Deep purple eyes flickered with a soft glow, betraying the simmering anticipation beneath her composed exterior. Standing tall and imposing in her sophisticated attire, she appeared every bit the formidable Seraphian ambassador she was known to be. And yet, there was a palpable tension in the air, a sharp edge to her otherwise serene ambiance.

The dimly lit chamber resonated with the low hum of the Iryth'ra crystal energy fields, casting an ambient glow that danced across the walls and reflected off the polished surfaces of Xylar'is's private quarters. The Matriarch stood, deep purple eyes narrowed in thought, her gaze fixed on the holographic displays floating before her, each showing strands of complex intergalactic treaties and trade agreements. The weight of her responsibilities pressed heavily upon her shoulders; she was a bastion of authority and composure.

As the evening wore on, an unmistakable yearning began to uncoil within her—a primal need for release, a respite from the ceaseless demands of her role. Tilting her head slightly, Xylar'is allowed her lekku to unfurl, a rare moment of vulnerability that was only permitted within the sanctum of her solitude. A calculated exhale escaped her lips.

Enough of this tedium, she murmured, the ambient light casting an azure hue upon her skin, highlighting the vivid patterns that marked her lineage and prestige.

Her form shifted, a fluid movement that bore the grace of countless diplomatic dances and the subtle power of a predator. She dismissed the floating displays with a flick of her wrist, their lights extinguishing as she redirected her focus, now entirely consumed by a more personal pursuit.

"Pet," she called out, her tone deliberate and velvety, "Where are you, dear?"

Golden light spilled from beneath a doorway as it slid open silently, revealing a human silhouette framed against the soft illumination. Xylar'is's lips curled into a faint, anticipatory smile, her presence filling the room with a palpable expectation. The human she had selected, procured for a price that the Matriarch would happily pay tenfold just for the moment of meeting her again. "There you are," Xylar'is's voice purred, rich and smooth, the hint of an unspoken demand threading through each syllable. "I've arranged a little... indulgence for us this evening." From the way her eyes roamed over the human's form, it was clear that her definition of indulgence stretched beyond the mere extravagance her ideas and arrangements usually meant.

Let's see just how well human delicacies fare when paired with Seraphian appetites.

With measured steps, Xylar'is closed the distance between them, the air charged with her dominant presence. "I expect compliance, my jewel," she reminded, voice low and commanding. "And don't look so apprehensive," she cooed with an almost mocking pout, one hand coming up to brush her knuckles affectionately against her human's cheek.

"Won't you let me make you my sweet, mindless pet?" she asked rhetorically, the implication clear—consent was a formality, a mere courtesy in the grand scheme of this one's desires. Her gaze—heavy lidded with desire—trails down to her hand that now travels from the human's cheek, to her collarbone, fiddling coyly with the fabric of their top, "You should see how absolutely beautiful you get when you fully give in. Shall I sit us in front of the mirror this time?"