I Stalk the Succubus Pt. 01

They usually assign me the more mature succubi, those in the 200 to 300 year old range because of my ratings and experience. Of course I have been well trained from an early age in fulfilling succubi. A curious occupation; it wasn't as though there weren't plenty of humans to feed these beautiful monsters. Hell, some men and even women would pay to take a chance on leaving this earthly life that way. But my clients often had a personal reason for seeing a particular succubus taken out. She had fed on a cherished loved one, or, like a rogue elephant, she was destroying too many human men in a region and making a particular police department look bad. Sometimes, on the down low, I had been hired by other succubi, those going hungry because one talented member of their club was getting too well fed.

In any case, I never know who put out the hit. The Organization takes care of all of that. Give me my target and let me work. I enjoy my job. Oh, it has its risks, but I get to hang out with beautiful ladies in fancy places, or seedy places, wherever men go to pick up easy women. There's also a bit of detective work involved since succubi are so good at shape shifting and disguising their personas; and staying ravishing for a few hundred years. So it may take a bit of work to track my target. And no one seems to mind if I take out an extra one or two in doing my research. But the Organization doesn't want me wasting too many of my "resources" on the hunt, or spooking my quarry.

Most succubi will not work in brothels, or even walk the streets much, unless they are starving. I mean, sooner or later the human hookers would notice that the clientele were disappearing. Oh, there were some of the suckers, as we sometimes call them, who could nurse a client along for quite a while before going for the ultimate fulfillment. But it was the stuff in that last filling that really lit them up.

My trainers had approached me quite young, kind of like they do with Tibetan monks, and told me what it would take to do the job. It meant I had to disguise myself as a human. That required keeping my horns shaved down to nubs, removing most body hair, and getting face and hoof surgery. That was the most painful and humiliating part. It was a little easier for me since I was born half satyr. Tailored my lips to make them a bit more human and less goat. The feet were tough. Shaping the hooves. Wearing prostheses so I look like a regular guy. My parents wouldn't let them mess with my legs. So I just wear baggy pants. I don't bob my tail, either. Just shave it to leave a fuzzy tuft at the tip. It's like having a twisting cock on my backside. I wear my hair in heavy dreads and that disguises my horns just fine.

So I look like a large dark athlete; and I cultivate that story.

The other part of the training is more fun. Controlling my cock size, so I can present at first like a modest human ... Saving up semen so I can release when and how much I want. Toughening the tongue and fingers so they won't be vulnerable. Developing some resistance to succubus milk. Learning all the secrets. Practicing on humans and other volunteers.

This time I have a hard challenge, a particularly talented and venerable practitioner of male draining who has gone by a hundred names. But I think I have tracked her to her lair, a classy men's club on the east end of Ventura in Harbor Village. Pretty positive it's her because she likes the seaside places. A sailor snack. A lonely tourist.

My usual routine is to come to the place on an irregular, regular basis, often in the company of a couple of beautiful women; my practice volunteers. I might play some pool or just watch a game and knock back a couple of boilermakers. I've got so alcohol in normal amounts has almost no effect on me. But I've gotten good at acting as though I am pretty smashed.

Meanwhile, I'm very subtly seeking out my quarry.

You see, a succubus cases the crowd a bit differently from human women. It's all in the eyes. They may try to disguise it, but there is this hunger, like a tiger that has spotted its prey. Once the eyes have locked onto their quarry you can see the whole body go into gear. It's usually kind of subtle, but you can kind of see her shoulders shift, like she is getting ready to take hold of something. Her neckline and breasts, if they are exposed at all, start to gleam and swell a bit; and you can see her breathing get faster and deeper. Her lips will begin to move, just a little and you might see her show just a bit of pointed tongue as she moistens her lips.

(Incidentally, new guys on the job can confuse a succubus with a vampire, a dangerous mistake, since the vampire is like an evangelist. She wants to kill you fast and convert you into one of her own. But vampires almost always get this stoned look when they have chosen their quarry. And no matter how good their makeup, they always look pale, even the Black members of that crew. In fact, they are hard to miss.)

