Chapter Text
Geralt slowly became aware of his surroundings; the fog clearing slightly from his mind, but still clinging at the edges, so that he found it hard to process what he was seeing. He was sitting in a chair, slumped over, his back aching. The room around him was plush and luxurious; the space dominated by a huge four poster bed. He could hear noises coming from that direction, moaning, and whimpering and the soft sounds of bodies moving together.
He groaned as the pain in his head hit him. He tried to lift his hand to rub his face but found that he was shackled down to the arms of the chair. There was a giggle from the bed.
“Look who’s finally woken up and decided to join the party.” Geralt struggled for a moment to put a name to that voice, Mistr- no, Yen, playing some dirty, trick on him. The memory of the previous few hours hovered just out of his reach. But based on what he could string together from his situation, Yen was playing some sadistic game, as per usual. What was the last thing he could remember? Yennefer had been angry about something. About Jaskier and him. She’d found out somehow about their… relationship.
“Yen – “ He croaked, but before he could continue, she was up off the bed and standing in front of him, completely naked and gorgeous, as always, and Geralt found his words dying in his throat as he looked upon her. She reached one porcelain finger out and lifted his chin to meet her eyes. Her beautiful violet eyes. The smell of lilac and gooseberries filled his nose and then his mind, fogging everything and making it so hard to think.
“Tut, tut, tut, my little witcher,” She said, her voice caressing his mind and making him shiver involuntarily, “Is that any way to speak to me? Have you forgotten your lessons from earlier?”
“Lessons…” He whispered, mind struggling to keep up.
“Oh dear,” She said, voice pouty, “it seems that potion I gave you may have been a little strong, doesn’t it? I’m sure the lessons are in that thick skull of yours somewhere though.”
There was a rustle from the bed and Yennefer looked away for a second and the spell was suddenly broken. Geralt’s head cleared a little from the fog and he could actually formulate a full thought. Lessons? What was Yen talking about? What had she done to him?
“Ah, my sweet bard, its okay, come to me.” Geralt looked over to see who Yennefer was talking to and froze in shock.
Jaskier sat crouched on the edge of the bed, completely naked, except for a heavy looking, gold, jewelled collar around his neck and a colourful jesters hat atop his head. His body was pale, but toned, and breath taking, as always. His cock was hard and red and stood at attention. Geralt was almost glad to see him here; he never missed a chance to stare at Jaskier’s beautiful body. But Jaskier was not looking at Geralt, he was staring, entranced, at Yennefer. She snapped her fingers and he immediately moved off the bed and went to her side, dropping to his knees in front of her and staring up adoringly. Geralt could see now that his eyes were different. The colour of his irises had been turned completely black, so that he looked drugged. And perhaps he was, Geralt couldn’t tell, he only smelled of sweat and lust and … obedience.
“Such a good, good boy.” Yennefer cooed and she stroked Jaskier’s head. He leant into the touch and Geralt saw his cock bobbing and dribbling pre-come on the floor. “At least one of my boys remembers his lessons. Will you help me, little lark? Geralt here needs to be reminded of his lessons, so that he can be a very good boy, like you.”
Geralt shivered at her words, strangely turned on and disgusted at the same time. He felt another, more alien emotion for him as well, weakness. He felt it permeating his bones with each of Yennefer’s caressing words. Words he feared may soon come true.
“Yes mistress, anything for you.” Jaskier’s voice cut through Geralt and gave him a surge of strength, he must fight this, for the both of them.
“Jaskier, please you have to snap out of this.” Geralt implored
“Good boy.” Yennefer whispered, ignoring Geralt’s outburst. She drew Jaskier up to a standing position beside her and began softly caressing him, drawing him into her arms and a lingering kiss. Her hands roamed over him, touching, pinching gently, and squeezing. Jaskier melted into her arms until they were moulded together. This went on for some time and Geralt felt himself becoming hard, despite his best efforts to control himself. Yennefer looked at him from the corner of her eye and Geralt could have sworn she smirked.
After a time, Yennefer drew back, leaving Jaskier breathless and flushed. She caressed his cheek one last time before using the finger to turn his head towards Geralt. His hungry black eyes fixed on him and roved over his body with interest.
“Do you like it?” Yennefer whispered in his ear, “A little present for you darling.”
“For me?” Jaskier asked, as though he had never seen Geralt before in his life.
“For us,” She breathed into his ear, “All we have to do is bring him over to us, bind him to us, as I did to you. Do you remember, he was here for your first few training sessions. It seems he needs a little more work than you did to be good though, darling. And he can’t wear his lovely collar until he’s fully trained. His lovely collar to match yours.” From a table next to the chair Geralt was bound to, Yennefer picked up an intricate, gold, bejewelled collar, a match for the one sitting now around Jaskier’s neck.
“Yes, I remember now.” Jaskier said in a dreamy voice, “And we can keep him? If we make him a good boy?”
“Yes, little lark, that’s right, would you like that?” Jaskier nodded fervently, still fixated on Geralt’s bound body.
Yennefer leant in close and began whispering to Jaskier so that even Geralt couldn’t hear, his senses dulled as they were from the drugs. Jaskier nodded and approached Geralt. He reached out to touch him as though he were a spooky horse and might bolt at the slightest touch.
“Jaskier? Jaskier, you have to listen to me, you have to fight whatever spell she has put on you. Please Jaskier, can you hear me?”
