Succubus Tales

I am a succubus. My sisters and I were born from the first perfect passion in the first kiss of man and woman.

I live mostly in my human form; a woman with the usual stereotype D-cup breasts, long black hair and a small waist. What can I say? That's what the men want, and after all it's all about the men.

Men are where I get my power. Every man I sleep with gives me more power, and the more powerful the man the more power I take from my encounter. It's not that I steal their power, more that I clone it. Every man I have ever slept with has left a memory inside of me, a little piece of him with me all the time. It's sort of a points system; so that is why I go after the Witches, the vampires, the Werepeople, basically any supernatural person or being is a major plus for me.

Sure, I go for the mortal men too, but that's mostly for the look on their faces. There's nothing quite like appearing in front of the average man in his greatest fantasy situation, looking better than something out of their wildest dreams. See, my face changes.

I appear to everyone as his or her vision of facial perfection. Guess that's a good thing seeing as some men don't like the full lips and emerald eyes. The thing is that nobody else can see what somebody else sees, but I know. I see it all in my mind because that's my job, two people can be looking at me and if you asked them to describe me they would probably be totally different because it's their perceptions that shape what they see.

I mentioned before that I stay in my human form, that's because my natural daemon form would scare the shit out of most people, and that's definitely not the idea. The wings would be scary enough for most mortals, all leathery and mostly bruise purple with those oh-so-stereotypical bony fingers.

That reminds me of how my hands get too. Claws would be probably more appropriate than hands, but not in an animal way, they're definitely like nothing born of the Earth. I get to retain the freedom of movement of those eternally useful opposable thumbs of a human, but my nails grow thick and even longer than I have them in human form and I get just a hint of scaliness for flavour.

The majority of my scales are around my thighs and up to my waist. A great step in my, well I would say evolution; but I just happened into being as I am now, that preserves my modesty. Well it would, if being naked in front of anybody actually bothered me. I guess that's a kind of prerequisite when you do what I do.

Work your way down my legs and you'd really want to run. It's the total inherent inhumanity of the typical goat-like daemon structure of the majority of my leg ending with feet somewhere between eagle's talons and a tiger's claws that are the key to scaring the pants off people. I mean, add those on top of everything else attached to a human torso and you have one scary beast. And oh, did I mention my horns? Barely visible through my hair, once you come across them, they're the cutest damn little things you ever saw.

So, I guess you're here to hear some of my tales, that's what most people are here for lately. There's just too much free and easy sex for people to approach me for anything these days. Though I don't mind going after men, it lets me have the pick of the crop, and the chase usually gives me a hunger enough to last a couple of hours when I finally get a hold of him.

Hmm, so what's a good story to start you off with? You think you can handle some of the best stuff, because I wouldn't want anything to happen to you that might embarrass you, would I? Ha ha, sure? Okay then, are we all sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

It was early on in the nineteenth century; I had been on a tour, so to say, of Europe for a good twenty years or so at the time, sampling all I could get from such a variety of cultures. The flavours were magnificent, I can tell you, but there was one particular tasty treat that I remember in particular.

Settled in the corner of a coffee house in gay Paris, I was content for a while to sit and watch the humans' lives tick slowly by from my seat against a wall, and drink what must have been my tenth cup of coffee by then. The waves of desire had covered me like a warm blanket, any strong desire is pleasurable for me to be around, be it for chocolate, to be heard or good old sexual tension.

As I raised the cup yet again to my scarlet-stained lips, something had shone through the haze of background desire like the sun burning away the clouds. My eyes flicked up to the frosted glass door just as a tall figure came smoothly through it. There was a glow surrounding him that I had only seen with a select few other men and at once, I knew that he was something special, something more powerful than the average man.

Right then and there, I knew that I just had to have him. Not that it would be hard, there are only a handful of men that could possibly ever resist my charms, and most of those didn't want to. He turned to look at me, his chiselled features were lit by this light that I saw all around him and he was wonderful to behold. He'd be good, I knew that too.

