He watches her. Every day he comes into the room where the mage lays bloodless on the sheets. No one knows how it is the woman holds on. The healers all say that she should be dead. He listens to her labored breathing. Each breath a victory for the broken woman.
He watches the healers as they ply her with potions and herbs, he stops them from bleeding her, or trying to give her emetics. Even he can tell she has to little blood in her, to little fluid. When they are gone he gently lifts her head and feeds her broth, she never fully wakes up. Babbling in a multitude of tongues some he recognizes, others are so foreign to him he wonders where she learned them.
Day after day caring for her. He has recovered from their fight, but she hasn't yet. So he takes care of her, watches her. He told her that she would scream his name in ecstasy, and he means to keep that promise. She had defied him not once but TWICE. She dared to stand up to him. He has to conquer her, conquer her and make her HIS.
He carefully covers her up then sits to watch her. Knowing it will take time for her to awaken and he has it. He touches her mind then, and sends her deeper into sleep. The more she sleeps the faster she will heal. He wants her well, he wants to hear her cry out to him once more.
The mage moans in pain, her body hurting, she doesn't recognize where she is at all. The room is not hers, the bed is large, soft, like the one in Gold's room. Where is she, it can't be one of the guest rooms. She's slept in them a time or two, the beds are not this soft, this comfortable. She dimly remembers calling down a star-stone. Normally she knows that's a final strike for her.
"Yes, My dear?" That was NOT Gold's voice. The mage bolts upright, gasping in pain. Sitting in one corner, his face shadowed, leaning back in what was once Gold's favorite chair. His voice was like silk drawn over a blade, "Or did you mean your fellow collared girl?"
The weak and injured woman starts trembling in fear and pain, "I meant my Lady."
He rises and moves to the bed, green fire around his hand, now that she's awake he pours his power into her, deadening her pain, letting his hand caress both her neck and the leather and steel band around it. "Yet majesties do not wear the collars of a slave, do they, my dear?"
The woman, really not more than a girl trembles but answers, "No, though mages often do."
He smiles at her, "Ah. Have you ever worn one, girl?"
The mage looks away and says softly, "In my past lives, many times."
He lifts her chin and looks into her eyes, his smile making the mage tremble in terror, "Then now you may know mine. Offering far worse pain, or far more delirious pleasure, depending on what you do."
She shivers slightly at the word pleasure. She's been through hell and worse in her past lives, but pleasure, that is something she can't resist, could never resist, and HE is watching her. She can see him lick his lips. And she can hear a voice in her head, "Is she enjoying the sight as much as I?"
"Yes and No." she answer the voice to get it OUT
He arches on eyebrow, "Yes and no what, what?
"Yes and no on enjoying the sight."
He looks at her harder then, "Interesting. You can hear my thoughts woman."
"Sometimes, sometimes I can hear what others think, when I'm not shielded."
The demon nods then, and thinks about her. Knowing now about her link to his thoughts. Picturing her writhing under him in pleasure, moaning his name, crying out. Watching her lick delicate lips, her eyes helpless before him. His images grow more graphic, showing her being forced to ride him, taking whatever he wants to give her.
The mage curls up in a ball, moaning in pain as she tears her mind away and shields herself as best she can. But he can smell the difference in her scent, knowing he's gotten to her, at least a little. He stands slowly. "Such fear, for a healthy young woman, Why?"
The mage trembles, "You are the enemy. You should be dead."
"Not anymore, as I recall. I seem to recall during our first fight your surrendering to me."
The mage looks at him lost, nodding,. She doesn't want to speak to him.
"Then I'm not the enemy anymore, am I? I saved your life. I'm….Master, isn't it?" He walks to the foot of the bed, looking down and across at her.
Her eyes go wide in terror, "Yes Mmmmm. Yes Mmmaster."
He raises an eyebrow, seeing her terror now. Enjoying it, "I ALSO seem to recall you saying things such as you'd be willing to give your life rather than join me, submit to me…that you saw me as Filth, or perhaps the lowest of the low. Do you remember that?
She looks so innocent, like a fawn before the starving wolf. He felt his groin tighten, he moves around her like a great wolf, a starving lion, his body lithe and graceful. "What happened to that burning defiance?"
She looks away, now anger went through her, "I now have your collar around my throat. I am now nothing more than your property. No more than a beast."
He looks at her, "Ah. And that changes things? Just because you wear that?" He stares down at her, holding himself over top of her, on the bed.
She nods slowly, "I now have no right to do anything to you."
