I wake up to a bucket of water being thrown over my sleeping and vertical, naked body. I gasp awake in the centre of a red velvet tent, the candles lighting everything around me with a demonic glow.
I look up to see chains wrapped around my wrists, holding my feet inches from the ground and attached to a hook at the top of the tent’s main support pillar.
Before me, I see Andoll dressed in soldier’s garb, too big for her small bones. She drops the bucket, breathing heavily. She glares up into my soul and spits at my feet.
I hiss between my teeth; the disrespect from my own Venatores was unfathomable.
“You left me with the oh so kindred males of our kind… my patience is all but gone,” her snarl suddenly stops and a kind voice pipes through, “But I am happy now that you have returned, Draconess!” Andoll jumps forward and wraps her arms around my wet neck, squeezing me tight. We both hang from the air for a moment while she chooses to also hiss in my ear, “Do not leave me with them again!”
“Andoll, what are you doing with that bucket–?” Lixar lifts up the tent to see what’s going on, “…don’t talk to the prisoner now… what did I say, odd creature of the night?” Lixar pulls in a hand maiden who’s cowering behind him submissively while smiling in the shadows.
Lixar avoids making eye contact with me. He’s angry too, then. And clearly trying to make me jealous of a young maiden on his arm.
Andoll pounces off from me, turning in slow motion. Andoll sees Lixar raising a mocking brow at her and the shy hand maiden smirking when she witnesses Andoll’s instant glare.
“Cursed bitch. I feast on the smiles of virgin demon wenches!” Andoll snarls, bowing down to the dirt, she touches her forehead to the soil… summersaults forward… and black webs of magic shoot out all around us.
My vision is blocked by the horse sized Split Soul Dragons that Andoll harbours in her soul, harnessing them now. Lixar growls uselessly as Andoll swoops out of the tent. She uses her Split Soul Dragons to sweep away the girl from Lix. The hand maiden is screaming in between the jaws of both ravenous heads.
Lixar remains standing, alone, his hand empty of the maiden.
He pouts and whines as if to the shadows behind me, “That was my dinner!” he turns to me and finally looks me over, acknowledging my existence, “A shame I can’t eat up my own Queen for supper… oh, well…” Lixar turns to leave, leaving me hanging, literally.
“Release me at once, Mystifyer!” I call out.
Lixar keeps walking, clearly drunk with the way he wobbles.
I jerk at the chains and I end up swinging slowly around.
Now I see the other end of the tent. A makeshift bed with red covers. And someone else accompanies me.
A half-naked Warlord sprawled across his bed as he plucks black feathers from two dead swans sitting on his lap.
“Hey!” I hiss and he glances up at me, only to focus back on the swans he’s picking feathers from, “What are those innocent birds doing on your bed? Why do I hang chained? ”
“There is a time for being a demon hunter… and a time for being the infamous sorcerer that I am known to be…” Zarcar murmurs to himself, “Did you dream well?”
“I do not remember my dreams after that bucket of water,” I swing before the bastard, while he patiently picks at those feathers, “We had fun in the forest, now let me go. An imprisoned Draconess who has no will to submit is useless, as you well know. Rey will only want to kill me for being rebellious. Unless… of course… now you don’t care… since you never loved me in the first place…”
“I never said I loved you,” Zarcar is cold, but then he adds, “I suspected you overheard our conversation, now a moon past,” Zarcar throws the carcasses aside and leans forward to bring up a copper bowl. He lays each feather inside, one by one. He eventually looks up to see my curious eyes, wishing for him to continue, “If you believed the derogatory way Lixar and I spoke of you. You deserve to be hanging here.”
“As a Moon Priestess, I know truth when I hear it and what you said was truth –”
“And I know how to make a lie sound like absolute reality as I’ve lived decades longer than you, foolish witch,” Zarcar shakes his head, murmuring over the pot, “Burn to Ash of Eden.”
The pot alights with fire, lighting Zarcar’s locks of brown hair that hang perfectly, framing his handsome jaw, and his black eyes flicker with the flame.
“Oh, so now Torrent taught you a special trick only a few on this realm know how to master? Ash of Eden?” I ask, ignoring his explanation about lying to Rey and Torrent when it hit all the right nerves.
I wanted to believe him.
But I would be a fool to trust Zarcar, as I fell for him, back when we met in the Moon Tower. A young, foolish girl – I had been. I had been smitten by his handsome looks, his firm way, even if he was a dangerous enemy at the beginning; spanking me in public. Yet for the most part I had been sweet, subservient, open to his lust and only sometimes naughty, simply to tempt him.
