A/N: Wow, hello loves! It has been over a year this time, hasn't it? Here I am with an update. What I would really love more than anything are some nice reviews. How are you liking the direction of the story? Have you missed me? I miss hearing from you. It's not the same writing for crickets.

Warnings in this chapter for non-con starting at the line, "Have they treated you well, flower?". Please enjoy! XOXOX

Chapter 25

The doors to the Cloud Tower Great Hall fell with ease, splintering to pieces along with the wards placed on them.

Those foolish witches had really thought they could stop her with her own fire?

Pathetic.

"Surprised?" Bloom asked, pleased with the shock and fear her fire elicited. Succubi soldiers followed in her shadow, spreading through the room, evening the playing field. All this to make it clear she had come not only to conquer, but to ravage. "I have to admit, I was surprised myself when I discovered the Dragon Flame had not abandoned me. I am a true daughter of Sparks, or at least that is what my vessel says. You never could have taken it all; the Flame will always find a home in me."

She danced flame between her fingers, a smoldering red. The witches watched with muted rage at the sight, following the ember as it skipped down each talon, only to disappear in the palm of Bloom's hand. Surely, the felt cheated. Bloom could feel the jealousy radiate through each of them, seething and wonderful. Surely, she had ruined all their plans, wrecked their ideas of a great and terrible future, knocked them off their deadly thrones.

(Really? Three writhing, squirming towers of insects and rot in the center of what once was a dining hall? Choice were made, none of them grand).

Yet, even more impressive than the fantasy they built was the restraint of their leader, the witch with the ice white hair.

The ice witch, Icy - if Bloom recalled correctly, stepped from off her high throne and approached Bloom as close as safety let her. Which was still a fair distance up the stairs, above Bloom, where she surely thought she belonged.

"Must we kill each other?" Icy asked, painfully bored in her opposition. "Powerful women such as ourselves should never be pitted against one another."

Bloom snarled and surged forward, too quick for guards made of decay to catch.

"You sent this snake to my door." Bloom threw the bitch by the hair, her bound body landing in a heap at Icy's feet. "Because of you, my mother is dead and my people without a leader."

"Looks to me as though you've filled that role quite well," Icy mused, frosty eyes raking Bloom over from tit to talon. "Perhaps we can come to some kind of understanding."

The thought was so laughable, Bloom actually did chuckle, as did all her fellow Succubi.

"What could you possibly have to offer me that I can't take for myself?"

"We are both at an impasse, Your Majesty," Icy feigned a bow of false respect, her cold blue eyes on Bloom's fire red ones the whole time as they circled each other. "The pesky fairies of Alfea have blocked off-world transport and kept the realm of Magix under some sort of containment spell. Once you set foot here, you can't get off."

"You're lying."

"Why would we remain on this wretched, devastated planet with our Army of Decay if we had no other choice?" Icy snapped in reply. "The Magical Dimension should have fallen at our feet by now. Instead, we are hindered by the meddling of pixies.

Bloom's nostrils flared. The witch flirted with death. A hair closer and Bloom could have her claws in the meat of her neck. But Icy's sisters, the one with storms and the one with psychic abilities, they were close, fists closed and ready to strike at their leader's command. Bloom could take them. They would be easy prey. But where was the satisfaction of torture? Of seeing them fall apart in the most exquisite torment?

No, when she killed them all, it would be after she had wrung every last drop of suffering from their cursed bodies.

"Why should I care about your problems?"

"Our problems are your problems. You're stuck here now, same as us. We should work together."

"You want something from me," Bloom cut to the chase. These witches always had a price. "Was my Dragon's Flame not enough?"

"The last of the Alfea Resistance is imprisoned here in the Tower dungeons. One among them is smarter than the rest. I have no doubt that she holds the key to unlocking the spell and freeing us all."

"Then why have you not taken it from her?"

"Do you think we haven't tried?" Stormy snarled, electricity sparking at her fingertips. "She's too stubborn to torture the information out of her."

Icy stilled her sister with a single look. Stormy did not look pleased to be silenced, but Icy didn't seem too bothered to incur her sister's wrath. Icy didn't seem bothered by anything at all. She smoothed down her pants, picked at a nail, as if she and Bloom were talking over the weather.

"Succubi are known for their persuasive methods. Perhaps one of your people could try seducing the information out?"

That was not a bad idea. At least there would be some enjoyment in torture.

"And what do I get in return?"

"You can have this world to do with as you wish. Establish a new Succubus home world. Use its inhabitants as your breeding ground and play things. I'll even let you have the prisoners." Icy snapped her fingers, and the monstrous guards opened the doors. "If I remember correctly, you used to be close friends."

A parade of filthy, beaten girls came shuffling in, each chained to the other with thick iron shackles. The shackles were no ordinary bindings - these were covered in enchantments engraved into the metal links, words in languages Bloom did not speak but recognized as ancient magics. These girls would not be able to use their powers so long as these irons remained around their wrists and necks.

