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Tricky Domme sets a game for two newly acquainted subs.

Her girl's blonde hair was sleek and long, with a glowing aura typical of her species.

But her lovely face was sweetly innocent, not pinched and cunning. Her dainty wings were stunted to a third of the usual size. They were very small and delicate, reflecting rainbow as they gleefully fluttered in the light.

A gleaming, midnight-blue material tightly wrapped about her slender figure like a sheer slip. Though her breasts were firmly contained to support nimble movement, they pressed enticingly against the clothing in deliciously rounded curves. Her pale legs were smooth, long and agile, and he wondered how it would feel to stroke his hands down them, and spread them wide.

Thoran smiled with a predatory gleam in his black eyes. He liked pretty things. If it weren't for the wings and unearthly glow about her, he would have presumed she was an extraordinarily beautiful human girl.

Nymphs were mischievous by nature, and spent much of their time creating inconvenient snares for animals and travellers. Though troublemakers, they only sought comical amusement, not harm, and were known to aid creatures and humans in deadly peril.

No doubt this one was in the midst of conjuring an irksome trap, and so happily distracted she had no awareness that danger loomed immediately above her. Thoran paused, slightly amused.

Nymphs were deities, and he was quite puzzled that she was so oblivious to his presence. As her wings colourfully twitched, Thoran slowly dipped a finger into his pocket to trace the smooth edge of a cloth he often carried with him.

The nymph finally twigged something was wrong as Thoran gathered himself into a crouch. Before he leapt, he stared into large, frightened, pale-green eyes, and grinned back at her horrified countenance. An instant later, she vanished into the forest, and he tore after her.

The desirable creature lithely jumped over logs, dodged branches and nipped around trees. Behind her, Thoran easily crashed through barriers, unconcerned by the damage left in his wake. He lost sight of her as he turned a corner, but instead of blindly continuing pursuit, he paused, listening. He sensed she was there; he could almost taste her tantalising fear on the tip of his tongue.

Heart thudding with anticipation, Thoran reflected upon his good fortune. Unusually quick as he was, nymphs were faster. He never dreamed he might ever catch one, but the one he chased was clearly handicapped, and abnormally lovely.

Straining his ears, he finally caught the faintest of sounds. It was piteous breathing, like the gasp of a scared baby rabbit, but he couldn't be sure of its location. Thoran felt a thrill of triumphant pleasure, immensely satisfied that his boring day had taken such an exciting turn.

Slowly stepping around the area, he waited for her to make a break for it. He knew she headed for the protection of her people, and he was determined not to let her slip though his fingers. Clearly her unique wings were too small to carry her, and she relied on lightness of foot to escape. But she wouldn't escape him.

Suppressing a fretful sob, Sirah curled up beneath a particularly thick overgrowth, cursing her foolishness in leaving the safety of the others. Her immortal love of mischief lured her away, but human blood flawed her instincts.

Now a demon hunted her, and she paid the price for failing to heed her father's most strict rule. Trembling, she remembered the look on the demon's face when he first leapt. It was ominously wicked, and full of desire.

"I won't hurt you..." the demon called, his deep voice startlingly close by, and Sirah curled up tighter with her eyes closed.

"Come out, little nymph," he invited, and the smile in his tone made her shiver. "I am going to catch you," he announced to the nervous silence. Though he glanced around calmly, his entire body was flexed and ready to give chase.

Sirah painfully held her breath, waiting until his heavy footsteps wandered to the other side of the clearing, and took her cha

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