At the dragon stables, an entire team of inquisitors is gathered in Yui's paddock.

They have a large iron cage, and are trying without much success to coax Yui down out of its nest.

One pair of men try a more aggressive approach, one with a spear while the other wields a lasso on the end of a stick, but the Guardian Doll with the blue wig gets in their way again. "Damn it all! Would someone please find whoever has the command codes for this thing?!"

Sabra strides into the paddock, glaring one of the lower-ranking inquisitors out of her way when he tries to intercept her.

"That would be me."

A couple of the inquisitors glare at her for having the audacity to ignore them, but a few quick hisses of, "Shut up, that's the Veterinarian-General!" from those who recognize her deals with that.

With Sabra's help, coaxing Yui into the cage becomes far more possible. The dragon knows this woman, and is willing to listen when she beckons. Yui lets out a mournful warble as they lock the cage door behind it, settling down with its head on its front claws.

One inquisitor climbs up into the nest to bag the alchemy-track Collegium uniform as evidence.

They transport the cage to the Inquisitorium's roof by portal.

A telepath comes to commune with the dragon. The shock on his face is quickly suppressed, but no one insists he look a second time after he explains the glimpse he got, of the missing young woman pinned beneath the dragon, impaled on its cock.

The tone of the entire case shifts, after that.

"I'm telling you, there are no human remains in this dragon's stomach."

Sabra has been repeating this same finding for nearly three hours, and despite her outward composure, she is on the brink of losing her cool. The inquisitors are barely tolerating her presence to begin with, and its clear they think she's trying to cover up Alard's alleged crime.

So they bring in a second opinion. That opinion is a shrug and an "inconclusive". After all, Sabra is the only master-level fleshcrafter specialized in dragon anatomy. They ask her to check again herself. She finds the same thing she did last time.

     "But we know the dragon fucked the victim," someone protests.

     "If the dragon didn't eat her, where's the body?" someone else demands.

And the whole thing starts over again.

"I'm going home," Sabra says, and throws herself off the rooftop before anyone thinks to stop her.

She casts as she falls, weaving Protect magic around her legs and spine, and hits the street below without even a twinge of pain. Scowling, she turns and stalks back toward the Temple of Light.

Sabra lives in a refurbished Elven loft above her private laboratory on the northern outer wall of the Temple of Light, overlooking the canal that use to be the Temple's moat, before it was overrun by bridges and other construction to the point that it stopped serving as a defensive feature long ago.

The north and west walls are floor-to-ceiling glass, with the enchantment that makes it look like stone from the outside. It has all the amenities, and is partitioned into a lounge, a bedroom, an office, and a gallery of scientific curiosities. One such curiosity is a prototype mechanical music player, which Sabra uses often, setting the soft tones of a familiar song free to fill the loft.

She heads into the lounge, stripping off her outer clothing as she goes, before waking the Guardian Doll in the corner and ordering it to make her a sandwich.

Veterinarian-General Sabra Parton, as a master-level spellcaster, is likely to be adept at sensing magical entities. Aire qualifies. However, she would need to actively use that capability, directly search Aire out, and is rather unlikely to feel the need to do so in her own home. And even if Aire is discovered, this body's death would only help sell the presence of Red Queen agents in the city, and they can move on to targeting a highly ranked member of the Inquisitors from there, non-ideal though that would be.

And so Aire is hiding under the first few layers of clothing in Sabra's laundry hamper, flattened out to nearly as thin as those pieces of laundry are. Odd as the situation is, this ended up being the best place for her to hide, hidden from view but well-positioned to spring quickly into action, and quite close to Sabra's bed.

The only true risk is that the Veterinarian-General will manage to capture Aire, but it is unlikely she will be able to. Aire may not be skilled enough to do too much without the use of incantations, but she can activate her Chirr rune to bleed this body dry of Mana and kill it. There would not, in fact, be any evidence of import from her body alone; even if you had a more standard skinsuit to compare her with, Aire's alterations all push in the direction of being better at doing precisely what it is that a true Red Queen agent would be here to do. It would only be further evidence in favor of the conclusion they want the Lord-Commander to come to.

But, now is not the right time to strike. She'll wait until Sabra is asleep.

Sabra finishes eating, puts on a new set of clothes, dumps the previous set on top of Aire, then leaves.

A few hours later she returns, exuding frustration.

