tagNonHumanThe Squire and the Succubus Ch. 01

The Squire and the Succubus Ch. 01


Author's Note: In case the math escapes you, no one in this story is under the age of 18. That might sound snarky, but it actually may trip you up. I know I had to check twice to make sure I hadn't written it wrong.


Sam plunged her fingers into her sex, her head ducking forward as she tried to get some release, her thumb rubbing her clit as she panted softly. Her mind didn't have an image in it -- just a vague sense. A need. A desire. She bit her wrist gently to try and keep from making any noise beyond the soft slick sound of her fingers.

"Samuel? I say! Samuel! Come to my side fordwidth! Adventure awaits!"

Sam jerked her head back, her jaw clenching as she glared at the sky. Her back pressed to a tree and she hurriedly slid her fingers from her sex, wiping them off against the bark of the tree. She heard the soft clink of armor and the rattle of mail. She had gotten her pants up before Sir Albus Marrik von Markenzhota Delacroix the White Knight (hero of the peasantry and savior of the Realm of Albeket) came around the tree to find her leaning against it, her tabard put back into place.

"Samuel!" Sir Albus snapped, his hand going to the conical nose of his helmet, shoving the front piece back and upwards, allowing his flint gray eyes to glare out from the circular visor. His eyebrows were large and bushy and drew together as he scowled at his squire. "What are you doing here? You should be sharp-ing my sword, you idiot manchild."

"Well-" Sam coughed, then pithced her voice lower, trying to sound like a man as she adjusted her tabard with her hands. "I, uh, was...praying! To, uh the...to God!" She nodded. "T-To keep myself pure and, uh chaste."

"Hmm, yes, very goodily," Sir Albus said, nodding -- his head motion causing the helmet to clunk back into place. "It is important for a lad your age to be careful. At such an age, the desire to slate your lusts with passing peasant women can be undelictable."

Sam's brow furrowed. She opened her mouth -- about to ask Sir Albus how old he thought she was. Then she closed her mouth and nodded. The less she spoke, the less chances were she'd give anything away. When this plan had started, it had seemed to be a fine one. What better way to prove to her father that girls could be warriors than to prove herself alongside the greatest warrior and hero in the entire realm?

There were just a few minor hiccups.

"Now, come come!" Sir Albus said, drawing his sword and aiming it eastward. "We have but once more week until we shall arrive at the sea."

"And then, sir?" Sam asked, trying to sound gruff as she walked to the side of his unicorn, helping her master onto the back of the beast with some shoving, grunting, groaning and sweating. Once he was in place, he started to ride along. The unicorn blew out a long suffering sigh -- his horn glinting as he copped forward, the magical bridle and bit that kept the unicorn under control glowing faintly in the morning sun.

"Why, we shall see when we get there," Sir Albus said, nodding, his helmet rattling slightly.

They walked for some time. Once Albus was no longer paying mind to anything but the sound of his own voice -- instructing Sam in the arts of swordslingery and questdom -- Sam glanced at the unicorn and thought to herself: Well, at least you're suffering too.

Yes, I am.

The voice that spoke in her head was deep, masculine, and sounded rather annoyed with the world. Sam stood stock still, her eyes wide as she gaped at the unicorn -- which continued to walk forward, Albus speaking to nothing for a few moments: "And then, once one has reached the apex of the swingism, be certain, you shall need to forthwide the leftwang!"

Sam shook her head, shivered all over, then ran forward to catch up, her shoes crunching on the ground. Okay, she thought, biting her lip. N-Now you've gone so mad with lust you're hearing things. Unicorns can't talk.

And squires can't get laid, apparently. That same, deep, rich voice spoke inside of her head. This time, Sam squeaked.

"Hmm?" Sir Albus looked down at her. "Listen, Samuel, if you don't know how to best disemberate enemies, you will one day be more fith than width!"

"R-Right! Sorry sir!" Sam said, her cheeks bright red, accentuating the freckles that spread underneath her green eyes. She nodded. "P-Please, uh, continue."

Sir Albus leaned back in his seat and continued to pontificate on the fine art of poleaxing.

Once she was sure that he was entirely distracted, Sam glanced at the unicorn again. Her eyes met the warm, black eye that looked at her from the side of the creature's head. His horn glowed and she heard his voice again: Are you going to freak the fuck out again, girl?

