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Isabella tossed and turned on her bed in frustration. She felt cold for the first time in years, and no matter how many down blankets she piled on, she felt covered in chilled water. Isabella sighed and sat up in bed, sensing this would be the 3rd night in a row where she would not sleep. She looked down, and saw Mephistopheles’ pendant hanging from her neck. She slept with the pendant now; as far as she knew, all of Mephisto’s servants did if only for fear of reprisal for missing anything. Mephistopheles. Just thinking the name brought a rush of emotions and thoughts into her head. Her breathing deepened and she blushed as she recalled their encounter several days ago. He had offered to give her deep insight for her preferred element of hellfire, and she eagerly accepted. What Mephisto had failed to mention was the price for this insight. He took his payment out from her body, much to her chagrin. And yet…within a half hour, he had his new plaything mewling like a cat. She quivered as she remembered his warmth, burning her skin lightly at his every touch, making it all the more wonderful for her. Her hand drifted unconsciously downward but she caught herself. She had tried to “take care” of herself every night since and it always ended in failure. Self-pleasure didn’t hold a candle to Mephisto’s ministrations, and she couldn’t seem to finish herself. Even if Mephisto’s attentions were forced and unwanted he could at least do what she couldn’t. Isabella honestly hadn’t thought his desires did or could run towards…that. Especially since her own hadn’t, period. Port Royal’s mage tower had a strict and vigilant policy of no mixed sexes and forced celibacy for all students. She had never known the touch of a man, and now she suddenly felt empty in a way she hadn’t known could. She hated the feeling. She also didn’t know what she could do about it. She couldn’t ask Mephisto for that sort of attention, could she? Even as she thought against it, she was rubbing the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. It felt warm to the touch. “Uh, mister Lord Mephistopheles, sir?” she thought tentatively, unsure as to what his actual title was was. She paused for several seconds, unsure if her message had gotten through. A full minute passed, then several. She grumbled and got out of bed, dressing in her typical shortened mage’s robe. Mephistopheles chuckled as he watched Isabella dress; a fringe benefit of the enchanted pendants he had entrusted to his acolytes. The pendants served as communication devices; he could see them, their whereabouts, and get an idea of how they were feeling as well as listen to them. In return they could contact him. But the pendants also served a more sinister purpose: Control. Mephisto could (and often did) influence his acolytes’ moods and feelings, even going so far as to prevent their bodies from moving, breathing, and similar functions. These were usually forms of punishment, tools to guard against deception and trickery by a rival. In Isabella’s case, it was a function of manipulation, particularly subjugation. Unlike the rest of his acolytes, Isabella had no personal

stake in his dreams; she was essentially a free agent. Mephistopheles felt this to be a breach of security. Isabella could leave the dungeon (she had certainly proven to be a powder keg of emotions) she could bring ruin down on his machinations. So, the genius Mephistopheles set upon making her completely loyal to him. He grinned at his own cunning; using the pendant to stop Isabella from having orgasms was a masterstroke. It paid off as he watched Isabella crept slowly towards the sacrificial chamber, taking steps to avoid being seen by anyone who might be lurking the halls. Isabella opened the door to the altar room, the heavy wooden door creaking as it opened. She peered inside, nervous for a reason she wasn’t quite sure of. She closed the door and stepped up to the altar, the ritual knife clutched in her hand. She pulled back the sleeve of her robe and cut a neat line along her forearm, letting the blood drip onto the altar. There was a flash of fire and a burst of heat and Mephistopheles rose out of the pooled blood on the altar, barely avoiding bumping his head on the ceiling. Isabella’s jaw dropped as he appeared before her, and she knelt before him as he stepped off of the altar. “Master Mephistopheles, sir.” She said, still kneeling. “Arise, acolyte.” Said Mephisto, his voice a smooth baritone. Isabella complied and stood. “Now, why have you summoned me, Isabella?” he said. “As if I didn’t already know”. He thought, smiling inwardly. Isabella stiffened and stood up straight, her bottom lip trembling as she began to make her request. “S-sir, I wish to make a personal offering to you…” she began, her voice going quieter as she spoke. Mephisto put on a confused face, disguising his glee and feigning ignorance. “A personal offering? But child, there is nobody here but you and I.” he said in a placating tone as if to correct a child of a simple spelling error. He watched her lip tremble and her body move uncomfortably as she danced around what she truly desired. “I am…um…that is to say…I would like to offer myself to you, sir.” She said shrinking away from him as she finally got out with it. Mephisto looked deep into her eyes, boring into her very soul…and burst out in raucous laughter. Isabella made a small noise of confusion as Mephisto’s laughter subsided. Mephisto looked at her expectantly. “Ah, well, that was a good joke. Now, where is this offering, acolyte?” he said, this time all business. Isabella muttered for a few seconds and shook her head. “There…that was the offering. You wanted me several nights ago, and now I’m so cold I can hardly stand it... and you…you took my virgi-“she said, cut off by Mephisto, who grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. “Listen here acolyte,” he said, spitting out the word with venom. “If I decide I want you, then I shall have you and there is nothing you can do about it. But for you to try to throw yourself upon me…this is a serious breach of protocol, child. Not to