They kept their heads down, all four of them, and stared at the ground in defiance until the monsters at their backsides knocked them in the knees, driving them to kneel before their new masters.

"This is all that remains of the Resistance? Four dirty mutts?" Bloom scoffed, surprised at the weakness of three 'all-powerful' witches. She laughed once more at the overconfidence of incompetent witches.

Then, Bloom took a closer look at her prisoners, at the one at the very end of the line, and her whole world shifted.

"Flora," Bloom breathed, overcome by the fragrance of flowers and earth.

The nature fairy looked just as lovely as Bloom remembered, even under the layer of dirt and abuse. Her hazel eyes were just as emotional, her lips just as plump, her skin just as tawny, if not a little paled from days spent underground. Desire coursed through Bloom's veins, overwhelmed with the urge to touch and claim. That invisible chain, that impulse that drew her to Flora in the beginning, surged back to life. She remembered the taste of Flora on her tongue, sweet and heady despite the shame that clouded her memories.

Bloom was young, then. She did not understand her biology the way she did now. Fairies did not smell hormones or scents as Succubi did; fairies did not rely so heavily on animal instinct and physicality as Succubi did. Fairies did not have a mating drive, a primordial part of their brain that sought out the most compatible partners, and so Bloom did not know then the reason why she was compelled to eat Flora out despite knowing it was wrong, high on her floral aroma and honey-sweet juices.

Bloom knew better now. Flora was her mate. But she would be damned if she let the witches know that.

"Which is the one who holds the key to our freedom?"

One of the monsters pushed a girl with the short mop hair forward. It was hard to tell between the matted blood and dirt, but there were streaks of the initial magenta there. When teal eyes looked Bloom's in the eye with contempt and fear, Bloom felt her mouth widen into a cruel slash of smile full of teeth.

She knelt in front of Tecna, hooking one claw under her chin so she could see exactly how far Bloom had come and know it was all because of her.

"I will enjoy torturing you, I think."

Tecna shuddered. Good. She should be scared.

"Wrathis," Bloom called, and like a shadow, he appeared at her side. "You'll be gentle with her until I arrive, won't you?"

"Of course, My Queen." He gave a short nod of his head, his own eyes sparking with pleasure at the idea of delivering more pain. "And what of the others?"

"Return these wretches back to their cells, along with this." She kicked the bitch in the ribs just to hear her groan. Creatures of decay made quick work of adding her chains to the existing ones, creating a line of disgraced, disgusting fairies. "Except for her." Bloom pointed to Flora, whose head snapped up with alarm. "Take her to my chambers."

"Your chambers?" Wrathis asked, confused. He had not smelled what Bloom smelled. He did not understand what was happening, not yet.

"Yes. I shall be acquiring the old Headmistress's rooms," Bloom commanded, flashing Icy another cruel smile. "I was promised this planet and everything on it, after all."

...

The Headmistress's rooms were dark and cold, like everything else about the former school for witches. However, they were spacious, taking up the top of the tallest spindle. A whole laboratory meant for brewing potions took up the side facing the door beside a sizable library and a scrying bowl. A chest of drawers sat near a vanity and a large claw-foot tub. However, the piece de resistance came in the form of a magnificent four-post bed with a canopy set on dais in the center of the room.

On that bed sat a shaking Flora. Someone had bathed her and placed her in new clothes, though perhaps robes were a better answer. She had a cloak drawn tightly around her throat, though that did nothing to disguise the irons that still bound her. Cleaned up, Flora looked just as tempting as she had in their dorm room so long ago.

Across from the bed stood a very cross Azazel.

"What is this creature doing here?" he demanded, a pout on his full lips.

"Hush," Bloom commanded, sweeping into the room and sitting herself at Flora's side. "She is welcome here."

"Is this creature your new plaything?" Azazel continued the petulant behavior, nostrils flaring in offense. "Am I being dismissed?"

"Nonsense. No one can replace you, my Azazel." Bloom assured, though her eyes never left the fairy at her side. Her hands had taken Flora's, stroking gentle patterns into the skin at her wrist, taking in the quick beat of Flora's heart. "Flora is more important than a plaything. She is my mate."

"A fairy, your mate?" Azazel snorted a laugh of disbelief. "You could not be more incompatible."

"That is where you're wrong."

"I thought you did not want a mate. I thought you were set on being young and free and finding your own way in the world as your mother intended."

"Do not bring my mother into this," Bloom snarled. It would be the only warning her insolent slave got before she ripped out his innards.

"You think a fairy can be your mate?" Azazel asked again, much more reserved but still buzzing with anger. "With respect, Your Majesty, they are not like us. They cannot withstand our natures. That is why they have hunted us for millennia."

