"It really makes the most sense with orcs," she said, winking conspiratorially. She drew up a tablet from her lap and held it across the desk to me. "Now, I'm going to have you go through this file of images. You don't have to say whether you like something or not, although you are welcome to. It's not a bad idea to tell me if you aren't interested, though. Sometimes, the body has a different opinion than the mind."

She had another tablet in her hand, one that must've shown her what image I was looking at. So she was definitely a succubus, if she would be able to sense my interests without me saying so out loud.

I tapped the screen and bit my tongue at the first image, a massive green hand with lovely dark claws wrapped around a throat, squeezing gently.

"A bit," I breathed, and the succubus chuckled.

Bruises. Chains. Cuffs. A leash. Dildo. Butt plug. Just the mouth of an orc, tusks gleaming and protruding from thick, full lips. I stared a moment longer at that image, unable to understand why it made my whole body throb with need.

"Very?" I managed, my voice a little breathless.

Astraeya only nodded.

I tapped the screen and caught my breath, the sight of those black claws and thick fingers cupped possessively over a woman's pussy.

"Very," I squeaked out.

On and on it went. There was even a sequence of penises, each one larger than the last. Other obvious images—ropes, floggers, clamps, a handprint on an ass—were mixed in with more obscure but somehow equally arousing images like a moonlit forest, a barely dressed bed by a stone wall. I flipped through a few confusing inclusions of wine, a cheeseboard, and a candle, and then paused at the picture of an intricately arranged bathtub, full of flowers and dimly lit by candles. It was well out of the range of scenarios I'd asked for, but it was appealing.

"Very," I said lightly, looking up to meet Astraeya's approving smile.

* * *

The MSA building was an attractive office, with plenty of windows and lots of greenery—not at all what I would've expected from the kind of place to hire out submissive captive fantasies. It was not, apparently, where said fantasies would be taking place.

Astraeya had offered to let me drive myself, but I'd opted instead to take the agency up on transport. My bright yellow suitcase, leather painted with strange and delicate daisies sprouting up from the base, was sitting cheerfully in the back of the black town car as we kicked up dust on a dirt road winding through the woods.

"You weren't kidding about secluded," I murmured, staring out the window and searching for any signs of civilization.