I am terrified to hear what people are saying about me when I wake up the next day.  The nobility already think there’s a sexual aspect to my relationship with Khysmet, so I don’t really care what gets spread around on that front.  But the castle staff generally like and respect me.  I shudder to think of what our little public spectacle will do to my reputation.

Yesterday, I was seen as a badass who single-handedly slew three men in an alleyway.  Today I might just be some upstart outsider who’s suspected of sleeping with the king.

First thing in the morning, it looks like my fears have been realized when Vizsla will hardly even look at me while helping me get ready.  I sigh deeply and figure just asking her directly right now is better than waiting to hear the rumor from someone else.  Also, I’d love to contradict any exaggerated aspects of what she heard, since I do care what Vizsla thinks of me, and having her be hesitant with me is honestly painful.

“What did you hear?” I ask.

She jumps.  “W- What do you mean, Cat?”

I give her a withering look.  We both know very well that she knows what I mean.

“Okay, okay…” she says, breaking after just a few seconds of my glare.  “I heard that last night you and the king were groping each other in the kitchen in front of two cooks.”

“Oh my gods, absolutely not!” I deny vehemently.  “I just helped get him to eat, is all.  It was a little indecent, but nothing that bad.  Is that really what people are saying?”

Vizsla nods.  “I mean, I’m really happy for you and his majesty, but I just couldn’t believe you would actually do something like that where other people might see you!”

I would and have done many indecent things in public places, but now is not the time to discuss my sexual proclivities with this teenager.

“Wait,” I say, a bit confused, “you’re happy for me?”

“Well yeah,” she replies as though it’s obvious.  “You make King Khysmet very happy.  He was so much more reserved before you got here.”  She grins shyly.  “It’s nice to see him smiling all the time now.”

Over the course of the day, I get a lot more people coming up to congratulate and thank me.  It would seem that the general opinion is that I am a good match for the king, that he has perked up significantly ever since my arrival.  Apparently, there was a commonly held concern that I didn’t seem to have the same affection for Khysmet as he does for me.  People are glad to learn that I have "come around" to him.

All the fuss seems a little premature to me, though.  Despite what the rumors would have one believe, nothing of consequence actually happened.  I mean, he didn’t even really say much of anything, other than that the threat of losing me is the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced.

Actually, now that I think about it, that's saying quite a lot.  It's basically a confession.

I'm the one who hasn't actually expressed anything.  Just because I let him lick my hands and my tits doesn’t mean I’ve “come around” to him.  As of now, I haven’t even told him that I like him, not once.  I don’t even know if I do like him.  Do I like him?  I definitely at least tolerate him at this point.  When I think about the prospect of directly saying to his face that I like him as a person, it just feels like it would be a concession.  Like that’s exactly what he wants, and I’m instinctively unwilling to give it to him.  That’s probably a bad sign.

However… I will say that this encounter from the other night has… awakened something in me.  Before now, I've had some instances of sexual tension with Khysmet, some moments of weakness wherein I would yearn to know him more intimately.  Now that I've actually had his hands on me, though, it's like there's a pit of gnawing, ravenous hunger that has opened in my womb, and every time I see him it gapes open and begs to be sated.

It's very inconvenient.

Khysmet is also acting strange since the incident.  I sort of expected that he would be extra smug and flirt with me more aggressively now that I've even slightly responded to his advances.  I've given him an inch, so I figured he'd be trying to take a mile.  But instead of being more aggressive, he dials it all back significantly, even being a little less confrontational in his normal capacity of teasing me.  He also spends a lot of time in the library in the afternoons but without talking about what he's reading like he normally does.  Then when I look over at him he's nearly always staring at me.  It's unnerving.

