An Intimate Memento

'What are you doing?' snapped the exalted voice of one of The Gods' representatives on earth, the noise, sounding like a whip-crack through the warm air of the modest tavern room, made Naamah leap to attention, slamming the lid down on the small, ornate box in front of her.

She turned, smiling, her face the very picture of innocence, if you ignored the fangs, curling black horns, and the little forked tail swishing nervously behind her, 'nothing!' she sang, 'how's things downstairs?'

Orlina shrugged off her shield of justice and hung her mace of face-smashing back onto her belt, 'under control,' she sneered, 'you made quite a scene on entering.'

Naamah kept her back pinned to the dresser, cocking her head, her too large, all black eyes absorbing any light that touched them. It was no surprise her mere presence had nearly started a riot, even with her powers choked by the enchanted, thick iron collar around her throat, she was an alluring sight. Slim, short, purple-skinned, wearing a tight top that left little to the imagination and exposed a toned, totally flat stomach (as succubi, born from unholy magics, don't have belly buttons). Her breasts were small, but perky, and her hips flared out obscenely from the black leather trousers she wore, which were so close to her skin, you'd think she had to dress herself in oil each morning to slip into them. A mental image that she, no doubt, would happily encourage.

Orline now turned to give the succubus her full attention. She had been given a simple order, to make sure that Naamah, who was apparently very keen to join her party of adventurers, arrived at their camp in one piece. It had only been a few days of travelling, with a few more yet to go, but already she felt her patience being pushed to its limits. Though she protested her innocence, trouble had followed them like a bad smell. First it had been a convenient band of roving, randy and rutting minotaurs who had torn up their camp-site and sent them sprinting into the woods to hide, Naamah giggling and whistling for them all the way, another time, an over-enthusiastic Orc guard had tried to arrest Orline for kidnapping, and now this, a small-scale uprising in the tavern had nearly separated her from her quarry, after she "accidentally" spilt an entire cask of ale down her already thin top. If Naamah hadn't sworn, under a truth spell, to provide new information on the movements of some dangerous demonic hordes, she would have cut her loose, or struck her down, already.

Naamah stared back with those demonic eyes, pondering her "escort". She really did cut a lovely figure. Statuesque was the word, her dark skin glowed with health, with those proud features, clear, bright eyes, full of wisdom and courage, her armour shining, not a single hair out of place. Her body was powerful, and well-endowed too, as Naamah had spotted while they bathed at a river one day. Her unquestionable beauty was only emphasised by the esteem with which she held herself, and her holy mission. If only, Naamah sighed, she wasn't such a bitch.

'What are you scheming?' she said, reaching for the holy symbol she wore around her neck, the only item of decoration she wore, 'is it a-'

'Malevolent machination?' Naamah finished for her, 'A diabolical doing? A serpentine stratagem?' she suggested, 'no. It's none of those, for your information I was inspecting a memento.'

'A memento?'

'Yes, your holiness, is that acceptable?' Naamah folded her arms over her chest and stuck out her plump bottom lip, 'honestly. First this collar, then I'm not allowed to wear my clothes..'

'Those strings were not clothes.' Orline snarled, thinking back to the pathetic excuse for an outfit the succubus had first met her in. She didn't know where to look.

'And now I can't have my things!' Naamah continued as if she hadn't spoken, 'Perhaps I should start wearing my hair up too?'

Orline bit down on saying that's exactly what she should do, the long, pitch black hair only drew attention to her peachy butt after-all. She relaxed her grip around the sigil on her necklace, 'I... Apologise.' She forced the words through gritted teeth, 'I'm only being cautious.'

Naamah grinned and pranced across the room, she only came up to the Paladin's chest plate, and stuck her little button nose up her to speak to her, 'don't worry about it, we're all friends here.' She pointed to the box on the dresser, 'just don't open it okay?'

'Is it cursed?' Orline gasped, that sanctimonious edge back in her voice, 'how did you-'

'It's not cursed!' She cut her off before she could get going on one of her sermons, 'no spells, remember?' She gestured to the collar again, 'it's just personal, that's all.'

Naamah began to walk past her, swaying her hips masterfully as she did, Orline intercepted her, sticking out armour-plated arm out over the doorway to block her path, 'and where do you think you're going?' She asked.

