“Well done! I wasn’t sure you’d survive,” Zynga said as she walked out of the darkness toward the campfire John had rebuilt.

John scowled at the imp in the guise of a halfling. “If you were so worried, why didn’t you help?”

She tilted her head and huffed, the action making her proportionally enormous breasts nearly spill out of her dress. “I did help, Master. Or did you think those flashes of intuition came from you?”

John hesitated and then nodded. “All right. Tell me more.”

“More?”

“Yes, I’ve been so caught up in trying to use my new abilities to provide tributes to Mistress I lost sight of what else I can do now. These infernal flames… they don’t hurt but they seemed to blind?”

“Oh, they hurt,” Zynga said. “It’s a magical ache, not a physical one. And yes, cover their eyes in flames and they can’t see. They steal whatever they touch and send it to the abyss. Sight, touch, smell, whatever sense that is covered will be sent to the darker realms and devoured by whatever first comes upon it.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Oh… and when I covered myself in it? I could still see.”

“Yes, when you wrap yourself in the infernal flames they just look terrifying. It’s a good look on you, I liked it.”

“You saw me?” he scoffed.

“I was hiding, but close by. You can see me know, you know, you just have to focus. You could have probably seen them too.”

“I did see the thieves before they set on me,” he reminded her.

“Yes, you did, but only because you can posses demon sight now and can see in the dark. Use the magic, you can see warmth or even magical or supernatural things.”

John closed his eyes and focused on his magic. He studied it and then moved it to his eyes, energizing them with power. When he opened them the fire nearly blinded him with its heat. He turned away and looked to Zynga. She had a dark glow about her, which seemed counter-intuitive since she did indeed glow and stand out even though she was lit up with an anti-light.

John closed his eyes and pulled the magic from his eyes. When he opened them again the world looked as it had: unnaturally bright for the late hour but otherwise normal.

“Anything else? I’ve heard of demons blasting things with fire and lightning, among other things.”

“Your power comes from Mistress and she has forever been most skilled with seduction, charm, and illusions. Some enchantments as well.”

John nodded. “That fits with what I’ve done. So I can’t incinerate an army with hellfire?”

Zynga snorted. “What fun would that be?”

John glanced at his stomach where he’d been stabbed and no had a sore purple scar with a fresh bruise around it. “I’m less interested in fun than in not being stabbed again.”

“Then you need to learn to fight better. That or learn to fuck better.”

“Fuck better? How is that going to help?”

“You’re powerful enough, you could probably have seduced more of them.”

John stared at her for a long moment. He shook his head and looked away. “Yeah… sorry, I’m not bent that way. No offense to any who are, but not me.”

Zynga shrugged. “I would have enjoyed watching that too, but no matter.”

“You’re a deranged thing, aren’t you?”

Zynga grinned.

He sighed. “All right, so I need to learn to fight and I need to redouble my efforts with learning traditional magic. Oh, and practicing more with my infernal powers.”

“You forgot her,” Zynga said.

John followed her eyes to the bound woman sleeping on the far side of the far. “Yes, her.”

“You should try something new with this one,” Zynga suggested while rubbing her hands together.

“New? I’ve done everything there is to do, haven’t I?”

The imp’s eyes gleamed. “Fuck her to death! Keep her going until she gives you the last of her life.”

John closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I… no, never.”

“She tried to kill you, Master. Or she would have if you hadn’t charmed her. She deserves to die like the others. So you killed them with your spear, do the same to her… just use a different spear.”

John frowned.

Zynga clapped her hands, “Ooh, you’re thinking about it!”

“No!” John snapped. “Not about doing that, anyhow. I am considering killing her, just not like that.”

“Why not? Waste of opportunity if you ask me. Death is death. You’ll take her soul either way. Have a little fun while you’re at it! There’s not a succubus or incubus alive that hasn’t done it. In fact, it’s quite common.”

“I’m not an incubus! I’m a warlock, remember? And if she is to die, she’ll die by my hand, not by my… you know…”

“Cock?”

He sighed. “Yes, that.”

Zynga shrugged. “Pity, but it’s your call, Master. I’m only here to offer good advice.”

“Well, advice, anyway,” John corrected her.

She winked at him.

John climbed to his feet and walked over to the woman. He knelt down beside her and gave her a gentle shake. She didn’t move. He tried again, rougher, but still she slept on. John frowned and checked her head where her former companion had smacked her with the burning log. Her hair was burnt and blisters marked the bruised patch of skin behind her ear.

