4 comments/ 15656 views/ 19 favorites Tristessa: A Succubus in Love By: MistressTrinityJones It's never difficult for me to find a man. Men want sex more than they want anything else, even money or power, for those are just ways to increase opportunities for sex. In my nearly twelve centuries on the globe, I'd never gone hungry for more than a few hours. No, I'm not a vampire, if that's what you're thinking, although they are out there. The world is full of things ordinary people think are mythical, if they think about them at all. Actually, the vampires have had it pretty easy of late, what with all their pop culture cache. I'm a purer demon, a succubus. I feed on souls, not blood, and I don't do it with my mouth. In the simplest sense, I fuck men to death. As I reach climax, my pussy emits a hormone-like substance that almost immediately triggers orgasm in my victim. But it's no ordinary orgasm. It's more like an orgasm tsunami. It lasts several minutes, and is exponentially more intense and pleasurable than a regular climax. It also, essentially, converts their life essence—their soul—into ejaculate, which is poured forth in copious quantities, nearly three liters, in fact, before it's all over. It is this life essence that nourishes me and keeps me alive. Losing it, unfortunately, has quite the opposite effect on my partner. Still, it's pretty much the best way to die, as far as I can tell. In my natural appearance, my skin is red (though skin tone varies among succubae), my hair black, and I've got little horns and a long pointed tail -- the very cliché image of a devil girl, in fact. That image didn't come from nowhere, after all. But except on Halloween, it's kind of tough to mingle when you look like that; fortunately, we can alter our appearance more or less at will. Not entirely, mind you—my basic features and size can't change. But skin tone, hair color and length, eye color, and the horns and tail, all these things I can alter or hide, right up until the moment I feed. Then I revert to my true form. I usually embrace a very pale white skin and keep my natural black hair while giving myself deep purple eyes and lips to match. Kind of a Goth look, as it's come to be known in recent years, although I was rocking it centuries ago, thank you very much. Anyway, as I was saying, getting men has never been an issue. Love, on the other hand, well, that's another story. In fact, demons aren't supposed to care about love. Most of us have some sort of physical need upon which our survival depends -- blood, souls, pain, and so on. But emotions generally don't enter into it. Maslow's hierarchy definitely does not apply to demons. And yet, for whatever reason, I came to develop what you might call a conscience. It's this, I suppose, that allowed me to fall in love after so many years. I don't know, and I can't explain it. This is one of the common misperceptions about demons and other "supernatural" beings -- that we have some sort of insight into the true workings of the universe. It's not like I have the gods on speed dial. Although I do know several of them on a casual basis. That's neither here nor there. The fact is, I fell in love. And I fell in love with a woman. And about women, I knew next to nothing. Her name was Charlotte. I saw her one night across a bar in London. I was smitten instantly. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Her face was perfect, like some sort of Roman statue, her skin flawless, pale, though less so than mine. Her dirty blonde hair, thick and lustrous, hung across her shoulders in gentle waves, parted in the middle. Her eyes were green, and I wanted more than anything to just fall into them—into her. She looked, somehow, equal parts vulnerable and completely self-assured. I would do anything for this woman; that much I knew within seconds of laying eyes on her. I didn't question it. Twelve centuries of experience will give you some confidence, even if you've never tried to pick up a woman before. At least she looked like she was alone. I sidled up next to her. "Hi. I'm Tristessa," I said with a not-too-seductive smile. "Charlotte," she replied, not overly interested. "Seems like a nice place." "I guess. My first time here." "Mine too," I said. "Well, enjoy," she said as she waved to someone at a booth. I couldn't help but admire her curves as she walked away, her thin waist rolling out perfectly into ample hips and ass, all accentuated by the skin-tight black fabric of her dress. I could hardly believe my luck when I saw the man she sat across from in the booth. Everything happens for a reason, whether you know it right then or not. I ordered another drink and watched them talk for a few minutes. Clearly a first date, I could tell from their body language, although I had other ways of knowing it was. Eventually I made my way over. "Ellison," I said to the man. He looked like he was in his early 40s, very distinguished, with tan skin and a closely cropped goatee that showed just a hint of grey. The girls wouldn't notice the grey as much as they would notice his fifty-thousand dollar watch. I smiled down at Charlotte. "Tristessa," Ellison said, doing his best to look cordial. "You two know each other?" Charlotte asked. "Do you mind?" I said, sitting next to her without waiting for an answer. "We're...acquaintances." "I'd say we know each other by reputation and little else," Ellison said. "We work in the same...industry," I offered Charlotte by way of explanation. "I haven't actually seen him since..." "It's been a very long time," Ellison said. "San Francisco, if I recall." "And you two look like you're just beginning to get to know each other," I said, smiling. "We met the other day at a book store," Ellison said. "Charlotte had the graciousness to agree to meet me for a drink." He was directing all his charm at her. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," I said. "Just wanted to say hi after so many years." To Charlotte I added playfully, "Nice to see you again. Be careful with this one—he's got a bit of a reputation." Ninety minutes later, a valet brought around a very expensive black Mercedes, and Ellison and Charlotte came out of the bar. He held the door for her, quite gentlemanly right to the end, and then positioned himself behind the wheel. The advantages of demonhood are many, not least of which is the ability to climb, leap, and run with a degree of speed, silence, and dexterity of which even the most adroit human is bereft. From my vantage point on the roof opposite the bar, I could easily see the car turn north and then onto the New King's Road. After several minutes of pursuit, they turned into a garage beneath a posh flat in Belgravia. Three minutes later I saw the lights turn on in the top-floor apartment. It was pretty obviously his place, I judged once I reached the balcony. The décor had nothing like a woman's touch, and most of it was old and overly distinguished. A number of medieval weapons festooned the walls, a very unsubtle touch on Ellison's part, I thought. I watched as he opened a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses, after which he led Charlotte to a well-appointed leather sofa, pausing only to turn on the fireplace with the flick of a switch. Their talk continued, Ellison ratcheting up the charm all the while. It wouldn't be long now before he made his move. If you haven't figured it out by now, Ellison was an incubus, my male counterpart. He did to human women what I did to human men. Now, there are two ways to kill a demon, generally speaking. One involves very specific ritual and incantations, and often some mixtures of obscure ingredients. The other is to chop off our heads. I eyed a nice set of crossed axes that hung over the mantle. If they weren't just for show, they ought to do the job. Just then, Charlotte adeptly dodged a kiss from Ellison and rose from the couch, gesturing toward the very axes on which my rather simple plan was now hinging. Ellison followed her, his attention now on the axes as well. She seemed to be asking questions, and he answering. After a few moments, he reached up and took one down, holding it out to her with both hands. She lightly ran a finger over the edge of the blade, then suddenly jerked her finger away and slipped it through her lips into her mouth, giggling. "Yes, it's very sharp," I could imagine Ellison saying, although I could hear nothing through the thick glass. I could see Charlotte's lips, though, and she clearly asked, "May I?" Ellison nodded, and she gently took the axe from him, weighing it carefully in her hands, measuring its heft and balance. And then, with a sudden and graceful motion, she swung it. That was the end of Ellison. It would have made sense for me, at that point, to leave. But I believe I mentioned I was already head-over-heels in love with this woman. So instead, I went in, yanking the patio door hard and cracking its locking mechanism. "It's not what it looks like," Charlotte said. "I can explain." She was still holding the axe. "You don't need to explain. I told you he and I worked in the same industry." "So you...you know what he was?" "I do. I came here to save you. Obviously you had it under control though." "So you're a demon hunter, too?" I had to think about that for a moment. I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to get my head chopped off, either. Finally, I said, "Something like that." "How did we both wind up targeting him?" "I don't care. Look, Charlotte. I'm just gonna come right out and say it. I find you impossibly beautiful, and I want to do very unchaste things to you, and I hope to hell you're into women." "I'm not. But I do get