Delih groaned, her eyelids fluttering open to the harsh sunlight streaming in through the windows. Her head was pounding like a drum, every throb reminding her of the chaos from the night before. She squinted, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was lying on the floor, the cold tiles pressed against her bare skin. A sudden wave of nausea hit her, and as she shifted, she realised with horror that she was sprawled in a pool of her own vomit.
“Ugh… disgusting,” she muttered, pushing herself up, grimacing as the stench hit her.
She stood unsteadily, looking down at the mess with a mixture of disgust and exhaustion. Around her, her friends were scattered in various states of drunken unconsciousness, some curled up on couches, others sprawled across the floor. Empty bottles littered the room, clothes ying about, remnants of the party’s indulgences everywhere. The once vibrant energy of their night had dissolved into a chaotic, nauseating aftermath.
Delih stepped over one of her friends, carefully avoiding a half-eaten tray of snacks on the floor. She ripped off her heels, chucking them aside with a sigh of relief. Her feet ached, her body sore, and all she wanted was something to kill the hangover that was currently making her regret every drink she’d had the night before.
She walked into the kitchen, the tile cool against her feet as she reached for the ingredients she needed for her hangover cure. Her hands moved on autopilot, chopping vegetables and tossing them into a pot, filling the room with the smell of broth as it slowly heated. She leaned against the counter, rubbing her temples as the pounding in her head continued.
“Never again,” she muttered to herself, though she knew she didn’t mean it.
Her thoughts drifted as she stirred the pot, the rhythmic motion almost soothing. Despite the mess of the night and the state of her body, her mind was already pnning the next party. Maybe something smaller, more intimate this time. Something a little less… chaotic. She could invite just a few friends, maybe take the night in a different direction. More wine, less of the other stuff. And definitely no strangers passing out on her doorstep this time. She smirked at the thought.
But as she let her mind wander, a strange feeling gnawed at her. It took her a moment to remember—the woman they’d found st night. The one they’d dumped in the basement. Delih’s brow furrowed slightly, the memory coming back in pieces. They’d cleaned her up, tied her to a post, then… well, the rest of the night had happened. She hadn’t thought about her since.
Her gaze flickered toward the door leading to the basement, but the thought passed quickly. She was too tired, too hungover to care about some random stranger at the moment.
Instead, she focused on the soup; the steam rising from the pot, promising at least a small break from the pounding in her head.
Delih slurped the st of her soup, the warmth helping to settle her stomach and clear her foggy head. She rinsed the bowl in the sink, feeling a bit more like herself—still tired, still a little groggy, but much more in control. She gnced toward the basement door again, curiosity gnawing at her as memories of the night before filtered back. The woman. They had left her down there.
Sighing, she moved toward the door, her hand resting on the doorknob. She hesitated for a moment before twisting it and opening the door just a crack. The cool air from below crept up the stairs, but what hit her most was the sound—a deep, guttural breathing. It sent a shiver down her spine, a low, primal growl almost too faint to catch. It was wrong. It sounded… animalistic.
Her heart skipped a beat, and panic seized her.
“What the hell…?” she whispered, her eyes wide as she instinctively smmed the door shut. Her pulse raced, her mind immediately scrambling for an expnation. A monster? No. No, it couldn’t be. She was just hungover, her senses pying tricks on her. It had to be the drugs, the leftover haze from the wild night. Hallucinations, nothing more.
She leaned against the closed door, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Whatever it was, she wasn’t dealing with it right now. She shook off the unsettling feeling and turned on her heels, heading for the bathroom.
The hot water of the shower cascaded over her skin, washing away the grime and the sickening residue from st night. The vomit, the alcohol, the sweat—it all swirled down the drain, and with it, the memories of her humiliating wake-up on the kitchen floor. She scrubbed herself clean, paying extra attention to her hair, making sure there wasn’t a trace of anything left. She thered herself in soap, feeling the warmth chase away her fear and bring back her sense of control.
As the water worked its magic, her mind wandered back to the woman in the basement. What had happened to her?
Was she still bound, still unconscious?
The strange breathing echoed in her thoughts again, but Delih pushed it aside. She’d deal with that ter. She had herself to take care of first.
After stepping out of the shower, her skin glowing and clean, she wrapped herself in a towel, patting her long dark hair dry. With each stroke of the towel, her confidence returned. By the time she slipped into her new lingerie—a white, strappy set that hugged her curves perfectly—she felt like her old self again. The many crisscrossing lines of fabric traced intricate patterns across her body, highlighting the soft swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips.