John paused and looked at her ear closer. It was longer and more slender than he expected it to be. So long, in fact, that it rose to a rounded point. It wasn’t as pronounced as Zynga’s ear in her halfing guise — and nothing like her sharply pointed ears in her true form, but it had enough of a point to tell him she had some sort of fey blood in her.

John studied her face next. She was dirty and her cheek had a cut that had long scabbed over and dried. The cut would need stitches to heal properly. Aside from that she was a pretty woman. A pretty woman with delicate cheekbones and thing eyebrows. This was no farm girl, she was something else. Something perhaps not even entirely human.

On top of being pretty, she was dangerous too. She’d shown she wasn’t afraid to fight or to take on someone bigger and stronger than she was.

John pulled his water flask up and removed the stopper. He splashed some water on her face and watched her sputter and blink. She struggled, trying to bring a hand to her face before she winced and stared up at him. Her eyes darted around, focusing rapidly and taking in Zynga and the campfire before returning to him.

“You killed them?” she asked.

“Yes,” John said.

“Not me? Why. You plan to have your way with me and then cut my throat?”

John studied her and said, “I did kill your friends… and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She turned her head to spit on the ground. Her mouth was too dry and most of the spit dribbled down her chin instead. “Trevor was a pig. Terrence a fool and a coward. Azamos… he was a good man, once.”

“What about you?” John asked. “Where you a good woman once?”

She snorted. “A disappointment, more like. I wouldn’t be married off to let some man between my legs so I could bear him sons while he ran off whoring and fighting.”

“And what about the others, what would they say about you?”

“Pain in the ass, but I was good with a crossbow and they knew better than to expect the wrong sort of thing from me. I cut a man’s cock clean off for trying that, once.”

John winced in spite of himself.

“I remember… I wanted you like I never wanted no man before. You done that to me?”

John nodded.

“You said you was a wizard?”

“I am a wizard, but I’m also a warlock.”

Her brow creased. “What’s the difference?”

“It’s complicated,” John said.

She shrugged. “I’m bound and fit to die when we’re done, no doubt. Indulge me.”

John studied her. “You’re a peculiar one, aren’t you? Most people shy away from magic, you seem interested.”

“Another reason my parents disowned me, I’m too damned curious for my own good.”

John grunted. “All right. A wizard learns spell formulae and patterns to draw magic into the world from the aether and create specific effects. These takes gestures and words and sometimes must also be grounded in physical components. A warlock is granted power from a… a powerful being that they have sworn an oath to. This pact grants them a gift of magic that they may use, provided they obey the agreement.”

“You’re both?” she asked.

He nodded.

“So you’re sworn to some greater being? What, like a saint or a something?”

John chuckled. “No, that would be a priest. I suppose there’s not a large difference between a warlock and a priest, now that you mention it.”

“Then what… you worship a dragon or something? Maybe some scary fey power from a dark forest no man’s dared to enter for ages?”

“Something like that,” John said. “A powerful being not from this world.”

She grunted and nodded. Her eyes went to Zynga. “Who’s that?”

Zynga grinned and waved a tiny hand.

“That’s Zynga. She’s my assistant,” he said.

“Didn’t see her earlier.”

“No, she wandered away to relieve herself and then hid when she heard the fighting. She’s a bit of a coward herself.”

“Hey!”

John ignored the imp.

“What is she, a halfling? Never seen one before. She don’t look like much. Probably for the best, she wouldn’t be worth a damn in a fight.”

John chuckled. “She has her uses, limited though they are.”

“I’ll show you my uses,” Zynga muttered behind him.

“So, Arty, tell me— what is it?”

“That name. I hate it. Only that ass Trevor called me that.”

“What is your name then?”

“Artesia,” she said.

“Just Artesia?”

“Yes.”

John nodded. “All right, Artesia, what should I do with you?”

“If I were you I’d kill me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you don’t know me. You don’t know if I’m lying about the others. Maybe I’ll get more friends and come after you. Maybe I’ll try to escape and kill you in your sleep. Your life is easier if I’m not in it and not a threat to it.”

John looked at Zynga and then back to Artesia. “Is Zynga coaching you?”

Her brow furrowed again. “No, why?”

