Round 121

Jeane's face twists with concentration, the strain of maintaining her complex magical control visible even from across the room. She adjusts her grip on the spell components—some arcane device that glows with an oily light—as she fine-tunes the fields binding Hera and keeping Abby obediently kneeling.

The air around them shimmers faintly, and Hera's body remains frozen against the wall, her expression a mask of barely controlled rage. Jeane takes a step toward Abby, who flinches visibly but doesn't move from her position on the floor. "Come here," Jeane commands softly, her voice carrying an edge of something... unnatural.

Abby shakes her head, fear warring with arousal in her eyes. The magical fields around them pulse, and for a moment, Hera's bonds flicker. Silra, positioned at the corridor entrance, tenses visibly. "Jeane," she hisses, "the fields are unstable."

Jeane waves a hand dismissively, but her swollen breasts betray her own distress—her arousal is clearly out of control. "It's fine," she snaps, though her voice lacks its usual authority. "Abby, I said come here."