"Flora is gentle. She will not harm me."

"But you will harm her."

"Any harm that comes to her will be to our mutual pleasure, I assure you." Bloom turned to Azazel, confused as to why he continued to act like a petulant fledgling. He even had his bottom lip pouted out and a sneer on his face. "Continue to act this way, and I will banish you from our bedroom and you will not get to partake in the pleasure."

Azazel's mood shifted immediately into something much more receptive, and curious.

"You would let me into your mating bed?"

"If you asked nicely," Bloom purred, drawing Azazel in only to push him away. "But not tonight. Tonight, I need to claim her and make her mine."

Azazel nodded his consent as if it was actually in consideration. Even if he fought Bloom, if he whined and raved and continued to proclaim his jealousy (of course he was jealous; succubi were jealous creatures by nature, and Azazel was used to not having to share), Bloom would bed her mate. How could she not? How could she ignore the tug in her hardened heart, begging to tie itself to the beauty beside her. Bloom would slit Azazel's throat if he tried to intervene. That was how intensely she felt about Flora.

Wisely, Azazel accepted Bloom's proposal. He stepped forward so that he faced Bloom, then sunk to his knees before her. He was a tall creature; on his knees he was still able to meet her eyes dead on.

"I only have one request, My Queen."

"Name it, my Azazel."

"Once you grow your phallus and have had your fill of your mate, find me," he whispered in her ear, nipping at the shell. "I have craved to feel you inside me for too long to let you give it to another."

He offered no explanation, no further instruction or request before rising effortlessly to his knees and slinking out of the room. It was then, Bloom realized, that her slave had no chains. She'd had no time to bring them, to bind him in ceremony to her bed so that he could carry out the rest of his sentence.

It mattered not. Azazel had served Bloom well in their time together. He could consider his debt to Eros paid.

With that settled, Bloom was finally free to pay Flora her full attention.

Flora was still infuriatingly skittish. She had sat there, silent the entire time, head bowed and body curled in on itself as Bloom and Azazel talked. Bloom hated to see Flora this way, so weak and shriveled. Like a houseplant left without sunlight. Pitiful.

"Have they treated you well, flower?" Bloom asked gently, surprised she still had gentleness within her after how hard her mother tried to beat it out.

She hooked her claw beneath Flora's chin and raised Flora's eyes to her own much like she had done with Tecna. The difference was, this time, Bloom was careful not to cut, not to maul. Flora's skin was perfect, smooth, unblemished, and would remain that way.

"Have they treated you well?" Bloom asked again, slow and steady, so that Flora would understand through the shock.

Flora nodded jerkily, her eyes blown wide. There was surprise there, surely, but also fascination and sadness. Fear. That was inevitable. Bloom looked more monster than woman, but she could not bring herself to feel shame. The claws and horns, the yellow eyes with the slanted pupils, the tail, the sharp teeth - these were who she was. This was her heritage, her throne. Flora would come to accept them, and in time, love them.

"What is it?" Bloom asked when Flora could not stop staring, rubbing her finger back and forth Flora's flushed cheek. Her hand had spread from its hook on her chin, palm splayed so that she could cup the side of Flora's neck where her pulse beat the loudest, fastest. Like a hummingbird.

"Y-your voice," Flora whispered, her voice just as jumpy as her movements. "It sounds...so..."

"Different?"

Flora nodded once.

"Do you like it?"

Flora shuddered in a breath. True, Bloom's voice had deepened, her rasp pronounced. Azazel liked it when she whispered in his ear, promising sweet, terrible nothings. Though, he had not heard her before, when she had the mildest version of a valley girl accent in a pitch far more feminine. Before, she sounded like Earth, like summer days and cherries, like the virgin-whore dichotomy of the girl next door. Now, she sounded like smoke and velvet, like pure sex.

It worked on Flora. This close, Bloom didn't even need a succubus nose to smell the desire, to feel Flora's pulse jump under her fingertips. All Bloom had to do was lean in, press her nose to Flora's throat, to the place her blood thrummed hot and red, and inhale.

Eros, the smell of her! Pure bliss. Bloom had to taste.

Tongue slipped from her mouth, licked a stripe up Flora's neck. Flora gasped, went completely still as Bloom tasted her, sickly sweet. Too much. Not enough. There was somewhere else Bloom could taste her longer, taste her stronger.

"Open your legs for me, flower," Bloom compelled, stroking the insides of Flora's thighs in gentle encouragement.

Flora's thighs were crafted by the gods, Bloom was convinced. Thick and soft yet strong, stretch marks dancing where thigh met ass, glittering silvery gold in the dim light. Bloom wanted to trace each one, first with fingers and then with her tongue.

"Why do you cry?" Bloom asked, wiping away the tears that leaked from Flora's beautiful eyes.