“Sounds like something she would say,” he muttered. “Okay. What would you prefer I do? I’m not afraid to kill, mind you, just ask your friends. I’d rather not though, not unless it’s earned.”

“I came with them to rob you,” she pointed out.

“Are you trying to end up with your throat cut?”

She smiled and winced as the movement reopened the cut on her cheek. “No, just being practical. I’d rather you didn’t kill me, of course, but beyond that I don’t know. I mean… I wronged you and by all rights, my life’s in your hands.”

“More than that,” John said. He smiled and summoned up a dark flame that surrounded his hand.

Her eyes widened. She nodded. “You don’t need to scare me, I’m your prisoner to do with as you please.”

John dismissed the flame. “Do I scare you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. You should be. You said I could do with you as I wish… what if I wish to spread your legs?”

“I would fight you,” she said.

“But you said—”

“And you can, but I’ll fight that. You’ll either kill me or knock me out. I won’t agree to that.”

“You said you remember wanting me before… I could do that to you again.”

She nodded. “You could. That’s the only way.”

John glanced at Zynga. The imp grinned. He turned back to her. “I need to ask a few more questions,” he said.

She shrugged. “Longer I talk, longer I’m still breathing.”

He smirked. “When I used my magic on you before you resisted me. Why is that?”

“You’re the warlock, you tell me,” she said. “I could feel something unnatural about you. Like I wanted you. That didn’t sit right with me. Wasn’t right, I knew.”

“You don’t like men?” Zynga asked.

“I don’t know, never been with one,” Artesia said. “Never needed one, more like.”

“Women?” Zynga asked.

“Never been interested in them either.”

Zynga harrumphed and said, “You’re missing out, girlfriend.”

John spared the strange imp a glance. “Girlfriend?”

Zynga waved him away.

“All right,” John said as he turned around. “But then my magic worked.”

She blushed. “Yes. I wasn’t aching to throw my legs up in the air, but I wasn’t going to let them kill you neither.”

“Interesting,” John mused. “Next question… what are you?”

She frowned and said, “What do you mean?”

“Your ears. Your face. Maybe more, I don’t know. You’re not all human. I’ve never seen anyone like you, but I feel like… well, I used to know a great deal more than I do now. I feel like I’ve heard of people like you before.”

“You’re asking me questions and you don’t know what you don’t know?”

John chuckled. “No, I suppose I don’t. That’s part of my quest, to discover what happened to me.”

“What do you think happened?”

John smiled. “We’re here to talk about you, not me.”

She shrugged. “Okay, so what? I’m me. I don’t know why I got these cursed ears, I just do. My parents was human.”

“Was?”

“Is.”

“Are,” John corrected.

“What— oh.”

“Well, you’re something special. My guess is half elf.”

“My parents was both human.”

John realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with her, even though the evidence was obvious. He decided to let it go for now. He was getting an idea on what to do with her. “You’re my prisoner,” he pointed out.

She nodded.

“You’re life is mine to do with as I please.”

She watched him, waiting for him to pronounce his judgment.

“I don’t know how to fight,” John said. “I have my magic, but that’s not so simple a thing to use when people are stabbing me. I need someone to teach me and to guard me.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I also need someone else that can drive my wagon,” he said. “Perhaps more… Zynga has unique talents but is a poor assistant.”

“Cook and clean after you too, I expect?”

John shrugged. “Perhaps.”

She grunted.

“Is that a yes?”

She frowned. “Are you asking?”

“I want to make sure you won’t run away in the night or try to cut my throat in my sleep. Oh, I should warn you, I don’t sleep very much. A benefit of being a warlock.”

Zynga snickered. He didn’t need much sleep because of his demon blood, not because he was a warlock. Of course he wouldn’t have demon blood if it weren’t for him being a warlock. It was a nice twist of truth that she enjoyed.

“Yes. Of course I’ll say yes.”

“Otherwise I kill you?”

“That’s right.”

“So you might be lying.”

“Might be,” she said. “I’m not, but maybe I am. You won’t know until I’m gone or I’m not.”

“I can’t argue that simple logic,” John admitted. “What can I do offer to sweeten the deal? My pockets are light but after I sell your friends goods I can offer you a wage. I’ll offer you protection too. My Mistress is very powerful and I have my own powers which you know are not inconsiderate.”

She studied him and considered his offer. Finally she said, “One other thing.”

Zynga hissed behind him.

