A sad sight...

Heart hammering in your chest, you reach out toward the door's handle - then hesitate, your fingers hovering an inch above the worn brass.

Foolishness! I am the hero that carried the sword - trembling in front of my own room like a naughty novice called in for discipline! Besides - he's in there.

Your heart skips one of its many beats as a chilling thought spikes its way into your mind - what if he's gone? What if - what if Cora - ?

Anxiety and fear for the Imp - your Imp - finally shake you out of your stupor.

The door swings open at your touch and you step forward, looking at the familiar contours of your room with unease and suspicion.

The front room looks much the same as you left it, and a glance tells you the bathing area is empty. Anxiety rising again, you hurry your steps to the inner door, the one leading to your bedroom. Where just hours ago, you were blissfully slurping on that lovely, thick daemon cock - before Ilmara, before Cora...

Rounding the archway you look inside - and almost sag with relief.

A familiar little red-skinned figure is sitting on the bed, facing away from the door so you can't see his grotesque little face.

He's safe!

But your relief is quickly joined by an instinctive sense that something is wrong. The Imp did not turn at your approach, did not rush forward to slam his cock into your all-too eager and tight little ass as was his custom. He remains were he is, hunched over and still as a gargoyle, looking somehow even more diminutive than usual.

"Imp?" you call out hesitantly.

There's no reaction, save for a barely perceptible twitch of his ears.

"Imp?" you call again, stepping into the room then starting to round the bed, "what happen - hey!"

At the sound of your approach, instead of turning to greet you with eager tongue, tail and cock, the little daemon shrinks back, curling away from you.

"Hey! Hey...don't hide from me," you control your anxiety, forcing your voice to be gentle, "what happened?"

You're close enough to touch him now, and you reach out to run your fingers over his thin shoulder. He shudders, then finally turns his ugly, pinched face toward you.

The mournful look carved into his daemonic features is enough to make you whimper in sympathy.

"S-she," the Imp rasps out, "she..."

He doesn't finish, and hangs his head again, but there's no need for more words - you can see it now.

At his crotch, instead of a proud, outsized daemon cock hangs a strange metal contraption, unlike any you've seen before. A tangle cage of metal tightly binds the deamon's wilted shaft, with a prominent padlock securing the devious device.

"I don't believe it," you breathe out. The little key that Cora flashed at you in the hallway immediately comes to mind - and the Imp dispels all doubts.

"Dark-hair come. Comes with other sisters, many, all new. Imp think Fire-hair send present. Stupid, stupid Imp," he mutters, "Imp jump up, and tells Dark-hair to get to sucking. Dark-hair - she trick Imp! And now..." he gestures sadly down at his limp, caged cock, "it's like this. It's never been like this."

You nod in sympathy, rubbing your hand along his scaly red skin to provide what comfort you can.

"Did you," you speak cautiously, "did you sting -?"

Before you finish, the Imp lets out a pitiful whimper and swings his tail around, and you gasp.

A similar cage is wrapped around the end of the Imp's tail, his stinger locked just as securely as his cock.

"That bitch," you breathe out, your outrage tinged with just a hint of respect for Cora's thoroughness, "that absolute bitch."

The Imp whimpers again, and hangs his head lower.