She admired herself in the mirror, smiling as she took in the sight. The set was gorgeous, fttering in all the right pces. It was daring but tasteful, sensual but elegant. She turned slightly, her fingers trailing over her stomach, tracing the lines of fabric that led down to her hips. She felt sexy, powerful, and in control.
Her eyes lingered on her reflection. She couldn’t deny that she loved the way she looked. This new lingerie set was perfect. The white against her skin, the way it hugged her body—she was in love with the way it made her feel.
Delih swirled the champagne in her gss, her white nails gleaming as she admired the fresh coat of polish. It matched the sleek white heels she’d slipped on, completing the vision of elegance and control she had crafted for herself. With her confidence restored, she decided it was time to check in on their unexpected guest downstairs.
Her friends were still sprawled across the living room. She stepped over them with ease, champagne in hand, as she made her way to the basement door. This time, as she opened it and made her way down the stairs, there was no strange growling sound, no eerie noise to unsettle her. The basement was quiet, the air cool against her skin as she reached the bottom.
There she was—the woman they had abandoned the night before, still bound to the pole, but wide awake now. Her gold eyes locked onto Delih, watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Delih smirked, her lips curling as she took in the sight of the woman who had, against all odds, survived the night.
“Well, at least you’re up,” she said casually, taking a slow sip of her champagne. “I thought I’d find you dead down here.”
The woman’s eyes never left Delih, her gaze lingering on every curve, every inch of skin exposed by the daring lingerie set. There was something predatory in her eyes, something that made Delih feel like she was being hunted despite her confident exterior.
Delih’s smirk deepened as she noticed the woman’s gaze, and with a pyful cruelty, she kicked the woman’s legs lightly to grab her attention.
“You looked half-dead when I found you,” Delih continued, crouching down to meet the woman’s gaze on a more intimate level. Their faces were close now, and Delih could see the gold flecks in the woman’s eyes, the faint pulse in her neck. “So, what happened? Why were you so battered up? Now, you barely have a scratch on you.”
The woman didn’t answer immediately, but her eyes softened slightly as she spoke. “Thank you for bringing me into your home… and fixing me up.”
Delih scoffed, leaning back slightly, clearly unimpressed with the gratitude. “Don’t ftter yourself. We almost forgot about you entirely.”
But there was something else in the woman’s eyes, something darker, as she continued to watch Delih closely. Then, her voice, low and rough, almost teasing, broke the silence. “You smell nice.”
Delih raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden change in tone. She took another sip of her champagne, feeling the warmth of the alcohol hit her. “Do I now?”
The woman’s gaze never wavered, and despite the fact that she was still bound, her presence was commanding, almost unnerving. “Yes. Sweet… like danger wrapped in silk.”
Delih’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her smirk in pce, standing up and looking down at the woman with an air of superiority. She enjoyed the control she had, even though there was something about this strange woman that felt… dangerous.
“What’s your name?” Delih asked, her voice still pyful but ced with curiosity.
The woman’s gold eyes glimmered as she spoke, her voice a low rumble that sent chills down Delih’s spine. “Call me Lyra.”
Delih’s heels clicked softly against the floor as she stepped away from Lyra, moving to switch on the light. The basement flooded with a dim glow, revealing more of the woman tied to the pole. Now, Delih could fully take in Lyra’s form. Her body was rger, more muscur, each curve and muscle finely sculpted. She had the build of someone strong, someone used to dominating, not submitting.
Delih raised a brow in curiosity as she walked back, her eyes raking over Lyra’s body, assessing her as if she were a prize on dispy. Even now, bound to the pole, Lyra’s golden eyes stayed fixed on her, intensely. But as Delih stopped in front of her, Lyra’s gaze dipped lower, settling on the exposed part of her core visible beneath the delicate lingerie.
A smirk spread across Delih’s lips. She could feel the weight of Lyra’s eyes on her, the hunger in her gaze. Teasingly, she ran a hand over her core, knowing exactly where Lyra’s attention was locked. It was like a game to her—watching this person, once beaten and helpless, now captivated by her body.