horny as fuck every time I finish a job, and usually wind up screwing the first semi-attractive person that comes along." "Do I qualify?" I began to move slowly toward her, as slinky and seductive as I could manage to be, which was very. Now, succubae have no innate ability to seduce women as we do men, but we are pretty much the sexiest fucking things you will ever see in your life—which, unfortunately, is usually just about over at that point. I could feel my heart pounding, hoping against hope that my charms and her horniness would reach some sort of critical mass. I felt like if I could only get my lips to hers, it would happen. Our eyes were locked, and she began, I thought, to look more and more vulnerable the closer I drew to her, biting her lower lip gently. If it wasn't a come-on, I didn't know what was. I didn't much like the axe that still dangled from her right hand, though. When she swung it upward, I leapt to the side, flying over the back of the couch and landing on my feet. "Succubus whore!" she yelled, reaching up and grabbing the second axe that still hung on the mantle. "You knew who I was all along! You came here to try to save him!" "No. I saw you across the bar, and I fell in love with you. I know it sounds ridiculous. Just as you know that I can't hurt you. I'm a succubus, not an incubus!" "You're a demon. That's all that matters." "If you'd let me explain..." I trailed off when one of the axes flew through the air toward my head. I ducked, letting it sail past, where it embedded itself into the wall behind me. She was hard on it's heels, leaping over the sofa with the second axe drawn back menacingly. I stepped forward and ducked to the side, allowing her momentum to carry her past me. As she went by I turned and flung myself into her, throwing her against the wall. At the moment of impact I landed a hard right to her jaw, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. I carried her limp body into Ellison's bedroom, passing his headless corpse that was already beginning to reduce itself to a runny goo. That's what happens to demon bodies. Within a few hours, the goo would turn to gas, and there would be no trace left of the once-feared incubus except his well-tailored suit and alligator shoes. As I had expected, Ellison's bed was well-appointed with various restraints, and just as Charlotte was beginning to stir, I had finished securing her arms and legs in a spread-eagle position. Which was enough to get my juices flowing, to be sure, but that wasn't what this was about. At least not yet. As she came to, she struggled against her bonds, to no avail. A look of fear came over her face. "Charlotte, I promise you I won't hurt you," I said. "I need you to listen to me for a few minutes." "I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" "No, not at the moment. I'm sorry about the jaw. You were trying to kill me, though." "Just so you know, I'll try again given half a chance." "We'll see. Now listen. Yes, I am a succubus. I'm nearly twelve centuries old, and I have killed I don't know how many men. But early on, I started to feel bad about what I needed to do to survive. So for more than a thousand years, I have only chosen my prey from two groups -- the terminally ill, or the exceedingly bad. Lonely people who are going to die anyway, I give them the greatest pleasure they've ever known, and then I release them from their suffering. And the rest are people that, put simply, deserve to die. In fact, I hate sometimes to even give them the pleasure, but I do sort of enjoy their deaths." "So are you trying to tell me you're a, what, a good demon?" "Well, as good as I can be, I guess, given what I have to do to live. I really was going to kill Ellison. I had no idea you were a demon hunter. I can't explain it, but I'm in love with you. And regardless of the fact that you obviously had the situation under control, I feel like the fact the you, Ellison, and I were all in the same place at the same time is the universe's way of showing that you and I...well, that we should be together. Look, I've never been with a woman before either, never even really thought about it. But the moment I saw you...well, I just knew. It was like a bolt of lightning. I'm not a bad person, Charlotte." "You're not a person at all." "Well, that's semantics. I'm a being. I'm not a human. I don't think that means I'm not a person. The men I choose...I'm either helping them, or helping society by getting rid of them. Hell, I do more or less the same thing you do!" "Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, here I am, tied up and helpless, waiting for you to kill me." "I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I just needed to keep you from trying to kill me for a few minutes so I could talk to you." "Well, you've talked. Now what?" "Now," I said, changing into my true form, "now I want to rip off your clothes, and bury my face in your cunt, and make you come like you've never even dreamed about. My kind are the most sexual beings in existence, and even though I don't need to feed right now, and couldn't feed on you anyway, I have never wanted to fuck someone so bad." I reached around with my tail and ran the tip of it gently up her arm, along her cheek, and across her lips. With more than a little satisfaction, I felt her mouth open ever so slightly. "But instead, I'm going to do nothing," I continued, shifting back to human form, "except undo your restraints, and disappear. But we'll meet again, sweet Charlotte. We'll meet again." Sensibly, she lay still as I released her from her bondage, knowing that without a weapon she was no match for me. I looked longingly at her as I backed out of the room. If there was a glimmer of anything other than hatred in her eyes, I couldn't see it. I wasn't exactly hungry, but my pussy was throbbing with lust. On a whim, slipped into an apartment three stories down and found my way to the bedroom. Another benefit of being a demon is excellent night vision, so I could see my way around the flat easily enough without turning on a light, and, when I came to the bedroom, saw a single man sleeping. For his benefit, I flipped on the light, which woke him with a start. I just smiled at him. "Who...who are you?" he stammered. He was middle-aged, a bit overweight though not entirely unattractive. "I'm a thief. I broke in." "W-why did you turn the light on?" "To see what there was to steal. What do you do?" "What?" "What do you do? For a living? Your job." "I'm a -- an executive." "For who?" "British Petroleum." "Good enough," I said, taking off my shirt. "What are you doing?" "Do you like my tits?" I asked, removing my bra. "What?" "My tits. Do you like them?" By now I was crawling onto the bed. "Yes, they're...quite mmmm." His voice was suddenly muffled as I pushed my nipple into his mouth, simultaneously unzipping my skirt. Within a few seconds, I had us both naked. I wasn't in much of a mood for this to take very long. I just wanted to get off. As I climbed onto his cock, his look of bewilderment gave way to a dopey look of joy. Stupid bastard. I slapped him, hard, mostly because I felt like it. He seemed to like it though, and I felt him grow a tiny bit harder. "Oh, you like it rough, do you?" I reached down and began to rub my clit, and could already feel my orgasm roiling up within me. As it built, my body involuntarily shifted to its demon form. I always enjoy the look in their eyes when that happens. Sheer terror, and yet they're always distracted by how amazing their dick feels right at that moment. By then I was coming, the walls of my cunt pulsating around his hard shaft, secreting the substance that, two seconds later, would make his cum begin to spurt out inside me. He began to cry out in ecstasy, arching his hips up, pressing the head of his cock deep inside me, unsure what was happening to make him feel so much better than he'd ever felt before but enjoying it nevertheless. As his cum began to fill me and dribble out around his shaft, my own orgasm was renewed, and wave after wave of dense pleasure coursed through every inch of body. I whipped my tail around and shoved it into his mouth, the sensation of him gagging on it adding to my enjoyment. As he continued to come I started to fuck his throat, and whatever discomfort he felt from this was far outweighed by the relentless surge of pure pleasure that engulfed him body and mind alike. Sometimes I'm almost jealous of what they get to experience. I suspect they know they're dying, but they really don't care. His eyes grew wider and wider as I continued to thrust my tail in and out of his throat while grinding down onto him, cum beginning to pool up between us and drip down onto the sheets. Then the anguished sounds gurgling from his throat ceased as his breathing stopped. His cock was still spurting cum into my now-saturated cunt even as his consciousness began to fade. I withdrew my tail from his mouth as his now-lifeless head lolled to the side, eyes open wide, staring emptily. As always, my orgasm had been intense, and the absorption of his life essence energized me in a way I don't think humans can experience. And yet it was probably the least satisfying fuck of my long life. It wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't with who I wanted. Charlotte. Beautiful, dangerous Charlotte. I would find her again. Somehow, I would make her mine. Tristessa: A Succubus in Love Ch. 02 I'd been hanging around London for weeks now, hoping to find Charlotte, or at least that she'd find me. Well, not so much the latter—I definitely wanted the element of surprise on my side, and not hers. Self-preservation and all