The magical assault on Ayla's senses intensified as Mira's power manifested in thick, crimson tendrils that coiled around her suspended body like serpents.
One slick appendage plunged between her thighs while others spiraled around her peaked nipples, their surfaces thrumming with barely-contained energy.
"PleasepleasePLEASE—" Ayla's voice shattered into wordless cries as the magic vibrated at a frequency that made her bones ache with need.
Her muscles locked in exquisite torment, suspended in that razor's edge between agony and ecstasy.
Mira watched through hooded eyes as Ruby's clever tongue worked in relentless circles. The wet squelch of the redhead drinking deep from Mira's overflowing arousal filled the room—each lewd slurp making Ayla's neglected sex pulse with desperate envy.
The scent of Mira's climax hung heavy in the air—musky and thick—as Ruby lapped greedily at her trembling folds, swallowing every drop with obscene enthusiasm.
"Tell me why I should let you come," Mira demanded, her voice catching as another wave of pleasure rocked through her. She tangled her fingers in Ruby's hair, grinding down harder against that wicked tongue.
"B-because I'm yours!" Ayla sobbed, watching helplessly as a glistening strand of Mira's nectar dripped from Ruby's chin. The sight made her own thighs slick with fresh arousal. "Because I'll—ah!—I'll lick your boots clean! I'll—nngh—let the stableboys use me! Anything!"
A particularly vicious flick of Ruby's tongue made Mira's back arch sharply. "Anything?" she gasped, her magic tightening around Ayla's throat in a phantom chokehold. "Even... fuck... even if I let Ruby drink from you next?"
The cruel promise sent a fresh flood between Ayla's thighs. "Y-yes! Gods, yes!" she begged, her hips jerking uselessly against the magical restraints. "Please let her—ah!—let her taste me too!"
Mira's laughter dissolved into shuddering moans as Ruby doubled her efforts, her lips sealed around Mira's throbbing clit as she drank down another gush of her mistress's release.
The magical tendrils inside Ayla pulsed in time with each greedy swallow, their rhythm perfectly synchronized to Ruby's worship.
"Then watch closely," Mira ordered through clenched teeth.
Ayla's eyes locked onto the obscene sight—Ruby's face glistening with Mira's essence, her throat working as she gulped down every last drop.
The realization that those same lips might soon be between her thighs sent Ayla spiraling.
When Mira's climax hit, it came with a guttural cry. The magical tendrils inside Ayla convulsed violently, prolonging her own release until her vision whited out.
She distantly registered the hot rush of her own juices spilling down trembling thighs—untouched, unseen, wasted on the floor while Ruby continued to feast.
As consciousness flickered, Ayla's last thought was of Ruby's mouth—those perfect, practiced lips—and the devastating promise they held.
Consciousness returned to Ayla in slow, hazy waves. The first thing she registered was the cold stone floor beneath her bare skin—then the warm, wet pressure between her thighs.
Ruby.
The redhead knelt between her trembling legs, her mouth sealed over Ayla's oversensitive sex, drinking down every last drop of her neglected arousal with shameless enthusiasm. Ayla's back arched off the floor with a broken gasp, her fingers tangling helplessly in Ruby's fiery hair.
"Good—ah!—good girl," Mira purred from where she lounged on the bed, watching with lazy satisfaction as Ruby worked. "Clean her up properly. Wouldn't want our Ayla going to bed unsatisfied."
The mocking lilt in her voice made Ayla whimper, her thighs clamping around Ruby's head as the redhead's tongue swirled in cruel, knowing circles.
Onyx and Luna had retreated to the corner of the room, their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and lingering arousal, watching with rapt attention.
Mira stretched, her lithe body glistening in the candlelight as she admired her handiwork. "Tell me, Ayla," she mused, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "was it worth the wait?"
Ayla could only moan in response, her hips jerking as Ruby's fingers joined her mouth, plunging deep inside with practiced precision. The overstimulation was unbearable—every nerve alight, her body wrung dry yet still shuddering with aftershocks.
Mira chuckled, rising from the bed with feline grace. She crossed the room in slow, measured strides, her bare feet silent against the stone. When she crouched beside Ayla's trembling form, her eyes gleamed with dark amusement.
"You look ruined," she murmured, tilting Ayla's chin up with one finger. "Do you even remember your own name?"
Ayla's lips parted, but no sound came out—just a ragged exhale as Ruby's teeth grazed her clit, sending another violent tremor through her.
Mira's smirk deepened. "Pathetic." She turned to Ruby, stroking the redhead's damp hair. "Enough. She's had her reward."
Ruby pulled away with a wet pop, licking her lips obscenely as she sat back on her heels. Ayla's legs fell open, her sex glistening and swollen, her chest heaving with unsteady breaths.
Mira's gaze swept over the scene—Ayla's ravaged body twitching with aftershocks, Ruby's swollen lips still glistening with both their essences, Onyx and Luna watching with rapt attention—and felt... hollow.
A deep, gnawing emptiness yawned in her chest where satisfaction should have been.
It wasn't always like this. There was a time when orchestrating such exquisite torment filled her with dark fulfillment. When the sight of Ayla's eyes rolling back in forced ecstasy would have sent a thrill through her.
But now...
The memory struck unbidden—Rosalyn's face contorted in pure, unfiltered rapture. The way her lips had parted in a scream full of ecstasy , her entire being vibrating with sensations too overwhelming to control. That look of complete surrender to pleasure, not to power as Adrian kept pounding her.
Mira's fingers twitched at her sides.
Ayla whimpered beneath her, still waiting for praise or punishment. The sound grated against Mira's nerves—too practiced, too performative. She pressed her bare foot against the brunette's face, grinding her sole against trembling lips.
"Lick it," she commanded, but the words lacked their usual venom.
Ayla obeyed instantly, her tongue working between Mira's toes with practiced devotion. The worship should have soothed the restless itch beneath Mira's skin.
Instead, it only deepened her dissatisfaction.
Ayla's tongue worked diligently between Mira's toes, the same perfect motions that had once sent sparks of pleasure through the Blackthorn heir. Now they barely registered.
Mira stared blankly at the wall, seeing only that memory—Rosalyn's face twisted in primal ecstasy, her body moving without thought or restraint. That moment when she'd stopped being a noblewoman and became simply a woman consumed by pleasure.
A sharp pain bloomed in Mira's palm. She looked down to find her nails digging crescent moons into her own flesh.
Adrian Everhart...
The name tasted like copper on her tongue. It was his fault she stood here unsatisfied. His fault this carefully constructed world of control and submission now felt like a gilded cage. He had shown her something real—something raw—and now nothing else would suffice.
Ayla whimpered beneath her foot, bringing Mira back to the present. The brunette's eyes shone with desperate devotion, her lips swollen from worship.