So the dynamic ends up being that within five seconds of being in the same room with him, I'm soaking wet, but he's barely talking to me.  The fact that my predicament isn’t being externally addressed only intensifies my desire.  When he’s not talking to me, my mind just ends up wandering, and the places it goes to are not conducive to self-restraint.  It's getting to the point where if he were to even start to make a move, I'd jump on his dick before he could finish his first sentence.  And yet he keeps giving me nothing to work with.

Meanwhile, the castle staff keep coming up to me and expressing their joy at my reception to his advances.  It sort of rubs a little salt in the wound given that his advances have stopped advancing.  However, between all the different comments I hear about Khysmet in the process, I end up learning a lot about the history of his love life.

Evidently, he had a wild streak as a teenager that lasted up until his early twenties, and he had several passionate trysts during that time, but in the decade since then, romantic relationships have been few and far-between, not to mention very short-lived.  Since his parents, the previous king and queen, died in an accident five years ago and left him with the crown, there has been virtually no one he’s shown the slightest interest in.  It would seem that running a country doesn't leave a lot of extra time for dating – or so the popular opinion seems to have been.

I know that to be bullshit, though.  First off, he has plenty of extra time.  Case in point: he's been dicking around and bothering me nonstop since I got here.  It's not like a ton of free time just suddenly opened up for him to bother me with – he already had his schedule set up before I even got here.  "No free time", my ass.

Secondly, he told me personally, right before that dinner with the Marquess, that his real problem is that he's picky as hell and unwilling to give people a chance.  I'm paraphrasing here, but that's what it boils down to.

Not giving people a chance is something I’m happy to fault him for.  I doubt he’s even been looking for someone since he became king, based on what I know about him.  Pickiness, however, is something I can understand when it comes to romance.  I mean, if you know what you want, why would you settle for anything less?  To me, Khysmet seems like someone who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t afraid to demand it.  I can respect that.

That brings us to an interesting point.  Apparently, the picky person in question has picked me.  And if he's barely been with anyone else for ten years, it seems he doesn’t pick lightly.

I would almost think that makes his intentions quite serious, if he hadn't established from the beginning that he was only bringing me on as "entertainment".  From the very start I have been toyed with, poked and prodded to see my reactions, played with like a cat plays with a mouse.  My very presence here is completely at his mercy.  If nothing else, I am under his employ, therefore I can only possibly have so much agency in our relationship.  There’s a massive power imbalance that makes it impossible to envision a version of being with him that isn’t at least somewhat degrading to me.

So does he see the potential for a serious relationship with me, or does he just want entertainment?  Could he see me as an equal or will I always just be a subordinate?  Am I a potential partner or his favorite toy?  Thinking about it makes me dizzy.

My head has been spinning with questions lately, and most of them don’t have easy answers.  There is one, however, that has been bothering me which has a very definitive answer, and will be very easy to find out.  I have to ask it, or it’s going to drive me crazy forever.  One morning in the great hall, I see one of the court chemists milling about, the one named Nolara, and I take the opportunity.

I call her over, and she, after looking around to make sure I'm not actually signaling to someone else, walks up to stand beside me and my harp. 

"I have a quick question for you," I say, keeping my voice down and glancing at Khysmet to make sure he's not looking. 

"Yes?" she replies.  "What is it?"

"I wanted to know what the uses are for Sungian venom."

Nolara adjusts her spectacles and launches into a detailed explanation.

"Well," she says, "it's commonly understood that our venom's primary effect on most animals is to augment, for a brief period, the subjective experiences of our senses.  It makes colors seem brighter, sounds seem louder, tastes more powerful, et cetera.  It has seen use by soldiers and athletes in order to heighten their reflexes in battle or sport, but research has shown this to be ineffective, as the sensory augmentation often overwhelms and distracts the subject rather than giving them an edge.  Concentrated Sungian venom is occasionally used as a method of torture, since it also intensifies the experience of pain.

"Most commonly, however, it is injected directly from the source into a Sungian's partner during sexual intercourse, as it amplifies the experience of pleasure and can bring about more intense orgasm."