that. Word around town from other demons was that she was probably affiliated with the Circle of the Purity Scroll, a group dating from ancient Rome that sought to rid the world of demonic beings. They were a pretty shadowy bunch, though, and no one seemed to know anything about them having a significant presence in London. I was beginning to think she had been here simply to deal with Ellison, but even if that were the case, I would have been surprised if she hadn't stuck around knowing I was in town. In any case, a girl's gotta eat. As per my usual MO, I'd been preying on either real scumbags, the kind of people that deserved to die, or on hard-luck cases: those with terminal illnesses or who were about to kill themselves. Cancer support groups were always a good place to find someone. In fact, attending them was part of my strategy to find Charlotte. I thought she might put two and two together, after what I'd told her, and realize these would be a prime spot for me. But so far, no luck. I struck out in the feeding department as well; the only men at the meeting were some combination of old, fat, and gross. No poor souls being cut down in the prime of life. It had been a week now since my last feeding, though, so I was getting pretty desperate. I'd heard rumors of a sex club controlled by the Russian mafia. Real sick stuff; kidnapped Eastern European girls that upper-class twits would spend hundreds of thousand of pounds to rape and torture to death. Through some well-placed cash outlays of my own (when you're twelve-hundred years old, money isn't much of an issue; you've had plenty of time to make some solid investments) I got a line on a girl who was being taken off a cargo ship and sent to wherever this place was. I got down to the docks just in time; she was going willingly enough. Probably thought all she had to do was some porn or prostitution, the poor thing. I was hoping they were going to load her into the back of a van or something, from where I could have taken her place unseen, but she was just riding in the back seat of a BMW 750. There was a driver and one other guy riding shotgun. I followed them instead, keeping to the rooftops as much as possible. Eventually the car turned into an underground parking garage in Acton. I scrambled down to the street and down the ramp just in time to see the three of them get into an elevator. It stopped at the fourth floor of what was a five-story building. Back up to the roof then. I figured they had at least the top two floors. The operation probably was largely a conventional brothel, with, I assumed, one or two "special" rooms for the rough stuff. It wasn't a particularly new idea. Anywhere there was too much money and too many easy thrills bred a market for this sort of thing. London, in particular, had a long history of sexual sacrifice. Let's just say Jack the Ripper didn't happen in a vacuum. But that's a story for another time. The doorway on the roof was well-secured. The locks wouldn't have been too much of a problem, but the alarms certainly were. I made my way around the side of the building along the fifth floor, peering into what windows weren't fully covered. It was, as I had suspected, an ordinary brothel. As far as I could tell, though, each window was alarmed. The fourth floor was more of the same, until I came to room with an open window. There was one man inside, sitting in front of a bank of video monitors. He was absentmindedly stroking his cock, his pants unbuckled and pulled down just enough to give him access. A security guy, no doubt, but when you've got nothing to look at but grainy cam footage of people fucking, I guess it's easy enough to lose your focus. He wasn't the one I wanted, but I was awfully hungry. Before he knew what was happening, I had straddled him, slipping my cunt right over his erect member. He started to say, "What the hell are..." (in Russian -- 1200 years gives you lots of time to learn languages, too) but was soon overcome by the intense pleasure he was feeling as I pushed down onto him. He was actually pretty big, and I say that as a girl who's not easily impressed. Nor was he bad looking. He had made some poor career choices, though. I began to grind into him, pushing him deeper into my cunt, moving my hips in a circular motion. The sense of fullness his cock was giving me was nice, to say the least, and in any case I wasn't in much of a mood to take my time. I focused my mind on the sensation of his hot, engorged cock sliding in and out of me, and in a few seconds I was coming -- which meant that he was, too, a few seconds after that. As usual, the sensations he was experiencing made the fact that I had suddenly turned bright red and grown horns and a tail not all that important to him. As his life force spurted into me for the next two or three minutes, his body wracked with an unknowable and unimaginable pleasure even as he passed from this world, I came again, the spasms of my vagina squeezing out his excess ejaculate that, pooling up, began to make a loud squelching sound as I continued to move up and down on his nearly exhausted body. His eyes were wide with wonder as the last of his soul dribbled from his cock. As I climbed off of him, his body fell off the chair onto the floor. I quickly cleaned up with a fistful of tissues and started to examine the video monitors. There were several BDSM-themed rooms with various accoutrements -- sawhorses, shackles embedded into the walls, floggers, and the like. But outside of the décor, they were just ordinary rooms, except for one. This one looked medical or clinical, all white tile, with a padded leather thing that was half-chair, half-bed, and all sinister. It was either for people with a serious medical fetish, or it was the torture room -- much easier to clean up blood. The monitor was labeled 404, so I figured it was on the fourth floor, same as me. There was no one in the room, yet. I was pretty well sated, hunger-wise, after that, which of course diminished my biological imperative to feed but nevertheless left me with something of a dilemma. Here was a group of evil men, doing very bad things. I could, probably, one by one, go through the place and fuck each one to death. That seemed kind of wasteful, though, when I knew I could keep coming back here every time I got hungry. But then there was the problem of the girls. Sure, I could get the one who was heading for the torture room out of there, but they'd just send another one in her place. I could try to get them all out of there, but I'm just one person and I can't solve every problem in the world. It was time to come up with a plan. I spent thirty minutes or so watching the video monitors. There were maybe ten or twelve girls active at any one time. There were two rooms that were dormitories, with a dozen or so beds in each room. There seemed to be eight guys around the place, five on this floor and three upstairs. Two of them on the 4th floor were ensconced in an office; the rest seemed to be guards. There were also two guys downstairs at the elevator in the garage, doormen more or less, and a woman who went back and forth, escorting clients up to the girls. One of the two guys in the office went out and checked on this or that every few minutes; the other never seemed to get out from behind his desk. Probably the head guy. I slipped down the hall to what I figured was the office. I figured right. "Who are you?" the number two man asked, in Russian. The whole conversation was going to be in Russian. I addressed myself not to him, but to the man behind the desk. "I'm from Sergei," I said. There's always a Sergei somewhere higher up. "A gift for the both of you. For your hard work." I started to take off my shirt. "We have the run of the girls already," the second man said, to which the head man said, "Shut up, Mikhail." I smiled seductively at Mikhail and said, "Yes but with me you don't need condoms. I'm clean." My shirt was off by now, and my bra soon followed. I draped myself over the desk on my stomach and began to unbutton the head man's pants. By the time I pulled his cock out, he was already hard. I went right to work with my mouth. Succubae don't have gag reflexes, so if you think you've had a good blowjob (or can give one), you haven't. I took him right down my throat. He grasped the back of my head and pushed me down further, my lips now pressing hard into his pubis. After a few seconds, he pulled me up by my hair, not letting his cock fall from my mouth, and then pushed me back down. He started to do this more rapidly. I let the drool pour out of my mouth, dripping down his shaft and soaking his pubic hair. After a couple minutes of this, I pulled back and held my face just inches from his, smiling. "What's your name, lover?" "Alexei." "Well, Alexei, tell your friend to get over on that couch and to get his cock out. If you think my mouth is good, you're both in for a real treat. Tell him how good my mouth is." He was putty in my hands already. "Her mouth is amazing," he said. "Now go over to the couch. You heard her." Mikhail didn't waste any time. What was it with these Russian guys? Alexei was more or less average, but Mikhail was even bigger than the guy in the video room. I sort of wished it was the other way around, because his was the one that was going to go in my ass. I don't do anal all that often because it doesn't get me anywhere, feeding-wise. I generally saved it for when I actually liked a guy, for whatever reason, and didn't want to kill him. Not that I liked Mikhail, but I had my reasons. I quickly dropped my pants and panties after kicking off my shoes, and got on my knees in front of Mikhail. I licked