The Sorceress's Pet Hero

The hero was done.

Another battle, and more blood stained his hands. His form sank to his knees amongst the fallow field, now soaked with gore. Angular and broad shoulders beneath the chain armor and tunic he wore as he fell forward and ducked his head in fatigued relief. Soot, mud, and blood streaked his stoic face, void of the courageous zeal that had overcome him during the heat of conflict. Now replaced by the serene countenance of contemplation. He begged quiet forgiveness to the spirits and asked that his spirit be washed away of the blood that had yet to dry upon blade and body.

All of this, for what? They took petty pleasures in cruelty and depravity. These creatures, as much beast as man, who had lost their way and gave themselves to temptation and gratification. They spoke of a great goddess, venerating her in full belief of the despicable lies.

It was a blight. A corruption to be snuffed out.

The knight knew there was no such new goddess, only those that blessed their marks upon his sword and soul were true. However, he fully expected to find the source of such twisted lies, whatever beast it was that tricked these shepherdess fools into worshipping it as a god, and ensure that no such taint walked these lands any longer. Indeed, even the valley itself had become warped, slowly shifting under the sway of such otherworldly corruption.

So, he pushed himself to his feet and adjusted the weight of his shield on his arm. Gloved fingers once again curled around the hilt of his sword, and he grimly walked up the wide steps before him to an upper sanctum, old as the lands and long forgotten.

As he climbed, the battlefield had settled into an eerie silence, accepting the blood that had been spilled over its virgin terrain as sacrifice. Not even a bird found the courage to chirp or a bug dared to take flight lest it disturb the man's conviction.

A conviction he would surely need, for he was being watched by the source of this evil. She would not disturb him, either; instead, take the time to study her quarry while deciding upon which course of punishment to pursue. A punishment for the tax he had brought. Bringing these monsters to heel had been no easy feet of magic and guile. It drained the source of her power, and now she needed to refill it.

Primal power radiated from the hero like a sister sun to the pulsing star in the sky. Holiness and honesty enveloped his spirit like the churning of a waterfall's base, and although it was atrocious to her, it was also painfully tempting. Enough sanctity abided in this single man to reimburse her if done correctly. Every dip she could cause his mind to take into the wealth of vile thoughts would pour forth a cauldron of power for the sorceress. Every single abominable act she could get him to participate in would return tenfold back to her. He alone could be worth an entire worshipping cult if he could be persuaded to abandon his saint-like behavior, his kingdom, his virtue--and she was up for the challenge.

Synna gathered herself in shadowstuff, and conjured it before him at the far side of the sanctum ruins. She approached him, taking her time to step across the broken earth with hips subtly swaying in a seductive allure. Long leg bare, the other draped under dark purple skirts that twitch enticingly along behind her. With an animalistic need in her eyes that pierced out through a domino mask fringed with features. They did not waver from his handsome face.

Her presence tickled the fine hairs along the nape of the hero's neck. Nostrils flared momentarily at the sensation of otherworldly danger.

He adjusted to this new threat before him -- clearly feminine. Almost all of the heavy, heavy bosom was exposed as the molded top plunged to her navel, revealing more than it hid.

The Hero lifted his sword to point the tip toward her in silent warning. His athletic trimness suggested a speed in battle. A sheen of perspiration caused the hero's fair sun-kissed features to glisten, and down to the hollow of his throat. Eyes befell the approaching demoness. Doing his best to shut away the allure of her physical form, he focused on the foulness of her spirit.

Intensely purple eyes met his, while feathers bounced around her masked face in rich iridescent plumes of onyx and red. Her outfit was such a mixed style that gave a carefree touch to her flawless body suggesting a personality of acute, yet careless advances.

Synna watched him shift to a defensive stance. Even as she picked her way around a fallen worshiper who had blood seeping out of his chest and mouth, she could imagine the body his slayer possessed underneath his plated guard. His height was pleasing and the lean build of his muscles were desirable. And though The Hero barred-up his own mind from her magics and focused upon eye-contact, she was indefinitely aware of her own lustful feelings.

