The guard nods, and hurries into town. Wynn's escortee is finished her checks in short order; she gives an awkward wave to Wynn as she's led inside.

Before too long, a familiar figure exits the gates. He's visibly surprised to see Wynn, but doesn't make a scene as the guard brings him out front.

What.

She grabs the Tentacle Wand from where it's resting on her glowing sled and raises it.

-And lowers it, but doesn't quite let go.

"I'm not imagining it, am I? You tested me and then backed the fuck off when I wasn't helpless, last time I saw you."

Wynn's aggressive action draws quite a bit of attention, and several crossbows are quickly pointed at her.

The man, for his part, smiles without mirth, and doesn't bother to raise a defence. "The wilderness is full of feral beasts in need of taming. You've proven yourself better than them, so you've earned the right not to be treated like them. So far as I'm concerned, that's the end of it... unless you've come to test yourself against me?"

"I'm no beast, and I'm not going to be tamed. Nor am I going to start something for shits and giggles, no matter what I think of that. But perhaps there's a trade to be had here. I happen to be in want of a way to disable the collars you seem so fond of. Not to use against you here, but for something as far as I know - totally unrelated."

"Well, if you're willing to behave yourself, then that's the end of that."

He waves to the guards, who lower their crossbows, but continue watching.

"Now, I hear that the first thing you wanted was for me to check you for parasites." He smirks at Wynn as he looks her up and down, "Too modest to do that the normal way?"

"You are correct, on that front." She rolls her eyes.

"I can do so slowly and at a distance for five marks... or quickly and with a touch for one."

He leers at Wynn, and makes a squeezing gesture with his hand, "Which would you prefer?"

Gross. Keep your lip up. You're a powerhouse now, and this is just posing. Spraying tags.

"Seems kind of moot if I'm not going to enter the walls, doesn't it? I know I'm clean."

He shrugs artfully, "Fine. I'm not in the habit of discussing sensitive business out in the open... and anything related to the workings of my trade is definitely that... so if you don't plan to enter the walls, we have nothing further to discuss."

So saying, he turns to go.

Five silver coins land on the ground near him.

He turns, still smirking, and scoops the coins into a pocket before casting: "Volchirr Vinkenlo."

Blood vessels bulge around his eyes as he gazes at Wynn, looking her up and down, and staring intently at her erogenous regions. Wynn has the sense that to this sight, she's worse than naked.

That's rather what it implies, isn't it? A thorough enough check would be as detailed as an X-ray, and less clinical.

...Huh. He said 'em all out loud instead of doing the twisty-pulling-inside-you thing silently. Does he, perhaps, have to say them out loud? Is he not as good as her? Though she doesn't recognize 'vol'.

Maybe. Maybe maybe. She tries not to let this sudden realization show. It's not that hard, feeling this uncomfortable, thank you glitchy intuition...

Eventually, he finishes his examination. "She's clean," he says to the guards, before turning back to Wynn.

"Now, if you have further business with me, there's a lovely little tavern in town with discreet booths. Join me for a drink?"

He walks off arrogantly, clearly assuming that Wynn will hurry after him.

She will walk at a reasonable pace after him, after double checking that her floating bag is warded against theft and taking several deep breaths to push down the anger. 

Because, going Skitter here would probably just make everything worse, and she as much as offered truce. So. Yes. Calm. Stop instinctively drawing tendrils of mana through the magic node for fire and towards chirr.

And so he leads Wynn to his favorite tavern. Wynn can't help but notice that all the waitresses here are wearing heavy slave collars, alongside extremely skimpy outfits that reveal matching womb tattoos.

He doesn't even speak as he enters. He just snaps his fingers without breaking stride, and three waitresses hurry to obey his unspoken orders. One brings a bottle of wine and glasses, one begins assembling a platter of cheese and meat, and a third hurries behind him to the table in the corner booth, crawling underneath it as he sits.

A smooth lake. A gentle breeze. Piano music. Starting a fight would make everyone here's lives worse.

"-Are you fucking serious," she mutters at the table-ducking woman. A bit louder, "I thought you wanted us to have a private discussion if any business was to be had?"

He chuckles. "I've trained them well, and marked them to suit their tasks. None of these girls will hear a word they are not permitted to hear, nor speak a word they are not permitted to speak, nor remember a fact that I order them to forget. Between that and the wards I put on these booths, our conversation will be as private as possible."

He looks Wynn in the eye as a wet choking noise can be heard from beneath the table. "Does it bother you?"

Could she fight her way out of this place, if she suddenly lashed out?

Her intuition, her sixth sense, is not completely quiescent. But nor is it blaring alarms of DOOM into her head, like it did for some of the bigger things in the jungle when she first scouted it only to NOPE out. The biggest threat is right in front of her. Some of the other guards are concerning, but she's fast and has magic and could go stealthy. It'd be risky. But she has enough of a chance to buoy her confidence, here.

"...It seems, we cannot work together on this."

