The Cuckquean’s Revenge

 

The dorm room was small. Too small for two people who were nothing alike, and definitely too small for the things Sophie Hartley insisted on doing in it.

Emily sat at her desk, her textbook propped open, her highlighter trembling in her hand. She wasn't reading. She couldn't read. Not with those sounds coming from the other side of the room.

"Mmmmm, fuck yes… right there, Brad…"

Emily's cheeks burned crimson. She stared at the same paragraph she'd been staring at for twenty minutes, the words swimming meaninglessly across the page while Sophie's bedsprings creaked in a relentless, obscene rhythm.

"Oh God, you're so fucking big…"

(She's doing this on purpose. She knows I'm right here.)

Emily risked a glance over her shoulder. She immediately wished she hadn't.

Sophie was on all fours on her bed, her perfect blonde hair cascading down her tanned back, her round ass thrust high in the air as some thick-necked frat boy pounded into her from behind. Her large breasts swung with each thrust, nipples hard and pink against her golden skin. She was looking directly at Emily.

Their eyes met.

Sophie smiled.

"You like watching, don't you, Em?" Sophie purred, her voice breathy with pleasure but sharp with mockery. "Bet you've never even seen a cock this big before…"

Emily spun back around, her face on fire, her heart hammering against her ribs. She hunched over her desk, trying to make herself smaller, trying to disappear.

But she couldn't ignore the dampness between her thighs.

---

Emily had always been invisible. It was, she'd decided long ago, simply her natural state of being. At nineteen years old, she was still waiting for the puberty fairy to visit—her chest flat as a board, her hips narrow and boyish, her mousy brown hair perpetually limp no matter what she did to it. She wore oversized sweaters to hide her lack of curves, kept her eyes down in hallways, and spoke only when spoken to.

She was an honours student. Top of her class. Destined for great things, her professors said.

None of that mattered when Sophie Hartley walked into a room.

Sophie was everything Emily wasn't. Tall, tanned, and obscenely blessed by genetics—or perhaps some very expensive cosmetic work courtesy of her daddy's money. Her breasts were large and perfectly round, always threatening to spill out of whatever tiny top she'd squeezed herself into. Her ass was a peach emoji come to life, firm from hours at the gym, bouncing hypnotically when she walked. Her blonde hair was always perfectly tousled, her makeup always flawless, her confidence absolutely nuclear.

Sophie didn't walk. She strutted. And she fucked like she was auditioning for something.

The housing office had paired them together as some sort of cosmic joke. The virgin honour student and the campus slut, sharing 150 square feet of dorm room space.

Sophie had made the rules clear from day one.

"I don't care if you're here when I bring guys back," she'd said, applying lip gloss in the mirror while Emily unpacked her things. "In fact, maybe it'll be educational for you. God knows you need it."

Emily had wanted to protest. To demand respect. To establish boundaries.

Instead, she'd just nodded meekly and continued unpacking.

---

There was one other person on campus who made Emily's heart race.

She first saw Morgana Stone during orientation week, crossing the quad in a flowing black dress, silver jewellery glinting in the sunlight, dark hair streaming behind her like a banner. She moved like she owned the world—like everyone else was just borrowing space in her reality.

Emily had stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth slightly open, her breath catching in her throat.

(Oh. Oh no.)

She'd known she liked girls for years—had known it the way you know your own name, quietly and certainly and with no fanfare. But she'd never felt it like this. Never felt her whole body light up at the sight of someone, never felt her palms go sweaty and her thoughts scatter like startled birds.

Morgana was beautiful. Terrifying. Magnetic.

And completely, utterly out of Emily's league.

Over the following weeks, Emily found herself watching for Morgana everywhere. She memorised her schedule—not on purpose, just from observation. Morgana had coffee at the campus café every Tuesday and Thursday at 10am. She studied in the library's occult section on Wednesday evenings. She attended the occasional party, always standing apart from the crowd, always looking vaguely bored by everyone around her.

Emily never approached her. Of course she didn't. What would she even say?

(Hi, I'm nobody, and I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and I've been basically stalking you for a month, and please don't hex me because I heard you're a witch and honestly I believe it.)

So she watched from afar. Pined in silence. Added Morgana to the long list of things she wanted but could never have.

Right next to confidence. And curves. And a life that didn't involve watching her roommate fuck.

---

Three months into the semester, Emily had lost count of how many men she'd watched Sophie fuck.

There was Tyler, the swimmer, who'd made Sophie scream so loud that someone called campus security. There was Marcus, the basketball player, whose cock had been so big that Emily couldn't stop thinking about it for a week. There was Jake, there was Connor, there was some guy whose name Sophie never even bothered to learn—she'd just called him "You" the entire time.

Every single time, Sophie made sure Emily was watching.

She'd position herself strategically. She'd moan louder when Emily was in the room. She'd make eye contact while she sucked cock, her blue eyes gleaming with malicious amusement as Emily squirmed in her desk chair.

"Look at her," Sophie would sometimes say to whatever guy she was riding. "Poor little Emily. Probably never even been kissed. Isn't that sad?"

The guys would laugh. Emily would die inside.

But she never left the room.

