneath her. And as she slowly slid her body down his, keeping their eyes locked until the silk around his head kept him from following, she knew he was becoming even more a victim of his needs. By the time she was kneeling before him, placing her hands against that last bare spot in the cocoon, she could feel his hardness waiting to be exposed and throbbing powerfully. She knew that at this point he might easily just explode right there. But she had no shortage of practice getting what she wanted before any accidents happened.

    Slowly, carefully, and with some very well placed caresses, Morgan drew Mark's cock from his pants. He was already exactly where she needed him for the next part. Sometimes she suspected that virgins weren't actually necessary for the ritual but just so much easier to work with. Still, you can't make beef wellington without beef, so this was one of those traditions she never really considered experimenting with.

    Morgan gathered her power into her throat then let it form in her mouth as she chanted. When she was done she felt it gather as a vibrant energy tickling its way through her lips. She allowed it to gather between them, and then released it in a firm kiss against the tip of Mark's cock. This was one part she had to admit made her curious, as Mark's surprised and pleasure filled moan pored down upon her. As she did nearly ever time, she told herself she must look into some transmutations one of these days.

    For now, she stared happily at her work. Mark's cock stood rock hard, pointing nearly all the way back towards his bound stomach. It throbbed and twitched visibly, clear precum flowing freely down the shaft. Here it would stay until she released the spell, which she had no intention of ever doing. And the slow torment of that naked, begging cock was actually more than enough to work the ritual. Some variations called for it to end here, but there was still more power to be found. Plus she found this next part incredibly fun.

    “Enjoying yourself so far?” Morgan smiled up at the young man who had no means to see her face. She imagined how the pleasure and arousal must clash with all the previous emotions and thoughts that had gathered, and could only curl her smile more as Mark answered her only with a desperate sigh.

    “I'll take that as yes. But there is oh so much more,” she filled her voice with every sinful intention she could, always determined to see how far she could push her victim's desire. Once again she breathed power into her lips, forming it carefully for the next part. But here she didn't stop with a kiss, eagerly plunging Mark's cock as deep as she could take it into her throat. Then she sucked in tight and slowly drew it from her lips, playing the soft underside of the shaft with her tongue the entire way.

    A scream drew itself from Mark's mouth, being absorbed by the strands of silk throughout the room and preventing it from ever having a chance to be heard outside. That desperate sound sent a thrill through Morgan's body, but she had plenty of practice and stayed focused on shaping the magic just right. With a pop, the cock left her mouth. She imagined for a moment all the chaotic thoughts, feelings, and sensations that must be going through Mark's mind. He screamed again as the act repeated itself. With all the questions that must still linger, he will be helpless to not focus on new ones. The scream began to repeat itself as the slow deliberate stimulation continued. Why does it feel so good? Another desperate, pleasure filled cry. Why haven't I cum yet? The cry became more urgent and needy. If only I could get free! The voice became more lost in pleasure and lust. But I can't do anything to stop it.

    But her favorite was the most obvious one. No matter how many time she did this, the question was always in her preys eyes when she looked at them now. She smiled a devious smile and gazed into Mark's eyes as she waited for the realization to come to him.

    One pause in the stimulation he locked eyes with her. “How,” he was immediately cut off as the next repetition pulled yet another needy cry from him.

    “How am I doing this?” she purred sultrily against his skin as she gripped into his hair and pressed their faces together. “Oh if only you could see it, Mark. It's actually quite beautiful,” She looked down at his throbbing, aching member, watching the energies play across it like a living thing. In her sight the magic was a vibrant violet of both water and fire that alternately washed and burned its way along his poor cock.

    “That spell will continue to repeat the exact stimulation I gave you unless I stop it. No nerves dulling, no skin desensitizing or chafing, and not chance of tuning it out or getting used to it. Even if you fall asleep, which you won't, it will follow you into your slumber. But the more aroused you are, the more intense it will become. And your arousal will keep growing until you cum. And I made sure that wouldn't happen with the first spell.” She smiled wickedly, enjoying the growing expression on Mark's face, so filled with so many wonderful emotions.