mention a huge assumption on your part. Why would you assume I wanted you a second time? Be grateful I do not take any harsh action.” he said, turning his back on Isabella, wrapping his cloak around himself and disappearing in a flash of hot flame.

Isabella fell to her knees as Mephistopheles left her in the sacrificial chambers, clutching her head, reeling from the veritable explosion of emotions. Confusion, frustration, anger, grief, anger, and then suddenly anger was all she felt. Her cherubic face contorted into a frenzied expression as she dug into the pockets of her robe, grasping the rounded vial inside. She pulled out the flask of alchemist’s fire with a crazed look in her eye. She uncorked the bottle, listening to the opening hiss and spark as the stuff came in contact with the air. “He wants an offering does he? I’ll give him a goddamn son of a bitching OFFERING…” she muttered through grit teeth, her right eye twitching slightly. She raised the vial above her head, and began to tip the contents over herself…

Mephisto watched Isabella uncork the stopper and try to set herself aflame. He smiled, snapped his finger once, and Isabella fell into a trance, holding perfectly still. He then snapped his ring finger, and Isabella disappeared in a flash of light, the alchemist’s fire crashing to the floor in a glorious fireball. He stood up from his scrying crystals, and left the room. Isabella snapped out of her stupor some hour after she had been moved. She woke up as if from a deep sleep, and peered around the room. The first thing she noticed was the humongous bed she was laying in. It had to be at least 11 feet wide and long, covered in silk and velvet and all manner of exquisite cloth. Four large columns, carved from mahogany spiraled upwards, creating the canopy and drapes of the bed, letting long strips of satin hang down, giving any occupants a bit of privacy. Just as she moved to get up, she realized both that she was missing her mage’s robe and that the door out of the bedroom was ajar. Clutching a silk sheet around herself, she cautiously crept over to the door. Suddenly, itflew open, and Mephistopheles stood in front of her. “Ma-me-mafisterpheles!” Isabella blurted out, garbling her words in surprise. “Where am I? Where are my clothes?” she asked, looking around nervously. She had to look almost straight up to see Mephisto’s face from where she stood; he was almost twice her height. The Lord of the Eighth looked down and chuckled. “Well, you sacrificed yourself to me. You are in my abode; I hope it is to your liking. Isabella looked around again, and nodded, pulling the sheet a bit more tightly around her. Mephisto smiled. “You are mine now, little girl. Body and soul. Such was your devotion to me. I am…surprised, I must say.” Isabella made a small noise, as he wrapped an arm around her and walked her out of the bedroom. The next room was a wide multi-

