You've never met Maxine DeFleur, I don't think. But you might get to see a lot more of her. Let me know what you think of her. Let me know if you like her.
I've never been one for uppity submission. I want to surrender power. But until Maxine, I never realized just how much power you get when you give it all up.
You'll see; I'll show you.
Did you ever hear of a sex rescue? That's when a succubus infiltrates the lair of another demon and fucks her way through the minions in order to rescue a friend.
Given that succubi are demons, and as a rule we don't usually have friends (at least not mortal friends), I'm not surprised that you've never heard of it. This may be the first one.
Which gives me the element of surprise.
I'm not what you call sneaky. Yes, there's subtly in seduction, sleight moves of subterfuge to get people in the right mindset. But that's sex, not ninja stuff. I don't do ninja stuff.
In fact, the best way for me to get in is to be as brazen and open as possible. So never mind the magic to hide. I let my wings unfold in all their stunted glory -only good for gliding, but part of the look- and my horns grow large and proud from my hairline. My tail slides out my back, moving with a mind of its own, the tip glistening with that delightful venom. I let my tongue lengthen and fork, my teeth grow into those tiny needle like fangs, and my claws sharpen to a point that they can cut through steel like butter.
I love my claws. They're useless as weapons. Most of me is useless as a weapon. My claws only cut objects. Like armor. Or clothing. They're wickedly sharp, they look badass, and they mean never having to deal with a pesky buckle or caught zipper.
As for the rest, I leave it outside. What succubus worth her spit would bother wearing clothes? I need every advantage I can get, every scrap of attention. And very little garners attention like a naked red haired demon walking confidently up to and then through the gates of your castle.
I can taste their arousal as I walk by the guards. The one on the right is too busy cataloging every curve of my body, the tiny tuft of hair between my legs, the perkiness of my nipples, and the plump cushions of my lips. No doubt he'll be using this imagery later. The other guard is a bit less taken in, and so my tail jolts out and pricks him once, so fast that they don't see, so subtle that no one notices. Especially not when the poison takes its effect.
It's not poison. Not really. Just a venom. A venom that causes a massive orgasm. Not dangerous, at least not in small quantities. But very useful when you need a guard to cum in his pants and forget why he was going to stop you from going inside.
It wasn't hard to find them once I got in the building. I just had to follow my nose. Sex has a definite smell, and eventually you learn to focus on it. Not just sex though; sexual torture, sex that isn't exactly consensual, sex that isn't at all consensual – all of these things have their own flavor. Don't let anyone ever tell you that having an orgasm means you liked it or that you consented. The body does what it does, and you have no more control over it than that guard did. But when you have an orgasm without wanting to, when someone is doing something you didn't want them to – that has its own smell.
I hate it. But right now, I'm following it. Because I know that the smell will lead me right to her, right to my friend Alci. And right into the den of demons, the deviant devils. My enemies.
Never expected that to happen.
When I find her, I find them both. Her and Beck, chained together in a position that they would probably have enjoyed anyway, a position they probably DO enjoy, when they are at home together.
Mouths to pussies, legs wrapped around necks. Great fun for parties and even for lazy Sundays, but no way to sleep. No way to be chained.
I can see cum dripping out of Alcione. It's not hers, and it's not Beck's, which means it can only belong to one of them. Worse, it seems to be dripping right onto Beck. I'm sure that scent will stick with her for a long time.
There's only one good thing about this scene. Well, two. First, while the cum is definitely demonic, I don't think it's addictive. Sometimes it is.
Second, there's only one guard. Another succubus, walking around them, breathing deeply, feeding from their misery and from the betrayal of their bodies. She's wearing high heels that strap around and around her leg, snaking their way up to her knees. She makes that special sound when she walks, that tapping, that clacking, that sound of control. The way she walks is the difference between dominance and submission. She is dominating them, even though they did not consent. And I can't have that.
“Hello there,” I say, stepping out into view. My feet are bare, and I keep my legs together, my hands by my side and my head down. The only difference in what we are wearing is her shoes, but the difference in our roles of power is as extreme as it gets.
“What do you want?” she asks, never even bothering to ask my name. She has no doubts about me, no reason to wonder why I'm here.
