"Zenos... Please... What are you trying to do to me..." begged the poor girl beneath the blonde, squirming.
"Be still."
As the Viceroy's words hung in the air, he traced the length of the dragoness' neck with a trail of soft, deliberate kisses. Each touch sent shivers through her, and Mavislin couldn't stop herself from squirming, her breath catching with every brush of his lips.
His body pressed firmly against hers, pinning her delicate frame beneath him. She felt the weight of his presence, a heady mix of dominance and desire, and knew she had no choice but to still herself or risk being overwhelmed by his strength.
Mavislin's mind swirled, her thoughts clouded with a growing, undeniable lust. She bit her lip, desperately trying to keep her composure, to suppress the sounds that threatened to spill from her mouth.
But when Zenos's tongue flicked against the sensitive skin of her neck, then trailed to her ear, a soft gasp escaped her lips, breaking the silence between them. The sensation was intoxicating, an electric jolt that sent her pulse racing and her resolve crumbling.
She couldn't resist him any longer; the pleasure of his touch was too much, too overwhelming. Mavislin's breath hitched, her mind slipping further from her grasp as the world around her faded, leaving only the tantalizing closeness of her captor.
In that moment, she was lost to him completely, surrendering to the fire that burned between them. But she wasn't a First Seat for nothing, as she quickly regained a bit more sense to speak with the Viceroy.
"Please... Why are you..." pleaded Mavislin, with a few droplets of blood trickling down her lip when she bit down too hard.
"I told you once before—you are my prisoner, bound by my will and subject to my every whim. Your defiance, your insolence in straying from my side, and the audacity to let one of your underlings breach my domain—these transgressions will not go unnoticed."
"Do not forget, this is my palace, my realm, and within these walls, nothing escapes my sight. Every shadow, every whisper belongs to me. Remember your place, for I will not tolerate such insolence lightly," bellowed Zenos as he pulled his head away from Mavislin's neck.
Once he caught sight of the blood on the side of her mouth, the Viceroy smirked and promptly licked it clean, with his tongue coming dangerously close to her pale lips.
Her soft whimpers were like a symphony to his ears, each sound fueling his relentless desire as he continued his sensual assault on her neck.
His lips danced along her skin, occasionally catching her earlobe between his teeth in playful nibbles that sent jolts of pleasure through her. Mavislin's heart raced as she fought against the rush of sensations, desperately searching for a way out of her predicament.
Her mind was a whirlwind of defiance and desire, each warring for control as she strained against him.
In a bold attempt, she tried to lift her knee, aiming to throw Zenos off balance. But her effort only brought a deep, dark chuckle from him—a sound that resonated with a mixture of amusement and dominance.
He swiftly countered, tightening his grip on her wrists, pinning her more securely beneath him. The heat of his body against hers was intoxicating, a magnetic pull that made her struggles feel both futile and thrilling.
Mavislin's breaths came in ragged gasps as her resistance faltered, her senses overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, the sheer presence of him. The more she fought, the more he seemed to enjoy it, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint that made her pulse quicken.
She was caught in a tempest of her own making, teetering between surrender and rebellion, her body betraying her resolve with each shiver, each unbidden moan.
And as Zenos loomed over her, his every touch a reminder of his dominance, Mavislin realized she was losing herself in the very thing she swore to resist.
"You are mine now, so I will have the upper hand."
Zenos's words sent shivers down Mavislin's spine, and her body went limp against him. The battle with Solaris had left her drained, barely able to stand, let alone resist the Viceroy's hold.
His touch was a punishing mix of force and pleasure, each movement deliberate and overwhelming.
Mavislin's breaths were ragged, her stamina nearly gone, and now she teetered on the edge of losing herself completely. She was sure she'd either pass out from the dizzying rush of sensations or be crushed under the weight of his relentless grip.
Her world narrowed to the heat of his touch and the heavy thud of her heartbeat, and in that moment, she was utterly and completely at his mercy.
The Viceroy smiled as he knew his little dragoness was starting to come undone.