Raely is shocked that she is not even punished for her attempts to escape. As soon as they got back to the castle, she was sent back to her rooms and told she still had the freedom to go where she pleased in the castle but that it was too dangerous to leave. As Raely climbed the stairs, she overheard Lady Dusksong bark and order to one of the guards to have the captured Draeyn taken to the nearest military command post for questioning.

Too ashamed to leave her rooms, she spends the rest of her time waiting anxiously for the bonding ceremony. The song quiets, and she still finds her fingers twitching, anxious to slip beneath her clothing and finger her cunt while she sings about how good it feels to be a thoughtless toy. But she hasn’t earned it; her owner is surely mad at her. She needs to be punished.

She can’t even remember why she tried to leave; it all feels like a strange dream.

But eventually, the song tells her to forget about the whole thing and just listen to it; so she does. She forgets everything as she is ordered and gives into her needy cunt until the day of the bonding ceremony. Rosamund drags her out of bed for a bath, and the splash of cold water shocks her back into lucidity just as the Dusksong Arcanist arrives to gather her.

“There’s no fighting it, is there?” She says, not even saying “Hello” as Lady Dusksong enters her room at twilight on the seventh day of her captivity.

“The bonding ceremony? It is what you agreed to. But if you do not want to be a channeler…”

“No, it’s not that. It’s the song in my head… You put it there, or the collar did, or… I don’t know.”

“Yes. It’s easier this way. No, no need to finish your bath early. I can wait.”

“What’s that mean? I already bargained away my freedom, I didn’t bargain away my mind!” The words come out harsher than she wanted them to, and pain builds in her mind. The song tells her she’s not to speak to her owner so disrespectfully.

“I know, I know. But it’s necessary to keep you safe. Now, touch yourself.”

“In order to be safe, you need to brainwash me into being a compliant, docile, mindless…” The words come from her mouth slowly and her hand moves of its own accord.

She does not even realize she is touching herself until she’s already close to the edge.

“Yes, my kitten. I need you like this,” she whispers into Raely’s ear and lifts her into her arms. “Just trust me. Keep touching yourself for me.”

Raely continues to move her fingers in and out of her cunt as she is carried down from her tower, still soaking from the bath and naked, and then down further still into the dark dungeons of the castle—her owner’s workshop and laboratory.

“You belong to me, kitten.”

The song in her head reinforces her owner’s words.

“I belong to you,” she repeats, far too lost in the haze of lust to know fully what she is saying.

“You will always belong to me,” her owner says.

She doesn’t notice Micarsh standing before a giant iron door pull an ancient key from his pocket and unlock the door. She doesn’t notice him pulling it open, she doesn’t pay any mind as her owner carries her through the door and she does not hear the clink of it closing behind them.

She’s locked in the room, just her and her owner, and she can’t stop touching her cunt. A senday prior, she was still in full control of her mind. But now, she is ready to relinquish it. Ready to relinquish everything if she could just have one night of being nothing but a vassal for her owner. She doesn’t need her mind; she doesn’t need to think. She just needs to obey.

“There is no fighting it,” her owner says. “Fighting it is only going to bring you pain. You must give me everything you are, and in return, I will give you the world. Give yourself to me.”

There are markings on the floor, candles lining the walls, glowing orbs illuminating an otherwise dark chamber.

Part of Raely wants to take it in, wants to examine it, try to understand it. But the need in her cunt is too much. The ache is overwhelming. She’s just a mindless fucktoy, she couldn’t understand it even if she tried. She needs to focus on giving herself to her owner.

“Don’t fight it,” her owner says again, placing Raely on the floor. “Embrace it. You want this.”

“I want this,” she repeats. And she does. She really does. It feels so good; it’s the best feeling in the world. Being so horny and mindless and blank, being so obedient, being owned—it all was the best feeling in the whole world.

“Kneel for me, kitten,” her owner commands her. “Here, at the center of this sigil.”