A wily smile pulled upon her lips, glistening red as they were. He was so confident in his commitment that it amused her.

"Have you not taken enough blood this day, my Knight?" Her own voice carried him in a hot magnetism, charming his mind back into her weapon. "I could be mistaken but I do recall you knocking on my door, provoking me to come forth by killing my children. Is this how you treat all of your invited guests?"

Synna continued to advance; now just yards away, and each step of a metal-shod heel of luxuriant design bringing her closer to that blade, and making the threat of her that much smaller. She seemed so vulnerable in her exposed perfection. The primal power she possessed was masked behind her carnally-hungered eyes. One would wonder how clean a sword would cut through unclothed flesh.

The Hero's sword threw the light of the fading sun in wild, curving arcs off its polished, blood-stained blade. He knew she would slink ever-closer, until her hot, lissome form pressed to his. Thus, the tip of his sword was leveled at her solar plexus, just south of the deep, provocative cleavage of her unabashedly displayed breasts... a mere moment lingered, but quickly he reaffirmed himself and grit his teeth, eyes lifting back towards her own. What little of her face he could see beneath the mask was achingly beautiful.

But, she was no guest of his. She was unclean, and unholy. Yet, his blade paused. Perhaps to allow for redemption? In truth, he did not know why he provided her anything but the quickest of deaths, it was as though he was compelled to.

The raised sword stopped Synna in her tracks instantly within mere breaths of poking into her defenseless flesh. Her chin dipped downwards and she looked at the weapon's point poised between the drifts of her breasts. The eyes of the noble knight also paused in this spot--and for a second, she almost believed she had caught him in a wayward thought, though the seed was quickly averted.

The palm of her right hand rose to the side of her right breast where she pressed against it, pushing the sinuous mound into a fuller knoll. Slowly she mauled it by rubbing her hand across. The breast smashed against her chest in a provocative way until her thumb reached all the way to the tip of his sword and depressed upon its point.

"This is really unnecessary." Gently, in a suggestive demeanor, her thumb rolled to the indirect flat of the sword's point and compelled the weapon away; slowly pushing it to the side so that it would not hinder her path.

With this, Synna stepped within swinging range of his sword; bypassing its point as if it was nothing but a meager bump in the road. Closer now, The Hero could see how her eyes were more purple than black, but in them were a dazzling array of glittering rubies. They smiled into his own colors watching him closely, acting like a feline cat that wanted to rub up against his leg for self-gratification. He would notice that her right hand had found its way to the hilt of his weapon where she covered his grip like a lover that comforted another. Also her own slight drop of dark blood, wounded by pricking her thumb upon the sword's tip, smeared across the back of his hand. Caressingly she rubbed it in, while leaning forward so that she could smell the mix of his sweaty and salty aroma. Lovingly, she purred: "Despite what you have heard, I can be a delicate creature. I am also a lonely creature... and crave nothing but your company."

The touch brought a flash of inspiration to him; whispered words of warning in remembrance. He willed the blade to thrust forward and pierce the devious sorceress's heart. Yet, the muscles in his toned arm refused to act. Brows furrowed beneath the sheen of perspiration and bloodstains as he focused on it. However, all he could manage was to bring the sword back around, lifting it slightly as she pushed it aside, so that the sharp razor edge of the blade hovered beside her neck, just and above the curve of that ornate feathered epaulette that curled like claws upward. He wanted so desperately to make it slice it through the feathers and drive into the slender column of her pale neck, so sensual and milky smooth. So desperately he wanted to kiss the creamy expanse of skin there to taste it...

The Hero shook himself and growled at the feel of her intimate touch on his hand, leaving its little stain of blood unnoticed by him. Suddenly he was reeling back, turning away from her and taking two quick steps. He could not fight her face-to-face. Her countenance was too awe-inspiring; infernal and corrupting. He knew this, but he could turn his back upon her yet.