With a deliberate slowness, Delih lifted one leg and stepped over Lyra’s, positioning herself so that her legs straddled Lyra’s thighs. She crouched down, hovering over her, taking her time as she lowered herself until their faces were close once again. She could feel the warmth of Lyra’s body beneath her, the tension in the air crackling as their gazes met—Lyra’s still locked onto her, drinking in every detail of her form.
“Enjoying the view?” She purred, her voice thick with amusement.
Lyra didn’t respond with words, but the way her eyes darkened, the sharpness in her breath, told Delih everything she needed to know. The bance of power between them shifted with every subtle movement, every second of unspoken tension.
Delih leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of Lyra’s ear as she whispered, “You like what you see, don’t you?”
She could feel the heat radiating from Lyra’s body, the barely restrained energy. A dangerous, primal force lurked just beneath the surface, and the closer Delih got, the more intoxicating it became.
Lyra’s lips parted, her breath hitching as Delih lingered, teasing, taunting. This was her game to py, and she was determined to see just how far she could push before the beast in front of her snapped.
Lyra’s eyes dropped to her hand, now free from the rope, and a dangerous smirk curled her lips as she slowly lifted it, her fingers brushing against Delih’s thigh. The touch was gentle at first, almost testing the boundaries, but the intensity in her gaze never wavered as her hand moved. Delih, still crouched over her, watched with narrowed eyes, the smirk on her lips faltering for just a moment as Lyra’s fingers inched closer to her exposed core.
When Lyra’s fingertips finally made contact, gliding against the slickness between Delih’s thighs, she heard the sharp intake of breath from above her. Delih’s body betrayed her, a soft sound escaping her lips, and Lyra’s eyes darkened, her confidence growing as she reveled in the reaction.
“I can smell you here,” Lyra whispered, her voice rough and husky as her fingers traced slow circles, teasing Delih’s most sensitive spot. “You want me.”
Delih’s frown deepened, her eyes fshing with anger, but the pleasure that pulsed through her body weakened her resolve. She couldn’t control the shiver that ran down her spine, or the way her breath hitched as Lyra’s fingers pressed just a little harder. That small sound, the one she hadn’t meant to make, escaped her lips again—a soft moan that sent a thrill through Lyra’s chest.
“You’re wrong,” Delih hissed, but the protest in her voice cked its usual sharpness. Her hands reached for Lyra’s shoulders, as if to push her away, but the power shift between them had already begun.
Lyra’s fingers continued their slow, tormenting movements, each touch precise, designed to drive Delih wild. Her gold eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she saw the tension in Delih’s body, the struggle between control and desire pying out in real-time. She could feel Delih’s hips begin to subtly move in rhythm with her touch, betraying her cim of indifference.
“No,” Lyra growled softly, her voice like a low rumble of thunder. “I’m not wrong.”
Delih’s fingers dug into Lyra’s shoulders, her breath coming quicker now. The game she had started was slipping from her control, and she knew it. But there was something thrilling about it—this unexpected turn of events, this reversal of power. Lyra was dangerous, unpredictable, and she couldn’t deny how intoxicating that was.
“You should be afraid of me,” Delih whispered, her voice shaky but defiant.
Lyra leaned closer, her lips brushing the curve of Delih’s neck, her breath warm against her skin. “I’m not afraid of you, Delih. You should be afraid of me.”
Her words sent a shiver down Delih’s spine, and for the first time, she felt a pulse of fear mixed with the undeniable heat coursing through her. Lyra’s fingers moved faster now, her touch confident, ciming every inch of Delih’s body as if it were her right.
Delih’s resistance crumbled, her head tipping back, lips parted in a soundless moan as the pleasure surged, overwhelming her senses. Lyra’s grip tightened, pulling her closer, asserting her dominance as she whispered against Delih’s ear.
“Let go.”
Lyra’s chuckle filled the dimly lit basement, low and rumbling, as she abruptly stopped her fingers just as Delih was on the brink of release. The sudden loss of pleasure made Delih whimper, her body trembling as her mind tried to grasp what had just happened. Her golden eyes bore into Lyra, the frustration and need evident in her gaze.
Lyra’s lips curled into a teasing smile as she met Delih’s eyes. “Stand up,” she commanded, her voice thick with authority.
Delih’s legs wobbled beneath her as she complied, feeling the tension in her body making her movements shaky. She couldn’t believe she was following orders from a complete stranger, someone who had been tied up in her basement not long ago. Yet, the power Lyra exuded was impossible to ignore, drawing her in like a moth to a fme.