“I,” I take a deep breath, sounding coy and innocent, the way thousands of men and women alike have loved. “I was um. I was hoping that-”
“Spit it out.” she says, her tone cold, but her eyes alight. She's already turned on. Most succubi live on the edge of arousal all the time, and the idea of meeting one who is willing, even eager, to serve that arousal is almost too much to resist. But she has to sound tough, has to sound dominant, or the illusion will be shattered. And so much of sex is illusion.
“S-sorry, mi- miss.” A slight 'slip,' like I almost called her Mistress automatically. “I was hoping that I could serve you. I saw what you did today, with them” I gesture to my friends, but don't look their direction. My eyes are locked on her feet. “and I was hoping that- that I might be able to submit to, um, to you.”
She gives an evil grin, glancing at the two naked girls chained up in such an uncomfortable and humiliating position. “You want what they get?”
I nod. I feel like such an ass.
“Well then,” she says, snapping her fingers and pointing at the floor in front of her. “Kneel, bitch.”
I hurry to kneel before her, and within seconds my tongue is exploring her insides. I don't need to be a demon to smell her arousal, and I don't need an extensive tongue to taste it. But they help. Her hands grip my hair and she begins to moan immediately as I start licking. I curl my tongue on the very edges of her lips, sliding between them and moving slowly upwards, then pushing my tongue forward, turning it, twirling it, and pulling away again.
She presses my face into her crotch, and I know that the tease isn't necessary. I don't need to spend the time to spell out the alphabet with my tongue. I don't need to reach a hand underneath and press one finger inside her, and I don't need to press the other hand above her pussy and rub the tip slowly and gently. I don't need any of my tricks.
She was already so hot, so turned on, that it barely takes a touch before she's orgasming, completely out of control. Her knees go weak, she screams, and her life opens up to me.
I've had a long time to practice drawing life from my partners. I don't have to kill, and I don't have to drag it out all at once. I can pull it out slowly, carefully, sensually. Teasing it out of her, slipping my tongue around it and drawing it into myself, licking away at her, keeping the chemicals flowing, continuing her orgasm longer and longer. She pants for breath, gasping and squeezing my hair. I tease just a bit more of her energy out, like licking her soul, and she screams, tearing out huge clumps of hair.
But I have her life, and the energy is enough to heal me so fast I don't even feel the pain. I have her life, and I can slip it out of her bit by bit, weakening her without her even realizing it, without her even considering defending herself.
I could have killed her. I probably should have. That would be justice, after all. But I don't. She didn't do this to my friends. She may have played a part, but this isn't her fault. She's a victim of her own nature.
Which doesn't mean I have to take it easy on her. When she collapses, I'm pretty sure she'll be unconscious for a long, long time. Maybe she'll have a coma dream and think about what she's done.
Probably not. We aren't known for our consciences.
Once she is out, I waste no time getting my friends free. I don't untie anything, I don't look for keys. I just slash right through the chains, right through the straps. My claws can't hurt them, so there's no reason to be gentle. In a manner of seconds, they're free. Groggy, barely aware, and probably traumatized. But free.
“I have to get you out of here,” I say, picking them both up. I'm not normally this strong, but with the life of another demon inside me, I have no trouble carrying them away from that room, carrying them deeper into the castle, away from the smell, away from the memories. I have no trouble carrying them until they can snap out, just a little bit, of the state they were in.
Once I have them somewhere safe, I set them on the floor and try to wake them up. Alcione has a cut above her eye, and that whole side of her face is swollen. I run my tongue over the cut, licking at her wound until the skin heals up and the swelling goes down. She groans her way to consciousness and looks at me.
“You always get to go to the nicest places,” I say with a smirk.
“M-max?” Alcione looks like she doesn't believe her eyes, and makes them much wider just to be sure. I shift my form to look human again, though I don't know if that'll help. This isn't the same body I had last time I knew her.
“Sorry it took so long,” I say. “I kind of died, and had to deal with all that.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I'm here to rescue you,” I say.
“Aren't you a little short for a storm trooper?” Beck mumbles. Good. That means she'll get through this. I hope.