Now a succubus looks a little different depending on whether or not she has fed recently. Those who are recently or regularly nourished have a glow, kind of like a gal who is newly pregnant. The more they feed, the more they glow, until .... Well, that's my job, to help them really enjoy that last meal. Of course, it can be a contest. She may hate to lose a fine 'feeding station,' but the sisterhood will want her to take me out, and I don't mean a polite date.

So here we are at the Windward Club, kind of a combo of a fish restaurant with the big stuffed fish on the walls and then some spookier touches, like sharks and barracuda hanging from the dark ceiling and pirate paraphernalia, skulls and chests full of fake gold, and bones or wrecked ships on the walls. All the gals who work here dress as pirates, with Mexican scooped-neck blouses and fake leather skirts slit up to the thigh. Some of 'em dance, some sing, some are just waiters and at least a couple are ...succubi.

I spot my quarry. She's this dark redhead in a green bandana, kind of has the feel of vintage actress Jane Russell. Dark flashing Spanish eyes. Dancer's legs. Tits that keep almost toppling out of her blouse. And a really dirty mouth. In many ways. She'll give some Joe a tongue kiss right on the dance floor. Call out 'her' girls as a buncha bitches. Call the management cocksuckers. In other words, your regular girl next door.

So I have to ignore her for a while; act like every other woman is hotter than she is. Pretend I don't notice when she starts to notice me not noticing her. Still, I do notice that she has the water-gals filling my drink a little too full and not cheating on the alcohol content. She wants me drowsy. She wants me asleep.

Now, as you may know, a succubus does her best work when a guy (or sometimes a gal) is out cold. Because then she doesn't have to careful. She can let her eyes change and her horns sprout. She doesn't have to play games about how much or how little she will take, and from where.

But there is a risk in getting a dude drunk. Cause booze can make a guy wilt, and even though she might milk a little out of me she won't get the full feed.

Of course, they have their tricks. They can slip a pecker pumping pill into your drink and they don't mind at all if that stiffie doesn't go down for four hours or more. They'll take all of it and leave you a husk. Fortunately, we're trained to sniff out the chemicals and skip the drink. But it doesn't make a big diff to me; just a better chance to string them along and fill 'em up.

So I was looking forward to this challenge. But it might take a few days. A green Sucker I might blow up in an evening. But a vet like this would probably take a few days. And I would have to bamboozle her about my work, and/or make her overconfident and sure she could suck me dry before I filled her. Cat and mouse and we are both big felines. So here goes nothing.

It takes a while before she makes her move. Sends other gals my way to see what I got. At least one is a sister, pretty green. One even hints that she would do me under the table in a dark corner. Hmm, looks like they got it set up for that. Long tablecloth. Wonder how many dudes have been taken out, starting at that table?

Their slang for us? Well, not for me, but for all the rest? Cocktails. 'Cause their victims are intoxicating mixed drinks. What do they call stalkers like me? Bellows, like in a blacksmith shop for blowing the fire up red hot. Sometime pumps. Same idea. Or a lot of very nasty expletives not appropriate for the elegant women they pretend to be. Hey, it's all in the game.

It's too bad I can't give some of the lesser little demons the benefit of my spunk. But they could get wind of my secret and send some incubus or other big devil to take me out. Not. So I stick to human women and damn few when I am on the job. I need to harbor every ounce of my juice. My fancy pirate queen should appreciate that I am saving all my 'love' for her. But it is to protect myself, mostly. Because I have to outlast her. Once in a while, when we have a particularly fierce Sucker to conquer, the Organization sends in a team, especially if multiples are her kink. But that's a logistic nightmare for all of us, even her, because she has to put a bunch of dudes into dreamland at once. And we have to con her into thinking we are all a bunch of innocents, or sacrificial lambs.

I prefer the one on one, mano a mano.

So this one, the Pirate Queen started the play by having her girls tease me up as best they could, topping off my drinks, stroking my thighs under the table, offering 'free' lap dances, spiking my drinks with 'mother's milk'. (That's a squirt or two of mammary juice from a breeding succubus. Potent stuff if you haven't been trained and inoculated.) I had a feeling that the breeder was actually my quarry; another good reason to take her out before fast growing Sucker baby demons popped into the world.