Once Delih was standing, her body swaying slightly from the intensity of it all, Lyra shifted closer. The heat of Lyra’s breath against her skin sent another wave of anticipation rushing through her. She knelt directly under Delih’s core, her golden eyes darkening as she gazed up, taking in the sight of Delih’s exposed core.
The smirk that pyed on Lyra’s lips was filled with hunger and intent as she leaned in and inhaled deeply, the scent of Delih’s arousal filling her senses. She could hear the quiet, shaky breaths coming from Delih, could see the tension and the need building in her body once more.
Lyra’s voice was low as she spoke, her lips mere inches away from Delih’s core. “You smell… divine.”
Without further teasing, Lyra pressed her mouth to Delih’s core, her tongue moving in long, slow strokes, savouring every taste. The sensation made Delih’s knees buckle, her hands instinctively reaching out to grab onto something for support. Lyra’s tongue was relentless, exploring every inch, every sensitive spot, her grip firm as she held Delih in pce.
Delih’s moans filled the room, her earlier frustration melting away as Lyra’s mouth worked her over with expert precision. Each movement of Lyra’s tongue sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body, her head tipping back as she gave herself over to the moment.
Lyra could feel the way Delih’s body responded to her, how she trembled with every flick of her tongue, every suck, every graze of her teeth. Her hands slid up Delih’s thighs, holding her firmly in pce as she devoured her with increasing fervor. There was a primal hunger in the way Lyra tasted her, ciming her as if she were a meal meant only for her.
Her breathing became ragged, her body edging closer and closer to that overwhelming peak once again, her mind a haze of pleasure. Lyra’s hand tightened on her hips, pulling her closer, guiding her as her tongue moved faster, more urgently.
“Lyra…” she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure threatened to consume her whole.
Lyra didn’t stop this time. She could feel how close Delih was, the way her body tensed, and she pushed her further, deeper into that pleasure, until finally, Delih cried out, her body trembling violently as the orgasm crashed over her.
Lyra’s mouth never left her, tasting every wave of release until Delih’s legs nearly gave out. Only then did she pull away, her lips wet with the remnants of Delih’s pleasure, her eyes gleaming.
“Now, that’s how you say thank you,” Lyra purred, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction as she gazed up at Delih, who stood trembling above her, breathless and spent.
Lyra’s smirk deepened as she stood, effortlessly lifting Delih into her arms, her strong hands gripping Delih’s thighs as she wrapped them around her waist. Their eyes locked, the intensity in Lyra’s gaze a mix of control and hunger, while Delih, still gasping from her first release, stared back with anticipation, her breaths shallow and uneven.
She carried Delih with ease, her body radiating power as she walked them toward the steps, a predator fully in control of her prey. She pced Delih down gently on the third step, taking her time as she crouched between her legs, her eyes never leaving Delih’s face. The dominance in her smirk sent a shiver down Delih’s spine, her body still reeling from the intense pleasure Lyra had just given her.
“Round two?” Her voice was low, a teasing purr that made Delih’s heart race.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Yes, please, more.”
Her smirk widened at Delih’s desperate response, clearly enjoying the control she had over the situation. “Hold your thighs,” Lyra commanded, her tone firm. “And don’t let go.”
Eager to comply, she reached down, grabbing onto her thighs and spreading herself open for Lyra, her body trembling with anticipation. The vulnerability of the position only heightened the intensity, her breath hitching as she watched Lyra move closer.
Without further warning, Lyra’s mouth descended onto her core once again, her tongue moving with precision, licking, sucking, and teasing the sensitive flesh. The sensation was even more overwhelming than before, every nerve in Delih’s body alive with pleasure. Her hips bucked involuntarily, trying to grind against Lyra’s mouth, but Lyra’s hands were quick to hold her down, keeping her in pce.
Delih was a mess of moans and gasps, her body trembling uncontrolbly as Lyra’s tongue worked its magic. The sharp contrast between Lyra’s control and her own helplessness drove Delih wild, the pleasure building even faster than before. Her grip on her thighs tightened as she held herself open, desperate not to disobey Lyra’s command.
Lyra’s tongue flicked expertly over her clit, sending waves of pleasure through Delih’s body, making her cry out. The intensity was maddening. Every stroke, every lick pushing her closer to the edge. Lyra’s mouth never let up, and soon Delih was on the brink, her body shaking violently as she neared another explosive release.
