The Princess and the Succubus

But it didn't matter. Barb or no Barb, it was up to Arianthe to end His too-long reign. She had the means, and a clear head -- even if her body's betrayal of her was apparent to all. She ached to be touched, and didn't care by whom. Only her hate-fuelled determination kept her hands at her sides. She wanted to scream at Him, rage at Him, gut Him with her knife, but He was so strong! She would only have one chance to do it, if at all.

She needed Him close and unguarded. She needed Him to be sure of His victory over her.

He stood behind her, and she felt His breath warm against her neck as He bent to kiss her there. Her legs buckled and she fell to her knees, one hand diving between her legs to ease the pressure that was driving her mad.

"Look at her!" He yelled. "Look at this harlot who thought she would be Queen. I am but one victim of her whorish ambition. She would have had all of you bow before her and serve her insatiable lust." Angry murmurs rippled through the crowd. Every face she could see was tense with hatred, full of the promise of violence. "So it seems fair that you all should have share of her punishment."

That startled them. The crowd quieted in anticipation, and, with all eyes on Him, He dropped his trousers to the floor and stepped out of them. The cock that had ravished her repeatedly the day before stood proud. It was a thing of beauty, and while Arianthe supposed she hated its owner she wanted to feel that powerful shaft again.

She reached out to take it in her hand, to wrap her fingers about its warm hardness while she crawled nearer to it. She wanted to worship it with her mouth, caress it with her tongue, taste its salty flavour and drink again the bitter flow of His ultimate pleasure.

"When I am done," He shouted, "you will all have your turn."

But there was already something in her mouth, something that would hurt Him. She struggled to remember why exactly -- why she wanted to hurt Him. Something about His beautiful cock... What was it that Barb had said... A woman may wear a cock as well as a man.

Arianthe smiled. How much better it would be if it were Barb standing in front of her with this thing of wonder.

Whispering sorcery, she took the Pure Silver from her mouth, and cut the demonic flesh away from Him.

*

His scream was delicious, and was echoed by screams from the crowd. He reacted instinctively, lashing out at Arianthe with a powerful kick that sent her tumbling down the steps at the side of the gallows stage. The severed cock and balls flew from her hand and I dived after them, thrusting men and women aside in my haste.

Even as I picked up the bloody genitals from the ground, I heard Arianthe scream. I turned to see Him marching towards her with his sword unsheathed. Without stopping to think, I jumped up onto the stage and flung myself against him, sending him sprawling across the ground.

Arianthe's tattoos swirled about in my thoughts, confusing me, making me dizzy. I couldn't help her like this, but I couldn't look away. I was losing the battle for my soul. With my last shred of free will, I dug my sharp fingernails into her crotch, above the lips that glistened so seductively, and ignoring her scream of denial I planted the demon cock in the bloody flesh.

*

The pain was like nothing she had ever experienced. Her blood felt like it boiled, her skin felt like it burned, as if flames danced across it. The Pure Silver knife scorched the flesh of her hand and she flung it away.

Barb sat watching her with a calm expression, as if nothing remotely dangerous were happening. Behind her, He was back on His feet, sword in hand. The blood that had flooded out from Him as she cut had slowed now to a trickle, but the wound was a horrifying gash of bloody flesh.

He howled with rage and charged towards her and she scrambled backwards away from Him. "Help me!" she shouted at Barb who was watching with an air of indifference.

Immediately she leapt in front of Him, her fingers punching at His eyes, but He turned sideways and rammed into her with His shoulder, sending her staggering backwards, almost tripping over Arianthe. His sword swung for her neck but she ducked easily and kicked at His legs. He barely flinched, merely thrust at her again, only to miss as she stepped aside.

They were too well matched. Barb was lighter on her feet, but He was stronger. Neither seemed able to wound the other significantly. Meanwhile, around them, the guards were organising an attack, and one held the Pure Silver knife Arianthe had flung away.

The fire that had incapacitated her had cooled to gentle burn, except at the edges -- in her hair, and in the erect and bloody cock that thrust violently out from her crotch. She could feel its demonic power seeping through her veins, intense and intoxicating the way Barb's blood had been, but so much stronger.

She was so much stronger. Stronger than ever before. The unseen fire that licked her skin was nothing but uncontrolled sorcery, power awaiting purpose. With an almost negligent flick of her fingers, she sent it into the gallows and instantly they erupted into flame. The guards retreated hastily.

He was weakening. The source of His power was gone, and He was using the remnants of His strength too quickly. His face that had known only arrogance for a thousand years was now etched with pain and fatigue. Only His hatred kept Him fighting as the furnace raged ever more fiercely about Him.

Barb's expression was empty of emotion as her nails at last scratched the surface, and soon His face was a mess of bloody scars. He screamed defiance of her, and of the burning torture of His feet, but He was failing fast.

Arianthe ordered Barb to stop, and took the demon girl's hand in her own. "Let's get out of here."

*

I waited patiently for my Mistress to instruct me. Her questions were confusing when all I needed was simple orders. I liked her tattoos. Simple and direct.

And her kisses were nice. I liked it when she kissed me, though she always seemed disappointed with me.

And that word. Free. I didn't understand it, but I liked the sound of it.

Free.

One day she asked me my name, and I told her.

"Wake up, Talabarbria," she said. "Be free!"

And I woke up.