The moment Thistle's ancient memory finally faded — the last echo of her regal command ringing through Ren's mind like a dying bell — the last threads of the Curse shattered.
Ren's eyes snapped open.
Glassy, cursed, but suddenly clear.
The world came rushing back in a violent flood: the violet lightning cracking overhead like the sky itself was splitting, the bone palace towering around the altar, the thousands of frozen mutated spirits staring up in rapt, trembling silence, and most of all — the monstrous, root-filled pussy of Queen Thistle clamped so tightly around his root-veined cock that every throbbing vein felt like it was being squeezed by living, hungry flesh.
His body had been controlled by the curse for what felt like eternity, but now the curse's grip had snapped.
And the pleasure… the raw, animalistic pleasure that had been locked inside him for so long finally broke free.
