Meeting My Succubus Ch. 03

I had the impression that if she wanted to The Lady would be perfectly capable of telling me what I needed to know and that there was another agenda here. However, I filed that thought away and being the gentleman I am, or try to be, I rose to my feet to greet her.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor Tsiang. I am Adam Grant."

She turned toward me, blushing slightly but at the same time giving me a shy smile.

"Pleased to meet you too, Adam, and you can call me Michelle."

At this point the non-gentleman took over and when she offered me her hand to shake, surrendering to the spirit of mischief, I bowed down and gently lifted it to my lips. I felt a little shock at the strength of her erotic reaction and a quiet moan escaped her lips.

The Lady then spoke again.

"Why don't you take Adam with you? That way he can ask his questions without an audience and I will have a chance to catch up on a couple of hundred years of gossip with Melantha. You can use the guest bedroom next door."

I could not help but notice Clara and The Lady exchange a knowing smirk. Clara quickly got up and whispered in my ear.

"Have fun. Remember that when you feed you also feed me. Just make sure you tell me all about it tonight."

With that Michelle scurried from the room with me in her wake.

With the door closed behind us she gave an embarrassed little giggle and said,

"Well, that was awkward."

I could not help but agree. It was a bit like being a teenager with a girlfriend having to deal with unsubtle innuendo from well-meaning aunts.

She opened the door to the guest bedroom, which was opulently furnished with a colour scheme based on a vibrant and sensual crimson, and it was clearly the kind of bedroom where sleep was not the foremost function on the interior designer's mind.

It was big enough to have a small table and a couple of elegant antique chairs, and that is where we sat.

Michelle tried to set a professional tone.

"The Lady has been kind enough to let me use her library for my research, although I guess I am never going to be able to publish my results, but on the other hand she pays well. Anyhow, there are not that many reliable sources on the incubus, they have never been much for writing their memoirs, but I will tell you what I know."

She then proceeded to outline how it worked. Some of it I already had some idea of, although she was able to make it clearer, and some of it was new. There was an odd but rather erotic tension between us that came from hearing her describe all this while not referring to the building lust between us, made all the more piquant by her evidently being ashamed of what she felt. I could see a faint blush on her neck and in the top of her cleavage that so clearly signified arousal, the alternation of eye contact and then looking down, the unconscious touching of her hair and even once or twice the nervous biting of her lower lip. It was adorable and at times I struggled not to simply jump her.

At the same time what she was telling me was fascinating.

There had to be mutual lust between the incubus and his 'victim'. When Michelle said victim, she put air quotes around it. This kind of reassured me in a selfish way since I had been worried that I was going to be expected to bang lustful ugly grannies. OK, so I'm shallow, but at least I'm aware of it.

It was also clear that there had to be some form of sexual need or desire on the part of the 'victim' that was not being met. There had to be a strong element of sexual frustration. Amusingly Michelle felt the need to point out that this did not mean that the 'victim' did not love her partner if she had one. However, in this case I could already sense that Michelle did not currently have a boyfriend.

Another feature that many of the sources mentioned was that even before the incubus established more overt power over his 'victim', she would feel a compulsion to tell him of her feelings and secret desires, even though it was clear that he would be able to use this information in her seduction. This power seemed to require proximity, and perhaps even touch. In my mind I speculated on the idea of producing some kind of pheromone that had properties akin to scopolamine. At the same time, I think that both of us were aroused by the fact that Michelle was telling me something I would most likely be using 'against' her quite soon.

Next, she told me that when a woman consumed my pre-ejaculate or precum I would establish complete sexual power over her. It seemed that I produced chemicals that keyed in her response specifically to me. As Michelle spoke, the scientist in the back of my head was speculating on the involvement of dopamine and serotonin in some kind of mechanism with parallels with that of addiction, keying in pleasure to a particular stimulus. She emphasised that in the absence of any sources in the last couple of centuries, people had written about it in a way that did not draw on modern science.