He arches an eyebrow. He doesn't always understand the laws of the lands he has claimed, or is that the law of this place. The woman's scent carries overtones of things other than human, and she claimed to be part demon and part angel. Could this relate to that? "And why does the collar intone that, Slave girl? Does not your freedom of will allow you to fight me, if you want to?"
"You know it doesn't, a slave who strikes a Master is killed. And I don't want to die. Not like this."
He moves back slowly, off the bed, his eyes locked on hers as he shifts to sit beside the weakened woman "Not with me they're not. They are…disciplined. Like you are about to be woman."
The mage makes a small sound, she's to weak to fight back and she knows it. Much to weak. She can feel her body flush as she watches him. Especially when he starts to remove his upper body armor The naked mage wraps her arms around her legs, trying to protect herself, but it only makes the demon lick his lips in anticipation.
He looks deep into her eyes as he stands and slowly removes his boots, letting her watch every muscle of his body. Showing off for her, wanting her to feel that helpless lust again. The demon has no qualms whatsoever about removing every last bit of his clothes before his helpless female prisoner, his new slave. He will savor this last step in claiming her. When he takes her, rapes her in her chains and collar.
He leaves his breechclout on for now, giving her a little respite and lets her admire his body, turning slowly for her, feeling her lust, smelling it, and her fear and shame as well. She is weak, helpless. She doesn't even have the strength to keep him out of her mind, and he means to keep her that way. Break her daily, over and over until he knows for sure her submission is real.
He watches her eyes as he forces his thoughts into her head. Her defense are weak, merest gossamer, not near enough to keep him out, and he can tell it drains her to keep them up, (Your duty and honor will soon be a possession….) and he pauses from his mental domination of her to savor her helplessness for just a moment, (of mine. Around the same time….You will join them in that capacity.")
The girl before him shivers, he finds himself wondering how old she is. She seems so….inexperienced. So…..innocent. it calls to him like nothing else, and he slips out of his breechclout, stripping himself naked before her. Pausing a moment to let her look at him, his size, his hardness, the animal lust in his eyes. He stalks her like a wildcat, like the ravening wolf. Moving around the bed, watching her back up to the headboard unable to move any further way than that and the center of the bed.
He moves slowly onto the bed and between her drawn up thighs, locking the naked woman in place, preventing escape, waves of fear and helplessness, heady like wine, but they drown out what he REALLY wants to feel. What drew him in that first fight. The desire is drowning and that will not do.
"Please." Her voice is trembling, shaking in terror. He touches her mind again, trying to still the fear. He wants that innocent desire back in her mind.
"Please what, woman?"
He continues to gaze at her calmly, his mouth now mere inches from hers. He can almost lick her lips, "Not what?"
"Don't take me like this." The mage looks down, breaking eye contact, but not the contact of his mind on hers, though he's careful now, not to send anything she'll pick up. He just works on quieting the fear enough for that delicious desire to get through.
He tilts his head to one side, "And why not?" He honestly finds that he wants to know. In the many thousands of years since he was released from hell, the demon has never felt this emotion. He isn't sure he wants to either, yet it makes him feel……good, like blood on his hands only better, because he knows he can have it any time he wants it. He just has to convince her to submit to him.
She looks at him again, and even as she speaks the words they both know it's a half-lie she speaks, "I don't want you."
He fakes hurt in his voice, "You don't want me to take you like this, or you don't want me personally?
She is frantic, "BOTH! NEITHER! Oh GODS." And he can see the pain and confusing in her eyes and he moves back just a little, giving her some room. And he lets his mind caress hers, showing her a little of the promise of obedience.
The results is unexpected to say the least when suddenly the mage's defenses shatter for a moment and she kisses HIM. The demon freezes for only a second, staring into her eyes, her very soul, then kisses her back fiercely, drawing on what little power he dares to pull from her badly weakened body, sipping her like fine wine.
His thoughts invade her mind, thoughts of his pleasing….of HAVING her, of RULING her. Letting his pleasure in the taking soak back into her, to influence her as it will, one way or the other. He can hear her soft moans, moans of shame and pleasure. His tongue explores her mouth, tasting her physically even as he tastes her power.
She tries to shove him away, turns her head, "NO, I can't be doing this."
His reply is a low chuckle, then he starts kissing her neck, nibbling on it, slowly taking his time, he feels her squirm under him, hears her breathy pleading "No" and he ignores it, kissing down her collarbone, then across it, taking his time savoring the flesh, finally reaching his goal
He can feel her readiness and softly asks "Who's are you now, Woman?"
