He plans to keep Aaralon. Permanently.

Aaralon curls up slightly, exhausted, at the base of the black stone throne. Rahad, up above him, glances down at his servant on the floor and shifts his foot to the right. Just for kicks, he repeatedly, lightly pushes the mage's face to and fro with the edge of his hoof, chuckling whenever Aaralon absentmindedly tries to push it away.

But, soon, this innocent torment grows old for the demon prince. He brushes his clawed fingers together in a single cool, clean snap. At the sound, Aaralon's collar commands him to rigidly snap to attention, sitting up his knees and staring up at his master with wide eyes. Rahad chuckles idly to himself and lifts one of his legs up to rest on the armrest of his throne, leaving his massive, uncut cock and heavy, dark-furred balls mere inches away from the estranged wizard's nose. After another snap, Aaralon is commanded to lean forward and begin licking and sucking and nibbling everywhere, from the base of Rahad's furry taint to the pre-dripping tip of his demonic manhood. The youthful mage is soon surrounded with the taste, smell, and sensation of his hellish master.

It's all brought to an end with another snap. Aaralon pulls away and returns to his obedient kneeling position. At this point, he's slowly beginning to regain his full mental faculties- and is rapidly growing concerned with just how, exactly, he's going to get out of this mess. The collar planted around his neck seemingly grants Rahad control over his every bodily movement... but perhaps he'll be able to put together a quick incantation. He just needs to catch the demonic prince off guard.