It was the fastest she had ever called upon that shift on anyone, that brutal transformation from man to beast almost seemed instantaneous. It looked as painful as it undoubtedly felt and yet for Tetradore, it could have suffered forever in that excruciating perpetual embrace of subjugating power. How she wanted to hurt him violently, physically first, enjoying the way his body manipulated to her command. But it wasn't just physical pain Risque was after tonight, no, she wanted his heart torn from his chest. What better irony than to have him rip out the heart of his heart! All that fight would leave his defiant form, she would make sure of that. She would have him broken before the end of the night was through. It was a long time coming, she was through with his defiance, through with his blatant disregard for her authority. It was almost lucky for her panther that the vampire queen enjoyed to watch him break. His only saving grace to overlook some of his past transgressions until that moment arose where she would not tolerate it anymore. Thankfully for her, he was a durable subject to her explicit violence.

That agonizing musical scream that ripped from his lips brought a wide, tooth baring grin to her lips, what a sweet sound that she wishes she could cherish and add to her trophies. A noise of delight hummed through her, however rare it so graced her lips. How his agony pleases her, but she was not through with him yet. Not by a long shot.

If only it stopped here, but she took great pride in this evening she planned for her cherished cat. She shoved that power through him, that affinity of complete unrelenting control of feline, it was like a nuclear blast pummeling him into submission. After all, he was hers to do as she pleased, even if he was foolish enough to realize this simple concept. Even after all this time, one would think him daft. But she knew better. Which is why it makes it all the sweeter when that mind is put to use against him. Risque knew exactly what it was she asked from him, knew exactly the torment this must of waged on him. Good, let him feel it. Let him feel his cherished moral compass being ripped apart within him. It would pale in comparison to the onslaught she could inflict upon him.

It was a brilliant catalyst. A start to his endless torment. Even still, she had counted on Tetradore being difficult, after all, she doubted that side of him would ever change. His crumbling certainly proved to be no different. So, she watches with a wicked eagerness the way he pins the illusion of his companion in place, slicing him open to bear his insides on display like he were artwork. The whole ordeal was considerably bloody, but she had expected nothing less, the crimson looking stunning in that dim lighting and all together pleasing to her eyes. His pain only enhanced the notes, setting the mood as he gave into his mistresses command to rip apart his friend to obtain heart within his chest.

Risque remained ever patient as he begins to dissect his companion.

With that beating heart soon severed, so would his own heart be ripped out. A perfect punishment that would in turn make him think twice of just who he trifled with.

That vampiric hearing could hear every last sound of those mauling teeth severing those tendons and veins, the meaty sound of him tearing that body apart, piece by piece. To devour that heart entirely as she wanted, unleashing that monster she knew that lingered beneath that morose exterior. The mess it made upon her floor was a mere after thought, as it always was. Even despite the nuisance of it, it hardly stopped her. Especially when she was enjoying herself. If she could crawl inside his pitiful mind, in that moment, just to have a sliver of a taste of that raw torment he experienced, it would surely make that physical battering her Darcy had executed a welcomed occurrence in comparison to this. His eye betrayed it all, even in his feline form, that anguish flooding that emerald stare. In that moment she was the master of puppets, plucking his strings with a relentless fury. If only he knew somewhere along the perilous journey her power had slackened upon his as he acted upon instinct alone. She drew in that scent of gore with an eagerness, that frenzy appealing to her own predatory nature.

Piece by bloody piece, she cut those chords of his defiance. Allowing him to feel it, it taste what it truly meant for him to know suffering, to know it in its true a potent form. The best part was she could inflict it upon him at any time she pleased. This would be his warning of the consequences of what it means to defy her openly. She was so close to the precipice of transforming him into that subservient slave she so desired of him. So close she could taste it as thick as the blood of that leopard permeated the air of her office like a sweet smell of perfume. She enjoyed the smell of anguish and mortality just as much as she did breaking a man.