Took a while for her to get around to me herself; But she sure didn't want to turn me over to any of the junior crew. You see, once they get the scent, and I mean that literally; they can smell when you are a good quarry and have the best juice, then they don't want to share to much. You can see them getting a little bitchy with each other and that's when you know one of them, especially the alpha Sucker will make her move.

I stayed away for the better part of a week. But when I came back to the club I gave all my attention to the youngest; giving Mamma Pirate the strong impression I was going to give it up to this fresh one. She really had to make her move.

She tried to brush the young one off, but this neophyte, I think her 'stage' name was Circeen, she was hooked on the scent. I made sure she was truly hooked by taking a secret swipe of my organ, which was politely oozing a bit; then gliding a bit of my slick on Circeen's lower lip.

You should have seen the nostrils on that gal flare. If, up to that moment, I had not know the identity of every succubus in the room, I found them out at that moment. There's an electricity and every Sister is tuned to one who is honed in on her quarry. And Circeen, who I had been playing at for three weeks, was ready to dive under the table and relieve me of some delicious juice right there.

I took that opportunity to me the dark eyes of the Pirate Queen. She had the best self-control of her sisters and yet I could see that slight glow of deep red in her pupils. I could feel that her talented tongue was hungry to lick her lips.

Casually, she made her way to my table, effectively shooing away Circeen and the others except for a couple of gals who were no threat. Perhaps they hoped to get some "sloppy seconds" that would satisfy their jaded tastes. But I could tell that the Pirate Queen was eager to systematically use me up. I would have some serious acting to do. I needed to string her along, giving her the idea that I was losing it, little by little. What would be her first move?

"I'm Morgan," she purred deep in her throat.

"Of course you are."

"Have you had fun playing with my girls?"

"Yes, I have. They're a lively bunch."

"But not spirited enough to take home? I thought one of them would be bringing me a little of her extra money one of these mornings."

"Is that how it works ... here?"

"Sometimes. If you played your cards right."

"Cards is not really my game. And I never pay a lady for her services; though sometimes I like to treat her to something nice...."

"I see." She flipped a chair around and straddled it backwards, revealing long well-toned legs, simultaneously materializing a twisted black cheroot, which she wanted me to light. I ignored it.

"What is your game? If I might ask ...?" Her legs were restless and revealed thick thighs in dark silk stockings, clasped tightly by frilly garters.

I patted her on the thigh in a fraternal way.

"Oh I've had a shot at several: Basketball; tight end on a minor league football team; mixed martial arts... others ...."

"So, you consider yourself a tough guy?" She slid a kitchen match out of her garter, revealing a brief glimpse of her secret weapon, and scratched it to light on the bottom of my shoe.

I could feel the energy of the other Suckers watching from their strategic purchases in different parts of the room. I had heard of a flock descending on an unfortunate victim and finishing me off all at once. But such a thing had never happened on my watch. not likely in a public club. I'd had to play with two, and that was tricky.

Morgan blew a smoke ring that circled my face.

"Why do I get the feeling that my girls are too lightweight for you?"

"You get that feeling?"

"Uh huh." She trailed a finger slowly up my thigh. I sat tight.

"And what do you think we should do about it?"

"Hmm, well, we could try a change of scene ...?"

"You think that would make a difference?" She had the scent now, her nostrils flaring, though she tried to control it. She flowed from her chair to the seat beside me and slid a net-stocking shapely thigh on my own. This was pretty bold, but the whole club seemed to be in suspended animation, the other gals pretending to be occupied with other customers. Still, I could tell they were sneaking glances. Could the Pirate Queen snag this big fish? It was as though the air had grown thicker and perhaps a bit poisonous. Maybe it had. Other customers seemed to be growing drowsy as certain of the other Suckers moved in on them.

I feigned a certain fuzziness while in fact my attention was as sharp as a stiletto. Morgan was sneaking fingers up my inner thigh. She bent close.

"If you do nothing else tonight I need to feel those big strong lips on my little titty. I'm dying for it."

Of course she was. Or rather, she was dreaming of me dying for it. If she was in brood or even in heat that teat would ooze a toxic brew. Well, I had a plan.