“What?” he asked.

“I teach you to fight, you teach me magic.”

John blinked. “Magic? You mean… to be a wizard?”

“Maybe not that much but some, at least. Maybe it’s for me? Maybe not. I always wondered.”

John glanced at Zynga. She turned away and was taken a dagger to her nails and scraping them clean. He did a double take when he realized she was scraping red paint off them. Paint! He’d never noticed her nails being painted. Then again, he didn’t really pay much attention to her either.

He turned back to her and reached up to draw his dagger from his arm sheath. He grabbed Artesia by the elbow and push her over onto her side. He held the knife the rope he’d tied her hands with and sawed at it a moment to cut it loose.

John let her go and stood up. He crossed over to the pile of equipment he’d taken from the dead and from Artesia and drew out a dagger. He tossed it to the ground beside her and nodded. “Cut your legs free then move all these to my wagon. Don’t arm yourself or I’ll turn you into a frog.”

“You can do that?” she gasped.

John smirked. “Do you really want to find out?”

Artesia’s lip curved up into a lopsided smile, thanks to the leaking cut in her cheek. “Yes, milord. Does your magic work to mend cuts?”

“Only my own,” John said. “And it is very taxing.”

She grunted and sawed through the ropes on her ankles. She looked at the dagger in her hand and then rose to her feet and made her way to the pile of equipment. She poked it around before gathering some of the weapons and taking them to the wagon. It took her three trips to load it all and then she retrieved a pouch from it and returned to the fire.

She held the pouch up and opened it. She pulled out a curved needle and the thread and asked, “Mind if I use this?”

John frowned. Not out of concern that she’d stab him to death with the needle but because of how difficult it looked. “Can you do that to yourself?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure. Might not be pretty, but a few scars might help more men get the idea that I’m not interested.”

John held out his hand and asked, “Here, let me do it.”

She shrugged and handed it over. “Probably ought to wash it out first.”

“That I can do,” John said and he held up his hand. He twirled his fingers and sent his magic to spiral around her body and leave her as fresh as if she’d just bathed.

Artesia gasped. She swallowed and chuckled. “That tickled!”

John tilted his head. “It did?”

“Wasn’t it supposed to? I feel… better,” she said and then tucked her head down and sniffed her armpit. She jerked her head up, “I thought so… I’m clean!”

John grimaced. “Yes… um, that’s what I did. Now your wounds are clean and shouldn’t fester.”

She studied his face for a moment before saying, “Thank you.”

“Wouldn’t do me much good to end up needing to take care of the person that’s supposed to be taking care of me, would it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Good, now kneel beside me… turn a bit… there. I expect this will sting.”

“I expect it will,” she agreed while John threaded the needle and set about stitching the gash in her cheek shut.

A few minutes later he tied the thread and cut it with his dagger. He looked at it and nodded. “My first attempt at sewing, I think.”

“You think?” she asked as she stood up. She reached up and ran her fingers over it. “It feels well enough. Close, tight stitches.”

“Good. Do you know horses?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tend to mine. I didn’t have a chance before I was attacked.”

She winced. “I’ll see to it.”

John nodded. “Good. If you need me, I’ll be in the wagon.”

“In the wagon?”

“I study and sleep there,” he explained.

“Warmer by the fire.”

“My magic keeps me warm… or cool, as I need it,” he explained. It wasn’t a lie, but it was his new nature that Mistress had given him that helped him shrug off warm or cool temperatures.

“I’ll start on the horse then… does it have a name?”

John looked at the gelding and frowned. “The stable master never told me.”

She snorted. “Talas, right?”

John nodded.

“He’s a halfwit who only cares about the coin he can cheat people out of so he can turn and spend it on wine and whores,” she said.

“I wondered if he’d charged me a fair price.”

“He didn’t,” she said. “I’ll sort out a name for him. Oh, and… thank you, my lord.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“For sparing me,” she said. “Both my life and… the only honor I’ve got left.”

John chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet, I have a tendency to get in over my head and get my friends, hurt, killed, or imprisoned.”

“No worries then, my lord, you’re paying me to be your servant, not your friend.”

John turned and walked back to the wagon, chuckling all the way. Maybe she didn’t want to be his friend but he had to admit, he was liking her more by the minute. Pity she had no interest in spreading her legs for him… although he could fix that easily enough if he wanted to.