Yet here I was now, in chains, by this man I had chosen as a mate.
“Not exactly the real Ash of Eden, this hold spell is only temporary, but still powerful,” Zarcar stands off his bed, stands before me and picks up a handful of ash, “The black swans were shapeshifting demons. Wicked fae. To kill them in another form catches more magic in their flesh. The feathers especially; mimicking the wings of Lucifer, their Master. This hold spell will calm you down, until you learn to listen once more,” I close my eyes as Zarcar throws the oppressive ash into my face. It enters my nose and my mouth as I gasp it in.
I cough harshly, my voice going rough… rasp…. and eventually…
… I’m mute.
“Speak?” Zarcar raises his hands and uses his thumbs to rub the ash off my eyes. He blows any excess off for me, rather gently. I open my mouth and no sound comes out.
My Warlord stands back as my eyes, now clear, blink rapidly. My nostrils flare and my legs kick out furiously.
“Ah, ah,” Zarcar scolds me, smirking a bit as he grabs one ankle and then the other while I’m flailing, “…you can’t talk, use magic, or shift, Chyronex…” he spreads my legs, looking between them boldly, “But you can fuck.”
My captor looks up and catches my gaze, he jerks me forward without mercy and the chains creak as he pulls me right onto his hips. One spell under his breath unbuttons his breeches.
I try to growl and even that is impossible.
Zarcar has easily freed his hardened and lengthy cock so that it lies against me, warming my exposed pussy. Grasping my hips tightly with nails he should also cut, he moves his body in, right against my front, now flush with mine. As Zar looks down into my enraged face, the remainder of the hold spell soaks into my body through my skin, and into my soul, “Are you ready to pay the price for running from your position in the army… a prisoner of war… a trophy… and my slave... did you really think that I’d let you off that easy, sweetheart?” Zar asks politely, each word at the end is a promise. His demonic need to punish me was imminent.
I can’t reply, but I raise an eyebrow. As my Warlord leans his mouth closer to mine, I reach out and grasp his bottom lip with my teeth. I threaten him with a soft bite and he promptly forces his cock into my pussy in response.
It didn’t mean I’d submit any faster.
Quite the opposite.
If I was in for punishment and pain? So was he. I rip down into his lip as Zarcar stretches me, pulling back and spitting his saliva mixed with blood, down onto his shaft.
He thrusts out and back into me, keeping a cool expression.
“You’ll cry by the time I’m done with you, darling,” Zarcar leans into lick my neck before he bites my shoulder, thrusting roughly into me.
My hips move and my body shakes with warmth as we fuck.
I wanted it. Even though I wanted to fight and fuck at the same time.
I squeeze down on him and he thrusts faster, the chains clinking and creaking from above.
I lean my head down and I use my mouth to pick up his hair, wrenching my head back and pulling out some of his strands. Zarcar snarls as he leans up, his nose now against my cheek as he glares into my eyes.
It was as if he was his Mystifying form.
Snarling, spitting rage.
I smile into his lips. I could take this. I wouldn’t break.
Zarcar stops thrusting into me, not liking that smirk of mine.
“Now you’re in trouble, coy witch,” my Warlord whispers the menacing fact, dropping to his knees, he grabs my thighs, manoeuvres them apart… and then shoves his head between my legs. Zar’s tongue is already tasting all of me, sucking on me and massaging everything.
I try to ignore how nice it fucking feels, but he’s relentless on my clit. His nails dig into my ass cheeks as he kneads into them, scratching them so deep my skin peels and bleeds.
I can’t even cry out, but my body rocks and spasms around his head with the added pain, my thighs holding him as close as possible, voluntarily.
Zarcar pauses to take in slow licks of my juices after my first orgasm, swallowing them all down, greedy for all of it.
I expect my Warlord to move soon, to get up and finish fucking me with his needy demon cock; to empty his balls and get some relief.
But Zarcar stays on his knees, he holds me still and he uses my silence to his advantage.
He’s too in love with my taste.
The demon in Zarcar can’t get enough of my pussy cream.
He doesn’t care about his need to cum while my punishment through forced pleasure is his first priority. So, Zar stays down there, he licks, massages and he tastes.
Until the sun rises, my Warlord shows me he missed me in the only way he knows how. Being a demonic, greedy, dominant Master; chaining up his willing dessert and eating it too.