N-Nooo, she thought, her hands sliding forward along her belly, interlacing her fingers to keep them from clenching into fists. She tried to look completely normal as she watched the road ahead of her. Carefully, she thought: I, uh, didn't know you could talk.

You never asked, he said, sounding annoyed. His ear twitched. My name is Harp.

Harp? She asked. That's an odd name for a man.

Oh, and Sam is such an ordinary girl's name? He snapped.

She flushed. It's Samantha.

Ah, well, there you have it, he sent back, his tail twitching from side to side.

"And then I locked blades with the villainous...Baron. Baron Munchausen, yes..." Albus muttered, pushing his knuckles against his palm, twisting his fist and his palm together with a faint creaking, grinding noise.

So, the unicorn said, his voice blunt. You do know I can smell how wet you are from here?

Sam turned bright red, then glared at him. D-Do you have ANY manners!? She thought, her voice intensely offended. She looked down at the road, trying to focus on it and not the ache that still tingled between her thighs. But having her...conditioned referenced -- even by a freaking horse, horn or no horn, it was still a horse -- seemed to have only accentuated the feelings coursing through her. Her skin tingled and her nipples started to become hard little nubs. Aching to be touched. Her mind went slightly hazy and she imagined a pair of lips closing around one of her nipples. A tiny tongue would dart around and around her nip -- tracing the pale pink of her areola. A finger would slide into her cunt and-

Sam walked into a tree.

She shook her head and staggered backwards, her butt hitting the ground. Her master continued to ride forward, speaking to the air: "But then, before I knew it, we were laying the same lass in the tavern! What an oddly trepententious situality!"

Sam rubbed her nose, looking at the blood that oozed from one of her nostrils, and then shook her head -- her mind still ringing with the hard smack of bark against her face. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted to catch up to the unicorn and her oblivious mentor. He looked down at her with a beatific smile as she sniffed and sniffed and sniffed again.

"I can see my tragidious tale has left you in tears," he said, nodding. "Fear not -- it ended happily. For we did not, in the end, have to marry one another."

Sam sniffed harder to try and keep blood from dripping into her mouth. "V-Very happy, sir."

"Now, where was I-" Albus rubbed his chin -- or at least, he tried, for his helmet visor was still down. Fortunately, the confusion this caused and the five minutes of his hands pushing his helmet around to try and get it to lay straight again gave Sam ample time to find some cloth to jam up her nose. Once she had done so, Albus finally took his helmet off rather than continue to deal with it. He blinked down at her -- then started.

"My god!" he said. "A mustache!"

He pointed at Sam's face.

Sam put her fingers up to her nose -- feeling the faint feathery caress of the cloth sticking out of her left nostril. "I...oh, uh, yes," she said, coughing. "Y-Your story was, uh, so manly. It...made me grow a mustache."

"For a lad of merely fourteen?" Albus looked impressed. "Why, you did listen to my edifitorations!"

Sam bit her lip, hard.

She had been a 'lad of merely fourteen' for five years now.


When they came to the beach, Sir Albus Marrik von Markenzhota Delacroix the White Knight (hero of the peasantry and savior of the Realm of Albeket) slipped off his unicorn mount, laid down, and went to sleep with a muttered order to Sam that could have been interpreted to mean anything from 'go fetch me a wineskin' to 'slay yourself and bring about the end of days.' As he lay on his back, his armor still gleaming around him, Sam sighed and quietly started to get to work. As his squire, she had a great deal of tasks that needed to be done before he woke. And as Albus tended to wake at odd and inconsistent times, this meant that she'd have to work fast if she had any chance at all to avoid another lecture.

She should start with his mount. She looked at him -- at the magical bridle, at the saddle, and at his eyes. He looked straight at her -- and she could no longer fool herself into thinking that he was some kind of animal.

"So," she said, quietly. "C-Can you speak out loud?"

Oh yes, of course I can, he thought to her. If I wasn't chained to a dunce.

Sam flushed. She glanced at the snoring Albus, then at the unicorn. He shook his head, sighing.

Take that thing out of your nose -- it looks absurd.

"Oh, uh-" she put her hand to her nose and yanked out the cloth. Blood dripped down her nose and into her lips and she spluttered with disgust.