She falls to her knees, one hand still pawing at her cunt. She looks up at her owner with empty, vacant eyes.

“Good kitten. You are doing so well.”

Raely’s cunt clenches around her fingers and she wonders what her owner will ask her to do next. She loves obeying.

“Oh, you are so perfect.” Her owner pats her on the head. “I know you do not have much experience with the world, and for that I am very grateful. I cannot tell you how excited I am that I will be the one to teach your body how to sing tonight. I need you to stop touching yourself until I give you permission again.”

Raely is not sure how to respond, so she smiles, both her hands clenched at her sides and aching to touch herself again but not wanting to do so unless her goddess instructs her to do so.

“I promised you I would protect you from pain and harm. This ceremony of bonding can be very painful if either party does not truly, deeply want it. If either partner is not willing to give their everything to it, it can be excruciating, potentially even lethal. Do you understand, pet?”

Raely doesn’t; her mind can’t process the words—so many of them are too large for her to know. She’s just an obedient fucktoy. Her mind is too full of longing, too many thoughts of desire and need and lust. “I need you,” is all she can say in reply.

“Exactly. I promised you no pain, and I made sure you want this completely. You will feel no pain, my kitten.” She strokes Raely gently. “I hope you can forgive some of the liberties I took. But look at you now; so happy. Tell me, have you ever felt this happy before?”

“No, my lady.”

“Then you forgive me?”

Raely is confused. What has her owner done that would require forgiveness? The song in her head is so loud, so beautiful, so perfect. She lets it overwhelm her. How had her owner found a song that suits her so perfectly? The song told her she needed her owner, loved her owner, belonged to her owner. And she does. Of course she does. How had the song known all this time what has always been lurking in her heart? But her owner is expecting an answer. “Yes, my lady.”

For half a second, her owner frowns; a fleeting second of hesitation crossing her face, the faintest hint of uncertainty. “All I have to do is make you fall for it…”

Raely is too horny to understand what her owner is trying to say. “Have I displeased you?”

“You need to stay still, as still as you can. That is an order. No matter what I say, no matter what you feel, do not move until I tell you ‘release.’ Do you understand? Stay kneeling just like that until I tell you that you can move again.”

Raely understands that she’s been given an order. That’s all she needs to understand. All she needs to do is obey.

Her owner circles behind her and Raely wants to look over her shoulder so badly; she always wants to be gazing upon the goddess who owns her. But she’s a good pet; she is a good kitten. She will obey.

She stays still—forcing herself to be as immobile as a statue—as her owner starts chanting in some language Raely has never heard before. She remains frozen as her owner reaches between her legs with one hand and gently inserts a finger into her cunt, rhythmically in and out. Even as she nears her release, orgasm, the song tells her… Even as she nears orgasm, she obeys; she does not move even as her body yearns to shake and writhe with need. Even as she hears her owner pick up something with her other hand, even as that something else is drawn down her spine…Cold, sharp, precise… She doesn’t move.

Thick and viscous, warm fluid runs down her back and she dimly realizes her owner is carving something into her back. But she does not move. She does not flinch—she is obedient. She accepts the scars while her owner keeps her right on the verge of orgasm. She is an obedient kitten. A marked kitten.

It doesn’t hurt, not even a little. She is giving herself to her owner, completely and fully. No hesitations, no reservations. With this ceremony, she is pledging everything to her owner, for now and always. Her body, her power, her mind. Everything. She will stay still as ordered. Even as the pleasure continues to overwhelm her, only enhanced by the electric shock that comes with each slice of the knife.

“You’re doing so good,” her owner whispers between her chants. “So good.”

The blood continues to travel down her back until it drips to the ground, pooling behind her, each drop on the sigil sets the room vibrating; a current of arcanum that Raely can feel sinking into her skin, entering her wounds, entering her mouth, entering her cunt and irrevocably binding her to her arcanist.