my way up his long, thick, shaft, and then took him balls deep in one swift move. He gasped and I could feel his muscles tense up. I stuck my tongue out and licked his balls while he was still deep into my throat. Once I was got his cock nice and slick, I stood up, turned around, and lowered my ass onto him. It was a tight fit but within a minute he was buried inside me. It felt pretty fucking good. I hadn't had a solid assfuck in years, actually. But I had other things on my mind. Like Alexei. Poor Alexei. He had no idea what he was in for. Then again, neither had however many girls he'd sent to their deaths in the torture chamber. I beckoned him over with a come-hither glance, wrapped my fist around his cock, and pulled him toward my glistening pussy. As he entered me, I began to rub my clit furiously and with Mikhail's enormous member buried in my asshole, I started to come in mere seconds, my skin suddenly turning red, my tail and horns popping out. Alexei soon followed suit, convulsions racking his body, his eyes rolling back in his head as his life force-turned-cum pumped into me. He was groaning and writhing for what seemed like longer than usual, and his ejaculate was flowing out between my things, dripping down onto Mikhail underneath me. Meanwhile, I had wrapped my tail around Mikhail's throat, choking him but not to the point where he was going to die. Not yet. He tried to call out to Alexei but didn't really have the breath to do so, and in any case Alexei, obviously, couldn't answer. His mind was elsewhere, busy embracing his own imminent demise, the pleasure pulsating upward from his cock outweighing the terror that gripped his heart. Even as his consciousness faded away, his body kept jerking in and out of me, fucking me to the very last. He finally slipped out of me and fell to the floor. As he did so I released my tail from Mikhail's throat, rose up off his cock, spun around so I was facing him, and, in the same motion, impaled my dripping cunt onto him (girls, don't ever do ass-to-pussy like that -- I can't get Chlamydia, but you can). "What the fuck..." he gasped. "What are you? What did you do to him?" "I killed him," I said, smiling down at him while I fucked him. Already, the pleasure was controlling him. He knew things weren't right, but his cock wouldn't let him do anything about it. "H-how?" "With my pussy. I sucked out his soul, Mikhail, and as soon as I come, I'm going to do the same to you. Unless..." I trailed off. "Anything!" he yelled. "Anything?" I grinned. "Yes! Please!" "Are you sure you don't want to come? I promise you you'll never feel better." "I don't want to die. Please." "Good. I have plans for you anyway. You're going to take over this little operation now that Alexei's gone. I know he's not the guy who's really in charge, but whoever that is, you're going to convince him that you're the new guy. And then you're going to change things around here. The girls are going to get better treatment. Access to doctors. Better food. More space. More money. Twice as much money. And the torture room, the killings. Those are going to be off the menu. Understand?" "Yes. Please, lady, I'll do anything you say." "I'll be checking on you. You know what a succubus is, don't you?" "Yes." "Good. Then you know I can come to you in your dreams." I couldn't, actually, but it was a common misconception, and as long as he thought I could, it was good enough for me. "Don't fuck this up, or it'll be the last thing you do." With that I climbed off him. On my way out the door, I gave him a look I'm sure he'll never forget, equal parts seductive grin and threatening glare. I was nice and full now, and even had a good deed under my belt. Quite a day. Not what I was hoping for, exactly, but at least I wasn't hungry anymore. It was getting dark outside, and I had a yen for a nap before hitting the town later that night. Not for feeding purposes of course—just for entertainment. Catch a band, have some drinks, that sort of thing. I caught the Red Line at East Acton and took a seat on the far side of the train. The west-bound train pulled up just as we were pulling out. I found myself locking eyes though the window with a luscious-looking girl. She was staring right back. Contented as I was from the afternoon's activities, my mind probably wasn't as sharp as it ought to have been. It wasn't until my train began to pull out that I realized the girl was Charlotte. Tristessa: A Succubus in Love Ch. 03 Sit there and watch Charlotte disappear behind me, or do something drastic like pull the emergency stop or kick out a window? Given the level of security around the Tube, and not wanting to wind up in prison, I chose the former, as much as it pained me to do so. When we got to White City, I thought about getting off and trying to catch a westbound train, but what good would that do me? I didn't know when or where she'd be getting off, and for all I knew, she had left the train as soon as mine started pulling out. Dammit! So close! Well, if she was following me, the best thing was to get off here and stand as conspicuously as I could on the platform to make sure she saw me. I let four trains go by before giving up on that plan. Dejected, I boarded again and rode into Tottenham Court Road, and made my way up to the street. It was completely dark out now, and the city was alive with lights and traffic and the bustle of a typical Friday night. I wasn't feeling much like having fun anymore; in fact, I felt like giving up on the whole damn thing and going back home to Los Angeles. But I knew that I wouldn't. In truth, there was nothing on my mind but Charlotte. I sauntered down through Soho southwest toward the May Fair where I'd been staying since I arrived two months ago. The clubs and the pubs were hopping; just the sort of scene I'd been looking forward to before my chance encounter on the Tube. Now I just wanted to get to my room and go to sleep. My eyes played tricks on me as I maneuvered along the crowded sidewalks, and every dirty blonde with long, wavy hair made me think she was Charlotte for a split second. Sometimes more. Sigh. At least I wasn't hungry. That would have made for a very bad night. I poured myself a tall glass of scotch and dropped a couple of ice cubes into it, settling down onto the bed with the well-worn copy of Moby Dick I almost always travelled with. It was my thirty-seventh time through it, and I was beginning to feel like I got most of the allusions by now. But I couldn't concentrate. I kept identifying with Ahab, thinking Charlotte was my white whale. I put the book down and began to rub my hand around my pussy, grabbing my labia together and pinching my clit through them while I pictured Charlotte's perfect ass walking away from the bar on the first night I'd seen her. I was getting myself pretty worked up, but in truth I didn't have anything solid to fantasize about, never having had any sort of lesbian experience. I flipped the TV on and scrolled through the menu to the porn options, and then to the lesbian category. I went with Sapphic Slave Sluts 3, and it definitely did the trick. I quickly slipped my panties off, and as the titular girls, clad in various permutations of leather, latex, and fishnets, went at it, I began to furiously work first two and then three fingers in and out of my now-sopping pussy. Engrossed both in the action on screen and in my own ministrations, I nearly leapt out of the bed in shock when I heard a voice say, "You are just completely depraved, aren't you?" It was Charlotte. She had come in from the balcony. She had on tight black pants and knee-high black leather boots, and she looked as beautiful as anyone ever could. Except for the primed crossbow she had pointed at my chest. "Fuck, you scared me!" I said, equal parts happy to see her and worried about my prospects for a continued life. "It's natural to be scared right before you die," she said, her voice cold as ice. "I'm sending you back to whatever hell it is you came from." "I'm from Prague, actually, if you go back far enough. Although L.A. at present. That whole demons-are-from-hell thing is actually a big misconception. We're from Earth like everyone else. I really think if you just took the time to get to..." I talk a lot when I'm nervous. "Shut up!" she said, but there was something new in her voice, a tiny bit of wavering, I thought. The crossbow dropped just a bit, and a look of uncertainty entered the brilliant green eyes that had just seconds before been full of steely resolve. Now, my own not-insignificant allure as a physical specimen, quite apart from any of my demonic attributes, would have had most men a bit distracted, especially given my compromised situation clothing-wise. Add in the powerful sex hormones I give off when aroused, even across a room, and it's the rare human male I wouldn't have been able to seduce at that point, even had they been a trained demon hunter. I began to wonder -- to hope -- that my natural secretions were having at least some of that effect on Charlotte. It was the only chance I had. I'm fast, but not that fast. I got onto my hands and knees, the milky globes of my breasts dangling as I began to crawl across the bed toward her. I locked my eyes on hers, in part to give her my best seductive gaze and in part to look for any glimmer of movement that might let me know she was about to pull the trigger. Slowly, sensuously, with every ounce of feminine wiles I'd developed in all my centuries, I edged closer. I reached the edge of the bed, still alive, to my pleasant surprise. We were only about three feet apart now. As gracefully as I could, I swung my legs around, pivoting on my ass and making no effort to hide my still-wet womanhood as I did so. As I stood, I could see the crossbow was definitely pointed even lower than it had been, and while it was nice to not have it aimed right at my heart anymore, I was still pretty keen to avoid a bolt to the gut. Our eyes remained locked. "Tell me you haven't been thinking about me," I said quietly. "Tell me you haven't wished I did more than just talk to you when I had you tied to the bed." Too much Sapphic Slave Sluts. