Page 37 of A Kiss of Deception

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. Ajolt 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.

---