“Unless you'd like it back in your cell, your highness,” I say, smirking my trademark smirk, “I suggest we get you two the fuck out of here.”
“We're naked,” Alcione says.
“I noticed. Wait here.”
I don't need to give them as much time as I do. But a few extra seconds won't hurt. And the two serving girls that I find two hallways down don't mind giving up their clothing. In fact, they practically rip it off as soon as they see me. I guess my kind have been here for a while.
Once you've met creatures that are designed and evolved to give sexual pleasure, you have a tendency to want to keep them happy.
I didn't even have to knock them out. But I did sting them. I'm not cruel.
When I get back, Alcione and Beck are supporting one another, but both women look like they could collapse at any second. Alcione is crying, though her tough German exterior won't let me see it.
I pretend not to, tossing them the simple dresses the two servants so eagerly gave up and turning to pretend to keep watch. “Get dressed,” I say.
In a perfect world, that would be it. We'd sneak out of the castle, there'd be a montage of a journey home, and all would be wine and roses. They'd get some therapy, I'd get some forgiveness, and we could put all of this behind us.
But this is not a perfect world.
Their guard may still be asleep, but when someone finds her there, and finds my friends not there, it does raise an alarm. And it's pretty clear that they were rescued by a succubus. I did not think this through.
I lead them towards the outside wall and start to cut into a window, peeling away the stained glass and making a nice escape route for them. “You get out and you run,” I tell them. “Do you hear me?”
“Maxine?” Alcione is still confused. “Nein. Nein, I can't.” she reaches out and touches my cheek with a tenderness that I have only ever wanted from her. “Mein schlampe,” she says, the slur coming out of her mouth with complete endearment.
I smile and kiss her hand. “Yeah,” I say. “And you have to go. There's no time. I'll distract them.”
“But how will you get away?” Beck asks.
I shrug. “Maybe I won't. Could be worse.”
Alcione goes pale and shakes her head. Okay, apparently it couldn't be worse. Wow. Considering some of the things I've seen her do, some of the things I've been lucky enough to be a part of, things that would give priests heart attacks and erections at the same time, it must have been bad. Like, really bad.
So bad that they're not going to leave me here.
Oh, I did not want to do this.
Don't do it Maxine.
It's the only way.
Oh, I'm going to regret this.
I step towards Alcione and take her face in my hands. I press my lips softly against hers, my forehead touching hers, and I whisper into her mind.
It's a sound. A word that isn't in any language. The sound of a madman playing the fiddle while his city burned around him. Those notes of music, combined with the smell of the flames, the taste of the ashes, and the indelible image of people screaming while Nero laughs; I whisper them all into her mind.
“That's my name,” I tell her. “When you're safe, call me. Just call my name, and I'll be there.” I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against hers and already mentally kicking myself for doing this. “I've never told anyone my True Name before. Don't make me regret it.”
She shakes her head. “Nein,” she says.
I don't know if she's saying she won't make me regret it, or if she's saying she won't leave. Just in case, I pick up Beck and toss her through the hole in the window, keeping her from touching any of the sharp edges.
Alcione nearly dives after her, and with a nudge of my currently enhanced strength, I manage to get her out there as well.
Just in time for the demon to come round the corner with her guards.
I recognize her. Not her face; I recognize her smell. The smell that was dripping out of my friend. The smell that came from her cock when she used it to defile one of the only humans I've ever given a shit about.
There should be a dramatic fight scene, but there isn't. I'm not a fighter. But what I am is a lover.
So I step forward, quickly stinging the two succubi on either side of her, rapidly hitting them with huge doses of my venom and dropping them to an orgasmic heap.
“Who are you?” the demon asks, her hands clenched into fists, her muscles bulging, and her demonic penis as erect and hard and big as my forearm.
I shrug. “No one who matters,” I say. I run my hands through my hair, taking a slow step towards her, my eyes locked on her cock. “No one to worry about. No one whose name you need.”
“Where are my prisoners?”
I shrug. “I ate them,” I say. Then I gesture at the two succubi. “How else could I do that?”
“You killed them?”
