Establishing the Order of Things

At your command, the coven stirred, each rising in various states of exhaustion. Their bodies bore the marks of the ritual’s intensity, sweat glistening against flushed skin. Ivy, the voluptuous shop owner, seemed the most affected—her disheveled hair clung to her damp skin, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. You had noticed her sensitivity to your magic during the ceremony; either she lacked experience in pleasure or had repressed desires buried beneath years of restraint. Her voice, raw from ecstatic moans, had been a melody that delighted you.

Nearby, Rose slid into tight leather pants, her olive-toned skin still glistening. Her movements were deliberate, yet the bond you shared allowed you to feel the storm of desire she was suppressing. She met your gaze with a blank expression, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her. A single word from you, a mere touch, and she would surrender again.

Elara, by contrast, pulled on a pair of sweats, adjusting her glasses with a casual ease that contrasted with the night’s earlier fervor. Her messy hair framed her flushed face, and you chuckled at the sight.

She looked up, catching your amusement. “What’s funny, Master?” she asked, her tone respectful yet tinged with curiosity.

“I find it amusing that someone so determined to embrace devilhood showed up to an orgy in sweats,” you mused. “You were quite...enthusiastic earlier, yet here you are, looking ready for a quiet night of reading.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, her hands tightening around the waistband of her pants. It was a sight worth savoring—the contrast between her bookish demeanor and the untamed passion you had awakened within her.

Then, at last, Selena Blackwood rose. A striking figure of dominance and control, her long black hair cascaded down her back like silk. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, as she began sliding her stockings up toned legs. Even in the aftermath of indulgence, she exuded power—a woman accustomed to commanding boardrooms and wielding authority over lesser minds.

You observed her with interest, understanding the duality beneath her composed exterior. Beneath the sharp intellect and ruthless ambition, she was a creature of need—one who had been starved of true surrender. She was a depraved masochist. You had seen it in her during the ritual. A woman who was always in control, always leading, yearning for the rare chance to let go. You could also sense a deep feeling of loneliness and longing for companionship. A woman with her accomplishments, probably found it difficult to find a partner at or above her level. There was also time for relationships to consider, given that she was likely a very busy person.

For a moment, your mind drifted elsewhere—to your mother, Abigail Holt, a titan of industry in her own right. A powerful CEO, always poised, always in control. How long had it been since she had allowed herself vulnerability? The thought was uncomfortable, yet it lingered. Perhaps, you now shared an understanding of what it meant to bear the weight of power.

Selena caught you staring. A slight smirk played on her lips before she masked it with her usual impassive expression. She stepped forward with an air of command, closing the distance between you. There was a sharpness in her posture, her arms crossing beneath her ample chest as she tilted her hips. A stance meant to intimidate—yet the bond you shared revealed the truth beneath her facade. She was still aroused, just standing near you. The crossed arms, a way for her to soothe herself from uncomfortable lustful feelings that sought to overwhelm her. Her pheromones screamed out her desire to continue having sex, but she kept up the facade of stoicism.

“Mr. Holt, I need a word before I leave,” she said, her voice firm, practiced.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you let the silence stretch, let your gaze bore into her. Her body betrayed her—a subtle shift in stance, the way her stockinged thighs pressed together as she fought against the desires still coursing through her.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Holt, I—”

“Address me properly,” you interrupted, your voice a smooth command.

Her brows furrowed slightly. “Excuse me?” she asked, irritation flickering in her tone. She was used to people hanging onto her every word, bending to her will.

You took a step forward, letting her feel the difference in power between you. “When you speak to me, you will call me Master or Lord. Do you understand, toy?”

For a moment, her expression twisted in defiance. But then, just as quickly, it changed. A shuddering breath escaped her, her pupils dilating as the words settled into her mind. The hunger in her eyes was unmistakable.

“My Lord Asmodeus,” she finally breathed, her voice softer, edged with something dangerously close to worship.

“On your knees, pig. When you address your superior, you should do so with humility.” You interrupted her again, raising your voice and coursing magic through her. While you weren’t fully into the idea of degrading her, instinct told you that this was the right path towards fulfilling her desire. Those same instincts pushed you to meet her needs.

The other witches in the room had begun to watch the interaction with bated breath. You could tell from their expressions that none of them had ever seen Selena treated in such a way. She bit her lip–first out of reflexive frustration and then with lustful desire.

“I-I apologize, master. Please excuse my rudeness.” She said, getting low and bowing enough that her forehead hit the ground. You spent a moment regarding her with hungry eyes. The difference in her typical attitude and desires was so delicious. You placed a foot on her head as if stepping on her, causing her to shudder.

“I can’t expect a whorish pig like you to understand decorum, so I suppose I can let this slide.” It felt mean in your head, but Selena gasped in delight.

“Now, speak.”

“I would like to discuss security matters with you at my office this week. Would that be acceptable?”

Elara had mentioned Selena would be handling your data and asset protection, using her corporate resources to ensure secrecy. There was a threat out there—someone who had tipped Elara off to investigate you. That danger hadn’t disappeared just because one attempt had failed.

“Very well,” you said, watching her closely. “Arrange a time for me to come in. Have a car prepared to drive me there. I assume, despite your earlier lack of respect, you had the sense to gather my information?”

“Yes, Master. I did. I’ll handle the arrangements personally.”

“Good. Perhaps you aren’t entirely useless.”

You took your foot off her head, preparing to end the bit of acting, but Selena grabbed it.

She lowered her gaze, biting her lip. “Master… I was disrespectful earlier. Should I not be punished?”

The sheer need in her voice was palpable, and the way she glanced at your foot told you exactly what she craved.

You regarded her coolly before extending the foot toward her. “While disciplining you, I had to step on your filthy head. Now, my foot is dirty. Clean it.”

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before lowering herself. She reached out with her hand, but you clicked your tongue in disapproval.

“What are you doing?!” You boomed in mock disgust. “Are you too stuck in your lustful pig mind that you don’t understand the proper way to clean your master’s foot?! Lick. It. Clean.”

A tremor of arousal coursed through her as she obeyed, her tongue trailing against your black and purple skin in reverent strokes. The room was silent save for the sounds of her submission and the barely restrained breaths of the coven watching.

“Good. I like you like that. If only the people who worked for you could see just how disgustingly perverse you are.” The threat caused the sultry woman at your feet to begin to moan. The smell of her arousal filled your nose.

“It seems like having your coven sisters watch will be enough to get a creature like you off…for now.” Selena looked around, noticing the other women watching her be humiliated. The embarrassment spurred her on. You watched as drips of her fluids began to fall onto the floor, her undergarments no longer having the capacity to absorb any more.

You allowed this little game to continue for a moment longer before pulling away. “That’s enough. We’re finished here.”

Selena’s eyes darted up, disappointment flashing across her face. You smirked.

“Don’t worry, my depraved little beast,” you murmured. “Your service isn’t over. You’ll continue pleasing me on the way home. Call for a car.”

A shudder ran through her body at the promise.

With that, you turned to the rest of the coven. “I’ll be contacting each of you soon. I want private meetings with all of you to discuss your individual requests. You may be bound to me, but we made a deal. I’ll see to it that your desires are fulfilled.”

One by one, they acknowledged your words, their eyes lingering on you with longing and anticipation. You had bound them to you, body and soul. And this was only the beginning.