"Son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," I say quickly.  "Sorry, I just heard about its properties from someone else, and I didn't believe them – looks like I was wrong.  As always, your answers are incredibly elucidating.  Thanks for your help."

She nods and smiles.  "Any time, dear."

I look back at Khysmet and find that he's staring in my direction with a smirk on his face.  I flush a deep red and look away.  There's no way he knows what I was talking about, right?  Surely I wasn't that loud.  Then again, I realize with a groan, if he heard even a snippet of what the chemist was explaining to me, he could easily have deduced what I asked.  Nosy bastard. 

My latest hobby is finding extremely specific Veilsung songs and playing the instrument accompaniment without singing, in order to surreptitiously communicate with Khysmet.  He doesn’t always get them right away, but there are a few that I use more often than others which he picks up on immediately.  Right now I start plucking a cautionary folk tune about a man who gets his snout cut off for sticking it where it doesn't belong.  I glance back and see that he's giving me a withering glare.  Excellent.  Message received.

I’m grinning indulgently and silently congratulating myself on being annoying, when I unexpectedly overhear the new most interesting conversation I’ve ever heard in the great hall.

“–we have to meet in the catacombs?  I hate it down there.”

“Keep your voice down.”

Then nothing.

I strain my ears for more.  Are they whispering now?  If they are, I can’t hear it.

I look around subtly, seeing if there’s any groups of people that look like they’re having a secret conversation, but no one in particular catches my eye.  They may have already walked away.

My curiosity is immediately piqued.  So someone is having secret meetings in the catacombs, are they?  Also, what and where are the catacombs?

I’m even more thirsty for information than when I overheard Rolf and Sulfeng.  That was so cut and dry.  Someone’s stealing money?  Okay, well where is the money?  Oh, you found it?  Guess you’re done.  Sneaking around was fun, but there was no depth to the issue.  Only took me about four hours to gather the necessary information, then it was just a matter of waiting for Sulfeng to make a move again and put a new drop in his desk drawer.

This, on the other hand, raises so many questions.  I’ve never even heard of catacombs under Dimos before.  Or are they just under the castle?  Where’s the entrance to them?  Who is having meetings there?  Why would they need to meet underground?  What are they doing that requires that degree of privacy?  I desperately need to know absolutely everything, and I need to know it as soon as possible.

First off, I need to know more about the catacombs themselves.  I think for a long time about who would be best to ask.  I have a feeling the information I’m looking for might not be widely known.  It’s a far cry from idle gossip.  It’s possible it might even raise some questions about why I’m asking and where I heard about them from in the first place.  Also, I have a feeling that if there is an entrance to the catacombs from the castle, its location might be kept under wraps.  So if I’m looking for someone extremely discreet and with intimate knowledge of the castle layout, there’s only one person I know I can turn to.

When Khysmet comes out of his meeting, I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet, having been spending the past few hours swirling questions around in my brain.

“I have some questions to ask you about potentially clandestine topics,” I tell him eagerly.

He looks at me with a very neutral expression.

“Alright,” he says simply.  “Let’s go to my office.”

He walks away without waiting for a reply.  I fall into step behind him, pouting deeply.  What is his deal lately?  I never thought I would miss his relentless teasing, but this, this indifference, is somehow worse.  Also, now that I’m walking behind him, I find myself unintentionally staring at his broad back and wanting to know what it looks like under his shirt.  My skin starts to heat up as I think about it.  I’ve never seen him even in a partial state of undress.  I feel a desperate need to remedy that.

When we reach his office, I walk inside and plunk down onto the sitting area couch.  Disappointingly, he doesn't even sit near me, instead walking over to his desk to fiddle around with something.

"So," he says from across the room, "what's your question?"

"I need you to tell me everything you know about the catacombs."

He snorts.  "That's not a very 'clandestine' topic.  They run under many parts of Dimos and are widely known about.  They're even mapped relatively thoroughly."