She moves with a liquid grace, walking through the glistening puddle of blood that spread out a wide area across her obsidian wood floor. It nearly reaches for her feet before she settles upon her throne, as though that wasted blood wished to serve her. Her fingers traced along the arm rest idly as though she were losing patience with him finishing his task. Of course, he only made it harder on himself the longer he took to obey those commands. But somethings were worth the wait, that deserved a certain finesse and couldn't be rushed. She wanted him to feel this moment, let it fester within him before she tasted that potent desperations within his blood. Nothing tasted sweeter than a broken alpha, it didn't matter what form he took. She does not let that impatience show upon her immaculate apathetic stunning face, the sea of blue-black hair framing her. One long slender leg draped elegantly over the other, rolling her heel-clad foot languidly while she waits for him to finish. "You know, one day you will thank me from ridding you of this weakness." Those words were intended to twist that blade ever further into his back.

"I assure you, the less you fight my pet, the better it will be for you. You waste so much time with your defiance.. it would do you some good to accept. You cannot beat me." She takes her time uttering those words, allowing them to languidly slither off of her tongue.

His next task, that one he had been so adamant to defy her on first was now met with little resistance. Her little feline had become humbled. Perhaps she should have done this long ago. How compliant he was as he procures her that requested tail, the sound of it breaking free from that leopard's body was sickening and yet to her it was music. How utterly prominently breathtaking this whole scene was. That dimly lit lighting certainly setting the mood for such a gory display. The scent of blood near toys with her senses and even though she had recently fed upon him she could hardly ignore her own hunger. Such mastery required sustenance.

She unceremoniously plucked that blood laden tail from his waiting, offering lips, allowing it to find its place around her neck. The warmth of it feeling luxurious to her cool exposed flesh. The blood from that tail still managing to drip oh so slightly. The sight of him sitting before her obediently waiting her next command was truly resplendent, the glossy gleam of his coat in places took on a reddish hue as the fur clumped from wet blood of his assumed lifeless companion. That illusion does not dare slip for even a second, that power almost too easy to wield against him, creating a perfect hellish torment of it own. It settles like a haze within that room that only she could see. She hardly hides the way she gloats in his utter destruction. He makes not a singular move of defiance, not even a hardened glare she had grown so accustomed to or the flash of those fangs. It only makes her smile that much more authentic, pressing her face to his muzzle as if daring him to action. But he doesn't. She hardly cares that the leopards blood painted her pale face, how stark a contrast against her bone-white porcelain face.

That melodious voice reaches for him as her slender hands press tightly, never relenting. Her lips draw toward his ear. That trophy around her neck swaying, tauntingly, her neck so close to his teeth that could massacre flesh but her hold on him is more resolute than ever before. Yet he does nothing, perfectly compliant except for a singular twitch which only makes her grip tighten even as he tries to move his head away from her. How dare he turn away from her. That threatening snarl threatens to leave her and yet she was too far in a good mood to have that slight disobedience to truly disturb her. "Don't do that." She chides.

That thought dawning upon her as the idea of a celebratory drink settling within her mind. That command was uttered before she placed a singular wine glass upon the ground between them. He hardly bats an eyes before giving into that command, releasing her grip upon him totally so she sat up straight, poised upon her throne.

She was satisfied with his progress tonight and took pleasure in watching him slice his own vein to prepared her that favoured drink of alpha blood. "Go on, do not stop until the glass is full. Don't you dare waste a drop or I will make you start all over again." She noted how that wooziness seemed to take over, after all she had taken so much from her panther the last time, only a few days prior. He had most likely did not completely recoup that loss. It was almost disappointing. Yet she hardly cares if he is on the brink of death, her bidding is what matters now, that lesson not quite finished until she was entirely sated. She leans back into her throne, observing as he cuts over and over until his veins are near bled dry.

"Good." She states abruptly before reaching forward to pluck that crystal glass from the ground that she had placed there moments before. The fragile glass hangs near precariously within her hand then, feeling the warmth from him against her cool flesh. She brought the substance to her lips, scenting it like one would assess wine. It held a distinct aroma to it, flavoured by his emotions and pain.

She brought the beverage to her lips, drinking a dainty sip, savoring it as it she let it slide down her throat. Pulling the glass away, she allows her tongue to lap up that mouthwatering appetizing blood. "Go under my desk, I would like for you to warm up my feet while I work," It would at least give him time to steep in the horrors at what he had done with a bird's eye view while she worked away without a care in the world. Most importantly, at least her feet would be warm.

The she-devil could certainly get used to this new compliant Tetradore.

Risque

just face the moon and put your death mask on