She turns around and leaves, paying very close attention to her danger sense as she marches back out the town gate.

-Well, actually. Actually. She walks around the place a bit first, since she went through that indignity to get in. Maybe there's something interesting in the market. She can see how her rescuee is doing too, perhaps.

The slaver chuckles as Wynn departs, not being especially invested in doing business with her either way, and having other distractions to entertain himself with. Considering her danger sense... he genuinely doesn't intend her harm at this point, and quite seriously will not be the one to act first. If it did come to a fight though, it'd be a very bad idea to leave him hostile, nearby, and undistracted. The guards similarly don't intend harm, but are less dangerous in general, except possibly in groups.

As for the market, it's nothing spectacular, mostly just a simple farmers' market to service the surrounding community. Almost everything here is either sold by or to a farmer; there's plenty of fresh and preserved food, simple craftwork like rope and candles, and a meager selection of basic hand tools being offered by a peddlar. The most interesting offering is the apothecary, which is where Wynn runs into her rescuee; she seems to have been having an argument with the stall owner. The shouting is all over by the time Wynn gets close enough to overhear, but neither of the two looks particularly happy with the other.

Well, she knows where to find her next time.

She makes camp in another earthen hut, not too far away but in a relatively isolated spot. One of the less thoroughly managed forests. She hides most of it underground, too.

...She feels really horny for some reason. They were totally ogling her earlier - it was gross, but honestly, was it really that bad? Kinda hot, even. To be wanted instead of ignored.

-She doesn't have a secret slavery fetish, does she? No, no, the idea is terrifying, disgusting, a massive turn off in her mind - that does nothing for how horny she is, though.

Those plants, with thick tentacled cocks... Wouldn't it be amazing to just let go, let herself be wrapped up and just fucked silly? For a while, at least. Until she's satisfied.

Maybe she could go find those gate guards from before. They were at least sort of respectable. They'd paw at her, pin her arms behind her back. Tear off her pants and grab her tail. Maybe they'd feed her aphrodisiacs, and there's a reason she had some of her own for Luna to get into. Personal use.

She doesn't want any of that to actually happen. But it's really hot to imagine.

...She makes a dildo out of rock, and carefully smoothes it down with Earth magic, and cleans it. Then, lying down on her little bedroll, starts rubbing it over her pussy, over and over, even as her other hand plays with her tits.

It's a burning need in her core, a warmth that only feels more excited when she returns to her fantasies. A wolf pinning her down and mounting her, filling her with that massive cock and with warm seed. A hot muscular futanari telling her to kneel and suck her cock. A cool playboy getting her drunk and caressing her all over until she shows him her pussy... God, she's a pervert. It's the isekai body or some sort of aphrodisiac, it has to be.

She's rubbing the dildo in and out of her cunt, now. Clenching and tensing and squeezing around it. Honestly, it needs to be bigger. It needs to fuck her on its own, like one of those piston-driven machines.

She sits up and bites her lip. She mounts the dildo to the compressed-dirt floor and spends a few minutes making it... Knobblier. Add some extra shapes. Ridges. Like something from Bad Dragon rather than a plain cylindrical shape, one of those that she's touched herself to but never dared to actually buy.

Yeah. This'll work. She kneels over her new monstrosity and s l o o w l y lowers herself onto it, working her way down. Every inch she impales herself makes her feel deliciously fuller, as she clenches around the oversized thing and feels the ridges rubbing against her cunt.

Trying to ... there's no other word, ride this monster cock is kind of difficult. She's never done this before, and the motion feels strange, even though her pussy stretches around it just fine, no chafing, no soreness. Just hot liquid warmth invading her so so deeply. Her hands clench on her knees as she moves her hips back and forth just enough to feel every bump and ridge, as she fantasizes and imagines it's a dragon, it's an aphrodisiac-dripping plant monster, it's an incubus who rings with power and temptation and- 

-She cums. It's the best orgasm she's had in a while. And she doesn't feel satisfied. After a few minutes' rest, she starts working the dildo again, only the first couple of inches this time, but thrusting her hips back and forth so it hits all the lovely spots in her cunt, like her fingers but firmer, better. It doesn't take long as she fondles her nipples and rubs lightly at her cunt as she rocks her hips back and forth, to come to a second orgasm.

After that, at least, she seems to be satisfied. For now. Though there's still a frustrating undercurrent, a horniness that refuses to go away and has her shifting in her sleep.

She dreams. A cloud forest, a place of cliffs and thunder and wild overgrowth and snarling sounds in the dark.

He's not going to change, and he's not going to stop. You could just kill him, you know. You're strong enough to have a very good chance. You would be removing a blight upon the world, an unnatural chain that chokes it.

No killing. That's her response, that filters up in the dream realm, though the filtered logic of unconsciousness. Wynn with no last name she wants to claim, is not a murderer. Maybe she'll end up one, like Skitter, but it's utter hubris to compare herself to the Queen of Escalation anyway. She's more blindly lashing out than Skitter's calculated aggression.