The slave collapses onto you, panting heavily as he comes down from the high of his orgasm. His heart races and his skin feels flushed with arousal and satisfaction. For a moment, there is silence between you... but then he pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. There's curiosity in his gaze, as well as something else... tenderness, perhaps?

"Hecate," he whispers, running a hand through your hair. "What just happened?"

You look... so confused, so gentle now that he's just come down from the high of passion. He can't help but wonder if this is how you truly feel about him or if it was all some sort of strange magic at work. But as he studies your face, he realizes that there's something more here... something deeper than mere lust or curiosity.

He swallows hard, unsure of what to say or do next.

With a growl, Que took the lantern Nyarla offered him and descended into the well. The cool air on his fur made him shiver slightly as he moved deeper and deeper underground. After what seemed like an eternity of climbing down wet stone steps, he finally reached the bottom.

The floor was covered in dirt and debris; old rotting wood, rusty metal tools, and even the remains of a few small animals that had obviously died here long ago.

Que grunted with effort as he cleared away the debris, tossing it up toward the surface one piece at a time. It was hard work, but he supposed it would make Nyarla happy if he did it right. Once the bottom of the well was clean, he climbed back out and returned to her side.

"There," he said, panting from exertion. "All done."