Yennefer moved slowly behind Geralt’s chair and leant down over him, enveloping him in her scent. He tried not to breathe it in, but then Jaskier’s hand suddenly brushed past his half hard cock and he gasped, taking a deep lungful of Yennefer’s intoxicating perfume. His mind clouded again, everything seeming to be shrouded in a purple haze. All he was aware of was Jaskier, slowly caressing his body and Yennefer whispering softly into his ear.
“I know you want to be a good boy for me, Geralt. You want to obey me, like Jaskier. You want to give up all of this control, surrender it all to me. You’ll feel so much better, Geralt. I promise.”
Jaskier reached up now and pushed his hands underneath the thin cotton shirt Geralt was wearing, so that his warm hands were caressing Geralt’s bare skin. He tried to fight the growing weight in his limbs as he listened to Yennefer speak. She was weaving a spell, he knew that, but this knowledge didn’t help him fight her. And soon even this knowledge was fading as Jaskier’s hands travelled to more sensitive areas. His deft fingers caressed and massaged at Geralt’s nipples, forcing a shameful moan from his lips.
Jaskier was now sat on Geralt’s lap, so that his hard cock was pushing against the muscles of Geralt’s belly. When had that happened, how long had he been there? He was rutting softly against him, drawing quiet moans from them both.
He could feel himself slipping, his mind escaping from his control. Yennefer’s fingers had found their way to the base of his skull and were now tracing an intricate pattern there. He tried to follow the flow of her fingers, but this only led his thoughts down deeper paths into his mind, into the warm purple fog.
“Geralt? Do you remember what you must call me?” Yennefer whispered, the sound drifting down into the depths of Geralt’s mind.
Geralt didn’t speak, a war raging in his mind. A small part of him still fought on, desperate to throw off the fog and find some way to escape. But this fragment of himself was beating against the soft rounded edges of surrender in his brain, and could find no foothold, he knew he was slipping. And then the words came unbidden to his mouth.
“Mistress.” He murmured; voice throaty.
“Good boy.” Yennefer whispered, voice full of warmth and love. He could feel his cock growing fully hard at her words, pushing at the fabric of the soft trousers he was wearing. Jaskier’s hand travelled down and underneath the fabric of his trousers, the touch sending a shock through Geralt and clearing his mind for a moment.
“Jaskier, no, please. Yen, what are you doing?” He implored. But his bonds stopped him moving. Yennefer continued her slow patterns on his neck as Jaskier continued his ministrations. Under their unrelenting attention, Geralt’s mind slowing started to surrender back down. Yennefer raised her other hand and snapped her fingers.
When Geralt came back to himself he was still in the chair but was now completely naked. Jaskier was still perched on his lap, bare ass tantalising close to Geralt’s cock. Mistress had moved away from Geralt’s neck and now stood, looking at him over Jaskier’s shoulder.
“You’re being such a good boy Geralt.” Mistress murmured. And this time Geralt didn’t try to control the reaction of his cock to his mistress’ words. “It’s time to get your reward for being such a good boy.” And in her hands was the collar from before, the latch open and the collar waiting.
“Go on Jaskier, it’s time to give Geralt his reward from you, and then he can have his reward from me.” Mistress touched Jaskier’s bare shoulder and Jaskier’s hand came forward to wrap around Geralt’s hard cock. His hand was wet and slimy with something, which he rubbed into Geralt’s cock, working it up and down and making Geralt dizzy with lust. But Jaskier never moved on to anything else, just patiently working Geralt’s cock until he was a wet mess; dripping pre-come everywhere, whimpering and trying in vain to thrust his hips to achieve something more.
“You need to ask mistress nicely.” Jaskier explained calmly, meeting Geralt’s eyes.
“Please mistress, please.” Geralt begged.
“Please what?” Mistress asked.
“Please let me fuck Jaskier mistress, please.”
Mistress smiled, sending warm waves through Geralt’s tingling body and placed a hand again on Jaskier’s shoulder.
Jaskier moved, repositioning himself so that Geralt’s throbbing cock was lined up with his tight little ass. And then slowly started to fuck himself onto it. Making the most delectable moans and whimpers and he worked more and more of it in.
Geralt was reduced to a groaning mess, the pleasure wiping his brain clean until he could think of nothing except the intense pleasure in his cock and mistresses’ violet eyes, which he could see, locked onto his own, over the shoulder of Jaskier, thrusting himself onto his cock, over and over again.
Jaskier thrust down once more and bottomed out, knocking the wind out of Geralt’s lungs, He was so tight! He could feel himself building steadily towards climax as Jaskier continued to bounce up and down on his cock, head thrown back in pleasure.
He reached the edge and hovered there. The pleasure becoming almost painful. But he knew, instinctively that he was not allowed to come until mistress told him to.
“Please, mistress, may I come?” He asked, his voice trembling with each of Jaskier’s movements.
“Please may I come too mistress?” Jaskier asked, voice full of subservience.
Mistress regarded them there for some time, the both of them sweating and moaning, watching her for approval.
She moved round behind Geralt’s chair once more, taking the collar with her. Geralt could no longer see her but he heard when she said.
“Yes, come for me.” And just as the orgasm hit, blinding him with its intensity, he felt the cold weight of the collar snapping around his neck, and a buzz of magic in the air.
When he finally recovered, finished shivering through the seemingly endless aftershocks, he found himself staring into Mistresses beautiful face, the only face he ever needed to see again.
She ran a cold finger down his hot cheek and smiled, “You’re mine now Geralt. Mine forever.”
And he smiled, despite her gloating tone, “Yes, yours mistress,” He sighed in contentment, “Always yours.”