purpose affair, with a full-body mirror about 10 feet tall. He led Isabella to the mirror, giving her a good look of her body, wrapped in a pale pink silk sheet. Isabella clutched the sheet even more tightly around herself as Mephisto stood behind her, preventing her from moving. He made a tut-tutting noise, and tugged the silk sheet away from Isabella’s grip, throwing it on a nearby chair. “Now now Isabella, modesty does not suit you. You must rid yourself of this bashfulness; it’s highly unbecoming to one who follows me and it is a waste of a body as…warm as yours.” Isabella’s face turned a bright red and she tried to look away from herself, ashamed of her own body. Mephisto stooped down and began to lick on her earlobe, causing Isabella to moan for a few seconds before she shut her mouth, biting down on her lower lip to prevent her making that lewd noise again. Her “tormentor” grinned darkly, as he took her chin in his hand and turned her head, forcing her to look at her own body. Isabella resisted, trying to shut her eyes but finding it unable to look away. Mephisto then began to grope her chest, his hands almost burning Isabella’s sensitive breasts as she let out another moan, her knees beginning to buckle and turn in. Mephisto laughed impishly and made her stand up straight, pressing his body against hers. She groaned, unable to contain her libidinous urges as she pressed against him, rubbing her back against his chest. Mephisto licked his lips as he trailed one of his hands down her belly lightly, causing her to quiver. She was very soft and sensitive, as his sharpened fingernails left tiny red lines on her skin as they moved. He fanned his hand along her belly and pressed lightly then continued downward, leaving a red imprint of his hand on her stomach. He reached her pelvis, and began to suckle on her earlobe again, marveling at how ready her body had become just from the few minutes of foreplay. He bit and tugged on her ear playfully, distracting her as he pressed a finger up into her sex. She shuddered and made slightly panicked gasps as he penetrated her. Isabella tried to close her eyes, only to have them reopen through Mephisto’s will. She saw herself in the mirror, the reddened skin on her belly almost matching the rest of her skin now, as Mephisto toyed with her breasts, his pendant hanging between them, swinging slightly as her breasts jiggled from his attentions. With each passing minute, she felt more comfortable in her arousal and Mephisto must have sensed this, for he went down on one knee and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it, adding new depth to her pleasure as he traced his tongue around her areola gently. Her breast felt warm even to him, and as he slid his finger in and out of her, agonizingly slowly he was amazed at how wet she had become. He removed his finger from her hole and rubbed it against his thumb in front of her. “Look how wet you are down there, Isabella. You’ve gotten so aroused. Is this what you wanted to offer to me?” he said. Isabella averted her eyes from his gaze and the mirror and nodded, visibly trembling in shame. He sighed, and turned her around to face him properly. “I am remiss; you would have made an excellent offering, Isabella. However, you are more useful to me alive than as a soul; I cannot

not let you stay here. You shall be brought back to the fortress.” He said letting the statement hang in the air and allowing Isabella make the assumptions. Mephistopheles counted three seconds off in his head. As if by clockwork, Isabella’s face grew pained and she shook her head. “N…No!” she cried out, knowing that defying him could rouse his temper. “I’m not going back! I won’t go back!” she said fiercely, planting her feet. If Mephisto had had proper eyes, he would have rolled them about now. Grabbing her by the shoulder, he pulled her towards him and stared deeply at her. “But surely there must be something I can do to make you listen to me…” he crooned “Isabella, you are a delicate acolyte; but not very subtle. Perhaps I can give you some, shall we say, physical encouragement to obey my commands?” Perhaps I was hasty to deny me to you. If I let you give yourself to me, will you go back and be my loyal acolyte, do my bidding as the lord of hellfire? ” Isabella glanced away from him for a second and biting her lip, nodded.

The door to the bedroom swung open again; Mephisto led Isabella by the hand to the massive piece of furniture he called a bed. Isabella looked around his room with newfound insight, before climbing into the bed, noticing that the bed stayed very warm, and even seemed to heat up as she lay on it. She sunk into the silken pillows and satin covers, sighing in obvious comfort. She turned to Mephisto and bowed her head, quickly moving into a semi-kneeling position as he got into bed alongside her. Mephisto took her by the chin and lifted her head up to look at him. Smiling playfully, he shook his head. “There is none of that here, Isabella. There is no respect to be paid, no protocols to be followed or breached. I will never get angry at what you do here.” He intoned, pulling her onto him and kissing her deeply. “Like I could get angry at her. She may as well be a virgin for all the experience she has, and yet I’ve met priestesses of Aaluran who were less passionate...” He thought to himself, trailing off as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting and wrapping around hers playfully. She broke their kiss and looked at him, gasping for breath slightly. “Uh, whuh…what should I do now, sir?” she asked. Mephisto chuckled at her, causing her to blush indignantly. He grinned and rolled onto the bed, switching their positions. He kissed her cheek and moved downwards, licking her neck gently. He suckled each of her breasts, pulling at her nipple very lightly as he wrapped his arms around her midriff. He trailed his tongue down her stomach, pausing a moment to lick around her naval before proceeding down to her pussy. He lowered his head in between her legs and lay there for a few seconds, spreading her lips apart, causing Isabella to gasp in anticipation. Mephisto stared at her open sex for several seconds, watching her pink, sopping wet pussy pulse gently with desire. He licked his lips and stuck two fingers into Isabella and began to finger her again, using his tongue to tease her clit gently. Sliding his fingers out, he replaced them with his

