Victory.

It was sweet, beautiful. I watched as he relinquished his control. I watched as he became like putty in my metaphorical hands, willing to be shaped to my will, to do what I please with him, to have him do what I please to me. Yes, this was what I was born for, this is why my magic existed. I was a predator, an Amazon, a huntress, of males and their weak willed minds. It was thrilling to see my fantastic King reduced to this, to nothing more but his carnal urges and desires.

Our faithful Doctor leaves the scene, I care little for his amusement on the matter. Time will tell, d'Artagnon, I think, sparing only a momentary glance in his fleeing direction, pleased even that I had wished for his absence, and was given it. Our frosty King creeps closer, and I allow him to close the gap; surely this was his idea, not mine? That was all part of it; it is not I in control, but he, that is how he must see this. I feel his hot hide press against my own, I suppose I am surprised that such warmth can exist in such a wintry being. I spend no more than a second speculating this, however, for time has seemingly sped up, and I must maintain my control.

Dirk retreats even before Mauja's crown grazes my back, the guttural sound emanating from somewhere deep within him driving the young feline away. He slinks off into darkness, his own sooty hide blending with the flora smoothly, his presence never completely gone from me, but admittedly cast aside for now, my focus being not upon my companion at this moment.

Sensitive nares reach out, touching the spotted barrel of my Lord, my countenance shy - this is my first time practising such things after all - but my motion steady as I allow myself to drink his own scent. Though it has not the same effect mine bestows upon him, I further permit myself to embrace the masculinity of him, the testosterone, the sheer power of his rank and strong structure. Teeth flash from behind my chocolate lips, aiming to pinch skin between them, sensitive skin along the flanks of this beast, near where I am sure a flood of heat is rushing, and powerful urges are mounting. I think it is time we move this party elsewhere.

Like my companion would, I take on a feline grace, designing to press myself against him, my tail lingering beneath his nose, the smaller flowers in there releasing their intoxicating scent. I hoped the leonine shape of it would act as a rope would, that my scent would bring forth footsteps from him to follow in my trail with no more effort exerted from me besides ensuring my tail did not drop lower than his chest. A soft wuffle rolls from my maw, as I make a request of my King, before leading him towards the Grove that would give me everlasting proof of the control I had demonstrated over my liege.

"Do be gentle with me, my King."