Mozenrath cried out in agony, his body bleeding in a dozen places and broken in a dozen more. He fell to the couch in relief, praying, hoping beyond all hope that it was over, at least for now. He forced himself to look back at Diriel, anticipating the worst.

But the daemons focus wasn't on his. The creature was feeling over the features of his face as they formed over flesh and bone. His hair, the long silver white dread locks that carried to his waist grew back over his scalp and malevolent red eyes opened to the world around them. Vain creature that he was, Diriel took a look in the mirror, analyzing every last line and inch of his skin. "Perfect." He said finally, satisfied with his appearance. "See how good we are for each other Mozenrath?' he said, still not turning to his weakened, bleeding victim. "You provide me with the energy I need to sustain myself, and I…" he grinned, finally looking over at his toy. "I keep you in line."

"Master…please…" Mozenrath choked out, spitting Diriel's seed from his throat. He was raw all over, claw marks imbedded deep in his flesh. His throat bruised from a strangulation hold, and his entry… His entry was broken entirely. Diriel had used something…some kind of device he wouldn't dare describe, to break him open in every direction. This was of course after he had repeatedly violated the sorcerer. After all he liked his toys tight. No use breaking them before he'd finished.

"Now Moze. Do you really think you have the right to ask anything from me right now?" he questioned, the hot glow of rage still barely dormant in his irises. "But come now, you've done your duty to me." He said, taking sadistic, precise enjoyment from humiliating the sorcerer further. "What do you wish?"

Mozenrath closed his lips, looking at the pitcher of water on the table.

"Very well." Diriel poured a goblet full, the moisture glistening on the glass as he beckoned to Mozenrath. The sorcerer forced himself to move across the couch, his back sore and whipped and lay his head on Diriel's lap in an appropriate submissive gesture. Diriel smiled, his fangs showing in the light. He took a long sip and made Mozenrath rise to him. Mozenrath whined as he was made to kiss the beast, lips opening to accept wonderful cool, refreshing water down his sore throat. "Better?"

"Yes master." Mozenrath said softly, bowing his head back down.

This was his prison now, paradise though it would be termed by others. They were no where near the desert now, and the smell of sea air and winds filled his senses. The sun, the beautiful sun he'd become so used to in Agrabah had not left, but made the shore glow like gold. How Diriel had found the time to erect a palace in this island he'd no idea. Just another of the mysteries that the daemon seemed to let out one at a time. Mozenrath didn't care. He was a whore again, a gilded, silk ladened whore in his masters home. That was the extent of what he need be concerned about.

Diriel had begun to pet his hair, sliding his fingers through the silky man. "Ah how I've missed that." He hummed gently. Mozenrath whimpered, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Now now my little whore. No need to cry." He reassured the wizard. "Your home now."

"Yes master." Mozenrath sobbed out, his body beginning to throb with pain. "I just…hurt." He choked out, seed and blood mixing on his lip.

Diriel seemed startled for a moment, a look of confusion over coming he pretty face. He wasn't used to Mozenrath confessing pain to him. The little pale man he had first come in contact with would do anything to avoid admitting agony. Something had changed about his little pet, something he had never been approached with before. Very well then. Diriel said to himself. That will just make this all the more interesting. "Demanding little whore aren't we?" he said and wrung Mozenrath's hair up, pulling the sorcerers head up. "After all the trouble you put me through and you actually have the gall to ask me for healing?"

"Master indicated interest. I was simply for filling your curiosity." Mozenrath pleaded, his shoulders and neck straining. Diriel gave a gruff sound and grimaced. He placed a hand on Mozenrath's back, letting him feel the heat rise on his palm.

Little fool. He would have healed by morning any how. The white haired beast realized. If Mozenrath hadn't asked for his healing, he would have had to stop playing, otherwise risking lethal damage to the man. By allowing him to seal the wounds and shut the internal injuries, that only meant Mozenrath would be forced to spend hours into the night satisfying his masters needs.