As he sprang backwards from her, Synna did not try to stop him. Instead, a frivolous smile curved into the lips of rosy moisture. He was a hard one to ensorcell. By now she would have had many a man on their knees, keening to slurp up whatever she offered.

The Hero, however, was desperate to think of defenses still to be had. In one fluid motion he was sheathing his sword while simultaneously reaching for the bow on his back. An arrow would do it. He could hit her squarely with his eyes closed. He wouldn't even have to look at the bountiful curves that seemed to sing invitingly to him.

Synna gave him the sweetest of all smiles, devoid of all violence. "My dear, can we not set aside our differences for just a moment in time?" She tilted her head and pulled up her shoulder, it brought her bare hip forward, showing off the rich indigo tattoos that covered the length of her flawless leg.

And then all at once, Synna was upon him again; confident and intent upon her goal. She would close the distance between them once again with lovely thoughts hinged upon her masochistic mind. She wanted to take him into the depths of her palace and turn him into her sexual slave. She couldn't wait to chain him and whip him in unreserved passions. Already she could imagine how his voice would sound when she finally broke it, pleading for mercy and worshiping her demonic body. She would cherish every moment breaking him into pieces and helping him find his rightful place on his knees at her feet.

Synna was suddenly there before him -- revealing the truth that the sword had never been a threat-- even as The Hero knocked the arrow. Gently, her hand landed on his tabard and trailed up to his shoulder where fingertips rested just inches from his neck where muscles were tensed most deliciously. She stepped to his side and began to walk a circle around him using her hand upon his shoulder as the point of pivot.

The Hero was frozen as she touched him. He fully expected her to be repelled and wounded, driven back by the primal font that resided within him and the protective magic that blessed his clothes with. Yet, none of that happened. Was she not as evil as he had thought? Surely, such a vile sorceress should have shown some

When she came to his back she pressed in closer and purred upon his ear, "I can be a good girl too, you know?" Her fingers now touched his neck sensually, using her dark powers to send a subtle spark of pleasure down his body and to his groin. It was, by far, only a sample of what she offered him.

She was easing around him now, and with relief, she was out of sight. He gave a faint sigh from slightly parted lips. His chin length hair whispered against his strong jawline with the exhalation. Then came the touch as she pressed in close against his shoulders, the quiver of his arrows all that kept her soft curves from molding against his hard musculature, and the jolt of lightning that erupted in his veins, coursing through his body, from neck to loins.

With the pleasure came a pain. For the stirring of his masculinity was most uncomfortable, pinned beneath tightly laced leather breeches. It was that pain he focused on, not the pleasure she gave. Though a part of him wanted to lean back into her, towards that promising, feminine growl.

Pain, he thought to himself. He focused on it, and spoke hoarsely through clenched teeth.

You may be able to pretend to be good, he continued, but I cannot pretend to be bad.

Her head lolled back in a pleasing satisfaction, inches from his ear, knowing that the tiniest flow of her power coursing through his body had awoken his masculine member. Like an intrigued animal she could sense his physical discomfort and inner struggle. However, the most satisfying reward came in the spiritual realm when his mind teetered precariously from holy ground into carnal pleasures. She breathed this in, no matter how quickly it came and went as he disciplined himself to focus upon pain instead, and relished in the succulent ebb of demonic power that he had unknowingly given her. The thrill was so hypnotic; especially her imagination of what his muscled member looked like in its tightly confined space.

"You may be able to pretend to be good, creature," he wavered, "but I cannot pretend to be bad."

Synna hummed, returning the tips of her lips to his ear and breathed gently across his lobe. While one hand remained so that the digits of her fingers touched his neck, her other arm raised to weave his hair between her fingers. This hand ran along the back of his head, burying itself in his hair, and sensually massaging.