Get your butt over here, Samantha, the unicorn said.

Sam started forward -- but before she had taken three steps, the unicorn added: And remember my name is Harp, not the unicorn.

She froze, her eyes wide. Y-You can hear my thoughts when I'm not thinking them at you?

Uhhhhhhhh-huh, he drawled, then stepped forward. His hooves clomped on the ground and he ducked his head forward, his horn bumping against the side of her head. She felt a warm glow suffuse her face and then the blood stopped flowing from her nose and the faint bruise she felt faded as well. She also felt a few dozen other minor aches and pains from her life as a wandering squire and sword sharpener for the most renowned knight of the kingdom fade as well. She felt as refreshed and rested as if she had spent a week in an elven broth...rest home. She was thinking of resting, not of riding a drow's cock until she passed out.

Or he passed out.


She could lick her way across those midnight black abs. She had seem a few Drow men -- they were so marvelously masculine compared to surface elves. Their underground life, even after the collapse of the Llothian Empire, was harsh and demanding compared to the idyllic life in the woodlands. She was sure they would prefer something gentler, but it made real manly men out of them and-

The horn bumped against her head -- bopping the top of her head and she started, blinking furiously. "W-What!?"

You're spacing out again, Harp said. How long has this been going on, Sam?

She blushed, shaking her head as she stepped over and started to unlace the saddle, careful to not touch the glowing magical bridle. "S-Since I was fifteen," she admitted. "So, uh, five years now."

Harp chuckled. Interesting. You know, puberty is normal for humans-

"This is not normal!" Sam hissed. "I was raised a good follower of the Lord of Abstinence. So, I channeled my unnatural urges-"

They're perfectly natural, Harp broke in.

Sam glared at him. "When I was sixteen, I had a very involved fantasy about being..." She blushed, mumbling. "A-About...with...the..." She trailed off. Then, ever so softly -- and with a delicious thrill that buzzed through her cunt like a bolt of gentle lightning -- she whispered: "Dogs. The palace dogs."


"And my brother," she mumbled. "Father. Priest. Mother. Sisters." She shook her head. "The nuns at the castle, the woman who taught me deportment, the five lizardmen slaves in the dungeon, the werewolf we hunted last month, a-and a-at least one dragon."

Well, to be fair, dragons are-

Sam yanked the saddle off the unicorn's back, laying it down on the ground with a sigh. "A white dragon. The stupidest, most animalistic dragon in the world and I still fantasized about it mounting me and..." she shivered. "Oh god, what is wrong with me?"

Uh- Harp seemed at a loss. But Sam -- well trained by wanting to avoid lectures from Albus -- started to rub him down. Her cloth wiped away the sweat that had collected on his flanks. AS she rubbed him down, she whispered.

"Is it because girls aren't supposed to be fighters?" she asked. "Is God punishing me?"

No, he said, with a great deal of sureness. I've known many female warriors.

Sam breathed out a slow sigh of relief. "G-Good. I thought that was the case, since, well, I mean-" She shook her head. "The feelings started before I decided to become a knight. H-Heck, hitting things with a wooden sword kinda helps me get rid of some of the tension. Then my training partners would strip off to go bathe and I'd make my excuses, then creep around and spy on them. Did you know Rudo was hung like a, well..." She trailed off, smiling slightly, her hand slipping down. She sighed, softly.

S-Sam... Harp said, his voice strained.

"Once, I was tempted to dress as a harlot a-and disguise my face. Then Rudo could fuck me," she purred. "He wouldn't know that I was the boy he thought of as his little brother as he mounted me in some capital city alleyway and-"

Don't stop... Harp hissed.

Sam blinked.

She realized that her hand was filled with something thick and hot and her head swam as she realized that her palm moved down to fondle a pair of large, heavy, ball-shaped objects contained in a kind of leathery sack. Sam's mind blanked out and she had no idea what she was touching or why. Then she jerked her hand back, squeaking as she did so. "I-I can't! Not with a horse! Not even if you took my virginity and filled me up with your hot spunk..."

Something is definitely wrong with you, Harp said.

Then, slowly, he turned his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. There was a gleam in his eye.

You know...if you take this bridle off me, I could help.