(Why don't I leave? I could go to the library. I could stay with friends—if I had any. Why do I stay?)

She knew why.

Every night after Sophie's conquests departed, after the lights went out and Sophie's breathing deepened into sleep, Emily would lie in her narrow twin bed and touch herself. Her fingers would slip beneath her plain cotton underwear, finding the shameful wetness there, and she would replay every moan, every gasp, every filthy thing Sophie had said.

Sometimes she imagined herself in Sophie's place. Beautiful. Confident. Desired.

But lately—more and more often—she imagined someone else entirely.

Dark hair. Pale skin beatific lips curved in a knowing smile.

Morgana.

Emily would cum with Morgana's name on her lips, muffled into her pillow, and feel the familiar wash of shame and longing that had become the background music of her life.

---

Morgana Stone was bored.

This was not unusual. Morgana was almost always bored. The world was full of tedious people doing tedious things, and she had long since stopped expecting anything to surprise her.

Derek was the latest in a long line of disappointments.

She'd thought he might be different—he was smart, at least, and he read actual books, and he didn't flinch when she talked about her interests. But two years in, she'd realised the truth: he was just another man who wanted her to be smaller than she was. Quieter. Nicer.

He didn't understand her. He never would.

And the sex was… fine. Adequate. He tried, she'd give him that. But there was always something missing—a spark, a fire, a sense that her partner could actually match her.

Morgana had known since she was fifteen that she preferred women. The few girlfriends she'd had in high school had been revelations—the softness of feminine bodies, the understanding in feminine eyes, the way women knew things about pleasure that men had to be taught.

But finding a woman who could match her energy? Who could meet her darkness with equal darkness, her hunger with equal hunger?

That was proving impossible.

So she stayed with Derek, because at least he was there, and she told herself that maybe this was all there was. Maybe she was meant to be bored forever.

And then Sophie Hartley happened.

---

The video arrived on a Thursday night.

Morgana was in her room, surrounded by candles, reading a grimoire that had belonged to her grandmother. Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.

With a sigh, she picked it up.

The message was from an unknown number. It contained a video and a caption:

Your boyfriend says I'm tighter than you xoxo

Morgana's blood ran cold.

She pressed play.

The video was thirty seconds long. It showed a blonde girl—Sophie Hartley, Morgana recognised her from around campus—riding Derek in some dingy dorm room. Sophie was looking directly at the camera, smirking, her perfect body bouncing obscenely.

Derek's face was visible. His expression was one of mindless pleasure.

And in the background, barely visible, was another girl. Mousy brown hair, hunched shoulders, watching from a desk with a mixture of horror and fascination.

Morgana watched the video three times.

Her face remained expressionless. But her eyes—dark as pitch, rimmed with black liner—burned with something ancient and terrible.

She didn't care about Derek. Not really. He was a placeholder, a warm body, a distraction from loneliness.

But disrespect? Mockery? Some vapid blonde bitch sending her a video to rub her face in it?

That, Morgana would not tolerate.

She reached for a very old book.

---

The curse was elegant in its cruelty.

Morgana had learned about it from her grandmother, who had learned about it from her grandmother, passed down through generations of women who understood that the best revenge wasn't quick—it was slow. Transformative. Poetic.

The Mark of the Cuckquean would drain Sophie's feminine essence—her beauty, her confidence, her sexual power—and redistribute it to the women closest to her. The more time they spent together, the faster the transfer would occur.

And the cruellest part?

Sophie would become aroused by her own diminishment. The mark would rewire her desires, turning her humiliation into pleasure, her degradation into ecstasy. She would watch herself fade, watch other women rise, and she would want it.

She would become the cuckquean. The watcher. The pathetic little thing in the corner, rubbing herself raw as better women took everything she once had.

Morgana cast the curse under a waning moon, speaking words that predated English, drawing symbols in blood and ash. When it was done, she felt the magic settle into the world like a stone dropping into still water.

Now she just had to wait.

And watch.

---

Sophie woke up the next morning with a strange itch between her shoulder blades.

"What the fuck…"

She twisted in front of her full-length mirror, trying to see her back. There was something there—faint, barely visible, like a birthmark she'd never noticed before. A small symbol, dark against her tanned skin, right at the base of her spine.

"Probably just a bruise," she muttered, shrugging it off. Derek had been rough. She liked rough.

She pulled on a tennis skirt and a tiny white top, fluffed her hair, and headed to class.

By the time she got back that evening, the mark had grown.

---

Emily noticed it first.

She was trying not to look at Sophie—she was always trying not to look at Sophie—but something drew her eye. Sophie was changing clothes, stripping off her gym gear with her usual shameless confidence, and there, snaking up her spine, was… something.

"Sophie," Emily heard herself say. "Your back…"

"What?" Sophie grabbed her hand mirror, angling it to see. Her brow furrowed. "What the hell is that?"

The mark had spread. It was no longer just a small symbol—it was an intricate design now, dark lines curling up her spine like creeping vines. Letters were forming in the pattern, though Emily couldn't quite make them out.

"Did you get a tattoo?" Emily asked.