Ah.  So they’re not as secret as I thought they’d be.  Oh well, better safe than sorry.

"Do they connect to the castle?" I ask.

"Not that I know of.  If they do, the entrance is likely concealed, or at least in a spot that isn't obvious."

My brow furrows.  "I thought you said they were well mapped?"

"Relatively well mapped,” he corrects, “compared to the size of them at least.  They sprawl underneath almost the whole city.  Plus, even though the catacombs might be mapped, there are definitely tunnels connecting to them that are not.  I'm sure there are tunnels and caves that run under the castle that I don't know about.  I didn't spend much time exploring the castle in my youth; my brother was the one who knew all the nooks and crannies."

I kneel on the couch cushion and prop myself up on the arm rest to look at him more directly.  He's still messing with something on his desk, not looking at me.  Why isn’t he looking at me?

"The reason I'm asking,” I say, “is because I overheard someone talk about having a secret meeting in the catacombs.  I was hoping if they only ran under the castle or something, the meeting place might be easier to find.  But it sounds like it could be anywhere in the city."

"Secret meeting, you say?” he says with mild curiosity.  “Interesting."

He doesn’t sound that interested, which pisses me off.  Well he might not care about the furtive gatherings of his subjects, but that’s not going to stop me from investigating.

"I think I'll start looking around for hidden tunnels,” I inform him.  “Even if their meeting place isn’t right underneath the castle, it might be close by.  Maybe a tunnel from the castle would connect there."

"Sounds like a fun little project.  I'll allow it,” he says neutrally.  “Let me know if you find something before you just start wandering underground, though."

I frown.  Patronizing asshole.  Does he really think I would just blindly wander a secret cave system alone without telling anybody where I was going?

"Of course I will," I say, "I'm not stupid."

"I'll write to my brother and see if he knows any good places to start looking," he offers.

"Thanks, that would be a big help."

He finally looks up at me and I feel a zing run through my body when he meets my eyes.  Immediately heat pools low in my gut from his penetrating gaze.  This uncontrollable desperation is getting old.

"Anything else?" he asks.

"No," I say, "that's pretty much it."

"Good."

Khysmet sets down whatever he was pretending to work on at his desk and strolls over to the door.  I get off my knees and sit back down normally, watching him as he unhurriedly reaches for the doorknob.  The click I hear when he slides the lock shut sends an anticipatory thrill down my spine.

He approaches me slowly, taking his sweet time as he walks up directly before me, then crouches down to just below eye level and places one hand on either side of my legs, caging me in.  I can feel wetness pooling between my legs, and my heart is pounding against my ribcage.  I exhale a shuddering breath that I didn't know I was holding when he flicks his tongue, tasting the air around me.

"I want you to know," he says in a slow, deliberate tone.  "The smell of your constant arousal has been driving me insane for days."

My breath catches in my throat.  So he hasn't been completely ignorant of my predicament.  What then, has he been giving me the cold shoulder on purpose?

I look him square in the eyes.

"So do something about it," I say, a challenge implicit in my tone.

He smiles with a dark heat that has my stomach in knots.  I'm desperate to know what he has in mind.

"Our last encounter," he says, "as you may recall, was not explicitly consensual.  I seem to recall pinning you down in my lap in a delirious haze being a highlight of the evening."

I cock my head.  I hadn't really thought about it like that.  It was unexpected, but I never felt like I was in any danger or anything.  I didn't even try to stop him until he started ripping my dress, and then he did stop once he snapped out of it.

"It caught me off guard, yes, but…"  I bite my lip.  "I didn't mind."

He chuckles softly.  "Yes, well.  I still feel as though I didn't really put my best foot forward, as it were.  In general…"

He gently places one hand on my knee and runs it slowly up my thigh, watching me carefully for any sign of rejection.

"I would like to receive a more enthusiastic 'yes' from you before I take what I want."

