It All Started With That Smile

Through the obsidian depths of his eyes, Lurid watched as reflective pupils expanded like hellish portals opening for Satan himself. Her glistening tail rose in answer to his unspoken threats, already bracing herself to hold him in place as she made him face a storm within. The trick to punishing a male who could feel no pain, a male whose nerves had been murdered by abuse and repeated injury had simply given up on coming back and lay mostly dead within his skin. There was a trick to this man that few were privy to, as he snarled, Lurid gave her own maddened laugh. The titans of Mirovis would clash only this once, it was almost ritual for them both, a way to keep them sharp when no other could match their specially honed prowess in battle. Watching her handiwork take root, the beginnings of that madness in him take hold fully. As Lurid snapped forward, so did Alastor, though he was just shy of reaching her. His mask had fallen, she had delved deep in the abysmal labyrinth that was her long-time friend. What did he want from her exactly? Would he like to be curled into a ball and sat upon her lap? Did he want her to make him curl himself into the fetal position as he tried to comfort himself? Did Alastor want his satanic overlord to break him? Or was his game only about physical domination?

To ensure his cooperation, the dame moved her hind paw closer to his hindquarters in answer to what his face now said. That zing of adrenaline spiking through the demonic goddess, dousing her body with the effectiveness of ice water. Her own pupils dilated until the white holographic lavender of her gaze was barely a sliver, the beast of a woman poised herself above the hellish brute in splendid, dark glory. Flexing the claws of her right hind paw, Lurid demonstrated with startling clarity just where the appendage was. The woman was a bitch possessed and Alastor had found her own personal trigger. Insubordination. With a snap of her jaws, Lurid aimed a hard bite at the meat of his cheek. Growling in that deep, yet ghostly sinister display of her own vocal power, the resonance of it surely reverberating within his ribcage with their current proximity. Rage saw her eyes cloud with a red film over her vision, tainting everything with a red halo.

Lurid already had him on the ground, her head pulled back as she lay her weight upon the obsidian and blood heathen. He wished for a full display of her power, the look on his face said everything. With an aim to further wound the male's pride, Lurid moved her paws toward the side of him that was on the ground, digging the blunt edges of her hardened claws dig into the skin to contact the bone and sensitive nerves on his sides. Her laughter this time was low, truly threatening, and one Alastor would recognize as the one she gave those who went one step too far. The devil was pissed that he would even challenge her right to dominate him in such ways. Demanding the male roll to his back, Lurid spoke in a deadly calm voice, eloquence, and command in her dual vocals as she growled and spoke. Her fangs bared even as she hopefully gained purchase on his left cheek, clearly itching to carve his handsome smile into a forever grin. Pushing her claws further into his side, she spoke with an enraged wobble to her dual-toned voice, "Alastor, future Dread Father of the Mirovian Empire, under the Amarix rule…I command you fully submit to me or be marked as an oath-breaker and set upon by myself and Ilyn, who you know is always near." That barely contained rage peaked through as she snarled in his face, her holographic lavender eyes only inches from the deep hell-mouth of his own black gaze as she practically purred his blood-oath to protect her and what was hers.

Lurid stood over him, her nose to his ear, an impatient snarl upon her maw as she raised her tail and hackles, she would plant her weight on him. Waiting for his chest to rise and for him to submit fully to her. Should this be achieved they could go back to their happy reunion, his vow should hold enough for now. Lurid certainly didn't want to fight with him, he had made it all this way and practically made it to her doorstep before she had even known he was there. Once he did what she wanted, Lurid would relax against the steely hardness of his frame. She would let him up, but only after she mentally slapped him back into his place. It seemed her absence had given him more balls than brains, she would fix that. Perhaps he would snap back to himself once he remembered his promise to her, once he remembered the true power she could give him. There was a ringing in her ears, the hum of adrenalized heartbeats humming in her sensitive ears, blood rushing from her own elevated heart rate. This was a nasty business, to have to remind him that she was indeed his queen, to worm her way into his head back to the childhood ritual they were made to partake in. While the formal rites had been painful, yet alluring, their parents bound him to her as a protector. It was the private ritual she invoked now, the one they had held for one another as a renewal of sorts when they understood the weight of their responsibilities.

There had been enough damage done between them, it was time to repair it. Lurid prayed her words got through his haze, it wasn't often she forgot that her words could be weapons. Lashing out had never done them any good. There was a shame in her actions toward the man, but he would have to be reminded of his place somehow. Yes, she was petty enough to pull rank on him. It was a better solution than savaging him any further, she knew he would struggle fiercely and she was ready for it. Come what may.