“Please,” Delih whimpered, her voice barely audible through the pleasure. “I’m so close… please…”
Lyra growled against her core, the vibration sending a shockwave through her body, and with one final, perfect flick of her tongue, she sent Delih over the edge. Delih’s body tensed, her back arching off the step as she let out a moan, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her legs trembled, her hands gripping her thighs so tightly her knuckles turned white, but she didn’t let go, even as her body convulsed in pleasure.
Lyra continued to devour her, drawing out every st drop of pleasure, her mouth unrelenting until she was left completely undone, her body spent and shaking beneath her. Only then did Lyra pull back, licking her lips as she looked down at Delih, who was now gasping for breath, her body limp against the steps.
Lyra’s smirk was back, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she stood, towering over Delih, who was still lost in the haze of pleasure.
“Good girl,” she purred, her voice filled with dark amusement. “But we’re not done yet.”
She reached down, grabbing Delih by the waist and pulling her up with surprising strength. Delih let out a small gasp, her body still reeling from the pleasure, barely able to process what was happening.
Before she could catch her breath, Lyra spun her around, pressing her against the wall. Delih’s palms hit the cold surface, her body pinned by Lyra’s weight. The werewolf’s hot breath caressed her neck as she leaned in close, her lips brushing against Delih’s ear.
“I told you, we’re not done yet,” Lyra growled, her voice dripping with hunger.
Delih’s heart raced, a mix of excitement and fear flooding her senses. She could feel Lyra’s body pressed tightly against hers, strong and unyielding, and it sent a thrill through her that made her toes curl. She was at Lyra’s mercy, and she couldn’t deny how much that thrilled her.
Lyra’s hands moved down, gripping Delih’s hips before trailing lower, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Delih’s breath hitched as Lyra’s hand slid between her legs again, teasing her already swollen and slick core.
“You’re so wet,” she murmured, her voice filled with amusement as she stroked Delih slowly, deliberately. “I could devour you over and over.”
Delih whimpered, her body aching with need once more, despite how sensitive she was. Every touch from Lyra sent shocks of pleasure through her, her legs trembling as Lyra’s fingers teased her mercilessly. She could feel the wetness dripping down her thighs, her body betraying how much she wanted this, how much she needed more.
Lyra leaned in, her lips grazing the back of Delih’s neck, her teeth grazing the skin lightly, making Delih shiver in response. “I could mark you right here,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. “Make you mine.”
Delih moaned at the thought, the idea of being marked by Lyra sending another wave of arousal through her. She had never experienced anything like this before—the control, the raw, primal desire. It was overwhelming, and yet, she wanted more. She wanted to surrender completely to this feeling, to Lyra.
Lyra’s fingers pushed deeper, slipping inside her with ease, and Delih cried out, her hands gripping the wall for support as her body rocked against Lyra’s touch. The pace was slow at first, teasing, but Lyra quickly increased it, thrusting her fingers deeper, harder, making Delih gasp with every movement.
The wet sounds of Lyra’s fingers moving in and out of her filled the room, mixing with Delih’s moans. She was losing herself completely, her mind bnk with nothing but the overwhelming pleasure taking over. Lyra’s grip tightened on her hip, guiding her movements, making sure she couldn’t escape the intense rhythm.
Delih could feel herself nearing another release, her body shaking with the intensity of it. Lyra’s fingers were relentless, curling inside her in just the right way, hitting all the sensitive spots that made her see stars. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her legs threatening to give out beneath her as Lyra brought her closer and closer to the edge once more.
“Lyra...” she moaned, her voice breathless, her mind a whirlwind of pleasure and desire.
But Lyra didn’t slow down. If anything, she pushed her even harder, her movements becoming more forceful, more deliberate. She bit down lightly on Delih’s shoulder, her teeth grazing the skin just enough to send a shockwave of pain-pleasure through Delih, making her arch against her, crying out in ecstasy.
It was too much, and soon Delih was spiraling into another orgasm, her body convulsing as the release crashed over her like a tidal wave. She cried out, her entire body shaking uncontrolbly as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. Lyra’s fingers didn’t stop, driving her through it, until Delih was nothing but a quivering mess against the wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Finally, Lyra pulled her hand away, leaving Delih panting and utterly spent, her body pressed against the cold wall, her mind still hazy from the intensity.
“That’s what I like to see,” Lyra whispered in her ear, her voice a low growl of satisfaction. “You’re mine now.”