He's leaned in closer, caging me in further, his face just inches from mine.  I can barely think, my mind is growing so thick with a lustful haze.

"For example," he continues, "if I were to ask you right now if you want me to touch you until you come, screaming my name, here on this couch, what would you–?"

"Yes," I say before he's even finished talking.

He smirks at my eagerness.  "Yes what?" he prompts.  "Be more specific, Cat."

Is he trying to embarrass me by making me ask for what I want out loud?  Or just enjoying telling me what to do?  Well if it's the first, I'll have to disappoint, because I have significantly less shame than he might think.  And if it's the second… I'm so desperate that I don't even care.

"Yes," I say, meeting his gaze directly, "I want you to touch me and make me come.  Right here, right now."

The hunger in his eyes intensifies to an unprecedented level.

"Very good," he purrs in praise.  Then he nudges me to move into a more reclined position and starts pushing up my skirt to expose my underwear.

"Wait…” I hesitate, remembering something that makes me nervous.  “What about your claws?"

He smirks and lifts up his right hand.  The way Sungian claws come out of their fingers looks sort of like human fingernails, but they’re much thicker and extend a short distance before curving into sharp points.  On this hand, however, I see that they’ve been ground down quite a bit, significantly blunted.

"I trimmed them a few days ago,” he explains.  “Right after I realized how badly I need to feel you come undone around my fingers."

A shiver of excitement runs down my spine.

"So wait,” I ask, “does that mean I don’t have to worry about you ripping any more of my dresses?"

He puts his right hand back down and puts up his left so I can see the claws on that one still have all their sharp tips.

I smile, finding the asymmetry rather funny.

"Don't you feel a little lopsided?" I tease.

He snorts and raises a brow.  "I tend to prefer function over form."

Then he slides his left hand down my underwear and with a sharp yet smooth movement, hooks in his claws and shreds them to ribbons, exposing me completely in one fell swoop.

I gasp and flinch in response, every single muscle in my abdomen clenching at once and arousal practically flooding out of me.  Khysmet looks insanely pleased with himself.  He cocks his head as he admires the view, and my skin grows hotter the longer he stares.  When he places a hand on either side of my cunt and spreads me wide open, I feel like I'm going to combust.  He hums thoughtfully and lets my lips close again.

"Now,” he says, tracing circles with his fingers slowly up the inside of my thigh.  “I've been reading up on human anatomy as of late, so I think I have a general idea of how best to pleasure you…”

I blink.  Is that what he’s been doing in the library this whole week?  Every time he's been staring at me he’s been pondering the anatomy of my genitals?  He could have just asked.  I'd have been happy to give him a crash course.

“…But I'm going to need you to be extra loud so I know when I'm doing something right, okay?"

I exhale a weak chuckle.  "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

"So if I were to do this…"

He dips one finger slightly into me, wetting it, then drags it up my slit to my clitoris and starts rubbing into it with tiny circles.  Instantly, I feel pleasure shoot through me in radiating spikes, so sensitive from being hot and bothered so long without release.  My back arches into his cool touch, and I throw my head back and exhale in low, breathy moans.  As requested, I don’t attempt to stifle my voice.

He removes his hand.  I hiss in frustration.

“Interesting,” he says mildly.  “What about this?”

He lines two fingers up to my entrance and presses in slowly.  I hum in appreciation as he pumps them in and out of me at an even, leisurely pace, then moan when he curls his fingers forward and hits the sensitive spot there.  When I meet his eyes I find that he's watching me closely, head cocked in interest as he measures my reactions.

When he takes his fingers out, I again bemoan the loss.  He doesn't make me wait long, though, before dipping his head down and licking a long stripe up between my folds, stopping at my clit and letting his tongue writhe against it.  My breath hitches at the sensation, and I instinctively grind forward against the pressure.

He chuckles at my eagerness.  “Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue, Cat?”

