18. Meetha

18

MEETHA

M ilkor's silver eyes blaze with fury as he glares at me. His pale skin flushes with anger, making him look almost alive. I can't help but smirk.

"You," he snarls, teeth bared.

I twirl the ring on my finger, feeling its power pulse through me. "Me," I agree.

He lunges forward, but I hold up a hand. The air around him shimmers, and he freezes mid-motion.

"Now, now. Is that any way to treat your new mistress?"

A growl rumbles in his chest. "Release me."

I tsk. "I don't think so. You're far too valuable to let go."

His muscles strain against my magic, but it's no use. I step closer, trailing a finger along his jaw. His skin is smooth, almost too perfect. Nothing like the rough, scarred texture I imagine his true form possesses.

"You know, for a dark elf, you're not quite right," I muse. "Too pretty. Too polished."

"What do you want from me?" he grits out.

I circle him slowly, admiring the taut lines of his body. "Oh, I want many things. But mostly? I want to see you as you truly are."

His eyes widen fractionally. "You can't mean-"

"I do," I purr. "I want to see the demon beneath this... pretty wrapping."

I cock my head, studying Milkor's tense form. His rage is palpable, crackling in the air between us. But beneath it, I sense something else. Anticipation? Longing?

"Come now, Milkor. Isn't this what you wanted all along?" My voice drips with honey-sweet venom. "To shed this elven skin and return to your true form?"

His jaw clenches. "Not like this. Not as your... pet."

I laugh, the sound light and airy. "Oh, darling. You were always going to be someone's pet. At least with me, you get what you desire most."

I trace a finger down Milkor's chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath my touch. "Before we begin, there's one small matter to attend to."

His eyes narrow. "What?"

"A binding," I purr. "To ensure you don't... misbehave once you're back to your true self."

Milkor tenses, but doesn't resist as I begin the incantation. Ancient words flow from my lips, weaving an unbreakable bond between us. The ring on my finger pulses with power, sealing the spell.

"There," I breathe. "Now you're mine in every way that matters."

His nostrils flare. "Get on with it."

I smirk, savoring his impatience. With a flick of my wrist, I release the curse that's held him captive for so long. The air around Milkor shimmers and warps.

His body contorts, bones cracking and reforming. Pale skin darkens to a deep obsidian, rough and scaled. Horns sprout from his forehead, curling back over a mane of inky black hair. His face elongates, features sharpening into something both terrifying and beautiful.

As Milkor's form settles into its demonic glory, I find myself breathless. The air around us crackles with raw power, and the scent of brimstone fills my nostrils.

I circle him slowly, drinking in every detail of his new form. The rough texture of his obsidian scales, the curve of his horns, the burning intensity of his crimson eyes - each aspect is both terrifying and intoxicating.

My fingers itch to touch him, to explore this new terrain of his body. The ring on my finger pulses in sync with my racing heart, reminding me of the control I now wield over this magnificent creature.

"You're magnificent," I breathe, allowing myself a moment of genuine admiration.

I approach him, my movements slow and deliberate. My fingers trace the hard lines of his chest, the rough texture of his scales sending shivers down my spine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the cool, polished surface of his elven disguise.

"Let's see how much of a demon you truly are," I murmur, my voice laced with anticipation.

In a swift, practiced motion, I rip his clothes off, baring him completely. He groans, a mix of protest and desire, as I take in his muscular form, fully exposed. With the same urgency, I discard my own clothes, casting them aside to pool at my feet. Though his burning gaze sears my skin, I stand unyielding, asserting my dominance. This is my domain.

Binding him to a chair, I straddle his lap. His member, already hard and straining, brushes against my inner thigh. A jolt of pleasure courses through me, and I can't help but smirk. Even in his restrained state, he's eager.

My breath hitches as I grab Milkor by his hard, smooth horns. His crimson eyes, once full of defiance and rage, now simmer with a different kind of fire. I pull him closer, my intentions clear. He resists for a moment, a low growl vibrating in his throat, but the magic of the ring ensures his compliance.

"Suckle," I command, my voice a sultry whisper. His lips part, and I guide one of my nipples to his mouth. The sensation of his hot breath against my skin sends a thrill through me. His tongue darts out, tentative at first, then more insistently as he explores this new act of submission.

I gasp as he gently takes my breast in his mouth, his demonic eyes clashing with mine, revealing his inner turmoil—pride battling pleasure. I delight in his duality, this mighty demon now bending to my will.