"You will be amazed at what you can, and cannot do, my love." Spoke as if hearing his thoughts, though in truth she simply knew what most men wanted. Fingers continued gently playing with the dark blond strands of hair that had ran between them. Synna massaged muscles at their roots. "Let me be your guide. Let me take you to pleasures you have never dreamt. Let me give what you so badly need... All I ask is for you to relax. Let go of your guard and enjoy what I give you."

Let go of your guard...

The Hero would tell her he was not her beloved, but he did not get the chance to speak. Synna had played him exactly where she wanted him to be. All the while she soothed her words into his ear and charmed his vengeful killing into a semi-docile state; she had transformed her body behind him. Dark magic encased her skin to purplish ink even as her hand massaged the back of his head, and also being careful to not disclose her sharp nails.

Along with it, Synna summoned a coiled tendril of inky nothingness to do her bidding. Like a great serpent or a whip-like tail, she coaxed the magical length to sneak along his side.

Synna let the trap spring. Shadowstuff lancing out across the Hero's collarbones and snapping around his neck twice quickly. She drew in a shuddering, aroused breath, and with one final tast of his excitement she tightened the coil. She crushed shut his windpipe in a constrictor-like grip. Her hand clenched a fistful of hair and pulled his head back. Synna rocked him backwards against her own shoulder and chest, tipping his body off its center of gravity.

Synna's intentions were to suffocate the Hero slowly so that his brain starved for oxygen enough to weaken him near the border of unconsciousness. It was quick. The battle had already exhausted him. With a suffocating wheeze his body saged and his legs went weak. Synna let the coil slid, bringing him down to his knees, lest she truly and completely snuff the life from him.

The Hero feebly bought a hand rose to his neck, but he could only paw meekly at the coiled tendril. His face took on a bright, brilliant red hue. His otherwise handsome face looked disturbingly ruddy, veins becoming more prominent upon his brow and just beneath his jawline, throbbing with the futility of trying to find some way to gain a breath in that unforgiving squeeze.

Synna smiled at his attempts and tipped forward now to keep her voice affectionately at his ear, "If you will not beckon to my call, then I will just take you instead." Her hand that fiercely held his hair returned to an open palm where she caressed the side of his cheek in a twisted fondness for her new muse. "Shhh..." Her other hand fell to the hilt of his sword, and with a rasp drew the weapon from it's sheath.

"I promise you it will be more enjoyable if you just relax and surrender to my whims. Things may go a lot smoother for you in the end."

In the end...

Darkness enveloped him

The end...

The void consumed him.

When the Hero came to, he was no longer in the ruined sanctum. He didn't know where he was, except it was dark, light only with two torches that flickered with strange pale blue light.

Worse than realizing that he didn't know where he was, he realized he was stripped. Not a stitch of fabric covered him, and he felt his arms held shackled together behind his back. Her servants had forced him to his knees where a leather collar was snugly fastened about his neck. From the D ring on this collar was a thin, but sturdy chain that was locked to another ring which was a permanent fixture into the floor. This chain had been pulled to a short measurement so that his face could only rise six inches off the floor, causing him to stay bent over while on his knees.

Groggily, the darkness of his mind began to shed its layers, and with each successive one the throbbing in his head grew. From his bent position, emerald eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the room. His strong jawline and high cheekbone were resting down against the floor as he tried to cope with his predicament.

A faint groan escaped his throat. A throat that felt strangely restricted as the collar dawned on his senses. It brought back the memories of the tail, fierce and strong like a flash in his mind. Immediately his body tried to snap up, but the chains and restraints snapped him back down with a clatter.

He squeezed his eyes back closed and pressed his forehead against the stone flooring, murmuring Farore's Blessing softly under his breath. A sharp inhale, and then he flexed. Tall, muscular form was bent and naked in the shadows, now trying to writhe about-- seeking some purchase, some slack in the shackles.