She strips, and decides to take a bath. The bathroom is opposite the gallery, concealed in a chamber beside the bedroom. A stone basin forms a perfect circle in the floor, about ten feet across, carved of smooth marble. It fills with hot water from nowhere, conjured by an Etched elemental enchantment. A decadent level of luxury, orders of magnitude more expensive than a Cleanliness mutation, which Sabra also has.

She sinks into the water, reclining against the rounded lip of the pool. She slides a hand between her legs and starts stroking her pussy, groaning a soft, "Ngh, sir... damn you..."

Ooh, rather differently estranged than she thought, then. Perhaps she should change her pitch?

Aire finds herself suddenly tempted to use her pheromones and lust aura to drive Sabra to masturbate herself to distraction in the bath and then take her here and now. The plan had been to go after her while she was sleeping in her bed, but that runs the risk of the quiet leading Aire to wake Sabra before she can reach her. If Sabra's making enough noise in that bath, perhaps now would be better?

They have a fallback plan such that it doesn't matter too much if she fails here. That's still no reason to flirt with failure just to satisfy her lusts. She can control herself. She'll go with the option that seems more likely to succeed, here, and absent surprising information that's waiting until Sabra's asleep.

Is the Guardian Doll active at the moment? What time of day does she feel like it is, Aire's internal clock should be well-calibrated enough to be mostly right about that.

It's less than an hour after sunset, and the Guardian Doll is waiting in the corner of the lounge with its eyes closed.

Sabra brings herself to a single orgasm, sighs, sinks into the water for a while, then gets out, empties the circular pool and then dries off by lighting herself on fire for a few seconds.

For the next hour or two, she just lounges around in the nude, seeming lost in thought, before eventually heading into the bedroom to sleep. She gets under the covers, turns onto her side, and closes her eyes.

Well, given the whole lighting herself on fire thing Aire's now rather glad she decided to wait. She's not even sort of immune to that.

She waits as Sabra's breathing slows down until it's soft and even. And then she waits another half-hour after that.

Then she begins releasing her pheromones, slowly filling the room with enough of them that a weak-willed person would collapse into a masturbatory frenzy as soon as they entered the room. While she does, she moves slowly towards the bed, an unfurled mass of tentacle-flesh held above the floor and slowly propelled by tentacles, prepared to strike if Sabra seems close to waking.

Being asleep, Sabra's dreams take a rather predictable turn and she moans softly as her hips start moving under the sheets.

"Vergil... you bastard... more..."

Very fixated on the Lord-Commander, by the looks of things. Perhaps she'll tailor the "Red Queen agent's seduction" to include irresistibility to men?

She slips slowly up the bed, and slowly slides over Sabra, lifting the blankets slightly and maneuvering so that she slowly, gently, comes back down in their place. She can slip around Sabra's form at a moment's notice and imprison her within her flesh. But if she moves slowly, perhaps she can do that without waking her up in the process.

Her reaction to feeling the touch of flesh is not to wake up, but to moan louder as her dream gets more vivid.

It's a really good dream. She's going to actively fight against being pulled out of it.

Perfect.

She'll slide in, slow and gentle, until Sabra is completely encased in her flesh. 

At this point, she can't move unless Aire lets her. 

Her erotic dream is even more vivid now, and she's still trying to squirm, but the encasement just means she's getting more stimulation than she was before as her hips meet resistance.

Her breathing is slow but ragged, and an orgasm is building within her.

Aire waits for Sabra to orgasm, that seems the best time to strike.

She positions tentacles at each of her entrances, ready to spear in, with another ready to wrap around her cock when she lets it out. And she readies herself to let her lust aura loose just as Sabra orgasms.

The orgasm wakes her up.

And for an instant she's just confused, at the strange sensations her body is immersed in, but her quaking pussy aches with emptiness and just before her mind can gather itself suddenly she's stuffed full of thrusting cock and it's too much to resist when she's already aching for it so bad. Her senses white-out in ecstasy.

As she cums, her sense of her body fades out and in again, and then she's pressed against sheets at the same time as flesh in some odd superposition of sensation.

And she's not just stuffed with thrusting cock. She's held and squeezed and pleasured by a dozen tentacles. Another thrusts itself up her ass, suddenly feeling as pleasurable as her pussy. And then there's a new form of pleasure as some odd discomfort she's feeling vanishes, and then something is projecting from her mons that she's never felt before, bringing with it a sudden desire to penetrate, one immediately satisfied by a warm, slick tunnel of flesh wrapping around her new cock and wringing a spurting orgasm from her.

