Kaito stood frozen for a long moment, eyes wide, heart hammering against his ribs as he stared down at the Demon Queen Givelle.
She remained on her knees in the center of the ruined throne chamber, elegant fingers scraping uselessly at the gleaming obsidian collar now locked tight around her own slender throat. The same collar that, only minutes earlier, had been choking his freedom and chaining his will to hers.
His mind raced, pieces clicking into place like a lock finally turning. His hidden skill had turned out to be a minor reversal skill, but by some great coincidence, it had been the exact reversal skill Kaito needed to escape the binding collar and instead enslave the demon queen.
What were the odds?
Now the leash was on her and she belonged to him.
A slow, incredulous grin began to spread across Kaito's face. He could live like a king here, he cokld make her serve, make her do anything he wanted.
His gaze drifted over her body again, and he looked at her properly.
The black gown clung to her like liquid shadow, hugging the outrageous swell of her breasts. It cinched tightly at her thin waist before flaring over her wide, generous hips.
Her long legs were covered in thigh high stockings and ended in silver heels. Even as she was on her knees, glaring furiously at him, she looked absolutely hot and sinful, like something created directly for wet dreams.
Kaito's mouth went dry and he swallowed hard.
"Stand up," he said in a low voice.
Givelle's crimson eyes snapped up to his, blazing with outrage, however she couldn't refuse his order, she rose slowly, reluctantly,. The collar gleamed against her pale throat as she straightened to her full, imposing height.
"You have no idea the gravity of the offenses you're committing Kaito." She hissed. "Release me now before you make a mistake."
Kaito barely heard the threat, he was too busy staring.
His eyes roamed shamelessly—over the heavy straining curve of her chest, then lower to the lush flare of her hips and the thick, rounded shape of her ass barely contained by the tight fabric. Heat flooded his face, his groin, and his thoughts.
At first he felt a little ashamed about his thoughts, but he remembered she had intended to collar him as well, she would have enslaved him and made him do whatever she wanted, despite his reservations.
How was this any different?
This increased his resolve and he licked his lips, smirk sharpening.
"Turn around," he ordered.
Givelle stiffened. Her fingers flexed at her sides.
"What?"
"You heard me." He repeated. "Turn around."
Her lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing the tips of perfect white teeth. "When my father learns of this, mortal, he will tear your spine out through your mouth. He will hang your guts from the spires of the Black Citadel."
Kaito stepped closer, voice dropping to a dark, almost playful murmur.
"Turn. Around."
She fought it. He could see the war in her body—the way her shoulders trembled, the way her thighs clenched, the furious flush climbing her cheeks until the tips of her ears burned scarlet.
But the collar did not care about threats or pride.
Slowly, agonizingly, Givelle turned.
Her back faced him now. The gown stretched taut across the dramatic sweep of her spine, then dipped low to expose the elegant line of her shoulder blades before hugging the generous, heart-shaped swell of her ass. The fabric looked painted on.
Kaito's breath hitched.
He circled to her side, eyes locked on the lush curves, then raised his hand.
The slap cracked through the silent chamber—his palm connecting firmly with the right cheek.
Givelle gasped.
The sound was small, startled, almost delicate—a soft, feminine "ah!" that shot straight to Kaito's core like lightning. Her whole body jolted, hips twitching once before she forced herself still.
Heaven. That sound was absolute heaven.
He grinned wider, heart racing, cock already straining painfully against his trousers.
"Raise your gown," he said.
Givelle's head whipped toward him, eyes wide with shock and something dangerously close to panic.
"What?"
"You heard me." Kaito leaned in, voice husky, dripping with dark satisfaction. "Raise your gown, Givelle. Show me what's mine now."
Her fingers dug into her palms. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, angry bursts. The flush on her cheeks deepened to a furious crimson, spreading down her neck and across the tops of her breasts.
For one long, trembling heartbeat she stood frozen—proud Demon Queen, reduced to this.
Then, fingers shaking with rage and humiliation, she reached for the hem of her black gown.
Kaito's pulse thundered in his ears as Givelle's trembling fingers gripped the hem of her black gown.
