SC - The Succubus Job

Her figure was flawless. He could tell from outside her window that her breasts were large, yet pert. Her lips were a deep red, and full without looking inflated. Her neck begged for kisses; her hips practically cried out for someone to fill her with seed, and damn the child support.

She didn't need to speak, so she only smiled. His eyes glazed over as his mind was overwhelmed with a burning, desperate ache. This, some small part of his mind knew, was magical, and all that was magical came with risks. He fought the feelings of overwhelming lust and worship for a second, but soon gave in. He was not equipped to fight this battle directly, and so he had to do what he always did, something that often caused some measure of regret:

He had to trust Bluebell to deal with the problem.

He walked to Her door, and She opened it immediately, though slowly. As She revealed more of herself in the doorway, She radiated pure sensuality in a way that seemed entirely unnatural... because it was.

"Hello." She said simply, imbuing that one word with the raw lust of a thousand pigs having their ten-minute orgasms. Her voice wasn't quite low, but it was husky, and Ordan nearly left a damp spot on his pants then and there.

She knew exactly what effect she was having on him, and her smile grew even wider.

"Come in." She said, in a soft tone that nevertheless hit Ordan's ears like a command.

She turned, leaving the door open, and he followed her, closing the door behind him.

---

Bluebell watched from down below. She saw Ordan's eyes glaze over, as he gave up all pretense of being drunk, and almost glided through the Succubus' apartment door in a trance. That would be Her, alright. However, the Wizard saw no reason to hurry.

Being a Succubus wasn't, in practical terms, a crime. Attracting potential customers with a little magic wasn't precisely a crime either, though the practice certainly was in a grey area. As long as a Succubus didn't actually kill anyone, or seduce anyone that wasn't already looking for intimate company, well that was just their own damned business, wasn't it?

Prostitutes without magic were often peeved by the loss of the better-looking and wealthier customers, but life was never fair.

What was odd, was that a Succubus with that sort of talent would be working in the Foundry at all. It was like having the palace chef cook street meats; why would anyone bother? Most important, though, was finding out whether the Succubus had actually killed Mr. Aglat. He'd clearly been with Her in the same way Bluebell's uncle had liked to "be with" the better-looking sheep in his vast flocks, but that didn't mean She'd killed the poor man.

Her uncle's favorite sheep had died peacefully, of old age, and they'd certainly earned their rest. Bluebell figured that Succubi saw humans in much the same way, and she was mostly right. She had trouble understanding people, and the lies they told themselves and everyone else to make society run. Monsters were simpler, and truly easier to get along with.

Besides, if they got on her nerves, she could legally kill almost any monster she wanted without repercussions.

As she thought over her current situation, she pulled out a cigar. She paused, cast a quick incantation that purified the air in her immediate vicinity, and lit the cigar. The match flared, the smoke began to rise, and she breathed the flavors in deep. Then, overwhelming even the smell of the smoke, there came a familiar stench.

"Aren't you going to help him?" asked the old drunk they'd met earlier.

She glanced at him, and kept smoking.

"Well?" the old man continued, "Aren't you? He's in there, you know."

Bluebell sighed, and resigned herself to making conversation as she smoked.

"I know. He's fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm keeping tabs on him. Wizard."

He thought for a moment. "You? You're a wizard?"

She nodded.

"Ah. But you know who She is, so why wait?"

"I need a break. Besides, Ordan is just so..." she made a vague motion with her hand.

"Uptight? Anal? Has a monument-sized wooden sandal up his ass?"

Bluebell smiled, but barely, "His parents certainly raised him well. It's a pity. I have fun. Mostly with my books, but I have fun. He almost never does."

The old drunk chuckled. "I suspect he won't thank you much for this 'fun'.'"

"Again, he almost never does." she said, blowing out more smoke.

---

Ordan later attempted to describe the interior of the apartment for his report. Normally, he was quite thorough about these things, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember much besides Her.

As the door closed behind Ordan, the Succubus turned, allowing her loose-fitting dress to fall as she walked toward the plain, but sturdily-built bed. Her luscious ass, for hardly any other noun could describe its magnificence, was as impressive as the rest of her: round, firm, ample, delicious.

"Shall we begin? I'm ready."

