He makes you ask for it

He withdraws his fingers from your dripping slit, and you *whimper* at the loss, your hips bucking involuntarily toward where his hand had been. The imp chuckles darkly, bringing his glistening digits to his lips and tasting your essence with a satisfied hum.

"*Delicious*," he purrs, his crimson eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. "The transformation took *beautifully*. You're going to be *perfect* for what I have in mind..."

You shift on the bed, still adjusting to the alien sensations of your new form. Your tail swishes behind you- *when did you learn to move it?*- and the heart-shaped tip brushes against your thigh, sending unexpected sparks of pleasure through your nervous system. You gasp, and the sound comes out *breathy* and *feminine* and *needy*.

"Stand up," your master commands, sliding off the bed with fluid grace. "Let's see how well you can manage those new legs of yours."

You obey without thinking, rolling onto your hands and knees first- the movement feels *natural* somehow, like you've done it a thousand times before- and then pushing yourself upright. Your center of gravity is *completely wrong*. You wobble dangerously, your obsidian hooves clicking against the hardwood floor as you struggle to find your balance. Your breasts- *small but undeniably present*- shift with each movement, their weight unfamiliar and distracting.

The digitigrade structure of your goat legs requires you to stand differently, your weight distributed forward on the balls of your feet- or rather, on your *hooves*. The white fur covering your legs from mid-thigh down is impossibly soft, and you can't help but run your hands over it, marveling at the texture.

"*Focus*," the imp snaps, though there's amusement in his voice. "You'll have plenty of time to explore your new body later. Right now, we need to establish some *ground rules*."

You force yourself to stop touching your legs and look up at him. He's still significantly taller than you now- you can't be more than four and a half feet tall, if that- and his muscular frame radiates authority and power. Your horns feel heavy on your head, curving back from your temples in elegant spirals that you can *sense* but not see.

"Rule one," he begins, circling you slowly like a predator assessing its prey. "You exist to *serve*. Your pleasure, your satisfaction, your very *purpose* is derived entirely from pleasing me and whoever else I designate. Understood?"

"Y-yes, master," you breathe, and the words feel *right* on your forked tongue.

"Rule two: You will *never* refuse a command. Your body has been designed to crave submission, to *need* it like mortals need air. Disobedience will cause you physical pain- not as punishment, but as a natural consequence of going against your fundamental nature."

As if to demonstrate, he stops in front of you and says, "Resist the urge to kneel."

Immediately, you feel it- a *wrongness* spreading through your limbs, an uncomfortable pressure building in your chest. Your legs tremble with the effort of staying upright, and within seconds the discomfort escalates to genuine *pain*. You last maybe ten seconds before you collapse to your knees with a desperate sob, your hooves folding beneath you.

The relief is *instantaneous*. The pain vanishes, replaced by a warm, pleasant sensation that makes you shudder with something dangerously close to orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair and scratching gently between your horns. The touch sends *electricity* down your spine, and you lean into it shamelessly, a purring sound rumbling from your throat that you didn't know you could make.

"Rule three," he continues, still petting you. "Your body is *mine*. Every hole, every curve, every sensation- it all belongs to me. I can lend you out, trade you, use you however I see fit. You have no say in the matter, and you *won't want one*."

There's a distant part of you- some tiny, fading ember of whoever you used to be- that recognizes this should *horrify* you. That you should be screaming, fighting, trying to escape. But that ember is drowning in an ocean of *need* and *devotion* and *rightness*, and it gutters out almost as soon as you notice it.

"I understand, master," you whisper, nuzzling against his thigh.

"Rule four: You will address me as Master, Lord, or Sir. You will refer to yourself in whatever degrading terms I choose. Currently, you are my *imp whore*, my *fuck-toy*, my *cock-sleeve*. These are not insults- they are *accurate descriptions* of your function."

"Yes, Master," you agree eagerly, the words making your pussy clench with arousal.

He pulls away from you, and you whimper at the loss of contact. He walks over to where his clothes had been discarded- *when did that happen?*- and retrieves something from a pocket. When he returns, he's holding what appears to be a collar made of some dark, gleaming metal that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"This," he says, holding it up for you to see, "is a *binding collar*. Once I place it around your neck, our bond becomes *permanent*. You will be unable to stray more than a mile from me without experiencing excruciating pain. You will be unable to harm me or allow harm to come to me through inaction. And most importantly, I will be able to *feel* your emotions, your arousal, your *need*- and I'll be able to manipulate them at will."

He crouches down in front of you, the collar dangling from his fingers. "This is your last chance to resist, little whore. Once this goes on, there's no going back. You'll be mine *forever*- through this life and whatever comes after. Do you accept?"

You should hesitate. You should think about this. You should-

"*Please*, Master," you hear yourself begging, tilting your head back to expose your throat. "Please collar me. Make me *yours*. I *need* it, I need *you*, please-"

He silences you by pressing two fingers against your lips, and you immediately begin sucking on them, your forked tongue swirling around the digits.

"Such an *eager* little slut," he murmurs approvingly. He withdraws his fingers and opens the collar. The metal is cold against your skin as he fastens it around your neck, and you hear a soft *click* as it locks into place.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then the world *explodes*.