John rolled out his bedroll and then looked at the locked chest. He needed to study and relearn more from those spell books. He also needed to practice and learn if there as more he could do with his infernal magic. Then again, he promised Artesia he’d teach her some magic and he couldn’t teach her the infernal magic, only traditional formulaic magic.

And speaking of promises, he had his oath and pact with Mistress. He nodded. It had been a few days since last he spoke with her. Zynga, no doubt, had already shared John’s latest victories and acquisition. He probably needed to defend taking Artesia into his service.

John settled onto his bedroll and made sure his spear was at his side in case he needed it. Satisfied at last and with his head resting on a small feather pillow he’d purchased he closed his eyes and centered himself. “Beytrixxa,” he breathed her name into the night, willing the connection between them.

His Mistress answered, plunging John into a dark cathedral lit by urns containing plumes of sapphire light. Beytrixxa, his mistress, sat up a carved stone chair with a short back on it. Her wings were furled and tight against her back, though they rose a foot above her head.

John dropped to both knees and bowed his head, thought not before noting she wore a long midnight blue dress that struggled to contain her buxom chest. One leg was on display, the slit in the side rising to her hip if not higher.

“Mistress,” John greeted her. “I am yours to command.”

“Are you, John?”

John almost jerked his head up to look at her. He overrode his instinct and kept his eyes on the carved stone floor between them. “Yes, Mistress. Have I erred or displeased you?”

“I do not mind that you are acquiring servants. I also wish for you to grow and increase your power and knowledge of the arcane. You should be eager to use my gifts I have given you — all of them — as well.”

“I am and I will,” John promised.

“Tell me, pet, do you think you are powerful?”

“No, Mistress,” John answered easily. “I am fumbling to learn all that I may. I’m dependent on your gifts as well. Without them I would have fallen many times now.”

She rose from her chair and took a step closer to the edge of the dais the chair rested on. “I see. Do you think that, one day, you will be powerful?”

“I hope so, Mistress. That is one of the reasons I seek your pleasure and strive to learn more.”

“Powerful enough, perhaps, to challenge me?”

John gasped. “No! I have never—”

He heard the rustle and snap of her wings a moment her sinister black boots appeared in front of him. He was buffeted by the wind her wings sent his way as she landed. “Then why,” she interrupted him. Her fingers and the long, sharp nails on them threaded through his hair and tugged his head up as she spoke. “Do you keep things from me? Why would you hide what should be my tribute?”

“I’m not,” John gasped.

Beytrixxa reached across her body and slipped her fingers under the part in her skirt. She pulled it up and exposed the deeply tanned smooth russet skin of her thigh. John watched, entranced, as she revealed the union of her thighs and the flesh that split between them. The folds of her flushed skin were glistening with her arousal.

“Pleasure me, pet. Pleasure me until you have proven that my happiness is foremost in your mind,” she demanded as she pulled his head between her legs.

John inhaled her smoky and spicy scent. He shivered from the way her aroma alone was enough to make him tingle all over. He opened his mouth willingly and buried his chin into her cleft. Her slick flesh slid around him, offering him easy access as he tasted her and sought to bury his tongue as deeply inside her as he could.

“A farm animal could do this, John. Surely you’re better than that?”

John slid his hands up her legs to her hips. Her skirts hung around behind him, trapping her musky scent around him and driving all other thoughts from his mind. He ground his nose into her bulging clitoris and probed inside her over and over with his tongue. His hands slid from her hips to her behind, squeezing and spreading her so he could trace and tease her crevice and anus.

“Try harder, John,” she growled. “I think you can do much better.”

John wet his fingers with her juices and spread them across her pucker. He shifted his attention with his mouth, raising it to suck on her throbbing clitoris and working two of his fingers up inside her cunt. When she rode him without complaint he speared her anus with a finger and was surprised at how well she took it. He added a second after a moment and found her flesh molding itself around him.

John continued to work her, responding to the occasional moan or tremble he was able to get from his Mistress. She did not speak as he pleasured her, but nor did she reward him with an orgasm. He used every trick he’d imagined or practiced in the past several weeks but still his Mistress stood resolute and waited on him to impress her.

John was getting tired. Here, in this demi-plane of Beytrixxa’s creation he knew that everything was a function his will. Yet he was so singly focused and determined, he was growing weary. Still her juices coated his arm and when he used his mouth her juices ran down his chin and he drank from her. He soon began to despair that there was nothing left for him to do to convince her that he was devoted to her.