    “And it gets better,” she grinned and fell down his body again. Once again she gathered her magic. She watched the previous slow movement of her energy, waiting for it to return back to its source. Then she immediately brought Mark's cock back into her mouth, sucking it against her tongue. She rolled her tongue around what was there as she brought her power hand up to stroke the shaft. She set her rhythm to complete a full stroke as the initial path hit the base of his cock, then pumped a quick series as it climbed its way back up. As the magical wave came back into her mouth she let his dick escape, and watched and listened satisfied as the waves of energy played there and Mark's voice responded.

    She didn't stop there. She added a few more of her favorite patterns. Some quick hard sucks. Some full long licks against the tip. Some careful tongue traces along the top of the shaft. With each one she was rewarded with more desperate and pleasure filled moans. With each one she watched the subtle movements of muscle against the cocoon grow more intense. But her favorite part was when she would take just a moment after creating a pattern to come up and get his gaze again, so she could taunt him and watch him beg before going down to add the next.

    Still, there was a limit to this. Each pattern didn't take much magic to maintain, but that was still that much less magic she would be gaining from the final ritual. And there was a much more intensive spell yet to come. From experience and preference, she always did seven patterns. She had yet to find a man who could withstand that for very long, while usually still leaving enough rational thought that she could execute her favorite part yet.

    Morgan stood before Mark. He was quivering continuously, his breath ragged and moans harsh and sharp. His eyes flickered between complete animal lust and those desperate thoughts still trying to fight. Morgan allowed herself to feel those emotions she kept locked away in her constant quest for more power, allowing a genuine apologetic expression to fill her face.

    “We're almost done now, Mark. In a moment, I will complete the ritual and you'll become the conduit. I'll channel a part of the nexus's energy into you to keep you revitalized so that your body and mind will stay intact. You will never age or tire, never hunger or thirst, never grow sick and never die. You will remain trapped in your ever growing lust, the power of your desire both keeping your mind clear to channel the energy and also focusing it so I can draw as much as possible. Then I'll leave you, and here you will remain until I decide to set you free.”

    She watched as Mark's eyes focused on her, and this last moment of human connection. She watched him desperately try to plead, even with all conscious control of his voice lost. She gave him that connection for just a moment before she made the final preparation.

    It had taken her quite some time to discover this small modification to the ritual. It was one that she slowly came to form as she practiced this act time and time again. She enjoyed every part of this to her very core, but there was something about this part that really satisfied her. When it finally occurred to her to add this particular spin on the recipe, she was honestly surprised it had taken her so long.

    As Mark continued to cling to the sympathy in her eyes, she called her power there. As before, warm and vibrant colors danced behind her gaze. Mark's mind, so besieged already by arousal and pleasure was a simple thing for her to penetrate. Gradually, Mark's breathing began to slow, his face and muscle grew more still, and his eyes grew lazy. She stalked toward him, and carefully lowered his eyelids, then embraced him and whispered tenderly to him.

    “Listen to me Mark. This will be a difficult time for you. It will be both a wonderful heaven of increasing pleasure and a terrible hell of ever growing desperation. But I want you to listen carefully. Listen carefully to me, Mark, and understand what I tell you now and never forget it. I've hidden a weakness in the cocoon. If you're careful, and patient, there is a way for you to escape. You just have to try your best to focus so you can find it. It will be impossible for you to find that focus, but you still need to try. Understand that if you can just focus, which again you will find yourself unable to do, you can escape. You have to keep trying to escape. No matter how hard it seems, not matter how impossible it is, you must try to escape. You know the weakness is there. You just have to find it. You must never give up.

    “But even if you never escape, I want you to remember this. One day, I will return. I want you to always remember that, Mark. I am going to return to you. On that fateful day, the day I return, I will free you. I am going to free you Mark. Understand I will one day free you. And on that day, I am going to free you, and you will receive all the pleasure you were denied. And it will be wonderful. One day, I will return, and I will free you, and I will give you pleasure, and it will be wonderful.

    “Understand it Mark. Understand it fully and completely. Understand it with every thought you have. Understand it with every fiber of your being. Understand it and never forget it. You can escape, if you can find the right focus. You must keep trying to escape. And one day I will return and free you. I will return, and I will free you, and give you pleasure, and it will be wonderful. Understand this and never forget it.”

    She continued a moment more, reinforcing the message until she had no doubt that it would always be there in the back of his mind. Then she called back the ghost of her human empathy, and locked it back inside her. With a wicked smile, she gently released her embrace, and backed away. She called her power to her hands again, and wove them until the cocoon was complete this time. When she was satisfied that Mark was completely helpless and left in muffled, silent, darkness, she finally allowed her control to slip.

