The morning in the dark forest was quiet.

  Through the thick branches of ancient trees, rare rays of sunlight broke through. They gently slid along the wooden walls of the house, along the bed that was soaked with love fluids. Rumpled sheets, torn to shreds in pces. The bnket y on the floor like shed skin. Moraena’s bck hair spilled across the pillow like spilled night.

  The air was thick with the heavy smell of animal sex — a mixture of her juices, his semen, sweat, and that special demonic aura that still lingered around like smoke from a fire.

  The candles had long burned out, leaving only bck streaks of wax on the holders.

  Moraena opened her eyes.

  For several seconds she simply y motionless, trying to understand where she was. Her body ached sweetly, deeply, in every muscle, in every bone. Her womb was heavy, overflowing — she could literally feel his semen still there, inside, hot, thick, unwilling to leave. It pulsed in time with her heart, reminding her: you are marked. You are taken.

  Then the memories flooded in — slowly but inexorably. Yesterday’s screams. His hands squeezing her breasts until bruises formed. His cock tearing her apart again and again. The ritual. The brand. The tattoo that now pulsed above her pubic mound with a soft crimson light.

  A quiet, almost shy smile appeared on her lips — and immediately a wave of arousal rolled through her body, making her nipples harden instantly.

  She lowered her gaze downward.

  Her breasts… had become even bigger. Heavy, full, firm — the nipples dark, swollen, as if begging to be taken into a mouth again, bitten, stretched. Her ass had tightened, rounded, her thighs had become slightly wider in the most seductive pce — her body had reshaped itself to his taste, to his fantasies, to his hands. The incubus magic had done its work: now she was perfect for him. Only for him.

  And above her pubic mound… the sve seal. A bck-crimson heart crossed by an elegant letter D. The brand. The mark of ownership. She ran her finger along the outline — the skin was hot, sensitive, as if the tattoo had a life of its own. From a single touch, everything inside clenched, her pussy instantly became wet, ready to accept him again.

  Master…

  From this thought, a shiver ran down her spine. Memories of yesterday — his growl, his thrusts, his words “you are mine” — struck her lower abdomen. Her pussy clenched around emptiness, a thin stream leaked out — a mixture of his semen and her juices. She involuntarily moaned quietly, almost inaudibly.

  She turned her head.

  Drake was sleeping beside her.

  He y on his side, facing her. The ropes of muscles that yesterday so easily drove her into the mattress, kneaded her body like psticine, were now rexed. His chest rose and fell evenly, calmly. His face — carved from stone, perfect, with that same forelock hiding the old scar above his eyebrow. Even the scar looked beautiful — like a warrior’s mark, like part of him.

  Right now there was none of his usual irony, none of yesterday’s mask of predator-master. He looked… vulnerable. Almost like a boy. The same Drake she had taught magic to, who blushed from her touches, who looked at her with such devotion that her heart stopped.

  She looked at him greedily.

  At his huge shoulders. At the cubes of his abs that transitioned into sharp oblique muscles — those very “gills” that added predatory, dangerous beauty to his body. At his arms that could tear her apart — and tenderly embrace her. And lower…

  His cock y on his thigh — even at rest enormous, heavy, slightly twitching in his sleep. Veined, with the same thick head that yesterday tore her apart until she screamed. If not for the incubus magic that had reshaped her womb for him, it would have entered at most a third — and it would have been unbearably painful. But now… now her body was created only for him. Only for this size. Only for this rhythm.

  She had already been fingering herself for about ten minutes — slowly, carefully, trying to recreate yesterday’s feeling. But nothing. Not a drop of that madness. Not a spark of that explosion. Her fingers slid over wet lips, over the swollen clit — and everything was… empty. Her body refused to come without him. It waited only for him.

  I’m broken… I’m broken by him… and I like it…

  She carefully ran her hand through his hair — gently, almost reverently. Her fingers slid over his cheek, down his neck, to his chest. She lightly squeezed his pectoral muscle — hard, hot.

  Drake slowly opened his eyes.

  First sleepily, then — instantly focused. His gaze fell on her — on her smile, on her trembling lips, on the hand lying on his chest.

  He said nothing.

  He simply reached out — slowly but confidently — and cupped the back of her head. Pulled her to him.

  Their lips met — not roughly like yesterday, but deeply, slowly, almost tenderly. But in this kiss there was still that same power — the one that made her knees buckle.

  He pulled back a millimeter, brushing his lips against her ear.

  — Good morning… — the man whispered.

  She looked at him with completely submissive eyes — pupils huge, violet irises glistening with moisture. But deep in that gaze was an unspoken question, almost a plea: “You don’t regret it? You’re still mine?”

  From that look, Drake’s heart clenched painfully. He remembered yesterday’s events — how he broke her, how he made her scream, how he branded her with his mark. How she cried from ecstasy and despair at the same time.

  — Don’t look at me like that, beloved… — his voice trembled; he hadn’t expected to say it so quietly himself.

  Moraena flinched from his gaze — full of darkness and sorrow, which he tried so hard to hide.

  — Tell me everything. Don’t keep the pain inside. Remember: I love you more than life itself. You can trust me with anything.

  Drake smiled — crookedly, painfully — and with one motion flipped her over, ying her on top of himself. His cock, already half-hard from her scent alone, settled between her thighs and began slowly rubbing against her wet, hot pussy. The head slid along her swollen lips, parting them, but not entering.