Perhaps he wants it that way. Perhaps he's finally given up resisting. Diriel seriously hoped not. Out of all his triumphs, Mozenrath had withheld from him the longest. Even before that idiotic Sultan's interference, Mozenrath had resisted conquest to the point of death. Now that he thought about it, that was what truly made him desire the little sorcerer. Forget that he was essential to remaining corporeal. Mozenrath enthralled him in a way he was no accustomed to. So strong, yet it was a strength that bent and twisted instead of standing tall and being broken down. It explains how he could always manage to glare at me, even after I'd raped him till he wept. How he always seemed to carry that spark of resolution behind his gray eyes.

Up till now, Diriel had thought that to be the most dangerous part of the sorcerer. The one thing he needed to conquer before he could feel secure in his standing on this plain. But now…

Now it's like they've taken the fun out of it. Why else would the nobility and such own tigers and jaguars if the thought of controlling something so dangerous didn't bring them pleasure. Take the fangs from cobra and all your left with is a slithering worm. That disappointed him more than anything else. What joy was it to beat on a dead horse? What purpose did it serve beyond keeping him bound here?

The moment he was healed Mozenrath was thrown off Diriel's lap and onto the floor. He pushed himself up, looking at his master from the ground. "Have I done something wrong?" he said and watched in horror as Diriel bared his teeth and advanced. "Master…MASTER!" Mozenrath shrieked as Diriel brought his open claws against the sorcerers face and sides. "Master please!" he yelled and tried to struggle away, still sore and aching. "Master what did I do?" Aren't you sated yet you bastard!

"Fight back!' Diriel yelled, his voice rough and angry. "Fight back you worthless sniveling concubine!" he brought his fist down, knocking Mozenrath across the tiled floor and into the pillars across the room.

"Please…master…Diriel I don't understand!" Mozenrath screamed as Diriel closed a fist around his throat, digging his claws into the young man's neck. "Diriel…"

"Come now my whore. You were brave enough when you were safe behind those walls, why at such a loss now?" He smiled, feeling Mozenrath struggle to breath in his grip.

"Please…Diriel…" Mozenrath gagged and Diriel suddenly let go, letting the man slump to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. "Diriel…I don't understand…" he gasped. "You have what you wanted…I gave myself to you…"

"To save the child of that idiot and his woman." Diriel sneered and spat in Mozenrath's face. "Don't get me wrong now whore, I'm grateful you came back to me. I've allowed you to live haven't I?" he said and added a kick at the end of his sentence. "But something's wrong with you." He muttered. "Your different some how…like a willow tree in a storm." Diriel's voice faded a little, becoming a whisper in the room. With sudden calmness he leaned in close to Mozenrath, holding his chin and gazing into the sorcerers eyes. "What happened to you…in that palace?" he asked in even tones. "Were your moments with Aladdin really so perfect, so pleasurable, that you now give your entire self willingly to an endless nightmare?"

Mozenrath took a gulp, closing his eyes and thinking back to that moment, that brief, wonderful moment, where Aladdin had kissed him. The smooth touch of their lips on one another, the warm sensations of their skin touching as their blood ran fast through the veins and made them quake in delight. Just a kiss. He had given his body and life for a single, perfect kiss. "Yes." He answered, his pain fogged eyes opening with clarity and determination.

Diriel backhanded him into the wall, the sickening crack echoed through the building. The daemon's breath was heavy and ragged as he stood , holding hid blood stained claws and growling. Suddenly, he laughed. A low, frightening sound. "You know what your problem is Moze?" he said. "I've shown you too much favoritism. A whore should know their station and I've given you too much preference." He smiled, watching as his toy tried to collect himself. "Perhaps I'll get you a playmate eh? You seemed to like that Aladdin boy an awful lot. I'm sure he'd take as much pleasure in our games as you."

"No!" Mozenrath roared, his body barely supported by the pillar. "You leave him out of this! He has nothing to do with this!" he raised an accusing finger. "You gave your word."

Diriel smiled. "And you honestly think I'd keep it?"

Before Mozenrath had even realized what he was doing, the bolt of blue white energy had been flung from his finger tips, heading straight for Diriel's chest.