The Adventures of Sorceress Miya
Copyright© 2026 by Virael de la Fer
Chapter 2: The Bargain
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 2: The Bargain - Mia Lancaster is a broke, brilliant, and fiercely ambitious sorcery student. When she secretly summons a demon, she gets an education far beyond the classroom. Between arrogant mages, relentless inquisitors, and a sinfully hot High Demon, her charming backside lands her in one deliciously dangerous scrape after another. Her only weapons: forbidden magic, sharp wit, and a body that drives men wild.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Mystery Magic Demons Cream Pie Exhibitionism Oral Sex Petting Public Sex AI Generated
Kron.
Kron raised an eyebrow mentally—strictly mentally; his face remained an impeccable mask of haughty superiority.
Only twenty-three years old, and the density of her magical core was comparable to that of an experienced adept on the verge of becoming a master. Humans usually spent years grinding away in their academies, often well into their thirties, just to accumulate that much pure energy. The girl’s potential was astronomical. She was clearly running through several more domination spells in her head—he could feel her aura repeatedly and furiously battering against his barrier. Useless, little fool. The very circle that bound him also protected him from any attempt on her part to make herself his mistress. As did the contract itself, for that matter.
Realizing that her magic was simply crashing against a wall of stone, the girl finally stopped wasting her strength and glared at him from beneath her brows like a battered but terrifyingly proud kitten.
“All right, ‘not a girl anymore,’” Kron purred, lazily examining his black claws. “Tell me, if you don’t mind ... all those years of diligent instruction, and the great mages never bothered to teach you such basic things as reading and writing? How long ago did you actually finish your education, by the way? Did you run away a couple of days ago?”
The girl’s face flared so fiercely red that she might as well have been doused in fire.
“Of course I can read!” she shouted, desperately trying to recover what little remained of her lost bravado. “And I only started my training two years ago! And I didn’t run away from anywhere!”
Only two years? Kron was genuinely stunned, though not a single muscle in his face betrayed it. With an aura like that, the girl possessed phenomenal talent. It was probably best that she didn’t know it yet, or her ego would completely eclipse the rest of her judgment. Still, raw power was one thing, while basic knowledge was another—and she was catastrophically lacking in the latter. Well, Kron would be more than happy to enlighten the young lady. For a suitable price, of course.
The demon smiled slyly and gave her a light, elegant half-bow.
“You see, my precious, the spell you used to summon me isn’t some simple call for a household pet. It is the automatic activation of a contract known as the Voluntary Agreement. It was invented by ancient mages who, unlike you, simply couldn’t be bothered with all the tedious business of suppressing a demon’s will and fastening slave collars around their necks. The concept is simple: you summon me, state your objective, and name your price. I stand here, listen, and decide whether I am gracious enough to work for such a paltry offering. If I disagree, you name another price. And so on until we reach a consensus. Once we do, I perform the task, you pay, and I disappear. And here is the most exquisite part—all of it must be entirely voluntary. The magical circles make sure of that. So forget about slavery, little witch. You can start erasing the charcoal.”
“Liar!” she shot back haughtily, although her voice betrayed her with a tremor at the end, and her knees began trembling again.
Kron could see every cell in her body screaming that this terrifying, unbearably attractive monster was telling the truth. But admitting it meant admitting complete defeat. She clearly hadn’t prepared for negotiations. She had planned to snap her fingers and acquire a loyal dog.
Kron merely snorted, shifting his weight and taking half a step forward.
“Sadly, no. The contract is already active, and you won’t be able to terminate it without offering terms—the magic of the circle will drain your mana to the last drop. So, what is it you want from a High Demon?”
“What ... what are demons usually summoned for?” she asked, desperately trying to buy herself as much time as possible, frantically searching for a way out of the situation without losing face.
Kron snapped his claws, producing a brief blood-red spark that dissolved into the air with a dry crack.
“Oh, the range of services is quite broad. But there are two things I excel at above all others: eliminating another mage cleanly ... or stealing whatever they guard most fiercely. In those areas, I am absolutely flawless.”
Miya Lancaster.
The demon’s words hung in the air, heavy as a storm cloud just before lightning flashed and the rain came pouring down.
Kill or steal. Two offers. Two paths. One word, and the High Demon she had summoned without even knowing what she was doing would carry out whatever she asked of him. Provided she could afford his price. What could she possibly offer him? And what would it cost?
Kill. Faces surfaced in her memory. People who—no, who had not actually harmed her, but whose actions had irritated her. Roderick Darrow, for instance. That greasy smirk of his and the filthy look in his eyes. The son of a duke from a neighboring kingdom, whose magical power was inferior to hers but whose arrogance and audacity rivaled even this demon’s. If not exceeded it. She remembered how, just last week, he had cornered her against a wall in the library corridor and, patting the bulging purse at his belt, offered to “make in one evening what your father couldn’t earn in a lifetime.” Only the sudden appearance of one of the teaching mages had allowed her to escape Roderick, but his words had lingered in her mind for a long time, along with the burning tears that had sprung to her eyes. It had been insulting. Very. And humiliating.
