The throne room echoed with the aftermath of battle — broken stone, glowing cracks, and the sizzling air between holy and hellish magic.
Seraphina, the Radiant Knight, stood panting, her divine armor scorched and fractured, her blade snapped in half.
Lucien hadn't broken a sweat.
"Stubborn thing," he mused, stepping over her shattered sword."But even the sun bows to the eclipse."
With a flick of his fingers, black chains of arcane energy surged up from the floor, binding her limbs mid-air — stretched out, floating, helpless.
The First Crack
Seraphina struggled, sweat dripping from her brow.
"I won't scream," she hissed.
Lucien approached slowly, eyes glinting. "You don't need to."
He reached up and slapped her across the cheek — not just with force, but with magic behind it. Her body jerked, not from pain, but from a shockwave of forced submission the spell embedded in the strike.
A soft gasp escaped her lips — unwilling, shameful.
"There it is," he whispered. "Your body's starting to understand."
Psychological Undressing
Lucien circled her, eyes drinking in the defiant lines of her figure, the holy tattoos, the purity she clung to.
"I'm not going to take you. Not yet," he said softly. "I want you to fall on your own."
He summoned a mirror illusion — a magical projection that displayed visions of her future: herself kneeling, collared, lovingly licking at his boots. Her divine crest had been overwritten with his slave rune.
"I'd rather die," she growled.
He slapped her again — this time across the other cheek, and a red crest flickered on her neck: the start of magical submission branding.
"You'd rather obey," he corrected.
The Slave Court Begins
As Seraphina trembled in silent resistance, the chamber's side doors opened.
The Slave Court had been summoned.
Dozens of Lucien's harem members stood in formation — dressed in silks, chains, some with gleaming piercings and enchanted lingerie. Each bore a unique rank tattoo, denoting their place in his twisted hierarchy.
"Witness," Lucien called out to them, "a divine warrior brought low."
They watched in silence… some jealous, others aroused.
One of the Alphas — Reina — stepped forward, licking her lips.
"Shall I help break her, Master?"
"Not yet," Lucien replied. "She'll earn that honor herself."
The Final Moment
Lucien placed two fingers on Seraphina's forehead and closed his eyes.
A pulse of mind-magic surged through her. Visions flooded her mind — pleasure, shame, pride being stripped away, replaced with something darker… warmer.
Her thighs trembled.
"I'm… not…" she whispered.
But her voice was weak. Her knees buckled even in midair.
Lucien leaned in, whispering:
"You're already mine. The rest is just ceremony."