I called upon my powers there and then, pulling his aura towards me, and him with it, drinking his power into me and feeling it like a cool breeze through the warmth. He walked with a smooth grace, despite his square shoulders, making his long overcoat sway behind him. Knee high boots accentuated his height and tight britches showed off thigh muscles that told me he'd been in the military for some time. A quick look further up and I was proven right, he was wearing a regimental frock coat that looked so perfectly fitted it was almost untrue.

"Excuse moi, Madame. Ce siège est-il occupé?" he asked, his voice not quite deep enough to fall into, but with a richness stronger than my coffee.

I answered in English. "No, be my guest." And added a smile for good measure.

"Ah, you speak English, but you do not sound like an Englishwoman." His accent remained thick, though his grasp of the language seemed excellent. He slipped his overcoat off before sitting down with an air of power that only came through gaining rank and notoriety rightfully.

"I am not English, by birth, but I have spent quite a lot of time there over the years."

"Oh, forgive me Madame, I forget my manners. Pray, allow me to introduce myself, Captain Henri St. Juste, at your service." He nodded his head politely, a lock of his chestnut brown hair falling to the side of his face. I nodded similarly.

"Persephone Moreaux, a pleasure to meet you Captain," I have had many names over the years, this one I had taken up only recently, inspired by the erotic writings about gods and men that one could acquire in the underworld, if you only knew how.

"Non, Madame, the pleasure is entirely mine." I could sense something more in his words that would be masked to any mortal. It was that pure sexual desire that was so strong in this part of the city, among a society that saw anything sexual as improper for public viewing. Nevertheless, it was there, and I could feel it, like swimming in a hot bath of silky pleasures.

"So, what brings you here, Captain?" I said, smiling over the rim of my cup before sipping it gently, then setting it down with more care than was necessary. Making sure that my eyes went down with it, so that I could look up from under my long eyelashes at him for just a moment. A look guaranteed to melt just about any shell, and there it was, that tiny flicker in his façade that told me he was interested.

"I am currently at liberty from service to Napoleon, though I regret I am unable to reveal the nature of work, suffice to say I have been charged with a secret assignment."

"Oh, that is simply thrilling," I leant forward in my dark wooden chair and spoke secretively, "Is it terribly important?"

"Yes," he leant in over the table too, so close that I could smell the musky allure of his cologne, as soft as his voice against my senses. "It's more than my career, and even my life, is worth to tell you."

"All this conspiracy and war is absolutely thrilling," I said, ensuring to breathe deeply enough that so that my more than ample bosom heaved against the tight bodice top of my dress. I saw his eyes flick down to my chest and I thought that it was all going too well when I looked into his still straight face.

Such a gesture that would normally have reduced most men to nonsense for at least a few moments had seemed not to affect him, on the surface. Concentrating a little harder on him, I saw his aura changing from yellow into a deep red. He was feeling it, just not letting it show. Or so he thought. Though, I had to praise him on his most consummate acting.

Maybe the dear Captain would be more of a challenge than I thought. All the more fun for me.

"Indeed," Henri spoke slowly, clasping his hands in front of him as he reclined in his chair opposite to me. The waitress had come to our table and, placing a white china in front of Captain St. Juste, poured him a freshly brewed coffee and left with a sour look. Hmm, jealousy can be such a beautiful thing. "Seeing as how we cannot talk of my business, may I enquire as to why you are in Paris this fine day?"

The Captain's mask of polite indifference had returned, but the thought that I had ruffled him underneath that excited me. The chase was on, and he was prey.

"Oh, I'm just picking up a few things. Mostly I'm here to observe." At the Captain's questioning look, I continued, "Military tactics are something of a fascination to me. Bonaparte and Nelson are two of the best in history, so naturally I want to see both sides."

"It is something unheard of amongst women here in France, as in most of Europe, as I understand. Are you truly interested, or are you merely attempting to impress a Captain into thinking you are not a spy?" The smile that he ended his question with told me that he wasn't serious. He was teasing me right back. I didn't know if this was a good or bad thing.