tongue, savoring Isabella’s delicate taste as he began to thrash his tongue inside of her. Isabella groaned, her breathing growing heavy and ragged as he tended to her, her arousal reaching a fever pitch as she rubbed her breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples and wrapping her legs around Mephistopheles’ head, pressing his face deeper into her sopping gash. He continued his attentions, knowing full well she couldn’t cum unless she removed the pendant. He looked up, sliding his tongue out of her, and stared at her face. Her pupils had dilated, her face was aflame with her now unbound lusts, her mouth curved just slightly into a frown, not only because he had stopped but because she also seemed to know that she should have had some sort of release by now. Snaking quickly back up to level with her, he pressed his body against hers. “Oh my, Isabella. You’ve become so warm and ready. Surely this isn’t the modest little girl that I saw snooping at the door?” he cooed, drawing her into another kiss before she could answer. “His mouth…his body is burning hot…” thought Isabella, realizing she tasted herself on his tongue. She broke the kiss, panting heavily. “Please…please take me, sir…” she gasped out. Her lover raised an eyebrow and smirked, flipping her over again. He sat up against the headboard, bringing Isabella up, straddling his pelvis. “May…may I?” she asked, already rubbing her ass against his manhood. Mephisto nodded, and Isabella brought herself up and leaned back, slowly impaling herself on his hard cock. She made a few very faint sounds as she lowered herself onto him, her dripping wet cunt easing his entrance for her. He grunted as he penetrated her tight almost virginal sex, letting Isabella get there the first time, smiling as much at his own machinating as at the feeling of taking Isabella a second time. He had waited for it for the better part of a week, biding his time and waiting until she was just so before making his move. And by the gods had it paid off; Isabella belonged to him, completely and unequivocally. He licked his lips and let his newfound slave play with his body a mite more, rubbing her breasts as she screwed herself on his dick. Then Mephisto went on the attack, leaning forward and laying Isabella’s back on the bed, pumping into her tight little hole vigorously. Gripping the sheets and wrapping her legs around his waist, preventing him from completely pulling out, Isabella purred and moaned with each thrust, each passing second vaulting her into bliss as she continued to teeter on the brink of orgasm. She reached up and wrapped her arms around him, hanging onto him as he thrust into her, causing her to claw his back and move her body in rhythm with his. “Oh gods, she is ready…” he thought, feeling his seed rise up within him. He shifted back, bringing them both upright as he leaned against the backboard. He licked her earlobe gently and brought his hands up, finding the clasp that held the pendant’s chain together. “My delicate little acolyte, you are ready for my blessing.” He said coolly, getting a delighted moan in response. He unclasped the pendant and let it fall, pressing into her one last time.

Isabella shuddered as he pushed her over the edge, gripping him tightly. Time seemed to extend endlessly as she was flung into orgasmic ecstasy, her hot, sticky juices gushing out onto his lap and the bed, she heard a very loud shout from… somewhere and then realized she was screaming - moaning really - at the top of her lungs. Isabella felt something wet and sticky shoot up into her and fill her with new warmth. Gasping for breath, she realized Mephisto was growling contentedly, not unlike a large animal. He bounced her on his cock a few more times than relaxed, lowering himself into a semi-laying position. He smiled at her, grinning at her expression of satisfaction on her face and also at the intensity of her orgasm. Isabella mewled gently, her head resting on her chest as she drifted off to sleep. Several hours later, she stirred gently, sitting up in Mephisto’s bed…only it wasn’t Mephisto’s bed, exactly. She appeared to be sitting in a scaled down version of it, only able to fit one or two normal sized people on it. She also did not appear to be in Mephisto’s fortress but rather back in her own room, in the Kingdom of Loathing. Throwing on a robe to check, she peeked outside the door and saw Morrigan passing by. With a frown, she closed the door. “That…that jerk! He didn’t even wake me up!” she sulked, kicking her brand new bed and stubbing her foot.