Establishing the Hierarchy

Power was something you had only begun to understand. Though your growth had been rapid in the grand scheme of things, your abilities had always trickled in—gradual, measured, controlled. This was nothing like that. What you felt now was a surge, an overwhelming flood of energy crashing through your very being. You could sense it; your transformation was complete. You were complete. A missing piece you had never known existed had finally slotted into place, filling you with an intoxicating euphoria.

Around you, the coven of witches knelt in awe and expectation. The initial wave of power that had erupted from you when the contract was sealed had left them breathless, bodies trembling from its sheer ****. You focused, and suddenly, you could see them—ethereal strands of magic stretching from your chest, weaving into each of theirs, binding them to you. An eternal chain.

You let the silence hang, reveling in your newfound existence before Elara, the leader of the coven, found her voice.

“Asmodeus?” she whispered, her voice quivering between exhaustion and excitement.

Your gaze slid toward her, slow and deliberate. A mere thought sent a pulse of energy through the room, and the weight of your presence pressed upon them like a divine ****. The witches gasped, their bodies instinctively responding, writhing in pleasure from the mere aura you exuded.

“Asmodeus…” Elara whimpered, her naked form shivering beneath your stare.

You reached forward, fingers curling around the invisible tether linking her soul to yours. A simple pull was all it took for her to crawl toward you, her breath hitching as she gazed up, waiting, wanting.

“Look at me, Elara.” Your voice was both alluring and commanding. “Who gave you permission to speak my name so casually?”

A shudder ran through her, anticipation glistening in her wide eyes. You lifted her effortlessly with unseen hands, her petite frame weightless in your grasp.

“From now on, you will address me with respect.” Your grip on the chain tightened slightly, enough to make her gasp.

“We are not equals. You are mine—a willing vessel for my pleasure, a devotee of my power.” Your lips curled into a smirk as her pupils dilated with pure desire. “When you speak to me, you will call me Master.”

Elara trembled, a soft moan slipping past her lips as your magic flooded through her, filling her with warmth, with want. “Y-yes, Master,” she breathed, her thighs pressing together as need overtook her.

“Good girl.”

You traced a clawed fingertip over the glowing runes adorning her abdomen. The moment you made contact, her entire body arched, goosebumps rising across her pale skin. A strangled cry tore from her throat as pleasure surged through her so intensely that she collapsed against you, panting.

Your grin widened as you turned your gaze toward the others, who still knelt before you in reverence. Their bodies glistened with sweat, their eyes glassy with lust. You extended your power outward, weaving through them, coaxing, enticing.

“Remember this moment,” you murmured, releasing another pulse of energy—thick, intoxicating, irresistible. The witches cried out in unison, their bodies overcome as waves of pleasure rolled through them. Their cries became a symphony, a chorus of devotion, and the sound made you throb with satisfaction.

You turned back to Elara, lifting her effortlessly so that she straddled your lap, she gasped as she felt the heat of you pressing against her.

“M-Master…” she gasped, already breathless. “Are you going to fuck me?”

You ran a hand along her thigh, savoring the way she quivered beneath your touch. “Is that what you want, little witch?”

Her lips parted, her body betraying the answer before she could even speak. “Yes,” she whispered, pressing against you. “Please.”

You chuckled, dark and knowing. “Then beg.”

A flush of crimson spread across her cheeks, but she obeyed, lowering her gaze as she whimpered, “Please, Master. Make me yours.”

You used the soul chain to prop her up. You placed her so that she had her back to you, and she was straddling your engorged member. A flash of your will, and your cock grew and expanded before splitting in two, and forming two separate organs. Both flared and twitched underneath the dripping snatch of the witch. Elara stared wide-eyed, looking back to you with fear in her eyes.

“Master, I don’t think I can.” She pleaded, her voice riddled with doubt.

“Don’t worry, little witch. One is for your ass.” You replied with a hint of a sadistic glee to your tone. You reveled in her reaction–a tangled web of anticipation, arousal, and fear. You lifted her up to allow both heads to find their mark. While the one at the entrance to her pussy needed no support, the one pressing against her asshole spewed slimy precum to lubricate her.

“Master, wait! I’ve never done this before! Please be gentle!” She pleaded, out of the fog of lust temporarily at the prospect of being reamed in both holes abruptly.