"No! I didn't—I don't know what this is!" For the first time, Sophie sounded genuinely unsettled. "It wasn't there yesterday. I mean, there was a little spot, but…"

She trailed off, staring at her reflection.

Emily felt a strange tingle run through her body. A warmth spreading from her core, unfamiliar and electric.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," Emily suggested.

Sophie shook her head, her composure returning. "It's fine. Probably some weird allergic reaction. Whatever." She pulled on a dress and grabbed her purse. "I've got a date. Don't wait up."

She left without another word.

Emily sat on her bed, the strange warmth still pulsing through her. She felt… different. Lighter, somehow. More awake.

She caught her reflection in Sophie's abandoned hand mirror.

Was it her imagination, or did her skin look clearer?

---

Morgana began following Sophie three days after casting the curse.

She told herself it was just to observe. To make sure the magic was working. To watch her revenge unfold.

But if she was honest—and Morgana was always honest with herself, even when it was uncomfortable—she also wanted to see it. Wanted to witness Sophie's slow destruction with her own eyes. There was something deeply satisfying about watching karma work in real time.

She kept her distance, using minor glamours to avoid notice. Sophie was oblivious, of course—too wrapped up in her own world to notice the dark figure trailing her across campus.

What Morgana didn't expect was the roommate.

The mousy girl from the video—Emily, she'd learned from some casual investigation—was changing. At first, Morgana thought she was imagining it. A trick of the light. But no. Day by day, Emily was transforming.

Her skin was clearer. Her hair was shinier. And—was she taller? Were her clothes fitting differently?

The curse was working. The transfer was happening. Small changes but with the promise of more to come.

But there was something else, too. Something in Emily's eyes that Morgana recognised.

Hunger.

Not the vapid, desperate hunger that Sophie displayed—the need to be desired, to be validated, to be seen. This was something darker. Deeper. A hunger for power.

Morgana found herself paying less attention to Sophie's decline and more attention to Emily's rise.

She found herself… intrigued.

---

One week after the mark appeared, Emily woke up with breasts.

Not big ones—not yet—but there. Actual curves beneath her sleep shirt, small but undeniably present. She cupped them in disbelief, feeling their new weight, their new sensitivity.

"What…"

She stumbled to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, and for a moment, she didn't recognise herself.

Her skin was clearer. Her hair seemed shinier. And there was something in her eyes—a spark that hadn't been there before.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Sophie groaned from her bed, rolling over. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

"Ugh." Sophie sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. She looked… tired. Paler than usual. Her hair was limp against her shoulders.

Emily frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just didn't sleep well." Sophie yawned and stood up, stretching. "God, I feel like shit."

Emily watched her shuffle to the bathroom. Was it her imagination, or did Sophie's usually perfect ass look… smaller?

The strange warmth pulsed through her again, stronger this time.

She touched her new breasts and smiled.

---

By the second week, the changes were impossible to ignore.

Emily's body was transforming. Her breasts had grown from barely-there to a full B-cup, her hips had begun to flare, and her waist had narrowed. Her mousy brown hair was developing golden highlights, and her skin had taken on a healthy glow.

She started wearing different clothes. Tighter clothes. She found herself reaching for Sophie's crop tops instead of her usual oversized sweaters.

Sophie didn't seem to notice. She was too busy trying to figure out why her bras were suddenly too big.

"I must be losing weight," she muttered, adjusting her straps. "I need to eat more."

But eating more didn't help. Nothing helped. The mark on her back continued to grow, now reaching from her tailbone to her shoulder blades, the dark lines forming words that neither girl could read.

---

Morgana watched from the shadows as Emily left the dorm building, wearing a crop top that showed off her newly developed curves. The transformation was accelerating now—Emily's body had blossomed into something genuinely stunning over the past two weeks, and her demeanour had shifted to match.

She walked differently. Head high, shoulders back, hips swaying with unconscious confidence. She met people's eyes instead of looking away. She smiled—and it wasn't the shy, apologetic smile of before. It was knowing. Powerful. Wicked.

Morgana felt something stir in her chest.

She'd cast the curse expecting to create a monster—to turn Sophie's roommate into a beautiful, confident woman who would inadvertently torture Sophie just by existing. She hadn't expected to find that monster attractive.

But watching Emily stride across campus, watching her command attention without even trying, watching the subtle cruelty that was beginning to glint in her eyes…

Morgana was interested.

For the first time in years, she was genuinely, dangerously interested.

---

"Emily? Is that… is that my top?"

Emily turned from the mirror, where she'd been admiring how Sophie's designer crop top hugged her new curves. "Oh, this? I borrowed it. You don't mind, do you?"

Sophie blinked. There was something different about Emily's voice. Harder. More confident.

"I—no, I guess not, but—"

"Great." Emily grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "Don't wait up."

She left Sophie standing in the middle of the room, mouth open, too confused to speak.

Outside, the autumn air was crisp and clear. Emily breathed it in, feeling alive in a way she never had before. Her body thrummed with energy, with power, and she wanted to use it.

She wanted to do something bold.

She wanted to talk to Morgana Stone.

The thought would have terrified her two weeks ago. Would have sent her scurrying back to her room, back to her books, back to the safety of invisibility.