I put a finger to my lips and press my toe into the floor, turning it a few times and adopting a pouty face. “I got hungry,” I say, in my best innocent little girl voice. Then I drop my eyes down her body and back down to her cock. “I'm still hungry,” I say, licking my lips with a smile.
I'm not saying that demons are stupid. I'm just saying that a succubus who knows what she's doing, who knows how to manipulate the scent on the air, who knows how to move just right- she can get a lot done. She can crawl naked through the dark hallway of a castle, her hips moving hypnotically and cat like as she crawls closer and closer, eyes locked onto a member that is clearly eager to meet her, and that is big enough to prevent enough blood from going to its owner's brain. And she can do it in that perfect way, that practiced way that seems so natural, that there is no resistance. There's no need to resist. I'm moving like I'm starving, like I'm desperate for her cock. Like there is nothing in the universe more important to me than sucking her down my throat and proving to her that I don't even have a gag reflex.
She says something else, something about being in trouble, but my hand has already wrapped its way around her shaft, and when I look up at her, I'm pretty sure she has no real idea what she was talking about. “I was bad?” I say, still all innocent sex kitten. “I guess that means you'll have to punish me.” It's not hypnosis, but if you say things in the right tone, you can get a lot across. “After.”
I wrap my lips around her cock, sliding it into my mouth as my elongated tongue wraps around the shaft a few times. My mouth is open wide, my lips just barely touching her flesh. Now I can slide my mouth down her shaft while pulling up with my tongue. Her cock inside a cock sleeve inside a cock sleeve. Okay, there is something hot about that.
So I give her the best blow job she's ever had, my hands rubbing where my mouth can't get, my tongue doing things no human tongue can possibly do. She moans, she groans, she cums right down my throat.
And I drink her life. I drink her life with that same slow tease, opening the gates inside her. My hands move from her cock and find her pussy, fingering her until she's cumming twice, until I have two places to pull her life from. I suck and I finger, I moan and I lash out with my tail, stabbing her again and again, causing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. I lose count, probably long after she did.
She starts to realize what's happening, and tries to push me off. She tries to get me away from her. But it's too late. I have her so deep inside me, I have her life draining down my throat so hard that there there's no way for her to get loose. Not when she kicks me hard enough to break all the ribs on my left side. With all that life flowing into me, the ribs heal almost as fast as they crack, and I barely notice the pain.
Not when she stabs a knife into my shoulder and wiggles the blade around, grinding it against my bones and leaving it in so I can't heal.
And certainly not when she tries to burn me, when she puts fire to my skin as if it would do anything. Fire can't even singe me. I'm a demon, sure as any of them.
She tries to scream, but pleasure keeps getting in the way of her rage. She tears at me with her claws, but groans when I stab her with my tail a few more times. She falls to her knees, and I follow her down, not letting go, not letting up, not even breathing.
She pounds on me, breaking my collar bone, snapping my neck. I feel her claws tearing at my wings, but none of it matters. She's getting weaker, and I'm getting stronger. We've already passed the point where her resistance mattered. We've already passed the point where I might have let her live.
I'm draining her life, and with it some of her memories. I can see what she did to my friends. And I'm going to make sure she can't do it again.
When I finish, she's nothing but a shriveled husk, her spirit bound into hell until after I die. She was so strong. I'm able to smash the other two succubi together and knock them out. I feel like I could take on a whole army.
An army, but not a goddess. Not a goddess of lust. Especially not after I've just eaten one of her favorite soldiers, and supposedly eaten two of her favorite prisoners.
I collapse to the ground, feeling the pleasure of her presence pressing down on me, demanding that I submit, insisting that I lose any will to resist. She is going to make me suffer such exquisite torments for what I have done.
I don't struggle. I don't resist. I dive into the submission, letting her have whatever she wants, letting her do whatever she wants. I will be the perfect slave for her, submit to her every whim. I will suffer her wrath and I will never give her any reason to think that I was even contemplating resistance.
I will submit to her so completely that she won't be able to stop me. I'll serve her so utterly that she won't be able to hate me. I'll give in to her deepest fantasies so completely that she'll never be able to blame me for what happens.
It worked on human souls for centuries. It'll work on a god.
Submission and Dominance. Two roles, both doing the exact same thing.
This is going to be fun...