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But I don’t want her like that. I don’t want her coerced or convinced—I want her crawling to me of her own free will, clutching my feet and licking my cock, begging me to take her.
I want her hungry for me.
Besides, there is something else I need from her in order to perform the spell I have planned.
“What’s that around your neck?” I ask, pointing to the thin gold chain.
She touches the heart-shaped pendant. “My mother’s necklace.”
“Give me that, and I’ll save you.”
“No.” Her fingers curl protectively around the trinket.
“As you wish.” I head for the door. “Best of luck with His Majesty.”
As I touch the door handle, she exclaims, “Wait!”
Too easy. I smother a smile and turn slowly around. “Yes?”
She unclasps the necklace and holds it out to me, her face haunted but confident.
The minute the necklace touches my palm, I can tell it’s real gold. Good. That, along with her intense connection to the item, will make the spell so much easier.
“Transmutation is a complicated gift, very rare.” I run the thin chain of the necklace between my fingers, eyeing the piles of straw in the room. “I don’t have the gift myself, but I know a few spells I can combine to create the effect we want. I’ll need your help.”
“Anything.” In her eagerness she lets the dress she’s holding slip, and I’m treated to a brief glimpse of her beautiful tits, round and heavy and just as luscious as the rest of her. She swears and covers herself again, throwing a glance at the corset on the ground.
“You ruined it,” she complains.
“It was suffocating you.”
“But I do need a corset. Without the support, my back starts to hurt.”
“I can imagine, toting those things around…” I nod at her tits. “Fucking gorgeous, they are. I’ve never seen a pair so fine.”
Her cheeks flush a deeper scarlet. “Well… thank you, I suppose.”
“I can repair the corset strings, if that’s what you want.”
“Yes please. And help me tie it. Just not quite so tightly as before.”
I tuck her mother’s necklace into my pocket. Picking up the damaged undergarment, I speak a rhyme in Elvish, a couplet for the repair of small items. The rhyme doesn’t work for anything with missing pieces, but since I simply broke the strings, it serves well enough in this case.
Holding the corset, I advance cautiously toward Juliette, whose brown eyes flame with warning and… am I imagining that hint of desire?
“You’re going to have to put that down.” I nod to the dress she’s holding.
She swallows, then lets the gown fall.
I have never seen anything more beautiful than her body, with its softness and roundness, with the chocolate silk of her hair slipping over her smooth skin, one curl lying against her nipple, drawing my eye to its pink bud. Her eyes are downcast, shy, yet she was bold enough to bare herself to me.
My mind goes blank. I can’t remember where I am or what I was about to do—what I’m holding or who I am.
“Rupert!” she snaps, and it takes me a moment to recognize the name of my assumed identity.
“Um, right.” As she raises her arms, I slide the corset over her head and body. She settles its cups over her breasts, lifting and tucking until everything is right, then holding the front of the corset in place while I stand there like an idiot, gaping.
“Fasten it,” she reminds me.