But she wasn't that girl anymore.

She spotted Morgana across the quad, sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree, reading something old and leather-bound. Dark hair, pale skin, black dress. Beautiful. Terrifying. Magnetic.

Emily's heart raced, but she didn't hesitate.

She walked straight over.

---

Morgana looked up from her grimoire to find Emily standing in front of her.

For a moment, she was genuinely surprised. She'd been following Emily for weeks, watching her transformation, but she'd never expected Emily to approach her. The mousy, invisible girl from the video didn't seem like the type to make first moves.

But this wasn't that girl anymore.

Emily stood with her weight on one hip, her new curves displayed confidently in Sophie's stolen clothes, her eyes bright with something that looked almost like challenge.

"You're Morgana Stone," Emily said. It wasn't a question.

"I am." Morgana closed her book slowly, giving Emily her full attention. "And you're Emily. Sophie Hartley's roommate."

A flicker of surprise crossed Emily's face. "You know who I am?"

"I know a lot of things." Morgana smiled—a slow, dangerous smile. "I also know you've been watching me. For months now. Tuesday and Thursday mornings at the café. Wednesday evenings in the library."

Emily's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. "You noticed."

"I notice everything." Morgana tilted her head, studying Emily with open curiosity. "You look different than you did a few weeks ago."

"I feel different."

"I can see that." Morgana patted the bench beside her. "Sit."

It was a command, not an invitation. Emily sat anyway.

Up close, Morgana was even more beautiful than Emily had imagined. Her skin was flawless, pale as moonlight. Her eyes were dark and deep, like wells you could fall into and never climb out of. Her lips were full and painted deep burgundy, curved in a permanent suggestion of secrets.

"So," Morgana said. "What changed?"

Emily considered the question. She didn't know—not really. She just knew that something inside her had woken up, something hungry and powerful and dark.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I like it."

Morgana's smile widened. "I like it too."

---

They started meeting regularly after that.

Coffee on Tuesday mornings. Study sessions on Wednesday evenings—though neither of them studied much. Long conversations that stretched into the night, covering everything from philosophy to magic to the precise ways that men were disappointing.

"Derek is useless," Morgana said one evening, sprawled across her bed while Emily sat cross-legged beside her. "I don't know why I stay with him."

"Why do you?"

Morgana was quiet for a moment. "Because I haven't found anyone better."

Emily's heart thudded. "Anyone? Or any woman?"

Morgana turned her head, her dark eyes meeting Emily's. "You're perceptive."

"I've watched you for months. You're never really with him. You're always somewhere else." Emily hesitated, then pushed forward. "You're like me. You want something different. Something… more."

"And what do you want, Emily?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility.

Emily could have deflected. Could have made a joke, changed the subject, retreated to the safety of friendship.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Morgana Stone.

---

Morgana's lips were soft and warm and tasted like wine.

For a moment, she didn't respond—frozen with surprise—and Emily felt a spike of terror. She'd misread everything. She'd ruined everything. She was about to pull back, to apologise, to flee—

And then Morgana's hand was in her hair, pulling her closer, and Morgana was kissing her back with a hunger that made Emily's whole body ignite.

"Finally," Morgana breathed against her lips. "I've been waiting for you to do that."

"You have?"

"Since the first time you sat down on that bench." Morgana pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes glittering with something that might have been triumph. "I've been watching you too, Emily. Watching you change. Watching you become… this."

"What is 'this'?"

Morgana's smile was sharp and beautiful. "Something magnificent."

They kissed again, deeper this time, hands beginning to explore. Emily's new body was singing with sensation, every nerve ending alive and desperate for more.

But Morgana pulled back before things could go further.

"Not yet," she said, her voice rough with restraint. "There's something I need to tell you first."

---

Emily listened in silence as Morgana explained everything.

The curse. The mark. Sophie's slow destruction and Emily's simultaneous rise. The ancient magic that was redistributing Sophie's feminine essence, pouring it into Emily like water into an empty vessel.

"You did this to me?" Emily asked when Morgana finished.

"I did this to Sophie." Morgana's voice was careful, watching Emily's reaction. "You were just… the beneficiary. The woman closest to her. The one who absorbed what she lost."

Emily should have been angry. Should have been horrified. Should have felt violated, used, manipulated.

Instead, she felt powerful.

"So everything I am now—my body, my confidence, my—" She gestured vaguely. "—everything. It all came from Sophie?"

"Yes."

"And she's going to keep losing it? Keep fading? While I keep growing?"

"Yes. Until the mark is complete."

Emily was quiet for a long moment. Morgana watched her, tense with uncertainty, waiting for the rejection she was sure was coming.

"Good," Emily said finally.

Morgana blinked. "Good?"

"She tortured me for months. Made me watch her fuck. Made me feel worthless and invisible and pathetic." Emily's voice was hard, cold, utterly certain. "She deserves this. She deserves to feel what I felt."

Something shifted in Morgana's expression. Wonder. Admiration. Recognition.

"You really have changed," she said softly.

"You made me this way."

"No." Morgana reached out, cupping Emily's face in her hands. "I just gave you the opportunity. Everything else—the darkness, the hunger, the cruelty—that was already inside you. Waiting."

