The Succubus- by Anonym

Blank nothing. Then. Images cluttered my brain like static. A beautiful red smile. A black dress. A blue drink and blue lights glowing neon. A throbbing beat. A rusty door. Blank again.

When I woke again, my mouth tasted dry as a salty dream. Still couldn't see. Tried to rub my eyes. Couldn't. Panic opens eyes. Still dark. Struggle. Legs caught, arms caught. Turn to look at arms. Can't. A band around my forehead and temples. Scream.

"Tush, tush, my dear," came a caramel voice. "Must we make such noise?"

Too dark. Can't turn to see anyways. Try to smack spit.

"Who's... who's there?" I ask, a raspy voice.

"Come now! Don't you remember me?" pouted the caramel voice. A fingernail traced my chest. I am naked, I realize. The fingernail trailed circles.

"We only met last night. And it was such a... fulfilling night, too. Men these days." The fingernail slid towards my nipple, joined a thumb, then bit together and twisted. Hard.

I squealed. Then blushed, furious and embarrassed.

"Let me go! This is kidnapping! Torture!"

A caramel laugh, coated with scorn.

"Torture, my boy? Oh, you have no idea. I haven't even done anything worthwhile. Just... a little... twist."

As she spoke, she slowly twisted my nipple, then gave a final jerk. My body jolted against the bonds. My helpless yelp gave no relief.

"Please, whatever you want, I'll... Look, I've got a lot of money. I'm a... I'm... a..."

I searched my memory for what I was, but nothing except a blue drink returned.

"I'm a lawyer! I'll give you all I've got. Just name your price, it's yours."

I tried to sound confident, but my breathing refused to cooperate. Silence was her only reply. I listened, trying to hear where she was moving. Nothing. Her steps were as blank as my memory.

A flick shocked my right thigh, evincing a wince. Another. Another. Just as I was about to yell out, a pinch caught my voice, twisting words into another yelp.

"Money..." came the voice. "Every man seems to think I want..." twist, "their money..." twist, "it is really rather..." twist, "amusing."

At that, her whole hand slapped the inside of my thigh. I could feel the bonds against my wrists, my ankles, my head, my chest hold my jolt, but none of them bit. They felt merely like an impassable point, not like a strap at all.

"What," I said, panting, "What do you want? I'll give you anything, just, please... let me go. I have friends," blank, "a family," blank, "a... god, I haven't even fed the dog, just let me..."

A soft, gloved hand clasped my mouth.

"Shhhh, little boy," came the voice, slithering into my ear. "You'll know what I want soon. Very soon. But that's not important right now. What is important right now is, you don't even have anything holding you down right now. There's simply nothing..." she poked my wrists exactly where I felt a bond, "there." She poked again at my throat.

"This is insane... What are you trying to say? What are you doing to me?" I thought desperately for a solution, "Did you hypnotize me?"

Playful, impish laughter.

"Hypnotize you! My goodness, you think I would be so crude? Do you truly remember nothing of our night together? How I swayed towards you at the bar? How my body slid against yours on the dance floor? How my lips loved yours with such grace that you hardly dared to breathe lest you broke the magic? To say nothing of my tongue! Goodness, what a forgetful boy you are."

Before I could reply, a warm breath cradled my face. A red smell sank into my stomach. Lips met mine, and instinctively, automatically, my body relaxed like a kitten picked up by the scruff. Her lips lifted from mine, but not before leaving a gentle bite, and I strained forwards towards the emptiness she left. Whatever bonds held me, held still. Fear trilled my throat for the first time.

"What have you done to me?" I whispered, barely able to coax the words into sound. Her soft lips kissed my chin, my cheek, my ear. Relaxation soaked into my muscles, and at each kiss, the bonds grew more and more faint.

"Why, my good little boy, I haven't done a thing. You just don't want to leave. Isn't that right?"

Another kiss, and I felt the bonds not at all. My mind continued to struggle. But an answer, an answer that felt as foreign as it felt familiar, slowly pressed through the resistance. Unable to hold my lips shut, I answered.

"No... I don't..."

I felt her smile, barely a half inch from my face.

"Good boy," she whispered, and a final kiss held my body firm.

When she lifted her lips from mine, my mind and body rebelled against each other. My limbs relaxed and pliable, my thoughts reeling and chaotic. Her hand stroked my cheek, and I leaned into it, but it was not my will which willed it. When she slid her fingers into my mouth, my mouth sucked but my mind retched. When her fingernails scraped down my chest, my back arched in pleasure even as pain pierced me. And where her hand dragged slow past my stomach and curled into my pubes, carefully tracing around my genitals, my cock thrilled.

As my desire coiled into my belly and thighs, I felt a split in my brain. Some primal part danced awake, pulsing towards her hand, teasing like a cat on a fence teasing a dog. The other recoiled, knowing the inherent wrongness that filled the air. They pitted against each other, precarious, neither quite winning out in the balance of power, an ebb and flow from one to the other which she, my tormenter, controlled. As her hand moved from my cock, my desire pushed forward and she responded by slinking closer. As she threatened to close her fingers around me, my revulsion drew me away.

And when I did, she would smile.

Caught in the cycle, my cock was led helpless. Frustration built up in my balls, and thick heaviness sinking down, and hot lightness pressing up. Pre-cum began to drip on its own accord, the voice of a silent victim caught in the crossfire.She saw it before I felt it, and her eyes glittered in the dark, literally lighting her face, and I saw her for the first time. Her skin was neither light nor dark, or rather, was something like both. Her features were long, a beautiful sadism drawing her red lips to her cheeks. Her teeth were almost human, but came to points, as if her mouth were full of canines. She had no hair that I could see, but her bald head seemed natural.