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. The crossbow shot up a few inches. But, now just two feet from her, well, I was that fast. I spun my body out of the line of fire, shifting to my demon form as I did so. I could feel the wind from the loosed bolt as it missed me by less than an inch, and then I was on her. Unlike many other kinds of demons, succubae aren't exceptionally strong, but we're stronger than humans, especially in our true form. As I moved to her left, she swung the stock of the crossbow at me, but I caught her arm in my left hand even as I wrapped my tail around her throat. The crossbow dropped to the floor. With my right hand, I grabbed her hair, pulling her sharply down while throwing my weight onto her, the combined effect of which was for her to crumple to the ground, me on top of her. I kept my tail around her throat tightly enough to make her breathing challenging, but not enough to cut it off completely. "Now," I said, trying to ignore the waves of desire pulsing up from between my legs, "this is the second time I've had you at my mercy. Last time I gave you my word that I wouldn't hurt you. I'm not sure what else I can offer. My love certainly doesn't seem to matter to you." I eased my tail off from her throat just enough to allow her to talk. "I'm sworn to kill all demonkind. You're a demon. It's as simple as that." "Goddammit, Charlotte, you need to get over this demon bullshit. We're no different than any other creature. Dolphins, elephants, humans, whatever. We all belong here." "You kill to survive." "And humans don't?" I said. "Humans tear each other limb from limb. Humans have wars on unimaginable scales. Humans commit fucking genocide! All for no reason. At least when we kill we do it because we have to. It's no different than what humans do with animals, except that you all could be vegetarians. And anyway, I've already explained to you that I don't hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it! Now, what are we gonna do here, sweet Charlotte?" "You're either going to kill me, or you're going to let go of me, at which point I'm going to make every effort to kill you." "Really? Still? You're just not going to even think about anything I just said?" She shook her head as much as she could, which wasn't much. "No," I said. "You had me dead to rights a minute ago, and you didn't pull the trigger. You let me crawl toward you until I was close enough to get you like this." "You're a sex demon. I wasn't thinking straight." "I'm not either," I said, tightening my tail again to where she couldn't talk very easily. Keeping my hands around her wrists, I shifted my weight a little and pushed my knee up into her crotch. With my tail, I could feel her breath catch in her throat as I ground into her. I squeezed her neck a little tighter, still letting her breathe but definitely adding a more serious element to her predicament. The very bottom of my femur was now pushing hard up against her clit through her pants. As her face grew more and more red from the pressure around her throat, her eyes started to roll back into her head. I knew I wasn't choking her hard enough for that. I kept the pressure up on her crotch and quickly withdrew my tail, wrapping it instead around one of her wrists, giving me a free hand. With this I reached down and felt my own sodden cunt, slipping two fingers inside for just a second. Then I ran the same fingers gently along her lips, slowly pushing them into her mouth just a little. Her teeth parted and her tongue slipped out, flicking gently at the juices on my digits. "Tell me to stop," I said, holding her gaze. "Stop," she said, her voice muffled by my fingers, her tongue unwilling to stop its gentle motions around my fingertips. It was a very unconvincing "stop." I withdrew my hand and lowered my face until it was just inches from hers. As our lips met, I could feel her arms, which had all the while been tensed in resistance to my grasp of them, go limp. Her breath was faint with sugar and tea, her tongue as wet and warm as any I'd ever felt. I pushed my mouth over hers completely, but kept my tongue back, letting hers come to me. She wasn't shy about it. One night back in 1098, before I'd amended my ways, I'd fucked my way around a Crusader camp, taking twenty-one souls before I was sated. To this day, I don't really know what got into me that night, only that I was filled with a lust that knew no bounds. It wasn't even the souls I wanted, just the cocks. I only mention it because until this moment with Charlotte, that was always what I remembered as the highest point of arousal I'd ever reached. But despite the desperate fire in my loins, this was not the way I wanted it. Wanted her. No. I wanted her to need it. I wanted her to feel the same thing I felt. I wanted to haunt her dreams and her waking hours alike. As much as I wanted her tongue buried in my cunt, I wasn't going to take her by force. I broke my lips away from hers and released my hold on her wrists as she looked up at me with a mixture of fear, confusion, and desire on her face. "That's just a taste of what I can give you," I said. "When you're ready." I picked up the crossbow and stood up. "Now get out of here before I change my mind and take you." Her eyes were smoldering, whether from hatred or lust I couldn't tell. I don't think she could tell, either. As she reached the door, I said, "I'll be here when you want me." What the fuck are you doing? I said to myself as the door closed behind her. You finally found her and now you're letting her walk away? Well, not exactly, came my reply. To myself. I threw some clothes on, called down to the desk to have them pack the rest of my things and move them to another room, and went out over the balcony. First of all, I wasn't quite stupid enough to stay there, in case Charlotte decided to come back with some of her demon-hunting cronies. Second, I had no intention of waiting for her or for another chance encounter. She'd obviously followed me from the train at Shepherd's Bush, without my having seen her. Now it was my turn to do some following. It was high time I discovered where she kept a bed. Tristessa: A Succubus in Love Ch. 04 Charlotte was good. I had to give her that. First, sneaking up on my in my hotel room (although admittedly I was really focused on masturbating at the time), and second, losing me as I tried to follow her. Well, technically, she didn't lose me. I'd tracked her to a more or less ordinary four-story building on Baker Street, but then she just disappeared. I spent the better part of a fortnight staking the place out to no avail. Probably the Circle of the Purity Scroll, an ancient demon-hunting organization with which I suspected Charlotte was affiliated, had some sort of hideout or clubhouse or whatever those people have, with a secret entrance somewhere in the building. But they must have had another way in and out as well, because I never saw her use that building again. I'd had my things moved to the room directly above my old one at the May Fair, thinking she might come back with backup at some point, but after two weeks, there was no sign that she'd done so. I was starting to think myself quite the fool for having let her go at all. But what was I going to do? I couldn't make her love me by kidnapping and/or raping her. After a night on the town (and a successful feed in the stall of a nightclub restroom with a guy who'd slipped a couple roofies into his date's drink), I made it back to my room, a little worse for wear. Yes, demons can get drunk. In fact, alcohol can have pretty drastic effects on some of us. Succubae handle it pretty much the same as humans do, though after twelve hundred years, I had a pretty solid tolerance. Nevertheless, I realized as I fumbled with the key card, I had officially had One Too Many. I didn't even bother turning on the lights or getting undressed; I just kicked my shoes off, threw my leather jacket on the floor, and flounced onto the bed. I slept great until I woke up at about four-thirty with a bladder that was about to burst. Just as I crawled back into bed, feeling much relieved, the bedside lamp was switched on. There, sitting in the high-backed armchair, not two feet from where I'd been sleeping, was Charlotte. I told you she was good. She looked at me with no expression, and said nothing. "No crossbow this time," I said. "Are we making progress?" "I need your help," she said. "I thought you'd never ask. Sexual tension getting to you?" "You have a smart mouth for a demon." "It's true." "What do you know about Karsten Nieves?" she asked. Karsten Nieves was an incubus Prince. Incubae and succubae have both Noble and Common lines. I was from the latter. As the name implies, we are much more, well, common. Numerous. Nobles are quite rare, in fact, and while their powers are much greater, they are somewhat hindered by their inability to assume human form. They're the ones who provide most of the stories about our kind. While they can't enter anyone's dreams, they do feed on sleeping humans, and are able to put their victims into deep, trance-like states. They can also, if they choose, turn humans into