"I don't want this," she hiccuped.

"Yes you do, flower. Yes you do," Bloom cooed, pressing Flora down on the bed. Her legs fell open now, making room for Bloom to settle in between. "We were made for each other. I know you felt it the night I tasted you for the first time. It scared you then as it scares you now, but you have no reason to fear me, to fear us. I will take care of you because you are my mate, flower. Do you know what that means?"

Flora shook her head. Bloom leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, careful not to cut Flora's lips on the edges of her fangs, while her hand slipped between Flora's legs and touched her where she was wettest.

Flora gasped and pulled away, but Bloom continued stroking Flora slowly, steadily.

"It means you are mine, body and soul. And I am yours. You belong to me. Your very being sings a song only I can hear, and it calls to me, flower. Can you hear it too?"

Bloom slipped two fingers inside, and held Flora close as she gasped and writhed. Bloom looked into Flora's eyes as she fingered her. She couldn't look away, not when Flora's pupils grew so wide, so dark that they devoured the hazel within. Not when she could see Flora losing her battle with the lust building inside her. Bloom could smell it as well as see it, wanton desire perfuming the air with the most delicious notes of jasmine and honey.

When Flora came, her whole body shook with the force of it, her body breaking out into rashes of pink heat and shivering cool.

Bloom removed the robes between them, letting the cool air brush over them before drawing the curtains closed, concealing them in the dark. She had a feeling that, for the first time, Flora would be more comfortable this way. Bloom was not entirely cruel. She would ease Flora into the idea of being mates. She would show Flora pleasure in the dark, let her bask in the feel of their bodies joined as one, and then, when Flora was fully immersed in the idea of them, she would bring their love into the light.

Besides, Bloom did not need light to see. The dark was part of her. She could see as clearly in the dark as in the the light of day. It was only Flora who was blinded, and Bloom did not need Flora to do anything other than lie back and enjoy the ride.

Bloom lowered her whole body on top of Flora's using her weight to keep her mate where she wanted her. Their pelvises brushed, hot and wet, and Flora yelped, a high-pitched sound that sounded like it could have come from a wounded animal. But Flora wasn't wounded. She was horny.

Legs tangled. Bloom arched her hips and lifted Flora's. Their meeting set off fireworks in her cunt, the sparks of pleasure as clit rubbed against clit, slick and toe-curlingly perfect. The noises Flora made, the grunts and gasps, Bloom devoured them all.

The longer they ground against each other, the heavier and hotter Bloom grew between her legs. Her folds swelled with her need, and so did her clit. It just kept swelling and swelling, protruding through her folds and further still, until Bloom reached down to stroke them both to completion and found she could fit her clit in the palm of her hand.

"When you grow your phallus..." Bloom murmured, remembering Azazel's words.

Instinct told her what to do next.

She stroked herself like she would a man, wonderstruck as her clit grew and grew and grew until it resembled a cock, and a large cock at that. Bloom had a hard time closing her hand around the shaft, blood pumping to the new organ, giving it life until it curved hard against the swell of her stomach. The head wept fluid, thin and clear. No seed would spurt from her, not unless she took it. But that was fine. She would fill Flora with this, tying the nature fairy to her irrevocably.

In the time Bloom took to study her new anatomy, Flora had turned back to her fears. She couldn't see Bloom's phallus, didn't know what was happening. She squirmed, panic staining her scent with the salt of sweat and iron.

"Hush, flower," Bloom soothed, returning to using her fingers, relaxing Flora until she stoped fighting the roll of her hips.

Bloom wished Flora could see how pretty she was, fucking Bloom's hand, riding it like she needed it to live. So fucking beautiful, second only to the face she made when she came, shaking loose like a leaf in the wind. She screamed and twisted her hands in the sheets, head thrown back and eyes closed, nipples peaked and hard as rocks on swelling breasts. Bloom took one into her mouth and bit down on the nipple just to hear Flora cry out one more time.

It was time. Bloom sat back on her heels, one hand on Flora's knee keeping that dripping pussy open and the other hand on her cock, running the head through cum, lubing herself and lining herself up.

"Here I come, flower."

"I can't," Flora whined, fighting to close her legs as Bloom pushed inside.

"Yes you can," Bloom encouraged, unrelenting even as Flora fought it.

"I can't! I can't, I can'tIcan'tican'tican'tican't oh- OH! Oh my, fffuuuucckkkkk."

"Oh, oh flower," Bloom sighed, nestled to the hilt in the warmth of Flora's body. "You're perfect. I knew you could."

"Fuck," Flora whined, high pitched and needy, squirming on Bloom's cock even though Bloom hadn't moved yet.

When Bloom did move, when she pulled back until only the tip was inside, then snapped her hips flush against Flora's pussy, giving her every single inch at once, Flora shrieked.

This was going to be fun.