Drained, blinded, and bruised by the fall as she was, Rayne had also just been wrung through a powerful orgasm, and it left her both sensitized and pleasantly foggy.  She was very aware of the soft touch of one hand, the firm grip of the other on a handful of hair, the weight of the nymph straddling her... aware, but unable and even a little disinclined to interfere.  She couldn't even bring her arms in from where they had flopped to either side, one bent, the other flung out straight.  She inhaled deeply, the thick fragrance of the fungal phallus filling her nose and lungs - very much like the musk of any such organ, but somehow richer and with hints of earthiness.  And then it was against her full lips - too full perhaps, drawing attention as they had.<br/><br/>From appearances, she had thought perhaps this nymph would be cold - but her touch was warm, her mushroom-cock even hot as it pushed Rayne's lips apart, pressed further, sliding in as the half-elf's jaw offered no resistance, opening to accept the real-seeming head.  It tasted much as it smelled but moreso - powerful, but not unpleasant.  Strangely, the same could be said of the nymph's movements, how she began to thrust, slowly, filling Rayne's mouth and drawing back, dragging across the archer's lips and tongue with a nice, warm gliding sensation, growing in strength and force as the nymph increased her pace... and depth.  Rayne's throat yielded as easily as her lips had, though it remained snug around the cock-head, filling both participants with the intense feeling of each stroke, each plunge of the slightly-spongy phallus into the tight-but-giving throat of the helpless, defeated archer.  The heroine might have been a doll, for all she could do - the needless binding of her limbs merely served to make her arms flop less as the nymph's efforts became more vigorous.<br/><br/>And there was another strangeness to the scene - as Rayne's breathing became louder, more urgent around the plunging cock, and the nymph's sounds of pleasure increased... so too Rayne found her own pleasure growing, remnants of the previous abrupt orgasm reasserting themselves.  The mysterious object pressing against her panties would find them rapidly dampening.  Stunned as she was, Rayne recognized her own arousal, which grew even more as she identified it, and struggled to understand it.  She was just being used - the term "fucktoy" was perfectly apt - but though her pleasure was in no way the object, yet it was undeniable.  Yes, the intermittent touch against her lower lips contributed - but less so than the rougher thrust of the fungal cock, less so even than the pressure on her scalp, her hair being used to hold her head in position for her abuser's satisfaction.  Coated with her flowing saliva the shaft slid deeper, and Rayne's excitement grew - not diminishing as the nymph stopped backing up enough for the half-elf to snatch a breath.  Surely she wasn't being aroused at being a helpless plaything, a sheath in which her attacker could enjoy itself?  Much better to rationalize it as something else... mushrooms often had psychoactive properties, the biologist in Rae-lynne volunteered... surely it was that.  But whatever the reason, she would have moaned, voiced her pleasure, but could not - she could only rock her hips, and feebly so, as her consciousness slipped away, frustratingly close to another climax herself as the nymph flooded her with some wonderous, thick substance.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Rae-lynne still felt that arousal, or an echo of it perhaps, as her consciousness tried to resurface in another place.  Her immobility, and inability to see, at first made her think she was in the same clearing.  But it wasn't the same - although she was still not in perfect connection to her body, yet  what she did feel was<em>hers</em>, not Rayne's.  There were many similarities between the two, thanks to her taking advantage of EHO's "import yourself" option, but immersive as it was EHO didn't normally give her quite this much awareness of her very human body.  And the ground wasn't somewhat yielding soil, nor was there the smell of earth, of... musk.  And then the voices....<br/><br/>She was out of the game!  Back in the real world, back in her own body.  But... not in her apartment, seemingly.  She strained to move, strained to shout, strained to hear more, to understand what they were saying  - but she couldn't hold on to this "self", couldn't remain conscious and present, as she seemed to sink further and further from the voices.  She could have cried in frustration, so close to escape (perhaps)...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>...and then there was confusion, activity, strong and immediate sensation again.  Still no sight, but clear sound, scent, and oh-so-intense touch.  It washed over her, threatening to disperse the memory of those snatched moments, aggravating but insistent, powerful... enticing.  The arousal of earlier had increased in her "absence", now came into her with fresh, delicious force, and Rayne moaned loudly, once more in her higher, sweeter half-elf-voice.  Her mouth was filled with a reminder of earlier, and she swallowed, then moaned again as she was opened further, feeling something pressing in so inexorably.  The feeling was so wonderful, the nymph's voice and touch so perfectly seductive... so easy to just surrender to her, to embrace this feeling, to be assured of more.  "Ohhh..... ohhh, nnoooo..." it wasn't a rejection, but a groan of despair at how helpless she was before this assault.<br/><br/>If the memory of the nymph's beauty had still been in the forefront of her mind, Rayne might have truly surrendered then... but that interval in... what, a lab?... that interruption, and the desperate need to hold onto its memory, to preserve any clues from it that might help her escape, and that of... at least, over a hundred others, and maybe far more... Rae-lynne fought against Rayne's pleasure, strained to preserve herself.  Somehow she tilted her head to one side, then with an effort, to the other... a "no" of sorts, folllowed by a "I... must... must not..." raggedly pushed out and followed by another moan as the nymph changed direction.  She strained, stopped the moan, and enunciated an almost-clear, defiant "...no."<br/><br/>She hoped, of course, for a death - a chance to return to health, restore her vision... though she wasn't sure what effect it would have on her profane gift to the succubus.  But short of death, if this nymph kept her here... Rayne could not hold out forever against this bliss.<br/>