All the sources stressed that what did not happen was the victim falling in love with the incubus, and one insightful writer had even speculated that this was a form of defence mechanism, since the incubus was already vulnerable to the anger of jealous men and the last thing he would need would be to leave in his wake a trail of lovelorn women willing to throw it all away to be with their beloved. Again, this made sense to me, and it made me happier to feel that I would not have to navigate that problem. I even wondered whether the fact that Clara seemed to be falling in love with me might have something to do with her not being human, or at least not fully so.

Michelle floored me though by then mentioning that I had the power to decide on what my ejaculate would do; whether it would impregnate the woman. I could not help but notice that when she began to talk about this area. she no longer met my eyes at all and the constant blush on her upper body deepened considerably. I did not need to be a genius to see that this idea was both arousing and deeply disturbing for her.

I had to ask at this point a more specific question.

"So, I can make a woman pregnant then?"

She hesitated a moment, though not due to a lack of knowledge.

"Yes. Demons cannot reproduce ... in that way ... but because you are also human ... you can father a child and it would be fully human."

She surprised me a little by continuing, after a nervous giggle.

"The sources suggest that you are very fertile. They say that if the woman is not barren and the incubus decides to impregnate her then she will become pregnant, without fail." I could not help but notice that generally Michelle had been careful to talk about 'the incubus', but now suddenly she was referring specifically to me, and I suspected that it was a rather telling slip.

"There are even suggestions from further back, in times and places where the incubus was more common and to a degree accepted, that a woman having trouble conceiving would actually seek out an incubus, even apparently with the tacit acceptance of the husband." This amused me, the idea of the incubus as a forerunner of the sperm donor! What she said next though really blew my mind.

"Once he has sexual power over a woman the incubus can also to make some minor physical changes to her. Again, there is the suggestion that some women sought them out to have them rectify minor but troubling blemishes ... birthmarks and scars." Here both the resident scientist and the resident entrepreneur in my brain pricked up their metaphorical ears. I did not need to be a genius to see the potential!

Michelle had come to a halt, but I could sense there was something else important that she needed to tell me but which she found even more embarrassing than what had gone before.

"Come on. Out with it."

So, she told me, stuttering and uncharacteristically tripping over her words. Once that initial mutual lust is established, that spark between the incubus and his 'victim', it is essential that their mutual lust be consummated. If not, then the need would build in the 'victim' until she literally went crazy from her unsated lust. For the incubus the results were not so immediately devastating but would be the equivalent of someone eating a diet lacking an essential vitamin, and they would become increasingly unbalanced and reckless in their behaviour.

My first reaction was to mentally say 'Oh shit', thinking back to Jasmine, Elena and Sister Mary. Then of course I grasped the more pressing issue and raised my gaze to Michelle. She was twisting her hands awkwardly in front of her. It was utterly adorable and with that my decision was made. I was going to have my wicked way with her. After all it seemed it was my duty, so to speak.

Fate had conspired to release me from the constraints that had always governed my sexual relationships. I had never even considered cheating, but this was not cheating since Clara had encouraged me and believed she would benefit. Consent was not an issue since I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Michelle wanted this. In fact, it seemed I had become a man/ being/indeterminate entity with an ability to perceive consent, removing the need for it to even be stated.

I was going to enjoy this. I was going to enjoy Michelle.

"Come here," I said.

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before getting up and coming around the table to stand in front of me. I examined her, letting my eyes roam freely from her dainty little feet in her heels, up here slim and shapely legs which she evidently looked after meticulously, keeping them smooth and free of hair. My gaze lingered over the way her dress clung to her hips, tight enough to leave a suggestion of the panties she wore, then up over her flat belly to her small but shapely breasts. Though she was wearing a bra I guessed that her nipples were hard enough to show slightly through them, and she was aware of it and this added to her shame, knowing that I knew. And her shame stoked her arousal.

Now my scrutiny had travelled up the perfection of her neck to her lovely face, framed in raven black hair, with her huge brown eyes.

