The Enchantress Sat Outside Of The Cage She Had Stuffed Her Hero Into, Dangling What Seemed To Be A Small

The enchantress sat outside of the cage she had stuffed her hero into, dangling what seemed to be a small toy in her hands. She gave a sigh and looked at the hero.

Enchantress: There are some things I wish I could do to you, hero, that are just impossible. I want to cocoon you in a prison of my own flesh, hero.

Hero: Oh my Gods, WHAT?

Enchantress: No no no, that sounded far worse than I meant. Here, let me demonstrate.

Chucking she showed the hero the small dongle she was fiddling with, while lifting her gown up just high enough to see her thighs.

Enchantress: Pretend this was you.

The enchantress then dropped the toy between her thighs. Watching the hero’s expressiong grow from curious to turned on and understanding, she began flexing her thigh muscles. She tightened them, and softened them, and tightened them again, letting the toy sink down into the soft-firm-soft thigh prison.

Enchantress: Oh, to keep you surrounded utterly by my thighs on all sides. Soft, and then tight and hard, and then soft again. At my mercy whether I keep you comfortably trapped, or kill you with just a tight flex. Alas, you are too small. It remains a fantasy.

She looks at the hero and smirks, emanating her magical power. She can see the dawning terror in his eyes.

Enchantress: … Right?