Emily leaned into her touch. "Then thank you for setting it free."

They kissed again, and this time, neither of them pulled back.

---

Morgana had fucked a lot of people. Men, mostly—boring, predictable, disappointing. A few women, back in high school and her first year of university. None of them had matched her energy. None of them had been able to keep up.

Emily kept up.

More than kept up—she led.

They tumbled onto Morgana's bed in a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses, hands tearing at clothes, mouths finding skin. Emily's new body was hypersensitive, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through her nervous system, and she moaned into Morgana's mouth as clever fingers found her breasts.

"Fuck," Emily gasped. "That feels—"

"I know." Morgana's voice was dark with satisfaction. "Your body is still adjusting. Still absorbing Sophie's sensitivity." She pinched a nipple, and Emily arched off the bed. "Everything feels more intense now. More alive."

"Don't stop."

"I wasn't planning to."

Morgana kissed her way down Emily's body—neck, collarbone, the swell of her new breasts, the plane of her stomach—until she reached the waistband of Emily's jeans.

"May I?"

"Yes."

Morgana pulled off Emily's jeans and underwear in one smooth motion, revealing glistening pink flesh already swollen with need. She made a sound of approval deep in her throat.

"Beautiful," she murmured. "This—" She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly up Emily's slit. "—this is mine now."

Emily's hips bucked. Her hands fisted in Morgana's dark hair.

"Oh God—"

Morgana ate her like she'd been starving for it. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers sliding inside to find the spot that made Emily see stars. She was relentless, merciless, utterly focused on Emily's pleasure.

And Emily—Emily who had never been touched by anyone, never been wanted by anyone, never been seen by anyone—shattered.

She came screaming Morgana's name, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching around Morgana's fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through her. It went on and on, impossibly intense, the curse-enhanced sensitivity making every sensation ten times more powerful than it should have been.

When it finally subsided, she lay gasping on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Holy shit," she managed.

Morgana crawled up her body, pressing a kiss to her trembling lips. "That was just the beginning."

---

They spent hours exploring each other.

Emily discovered that Morgana liked to be bitten—hard enough to leave marks. That she came hardest when Emily's fingers were buried deep inside her while Emily's thumb circled her clit. That she made the most beautiful sounds when she was close—breathy whimpers that built into desperate moans.

Morgana discovered that Emily was a natural dominant. That she instinctively knew when to be gentle and when to be rough. That she had a wicked mouth, both for kissing and for other things.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Morgana gasped after Emily had made her cum for the third time, tongue still buried in her pussy.

Emily looked up, her lips glistening with Morgana's arousal. "I didn't. I just… know."

"The curse," Morgana realised. "You're absorbing Sophie's skills along with her body."

"Is that bad?"

Morgana laughed breathlessly. "That is the opposite of bad."

They fell asleep tangled together, and when Emily woke the next morning, she felt more complete than she ever had in her life.

---

The first time Emily interfered with Sophie, Morgana watched from outside the dorm room window.

Sophie had brought back another frat boy—Ryan, or Brian, or something forgettable—and was kneeling between his legs, her lips wrapped around his cock. It was her usual performance: loud slurping sounds, exaggerated moans, occasional glances toward Emily to make sure she was watching.

But something was different this time.

Sophie's technique seemed… off. Sloppy. Uncertain. She kept pausing, adjusting, as if she'd forgotten how to do something she'd done a hundred times before.

Morgana smiled in the darkness. The curse was accelerating.

And then Emily moved.

"Move."

The word was sharp, commanding. Morgana felt a thrill run through her.

Sophie pulled back, confused. "What?"

"I said move." Emily was on her feet, crossing the room. "You're doing it wrong."

"I'm—excuse me?"

Emily grabbed Sophie's shoulder and pushed her aside. Sophie stumbled back, too shocked to resist.

And then Emily was kneeling there, wrapping her hand around the guy's shaft, and taking him into her mouth.

Morgana watched, transfixed, as Emily demonstrated exactly what Sophie had lost. The confidence. The skill. The raw sexual power that now belonged to someone else.

She watched Sophie watching Emily. Saw the confusion, the jealousy, the dawning humiliation.

And beneath it all—the unmistakable flush of arousal.

Morgana pressed her hand between her own legs and came silently against the window, her eyes never leaving Emily's bobbing head.

---

"I want you to see something," Emily said a few days later.

They were in Morgana's room, curled up together on the bed. Their relationship had deepened rapidly over the past week—spending every spare moment together, talking, fucking, planning.

"What?"

"Sophie." Emily's eyes glittered with malicious delight. "She's bringing someone back tonight. And I'm going to take him from her. Again."

Morgana sat up, interested. "And you want me to watch?"

"I want you to enjoy it." Emily leaned in, kissing her softly. "I want you to see what your curse created. What we created."

Morgana's heart swelled with something that felt dangerously like love.

"Show me."

---

Morgana hid in Emily's closet, watching through the slats as the scene unfolded.

Sophie had found a gorgeous guy at a party—tall, muscular, exactly her type—and brought him back to the dorm with every intention of fucking him senseless. She climbed on top of him, tried to guide his cock inside her, but her body wouldn't cooperate.