Then there were the Graves twins. Yes, they were handsome. Yes, they were magically gifted. But they were completely incapable of keeping their mouths shut. Their whispers behind her back were never loud, but always calculated so that she would hear every word, making her blush and lower her eyes to her notebooks. “Penniless commoner.” “Daughter of a failure.” “What does she even think she’s doing at the Academy?” They didn’t care in the slightest that she had completed three years of coursework in just two. She was beneath them socially, and that gave them every excuse they needed to look down on her. They were not dukes like Darrow, but they were barons. Then there was Countess Morian. She simply looked at anyone beneath her station as though they were servants.
Miya clenched her teeth. It had always been like this. Social status never seemed to remember that the Academy charter contained a law guaranteeing equal treatment to every student. But kill them? She imagined Roderick Darrow lying on the stone floor, his eyes staring blankly into nothing. She imagined the twins—two cheerful, empty-headed, but very much alive young men. And to her own surprise, she shuddered. Brrr. No. Even thinking about killing someone for something like that left a cold, slippery feeling in the pit of her stomach. Yes, she despised their propositions, their actions, and their words. But not enough to take their lives. She was not a murderer.
But steal? Something like ... books.
Miya’s heart began to beat faster.
Several forbidden tomes from that very section where only Magisters were permitted—those who had advanced beyond the tenth year of study and formally earned the title of Mage. Those who had completed the entire path. Access to that section was completely forbidden to Miya, a third-year student.
Her father had spent almost fifteen years at the rank of Apprentice. Sixth year, seventh, eighth, ninth ... He had honestly tried to pass the examinations to become a Mage again and again—and failed every single time. A lack of knowledge and a lack of power had made every attempt futile. Miya remembered how he used to return home after the examinations: exhausted, but still smiling gently as he ruffled her hair and told her that next year would surely be the year he succeeded. Next year. And the next. And the next. Until one day, when she was five years old, he simply stopped trying.
And now here she stood in the middle of the attic—a third-year student who had already stolen a forbidden scroll and summoned a High Demon in violation of every law of the Academy ... If she obtained those books, she could leap over several ranks at once. Become an Apprentice at nineteen or twenty instead of twenty-three or twenty-five. Well, twenty, perhaps. She would still need time to study whatever the demon brought her. She could surpass her father by more than ten years and walk the road where he had stumbled...
“What would you demand in return?” she murmured, barely loud enough to be heard, hoping the demon wouldn’t notice.
She raised her eyes. Kron stood leaning against the edge of the protective circle as though it were a wall, arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted slightly. Sparks of lazy, well-fed curiosity danced in his yellow eyes. He had not taken his gaze off her for a second while she thought. He was simply waiting for her answer—or her next move. The demon’s tail lazily tapped its tip against the stone floor, measured and methodical, as though counting down the seconds. Kron looked like a cat who already knew perfectly well that the mouse wasn’t going anywhere. And Miya understood that with painful clarity. The mouse was her. But there was no other way. Or, at least, she couldn’t think of one.
Gathering the last remnants of her dwindling courage, she straightened her shoulders and began to speak.
“I need you to...” she began, her voice almost firm. But something broke on the very next word. “ ... I need you to get into the vault. The Forbidden Section. There are tomes there that...”
She faltered. The very words—get into the vault—cut painfully against her ears. This was theft. Actual, criminal theft. If she were caught, they wouldn’t merely expel her. They would burn out her magical core and throw her through the Academy gates in disgrace, her name a scandal throughout Veindor. Her father would learn that his daughter was a thief. The Magisters, who had barely noticed her existence until now, would finally notice her—only to crush her.
“ ... that I don’t have access to,” she finished almost in a whisper, lowering her eyes to her own boots. The tips of her ears were burning.
Kron did not move, silently waiting for her to continue. And she forced herself onward, telling him about the seven seals, the clearance granted only to Magisters, the protective enchantments, and the silver runes carved into the ironwood door. And then—Miya herself wasn’t sure how the words escaped her—she made the last, and probably the stupidest, mistake of the entire evening.
“What do you want for it?” she asked, looking up. “What is your price?”
She stopped herself immediately, but it was too late. The words had already been spoken. Somewhere deep inside, in the corner of her mind that fear had not yet completely paralyzed, she heard the voice of one of her instructors, Magister Laurent, teaching their demonology course.
“Remember this! When summoning a demon—even the simplest janitor—never, under any circumstances, ask what the summoned creature wants in return! Name your price first. Otherwise, you give it the right to demand anything it likes. And this is especially important when summoning a succubus or an incubus! Stop giggling! As though I don’t know whose summoning every student learns first. Or who spends the most time recovering in the healing ward afterward!”
The demon smiled.
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