  Tears welled up in Moraena’s eyes. She felt her body betraying her again — her pussy clenched, squeezing out a fresh portion of juices directly onto his shaft.

  — Drake… please…

  He froze. Then carefully returned her to her previous position — beside him, face to face, maintaining eye contact. His hand rested on her cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear.

  Her pussy ached with emptiness, the tattoo above her pubic mound fred crimson, sending a wave of pleasure through her entire body. But Moraena pulled herself together — forcing herself to suppress this urge of her shameless, remade body.

  — I need to fully subdue you… — Drake began quietly, his voice steady but ced with steel. — To set up a restraining formation. It will feed on your magic and your submission. And then… it will destroy the curse from the inside.

  Moraena looked at her former student in surprise — amazed by the simplicity and genius of the solution.

  — You want… to expand my body to complete capitution? And…?

  Drake nodded and continued, not looking away:

  — Then I’ll forbid you from coming. Lock you in a room with my illusion — the one where you’ll constantly feel me, but won’t be able to get relief. According to my calcutions — from one to two years. The curse’s seal will break from the excess of unrealized desire and magic. You’ll become clean.

  Moraena let out a quiet howl — with horror, pressing her palms to her face.

  — But why? Why go so far?!

  Drake took the remark the wrong way — smiled with pain, lowered his gaze.

  — I love you… As soon as the curse falls, I’ll remove the mark and…

  CRACK!

  The sp nded straight on his cock — open palm, sharp, unexpected. Drake growled, flushed, his breath caught from pain and shock.

  — You are my master and beloved! — Moraena’s eyes burned with insane, all-consuming love. — If you remove your mark — I’ll kill myself in the same second.

  Drake knew: this was not the effect of the incubus mark. Not coercion. These were her real feelings — the ones that had built up over six months, the ones that broke through st night.

  He ughed — hoarsely, with relief.

  — Hahaha… I adore you. I hope you’re ready for complete submission?

  She pulled back for a second, trying to gather her thoughts.

  — Hey! While I’m still sober… Have we discussed all the details? In a week you’re going to the capital of our kingdom for the title…

  Drake didn’t let her finish — he greedily sank into her lips.

  The kiss was long, drawn-out, passionate. His tongue invaded deeply, saliva mixed, Moraena moaned into his mouth — and came a little, briefly, from the kiss alone. Her pussy clenched, squirting a hot stream onto his thigh.

  He pulled away, breathing heavily.

  — I remember. Don’t worry. Get the title, sort out order on my nds, then head to the academy ceremony. And then… as things go.

  — Ahhh… How you wrapped our well-thought-out pn into two sentences!

  Drake smirked, remembering those nights — when they sat by the firepce for hours, drew maps, argued about alliances and betrayals. From the outside it looked like vilins plotting: seizing nds, bribery, killing the inconvenient, court intrigues. But they wanted to make things better. To keep the kingdom from falling apart from corruption, so ordinary people wouldn’t starve, so magic wouldn’t be an elite privilege. Of course, someone would suffer badly from this — very badly. But they were ready to take that blood on themselves.

  Moraena smiled — softly, almost tenderly — and began to descend lower. Her lips touched his chest, her tongue traced the cubes of his abs, outlining every ridge. She moved slowly, kissing every muscle, every scar, every inch of his body.

  She reached his cock — kissed the head, licked the frenulum, collected the drop of pre-cum with her tongue.

  Then lower — to his balls. She took them into her mouth one by one — heavy, hot, full. She marveled once again: how much semen was prepared in them. She felt them pulsing, preparing to fill her again.

  All this time her fingers never stopped pying with her pussy — slowly circling her clit, penetrating inside, but not letting herself come for real.

  — Don’t think about the moral side of the question — she whispered, her voice trembling with arousal. — We discussed this a million times.

  Finally she reached Drake’s most intimate pce. Showing complete submission, she began working her tongue in his hole — deeply, greedily, circling, penetrating, licking every fold. At the same time her hands jerked his huge cock — with both palms, rhythmically, squeezing at the base, sliding upward, lubricating with her own saliva.

  — This is the sign that a girl has fully submitted… — she whispered between licks.

  Drake smiled — predatorily but warmly — and surrendered to the pleasure. His thighs tensed, his breathing quickened.

  Moraena was doing this for the second time — and had thought she would feel dirt, disgust. But everything about Drake’s body was perfect. Even the most intimate pce smelled clean, musky with desire, his demonic power. She licked greedily, deeply, feeling him pulse under her tongue.

  Finally she felt it — the cock tensed, the balls drew up, the veins swelled harder.

  — Take it!

  Drake grabbed her by the hair and impaled her head straight onto the huge shaft.

  Her throat expanded — magic helped — and she took it to the base. Her nose pressed into his pubes, eyes rolled back. A stream of semen poured out — thick, hot, endless. She swallowed convulsively, but some came out through her nose — white threads ran down her face. She was choking, tears flowing, but receiving the strongest pleasure — the tattoo flickered, amplifying every pulse of bliss, making her pussy clench around emptiness.

  Finally he pulled out his cock.

  Her face was covered in semen, sweat, saliva — tongue lolling out, eyes half-closed, expression of complete submission and dumb bliss.

  — Well… I think a week will be enough… — Drake growled, voice low and satisfied.