Her body was now merely a stage for the ritual; a sheath for the sword dipping into her soul. Her tears were a testament to the water spirits pumping through her body as he gave and took from it. An erotic symbiosis formed between their minds and bodies fueled by the siren song of the water spirits.<br/><br/>The bubble of safety surrounding them, once the protection from the waves, now burst outward with the amplification of their magical powers. A bowl of water formed around them, no longer a danger, but now their servant, their radius of power growing literally in waves. The tendrils of water gripped her body to the water column, but it was her mind that was truly becoming bound and enslaved. It was her mind that was being raped. Her body was simply the tool, simply the catalyst for her own transformation into his repository slave. The ritual was nearly complete, yet his impression upon her would be, on some level, permanent. In this surreal moment, the young Arkane stared down at his helpless slave, and began to laugh, even has he pummeled her core with his shaft. A final wave crashed through her: his orgasm flooding her.<br/>