His wand swished in a barrage of Severing Charms, turning Fia's leather top into strips that dropped to the floor. Her supple breasts were bared, drawing his gaze. There were no tan lines on her olive skin, and her dusky nipples stood out in little buds.
An aghast expression crossed her face, but once she met his gaze, it had gone without a trace. "Why, Harry," she purred, "if this is what you wanted, you should've just asked."
He arched an eyebrow. "This?"
The chain jangled as she tiptoed closer and tossed her flowing hair. "Few humans experience the pleasure of laying with a demoness. I could show you things you haven't even dreamed of."
Locking his eyes with hers, he closed the distance between them. His fingers trailed down her belly before tugging at the string tying her shorts. As their front parted, his fingers encountered soft fabric beneath.
Her lips curved into a triumphant smile, and her tail coiled around his leg, its heart-shaped tip caressing his crotch through his trousers. "Go on," she whispered huskily, "undo this pesky collar, and I'll rock your world."
"If I ever lay with you, it'll be on my terms." He yanked the shorts down her shapely thighs.
Her smile morphed into a snarl, and he stepped back reflexively; then his eyes landed on her exposed underwear, and his jaw sagged.
Pink knickers. Pink knickers adorned with a stylized picture of a cat. There was no other word for them but cute.
He raised his gaze, found her blushing, then resumed his inspection by circling her. The back of the undergarment had a hole to let her tail through, and its edges were hemmed by someone clearly amateur at needlework. What truly confounded him, however, was the white tag peeking from under the waistband. He pulled it out, ignoring her squirming, and had to rub his eyes before he believed what he was seeing.
"Made in Malaysia? I didn't know demons shopped Muggle."
"Would you shut up about demons this, demons that!" she exclaimed. "I'll have you know we were the ones who taught your ancestors how to dress themselves when they were living in caves!"
"Did you teach them yourself?" Harry walked around to face her, not bothering to disguise his curiosity.
"Well, not personally," she said in a defensive tone. "Going by your time, I was only born a century and a half ago."
He snorted. "Ah. Practically a moppet, then."
"I'm still ten times more experienced and mature than you," she shot back.
He glanced down at her kitty panties. "Yes, I can see that."
"If you had to wear imp-sewn clothes, you'd understand! They chafe and are ugly—" She bit her tongue. "Okay, so humans do make some good things. There's nothing shameful about me using the handiwork of your lesser species! You lot serving us is just the natural order of things."
Her crimson cheeks combined with her lecturing tone was too much; for the first time in what felt like years, Harry laughed heartily. "Listening to you like this, you almost seem like an ordinary girl. Not the scary, murderous demon who haunted my nightmares for seven years."
The chain clinked as she stepped closer, snarling. "Do you realize how insulting it is for one of my kind to be compared to one of yours? Know your place, puny human." Her eyes blazed, and her toned muscles bulged.
A pang of his old fear returned, his gaze flicking to her collar to make sure it was intact, but he suppressed it and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'll make you beg this puny human to spare you."
Whether it was the certainty in his tone, or his chest brushing her bare breasts, but she shivered slightly. Smirking, he drew back and set about making preparations.
First, he winched her hands a fraction higher, to the point where she could barely stand on the flats of her feet. He admired the way the position accentuated her breasts before ducking to rummage inside a cabinet. Surfacing with a length of jute rope, he tied it to an iron ring on the wall in front of his captive.
Whistling, he unrolled the rope and ran it between her feet. She craned her neck as he went to the opposite end of the room and threaded the rope through a matching iron ring. He pulled the rope through, making it rise off the floor.
Fia scooted to the side as the coarse material brushed her inner calf on the way up before settling between her thighs. "Hey, what's the big—"
He yanked the rope to remove the slack, and Fia sprang to her tiptoes with a squeak. Deftly tying it to the ring, he smirked at his prisoner. She wriggled gingerly as she sought a more comfortable position, but with the rope taut against the junction of her thighs, she was forced to remain on her tiptoes lest it dig in harshly.
Given her superhuman strength, perhaps standing on her tiptoes for hours on end wouldn't have posed an issue, but he didn't intend to make it easy. With a wave of his wand, he made an array of feathers dance out of the box they had been stored in.
Despite her earlier derision, she seemed wary, and he stopped short of activating his fluffy toys. "Feel like asking for forgiveness yet?"
"Bring it on," she scoffed.
He was only too happy to oblige. Plucking one feather from the air, he brushed it against the curve of her hip, watching goosebumps erupt on her skin. "Looking forward to it much?"
"As if, you deviant." Her voice hitched as he left the first feather to its work and swept a second one across the back of her knee.
He laughed. "That's rich, coming from you. Do demons even have morals?"
"Morals are for the weak. The strong rule, that is all."
"How convenient." He trailed the third feather up her abdomen until it tickled the underside of her breast. She tensed as he slowly moved it higher, dragging its edge over her nipple and making her inhale audibly. "Since I'm the strong one, you should have no objections to being treated like my plaything."
"Fuck you," she gasped out.
Grinning at the obvious effect the feathers were having, he leisurely put the rest of them to the task. Her nape, her inner thighs, her breasts; nothing was spared from the sweet torture. No longer talking back, she screwed up her face and concentrated on remaining on her tiptoes.
The cord of her tail flicked, drawing his attention, and recalling her reaction yesterday, he brushed the last feather up and down its length. Fiamette twitched and sank to the soles of her feet, straining the rope down, before gasping and straightening up. She seemed unable to stand still, squirming to and fro to shrink back from the relentless teasing, the rough rope rubbing her panties with every motion.
He cast an appraising eye over her. "This is a good look for you. How long should I leave you like this, I wonder... until evening, perhaps?"
"S-see if I care." Despite the rancor in her tone, her cheeks were flushed and her expression betrayed her discomfort.
He slapped her panty-clad butt, laughing when she sank down onto the rope. Her curses echoed in his ears as he trudged up the stairs, pausing at the top for one last leer at her helpless form.
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