She looked back at him, below the belt. "And so are you."

It was true. Ordan's cock was erect enough to bring back some of his more embarrassing teenage memories. She moved over to the bed, and sat on it, beckoning to him.

"Why are you still in those clothes?"

Enthralled as he was, Ordan was in his heart, a gentleman. There was an order to these things, a procedure.

"We... we... haven't discussed p... payment." he managed to stammer out. "Or boundaries. Or safe words. And what's your name?"

For a moment, She was stunned. Then she laughed, delightedly, for nearly half a minute. She wheezed a little, trying to catch her breath.

"Oh, you adorable boy! Let's see... your clothes are well-made, if a little stained. I'm sure you can afford me. You can do anything you like that doesn't draw blood, my safe word is 'harder' (you won't need one), and my name is Tanie. Will that do?"

Almost before she'd finished, he was removing his satchel, shoes, and shirt, and dropping his pants like he'd never need them again. He stood before her with a raging erection, shivering with raw desire. She smiled up at him, cooing softly and lifting her hands to his body. A career of walking, running, and fighting had left him fit, and she began to trace her fingers over his abdominal muscles.

And that's when his whole body jerked back. It was sudden, almost violent, and the Succubus was startled.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, with an air of mild concern.

"I'm... I'm... ticklish."

"Oh." she said, thinking quickly, " Is that something you're into, or...?"

"No. No, I hate it. It's like torture." he said, without even a trace of a stammer this time.

She smiled again. "That's alright. We have all night to discover what you like, what excites you. Well, an hour or so, at least. A girl's gotta eat."

At that last remark, Ordan's lizard brain screamed a little. Tanie stood up from the bed and moved in close.

"It's alright." she said, as she leaned in to kiss his lips lightly.

That didn't seem to provoke a reaction. She put her hands on his shoulders, and darted out her tongue and licked his well-defined jawline, and he jerked back again. This time, he ended up on his own fairly well-defined ass, staring up at Tanie. His legs were splayed, as his erection pointed straight at her.

Tanie covered her mouth, and snorted. "Alright, we're going to have to be even more careful."

She sat back down on the bed, and beckoned him once more, "Come here."

---

Tanie, for her part, was not happy with how her last couple of days had gone. First, there'd been poor Dumb-Ag, the cursed idiot. She hadn't meant for that to happen, but it had, and now here she was. Apparently someone from the Guilds was investigating the death, but she still needed to earn a living.

Then there was this poor boy. He was neither the prettiest nor the most masculine man she'd ever had, but he was charming in his own way. He'd resisted the pull of her magic through sheer will, all to display something that might have been courtesy, if he hadn't been driven half-mad at the time. It really was adorable; he was like a puppy that wasn't quite sure if he deserved the bone he was being offered.

The immediate problem, of course, was his tendency to jerk away whenever she touched him. His sheer panic at being tickled was strong enough to temporarily disrupt her hold on his mind, even if only for a split second at a time.

At least he hadn't managed to accidentally lie on her hair just when she was trying to get out of bed. She hated that with a passion.

But she was ready, now. She'd focus on the only part of a man that was almost never ticklish, namely the boy's painfully throbbing cock. He clearly needed this as much as she did, if not more.

As he came toward her, she opened her mouth invitingly. Needing little encouragement, her desperate client slowly pushed the head of his cock past her lips, and to her waiting tongue. The shaft was warm, a little salty with recent sweat, but not unpleasant. She was grateful for his apparent sense of hygiene, and further impressed with his restraint. Many a more experienced man would have been ramming his cock desperately towards her throat by now.

She let out a low moan, for the boy's benefit, and slowly began to move her head back and forth, savoring his shivers, his guttural moans, and the lust building inside him. The energy in this boy could leave her sated for two whole days, maybe more if she was lucky. He was wound tighter than an ugly choirboy's asshole.

Carefully, she took him further into her mouth, as she reached around behind him. She placed the flat palms of her hands on lower his back, and carefully allowed her fingers to sink into his flesh as well. As long as she kept her digits stuck together, she wouldn't tickle him. He tensed for a brief moment, but relaxed, and allowed her to go to work on his shaft.

