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You've been playing with this pet for a while. Pet, not thrall. You'd noticed that her eyes were a beautiful icy gray when you took her, but you didn't know that it indicated some damage.
Your geas is based on eye contact, and she knew enough not to eat or give you her name, so you were frustrated at first. Stumped.
It's been days now of you teasing her, tormenting her, hurting her, trying to get her to break, but she wouldn't. She just sat there, same as always.
You're almost to the point of tearing her apart out of spite, but she grins lazily at you from her bed.
“How about a game, Miss Peony Princess?”
“It’s Your Majesty,” you correct automatically. She’d never once called you by the proper name the whole time she was here. It had only been a few days, but you were used to much faster obedience. The rest of what she says catches up with you, and you frown. “A game?”
“You keep on complaining that I’m no fun. Games are fun. Let’s play a game!”
“What kind of game?”
This time, when she grins, you can almost see the razor edged teeth of your people superimposed on her smile. She’s a sharp one. “The best kind. One with consequences!”
You’re intrigued, despite yourself. “I assume you’d want to be let go if you won.”
“Correct! Let go, without harm done to me physically or mentally, in the state I am now, in the place you took me from, within an hour after my win. I must be–”
You cut her off. “I know a lawyer when I hear one, don’t bother finishing your whole thing. I’m sure it was airtight.” You don’t like her that much anyways, you’re not going to muddle through that just for the lousy prize of her. “I swear on my Name that if you win, you’ll be set free in a manner that you, as you are right now, would appreciate and find just.” You lean down a little closer to her. “What’s the game?”
“Whoever comes first, loses.”
You run your eyes up her lanky body, covered only by her undergarments and the few bruises you inflicted out of frustration. She’s not unattractive. A little thin for your taste, but size isn’t everything. She has lovely hair, that orange-copper color you don't see very often.
“And what do I get if I win, human?”
“Aren’t I enough?” She can’t see your unimpressed stare, but eventually relents. “Hehe, nah, just kidding. I know you’d get that even if I didn’t play.” Her face grows serious, an odd expression that doesn’t fit on her face. “I’d tell you my name, and eat some food. That’d be enough to control me, right?”
You weigh things in your head. The only thing you have to lose is a particularly annoying, rather replaceable human.
You extend a hand to her, perfectly manicured claws glittering in the starlight streaming through her window. “It’s a deal.”
She smiles, but just keeps sitting there. It takes you a moment to get it.
“Oh, I’m, uh, I put my hand out for a handshake.” You manage to not sound as embarrassed as you are.
She takes your hand and squeezes it, pumps it twice, and then she’s kissing you.
It takes you a moment to realize she shouldn’t be able to reach your face. You look down, and see that she’s clinging to your shoulders, feet dangling off the ground.
You pull away from the kiss and laugh, the sound like bells.
“Let’s make you more comfortable, little one.”
You sit down on the bed, and she settles into your lap, grinding against you insistently. That’s not a winning strategy, it’s going to get her worked up too.
Then, she leans down and mouths at one of your tits.
You moan, playing it up a little, hoping to let her think she’s winning as she licks and sucks at your nipples.
You scratch her back lightly, testing, and she shivers, so you do it harder. You break skin a couple of times, but it’s nothing deep enough to be dangerous. Besides, it makes her gasp, and lean back into your claws, giving you the opening you need to reach down and rub at her crotch. She’s so beautiful like this, panting for you.
“Your Majesty, please–”
Your Majesty. That’s the first time she’s called you that. You know sometimes a fae kiss can be enough to push someone over the edge to being controlled, but you hadn’t thought to try. She seemed too strong willed for that.
Ridiculous, like a human could be too strong willed for anything. They’re all the same.
A tiny bit of disappointment is swept away by a rising tide of excitement.
“Yes, pet, what is it?”
“Your Majesty, please, let me–”
She drops to the floor before she can finish her sentence, and you’re briefly alarmed before you realize she meant to do that. She’s kneeling between your legs, eyes blank and unfocused, hands resting delicately on your thighs.
“Let me taste you, Your Majesty? Please, I’ve been so unkind to you these past days.”
Let it not be said that you aren’t a magnanimous Empress. You nod, then remember that won’t help.
“Yes, you may.”
You vanish your court robes with a thought, and she leans forward, eagerly licking a stripe up your slit. You’d gone with a fairly standard human configuration that day, and you’re suddenly grateful, because she clearly knows her way around a pussy.
She reaches into you, long fingers with short, useless nails curling up again and again, in time with her sucking on your clit.
It doesn’t take you long to crest, and when you do, you moan, and lean back in the bed. She keeps going.
“Stop, pet.”
Her head pokes up into your view, mouth shiny with your fluids.
“Are you finished, Your Majesty?”
“Yeah, I, yes.”
You close your eyes and sigh, only to snap them open when she speaks again, voice suddenly clear and harsh once more.
“You mean you came, right?”
You sit bolt upright and glare at her. She’s unfazed. You comfort yourself with the thought that it’s just because she can’t see you, you really have a pretty scary glare.
“You’re not enthralled?”
“Nope!” She sounds cheerful as hell, and you want to claw that grin off her face.
“You made me think you were!”
“Well, Princess Sparkle, those of us who can lie, do! I think it’s time for me to take my lea–”
Before she can finish her sentence, you snap your fingers and she’s gone, leaving behind her underwear and bra. She hadn’t asked for those back, and you’re sure she’d consider it an acceptable sacrifice, but it makes you feel a little better.
You lean back in the bed and scowl at the ceiling, afterglow ruined.
“Humans are the fucking worst.”