"No, no, I am truly interested. Particularly in the mystery of Napoleon's naval plans. I know all about what Nelson plans to do, and before you ask," I held up a well-manicured hand to stop him as he opened his mouth to speak, "I will not reveal any plans, to either side. The outcome of this war is of little consequence to me, like I said, I am not allied to the English, or the French, I am here to observe."

We talked for some time, sometimes not about much, but mainly military issues. I had convinced him, it seemed, that I was indeed neutral after all. Oops, guess some of my power might have slipped into that conversation.

It was after around an hour of us talking that things started to get more interesting, see my magic was working him little by little for all of the time. By now, he was loose enough that he would speak of just about anything, if I brought up the subject.

"We have talked for so long now, Captain St. Juste, surely I must be encroaching onto your important duties." I added a small smile to be sure that we would not part company quite so soon.

Henri consulted his pocket watch, a long finger tracing the edge of the dial as he considered the time briefly. His face seemed to relax and the silver chain snaked between his long fingers as he slid it back into the pocket of his cobalt blue coat.

"It seems, Madame, that I must indeed go to my duties." His face was solemn, though I could see through his aura that he was playing at something. It was always so much more fun when they play the same games as I. "However, I believe that I can trust you sufficiently, so, how would you like to accompany me on a small jaunt across Paris?"

"Thank-you for your invitation, Captain, I am sure that it will be wonderful. The city is so beautiful this time of the year."

Standing first, Henri found himself unable to take my chair; the gentleman Captain contented himself with taking my hand in his as I rose. As I stood beside him, I realised his eyes, which up until now I had thought to be simply brown, were more amber as the sunlight caught them. Maybe he was something more than he appeared, even to me. A Witch perhaps, but one that didn't know what they were. He was human, that was for sure, but definitely something more.

Once I had straightened my long skirt, I held Captain St. Juste's arm as we walked to the door, the sunlight still streaming through the frosted glass. Finally being this close to him, I could feel that he exuded warmth that was more than body heat. Of course, I lapped it up like a kitten with cream and it was delicious. I wouldn't say that I could taste his power, but that's the closest sense that I can relate it to.

I rolled his power around my mind like you'd savour the melting of fine chocolate, taking all the elements in. There was a warmth, the same tingling heat that I had felt move along my skin, and a calm power that seemed to be waiting for something; maybe another life. I saw that more than you'd believe in those days, there's so much power in people, but it seems that they're all just waiting for some other time to release it.

"Where are we going?" I asked merrily as the glass door closed behind us. The autumn air was cool, but the shun shined enough so that the only chill was from the wind that blew my hair over my left shoulder to mingle with Henri's chestnut mane.

"I must pick up an important package from a contact in the back streets near Rue de la Nord." Henri's face remained politely calm, but he seemed nevertheless a little nervous.

I smiled back at him, and we set off towards the North. The street on which we walked was lined with tall poplar trees, each fenced around with decorated iron railings. My low heels clicked on the stone of the pavement as I looked over at Captain St Juste, his long nose in sharp profile against the grey buildings. His lips were full, and a lovely shade of deep pink against his brown skin, a colour not born of his work. It was all natural.

I've still to work out what made Henri St Juste enter the military. He was of sufficient breeding that he need not be forced into service of his country, and had intelligence enough to succeed at anything he turned his attentions to. Yet here he was, lower in rank than many of equal stature, and having worked his way up from the bottom, too. A man simply did not throw away privilege for no reason.

By now, the street had narrowed into a residential part of the city, tall houses looming either side of us. The air had cooled as we walked along in the shade of the buildings, my hand on his elbow. I felt his lean muscles tense as we approached the top of a smaller street and he slowed his pace. The street was more like an alley, with the houses on either side leaning together more the further down the street I looked.

"Do you wish to continue?" Henri turned to face me, "The smaller streets can be dangerous. You could remain here, where it is safe, I shall only be a minute."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I could handle myself better than him, after all. "Besides, I have a strong Captain to protect me." I squeezed his arm a little to reassure him.