'I'm going to get some food, I smelt something really good on the walk up here.'

'You understand that your collar-'

'Will render me in unbearable pain should I try to escape, yeah, I know, I'm just going to get some lunch.' She scowled, and averted her gaze, her lower-lip wobbling with expert precision, 'to think you don't trust me... ' she said miserably.

Orline stiffened and swallowed hard, '... Fine.' She spat out finally, '... Enjoy. Don't be too long.' Each word of courtesy was chomped down on like it was about to turn around and bite her back.

Naamah's mood brightened immediately, she ducked under her arm and with a flirty wave, disappeared out of the door, singing quietly to herself. Orline listened after her, until, for the first time what felt like forever, she was alone with her thoughts.

She collapsed back onto the cheap, sunken bed with a weary sigh, her armour felt very, very heavy. She was sore, and grouchy, her muscles were tight and her skin was chaffed from the constant travel. She wanted a bath, a proper one, with oils and candles and a sponge, but most of all she wanted some real food, something homely and honest, instead of the dried beef and hard-tack she had been gnawing on for most of her journey. Oh yes, she knew suffering only strengthened the soul, and she knew that when she joined the holy order, she renounced such petty desires of the flesh. But they were still there, gnawing at her consciousness.

She forced herself to sit up and stripped off the heaviest parts of the plate, she had just begun the long process of oiling her metals when she found her dark-eyed gaze, drawn, inexorably, to the little box on the dresser. She tore her stare away and back to the monotonous task at hand, but her mind wandered to just what kind of memento a succubus might keep.

'I will not look.' She grumbled to herself, 'it would be wrong. I will not betray the trust she put into me.'

"What trust?" A little voice in her head perked up, "trust in a creature that exists to seduce? To sow seeds of discord?"

Orline's grip tightened around her oil-cloth as she wrestled with her conscience. Surely, she must have a right, no, a moral duty, to ensure it was nothing dangerous? Yes, of course, that's what it was.

Even while she was coming to this conclusion, she was already halfway across the room, dressed in her undershirt and trousers, her plates abandoned on the bed behind her.

She approached the box with trepidation, extending her senses for any hints of dark magic in its structure, however she felt no such thing, and leaned over to study the container. It was, admittedly, lovely, if a bit garish. About the size of a woman's jewelry box, the wood stained the same dark purple in Naamah's skin, inlaid with silver, inscribed with binding runes. Ah, bindings, she thought to herself, so it did hold something more powerful than an innocent memento. Satisfied now that her suspicions were confirmed , she felt a fierce grin come over her face, returning to the bed to fetch her holy weapon, her blood hot and ready to smite, she flipped the little heart-shaped latch keeping the lid closed, and pushed it open.

She raised her weapon, eyes burning with righteous fire, but no monstrous teeth came out to tear her throat, but instead, a slim, violet tentacle, poked itself just out of the box, probing the air, almost tentatively, flicking one way and another, as if sniffing its new environment.

Disappointed, Orline leaned in to study the strange creature. It was slimy, that was for sure, goo dripped off of it and covered it in an oily sheen. The very tip was about as wide as her thumb, what body she could see was dotted with deep suckers. She let her weapon fall to her side, extending her free-hand to feel for dark magic around the beast. She couldn't sense anything like malevolence, if anything there was a simple happiness inside the creature, emanating from it like light from a dull lamp, and she had just started to feel quite silly when the probing tendril wrapped itself curiously around her hand, tasting her skin.

She found herself smiling, despite her best efforts, 'friendly little thing aren't you?' she said softly, as the tentacle dripped it's clear, viscous liquid across her palm. The skin underneath it felt soft and pleasantly warm in its wake.

After a little longer of the tentacle's gentle exploration, eventually snaking itself underneath the cuff of her shirt to touch her forearm, Orline took the body of the thing and pulled it off, the suckers made little popping noises as they detached.

'Alright, off you go.' She said genty, pushing it back into its box and closing the lid. She flipped the little latch shut and pulled up her sleeve to inspect it's residue. The suckers had left little circular hickeys, and that clear, thick ooze had given her arm a shine.