Sam blinked. Her eyes flicked down -- looking at the immense shape that hung between the unicorn's legs. Her whole body tingled and her tasks and duties were forgotten as she bit her lip, slowly. She looked at those warm eyes. She imagined moving under him- no. No. No no no no no!

I can change my shape. Harp's voice sounded dry.

Sam yanked the bridle off in a single motion, tugging the bit free. Harp shook his head -- a flowing, glowing white light surrounding his body. Sam stood there -- her mind reeling, part of her screeching at her. What had she done? What had she done? Then a warm hand cupped her cheek and she opened her mouth in shock as she looked at Harp. He had changed -- but also hadn't. His shoulders were broad and muscular, and he stood on the two legs now. He had hands rather than hooves, and his eyes were set side by side like that of a man. But his body was covered in the same short white fur. His head was shaped like that of a horse. And the cock that bumped against her belly was the same long, golden hued, flit tipped horse-dick that he had sported before.

His tail switched from side to side as he grinned at her.

"What do you think?"

His fingers caressed her cheek. His thumb slipped along her lip. Sam's mouth opened as her whole body burned with desire for him. Her heart hammered and despite every tiny gasp of her conscious mind, her soul knew this was right. She sucked on his thumb, gently, her teeth hooking on him gently. He tasted male. His thumb slipped deeper into her mouth, sliding along her tongue, as if he was testing how she could suck. There was something strangely clinical about it -- and yet, dominant. He was testing her, and she was passing with flying colors. From the smile on his face, he liked it.

"Mm," he murmured. "For all that training, you seem to be a natural at this."

Sam moaned happily around his thumb.

His finger slid back and he shook his head. "Come on. Get your ass naked. I've got years of humiliation to work out on you." He chuckled, softly.

"Wha..." she said -- sounding half drugged to her own ears. She shook her head, biting her lip as her fingers worked at the collar of her tabard, unlacing it as she gulped and whispered, quietly. "A-Albus-"

"Fuck him. Or, more accurately...fuck you." Strong hands grabbed onto her tabard and tore it aside, the last straps popping and freeing her chest. Sam squeaked as a single white finger hooked on the breastband that had tied her tits flat. It was tugged down and Harp laughed quietly. "Not sure why you bothered tying this down. Tiny titties." He grinned, flicking one of her nipples with his finger. He sounded brash and confident -- and, Sam was growing increasingly certain, insulting. She thought of how he had been used for years and figured she could understand why.

What she couldn't understand why was why his attitude turned her on more intensely than even seeing her father screwing the scullery maid.

"T-They're not that tiny," she stammered.

"You're basically a boy. But since I haven't busted a nut in years, you'll do," Harp said, casually, grinning as he shoved her onto the ground. Her knees hit sand and she squeaked -- then moaned as Harp started to grind his golden cock against her face. "You know -- I was planning to get you to take my bridle off just by playing the pity card...but that was before I realized you were hiding this secret." He chuckled. "Not sure what's wrong with you -- but it got me free and now it's going to get me a blowjob."

He grinned as his flat cocktip pressed to her mouth. Her lips opened before she had even thought it through, her tongue swirling out, pressing to the thin slit that rested in the center of his dick, tasting his warm maleness, the salty tang of his pre. Her hands reached up, stroking his dick as her knees settled into the sand. Her tongue swirled around and around, her eyes growing hooded.

"Or maybe a fucktoy," he said, quietly. "You are one amazing cockwhore, and you haven't even started."

Sam knew -- distantly -- she should be objecting.

Instead, she slid her mouth around the head of his cock and pushed herself forward. Her throat opened eagerly for his thick shaft, and as she pushed forward, she started to marvel at the feeling of his cock going deeper and deeper. She couldn't breath -- but the pressure against her, felt from the base of her throat to the back of her nose, brought her pleasure rather than panic. Her head sparked and she looked up into his eyes as her mouth touched against the base of his hips, his balls bumping against her chin.


There was no playful arrogance, no tint of humiliation or repercussion, no sign that for that moment, Harp the Unicorn was nothing but impressed.

He gaped down at her as Sam slid her mouth back with a slow, wet slurp, then gasped as his cock sprang free, her mouth gleaming with smeared pre-cum and some of her own spittle. She coughed, wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, then grinned weakly at him. "C-Can I keep doing that? Even if I have tiny tits?"

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