our kind, a gift they share with certain types of vampires. Anyhow, I told her what I knew, which wasn't much. "He's a incubus Prince, nearly ten thousand years old, extremely powerful and dangerous. Whereabouts unknown. Last I heard he'd developed a taste for the Asian ladies and kept some sort of mountaintop palace outside Kowloon. But that was in the 1920s." "All correct. And now he's here. He's got a big underground thing he's carved out of the sewers beneath Baker Street." So that's where she'd gone, and why I hadn't seen her around there again. "Seems like you should be handling the succubae and leaving the incubae to the menfolk. Just, you know, out of precaution." She smiled, just a little. "They're my specialty." "I must say, you handled Ellison very competently. What exactly do you need my help for? Not that I'm not agreeing. I am agreeing. I'll help. I'd love to help. Just so you know, Nobles and Commons don't really have much in...well, common. We don't associate much. They don't like us." "Karsten keeps a sort of Praetorian Guard of Common incubae and succubae. Minions, more or less," she said. "Not that he needs them to feed or anything, he just enjoys the trappings of power. Anyway, after last night, he's down one. He could use a replacement. That's where you come in." "What's the plan? I walk in with a resumé and ask if they're hiring?" "Something like that." "And then what?" "Then, once you've earned his trust, you get me close to him." "A, that's a very vague plan. B, you get within ten feet of him and he'll put the whammy on you. I'll help you, but I'm not gonna help you get killed." "I can handle myself," she said. "Then why do you need my help?" "Maybe I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself to me." "Well, I appreciate that. How about I kill him for you? That way you stay out of danger. I'd feel a lot better about that." "Do you know how to kill a Prince?" "Is there a trick?" "Apart from high explosives, no. Unless you count this." She took a little vial out of her pocket. "What's that?" I asked. "An antidote we've developed. Works against their ability to put someone in a trance." "I don't need to worry about that, it doesn't work on us." "No offense, but you're no match for a Prince. They're impossibly fast. He'd have your head off before you even realized that whatever you were trying didn't work." "No offense yourself, but I'm faster than you," I said. "That's not gonna matter. Here's the thing about the antidote. It's an antidote. It only works after one's been entranced. So, once you've wormed your way into his good graces, you're going to bring me in as a prisoner. A Purity Scroll demon hunter. He'll like that a lot. And he'll do his thing, and get me into bed, and that's when you'll administer the antidote. He'll be preoccupied, I'll be awake suddenly, and his guard will be down." "And then you'll what? Punch him in the back of the head? Are you going to have a weapon hidden somewhere on your what by then will almost certainly be naked body? Why don't I just kill him while he's preoccupied instead of waking you up and waiting for you to kill him?" "Because you won't be in the room." "Then how am I going to give you the antidote?" "Once you bring him to me, he'll make a nice speech for his minions about how wonderful it is to have caught one of us, and he'll give you a big round of applause, and as he takes me from you, that's when he'll zap me. Right in that instant, you'll inject me. It'll just be in a little syrette, you'll just have to slap my arm or neck or something. It takes about two minutes to kick in. As to the weapon, you're going to hide this," she said, as she pulled out a nasty-looking stiletto, "between his mattress and headboard." "This is a very bad plan," I said. "There are a lot of assumptions in there." "I know how he operates. It will work. If it doesn't, well, too bad for me. You shouldn't be in any danger." "It's not me I'm worried about, Charlotte! In case you don't remember, I'm in love with you!" "I know. That's why you're going to help." ********************************************************************* "Tristessa of Prague," Karsten Nieves boomed as I stood before him. He stood nearly eight feet tall, muscles rippling through his taut maroon skin. "A scourge to be reckoned with in years gone by. I seem to recall tales of terror on the road to Jerusalem that had your name attached to them...when was that? 1100?" "Thereabouts." "You say you knew our dear departed Ellison." "We were in Chicago together some decades ago. I bumped into him here the night he died." "The night he was killed." "Quite right. I know who did it. A Purity Scroll demon hunter by the name of Charlotte. She's sneaky, but I've been figuring out her patterns around town. Not exactly able to follow her but I'll catch up with her soon enough. I thought that might interest you." "It will only interest me in so far as it leads to her appearance in my bed." "Capturing a demon hunter of her ilk is no small matter. I'd like to think it will reflect well on me." "If you can procure me this Charlotte, you will have a place of honor among my Guard, if that's what you desire. I wonder, though, why I've heard so little of your exploits for the last 900 years." His voice went up a little at the end, the hint of a question buried in it. "Well, after Jerusalem, I decided to keep a low profile. Opt for subtlety. Notoriety is rarely the friend of the demonic, save for those of great power such as yourself." "And yet in your younger days, notoriety found you." "Hence my disappearance from the annals, as it were. Chalk it up to foolhardy youth." "Bring me someone else first. Someone young. A real innocent, flush with the buds of womanhood but unsullied. Someone," he said with what felt to me very much like a gleam in his eye, "who doesn't deserve to die." ********************************************************************* "He's onto me," I told Charlotte. "He wants me to bring him some pubescent teenager. 'Someone who doesn't deserve to die,' were his exact words. That after asking me all sorts of questions about why he hasn't heard anything about me for centuries." "He asks that of everyone he lets join his little group. It's nothing to do with you." "Well, I thought you were in the business of protecting the innocent. Now we have to sacrifice a little girl just so you can go after Karsten?" "Find one of your terminally ill people to which you're so generous," she said, with no small amount of venom dripping from the last word. "Won't she die just as pleasurably as your other victims?" "I've never preyed on a child, Charlotte." "So don't bring him a child. 18, 19, 20. So long as she's a virgin. And beautiful." "And terminally ill. I'm sure Greater London is brimming with girls that fit that particular bill." "Do your best. Leave another note when it's done." Our means of contact were that I would post a hand-written note on a coffee-shop bulletin board telling "Heather" to meet me at Charing Cross, with a time, though the meeting place itself was actually the coffee shop, and not the station. With a bit of research online, I tracked down Marjorie. A true English Rose she was, pale skin just slightly befreckled, strawberry blonde hair, the faintest ruddiness to her complexion. She was 19, and had been diagnosed two years earlier with non-typical ALS -- non-typical because of her young age. Otherwise, completely typical. Her body would gradually, over the next couple of years, become paralyzed. She would be unable to move or even to speak, yet her brain would remain completely intact, free to experience every agonizing minute of her horrific descent into death. Daily, she would walk alone for an hour or two along a wooded creek behind her family's house. I showed myself to her there, in my true form, something telling me it would cause her no greater fear than what she lived with each moment. "They didn't say anything about hallucinations," she said, looking much more interested than scared. "Well, I'm not one," I said. "Are you a devil come to take me to hell?" she asked, no affect in her voice. "Appearances aside, no." "That's too bad. I think hell would be better than what's in store for me here." "I know what that is, and I'm sorry. My name's Tristessa." "I'm Marjorie. How do you know?" "There were some news articles back when you were diagnosed. That's all." "Oh. I thought maybe you had special powers. You look as if you would." "I do, after a fashion. Look, Marjorie. I know what's in store for you, and...well, I can offer you something else. It's not..." I struggled to find the words. "It's still death. But a better death. A much better one, I hope." "You going to murder me?" "No. Do you know what a succubus is?" "Some sort of demon, innit?" "Yes. That's what I am. We feed on people's souls. That's what keeps us alive. And we do it by having sex. I only take two kinds of people, either really bad ones, or ones like you that are terminally ill. You see, it's a very pleasurable death. Extremely pleasurable, beyond anything humans could normally experience. But I can't do it to you, because you're a woman, and I only have that power over men. But there are males of my species, called incubae, who can give you that pleasurable death. There's one here in London. I can take you to him. But it's not a decision you should make lightly. Think about it. Meet me here in three days." "No, I'll do it. I don't need to think about it. I want to make love before I die. I have been thinking about that. And I don't think I have long. I've already had some brief episodes. Loss of control. It's terrifying. I don't fear