The Hero found no such escape as time seemed to escape meaning. Occasionally, he heard distant noises. Scrapping, shuffling, perhaps foot falls. Further beyond the deeper shadows was a single archway into the room. Beyond this doorway was the hint of a hallway with a cathedral type ceiling, high and lofty. All of that was behind him, and it hurt to crane his neck for too long. It didn't matter. He saw only darkness.

His hands were crisscrossed at the wrists and shackled tightly behind his back and the short length of chain snapped to his collar only allowed a six inch give from the floor. He'd occasionally wiggle into a new, although none were not as favorable as the position on the knees. His limbs grew numb in both arms and legs from the vast amount of time he was forced to stay like that. His head grew heavy in throbs as the blood pooled in his cranium. The Hero's muscles began to ache and strain too as he became more uncomfortable in that position while hours wore on. The longer it went on, the farther away the goddesses seemed, and the smaller he felt.

When Synna finally opted to return, she entered into the room with the sound of clicks echoing across the empty, stone floor. She approached from the hallway behind the Hero, wanting to be heard, to see him tense and react to her predatory approach. Each echoing step cutting through the silence brought a foreboding chill to the prone, bent man's spine. He knew who it was, if not her purpose.

Something brushed up along his buttocks, lengthy strips of leather. One leathery strand fell into the lovely crack between his ass cheeks and nestled there as she bent her knees to crouch beside him. Her left hand that held the whip rested against his back just below his cuffed hands, allowing the hide tendrils to drape over the curves of his bottom. Hard planes of the Hero's rear clenched, enhancing the dimples where it met the curve of his lower back.

Synna heard him draw in a sharp, startled breath. She relished it, basked in the sound like it was sweet honey. Her right hand went to his shoulder, pressing her palm into his muscle and riding it up to his neck where the collar was. Fingernails traced the edge of that black collar very lightly and he could hear a sigh escape her own mouth in a furious lust for his body.

"I would apologize for being late, but you have no idea how long I've waited for you. I thought I should make myself wait just a little bit more," From his bent over position he could only see her feet and the gold and black of high-heeled shoes as she perched there; the source of those clicking noises he heard earlier. The lifts themselves curved like a bird's talon up under each heel, while black covers molded up like a fluted channel across ankles and parted up her slender calves, blossoming against her warm tawny colored skin. The Hero had never seen something like them, so exotic, so... purely sexual. The wicked point on them looked almost like a dagger than any shoe he had yet known.

Synna didn't speak after that. Instead, she was caught up in admiring his naked body -- so strong and sinewy. Her eyes roamed every inch like she was inspecting the flesh of a prized animal. He was hers now, and she grinned in a malicious hunger.

The Hero tilted his head jaw ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of her, past fallen pieces of hair that half-obscured his visage. He could do nothing but wait. Lips pursed in stubborn, silent refusal.

Synna did not mind. It was more time to explore the chiseled yet lithe body of her new toy. His years as warrior had kept him toned, seasoned, and delicious.

He had seemed so stoic and insurmountable upon the surface but now she would dig past those characteristics like a curious cat. She would play with him, and tear him apart bit by bit. Her fingers continued to caress the back of his neck in a soothing brush; sensual and intimate.

"You've been a bad boy, my noble hero. You have slaughtered a hefty portion of my worshipers,, and now I will suffer a power-loss until I regain that weight in souls back." Her pink, ruby-flecked eyes sparkled with a secret of her own.

"I, on the other hand, have been a good girl. I have reigned in my power and have let you live thus far, being merciful compared to your brutish attack." Although her words carried the spice of intensity they were fluid and easy with a lull of old accent, dripping like nectar from a bud.