She was clumsy. Uncoordinated. The rhythm that used to come so naturally was gone, stolen, transferred to someone else.

"Is everything okay?" the guy asked.

"Fine," Sophie snapped. "Just—give me a second—"

And then Emily was there.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

Sophie looked up. Emily was standing beside the bed, wearing one of Sophie's silk robes, her arms crossed over her magnificent chest.

"Get off him," Emily commanded.

"Emily, I don't know what's gotten into you, but—"

"Now."

Sophie's body moved before her mind could catch up, rolling off the guy, stumbling to the side of the bed.

Emily smiled.

She let the robe fall.

In the closet, Morgana's breath caught. She'd seen Emily's body many times now, had worshipped every inch of it, but watching her like this—dominant, powerful, claiming—was something else entirely.

Emily climbed onto the bed and sank down onto the guy's cock with a long, luxurious moan.

Sophie watched.

Her hand crept between her legs.

And Morgana watched them both, her own hand mirroring Sophie's movements, her heart full of dark, possessive joy.

---

Afterward, when the guy had left and Sophie had left in tears, Emily opened the closet door.

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked, pulling Morgana into her arms.

"You were magnificent."

"I felt magnificent." Emily grinned "Sophie is getting weaker. More pathetic. More desperate."

"The curse is almost complete." Morgana ran her fingers over Emily's curves. "A few more weeks and she'll be totally broken. Totally yours."

"Ours," Emily corrected. "I want to share her with you."

Morgana's eyes lit up. "You'd do that?"

"I'd do anything for you." Emily kissed her, soft and sweet and full of promise. "I love you, Morgana."

They fell upon the bed and began to fuck.

"I love you too," moaned Morgana as Emily ate her pussy and for the first time in her life... she meant it.

---

The semester continued, and the transformation accelerated.

Emily bloomed into a goddess. Her body reached its final form—large, perfectly round breasts, a tight waist, an ass that could stop traffic. Her hair was platinum blonde now, her features sharpened and refined, her skin perpetually glowing. She radiated confidence and sexuality, a magnetic presence that drew every eye in every room.

And she had Morgana at her side.

They became the power couple of campus—the beautiful blonde goddess and the mysterious dark witch, turning heads wherever they went. People whispered about them. Wondered about them. Wanted them.

They still fucked men sometimes. Emily had discovered she enjoyed cock—the fullness, the primal pleasure, the way men would do anything for a chance to be inside her. And Morgana enjoyed watching Emily fuck, enjoyed the power dynamic, enjoyed claiming Emily's mouth while some nameless frat boy pounded her from behind.

But it was different with each other.

With men, sex was fun. Entertaining. A game they always won.

With each other, sex was transcendent.

No one could make Emily cum like Morgana could. No one could make Morgana cum like Emily could. They knew each other's bodies like they knew their own—every sensitive spot, every secret desire, every way to build pleasure until it became unbearable and then tip over into ecstasy.

"I've never felt this way about anyone," Morgana confessed one night, her head resting on Emily's chest. "I didn't think I could."

"Neither did I." Emily stroked her dark hair. "I was invisible for so long. I never thought anyone would see me."

"I see you." Morgana looked up, her eyes fierce with love. "I see everything you are. Everything you're becoming."

"And you like what you see?"

"I love what I see."

They kissed, and the world outside ceased to exist.

---

Sophie's degradation deepened by the day.

She was their pet now—not officially, not yet, but in every way that mattered. She cleaned their room. She watched them fuck. She knelt at their feet when they told her to.

And she loved every second of it.

The mark had rewired her completely. Her only joy came from serving. Her only pleasure came from watching. Her only purpose was to witness the happiness of the women who had taken everything from her.

"Look at her," Emily said one night, addressing the guy she was riding while Morgana watched from the bed beside them. "That's Sophie. She used to be hot. Used to be the biggest slut on campus."

The guy glanced at Sophie, huddled in her corner, her hand moving rhythmically between her legs.

"Her?" He sounded incredulous.

"I know, right?" Emily laughed, grinding down hard. "Now she just watches. Don't you, Sophie?"

"Yes, Mistress," Sophie whispered.

Morgana smiled, reaching out to stroke Emily's face as she rode the guy to completion. "I love watching you work."

"I love being watched by you."

They came together—Emily from the cock inside her, Morgana from Emily's fingers finding her under the covers—their moans harmonising in the candlelit room.

Sophie came too, alone in her corner, tears of joy streaming down her face.

She loved how they degraded her. She wanted more.

---

One night, Emily spat on Sophie.

She was on her knees, watching Emily and Morgana make love—slow and tender and intimate, the way they only were with each other—and Emily looked down at her and spat.

The glob of saliva landed on Sophie's cheek.

Sophie came instantly, her whole body convulsing with shameful pleasure.

"Oh my God," Emily laughed, pausing her movements to stare. "Did you see that?"

Morgana grinned. "She's completely broken."

"Please," Sophie whimpered. "Please, Mistress… please, Goddess…"

"Please what?"

"Please… do it again."