death. I fear being trapped in a shell. That's what I'm headed for. Take me to your friend." She looked at me with great earnestness. "I should warn you," I said. "The incubus in question is not quite like me. He's much more powerful." "It'll be that much more pleasurable then, eh?" "I...don't know." "It doesn't matter. At least I'll feel something on my way out. S'a lot better than the alternative. How do I know you're not just some tart in a devil outfit, though?" I changed into my usual human form before her eyes. "That's a good trick," she said. We talked more on the walk to the Tube and on the train into Westminster. She was a sweet girl. It was easy to see that fear haunted her every moment. No wonder she'd jumped at this chance to escape her fate. Karsten was pleased. He ran his massive hand through her hair and caressed her cheek. Already she was under his spell, her eyes now empty, staring at nothing. A cruel reminder of where her disease would take her, to me. At least she would still feel. I thought that was a good thing. Suddenly I felt strong hands grab me, two large incubae on either side of me, forcing my arms behind my back, and then pushing me down to my knees. As Karsten cast off his black robes, I saw for the first time his erect member. Even on his massive frame it stood out, as long and as thick as my leg between knee and ankle. "Take off your clothes, my dear," he said softly to Marjorie, as the rest of his minions gathered around for the show. She did so, simply, deliberately, until she stood naked, a small tuft of brown hair covering her mound. Then to me, he grinned and said, "I hope you enjoy this, Tristessa of Prague. I don't believe you've seen what an Incubus Prince is capable of." With that, he picked Marjorie up and then lowered her onto his massive erection. There was no way, I thought, that it would fit, but, as I've since learned, the same hormones that cause the trance also make human skin much more pliable. That, and with his great strength, he simple pushed her down onto him. Her screams ripped into my brain. In my centuries on Earth I've heard every kind of scream. There was not even the least bit of pleasure in hers. Over and over again he lifted her and then pushed her back down. Blood spilled from between her legs and out her mouth. Through it all, Karsten's eyes were locked on mine, and as much I wanted to, I could not look away. Soon his face contorted into what I hoped was anguish, but I knew that it wasn't. He exploded into her, and it was only then, finally, that she descended into the orgasmic frenzy that would convert her soul into his food. Her ruined body twitched, impaled on the giant phallus, her moans building and then trailing off until he pulled the lifeless corpse off of himself and tossed it aside like a wet rag. He ran his hand over his still-hard cock, scraping off the mixture of blood and juices and then licking it off his hand with a long, sinewy tongue. "Thank you, Tristessa, for bringing me that little morsel. It's quite whetted my appetite. And look who we have for the main course." I followed his gaze. Two more of his largest incubae minions held Charlotte tightly between them, a look of mute terror in her eyes. "Lock her up," Karsten said, and the last thing I saw as my captors dragged me out of the room was Charlotte, released now from her hold, beginning to matter-of-factly undress. I think I screamed. Tristessa: A Succubus in Love Ch. 05 They'd thrown me into a cell, a level or two down from the main room. It was dank and dark and generally uncomfortable, with not even a bed or a cot or chair. I thought about Marjorie and Charlotte, and I cried a lot. There were some other cells, as best I could make out in the dim light, but they didn't seem to have anyone in them. Time passed. I couldn't tell how much, but judging from my growing hunger, it was days. Maybe a week. No one came. Nothing happened. I grew weaker. Sleep came fitfully when it came at all, and my dreams became more frightening and less distinguishable from reality. A man was thrown into my cell. Grabbing the bars and rattling the door to the cell, screaming for help, wondering what the hell was going on. At my touch he wheeled around in panic. Into his ear I whispered words to calm him, and sucked his earlobe into my mouth, my hands already undoing his pants, wrapping around his rapidly-stiffening cock, squeezing it, my tongue now finding his and wrestling with it with a wet slurping sound, my starved body seeking nourishment from his saliva and finding, of course, none. I dragged him slowly to the ground and mounted him, unsure if the gasps I heard were his or mine. Grinding my hips, I rode him gently, enjoying every inch of his manhood pressed up inside me, feeling the contours of my vagina stretch around him, growing warmer, wetter, moving faster until the familiar waves of pleasure began to pulse outward from my clitoris. And then the hot spurts of his soul blasting into me, overflowing, slicking the ground, and I knew now it was no dream. "Feel better?" A familiar voice. Whose? A woman. I could just make out a figure in the darkness, but there were no details to it. "Almost three weeks without eating. I can't imagine." From the recesses of my memory the voice took shape. My sister, whom I hadn't seen since 1526. "Alana," I said, my own voice sounding foreign to me. "No, dear. That man you just took. He had a wife, three children. Adorable little creatures. A very happy family, he confided in me. And he ran a food bank. A good man all around. He certainly didn't deserve the fate he just suffered at your hands. At least he died happy, right?" She moved closer to the bars, as did I. Her arm came through, and suddenly grabbed the back of my head, a fistful of hair, and pulled my face toward her. Her lips met mine, her tongue forcing itself into my mouth. She tasted faintly of sugar and tea. Roughly, she broke the kiss and pushed me back in one swift movement. A match was struck, and a torch sconce lit. My eyes reeled from the brightness of it. The voice continued. I could not look in its direction. "You didn't tell me how wonderful this is, Tristessa. My god! The orgasms alone are out of this world, and that look in their eyes. The most abject fear, a little oh-god-what-is-happening-to-me, and all the while they don't even really care because they feel so damn good. It's intoxicating! I haven't been able to get enough of it." As she spoke, my eyes still shielded from the light, the identity of her voice slowly dawned on me, and yet I could not -- would not -- believe it. Slowly, I turned my head toward her, knowing what I would see, unsure if I was horrified or elated. She was mostly a silhouette, framed by flowing golden tresses through which the light of the torch filtered, appearing almost as a halo. Are you angel or devil? "We have such powers! Embrace them! Humans are weak. They exist for us to use!" You've probably figured out by now that it was Charlotte. Karsten hadn't killed her. He had turned her. She was like me now, a succubus. "I'm very glad you're alive," I said, my voice breaking with emotion. "I told you your stupid plan wouldn't work." "It worked out just fine from where I'm standing." "I wouldn't have wished this for you," I said. "Why not? It's fucking amazing! Why are you ashamed of who you are?" "I'm not. I enjoy feeding as much as you. I'm just...pickier." "You're just a pussy is what you are. Hell, what we give our prey is the greatest gift imaginable." "A moment of pleasure, no matter how intense, is no substitute for a life well lived." "Tell that to him," she said, gesturing to the corpse on the floor behind me. "I didn't choose him." "No, I did. Did you enjoy it any less?" "I was starving to death," I said. "Yes, well...don't expect another anytime soon. I've had a hell of a time convincing Karsten to let you live. I've assured him that I -- that only I -- can break you of your little moral inhibitions. Because you love me so much." She said the last part with a vicious little sting of mockery. "You're right, Charlotte, that what we have is a gift. But cruelty needn't be a part of it. Thank you for keeping me alive. But I'd rather be dead than be someone I'm not." "I'm not trying to make you someone you're not. I'm trying to get you to see who you really are." With that she turned and slipped silently into the shadows, followed by the clang of a metal door. The torch burned down a few hours later, returning me to darkness, and then to another cycle of uncounted days, fitful sleep, fevered dreams, weakness and hunger and hopelessness. Every few weeks, I supposed, another man would be pushed into my cell, the previous and by then well-rotted corpse dragged away. I tried to stay awake, to be ready for when the door opened, but each time I was caught unawares. Even if I hadn't been, I was too weak to do anything anyway, anything but use what little strength I had to drain the life from my short-lived cellmates. And after each feeding, as my mind returned to clarity, Charlotte would describe in detail how good each of these man had been, how they had loved and cared for their families, how they had spent their lives helping others less fortunate than they had been. And though I knew it was coming with every new victim, Charlotte let me get so hungry that I didn't care. I would take them, she knew, and continue to live. I don't know how many it was, in the end. I lost count at 23, but it was surely many more than that. As I climbed off the last of them, the warm mixture of soul-semen and my own juices running down my inner thighs, I prepared myself for Charlotte's cruelty once more. But