Her fingers left his neck and trailed down his back, ever so slowly as if she had all the time in the world to count every notch in his spine. With an increase in amusement she tilted her head and continued her words, "Let's play a game, Hero. It will take a year of for me to regain the power you took. And, since you have been so bad to me, you will now pretend to be good. Because I have been so good to you, I will now pretend to be bad. Every time I catch you being bad again, I will punish you by adding another moon to your sentence. Every time you catch me being good to you, we will subtract a month from your captivity. If that ends our time together, I will freely release you, alive and well."

"Now, why don't you pretend to be a good boy and tell me your name? Remember, if I catch you being bad we will add a month to the already existing twelve months of captivity." She smiled more deeply, almost laughing audibly at the thought of her next words. "Do not be afraid to tell me when you have caught me being good to you, my sweets, so that we can subtract some months off. You see, I do play fair. What do you say?"

The Hero stared at her, silent still. To show defiance he turned his head and glowered at the details of the stone floor directly in front of him. The stone he stared at for hours already.

"Oh, I suppose... right, then," Synna mused, having realized something quite interesting, she made it seem. "I have been good to you by offering you a chance at freedom. As per the rules of the game, we must take a month off your captivity..." Her right hand slid back up his spine to his neck, weaving her fingers through his hair until she could grab a considerable amount. She yanked his head back, straining his neck against the collar and chain fastened to the floor. This time her words came cold, growling back at him with an incredible depth of anger. "... but already I have caught you being bad."

Synna's fingers tightened in his hair and there was a soft sound of something being laid upon the ground at his side; the whip. Her free hand now moved to join her other upon his head, but instead fell to his jaw and gripped it forcefully, pushing his chin higher in the air. Another inch it tilted, the thick metal ring around his neck biting into the nape of his neck. A fury could be felt in her hands as she held his head, making sure she could glare down at those green eyes. "You... you cunt-licking dog-fucker who butchered my forces wont even look at me!?" She let her question hang in the air, making sure he understood how serious she was. "Filthy trash!"

Synna spit into the Hero's face, the spittle warm as it hit his skin. Abruptly she released him and returned to take up the nine-tailed whip. She rose smoothly from her crouched position and walked a circle around him. Her voice now came eerily calm, resonating with the subtle clicks of her spiked heels.

The snarl of pain on the Hero's face was strangely, darkly handsome upon him. The fierce wellspring of determination called for him. Synna felt it behind him, wanting him to dive down into that primal source of energy and touch it.

But the Hero grit his teeth, not accepting defeat so swiftly. Synna would not break him, he thought bitterly. He had faced worse demons than she, real and otherworldly alike. He'd break her. He'd savour killing her, that much he knew. He normally took no solace in the deaths of others, but as the sensual creature spat in his face, he knew he'd cherish her death.

"Just because I have offered to play a game with you does not mean you will not pay for your crimes against me. It is obvious you do not realize your transgression against a sorceress of my power, so I shall show you with the severity of many pains. A month off, but a month added, and we're back where we started."

Ending her predatory encircling, Synna remained near his ass, inspecting the globed flesh of each cheek once again with renewed interest Bending far enough down to run her hand over his left buttock, she now grinned, "You would be wise to learn from this, yes?"

Then, without any warning, the lashing burn of those nine tails bit into his right ass cheek as she drove the whip into his flesh. Three times the sorceress whipped the leathered tails against his ass, and on the fourth time they were driven upwards so that the tendrils lapped between his thighs and kissed his hanging balls.

The first crack of the whip was heard like a musical sound, heralding the muffled cry of her new captive. More out of surprised shock than pain, but the next three were met with stoic silence, even as it slashed close to the silken sac betwix his thighs. With that single stroke she had painted his ass with a glowing red that would have shamed the loveliest rose. It was beautiful upon his sculpted skin as if a Goddess had placed it there, and she licked her lips while grinning with malicious fascination. The Hero's body, however, trembled in that silence.

For a long moment he remained there in that shroud of quiet as his bent, muscular form glistened with perspiration until at last he managed to speak, and his voice was measured and controlled, even while inside his emotions were a violent sea of rage.