“Just a few more minutes my good kitten.” Her owner pulls her hand away from Raely’s cunt but the pleasure does not cease. Her owner is in front of her again, standing tall, knife still clutched tightly.

Raely forces herself not to move as she realizes what her owner is about to do. The knife grazes across Lady Dusksong’s arm, and the blood drips over Raely’s head, soaking into her hair and covering her forehead. But she doesn’t move. She just watches as her lady continues to chant in some ancient, arcane language.

She can see it then; she can see the arcanum twining itself around her, around her owner, circling her wrists, her ankles, her neck… all attaching to an arcane leash held tightly in her owners hand.

“You belong to me,” she says. Raely doesn’t know if she says it in the common tongue or the arcane, but it doesn’t matter. She understands it.

“Release,” she says. “Say it.”

Raely lets out a ragged breath, gasping as the arcane leash tugs at her. “I belong to you.”

“You pledge yourself to me entirely.”

“I pledge myself to you entirely.”

“You give me everything.”

“I give you everything.” She does. She will. She has to. She needs to. Every inch of her body aches with the need to surrender, to submit to her owner, to give the arcanist everything. To be nothing but a conduit for the will of her owner. She will be nothing but a hollow, empty vessel for her owner to fill—with arcanum, with lust. With whatever she deems necessary, whatever brings her owner the most pleasure.

More pleasure, too much pleasure; it’s overwhelming. She is unmoored—she will disappear into nothingness. But the leash around her neck anchors her; tethers her to the world, secures her forever to her owner. She will never be lost again; she will never be without a home; she will always have a place she belongs.

“Open,” her owner tells her as she touches Raely’s bottom lip.

She does, she opens her mouth and her owner slides two fingers into her panting mouth. She has no idea what she is supposed to do, but she knows her owner will instruct her. Her owner pushes them in deeper before pulling them almost all the way out. She repeats this—in and out—a few more times until Raely understand. The song sang to her of this.

She closes her lips around the fingers rightly and sucks on them gently.

“Good girl,” her owner says. “You’re so good. We are almost done. You have given me everything. Now, it’s my turn.”

The fingers slip out of Raely’s mouth and she wipes them off on Raely’s cheeks and Raely stares up at her owner in awe. Her owner sets the knife down and kicks it out of the way, clinking against the rocks in time to the song in Raely’s mind. Slowly, her owner unties the laces holding her skirt up and lets it fall to the ground in a cascade of satin. Her owner is naked beneath her skirt; naked and beautiful. Her legs are thick, defined muscles and soft curves mixing together. Her waist is glorious; meant for kissing and lavishing. And her owner’s cock is stiff and waiting; waiting to be worshipped and relished like the rest of her.

She doesn’t need to be told what to do. She takes it into her mouth; the taste of sweet honey meeting her tongue as she laps at it slowly.

She has never been so happy. She sucks on it, the song in her head telling her how Lady Dusksong likes it, when to lick, when to suck more, when to ease, when to tease. Dreams of this moment come rushing back to her; the song preparing her even in her sleep for that knowledge which her waking mind was not yet ready for.

But she already loves it; already needs it. She worships her goddess, she worships her cock, she worships her body, showing her gratitude with each lick, each flick of her tongue. Her hands travel up and down her owner’s legs, exploring her smooth and satin skin, until they reach her owner’s hips. She grips on, her thumbs pressing into her flesh, hoping she can get the leverage she needs to take the arcanist’s glorious cock further down her throat.

I am owned, it’s so much better than I could have ever imagined.

She knows it’s coming—the apex of her owner’s pleasure. Raely can tell her owner is close to reaching her own limit and will soon give Raely the nectar she has needed her whole life.

The first honeyed drop hits her tongue and she almost explodes, and then there is more; more sweetness, more divine water. She loses track of time, all that exists is her, her owner, and the unbreakable bond between them.