"Tell me, Michelle."

Though perhaps she guessed what I meant, she said,

"Tell you what, Adam?"

"Tell me why you feel so much shame at your lust for me."

She did not try to deny that lust, but she did try to get me to show mercy.

"Don't make me tell you. Please."

"We both know you have to tell me, Michelle. You told me how this works and I am now going to 'reward' you by using it all on you, knowing that you are defenceless against me."

My senses were steadily becoming more attuned to her responses, and I was able to feel how her pussy had clenched as I said the word 'defenceless', even though she had tried to stop it.

"You are worried that your wetness might be showing through that lovely dress of yours aren't you Michelle?"

She gave a little nod, blushing even more than before.

"The good news is that it isn't ... yet. So, tell me."

Michelle gave up and began to explain, remaining in front of me exposed to my casually predatory gaze travelling over her body.

"I was raised in a very traditional Chinese family ... and they ... we ... tend to still see ... white people as being less cultured than us ... less civilised. I know it is stupid, but I guess it has influenced me as well."

I could begin to see where this was going, and found it rather amusing.

"The only boyfriends I've had were Chinese ... and my last boyfriend ... Jack ... had a bit of a complex about white men. It was sort of a mix of superiority and inferiority. He looked down on them culturally and intellectually but ... at the same time ... he imagined that white men were better able to sexually please a girl ... that they had bigger ... cocks."

Again, she hesitated, her pussy having clenched again at saying the word 'cocks', which I was sure was not part of her usual refined vocabulary. I mischievously ramped up her embarrassment.

"The answer is yes, Michelle."

Momentarily derailed, she fell into my little trap.

"What do you mean, Adam?"

"You were wondering if I have a big cock ... and the answer is yes."

This time she clenched so hard her body visibly quivered.

"Please carry on, Michelle."

She took a deep breath and tried to recover her equilibrium.

"On the one hand he hated the whole idea ... but on the other it really ... turned him on. He started to read erotic stories about it. They call it WMAF, which stands for 'white male Asian female'. He even got me to ... talk dirty to him along those lines and he found it ... incredibly exciting. But afterwards he would be so ashamed. And towards the end he would then turn on me ... pretending that it was my fantasy ... and that was when I broke up with him."

She paused, her eyes downcast. Now I spoke.

"But by then the damage was done wasn't it, Michelle?"

She finally managed to raise her head and look into my eyes, though only briefly.

"Yes. His fantasy had become my fantasy. I started reading those stories ... and then ... playing ... with myself."

I had to see the funny side. After all anyone who is not incredibly sheltered has come across the whole interracial genre of pornography, most often the idea of black men with big cocks fucking white women, and everything that goes with it. It had always made me a bit queasy since so often, at least in the past, for a black man to be perceived as showing sexual interest in a white woman, regardless of whether it was reciprocated, was a death sentence. Now I was in a parallel situation where I was the threatening 'savage' male with the big cock! I was not offended but rather amused and incredibly turned on.

Without warning I stood up, and despite the heels Michelle was now looking up at me.

I slowly reached out to her face, gently stroking her cheek, and began to speak in a low voice, injecting a hint of a growl into it, and a certain 'roughness' that was far from the way I was brought up to talk to women.

"My pretty little sophisticated Chinese princess, so refined and delicate, so educated and cultured ... you are about to be violated by an uncivilised barbarian." I guessed that this was not the moment to mention my doctorate in genetic engineering.

She began to lose control of her breathing, first with a gasp and then audibly panting.

"Please, don't ..."

"You know that there is nothing you can do. You are mine by right of conquest."

It seemed to me that her body had begun to vibrate with lust, like a human tuning fork resonating to my words.

