The first thing Damien became aware of was the soft, rhythmic warmth of breath against his bare chest. A gentle weight rested there, a comforting anchor in the haze of waking.
He looked down.
Ais Wallenstein, the Sword Princess of Orario, lay asleep upon him. Her usually impassive face was softened in slumber, graced with an expression of pure, untroubled peace. It was a look so tender, so unguarded, it stole his breath more effectively than any monster's roar. Silver-gold hair fanned across his skin like spilled moonlight, and her nude form was a study in elegant curves nestled against him. She slept with a regal stillness, every line of her body speaking of a deep, hard-won tranquility.
The contrast at the other end of the large bed was stark.
Tiona had, at some point in the night, migrated. Her head now rested not on a pillow, but on his thigh, her cheek pressed familiarly against the firm length of his morning arousal. She slept with a contented, almost possessive smirk on her lips, one arm draped across his legs. It was a deliberate, submissive placement, a silent declaration of the role she had fiercely claimed for herself—his woman, demoted not by force, but by her own fervent desire, to worship at his feet, even in sleep.
As Damien shifted minutely, the movement stirred Ais. Long lashes fluttered, and her golden eyes opened, meeting his gaze without a trace of drowsy confusion. Just a clear, innocent clarity.
"Good morning…" Her voice was a sleep-soft murmur, a secret just for him.
A warm smile spread across Damien's face. "Good morning, Ais."
Instead of pulling away, she simply rubbed her eyes with a small fist a gesture so childishly charming it made his heart clench and then shifted upward. Without preamble, she pressed her lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. When she pulled back, her gaze held his, unwavering.
"I love you."
The words, spoken in her usual flat tone, carried the weight of a mountain being moved.
Damien's eyes widened slightly. "That… came out of nowhere. But I'll take it. I love you too, Ais."
A small, brilliant smile a rare, full sunbreak lit her features. "Good. Always say it. Tell me a lot, okay?"
His heart swelling, Damien reached up, cupping her cheek and running his thumb along her skin. He leaned in, placing a reverent kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Ais Wallenstein."
"Good." Satisfied, she moved then, slipping away from his chest. She pulled the covers back, and the cool morning air met her skin as she stood.
The sun, victorious over yesterday's tempest, streamed through the window in a golden pillar. It found her, bathing her nude form in its light, and for a moment, Damien was convinced the sun had come not to illuminate the room, but to pay homage to her. The graceful arc of her spine, the perfect swell of her buttocks, the proud, peaked curves of her breasts—she was a sculpture more divine than any goddess's idol. She stretched, a languid, feline motion that made every muscle play beneath flawless skin, and the sun seemed to dim in envy.
She turned, meeting his awestruck gaze. "I will take a shower," she stated, as if announcing a quest. "Wake Tiona up. And join me."
Damien could only nod, his voice momentarily stolen. "Sure."
As the bathroom door clicked shut, Damien's attention turned to the warm weight on his thigh. "Tiona. Get up."
No movement. But he saw it the subtle twitch of her closed eyelid. She was awake. And willfully ignoring him.
"Tiona. Up."
Still, she played possum, a faint smirk threatening her lips.
Damien sighed, the sound laced with amused exasperation. He raised his hand and brought it down in a sharp, stinging slap against her cheek.
SMACK.
"Bitch, get up!"
The effect was instantaneous. Her eyes flew open, a flash of fiery excitement in their green depths before they slid into a look of obedient devotion. "YES, MASTER!"
Without missing a beat, her gaze dropped. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the head of his cock. "Good morning, Mini Master," she purred.
"Quit playing, Tiona. Let's go. Ais is waiting in the shower." He moved to get up, dislodging her.
But she was quicker. She sprang up and launched herself at him, her powerful legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her by groping her ass. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she captured his mouth in a hungry, claiming kiss. When she broke it, she pouted, a genuine plea in her eyes.
"You aren't being rough anymore. I want you to be rough and brutal with me. Always."
Damien smiled, adjusting his grip on her toned ass. "I will be. But not all the time. I don't need all of Orario thinking I keep a harem of slaves." His tone turned practical. "Besides, think logically. Is it a good idea for you to be calling me 'Master' mid-battle in the Dungeon when I'm in a pinch and need your backup?"
She looked at him, her expression shifting to one of absolute, unshakeable conviction. The playful glint was gone, replaced by the fierce pride of an Amazon.
"Absolutely. I want everyone to know. I want every adventurer, every god, every citizen in this city to understand that Damien Ardent, Captain of Hestia Familia, owns me. Soul and body. It's that simple."
Hearing the raw sincerity in her declaration, Damien felt a shift within himself. This was no mere kink. This was her culture, her creed, reforged in his image. He tried one last time. "Are you sure…? We can keep the dynamic for private, for sex only…"
Tiona shook her head, her long hair swaying. The pride of Telskyura burned in her gaze. "No. I want it clear as day. My Master is you. And as your servant," she continued, her voice gaining fervor, "it is my duty to actively seek out worthy women for you. My sister, Tione, included. It is the Amazon way to own many strong men… or," she pressed herself closer, "to be owned by a god-like man. A once-in-a-millennium hero. And I will make sure all of Orario all of Telskyura knows that I, Tiona Hiryute, was his first servant. His humble, obedient woman." A wild, possessive gleam entered her eyes. "Honestly, I should tattoo your name on me. My ass? My stomach? Hmm, the lower back might be better...Anything to prove this body is yours and yours alone!"
The debate was cut short by a sharp, commanding SLAP on her exposed rear. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her sharp, delighted gasp.
"No tattoo," Damien declared, his voice dropping into the tone of final authority she craved. "As your owner, I forbid it." He saw a flicker of disappointment before he continued. "But, in exchange… I will buy you a collar. Got it?"
Disappointment vanished, replaced by pure, radiant euphoria. She squealed, kissing him fiercely. "YES! Can we write 'Damien's Slut' on it?! Oh! 'Damien's Property'! Or, or 'Owned by Damien'! That's the best!"
He looked down at her, his expression unmoving. "No. The best I can do is the letter 'D'. And no arguments."
She pouted for a second, but deep in her eyes, he saw it the profound satisfaction, the pride of being bound by his rule. It filled her more than any wild freedom ever could.
"Come," he ordered, setting her on her feet. "Let's take a shower."
Without another word, Tiona fell into step behind him, a picture of graceful, devoted obedience, following her Master to where his other love waited.
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