“Quiet, toy.” You cooed into her ear. “I’ll play with my things how I wish.”

Every word sent shivers through her. Instincts took over, and you grabbed the remaining soul chains in the room. You poured energy and lust through them and called out, “Iuncturam voluptas!”

The women in the room gasped as the spell left your lips. You pressed your heads against Elara’s holes once more, and watched as each woman shared in the sensation. A sadistic grin crept across your devilish face. Then, you thrust forward in a steady, unrelenting manner.

You made no effort to go slow as Elara had requested. Instead, you opted to push the full length of both her ass and pussy in a singular powerful thrust. You watched as Elara’s eyes bulged, and she released a silent scream. Her pussy convulsed and tightened as she squirted spectacularly onto the floor. All of the witches appeared to be in a similar state as the air filled with the familiar stench of sex–thick, humid, and sour.

“Did you come already?” You asked Elara, holding her head up for support. The mousy little woman looked back at you with a glazed-over expression of exhaustion and lustful release, her mouth agape, and her tongue hanging loosely from her mouth. She wasn’t able to respond, but that didn’t matter.

With the spell in effect, you felt the combined reactions of all six women who were now your sex slaves. They had devoted themselves to you willingly, and so you intended on treating them to the pinnacle of pleasure. Without regard to their composure or rest, you began thrusting into Elara, who you had impaled on your cocks. Every thrust was met with a guttural scream and a fresh orgasm. You continued until you were ready to cum. You weren’t sure if she could hear you anymore–the drooling, sputtering mess of a woman you were pleasuring, but you spoke regardless.

“Elara, I remember our bargain. You want to be a devil like me? Serve me well. Be the best cock sleeve you can, and I will make you in my image. If you understand that, then prepare this sloppy pussy.”

“P-please…mas…ter…fill…m-me…” She barely managed.

You picked up the pace, shifting from slow full-length thrusts to quick prods against her womb. The women around the room were in various states of distress. They moaned out like beasts in heat.

Finally, your climax was coming. The anticipation of inevitable euphoria spurred you on until you exploded inside of the delirious witch. More and more of your essence flooded her insides, causing her stomach to bloat slightly.

“Sss…so…f-full…” Elara managed.

After emptying yourself completely, you extracted your spent cocks from Elara’s quivering holes. Cum oozed out of her as she gasped, fighting for air. You gently lowered her to the floor onto her soft ritual robes. You staggered back, still reeling from the release. Your twin cocks reformed into one once more. Looking over your good works, another thought crept into your head.

“Slaves.” You said with regal authority that would have made Morgana proud. “You’ve dirtied your master. Come and clean me up.”

All the witches rose to their hands and knees, bodies trembling with lasting aftershocks. You smiled as they, these powerful women you didn’t even meet before today, crawled like dogs toward you. They gathered around, trying desperately to find a place to serve. It was Rose who grabbed first, clamoring to lick the underside of your dripping head. Her olive skin was covered in sweat, and her dark brown eyes looked at you with reverace. Vivi, the younger blue-haired woman, wasted no time assisting her by gripping your shaft and stroking your cock in a tight grip. You felt as she worked the dregs of cum into Rose’s waiting maw. Lilith, the auburn-haired nightclub owner, began sucking on one of your balls as if it was delicious. Her hand was viciously rubbing her pussy while she did so. Ivy, the busty woman who seemed the least resistant to pleasure, began gently licking the fluids on your thigh. Each of them engaging in your clean up and pleasure as if it was their favorite activity.

Selena, the oldest and arguably the most influential of the coven had hung back, seemingly resistant to your commands. She noticed you look at her expectantly, which caused her to bite her lip, stand and walk to you. She paused for only the briefest of moments right next to you. You thought that she might try to kiss you, but then she walked passed. She came around behind your back, knelt, and placed her perfectly manicured hands on your ass cheeks. Before anything could register, the refined CEO you had seen in the dossier thrust her face forward, licking your asshole with vigor. She moaned the second she started, and you felt incredible pleasure any time she thrust her tongue into you.

The level of depravity–the submission of these women brought you to orgasm once more. You watched as the intoxicated witches began crawling over each other trying to drink more of your semen, even going so far as to lick the excess off each other’s bodies.

You felt good. You felt divine.