I melt at the offer.  “Oh gods, yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, please, I want to feel your tongue inside me.”

"Good girl."

He readily obliges, sliding his tongue, long and thick, deep into my throbbing cunt.  The sensation of it squirming inside me is indescribable, and when he uses his thumb to start circling my clit, I feel my orgasm start to build rapidly.

Before I can get very far, though, he withdraws his tongue and angles his head toward my thigh instead.  I look down to see what he's doing, and watch as he opens his mouth and lets his fangs slowly slide out, a jolt running straight through my ovaries as he does.  

“Do you want me to bite you?” he asks, watching my reaction closely. 

I hesitate, nervous.  Those fangs look even longer up close.

“Promise it won’t hurt?” I ask.

He chuckles.  “It’ll pinch a little, but trust me, the pain won’t last long.”

I take a deep breath in, hold it a second, then nod as I shakily exhale.

He looks at me intensely.  “I’m going to need a much more enthusiastic yes for this one, Cat.”

I think harder about it, about if I really want this.  The way my body responds whenever I see his fangs slide out, plus my intense, burning curiosity, brings me to the conclusion that I will need to know what it feels like eventually.  Might as well let it happen now.  I trust him not to hurt me.

“Yes," I say definitively.  "Yes, I want you to bite me.  Please.”

He smiles darkly.  “Well," he says, "since you’re begging…”

His fangs slide out again and he leans in close.  His thumb is still circling my clit, and I close my eyes and focus on that sensation.

When he latches on, there is a sharp pinch in my leg and the pressure of his jaws around it.  I flinch and whimper, but as his venom drips down the side of my thigh, the pain diminishes greatly, drowned out by a flood of other senses – the soft feeling of fabric against my body is now making my skin tingle, the smell of Khysmet's bergamot and mahogany scent floods over me in a wave, and the sound of his low moan before he unlatches thrums into my chest.  And most overwhelming of all, the feeling of his thumb against my clit is sending unbelievable pulses of pleasure through my whole body.  My moans crescendo uncontrollably, and I grind my hips in frenzied thrusts, seeking more friction.

He inserts his tongue back into my cunt, and the sensation consumes my entire being.  The writhing pressure against my inner walls is intensified by the venom, and it's pushing every single thought out of my brain, leaving me with nothing but the pure flood of my senses.  I'm careening toward the edge so fast it's blinding, pressure building in my core, every muscle in my body starting to twitch with the tension of my impending orgasm.  I’m practically screaming at this point and grinding hard into Khysmet’s face, seeking every ounce of pressure and friction I can find.

Right before I reach my peak, Khysmet withdraws his tongue for just a second.

"Now be a good girl and come, Cat," he instructs.

He licks back into me and when his tongue hits the deepest point inside me I instantly explode around him, muscles tensing uncontrollably as I find my release, calling his name along with several expletives in a hoarse moan.  I've never had an orgasm this intense before; it tears through me in an all-consuming fire, and I lose track of every other sensation and thought.  Wave after wave of agonizing pleasure radiates out of my core, spreading to every corner in my body.  I'm overwhelmed by ecstasy, my whole being shuddering with it.

Khysmet withdraws and lets me start my comedown, which is punctuated by several aftershocks of pleasure that almost make it feel like I’m coming again.  I mewl pathetically as I ride them out.  It takes a long time before I regain awareness of my surroundings.

When I come to, I realize Khysmet must have stepped away without my noticing, because he’s coming back with a little cup and a sealed container of something in his hand.  He offers the cup to me.

“Antivenom,” he explains.  “Otherwise you’ll have a nasty headache, especially since it’s your first time.”

I take the cup gratefully and down the liquid in it, then set the empty container on the nearby table.  He holds out the container.

“And some salve to rub on the bite marks to speed up healing.”

I open the top to find a green paste inside.  I scoop a little out with my fingers and rub it over the two little red dots on my thigh.  They hardly bled at all.  Before my eyes, they heal into near featureless skin with barely a ghost of a scar.  I put the lid back on the container and set it next to the cup.