She lifted it slowly, inch by torturous inch, the silky fabric sliding up over the smooth pale skin of her thighs, past the lacy tops of her stockings, until the full curves of her ass came into view. The gown bunched around her waist now, leaving her lower half almost entirely bare except for the thin black thong that disappeared between her generous cheeks.
Kaito stared, mouth falling open. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Shit," he breathed, the word slipping out rough and hungry.
He stepped forward and brought his hand down again—harder this time. The sharp crack echoed off the stone walls. Her ass jiggled under the impact, a faint red handprint already blooming across the right cheek.
Givelle gasped again, louder, the sound breaking into a tiny, involuntary whimper. Her knees buckled for half a second before she caught herself.
Kaito couldn't stop himself. He reached out, palms sliding over the warm, silky flesh, squeezing gently, then harder, kneading the soft weight of her. His thumbs traced the edges of the thong where it vanished between her cheeks. He imagined spreading her wider, burying his face there, biting, licking, claiming every inch. The urge to drop to his knees and press his lips to that perfect curve surged so fiercely he had to clench his jaw to fight it back.
Not yet.
He forced himself to step back, breathing hard.
"Bend over," he ordered.
Givelle's head snapped up. Her crimson eyes flashed with fresh fury.
"You filthy little worm," she snarled. "Do you truly believe you can—"
Kaito closed the distance in two strides and slapped her ass again—cruel, resounding. The sound cut her threat dead. She yelped, the noise twisting into something softer, more broken. Not quite pain. Shame. Pure, scalding shame.
She shuddered, shoulders hunching.
Then, slowly—agonizingly—she bent forward at the waist. Her hands braced on her thighs for balance. The motion pulled her cheeks apart just enough. The thong stretched taut, the thin black strip hugging the plump outer lips of her pussy, the delicate pink flesh peeking out on either side, glistening faintly under the torchlight.
Kaito's breath stopped.
He had never seen anything like this—not in real life, not even in the porn videos he'd watched alone in his room back on Earth. The sight burned itself into his brain: the perfect heart shape of her ass, the vulnerable cleft, the way her most intimate parts were framed and barely covered by that scrap of lace. It was obscene. It was beautiful. It was everything.
His cock throbbed painfully against his zipper.
"Okay that's enough," he rasped. "Stand straight and face me."
Givelle straightened slowly, turning to him. Her face was scarlet. She stared at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes, lips pressed into a tight, humiliated line.
Kaito tilted his head, drinking in her shame.
"Why are you so embarrassed already?" he asked, voice low and mocking. "We've barely started."
He let the silence stretch, then spoke again.
"Kneel."
Her knees folded almost immediately. She sank down in front of him, gown still bunched around her waist, breasts heaving with every shallow breath.
"Pull your gown down," he said. "and show me more of those tits."
Her hands moved mechanically. She tugged the neckline lower, stretching the black fabric until it framed the upper swells of her breasts like an offering. The deep valley of her cleavage deepened, and her creamy skin spilling over the edge, nipples just barely hidden behind the stretched material.
Kaito stared, mesmerized by the heavy, perfect weight of them.
Then he stepped closer, looming over her and he smirked.
"It's time to suck me."
Her eyes flew wide. She jerked back as if slapped.
"What—?"
"You heard me." He smirked, dark and certain. "Open that pretty mouth and suck my cock, Givelle."
She shook her head frantically, voice cracking.
"No—please, Kaito, don't—don't make me do this. I'll—I'll do anything else. I'll serve you, I'll kneel, I'll obey any other command, but not—not this. Please."
He laughed. As if he was going to give up the chance to be sucked off by a pretty demoness.
"You're wasting my time. The sooner you start, the sooner I finish. And the sooner I might leave you alone."
Inside his head the reasoning was simpler, cruder: He had never felt a woman's mouth on him. Never. And now the Demon Queen herself—was on her knees, begging, at his complete mercy. There was no universe in which he was passing this up.
She searched his face, saw the unyielding hunger there, and her shoulders slumped.
With a broken little sound she rose onto her knees, shuffled forward until her face was level with his crotch.
Her shaking fingers fumbled at his belt, then his zipper. She tugged his trousers down just enough. His cock sprang free—hard, thick, already leaking at the tip.
Givelle stared at it for a frozen second, cheeks burning hotter than ever.
Kaito smirked again. "What? Didn't expect it to be so big?"