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Quiquan lies still, staring at the impish creature before her. Its dark energies reverberate through her very being, simultaneously giving her the sensations of burning and freezing. "Your… game?"

"You called me to this plane, and so we shall play my game," the demon says, touching Quiquan's cheeks.

She slaps the hands away, scrambling to her feet. "I don't have to play any game for you! After all, you're bound to me through the rites I recited."

"Bound," the demon says, tilting its head one way, "but not tied down." It says this, drawing a toe over the line of the circle.

Quiquan sniffs and rubs her nose. Staring at her palm, she gulps. On it is the residue of the summoning circle: what was left of her work, left half-assed and rushed.

"You cannot harm me," The kobold says.

"I won't dream of it," the demon replies, turning its head the other way. "I cannot conceive of it."

"What can you conceive…?" The kobold asks.

The demon's smile widens, and soon it is upon the kobold, grabbing her by the shoulders, its height no taller than hers. It opens its maw, its tongue rolling out, sliding along her mouth, coaxing it open.

Was it more of a gasp or more of an invitation? Quiquan doesn't know exactly why her mouth opened for the demon, nor does she particularly care after his tongue pushes within her mouth. It dances around inside, her muscles having difficulty dancing with the demons.

Quiquan pulls away from him, his grip firm but not strong enough to keep her from escaping. She wipes her mouth, spitting on the ground.

"Is something the matter?" the demon asks. "You do not wish to play, is that so?"

"It is not! I mean, it is! I mean I am not like Tik Tik. I do not go about willy-nilly and use my body in frivolous activities!"

His hands clasp to her shoulders from behind, and she yelps, turning around to find him standing beside her. He says, "You wish to have power and to wield eroarcana better than she."

She doesn't answer him.

"It is not for your self-gratification but for knowledge's sake.

She shuffles her feet.

"There is no one here to judge you, Quiquan. You can do whatever it is you desire."

Quiquan closes her eyes, shuddering as she hears those words echoing. Different tones and voices work together to convince her.

"Yes…" she hisses.

"Then, let's play."

She spins around, breaking free of the demon's grasp. "Very well, M'goreh," she begins. "Grab me… by the throat."

The demon chuckles and grasps her, both hands clutching her tight. "A foolish mistake, mortal. For soon, I shall be free!"

Quiquan steps back. When she does, his fingers give way, letting her free, unharmed.

Quiquan coos. "How foolish is it to know that you are free of your physical bonds but not free of your magical ones?"

The demon dangles his arms down by his sides, his stare intense upon her. "What now, then?" he asks.

Quiquan taps her cheek. "There are many things I can do with you," she says. "But first, I think I shall acquire more research."

Quiquan steps slowly around the demon, whose body twitches as he stands still. His head turns to watch her, but his body does not move from the spot as she does her physical examination.

"Yes, I see; Tik Tik would surely have loved to summon a specimen like you. Tell me, my servant, what atrocities are to your name?"

"I am the spirit of all those who give into their basest desires—to take on their wants and needs and use them without conceptualizing the consequence."

"Ah, so you're the demon of indecent exposure, public masturbation, and being unable to keep it in one's pants."

M'Goreh snaps. I am so much more than such trifles!"

"I'm sure you are," Quiquan says, poking him in the chest. "Yes, I think this is a good enough sight to behold, but let's see how you fare, shall we? When a demon of your caliber is barred from doing anything he desires."

"You cannot hold me," M'Goreh says. "The circle is broken."

"Then when I say you cannot touch me, you surely aren't prevented." She steps forward.

M'Goreh steps back.

"And when I say you cannot stimulate yourself, you won't be able to do so?"

M'Goreh growls. "I'll find someone!" He shouts.

"Not until I say you can," Quiquan says.

M'Goreh twitches and shakes and turns away from her. "You are cruel!"

"Cruel? No, I don't think so. You're a naughty little imp, and I'm just putting your powers to good use."

He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping a foot. "Yeah, well, what good are you putting me to because all I see here is you being a big doo head."

"Tut tut," Says Quiquan, waggling her finger. "You sit down and think bout what you've done. I need to figure out what exactly to do with you." She scoots over, grabbing her book on demonology and flipping through some of the pages.

"How much longer?" M'Goreh whines, kicking with his heels striking the ground as he leans back, his hands supporting him.

"Not too much longer, now," Quiquan says, brushing her finger over the page. As she reads through the text, new ideas brush through her. She slams the book shut, stands up, and scampers toward M'Goreh, narrowing her gaze.

He blinks and sits up, eyes wide. "W-what is it?"

"I know exactly what you are to me," the kobold says, opening the book and pointing to the passage. "A creature of a pact that can grant powers to the spellcaster. I can't believe I didn't see this before, but you, M'Goreh, are my familiar!"