It haunts him

Everything she was promised. Clothes, food, a room. The clothes were dresses, of course, not armor or trousers, but otherwise she couldn't complain about the food, nor the comfortable room she was moved to. They had also bound a magic collar around her neck without explaining its cursed properties, but she had little doubt it would **** her if she tried to escape.

At first she was grateful for the nourishment and the rest, for her very soul was fatigued by the trials she had to endure. Then she prayed, because she knew there were many people who needed succor while she was locked like a princess at the top of the tallest tower. Then she exercised, because she grew restless. Why didn't he come to test her again? Did he lose interest on her?

Unberknowest to her, it was a diametrically opposite effect. The Demon Lord was doing little else but spy on her. He watched her eat, bath,exercise... even prayer had a strangely alluring effect when it was her kneeling, her silken sandy lips whispering words only for her beloved Goddess. This was the worst part, he recognized the feeling. Jealousy. Marus was tremendously jealous of the devotion the beautiful paladin gave to her goddess, he would make a fool of himself if he confronted her like that.

Mira laid in her silken beds, wondering how many maidens the Incubus had corrupted in that bed. Did he come with lies? or with blatant truth? Mira circled the aureole of her nipples, imagining how he would approach her. Probably with all his might, spread demon wings, goat legs and a chest she would die for. She would cower in fear, repulsed by his ugliness...

The scenario was taking an unlikely turn. She imagined back home. There was one persistent bard, Maurice, who dogged constantly, trying to woe her with his latest love poem, as if the war was a distant reality. It irritated her sometimes, but it was also flattering, and it was good to know there still were people who thought of her as a woman, a desirable woman. She wondered what it would be like being married to Maurice, but she knew bards weren't the marrying type. 'it is only a fantasy' she told herself, and imagined him coming to her tent late at night. She teased just the entrance of her love mound, while her other hand played more roughly with her breast.

In her imagination, she would be shaken by another defeat, ****. She moaned as her dream partner whispered comfort in her ear. He would say he had a magical kiss, that would erase all her concerns. She wouldn't believe him, but he would swear on his word as a scoundrel "Scoundrel, such a hussy word" Mira said to herself, as she gave Marus another show.

She would kiss her pussy, of course. her index finger mimicked his tongue, the kiss would have a little tongue. More than a little. It would dig deep, looking for her throat. Mira moaned as she thrust her fingers deeper and deeper. "Wasnt it only a kiss?" she and her dream self asked, but the bard would know how to make one kiss last.

Marus watched intently as another sexslave serviced his cock. Usually he would hold off to bring ultimate pleasure to his partner, but he could care less about the dumb slut. There was perfection in front of his eyes, laid in one of his beds, eager to be taken by an able lover.