Her throat hummed, and her tongue swirled as she guided him in and out slowly, carefully. She began to feel even more heat rising up along the shaft, and she moved her hands down to his buttocks. In a thoughtless moment, she squeezed, splaying out her fingers as she did so.

Tanie was no stranger to a good throat-fucking, but she liked to be prepared for that sort of thing. She was not prepared for her client's hips to suddenly buck forward, away from her hands. His cock was on the longer-end of the average, and hit the back of her mouth with a force she could not have anticipated. This was a reaction as involuntary as a heartbeat, and as unexpected as finding out that the Snow Demon wasn't real, and her parents bought her presents every decade.

She lurched back herself, choking as she hadn't since she'd first tasted the air of the Foundry.

Succubi and Incubi were trained from birth to control their emotions; it was a survival skill. Though she was young for a Succubus, she was experienced in all manners of pleasure, and had taken on nearly every kind of client. None had been so frustrating as this. She felt a tear begin to form, but refused to break down in front of a mindless client.

"Uuuuurrggghh." she growled quietly, releasing the frustration as quickly as she knew how.

"Ma'am, I am so, so sorry. I had no..."

"Forget it." she cut him off abruptly. Then, seeing the fervent regret on his face, she softened.

"I'm alright. It was my mistake." she said, firmly but gently, as she turned around on the edge of the bed. "I usually like to be in control, but we'd best get on with this. You just bring that delicious cock of yours over here and fuck me. I won't touch you."

She placed herself on all fours, and lowered her head toward the mattress. Presented with her delectable, round, and slightly swaying ass, the boy couldn't help himself.

"Yes Ma'am!" he said, as he eased his cock into her perpetually slick pussy.

He moaned, reveling in her warmth, as Tanie herself reveled in his youthful passion, which was a source of magic on its own. He began slowly, but steadily increased his speed, and the strength of his thrusts. He groaned, and he grunted, beginning to sweat with the exertion of the act, mesmerized by the movement of her flesh as he moved back and forth.

Tanie found herself without much to do at this point. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying herself, but when you're a Succubus, even a young one, doggy-style becomes somewhat pedestrian over the centuries. To pass the time, she decided to try something she usually avoided: She engaged her client in light conversation.

"That's good." she purred. "You're clearly no virgin. How... how in the Mother's name did you manage to lose your virginity, anyway? What with your skin being so sensitive?"

The boy was clearly preoccupied with moving in and out of her cunt, but he managed to managed to reply.

"With considerable difficulty."

She laughed, throatily.

"That makes sense, I suppose. Is there any part of your body, besides your scrumptious cock, where you aren't ticklish?"

"Not... really." he said between pants. He was going full steam ahead, now.

"Why do you think... they picked me... for this job?" he continued, his mind addled by sorcery and sex.

---

Ordan was in an afterlife, one of the good ones, for all he knew. There was nothing but intense, mindless pleasure, and the heat was spreading down his shaft again. He knew he was having a conversation of some kind, but for the life of him, he had no idea what they were talking about.

Apparently, it was something decidedly not-good.

In one horrific instant, the heat was gone, the flesh was gone, and the mind-numbing lust was gone. It was Tanie's turn to violently jerk forward, as she sprang up from her position, jumping toward the wall on the other side of the bed. She kicked off from the wall mid-jump, spinning her self back toward Ordan with a growl. She reached for him, bearing him to the ground with all the rage of a man who's just realized he's only special to his mother.

His head hit the floor with a resounding crack, as she landed on top of him. She punched him hard in the gut, then moved forward, pinning his outstretched arms beneath her knees. She grabbed his throat with her left hand, and slapped him hard with her right.

"Who do you work for?! Tell me now, and I might allow you to live." she hissed.

Ordan struggled to breathe. He wondered, not for the first time, why people always demanded answers after they started choking him. It was impractical and worse, it was unprofessional. Ask questions, then torture them, then ask more questions. That's how it was supposed to work.

He tried to speak, but she would not relent. Darkness faded in at the edge of his vision.

"Where the ever loving fuckstick cunt shit eating hell is Bluebell?" he thought.

---

Bluebell and the old drunk were in the middle of a spirited debate regarding existential matters.

"You either like peanut butter and banana, or peanut butter and jam. The textures are far too different for anyone reasonable to like both!"