Her voice is soft, breathless, he can hear need and desire in her voice, "Yours Master."
He can detect the uncertainty in her voice, but she can say the words. That is all he needs for now, and he asks her the second question, "And for how long?"
"For as long as you can hold me."
He nods. If she thinks she can escape him she will soon learn otherwise. He can see now what her hope is, to escape him, to get away, he will have to strip her of those one by one, but to her he only says, "Permanently, then, slave girl."
He plays her body like a fine instrument, watching her writhe and squirm, feeling his own pleasure build.
"OH GODS!" she cries out in pleasure so intense it's nearly pain. He pulls back slowly, His fingers moves to brush her tortured body, admiring her
"Your going to cry out more than that when I'm done with you this time, slave woman." And he takes her then, filling her cruely.
He invades her mind again, pushing at it, forcing her to drop her defenses against him, his words a gentle song, "Plead for…what you truly…DESIRE…Woman…."
Her body arches and no, under his influence comes the words he desires to hear, "OH GODS! Take me!"
Those words galvanizes him. And he takes her hard and fast, she screams then, "MASTER! OH GODS YES."
"What am I slave?"
"Say it again"
He drives himself into her making her cry out wordlessly in pleasure. "What will you do for me?"
He can feel her resisting him then and he drives harder into her. Pushing her, "What will you do for me?"
With a cry of despair and pure pleasure she calls back, "Whatever Master desires!"
"And how long will Master rule you?"
With a sob of agony and ecstasy she cries out, "As long as you can hold me!"
He smiles at that small defiance, "Good girl!" he can feel his pleasure flood him. Now he wants to break her more.
"Say you're my bitch, slave…."
He had forced Gold to say that he wants to hear it from the magess herself. Needs to hear it from her. But her voice is a thin whisper, filled with pain and shame and hate, "I am your bitch, master."
He snarls then, filled with power, with the desire to rule, wanting to link both his prizes, his slave girls that way. Highborn and low. "Say it again"
She speaks bitterly, her anger stronger as is her pleasure, "I am your bitch," and she spits out the last word, "Master"
He feels himself explode in pleasure, "SAY IT LOUDER, SLAVE!" when she doesn't answer he glares at her growling, "SAY IT!"
The mage cries out in despair, "I AM YOUR BITCH MASTER!"
He smiles as the last of his seed fills her. Then he licks her lips staring into those shame filled eyes. "Welcome to your new life, dear girl. Welcome to being my sex slave." And he moves down again, kissing her deeply, again drawing on her power, then pulling back again. Feeling himself already growing hard AGAIN.
He doesn't consider her, he just uses her again.
"Submit to me, Woman…"
She shivers wanting this to stop, "I am yours."
He thrusts harder, feeling her hit the pillows that cushion her from the headboard again and again. "Say who owns you."
"You own me Master."
He shivers in pleasure then, causing her to buck and cry out in orgasm yet again, "For how long, slave woman?"
She is weeping then. "Until I die, until the day I die."
He feels himself loosing it, "…good" this is to much pleasure, "…girl." He holds her there, saving her every last touch, her emotions, her carnal lust, her shame.
The mage wants to pull away, to crawl into a ball and sob like a child. Now that the high is going down, she feels shame, her soul wounded and bleeding. He touches her cheek, drying the one tear that escapes, he leans down and kisses her, claiming all her power.
"Welcome to your new life, sex slave." His voice was a purr and he returns to kissing her, tasting her power, her spirit, licking at the edges of her very soul, he decides not to feast on her soul, not yet. That will be a delicacy he will indulge when she's completely broken.
He gazes into her eyes, he can tell her body is drained, sated and exhausted. He touches her face, and says with surprising softness for one who had snapped commands that she was required to obey instantly, who didn't care if he hurt her or not, "Think of night after night, slave girl?
"Oh gods, I don't think I'd have a will left."
He smiles, "No…you won't. You'll be completely mine…and existing only to please your Master." And he wraps his arms around the woman, holding her gently, letting her cry NOW that she knows her fate.
"I'll be a slave for however long I live, won't I, the least of your 'treasures'"
He brushes a tear from her face, "no…one of the two most valuable. You and your former queen."
She was weeping like a child, and he stroked her hair, he could tell she didn't believe him yet. He lets her shelter in his arms until exhaustion claims her. Smiling in triumph, he had made her do exactly what he promised scream in pleasure under him.