So her eyes gleamed, watching my cock drip like the first blood drawn from a little prey. She looked me straight in the eye, an eager grin splitter her face. Her fingers jerked towards my cock, stopping at a point of utter equilibrium, where neither my natural revulsion nor my natural desire could give way. There, the pressure build to unbearable, and the pre-cum started to flow from my hot cock head.

"My, my, little boy. You sure look... tasty..." she gasped, a sharp tongue flicking her lips.

I shuddered, both from want and from fear of what her meaning implied. Wary, I eyed her tongue clicking the points of her teeth, but I could still neither draw towards her nor pull away. I stayed trapped by indecision.

But then she made the decision for me. She clawed her hand, her metallic nails glinting in the dark as they pointed towards my cock, and she closed. The tips bit points of a circle around my shaft, and my cry jolted pain and pleasure as she turned the tide for my desire to win the day. With her fingernails catching my cock, I thrust forward and back involuntarily, scraping lines along my shaft. Pain seared into my groin, but I couldn't stop. She held her fingers sadistically still as I, in my mad rush for fulfillment, thrust through them again and again. For all the pain, though, the pleasure was equal. But for all the pleasure, I found only frustration.

Wetness spread over my cock. I wasn't sure if it was blood or pre-cum. It didn't matter to my addled mind. My thrusting continued furious, ever building but never reaching a point of release. She could sense that frustration, and her smile continued to smile, her eyes greedily watching the fluids soak out of my tip. Even in my red fervor, I could begin to see the outline of her breasts come into view, a subtle not-darkness which held firm tear drops beneath her chest. Her own breathing, I could see, was becoming erratic as well, her excitement building in tandem with my roiling frustration.

Of a sudden, her hand changed shape. She released my cock from her cruel fingernails, and clasped the shaft with the skin of her palm. Meeting smooth pleasure at last, the pressure in my cock head built past those few degrees remaining to the point of no return. My mind swirled orgiastic around that small kernel of sense that remained, huddled in horror by the unnatural scene. Bit by bit, my hips found strength from where, I could not guess. I reached that fever point which lay just before all self and semen drained from time. Desperation clung to me like the sweat slicking my brow and hair. Just a bit more... just a bit more... Just... almost...!

"STOP." came her command. And, beyond all laws of biology and sense, to my utter surprise, my thrusting stopped, caught against the invisible bonds which held me before. A moan escaped my lips. My release dialed back, degree by minute degree, until I was no longer in imminent danger of coming. When she saw that, the crease in my brow pleading with my quivering lips, she smiled. Always! Always she smiled! Pleasure, pain, frustration... all met with smiles! And her smile sunk into my belly with a thought. She was pleased.

Without warning, she darted her face into my crotch. She fixed her pointed teeth on my shaft just below the head, closed her lips, and sucked. Pleasure wracked my bound body. I shook, quivered, did all but the impossible thrusting my hips wished. She stayed sucking for a minute, another, more... Time left my mind. All that was in me was the sensation of pleasurable fire swirling around my cock, mixed with the fear of her bite. But she did not bite. She released my cock head, now slick only with the spit of my torturer, and my hips were free to move again.

At least, within the confines of her clawed fingers, opening and closing, opening and closing, never quite touching. With growing suspicion, then terror, I realized she was going to start over, from the very beginning. A low groan limped out of my lips, revealing my understanding and my despair.

"What's the matter, my little boy... Don't you want me?" This said as she leaned near me, her breasts within six inches of my face, swaying slowly with her rhythmic trap. My eyes fixed on them like the pendulum at a hypnotist's office.

As her hand opened, my mind tried to force out a futile, "No..." Even just a whimper. But just before the words could form in my throat, her fingers would close again, and I would say "Yes..." And she would smile. And I would know in my stomach she was pleased. Again and again she did this... "Yes... Yes... Yes...." And the she would close her fingernails around my shaft, and I would thrust again with abandon into searing pleasure, and then when I had built to tongue shattering desperation, she would clasp me in her soft palm until I built again, degree by degree, towards that point of no return, that point which she would not allow me to pass. And she would release me, lower her teeth to my cock head, gently clamp down, close her lips, and suck me into oblivion.

"Insanity..." I laughed, "I'm... I'm insane. I must be. Or else I'm going there...." And I laghed again. And she smiled. And I knew that she was pleased.

Again, yes, again, yes, again, pain, again, fire, again desperation, again denial, again oblivion, again, again, again, again.

I lost count of the cycles. My voice was a gibbering mess. I was beyond even pleading. I couldn't talk, I couldn't groan. Syllables left my lips at random. My eyes could not see for the darkness, but if they could, they would see her cruel condescension, her mocking pity,

"Poor boy... poor boy... Lets do something with that tongue of yours..."

She then leaned her breast towards my lips, and I sucked, nibbled, bit my helplessness. She would stroke my head, as if she were my mother comforting me. But at the end of every cycle, she would draw away and the emptiness was greater than if she hadn't cradled me. And I would be lost again to her teeth, to her insatiable maw.

But always in my stomach, the growing pleasure of knowing she, my tormenter, my comforter, was pleased.

I do not know when she stopped. I had never once orgasmed. I was not of a mind which could care. I mumbled madness. My cock drooped dry. My balls ached from effort. My body convulsed and twitched electric. But, though my mind had left, my desire, Oh! My desire... it remained.