Between her arousal seal, her pheromones, the sensitivity and insatiability of Aire's body, and the stimulation that Aire can bring to bear with a dozen tentacles to put to the task, she can keep Sabra orgasming for a while.

As she does, she can seductively whisper into her mind that all she needs to do to keep feeling this good is obey. 

The part of her that would question this never quite manages to boot up as she cums and cums and cums and clings to the half-conscious state of dream-orgasm despite feeling this at thoroughly awake intensities and...

...for hours and hours...

...she can wash away in the pleasure...

...but if there's enough room in her head to listen to the whispers, there's enough room in her head to orient.

Adrenaline surges through Sabra's body, crashing against orgasm to catapult her back to full lucidity... long enough to string half a thought together before the orgasm crashes back... but then there's another moment of lucidity, and the other half of that thought. Something is happening that shouldn't be, something is here where it shouldn't be. She is under attack.

Sabra fumbles her mana, crashing through another orgasm before she can shove power into [Mind]. She's no telepath, but she is a powerful Mind mage, and in this situation subtlety is the last thing she needs. Her magic spikes into Aire's mental shields like a bullet into flesh.

It might be theoretically possible to have mental shields stronger than Aire's. Maybe.

But probably not.

A bullet into flesh it may be. But in this case, the flesh is six feet thick and self-repairing.

Sabra's attack is going to get through anyway. Just a bit. But it's weakened by Aire's shields, as it drills through them.

Weakened enough that it won't be able to pierce through the surface thoughts of Aire's mind.

She can use this. She spends a moment to build the persona of a relatively powerful but still inexperienced agent of the Red Queen, almost but not quite in over their head. The type who would have strong enough shields to maybe keep out the Veterinarian-General, while still possessing a poorly-disciplined enough mind to leak thoughts over telepathy. And then, just as Sabra breaks through, she inhabits it.

The Veterinarian-General won't get through, her shields were stress-tested by the Red Queen herself and pronounced "adequate"! No, no, it's still coming, why hasn't it stopped yet, she needs to keep her shields up, she doesn't have her yet, she can't risk things (a flash of Christa underneath a dragon, then later a uniform held in her hand while she carefully walks forwards, leaving no trace of her presence) getting out when their backup plan for taking advantage of it would be spoiled by that knowledge. 

And then she realizes the Veterinarian-General is already through.

Wouldn't you rather just cum some more? Wouldn't that be so much better than fighting? If you do what I want (what the Red Queen wants) you can cum as much as you want! Doesn't that sound nice?

!!!!!!!!

Red Queen?!

No! Hold on, she needs to know-

Sabra releases her hold on her mana all at once, the strain of struggling against this creature's mental shields sucking her soul dry in seconds. Weakness surges through her. She still has some mana left, but its barely dregs, she... is cumming again! She can't stop it!

Even after Sabra's no longer pushing through her shields, she can still whisper to her through telepathic tentacles inserted into her ears.

See, isn't this so much nicer than fighting? Getting fucked so full, spurting out cum? You don't need all those other thoughts. Just cum them all out, and you can feel this forever.

But she doesn't want to feel this forever. Right now she kind of does.

But then she can't complete her work. Right now she doesn't care.

But then she can't fuck the Lord-Commander. It would be amazing if he could make her feel like this. No it wouldn't actually, it would make everything worse, but gods is it hot to imagine.

Under. Attack. Sabra forces the thought into place, pushing back against the torrent of orgasm.

But... actions... she should take some kind of action... she struggles to move, but her body won't obey her... but it would feel so much better not to fight-  No!!!

The torrent of orgasm whites out her senses again as the built-up pressure overwhelms her willpower.

She knows, from Christa, what it looks like when an inexperienced telepath leaks thoughts. She can imitate that, and watch Sabra's mind for signs that it's working.

She can just give in for a little, right? Just have a few more orgasms and then start fighting.

(Getting this one's extra important now, got to make sure she doesn't remember anything inconvenient about the situation around the boy)

Underneath all that pleasure and distraction, Sabra might notice that her mana is replenishing shockingly quickly.

Sabra has noticed but is not processing her refilling mana since she's still stuck on the take-an-action step of mental response, here, but also she is not cumming nearly hard enough to believe this thing is speaking into her mind by accident. How stupid does it think she is?

Gods does having a few more orgasms before she keeps fighting sound good, though.

Sabra isn't the kind of person who does things just because they sound good. It's not like she won't be having those orgasms anyway, so she doesn't really stand to gain anything by obeying.