Cynthia clutched at her throat, then her face, then her head. It felt like she was underwater. Everything felt like a cloudy miasma, choking and thick. Clarity resumed after a few torturous seconds as Zanthie's voice cut through the fog.

"You are my slave. I am your mistress. You will obey me."

She resisted, falling to her knees and trying to scramble away but it was futile. Zanthie's low voice had this haughty air to it, this domineering tint that made it impossible to ignore. She walked closer and closer to Cynthia, and she felt all her willpower draining away. When the purple-haired sorceress finally arrived, it was to provided purpose. Cynthia was happy to obey Zanthie's every whim. She was all to eager to remove her coat and weapons, too happy to carry the unconscious Fantom to Zanthie's dungeon... when Zanthie commanded them both into a deep sleep, Cynthia obeyed without question.

When she awoke, the spell was gone. Her mind had the agonizing clarity that only comes from a rude awakening. She looked to her right, and looked to her left... and looked "up." She was hanging, upside-down, from a dark dungeon she didn't recognize. Intensely thick straps and ropes covered her body. There'd be no chance to wriggling her fingers free, for her hands were encased in heavy leather mitts. The jingling sound of straps and heavy locks from her backside indicated that they were boxtied and tightly locked in place. If someone else could get to her, maybe they could pick it, but Cynthia knew that escape from this was going to be impossible. Every strap seemed balanced and designed to keep her suspended and vulnerable. This was to say nothing of the heavy gag between her lips. She helplessly moaned into a thick ball-gag. She was startled when someone moaned back.

To her... right? To her left? Adjacent to Cynthia hung Fantom, bound just as heavily. She swayed gently to the left and right, the result of occasional kicks and squirms. She stared at Cynthia - her former enemy was now just as much a slave as she was. The straps bit into her cream-colored skin, compressing her physique and hugging her in a tight web.

Zanthie's laught was haughty and noble. She was clearly enjoying herself as she entered their dungeon.

"Hello, fellow students! What's that, no greeting for your new mistress?"

Cynthia and Fantom responded with angry expressions and gagged curses. 

"Ah, your little gag-speech really is a serenade! That's good, too, since you're going to be spending a long time like this. Maybe forever. In fact, it's quite likely, since I must say, I have no intention of letting you two ever escape. Never again will I have to brook a rival, and never again will I need to suffer some altruistic agent like Cynthia here coming after me. No, it's much better to have you here, magically preserved and under lock and key. You'll probably make some nice furniture, too. In  a few years I'll get tired of my current decor, and I'm sure that Fantom and Cynthia will make for excellent decorations."

She tried to explain how 'good always triumphs' or how 'you'll never get away with this,' but Cynthia's complaints were silenced by the heavy gag and the thick leather hood that Zanthie soon had locked over her face. Blindfolded and now mute, she could barely hear the sound of Fantom's grunts and hooded protests. At best, she could feel herself being lowered to the ground and carried off. The hood kept her in her own little sensory-deprived world as she was scarried through what felt like endless halls. It all stopped when she was unceremoniously thrown onto a bed. Zanthie's fingers played up and down her vulnerable form. As Zanthie played with her new acquistion, it dawned on Cynthia that she would never escape. 


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A "Game-Over" Screen featuring 's Cynthia Heart . 

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