Satan's Whore Ch. 03

Almost of their own volition, his hands grasped the bottom of his t-shirt.

She stilled them. "No. Let me."

He watched as her delicate fingers traced down his torso and raised the bottom of his t-shirt up and finally over his head. The cool air in the room lapped at his flesh and he shuddered.

A fingernail traced a line from nipple to nipple and then from throat to navel, coming to rest on the waistband of his underwear. She pulled it down around his erection and past his knees. She held his gaze all the while, finishing the movement with a slight arching of her eyebrows.

"You want me and you are mine," she said.

He nodded. He couldn't speak. Any thought of resistance now was far away.

She cupped his testicles in her hand, suffusing the area with a thrumming energy. He moaned and it sounded to him like the whimper of a small animal. It seemed impossible, but he grew harder. She lowered herself and her other hand encircled his shaft. Long fingernails pressed against its top and the thumb against its underside, five sharp points of exquisite pleasure.

The crown was purple with engorgement. He watched in fascination and expectation as her mouth approached it. Her tongue slipped out from between her lips and licked the tip. The breath he'd been holding rushed out of him and he fought to remain standing. Her tongue snaked around the circumference of his head, leaving it wet and glistening in the moonlight.

"Good?"

Daniel nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

The succubus smiled up at him, dark eyes flashing between dark lashes. His cock rested on the soft, pink bed of her tongue.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips and slid his length upon her tongue into the confines of her mouth. She clamped her lips around him and he felt her tongue undulating wetly along the underside of his length.

How long had he dreamed of this? he thought. How long had he imagined just this, without even coming close to how impossibly good it could feel?

He placed his hands on her head and wrapped his fingers in the shimmering coils of her hair. She moved her head slowly back and forth. More and more of him disappeared into her warm, moist mouth until his entire length rested there. The succubus hummed in satisfaction and an exquisite vibration extended to him.

The hand that held his balls insinuated itself between his legs. Fingers buried themselves between his cheeks and she pulled him towards her until her lips pressed against his abdomen. It seemed impossible, but she'd taken all of him. Unseen muscles within her throat clenched around him in a delicious embrace. Her tongue fluttered beneath him, butterfly-light.

How many times had he denied himself this pleasure? he wondered absently. And for what?

The succubus withdrew and smiled at him.

"Please," he whispered.

"I like it when you say that."

She descended on him again, running his entire length against the exquisite hardness of her bared teeth.

A low moan sounded in the small room and it took him a while to recognize that it had come from him.

Between his legs, fingers pressed his perineum and anus. He wanted to squirm away, but it felt too good.

He felt strangely disembodied. He looked down at the woman who crouched before him and, though he felt it all, couldn't bring himself to fully believe that the cock that slid so easily into her mouth could be his. But he felt it -- the tongue, the teeth, and the delicate hand that stroked him. And he saw the breasts that swayed with her movements and the curve of her waist and the fullness of her ass.

Her hand now moved forcefully along him and her lips exerted a most delicious pressure on the crown of his cock.

With every stroke he felt himself losing it.

With every movement of the silken tongue on him, his resolve drifted away.

He was lost, all too glad to surrender.

He exploded within her, spurting his seed deep in her throat. One spasm followed the other in rapid succession.

He woke. He didn't recall having fallen asleep. Perhaps he'd passed out. He rubbed his eyes, wincing as his fingers closed around the angry red burn on his palm.

He'd fallen asleep at his desk. The candle guttered feebly, half extinguished in its own wax. How fitting, he thought. He blew it out, putting it out of its misery. A tendril of smoke rose from the charred wick.

He sat still for a moment, listening for others who might have had their sleep disturbed b whatever noises he'd been making. But the residence was quiet, unlike his mind.

This was the sixth consecutive night in which his sleep had been interrupted by visions of the succubus. He was fairly certain now that he was either a very sick young man or that Katarina was actively pursuing him.

Either way, he was powerless to resist. His prayers had accomplished nothing.

His defenses were useless.

He closed his eyes and something clicked. In the absence of a defense, perhaps he should go on the offensive.

He smiled. He knew what he had to do.

***

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