"Good boy," I purr, stroking the back of his neck. His eyes flutter closed at my praise, and I feel a surge of power knowing that I am the one who elicits such a response from him.

My head lolls back as pleasure courses through me. His hands, once restrained by the ring, now wander my body, tracing every curve. I feel his hard cock against me, and I instinctively grind against him, drawing a groan from his throat.

Emboldened by the sound, I wrap my fingers around his thick shaft, feeling him stiffen and gasp as I stroke him, matching the rhythm of each flick of his tongue on my nipple.

With a reluctant sigh, I pull away from him, his lips releasing my breast with a wet pop. His eyes open, confusion and desire warring in his gaze. I smile wickedly, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"That's enough for now," I say, my voice husky with need.

I slide off his lap, standing before him with a challenge in my eyes. He watches me hungrily, his body tense with anticipation.

"On your knees," I command, my voice a sharp blade slicing through the tension-filled air. He obeys, the fiery gaze of the demon before me sending a thrill of anticipation through my veins.

I step forward and thread my fingers through his thick, dark hair.

"You know what to do, pet," I purr, guiding his head between my thighs. His hot breath on my sensitive flesh makes me gasp.

His body tenses with resistance, hesitating before instinct takes over. His tongue flicks out, the tentative lick igniting a moan from me as I tighten my grip on his hair, spurring him on.

"Don't make me repeat myself," I say, my voice a mix of threat and desire.

Milkor's low growl vibrates against my flesh as he dives in, his mouth eager where it was reluctant moments ago. His demonic tongue flicks and circles my clit, each stroke sending waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

I throw my head back, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I ride the wave of sensation. The sensation of his coarse, scaly cheeks brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, the knowledge that this formidable demon is on his knees by my directive—it's utterly exhilarating.

His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he feasts on me, his hunger as palpable as my own. I can feel the pressure building, a storm of pleasure gathering strength within me. My legs begin to tremble, my body coiling like a spring as I edge closer to the precipice.

"Yes," I hiss, the word a desperate plea. "Just like that."

I can feel the vibrations from his growl as he increases his pace, his tongue expertly coaxing me toward the edge. I'm teetering on the brink, my body a taut bowstring about to snap.

But I'm not ready to surrender yet. Channeling the power of the ring, I flick my wrist and send Milkor's body crashing to the floor. He lands with a thud, his crimson eyes wide with surprise.

I don't give him a chance to recover. Straddling his waist, I position myself above his hard cock, feeling the heat of it against my sensitive flesh. His hands reach for me, but I pin them above his head, my magic ensuring he stays exactly where I want him.

"Mine," I purr, the word a promise and a claim.

His eyes blaze with a mix of defiance and desire, but he doesn't resist as I lower myself onto him. The sensation of him filling me is exquisite, a delicious stretch that sends a shudder of pleasure through my body.

I begin to move, my hips rocking against his, each thrust driving him deeper inside me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, matching the rhythm of our bodies. The room is filled with the sounds of our coupling—the slap of flesh against flesh, the wet suction of our joining, our mingled moans and growls.

Milkor's control begins to slip, his body bucking beneath mine as he fights against my magical restraints. I can feel the power radiating from him, a wild, untamed force that only fuels my own desire.

"Let go," I command, my voice a guttural growl.

And he does. With a roar that shakes the walls, Milkor surrenders to his release, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes. The sensation of his climax triggers my own, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that rips through my body like a storm.

I collapse onto his chest, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in unison. For a moment, we lie there, caught in the aftermath of our passion, our breaths slowly returning to normal.

As the haze of pleasure begins to clear, I roll off Milkor, my body still tingling from our intense encounter. The cool floor against my back is a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his demonic form beside me. For a moment, we lie there in silence, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room.

Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. Milkor's eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. In this moment of vulnerability, I can see the conflict etched on his features - a mixture of satisfaction, anger, and something I can't quite define.

I prop myself up on one elbow, studying him. The ring on my finger pulses gently, a constant reminder of the power I now hold over this formidable demon. As if sensing my gaze, Milkor's eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a wary intensity.

"You belong to me now," I say, my voice soft but firm. The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication.

Milkor's jaw clenches, a low growl rumbling in his chest. But he doesn't move, doesn't challenge my claim.

Perhaps he has finally learned.