she had something else to tell me this time. "I'm leaving London," she said matter-of-factly. "Time's up. Karsten thinks he's won. But I know you'll do the right thing. If you want to stay alive." She swung the cell door open. I stepped out into the brighter light of the corridor. I'd long since shed the tattered rags of what remained of my clothing. Always pale-complexioned, I was shocked by the whiteness of my skin, and even more so by how gaunt and bony I was. I knew I had lost weight but I wasn't prepared for what I saw. My once-full breasts were droopy and withered, my sleek, muscular limbs reduced to little more than skin-encased bones, my hips and ribcage protruding as if about to burst through their thin sheath. As though she were reading my thoughts, Charlotte said, "You'll be back to your old self in a few months. You'll just need to be a bit more...aggressive about feeding." Her smile was still the same as it had been when I'd fallen in love with her. She pushed my limp frame against the cold stone of the wall and slid two fingers into my still-wet cunt, curling them roughly forward once they were inside, pulling me toward her. "I hope you'll come find me once you're feeling up to it. I think we could have some real fun together." I couldn't tell if she was being sincere or mocking me. I wanted to have some sort of emotion about it. Disgust. Anger. Hatred. Even love. But I felt nothing. Maybe she had broken me. She rapped quietly on the outer door of the dungeon and it opened to reveal two of Karsten's strapping incubae minions. They trundled me upstairs into Karsten's great hall, a goodly sized crowd gathered around. Standing all in a row was a group of young men -- little more than boys, really. Karsten's voice boomed across the room. "Tristessa of Prague! So good to see you again after all these years." Years? He smiled cruelly. "Yes, four years you've been my guest, and I must say, the time has not been kind to you. Our Charlotte -- quite the wonder, I might add, and thanks again for bringing her to us -- is convinced she's cured you of your little quirk of morality. I, on the other hand, look forward to proving her wrong, at which point I shall be happy to finally free you from the misery which your life has become. In, of course, the most painful way I can imagine. And, when it comes to pain, my imagination is nearly unlimited. Charlotte! Please begin." Charlotte, now naked herself, was walking slowly up and down the line of men. "My dear," she said, "we have here eighteen of England's best and brightest. Dedicated scholars all and active in the church, too. They were on their way, in fact, to Africa for a two-month stint of charitable undertakings. Building houses or some such thing, wasn't it, darling?" she asked, turning to one of them, gently caressing his cheek. He nodded, his face flushed at her touch. "Such good boys," she continued. "No black marks on their disciplinary records. Model citizens. Really just wonderful young men. Their parents must be so proud. Aren't you proud, parents?" she asked, her voice rising in volume. Pushed forward from the crowd of Karsten's minions were suddenly eighteen couples, fear etched on their faces. "I said, aren't you proud of your sons?" Charlotte continued, louder still. The parents murmured assent, their keepers standing menacingly behind them. It was quite a production they'd put together for me. "Wonderful. You should be," Charlotte went on. "You'll be happy to know that they're going to die very, very pleasurably. As will you. Well, the fathers, at least." Now she turned to me. "Tristessa, you are going to fuck each of these young men, ending their lives, of course, in the process. And then you will provide the same service to each of their fathers. But first, just to prove to us all how cruel you really are, how free of your little false morality you've become, you're going to disembowel their mothers. And once you're done with all that, you're free to go." She snapped her fingers and one of the incubae stepped forward, proffering to me a velvet cushion on which rested a short, scimitar-like sword. My eyes moved back and forth between Charlotte and Karsten on his throne some thirty feet away. I could feel their eyes meeting, as I could feel the palpable fear of the young men and their parents and the bloodlust that emanated from the demons around me, all of it filling the room with an almost delicious sort of tension that I remembered from when I was much, much younger. My hand moved slowly, of its own accord, my fingers wrapping around the cool wooden handle of the sword. I picked it up, feeling its heft, its perfect balance. I nodded to Charlotte, and with an imperceptible signal, the first of the mothers was pushed forward and held trembling in front of me. None of these people were getting out of here alive, regardless of what I chose to do. I knew that much. It wasn't my fault, and I couldn't save them. The world is full of bad luck. I plunged the blade into the woman's side, the screams of the other soon-to-be victims falling on my ears as if from very far away. The sharp blade slid effortlessly across her torso, blood and gore falling from the massive incision. The woman remained silent, the look of terror on her face communicating more than any verbalizations could have. The incubus released his grip on her and she fell to her knees, her arms flailing in a hopeless effort to keep her insides inside. I saw Charlotte's tongue running across her teeth, her mouth held open slightly. All eyes were focused on the unfortunate soul who was rapidly crumpling at my feet, almost as if she were melting, pooling up into the puddle of her own blood. I stepped once quickly with my right leg, swinging my arm in a backhand motion as I did so, the sword whirling flat along a perfect plane across the room. Karsten's throat did nothing to stop it. His spine did, after it was about halfway through that. His head toppled backward as if on a hinge, blood spurting up from his neck. There was only silence now. His body slumped back into the carved stone upon which he sat. I looked over at Charlotte. "I told you I'd kill him for you," I said. I knew two things at that moment. One, with her sire dead, the demon inside her was dead as well. She was human again. Two, his minions were bound by law and tradition to respect any who could slay their master. Sure, they could have killed Charlotte. I was hoping, given her apparent role of some importance within their organization, or whatever it was, that they wouldn't. The other humans, I knew, wouldn't receive the same consideration. I wasn't even thinking about them. She had tried to break me, but now it was Charlotte that was broken. In an instant she had been confronted with full knowledge of both the cruelties she had embraced as well as the gifts she had misused and now lost. I put my arm around her shoulder and guided her out of the still-silent room. I realized I knew one other thing -- I still loved her. Months passed; I left her side as rarely as she spoke. We'd walk in the park, or sit by the fire on colder days, each reading silently or me reading aloud to her, a pot of tea between us, my body and her mind slowly returning to normalcy. I secretly thrilled at the slightest signs from her; glances, casual touches. One day, strolling through Hyde Park, she reached over and slipped her hand over mine, intertwining our fingers. As I gently squeezed her hand, I saw the faintest flicker of a smile dance across her lips. Some weeks later we kissed, not, as I had to remind myself, for the first time, but it felt like the first time that mattered. We'd shared a room all those months, although not a bed. I was in no hurry. I knew she needed time, and the wait made it all the sweeter when, one chilly night just before Christmas I woke to feel her warm flesh pressing up against me, her chin nuzzled into my shoulder, her arm draped over me. I took her hand and pulled her arm up between my breasts. That was all. We just stayed like that. As her breath deepened into the rhythms of sleep, I felt a wave of contentment unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Snow fell in the night. We awoke to a blanket of white covering the rooftops, and then, finally, we made love. She's been dead for more than three hundred years now, but I can still pull from my memory the sound of her gentle cries as she climaxed at my touch for the first time. Hers was a life well-lived, and mine the richer for having been a part of it. Her grave is on a hillside, overlooking the little town in Provence where we'd lived for most of the 57 years we shared together. I put flowers on it each Christmas Eve morning. I don't know if I'll ever love anyone again. I got by fine without it for the first 1200 years I'd been alive. I suppose if it happens, it happens, and there's not much you can do about it. "I wish I wasn't dying," Johann said, looking out over the Baltic. "I think I'm in love with you." "No you're not," I said. "I could be, if I had more time. I want to know love like that. My marriage was, well, is, I guess, fine. I love my wife. But I don't love her like that. And she doesn't love me like that." "I was very lucky," I said. "Thank you for telling me about her." "Thanks for listening. I've never told anyone that story before." "Are you sure it doesn't hurt, Tristessa?" I thought for a second he was asking about me. "No, it doesn't hurt. It's ecstasy. You can't even imagine." I dropped to my knees and undid the sash on his robe. At my touch his member sprang to its fullness and I took him deep into my mouth. He was a good man. The world is full of bad luck.