He was standing at a street sign, the letters scintillating with arcane as they transitioned across the plaques and faded in a shimmer, only to appear again moments later. It was late evening; the lights of the avenue had changed in scheme to more passionate shades as nightlife carried on in the nearby venues. An argument barked and echoed in further up the hill, and seductive murmurs and laughter sounded from a nearby alley. He was inebriated, leaning against the signpost; he was so heavy.
Her fluid figure came around from the other side of the post, the night in her hair and laughter in her eyes.
“I am going to burn, being so close to you,” he whispered to her, drawing close and inhaling her aura.
“Perhaps you are the flame,” she replied. Her fingertips skipped feather-light over his sternum.
He brushed his mouth against hers, tenderly. She pressed her mouth to his with more surety, more promise. He melted into her, eager to pour as much as she thirsted for.
Pain replaced his pleasure, and his would-be lover dissipated.
BETRAYAL, she seethed, crippling him. You are MINE. She has abandoned you.
“Yes, Mistress. Please, forgive me,” he sobbed with twin agonies as the bonds around him also burned and constricted.
Never dream of her.
“Never, Mistress. Never again.”
You need guidance - come. We begin.
“Please, Mistress,” he whimpered. “Please-”
You must be corrected.