Despite its alien nature, she didn't hate the sensation, and she lifted it up closer to her face to sniff. Being a paladin she was, of course, familiar with countless poisons and other tools of evil-doers, and she couldn't pick up any offensive notes, On the contrary, It actually smelt quite lovely; mild and fruity. She glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure Naamah wasn't watching her with that stupid smirk on her face, and flicked her tongue over the ooze.

Her eyes went wide, and she even gasped in shock. Surely it wasn't possible? It tasted identical to freshly baked apple pie! But not any apple pie, she thought, as she sucked more of the goo from her fingers, but like her Grandmother's apple pie, she would recognise that delicate blend of spices anywhere. She lapped and sucked at her skin until it was spotless and swallowed it down greedily. She forced herself to catch her breath, and looked down aghast at her spit soaked wrist.

A flood of questions and curses suddenly rushed into her mind. Why did she feel so hot? Why was her heart beating so furiously in her chest? And what in the name of all that is Holy had come over her? She tossed down her hand like it had burnt her and stalked back to her armour, murmuring her oaths as a mantra, attempting to ground her mind and focus her senses on something other than the wonderful taste that lingered incessantly on her tongue.

She snarled and forced herself to pick up her armour and get back to work. Work had always kept her mind clear, had always helped push away lingering thoughts that may have turned to doubts. Idle hands were the devil's tools, they had always told her. She wasn't sure how long she had been polishing before her eyes went back to the box, pulled, as if on strings, to its unassuming form and very alien content. She tightened her jaw, and snapped her gaze back to her chestplate, only to realise that she had been shining one very specific spot for the last few minutes. She could see her face in it, it did not look happy.

'Why should Naamah enjoy it all to herself?' A quiet, but persistent little voice in the back of her head chirped up, 'does she deserve it? She's wicked, and manipulative, and has somehow stolen your Grandmother's apple pie recipe.' Later, Orline would swear that in the moment, that reasoning made perfect sense.

She pushed herself up and approached the box again with deliberate strides, throwing it open. The rich purple tendril poked itself into the air, and Orline extended her open palm. It took to her quicker this time, sliming over her hand as she slowly lifted it from it's den. If she had been more focused, she may have wondered at just how large the tentacle was that was coming out of the little space, but she wasn't focused, and so, with the tip of the tendril drooping slightly in front of her, she dragged her tongue over it's puckered belly.

There it was, the taste, it slammed into the forefront of her brain and consumed her toughts. The sensation filled her from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, a warmth spread through her and made her fingers tingle, a tingling sensation ran over her skin and made her hairs stand on end. She hadn't even felt the tentacle pushing itself deeper into her mouth, but her lips tightened around it, and she began to suckle slowly at the deliscious limb. The suckers teased and kissed her tongue, and she began to bob her head back and forth.

What was this feeling burning in her chest? The fire had spread from her heart to between her thighs, was it desire? Lust? It couldn't be. She knew those feelings, she had experienced them before her time in the holy order, this was ten times more potent, a hundred times more intense. The feelings absorbed her, and she felt her knees begin to shake.

Orline moaned, the feeling was overcoming her, and the tendril was moving faster in her mouth now, pushing itself to the back of her throat, making her gag. Her legs gave out and she collapsed into a kneeling position, leaning her head back to let the arm take her throat, desperate for more of it's mind-numbing sweetness. She closed her eyes, content to be used, her troubles and stresses forgotten, abandoned to some far-away land. The tentacle felt good in her throat, filling her up, her eyes had begun to water but she felt no pain or discomfort, just that wonderful warmth and growing, pulsing pleasure between her powerful legs. Her hand slipped between them, to tease and rub against her aching pussy, but she knew that it wouldn't be enough to satisfy her. She had never felt anything like this.

Her eyes opened slowly as she felt a cool sensation over her stomach and hips. A small army of thicker, viscous limbs, had fallen out of the box, and two of which were now cupping her waist gently.

One of those little voices in Orline's head piped up that this was definitely a bad idea, but then she swallowed more the sweet nectar, and it dissolved into the haze of delight.

One limb was tickling her stomach underneath the hem of her shirt, staining the fabric as it did so, the other was feeling up her chest, testing the buttons with its agile tip. There was a snap as the front of her shirt was rendered open, and her heavy breasts spilled out. A spike of pleasure shot through her as the limbs wrapped around her breasts, and the powerful suckers latched onto her plump nipples, sucking them to stiff points. She moaned through the obstruction in her mouth, her chin now covered in drool and goo, mixing with the slime now starting to cover her chest. It made her dark skin shine in the low light, and left her breasts tingling intensifying the tentacles touches.

