Flari wiggled her fingers again, and her guest’s voice became muffled.

  Giselle had a way with words, though for the past few days they had mostly be self-aggrandizing speeches or unsubtle insults to Flari’s femininity. Giselle was male, but had the curious preference to present dress and act like a pampered queen.

  Being old and wizened, Flari was used to his type. She didn’t know about how Giselle thought of himself and she generally didn’t care about how he or she kept himself; whether Giselle considered himself male or female seemed irrelevant so long as he was worshipped and obeyed. Normally, that wasn’t an issue. Giselle’s blood was magic. Arcane power flowed through his body. His spittle could give him control of others - and his blood was so potent that it could brainwash all but the most powerful of mages.

  That power was why Flari had captured him, of course. And that was why he was currently bound up in her wizard’s tower.

  However, his blood was far too potent - and his spittle frustrating limited in its effects. Sweat was difficult to collect.

  And that was why he was hung up in a most peculiar way.

  Giselle had long, silky hair and a slim figure. It was made all the slimmer by the intensely tight latex that kept him enclosed. After being captured, Flari had teleported him back to her sanctum and had him quickly encased. Flari was suspended horizontally with her chest and legs parallel to the floor and ceiling. She had given him two (or was it three now?) thin coats of her magical latex, starting from her (or his?) feet and going to his neck. Flari had enjoyed it, without a doubt; the skintight material looked nice, and looked much nicer when it was put to good use. Keeping his prepared in a second skin of purple latex brought a grin every time she thought about it.

  Giselle squirmed and squeaked. Flair really did like him. The fact that he was making adorable, squeaking latex noises probably helped her opinion. Her spell had enclosed him completely, drawing the latex up from his neckline past his mouth and to his forehead. Giselle had given Flari a dirty look for a moment before the purple encasement passed his eyes, freezing his expression in place. He was so totally enclosed that were it not for his long hair (normally waist-length!) being unenclosed and free, that he’d be totally anonymous. The most obvious feature on his face was now his gaping mouth, frozen open and practically inviting  Flari’s intervention.

  She spent a moment more to take it in. Giselle hung in place from a series of leather straps around his knees and harnessed around his chest. He was fantastically enclosed and so blissfully helpless. But the purpose wasn’t merely self-gratification; Flari had a goal.

  The most obvious source of fluids was Giselle’s seed. Stimulation usually kept him too horny and submissive to resist her touch. She had made good use of the setup, milking him for his arcane power and extracting its essence for her own arcane incantations. All the witches of Walpurgis knew that Flari’s concoctions allowed for incredible power at an affordable price, and Flari had quickly grown rich from her moaning milk-slave.