You feel *him*- his satisfaction, his dark amusement, his *hunger*. The bond snaps into place like a physical thing, a tether connecting your soul to his, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you orgasm on the spot, crying out as your pussy spasms and gushes, your tail thrashing wildly behind you.

"*Fuck*," the imp- your *Master*- groans, and you can feel his arousal spike through the bond. "I can feel *everything*. Your desperate little cunt, your empty holes *begging* to be filled, your complete and utter *devotion*..."

He grabs you by the horns- the sensation is *intense*, pleasure and submission flooding your system- and forces you to look up at him. His cock is hard again, jutting proudly from his muscular frame, and your mouth waters at the sight.

"We're going to test your new body *thoroughly*," he promises, his voice rough with lust. "But first, you need to prove you understand your place. Crawl to the center of the room."

You obey immediately, dropping to all fours and crawling across the floor. Your breasts sway beneath you, your tail curves up to display your dripping pussy, and you can feel his eyes on you, *devouring* the sight.

"Stop," he commands when you reach the spot he indicated. "Present yourself. Ass up, face down, tail to the side."

You arrange yourself as instructed, pressing your cheek against the cool hardwood and arching your back to lift your hips high. Your tail curls to the side, fully exposing your glistening slit and the tight pucker of your ass above it. The position makes you feel *vulnerable* and *exposed* and *perfect*.

"This," your Master says, his footsteps approaching from behind, "is the position you will assume whenever I enter a room, unless I've given you other instructions. This is how you *greet* me. This is how you *wait* for me. This is how you *worship* me."

You feel his hand on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, and you moan into the floor.

"You're going to learn to take me in every hole," he continues, his fingers trailing down to tease your entrance. "You're going to learn to beg *properly*. You're going to learn to cum on command and to *deny* yourself release when I forbid it. You're going to become the perfect little fuck-toy."

"*Please*," you whimper, pushing back against his hand. "Please use me, Master. I need it so *badly*-"

"Not yet," he says, withdrawing his touch and making you sob with frustration. "First, you're going to tell me what you are."

"I'm... I'm your imp whore," you gasp out, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"*Louder*."

"I'm your imp whore!" you cry, shame and arousal mixing into an intoxicating cocktail.

"And what is your *purpose*?"

"To serve you! To please you! To be used by you!"

"*Good girl*," he purrs, and the praise sends another wave of pleasure through your body. "Now beg me to fuck you. Beg me to claim your virgin imp whore pussy. *Convince* me that you deserve my cock."

The words pour out of you in a desperate torrent: "*Please*, Master, *please* fuck me, I need your cock so badly, I'm *empty* without it, please fill me, use me, *ruin* me, I'll do *anything*, I'm yours, I'm your *toy*, your *whore*, your *property*, please please *please*-"

He slams into you without warning, and you *scream*.

The sensation is *overwhelming*- pleasure and fullness and *rightness* and a sharp sting of pain as he tears through your virginity in this new form. He doesn't give you time to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace that has you sobbing and moaning and *begging* for more.

"This is what you were *made* for," he growls, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "This is your *purpose*. Taking my cock, milking it, *worshipping* it with your needy little cunt."

"*Yes*!" you wail, your body already building toward another orgasm. "Yes, Master, *thank you*, thank you for using me-"

The pleasure builds and builds, spiraling higher with each thrust, and you can feel through the bond that he's close too, his satisfaction and lust feeding back into your own arousal in a feedback loop that threatens to consume you entirely.

"*Cum*," he commands, and your body *obeys*.

You shatter, convulsing beneath him as the most intense orgasm of your life- of *both* your lives- rips through you. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, and you feel him pulse inside you, flooding your womb with his seed. The sensation triggers *another* orgasm, and then another, until you're not sure where one ends and the next begins.

When you finally come back to yourself, you're collapsed on the floor, trembling and gasping. Your Master is still inside you, his cock softening but not withdrawing, and you can feel his cum leaking out around his shaft.

"*Perfect*," he murmurs, running a hand down your spine. "You're going to be *exactly* what I need."

You manage to turn your head to look back at him, your vision still hazy with afterglow. "What... what do you need me for, Master?"

His smile is sharp and dangerous and full of dark promise.

"There's someone I need to *ruin*," he says, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your ass. "Someone who wronged me *centuries* ago. Someone powerful, protected, *untouchable*- at least through conventional means." His cock twitches inside you, already beginning to harden again. "But *you*, my sweet little imp whore, are going to be my weapon. You're going to seduce them, corrupt them, *destroy* them from the inside out."

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "And when I'm done with them, when they're broken and ruined and *begging* for mercy... *then* you'll understand why I chose *you* specifically for this transformation."

A chill runs down your spine- some last ghost of self-preservation trying to warn you of danger. But it's drowned out by the overwhelming surge of *devotion* and *purpose* that floods through the bond.

"I'll do anything you ask, Master," you whisper, and you *mean* it with every fiber of your transformed being.

"I know you will," he says, beginning to move inside you again. "Now let's continue your *training*. We have a lot of work to do before you're ready..."