Emily and Morgana exchanged a look—amused, delighted, hungry.

Morgana leaned over and spat on Sophie too.

Sophie came again, sobbing with gratitude.

---

The ultimate degradation came on a random Tuesday night.

Emily had to piss. She was drunk on wine and power and Morgana's kisses, and she looked at Sophie—kneeling in her corner, watching them with desperate devotion—and felt something dark unfurl in her chest.

"Come here," she commanded.

Sophie crawled to her on hands and knees.

"Open your mouth."

Sophie obeyed without hesitation.

And Emily released.

The warm stream hit Sophie's tongue, her face, her chest. Emily was pissing on her, marking her, claiming her in the most degrading way possible.

Morgana watched with wide eyes, her hand moving between her own legs.

"Fuck," she breathed. "That's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Sophie swallowed everything Emily gave her, moaning with pleasure, her body shaking with the force of another orgasm.

When it was over, Emily turned to Morgana. "Your turn?"

Morgana hesitated for only a second before standing up and positioning herself over Sophie's upturned face.

"Open wider," she commanded.

Sophie obeyed.

And Morgana added her own stream to Emily's, watching their pet swallow and moan and come undone beneath them.

When they were finished, they stood together, arms around each other, looking down at the broken, soaked, ecstatic creature at their feet.

"I love you," Emily said.

"I love you too," Morgana replied.

And Sophie, curled on the floor in a puddle of her own making, whispered: "Thank you, Mistress. Thank you, Goddess. Thank you for making me yours."

---

The final ceremony happened on the last night of the semester.

Morgana had been planning it for weeks—a ritual to complete the curse, to seal Sophie's fate forever, to bind the three of them together in a web of power and submission and dark, delicious pleasure.

Candles circled the room. Incense burned. Morgana had drawn symbols on the floor in chalk, ancient words that Sophie couldn't read but Emily—touched by magic now, connected to Morgana in ways that went beyond the physical—understood instinctively.

"Strip," Morgana commanded.

Sophie stripped.

Her body was a shadow of what it had been—thin, pale, barely feminine. The mark covered her entire back now, an intricate tapestry of dark lines that seemed to writhe in the candlelight.

"On all fours."

Sophie dropped to her hands and knees.

Emily watched from the bed, her body humming with anticipation. She was naked too, her perfect curves glowing in the warm light, her pussy already wet with need.

Morgana stood behind Sophie, adjusting the straps of her harness. The dildo jutting from her hips was massive—thick and black and terrifying—and Sophie whimpered at the sight of it.

"Please," Sophie breathed. "Please, Goddess…"

"Please what?"

"Please… use me. Break me. Make me yours forever."

Morgana's smile was sharp as a blade.

"With pleasure."

---

She pushed in slowly at first—giving Sophie's ass time to adjust, time to stretch around the massive intrusion. Sophie cried out, her fingers clawing at the floor, her body trembling with pain and pleasure and overwhelming need.

"That's it," Morgana purred, her hips rocking steadily. "Take it. Take all of it."

Emily slid off the bed and knelt in front of Sophie, lifting her chin so their eyes met.

"Look at me," Emily commanded. "Look at me while she fucks you."

Sophie's eyes—glassy with tears, dark with submission—locked onto Emily's.

"You used to think you were better than me," Emily said softly. "You used to make me watch while you fucked all those guys. You used to laugh at me."

"I'm sorry," Sophie sobbed. "I'm sorry, Mistress—"

"Don't be sorry." Emily leaned close, her lips brushing Sophie's ear. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't been such a cruel, selfish bitch, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have become what I am. I wouldn't have found Morgana. I wouldn't have found love."

Behind Sophie, Morgana's thrusts deepened, her hips snapping forward with bruising force. Sophie screamed—a raw, broken sound of pure overwhelm.

Emily stood and moved to Morgana, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend from behind, kissing her neck while Morgana continued to pound into their slave.

"I love you," Emily murmured against Morgana's skin.

"I love you too." Morgana turned her head, capturing Emily's lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

They made out above Sophie's trembling form—tongues tangling, hands wandering, lost in each other even as they used her—and Sophie watched them with desperate, adoring eyes.

(This is what I'm for. This is all I'm good for. Watching them love each other. Being used for their pleasure.)

The thought made her cum so hard she saw white.

---

The ritual reached its peak.

Morgana's thrusts grew faster, harder, more brutal. The symbols on the floor began to glow, pulsing with dark energy that matched the rhythm of her hips. Sophie's cries echoed off the walls, desperate and broken and beautiful.

Emily watched, her hand between her own legs, her eyes fixed on the woman she loved.

Morgana was magnificent. Powerful and dark and utterly in control, her pale body glowing in the candlelight, her eyes blazing with triumph. She was everything Emily had ever wanted—a match for her darkness, a partner in her cruelty, a love that consumed everything it touched.

The final line of the mark appeared—a closing symbol at the base of Sophie's neck—and Sophie screamed.

The magic flared, bright and dark at once, and all three of them came together. Sophie from the overwhelming stimulation and the completion of her submission. Morgana from the triumph of her revenge and the pleasure of the harness. Emily from watching them both, from being part of something so dark and perfect and complete.

