The summons came laced with perfume and silk.
A golden scroll, wrapped in crimson ribbon, delivered by a courtesan riding a six-legged orchid beast. The message was short, but the implications stretched miles:
Elian of the Velvet Veil,Flamebearer, Contract-Binder, and bearer of a stabilized Lust Anomaly,You are hereby challenged to a Lust Duel in the Court of Sighs.Show the strength of your bond. Submit your passion for judgment.Lose—and your Contract shall be severed. Permanently.
–Lady Saevia, Whipmistress of the Third Moan
Elian read it twice.
Neressa, lying across his bed in a loose violet robe, smirked. "They want a show."
"They want us," he muttered. "Exposed."
Her smirk deepened. "Then let's give them a performance they'll never forget."
The Court of Sighs was not built of stone—it was woven from pleasure.
Silken drapes formed archways. Candles shaped like moaning mouths lined the halls. The scent of arousal was thick in the air, and every step on the marbled floor echoed with distant, sensual laughter.
The court was assembled in a circular arena—tiered balconies filled with nobility and Lust Order elites. Some watched with jeweled monocles; others with fingers deep between their thighs. No one pretended shame here.
At the center, a round dais of red velvet waited. On it: two pairs of cuffs, a binding circle of silver thread, and a podium where Lady Saevia stood—wearing nothing but thigh-high boots and a whip coiled at her hip.
"Begin," she purred, "when your bodies are ready. The Duel of Desire honors no clock but hunger."
The Performance
Elian turned to Neressa, his heart pounding—not from nerves, but anticipation. Their Lust Contract pulsed in his chest, a warm throb of connection.
"Are you sure?" he whispered.
Neressa stepped forward, her robe falling to the ground. "I was made for this."
Her naked body shimmered with arousal magic—curves glowing faintly with rose light, eyes dark with need. She knelt, offering herself not in submission, but invitation.
Elian's control slipped.
The crowd hushed as he disrobed—slowly, deliberately—revealing a lean, toned body kissed by Flame. His arousal was already visible, proud and aching.
He stepped into the circle, and as his foot crossed the silver thread, the bond awakened.
Their Flames entwined, arousal magic cascading like sparks.
Gasps rippled through the court.
Lady Saevia raised an eyebrow. "Mmm. Promising."
It Began With A Kiss
Elian dropped to one knee and kissed Neressa—not a chaste peck, but a deep, consuming kiss that pressed mouths open and made the court hold its breath.
Their tongues danced. Her nails dug into his shoulders. His hand found her breast, teasing the hardened nipple until she whimpered against his lips.
Their bond flared.
Above them, an illusion bloomed—an ethereal mirror of their passion, projected by Lustfire. Every moan. Every stroke. Every breath became visible.
The audience leaned forward, enraptured.
From Flame to Flesh
Elian pressed Neressa onto the velvet dais, his cock throbbing as he slid between her thighs. She was already slick, ready, pulsing with need.
But he didn't rush.
His fingers traced her folds, coaxing pleasure like a painter stroking a masterpiece. She gasped, hips lifting, eyes wild.
"Elian," she moaned. "No teasing. I need you."
He obeyed.
With a slow, burning thrust, he entered her—inch by inch—until their bodies met and their Lust Contract blazed like fire on their skin.
She arched. He groaned.
The court gasped.
A Duel of Desire
Their rhythm was primal.
Elian thrust deep and slow, each stroke dragging a moan from Neressa's lips and lighting their bond like lightning in the dark.
She met him thrust for thrust, nails clawing down his back, heels locking around his waist.
He flipped her—taking her from behind, hands on her hips, watching her ass ripple as he slammed into her again and again.
Each position was a statement.
Each cry a spell.
Each orgasm a crescendo in the duel.
The audience wasn't just watching—they were feeling. Some came on the spot, collapsed in trembling ecstasy. Others begged for mercy, overwhelmed by the rawness of the magic pouring off the dais.
Neressa screamed as she climaxed again, her pussy clenching around Elian's cock like a velvet vice.
He lasted through one… two… then lost control on the third, groaning as he came inside her, the bond flaring gold.
The Final Test
Lady Saevia stepped down from the dais, eyes alight.
"Still conscious," she noted, amused. "But not enough."
She snapped her whip.
"Show us the soul of your bond."
Elian, panting, took Neressa's hand—and kissed her palm.
"I feel you," he said softly. "Always."
Neressa pulled him close, lips brushing his ear.
"And I surrender, not to weakness—but to love."
With those words, the Lust Contract ascended.
A shockwave of heat and color burst from their bodies—blinding, erotic, divine.
When it faded, they stood glowing, bodies flushed and trembling, but proud.
Lady Saevia raised her arms.
"Witness the truth! Their bond is real. Formed not of dominance—but of devotion."
The crowd erupted in cheers. Some wept. Others begged to be next.
Elian pulled Neressa into his arms.
"We won."
She smiled.
"No… we've only begun."