"Very well." Normal sound disappeared almost completely as we entered the alleyway, filled instead with something indescribably thick, broken only by occasional crashes from the other side of grimy windows and the sound of small mammals that my inhuman ears detected running in the shadows.

Eventually, we reached a black door that seemed in a vaguely better condition than the rest of the street and Henri knocked sharply three times. A panel slid back, revealing a pair of plain brown eyes surrounded by grimy skin. The eyes grunted and a few opened locks soon revealed them to belong to an equally plain man. He beckoned us in wordlessly and we entered the dark square of the doorway.

Inside, the house lived up to its exterior appearance, though it seemed rather more full of mismatched objects than I expected the average house in this part of town to be. A tall dresser that looked like it had fallen into place crowded the small hallway in which we now stood. It was adorned with all manner of objects, from porcelain crockery and ornaments to blackening silverware. To me, it seemed to be a collection of all the pretty things that the occupant owned, collected and displayed in a vain attempt to impress visitors they never received.

"Didn't know you were bringing a present, Captain," The man sneered. His voice was thick and crackly as he spoke in French, then chuckled, looking me up and down in that disgusting way that some men do. The men that usually have to pay for what they want. He wasn't ugly, but as he licked his lips, I saw that his manner was repulsive. He was a low-life.

"This woman is a friend of mine, and a respectable person. You so much as look at her the wrong way again and I'll see to it you'll never befoul another woman with your filth." Henri scowled as he spoke, despising the man, and I fixed him with a stare that chilled him to the bone. "Now, have you got the package?"

Another grunt, and the man shuffled off into one of the doorways down the hall. Henri turned to me, an apologetic and slightly shocked look on his face.

"I am so sorry, Persephone, I should have warned you about Pierre." He spat the man's name like it were poison in his mouth, then his brow furrowed as he waited for my reply.

The way that my name trickled off his tongue had distracted me, and my mind had wandered onto planes that you could never imagine. The sound had slid down my body like a cool stream of water, heightening my senses and making everything brighter, even in this dingy wallow. Words failed me for just a moment; instead, I smiled meekly and nodded to Captain St Juste.

Pierre returned after another moment, shuffling back with a thin package of what appeared to be papers, bound in a leather pouch with brown string. Henri took the package with a violent swipe and quickly tucked it into an inside pocket of his coat.

We left without another word to Pierre, the Captain opening the door and ushering me through before him. I can't say that I wasn't glad to be out of there, even if Pierre would have come off a lot worse if he'd have tried anything with me. Henri was seething still as we reached the top of the alley.

I then sighed and turned to the Captain. "I fear we must part ways now, Henri. For you surely must return the package to your commanding officer."

I must have sounded as pathetically naïve as I had tried, because Henri looked a little dejected. "I should return them right away," he sighed, but his face lightened, "But my superiors are not expecting me to come to them until tomorrow morning."

"Oh," I did my best to sound surprised, but even I'm sure it didn't work.

"Madame, it would please me greatly if you would accompany me back to my apartment. It is not far from here and we may continue our conversations there. I have a particularly fine chardonnay that has been begging to be tasted for all too long."

Perfect. I grinned, it was most unladylike of me, but I just couldn't help it. "I'd love to."

I took his arm once again, as we walked further up the street, but this time I let myself be closer to him. I pressed as much of myself against him as I could without seeming overtly like the loose woman I am. Well, it doesn't pay to let the reputation of a good man down.

I smiled all the way down the street, thinking of what was to come and savouring the pure potential of my situation. It was delicious, every possibility there, dancing around my head like a troupe of exotic dancers, each movement sent a shiver to a different place on my skin. An image of Henri gyrating on top of me flashed into my head, his trim muscles moving under that beautiful tan skin; it almost made me moan out loud right there on the street.

Captain Henri St Juste's apartment was not a large one, but it was spacious enough for the time that he spent in Paris. There certainly was plenty of room for me, I've been in much tighter spaces, I can tell you. There were only two rooms, a bedroom with a desk so it doubled as a study as well, and a small bathroom.