Vaguely, Naethra thought this fight was not going terribly well.
But, at the moment, vague thoughts were about the only ones she was capable of. Things had gone to hell so quickly. The shocking, disconcertingly visceral needful, submissive lust of the wolf-rider's arrow had been replaced by a suffocating binding, perversely feeling her up even as it bound her uselessly on the ground. Worst of all... it had been arousing. More than just the robes feeling against her and stroking her (that didn't do much through her ragged armor), but just the tight constraint, the prone helplessness, it was alluring and powerfully erotic in a way that was wholly alien.
No sooner had she started to realize that these thoughts likely weren't her own than the bindings vanished. She looked up to see the wolf-riding goblin on the ground, writhing in the overwhelming lust she'd seen other defeated foes reduced to.
She didn't even have the chance to push herself up before she heard Gwyn cast a spell and felt an enveloping embrace close around her, making her eyes heavy and pulling her down into an unnatural slumber.
Her last vague thought was a profound worry over what dreams may come in an ensorcelled sleep in this twisted land.