When it was over, they collapsed together in a heap of trembling limbs and heaving breath.

Morgana pulled out of Sophie slowly, setting aside the harness. She ran her fingers over the completed mark, tracing the intricate lines with something like reverence.

"It's done," she said softly. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Emily curled into her side, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "You did it. Your revenge is complete."

"No." Morgana turned to look at her, her dark eyes shining with love. "Our revenge. And it gave me so much more than I ever expected."

"What do you mean?"

Morgana smiled—not the sharp, dangerous smile she showed the world, but something softer. More vulnerable.

"I cast this curse expecting to destroy someone. I never expected to find you. To find love. To find…" She gestured at the three of them—herself, Emily, and Sophie curled at their feet. "…this."

Emily's heart swelled. "I love you, Morgana Stone."

"I love you too, Emily." Morgana kissed her, soft and sweet and full of promise. "I never thought I could. But you match me. You complete me."

"No one makes me feel the way you do," Emily agreed. "Boys are fun, but you…" She trailed off, searching for words. "You're everything."

"So are you."

They kissed again, deeper this time, and Sophie watched from the floor with adoring, desperate eyes.

---

The semester ended with Emily as campus royalty.

She was invited to every party, desired by every man, envied by every woman. She'd fucked her way through half the frat houses and left a trail of devoted admirers in her wake. Professors gave her extensions without question. Students parted in hallways to let her pass.

And through it all, Morgana was at her side.

They were the power couple everyone wanted to be—or wanted to be with. They went to parties together, left together, were never seen without each other. The rumours about them were legendary. Some said they were witches. Some said they were demons. Some said they were just really, really hot.

All of them were right.

Sophie was their dorm slave now—officially, permanently. She had no other life. No other purpose. The mark on her back bound her to them, body and soul, and she wouldn't have had it any other way.

She cleaned their room. She served their meals. She knelt at their feet while they studied, worshipped their bodies while they made love, watched from the corner while they entertained other people—because sometimes Emily still liked cock, and Morgana enjoyed watching, and both of them enjoyed making Sophie watch.

She had never been happier.

It didn't make sense—she knew it didn't make sense—but the curse had rewired her completely. Her only joy came from serving. Her only pleasure came from watching. Her only purpose was to make her Goddess and her Mistress happy.

And they were happy.

So deliriously, wickedly, perfectly happy.

---

On the last night before summer break, Emily and Morgana lay tangled together in bed, naked and satisfied, Sophie curled at their feet like a devoted pet.

"I can't believe this is my life now," Emily murmured, tracing patterns on Morgana's pale skin. "A year ago, I was nobody. I was invisible. I was nothing."

"And now?"

"Now I'm a goddess. With the most powerful witch girlfriend and the most pathetic slave on campus." She grinned. "And I'm so fucking in love I can barely stand it."

Morgana laughed, pulling Emily closer. "You know what I thought when I first saw you? After I cast the curse?"

"What?"

"I thought you were going to be a monster. A beautiful, confident, cruel monster that would torment Sophie just by existing." Morgana pressed a kiss to Emily's forehead. "I never imagined you'd be so much more. That you'd be mine."

"I was always going to be yours," Emily said softly. "I just didn't know it yet."

They kissed, slow and deep, savouring each other.

"What about next year?" Emily asked when they finally broke apart. "Sophie's coming back as our slave. We're getting a bigger room. But what else?"

"Everything." Morgana's eyes glittered with ambition. "We take over the campus. We build our coven. We find more women like us—powerful, hungry, wicked. We create something the world has never seen."

"And boys?"

"Boys are toys." Morgana smirked. "Fun to play with. Satisfying in their way. But they'll never be what we are to each other."

"No," Emily agreed. "No one will ever be what you are to me."

They made love one more time—slow and tender and intimate, the way they only were with each other—while Sophie watched and touched herself and came silently to the sound of their whispered declarations of love.

---

When morning came, they packed their things and prepared to leave for the summer.

Sophie helped, of course. She carried their bags, folded their clothes, made sure everything was perfect. She would spend the summer at Morgana's family home—a sprawling estate with plenty of room for a live-in servant—continuing her training, deepening her submission.

At the door, Emily paused and looked back at the dorm room that had changed her life.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything."

Sophie thought she was talking to her. But Morgana knew better.

Emily was thanking the universe. Thanking fate. Thanking whatever cosmic force had brought them all together.

Morgana took her hand. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They walked out together, their slave trailing behind them, and stepped into a future full of dark promise.

---

The mark on Sophie's back pulsed with contentment.

The curse was complete. The revenge was perfect. And in the end, everyone had gotten exactly what they deserved.

Morgana had found love—real love, the kind that matched her darkness and met her hunger and made her feel complete for the first time in her life.

Emily had found power—and confidence, and beauty, and a purpose that went beyond being invisible.

And Sophie?

Sophie had found peace.

She was nothing now. Less than nothing. A pathetic little goonette who existed only to serve, to watch, to worship.

And she had never been wetter.

As she followed her Goddess and her Mistress into the sunlight, Sophie smiled.

This was her life now.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

THE END