Mistress of the Damned

It was clear he wanted an answer, like I was just going to reveal this big secret. The guy had clearly lost it. I wasn’t the queen of the underworld. I wasn’t some god reborn.

I couldn’t be.

I couldn’t move, let alone form words. I just stared at him, my mind swimming.

“So, my Queen, will you come back to bed so that I can worship you the way you deserve to be worshiped?”

He lay there, smiling, those golden eyes gleaming, his cock at attention as he waited for me.

And all I could do was stare.

This couldn’t be happening.