John’s mind began to drift while his tongue circled and stroked her throbbing button. She was nearly as large as his the end of his thumb in her mouth at this point, yet there was no sign of her peaking any time soon. He tried to think what else could appease her. She didn’t need money or lands, nor could he bring them to her in this special place. She had followers sword to her service. Two, at least, if not countless others that he’d never met. What else could she possibly want? What else would bring her pleasure?

Tribute! Tribute pleased her. Pleasure was only a means to an end. What she truly desired was power… yet John gave her power. Every time he drank from the souls of his lovers… or his defeated enemies, that power was hers for the taking. How else could he give her more? Especially if she approved of Artesia living and serving him?

John searched inside of himself while his thumb twisted inside her backside and four fingers from his right hand slid into her cunt. He curled his fingers just right to prod and rub the sensitive flesh in the front of her passage, earning a soft hiss from her earlier when he’d first done it.

John felt the power within him. In fact, it had grown since he’s take notice of it earlier. Not by a great amount, but enough that he was certain. Such a thing shouldn’t have been possible. He used power, he did not make it. He took it from others and gave it to Mistress. Along the way he used what remained for his infernal magic. Yet this meant he was gaining power from somewhere else. Somewhere, or something.

John bent his thumb over and tucked it in to the cave formed by his fingers. His next thrust of his hand slipped past the knuckle of his thumb and left his hand fully inside of her. She rewarded him with a chuckle a slight rocking of her hips.

That wasn’t what she wanted though. She enjoyed it, John knew, but she wanted something else. Something inside of him. He was sure that he was gaining power in ways she did not approve of. Power that she demanded should be hers, not Johns.

There was only one way that was possible. John checked the pit inside of him. The pit that held the three bandits souls. There they were, anguishing under the suffering his infernal side was inflicting on them. John didn’t know the specifics and he didn’t want to. What mattered is they were there and they flared with energy they gave off that served as fuel for John’s magic like dried pitch to a fire.

John tore the souls free of the pit he’d forced them into, squeezing and shaking them as roughly as possible. His inner demon smiled at their torment while his outer self struggled to nibble and suck his Mistress that he was wrist deep inside. John took the three silently screaming souls and pushed them up and through his hand, expelling them from his palm directly into his Mistress’s scalding cunt.

Beytrixxa gasped and began to shudder. She squeezed John’s hand with her muscles to the point he was sure it was going to be broken and useless. He jerked his thumb out of her arse before she pinched it off at the knuckle. Her juices ran down his arm, soaking him to the elbow and then dripping in a steady stream from there to his legs and the floor.

She bent over him, one hand crushing his face into her pussy. The other grabbed his back while she jerked a few times and then let out a throaty purr. She straightened slowly and let go of his head. John licked her carefully, cleaning up her spend while trying not to suck in air that she’d deprived him of.

She stepped back, pulled her skirts around his head and giving John some fresh air. He dared to look up at her, his face gleaming with her fluids.

“I had no idea,” John breathed. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I didn’t know…”

She stared at him. “Don’t disappoint me, John. You are a very clever man. You have gained favor by showing me how versatile you think and act. I believe you, this time. Next time I expect better.”

He bowed his head. “Yes, Mistress. Now that I know you’ll have them as soon as I can see you.”

She smiled. “See to it… oh, and John?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Go north, pet. There is a creature there, a woman by the name of Jaspara. I wish for you to bring her to my service. Bring her… or destroy her.”

John bowed his head. “I will not fail you.”

“Seek out the coastal town of Dilly. Start your search there.”

He bowed his head, exhausted but smart enough to know she wouldn’t accept that excuse. “At once.”

“In the morning. Until then…” She lifted her boot and pressed it against his aching and swollen sack. “A reminder not to displease me… and a reward for Zynga’s continued vigilance.

John gasped as the pressure of her gleaming black boot squashed his testicles. She rotated her foot so the tip of her shoe dug into the flesh between his sack and his arse. The pressure and a jolt of dark magic raced into him and made his cock and balls jerk out of control. He exploded without warning, spraying his seed up across his belly and chest and even striking his chin.

John fell back, stunned by the strange and sudden orgasm. He kept falling, through the floor and into darkness.

THE END OF CHAPTER THREE