The suckers pulled hungrily at her sensitive nipples, and she groaned and twisted in their grasp, her fingers rubbing faster at the growing wet patch.

She yelped as her hands were suddenly pulled out behind her, two more limbs quickly stripped her clothes from her lower body, and she gasped as the cool air hit her most sensitive parts. The thick tentacles then wrapped around her ankles and hoisted her easily into the air. Orline's brain kicked back into action just long enough to register where she had ended up, and that the tiny box seemed to hold an entire tentacle monster, the limbs were longer than she was tall, and as thick as her thighs near the base. There was a sudden pulse and more of the ooze fired into her mouth and down her throat, she shivered, and her muscles relaxed, letting herself go limp in the tentacle's strong grasp.

Her legs were spread open, and the underside of the tentacle slapped against her aching pussy. Any protest that might have been rising in the forefront of her mind was suddenly pushed away, as she came on the spot. She gasped for breath, choking on the tentacle that was still freely using her mouth. The ooze that now covered her pussy made her clit throb, and she bounced her hips shamelessly against the tentacle's suckers, one of them latched around her stiff clit, sucking hard, extending her orgasm, making her entire body twitch and shake. Her mind went white, her moans filled the room, and were no doubt audible to the people downstairs, but she didn't have the space to care, all she could think about was the beast that was using her, and how good it felt to be under its control.

The tentacle pushed itself inside of her as soon as she came, spreading her pussy open wide as it forced it's thick length in deep. She soon dissolved into a mess of moans, as she gave up a semblance of control, falling into ecstasy. The twin limbs ravaged her, one pumping steadily into her mouth, as the other used her tight cunt, her breasts were squeeze, kissed and pulled at hungrily, and now another wandering tentacle was sliding over her thick thighs and between her firm ass-cheeks, teasing her tightest hole. The tip rubbed around her asshole, tickling it, covering it in the warming ooze. She could hear dripping onto the floor, she wasn't sure if it was excess goo or her juices spilling onto the floor. It didn't matter to her, not at the moment, the room was filled with wet noises as the limbs fucked her steadily, spit-roasting her.

The slender tentacle pushed into her lubed up asshole, and she was stuffed full, pleasure continued to rock her body, making her core tense, all she could do was shake and moan helplessly, the three limbs alternated their thrusts, so there no escape from the sensations that were smothering her.

Time passed in an immeasurably pleasurable blur, broken only when a familiar, teasing voice cut straight to the rage-centre of Orline's brain.

'Having fun?' Naamah purred, hand on her wide hips, staring up at the violated paladin.

'Naamah!' Orline gasped, except her mouth was full, so it came out more like, "Hmfh!'

Naamah looked like the cat who got the cream, even as the juices from her escort's pussy dripped onto her chin. She flicked out her forked tongue to clean it up, cooing, 'how lovely.'

'Hmmf! Hmmf, hmmrf, hmmff!'' Orline preached, the tendril still pounding the back of her throat.

'I can't stop it, remember?' She said casually, pointing to her collar.

'Hmmff!'

'I told you not to open it! This is on you, Paladin.'

'Hmmf-' Orline wrenched her mouth away from the limb, and it began to nuzzle lovingly against her cheek, 'I release thee!' She cried out, infusing the words with her divine power.

The collar broke open from around her throat and fell to the ground with a heavy clunk. Naamah tossed her head back, and laughed, the noise filled the room, possessing the air around them, and magic surged, black flames bursting into life over her body and devouring her clothes. Soon she was nude, twirling and prancing on the spot like an excited teenager, 'yes, yes, yes! Oh fuck that feels better!' She cheered, hopping up and down, with little regard for her modesty.

'Now free me demon!' Orline snarled, as the tendril pushed needily against her soft lips.

'Oh, yeah, that's not how this works.' She said, and leaned forward, lifting one leg behind her and up straight to form a perfect line, stretching like a ballerina, as more tendrils emerged from inside the box. 'This is my pet tentacle monster, Grabby. He'll stop when he gets tired, don't worry, won't be more than a few more hours.'