    Morgan gripped herself as the lust and pleasure built up from all her previous acts, culminating in that last cruel manipulation, filled her. She let out her own moan and let her desires take her, clearing her mind for the ritual. As her arousal reached its peak, she stepped back into the nexus and allowed the energy to course through her. It wasn't long before the lust and power brought her to climax, and she used this as a catalyst to begin.

    With a combination of rehearsed actions and skilled improvisation, with both careful and meticulous thoughts and wild abandoned, Morgan wove the final spells. She carefully separated just enough of the right energies for a stable life line, then she wove out the energies that she could feed through Mark. An hour of ecstasy later, she had the nexus formed the way she wanted it, and she pored its energies into her victim. Mark had slowly stirred back into his agonizing pleasures, and his mind had finally given in to the war between sensation and need. Morgan let the energy flow into him, acting as a guide for the flow so that it found what it was seeking but in the way she wanted it to.

    After so much careful planning, preparation, engagement, and buildup, it all came down to one moment shared between two people lost in pleasure: one sacrificing their needs while the other was fulfilled. Past a certain point, Morgan could only let what would happen, happen. She threw herself into the bliss the energy gave her and let her control go.

    When it was over she quickly gathered herself. She could see the cocoon filling with violent energy. She only needed to properly tap it. She called back to the energy and the traces of herself she had left in its flow. She called through the energy she had left lingering on Mark and in his cocoon. The cocoon began to emit violet light that flickered and pulsed before slowly stilling until it emitted a beautiful steady glow throughout the silver threads.

    Morgan allowed herself a moment to relax. She was exhausted physically, mentally, magically, and sexually. She opened her eyes and looked at her work through the heady afterglow that continued to linger around her.

    The conduit stood before her more brilliant and radiant than she had ever successfully made before. Within, she could here Mark's muffled cries and see the slight variance in the glow caused by his struggles. Despite her fatigue, she felt her arousal start to grow again. She breathed deep and reached into the magic around her. Reinvigorating energy filled her and she let out a satisfied sigh.

    Back in true form, Morgan took a moment to clean up. She grabbed the liquor from behind the counter, and checked around to make sure there were no other unnecessary objects in the chamber. She carefully walked back out to the door, then gathering energy from around the room and created another layer of silk around the perimeter. Then she took more and had it draw all the light into it until an impenetrable darkness filled the area. She left the beach house and closed the door, resetting each security lock. Finally, she reached into the energy that was beginning to fill its walls and placed a practiced series of wards meant to keep the building secure, safe, and uninteresting to onlookers.

    Satisfied that her new conduit was secure as she could make it, she turned away and went to her car. With a conduit this strong, she could form a direct line from miles away or draw indirectly from anywhere. Such distances would ensure she would never have to return and risk her prize's discovery.

    And she had no intentions of ever returning. Though she needed to keep her memories of Mark and their brief connections to keep her ties to the conduit strong, she had no interest in ever seeing him again, let alone freeing him. Similarly, her cocoon was flawless and inescapable. No amount of focus or study on Mark's part would ever reveal the implied weakness. He would spend the years there undisturbed, locked in his tormenting pleasure. She mused with no small glee that he might be trapped there, begging for her to return and release him even after she was dead. And after several hundred years, she had no intention of that being any time soon.

    But the point was not just to enjoy manipulating him. It had not been very long ago she had realized that final ingredient she needed to make the finest conduits any sorcerer could produce. Just as those before her had learned that living conduits were better than dead ones, just as they had learned that pleasure was a far better tool than pain, so too had she learned that there was a better tool than fear and despair.

    It wasn't just important that he kept struggling, he needed to know escape was possible. It wasn't just important that he was trapped in unending desire, he need to know those desires would be fulfilled. Without that, the sacrifice would despair, and eventually grow apathetic, and the conduit would weaken. But that wouldn't happen to Mark as it had not happened to the conduits before him. He would keep struggling, keep fighting, and keep longing. And she would enjoy every contact and thought of him all the more because of it.

    It was the final piece the recipe had been missing. It was the seasoning she had used to perfect it.

    Her favorite spice: a little dash of hope.
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