"I like dick and pussy, both. The textures are very different. Why can't I like both kinds of sandwiches?" Bluebell countered.

"You would." the man grinned slyly, "But sandwiches are a whole different subject."

"Different how?"

"Well there's genitalia... and then there's sandwiches."

Bluebell sighed in frustration. "The two topics are just similar enough to use the same logical argument. Why on the Accident can't I like two different things? They both have peanut butter! And so do genitalia, sometimes."

The man stopped, and swayed in thought.

"I've never tried that." he admitted. "Is it any good?"

Bluebell waggled her hand to indicate that putting peanut butter on genitalia was a mediocre experience at best.

"It's mostly messy. Put on too much, and you just have a mouth full of sticky peanut butter. I say it's not worth it."

"You know..." he said, changing the subject, "your partner has been in there for some time."

"Yes." Bluebell replied, unconcerned.

"Shouldn't you..."

The drunk old man was cut off by a distinctly thud-like sound, though it was muffled by four stories of distance. Had they been inside an actual building full of apartments, they might never have heard it.

"Goodbye." Bluebell said curtly, as she withdrew a green powder, and spoke one of the thousands of words of power she had tucked away in her mind.

This was a spell she always kept prepared, just in case. The magical wind roared in her ears, and the skirt of her dressed wrapped itself tightly around her legs (for reasons of modesty and practicality) as she began to rise through the air. Skipping the staircase, she was on the fourth level of apartments in seconds, and she came to rest as her skirt loosened itself.

Another word of power knocked open the door to the Succubus' apartment. Ordan was in trouble, and Bluebell intended to draw the monster's attention. It worked.

Just inside the door, Ordan lay on the floor naked as an old man in a gymnasium's changing room, with the Succubus' hand around his neck. Her other hand was raised, poised to strike again, but the monster was staring straight through the open doorway, and she seemed frozen in time. Bluebell stood there, with fire in her eyes, lightning crackling around her ears and hair, and a savage grin on her face. That grin had been known to make the undead rethink their life choices, and Tanie was not immune.

"Stand." said Bluebell calmly, in a tone that would suffer no disobedience. Still, Tanie hesitated.

"Stand, or I'll kill you now, and my Companion will just have to take his chances."

The hand on Ordan's throat began to release slowly, and he croaked, "You left me alone with Her. Again. You bitch."

The Succubus stood slowly, hands lowered, but out to her sides, palms facing forward.

"I wasn't... I wasn't going to kill him."

"Like you didn't kill Mr. Aglat." Bluebell sneered.

Tanie panicked. "I didn't! I swear on the Mother..."

She didn't get a chance to finish, as a blast of freezing cold power swept her off her feet, and slammed her into the back wall of the apartment. It wasn't an ice spike, but an enveloping layer of ice that wrapped around Tanie, and held her up against the wall. The light of the magic lamps glistened off the surface of the ice, and the Succubus sagged in defeat.

"Amulet." Bluebell ordered.

Ordan considered telling her to get it herself, but thought better of speaking at the moment. He began to rise, one hand on his burning throat. His mind was clear now, and he knew he should be very, very angry, but he was far too exhausted to manage more than irritation. He walked over to his pants, and put them on first, attempting to recover some shred of his dignity.

Then he recovered his satchel, withdrew the amulet, and carried it over to the imprisoned Succubus. This was his first chance to see her clearly, with no illusions in the way. Her skin was still mostly brown, but it also had had a bluish tinge, though that could have perhaps been caused by the ice imprisoning her. She had short, almost adorable horns sticking up from her forehead, but her face looked mostly the same as before. Her figure wasn't far off from what her illusion had portrayed either, as far as he could tell.

"Why mess with perfection? The gods know it worked on me." he thought wryly.

He made these observations almost dispassionately now. With the magic gone, and his body in considerable pain, he had immense clarity. He didn't even hesitate as he tossed the amulet's chain over Tanie's head and neck, and took a few steps back.

The amulet itself was unassuming, built to last, and not to dazzle. It was a simple circle of hardened steel, with the various runes and symbols required for the spell etched into it. When the world inevitably ended in magical radiation and fire, mutated rats would find these amulets, and accidentally tell their rat friends what they truly thought of the rat ladies they were seeing. It would be chaos.