I slid two large fingers under her satin top and squeezed a long stiff nipple. I wasn't too gentle. I wanted to get some juice from it. Yes! She was in brood and a slippery squirt slid into my hand. I watched her eyes and mouth.

Uh huh, as I expected, her eyes turned up in her head and she emitted a little growl.

"Well, mama," I murmured. "What have we here? Can I be your baby?"

I took the two fingers coated with her milk and slowly put them in my mouth. Watched her eyes flare. She knew this was supposed to be the perfect Mickey Finn or roofie, to knock me down, if not out.

Keeping the stuff sequestered in one cheek, I shook my head.

"Tasty. But pardon me a minute, miss. I gotta see a man about a horse. Splash some water on my face. Powerful drinks they serve here."

It was a dance. It was a maneuver. I knew she would head me off at the pass as I exited the Men's Room. But I had a chance to spit out the milk and take a bolt of Jolt. Maybe she was onto me, but I just needed to stay one beat ahead.

Of course it wasn't Morgan herself who ambushed me just as I was zipping up; a tall voluptuous brunette placed a hand on my hand, copping a serious squeeze of my package. Her eyes grew wide. Even though I could tighten my dick down to large human proportions my balls were another matter. I can say I am hung like a serious ram, and she had caught a swipe. I could feel her energy rise. Her lips were busy imagining my taste and she glued herself to my hip as she steered me to a back room.

"I'm Victoria, and I believe we have something very special planned for you." She was trying to purr but she was practically growling. "This way." There was no pretense to how she rubbed up against me; and her intoxicating musk, masquerading as an exotic perfume, wafted around my face, seeking a way to cloud my brain. I allowed myself only the tiniest sniff as a stimulant to the work I was about to do.

The boudoir where she led me was fit for a pasha from the East. A luxurious chaise lounge filled much of the place. A fully stocked bar with a floor to ceiling mirror; an elaborate sound system; a huge screen for playing whatever tickled my fancy and a full bevy of 'servants': an athletic masseuse in a skimpy tunic; a bartender with huge breasts spilling from her bodice; a dresser, ready to provide me with the most comfortable of garments, or gracefully remove the ones I had on; a barber, to give me a trim and a close shave. And Morgan.

The succubus queen had changed into a silky garment that seemed to swirl around her like liquid as she moved.

"Please make yourself comfortable, kind sir, and our mixologist can brew you exactly the potion that will delight your tastes."

I knew what that was about. These Suckers had their own brand of roofies that would knock a dude out and get his juices flowing in their direction at the same time. I reached for the shaker.

"I have very particular, some would say peculiar tastes, so ..."

Morgan wanted her girl to mix up her lethal potion, so she, of course, objected.

"Oh, Lucretia here has a lot of experience with the tastes of many men, and she can cater to your smallest whim...."

"Thanks, Lucretia, I'm sure I could fill your smallest quim, too. I have some expertise in this, and...no offense, but I like to mix my own drinks. May I?" She reluctantly handed me the shaker. Morgan was making faces which I knew meant, "Slip him something lethal when he isn't looking."

I have to admit, I put on a bit of a show. But there was method in my pyrotechnics. As I picked up many bottles, flipped them behind my back; spun them on the counter; opening one and seeming to take a taste, then mixing up my own magic brew; I was, in fact sniffing out any of the knock outs they had added to any of the liquors. So while it looked like I had made up a punishing concoction that would fell a rhinoceros, my drink was a simple safe bourbon with lots of seltzer and ice. I did make a mistake, though. I hadn't counted on the mother's milk they had slipped into the ice cubes. Still, they take a while to melt.

I retired to the lounge, sipping out of the shaker itself like I was putting on a show of really hitting the stuff. But I planned to nurse the thing and guard against Lucretia 'topping it off.'

"Wouldn't you like to get more comfortable?"

Delilah, the (un)dresser was rubbing up against me like a pussycat-in-heat and tugging at my turquoise Indian belt buckle. I caught her hand trying to steal down to where the jewels were hidden, and I playfully slapped it.

"Maybe in a little bit. Right now I'd like to relax and enjoy the company of you ladies. Could you maybe put some music videos on the screen, or some good blues on the speakers there, and I'd sure love to see some of you ladies dance for me...."