Role reversal

Maeva's moan echoed softly in the chamber—half frustration, half disbelief. Her skin glistened under the magical sconces, every nerve drawn taut as a lute string. The enchanted restraints shimmered faintly, reading every twitch, every pulse, every stutter of arousal that coursed through her bound form. And still, the simulation held her teetering on that aching precipice, denying her with clinical cruelty.

You bastards, she thought, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as the nub beneath her gave another maddening thrum. You coded edging into this.

The tension between her legs became its own heartbeat—constant, rhythmic, impossible to ignore. The straps flexed subtly as her body jerked forward, begging for a deeper grind, for the last blissful push that would shatter her composure and let her tumble into release. But the invisible algorithms only teased, holding her right at the edge like a lover with too much patience.

From the window, the storm had worsened—lightning illuminated the sky, jagged veins of silver that revealed glimpses of the battle below. The dragon had landed, its wings folded into a cathedral of muscle and menace. The knight stood defiant, sword buried in one of the beast’s flanks. Their fight was beautiful, epic, but distant—too distant.

“Godsdammit…” she hissed through clenched teeth, body rocking with futile urgency. The simulation rewarded her movement with a burst of tingling heat, so close to what she craved it made her curse aloud.

Her voice triggered something.

A faint chime. Then a new prompt shimmered to life before her, each glowing word a breathy whisper.

"Override Requested. Switch to Dominant Mode?"

Maeva stilled, lashes fluttering open. Her pupils dilated. Dominant mode? That hadn’t been on the original scenario tree.

A second line faded in beneath it, purring.

"Take control. Make him earn your rescue."

Maeva grinned.

“Oh,” she murmured, the word trembling on her tongue like a spell. “Yes.”

The restraints dissolved like mist, and she fell forward into soft velvet. Her thighs clenched involuntarily as the aching pressure vanished, replaced with a mounting sense of power. She stood slowly, legs unsteady, skin alive with leftover sparks of denied pleasure. The interface pulsed once more—this time opening a character editor with a dark gleam.

Title: Sorceress.

Alignment: Temptress.

Scenario Rewritten: Dragonbreaker’s Bride

Her chamber trembled again—but this time it was hers.

A voice echoed up the stairwell. A grunt of effort. Heavy boots ascending the spiral.

Maeva turned toward the door, golden hair tumbling over one bare shoulder, her body still aching with unresolved lust—but her smile now promised something far more dangerous than helplessness.

The prince was nearly here.

Now it was her turn to play.