The heated red of his cheeks were now the entirety of Synna's attention, and she gave fifth kiss of pain across both cheeks of his ass... she just couldn't help herself. His trembling body made her wet, along with the sight of his god-fashioned muscles glistening in perspiration.

Synna was closer to him now, crouching once again next to him. The tight fabrics she wore straining in protest as she reached under the Hero.

"You really have nothing to say?" She whispered as her fingers skillfully found the base of his member between his kneeling legs, and she lightly ran her fingers down its soft length. They smoothed over the tip of his head during their path and turned back up along the underside to trek towards his velvety sac. She took her time, feeling every wrinkle and vein in his exposed dick, letting her nails drag over sumptuous masculinity.

"Perhaps there are other ways to make you speak, my knight," Her hand reached his meaty balls where she cupped them and began to massage their fullness, not only sizing him up but unashamedly indulging in a pleasure of her own. Really, Synna wished nothing more than hear him talk while she took liberty in playing with his loins...

While she knelt at his hips with one hand reaching under kneading his delicious meat, she planted soft kisses along his arm that was shackled behind his back. The Hero closed his tightly enough to see white bursts behind them. Anything to distract him from that hand, from those warm, soft lips. Synna's touch had an undeniable effect, no matter how much he hated her, no matter how tired or aching he was. It swelled beneath her fingers and soon rubbed against her inner wrist and forearm as she cradled and cupped. Still, he refused to speak.

"Not good enough," she murmured in disappointment against his bicep, and her hand returned to curl around the shaft to measure it's growth. "But not bad. But I wish to know what is in that head of your's. Can you even talk?"

Synna enjoyed games, but not this one. Her free hand curled up into the air and plucked from the nothingness a gossamer string of purple. She swirled it around the Hero 's head. The magical essence bore down on him. A deep, almost inaudible rumble shook the chamber like distant thunder, only closer. The Hero could feel it reverberate in his chest as it covered the room like a thick, suffocating blanket.

"I, Synna of the Midnight Court, Sorceress of Darkness, compel you to speak your truth, Knight!"

The wisp seemed to sink into his head, dissolving through his temples. Synna watched with keen interest as he clenched his jaw tightly, the muscles under sharp features flexing. The Hero struggled against a growing desire to speak, to tell her everything she wanted to know. It swelled like an unending pressure that would soon rupture his eardrums. A buzzing that grew louder and louder.

The Hero bit his tongue until he drew blood, wanting to give her nothing. Until, at last, he finally spoke. He would not -- could not-- lie to her.

"I--" The Hero's voice was hoarse, but young and firm with all the vital optimism that Synna hadn't yet had the pleasure to pluck from him. "I want you..."

Synna's heart leapt in her chest.

"... dead." He grimaced. For him, it was a shameful confession -- not because she deserved anything else, but because he did not want to face the truth he was a bloodthirsty killer instead of a dispassionate soldier.

"Oh," Synna said with a slight frown as she weighed his words. Still, she pumped him. A trickle of wetness leaked from his head, and she delighted it how it warmed her fingers. She lowered her hand, the spell of compulsion dissipating. Instead of dropping it all the way however, her hand went to her breasts, slowly stroking the smooth path of cleavage jutting from her top. It was a habit she developed as she contemplated.

"I'm not sure if that's you being good for your honesty, or bad for wanting to kill me. Let's call it another pass," she decided. Her hand released his shaft, and instead moved to the chain that kept him hunched forward. Magic unbound it. The Hero was too shaken to move. By the time he gathered himself to make any sort of move, Synna had summoned another chain from behind him, leaving him as helpless as he was before.

Still, it was better than before, though now the arousal she had crafted thrust out in front of him wildly. He refused to acknowledge what she did to him so easily, though even now he could get a better view of her without her mask, seeing the shimmering cascade of her silvery hair and deviant twinkle in her eyes as she spoke once more.