"My big barbarian cock is going to defile and stretch that little Chinese pussy of yours and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

I doubt she realised it, but her mouth was now opening to emit sweet little gasps, even though until then my only touch had been of my hand on her face, and her diminutive size made my hands seem quite large. What we were doing was a strange mixture of roleplay and something far more powerful. On some level she was playing a part but at the same time it was becoming ever more real for her. She was still Michelle, the sophisticated and highly intelligent academic, but she was also the princess about to be ravished by the barbarian. Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the way I derived the greatest pleasure from knowing that I was fulfilling her fantasy. It was my first introduction to the idea that a good dominant is one who in fact recognises that the true power lies with the submissive.

"Soon you will no longer be a princess, but just another of my slaves, and do you know what the worst thing about will be for you, the most humiliating thing?"

She shook her head.

"You are going to enjoy it."

My much more sensitive nose could now clearly detect the aroma of her arousal, and I was sure that I would see a damp patch on her dress were I to look.

I stepped back and sat once more.

"Take your dress off, Michelle."

She hesitated and looked at me with a mute appeal.

I laughed mockingly, and simply said,

"Do it."

Unable to look me in the eye, she awkwardly unzipped her dress and took it off. It struck me as comical that she carefully placed her dress on the other chair, and I guessed that it was expensive and she did not want it damaged.

Michelle looked lovely in her delicate matching bra and panties, in elegant and almost virginal looking white lace.

I took my time to examine her once more, knowing how much it was arousing her to be on display like this, and all the while knowing the inevitability of what was coming.

Without prompting this time, she took off her bra. Her breasts were lovely. Small but standing quite high on her body and clearly very firm. Her nipples were surprisingly prominent and the aureoles took up a larger area than I expected. I could not help but say,

"You are very beautiful, Michelle."

Of course, I then added,

"You will make a perfect slave ... once I have trained you."

I could see the flushing of her skin spreading down her neck, over her shoulders and down her arms.

"Take off your panties but leave your heels on".

Michelle obeyed, accomplishing the difficult task of removing her panties over her heels with a charming awkwardness.

Now she was naked. The heels were perfectly fulfilling their task of displaying her legs as well as ensuring that both her arse and her breasts were pushed out.

I had contemplated making her undress me, but I decided against it. I simply stood up without a word and took my clothes off. I didn't rush but neither did I make any kind of display. I was treating her as being of no more importance than the furniture in the room. She was there, just like the chairs or the bed, for my use.

Why was I treating her like this? Because that was what turned her on.

Once I was naked, I sat once more.

Michelle was clearly fighting a powerful urge to stare at my erect cock.

"Look at it." I commanded.

She did and while she stifled any more obvious reaction, she was probably unaware that her mouth was slightly open.

As I think I mentioned before, I was always a bit awkward about getting blowjobs, struggling to believe that it was what a woman wanted. Maybe I was also troubled by something I once read about them being symbolic of men wanting to silence women. However now, with this scene being choreographed by Michelle's own lustful urges, I had no trouble saying,

"Kneel before me, girl, and put your hands around my cock."

In something akin to a trance she did as ordered. The sight of her elegant little hands with their red-painted nails around my manhood was a powerful aphrodisiac. Not that I needed one. Precum was already leaking from the tip of my cock.

"Tell me, Michelle. Is it as big as you imagined?"

Her last vestiges of resistance to her own shameful desires was crumbling.

"It's a lot bigger." The strange thing was that even as she said it, and despite my having the same simplistic male ego as any man, I was aware that it was more arousing to her to say that than it was for me to hear it.

I am not sure whether it was the result of my learning about my demonic nature, needs and abilities, or if it was simply that new part of myself asserting itself, but I simply let go in a way I had never done before with a woman. I followed my urges, perhaps happier to do so knowing that ultimately they were Michelle's. How else could I explain my willingness to use my strength to gently but firmly push her head down so that my cock entered her mouth.

She struggled to open wide enough to get the head in past her teeth. For one bizarre moment I even wondered whether, should she with an involuntary reaction bite it off, my new powers would allow me to regenerate it? This shows I think the strange detachment that allowed me to both be fully in the sensual pleasure of the moment and at the same time to be an observer.