After seeing that I’m all fixed up, Khysmet sits down on the couch next to me and motions for me to scootch close.  I notice the clear outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants and wonder if he’s going to address that in any way, but he just has me lay down and rest my head in his lap, looking up at him.  He gently runs his clawed fingers through my hair.  I close my eyes and breathe deeply, soothed by the sensation.

“I knew it,” I say.

“Knew what?”

“I knew you get off on telling people what to do.”

Khysmet scoffs.  “I do not,” he insists, “get off on telling people what to do.”

I open my eyes and glare up at him.

“You literally just instructed me to come,” I point out.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes as though unable to believe that I would even suggest such a thing.  However, after a moment of thinking, he hesitantly makes a small concession.

“It’s only fun if I think someone will say no,” he says.

I blink up at him in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“If I just tell someone what to do, and they do it without argument, that doesn’t do anything for me.  It’s only interesting if someone fights back,” he explains.  “In my life as it is and has been, most people do what I ask of them.  Generally, if someone contradicts me on something, it’s for political reasons, which is fun in its own way, but I don’t have a lot of people in my life anymore who will tell me no to my face on a personal level.  That’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

He smirks down at me.  “From the moment we met, I could tell that you are a person who is eager to tell me to piss off.  I was worried when you found out I was king, you’d hold back, but fortunately that didn’t last very long.”

I take a moment to process his words.

“So… are you saying that you would want me to say ‘no’ to you in the bedroom?”

“First of all, I’m loving the implication that you wish to continue getting to know me carnally,” he says smugly.

My face heats up.  I start to correct him, but he interrupts me before I can say anything.

“To answer your question, though…” he says, “no, that’s not really it.  It’s more like… It’s more like I want to have to work for a yes.  I don’t like having yesses just given to me.  If someone is eager to tell me no, then I know that when they do give me a yes, it’s because I earned it.  And I’m a patient man.  I can wait for my yes.  Honestly, if you had gone the whole two years without ever reciprocating my advances, I would have been still happy just having you around to tell me to fuck off every day.”

It takes some time before his explanation sinks in, but when it does, a wicked grin spreads slowly across my face.  I have a brilliant idea.

Khysmet jumps a little when I suddenly sit up.  I crawl across the couch until I’m straddling his lap, my hands braced against his firm chest, grinding slightly against the bulge in his pants.  He looks concerned about the expression of sinister glee coloring my face.

“You,” I purr smugly, “have just made a very grave tactical error, your majesty.”

He furrows his brow quizzically, but waits for me to continue.

“You’ve just revealed your weakness, one I am indescribably eager to exploit," I say with pronounced dramaticism, leaning further in with every word.  "Consider it revenge for everything you've put me through so far.  I am going to spend every second of the foreseeable future torturing and teasing you, dangling myself in front of you like fresh meat, and every time you try to make a move, every time you so much as attempt to touch me, I will deny you.  You will not hear a yes from my lips until you are panting and begging for it.  I will erode every ounce of patience you have until you are a hollow husk of a man, and I’m going to enjoy every second of breaking you.”

He’s looking at me in what I can only describe as awe, and I feel his cock twitch against me even through the layers of fabric between us.  I grind down on it to give him a little taste of the hell he is about to endure.  He groans shakily in response, his eyes sliding shut.  Then he opens them and looks at me hungrily.

“Promise?” he says.

I smile and hum a smug little laugh.  Then I lean in close and raise my hand to his face to tap one finger gently against his snout.

"No."

I enunciate this very clearly, then rise up out of his lap and walk to the door.  Halfway there, I realize what's left of my underwear is dangling off my hips uncomfortably, so I pull my skirts up, rip them the rest of the way off, and throw them on the floor.  Then I keep walking, unlock the door, and exit the room without once looking back.