"Uh oh," Faeryma knew that she had screwed up, each of her hands and feet were on a different tile, and sure enough she found herself lifted up by her four limbs by four giant women whose bulging muscles made her own body look like an unexercised weakling's in comparison. In practice, too, as the witch also found that she was held fast, unable to move at all from her pose being held up spreadeagled in midair. Her breasts and cocks were tugged down towards the floor by gravity as she strained her neck to look up at her captors. At least they were visible, though it wasn't comforting at all given how each one looked like they could overpower the witch just by herself, magic or no. Although their coloration was most curious, the white-skinned ones stood on the black tiles and vice-versa...<br/><br/>Her line of thought was interrupted by the feeling of yet another hand on her member, this one slimy instead of airy, forcibly making her hard and thick again even though she was sore and it was starting to hurt a little after having been milked dry so many times already. "I don't know whether I'm man or woman... but I'm not a whore!" Faeryma protested and struggled in vain, trying to pull her arms and legs free. Granted she didn't try quite as hard as she could, since she knew it would probably be useless anyways and she might as well save her strength. What was she, indeed? she wondered. She was neither fully male nor female, and she might claim to not be a whore, but she had the body of a whore, smelled like a whore, dressed like a whore, paid for passage with sex like a whore, and now she was getting wet like a whore, with a bead of fresh precum on the tip of her swollen red cock, and enjoying it like a whore... "I'm not a whore..." she repeated, much more weakly this time.