"And know the feeling is not mutual. I do not wish you dead. Do you want me dead, truly? Wouldn't you rather have me do this?"

With that, she stooped over, sinking to her knees upon the cold stone floor in front of him. Her hands raking up his tense, powerful thighs. Pink-red eyes watched his face through a veil of lashes as Synna leaned forward and tasted the precum that wetted his tip. She then planted warm, soft kisses along his shaft. Lightly she nibbled along the skin of the shaft. Her hands settled where his hard thigh muscles met his hips and took hold to steady herself.

She had misjudged his size. Her mouth now tasting a cock that was length and width of broadsword's handle. Synna moaned contentedly as she lustfully inspected the silky, veined piece of meat that she had so brazenly claimed as her own with all of her mouth and tongue.

The Hero just watched. He did not seem bashful, but rather coldly separate from the throbbing ache she brought to his core, how those lips felt glazing it, making it shine in the dim light.

Synna drew back and shiny red lips opened widely. She took the Hero into her mouth. His thick cock forced her lips apart further and filled her mouth. A mere woman would have trouble fathoming taking this knight in her mouth. Synna, however, was made for this. There was nothing her dark magic could not aid her with. Synna would show the Hero. She would make him crave her. She wormed her tongue out across the sensitive underside of him, then slid forward further, forcing him down into the recesses of her throat without so much a gag.

The sorceress moaned into his shaft. It was a hungry, needy bob her head back and forth upon him, lacking the subtly and teasing sensuality from before as her own base desires took over. Every time she slid down on it, her cheeks flattened as she sucked greedily. Goddesses, she needed this more than he did.

The silent warrior, arms still bound behind him and neck shackled, had little choice but to watch with rapt fascination as she devoured him. He watched how her plump, womanly lips swelled and strained around it. He watched as her mouth sank down to the hilt. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the sight of the devilish temptress at work. He thought back to when the other soldiers at the castle had caught sight of him in the communal baths or during training. The way they mocked his size and made lurid jeers about horse-blood in his veins. In his experience, it had never been a boon. Such insecurities were part of the reason he was so aloof around the Princess.

He should not have thought of his betrothed.

He could not forestall the pleasure for long. The suckling purrs and dancing tongue now painting lurid images in his mind of his bride-to-be. His core tighten and shaft throbbed mightily as the undesired torrent of lustful seed threatened to erupt.

Synna felt it, shifting quickly on her knees and straightened her back, forcing his cock to lift with her mouth. She now bore down on it, twisting her head with each suck out and gripping his hips even tighter. As she pressed closer to him, the full swells of her breasts grazed his thighs. Had his shaft popped free from the wet confines of her mouth, its slick surface would drop into the crevice of her bosom. Synna let the organ slide out more, so the fat head rested on top of her tongue instead of wedged deep down her throat.

"No,..." The Hero breathlessly spoke -- voluntarily, without magical aid. He pleaded with himself. Yet, he had never been so hard in his life. How could she do this to him? She was a bitch-whore of a sorceress, he thought. He wanted to make her pay for doing this. Still he wanted to fuck her throat until she gagged and suffocated. He wanted to see the look in her eyes when he smacked her in the face wetly with his shaft. Yes, he'd cum all over her and make her regret her decisions... He growled out loudly as the thoughts of dark revenge and deviant sexual need betrayed his mind to his wants, and more sinister, to hers. Her dark magic infesting itself inside of him.

"No--!" A strangled cry came from the proper knight as he broke, and Synna felt his head jerk against her tongue. Soon he came in three, body-quaking spasms. She didn't care about the seed, it had no spe Synnal significance to her, though she let some coat her tongue before it painted first her face, and then hotly ended across her collarbone and dripped downward along the inner slope of her left breast.

"Mmm, good boy," Synna finally cooed. "I definitely think that's worth a month off your sentence."