The Succubae Seduction Ch. 18-19byDBs_Bro©
Wait, is this even right? Is this the same story? Well, the characters seem to be generally the same. Where has Marchosias sent Lyden, and why can't he remember anything of his real life? He'll have to step up his game, if he's going to be able to protect his friends.
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A Land of Fantasy: Part 1
My eyes are slow to open, my head feeling full of cotton. Groggily I look up, seeing a partly cloudy sky above me, and find that I'm lying in a field of what appears to be wheat.
"How did I get here?" I mumble, sitting up and holding my head in my hands. The last few moments come to me as though through a haze. Did I piss someone off? Why do I feel as if I'd been so afraid? Ugh, I just can't seem to focus.
Gaining my feet, I check over myself, verifying my armor and sword are in place.
Wait. . . . Armor and a sword? Why doesn't that seem right. . .? My head hurts, and I decide to worry about that at another time. I know it's important, but I can't seem to care enough. I must have gotten really drunk last night, I decide. But then, how did I end up out here in the middle of nowhere?
The joints of my supple jerkin, made of thick brown leather, seem to be in order. My blade, Muramasa, feels tight in his sheath. Gently, I pull up on the hilt, clearing only a small portion of the chrome-like slightly curved blade. There is no mistaking the bloodthirsty feel of the blade, and I immediately shove him back home.
Shaking myself to get rid of the rotten feeling, I wish I could just leave the blade behind. Every time I've tried, however, I find it attached to my hip a little while later. The katana only stays off me when he knows I intend to put him back on later.
Shielding my eyes against the midday sun, I look off into the distance. Every direction looks the same, until I spot a small shack to the east.
Whatever happened to me seems to still be affecting me, as I trip over my own sword a few times before I can keep my feet under me. By the time I reach the shack however, I'm walking as if I've always had the sword on my hip. I still can't remember my past, other than that my sword is dangerous, and that I'm a wanderer. Well, all swords are dangerous, and right now I'm wondering where the hell I am.
Of course I've always had a sword on my hip. Why does everything seem so odd, as though my entire life is somehow skewed?
"What can I do for you, Stranger?" a gray haired man asks, coming around the side of the shack, an axe in his hands. He looks very tired, bags thick under his eyes, and a slump to his shoulders that bespeaks many weary years of life.
"Thomas?" I ask, thinking the man looks familiar, but the moment is gone before I can grasp it.
"Eh?" he looks at me in confusion. "How'd you know my name?" He hefts the axe again, a little more menacingly. I know he's no match for Muramasa and me, but I don't feel like feeding my sword.
"Sorry," I tell the wary man, raising my hands in front of me to show I mean no harm. "Just something that crossed my mind." My stomach growls, and I have no idea how long it's been since last I ate. "Say, you wouldn't have any work I could do for you in return for a bit of food, do you?"
He squints as he looks sharply at me, trying to decide if I'm a threat to him or not. I am, of course, but I try to act as if I'm not.
Finally he grunts before giving me an answer. "You look like a nice strong lad. I don't know why, but I feel as though I can trust you." He moves the axe to his shoulder, and I can see that it's rather dull. Kind of like the old man, I think, but don't know where that thought came from. "I've got some wheat that needs to be culled, and since the Lord of Light saw fit to give me a rebellious daughter, instead of a hardy son, I could use your help." He eyes Muramasa on my hip, and I can already see the wheels turning.
"I'm afraid my blade isn't fit for cutting wheat, but if you have a scythe I could borrow, I'll see what I can do with that," I tell him, before he can ask. He wouldn't like the consequences if I pulled my blade out.
He grunts again, and nods his head to the back of the shack. Heading back, I find a rusted scythe, and sigh. This is going to be a lot of work.
The farmer has to teach me how to properly use the blade, but I catch on quickly enough, and get lost in the work.
"Ho!" Thomas yells, thankfully pulling me from my thoughts. I'd been daydreaming about a strange orange carriage, winged women, and odd-looking houses. "Come, sit." He shows me a plate of food, and I drop the scythe where I'm at, rushing to him.
It's probably poisoned, a voice says in my head, but I ignore it. Muramasa is always paranoid.
The food is simple fair, roots soaked in a simple broth, but as famished as I am I devour it quickly.
"You do good work," Thomas says, as he surveys his field. "Would you consider staying on? I don't have much, but I get by, and I can promise you'll never go hungry."
I laugh lightly, patting the hilt of Muramasa. The older man tenses at the gesture, but relaxes when I speak. "I'm afraid I have a different destiny," I tell him. "Maybe when I'm done with that, I'll come back. There are worse ways to retire, than with a good honest job."
"A destiny, huh?" he asks me. "I don't put much stock in those."
Kill him! Kill him now! I thump the hilt, willing Muramasa to shut up.
"Normally I'd agree with you," I say, laughing to cover the action with the blade, "but I feel as if I have little choice."
"Thomas!" someone yells in a panic, and we both stand to look in the direction the voice had come from. I realize my right hand is tightly wrapped around Muramasa's hilt, and make a conscious effort to loosen my fingers. "Your daughter's been kidnapped!"
The old farmer begins to curse in earnest, spitting on the ground, before turning to the young boy that comes running up to us. "Who took her, Isaak?"
For some weird reason, I can't seem to make out any features on the boy's face. It's not that he doesn't have one, just that I can't seem to see it.
"I don't know, Thomas," the young faceless boy states, trying to catch his breath. "He must have been some lord, though, because he was dressed all fancy, and had a couple guards. He took your daughter from the inn and rode off with her on a large black stallion."
The older man looks sharply at the boy. "Go home Isaak. Thank you for telling me." He turns the boy around, and gives him a gentle shove.
"Are you going to go get her, Thomas? I know she can be annoying sometimes, but she always treated me well enough." There is genuine interest in the boys tone before he leaves.
"Go home, Isaak," the farmer repeats firmly, and the boy takes off running.
"I don't suppose you know how to use that blade on your hip, stranger?" he asks me, looking off in the direction the boy had come from.
"Well enough, I suppose," I tell him, and he only grunts in response. I truly hope I don't have occasion to use the cursed blade.
He goes into his small shack, and returns a few moments later with a well-polished breastplate on, and a short sword on his hip. He looks at me self-consciously. "Don't know why I kept these. Couldn't part with them after the war, I guess. Too many memories."
"Lead on," I tell him, not truly interested in his past. "Did you let your wife know we were going?" I'm not sure why I asked that, but it seems appropriate now.
He gives me a calculating stare before answering. "You think if I had a wife, my daughter would act the way she does? No, my old lady died years ago." He clams up, and doesn't say another word the entire trip into town.
I'm tempted to point out that I have no idea what his daughter is like, but decide the comment isn't worth the time.
The town, if it can be called that, is nothing more than a group of ramshackle buildings, huddling together for safety.
Thomas stops in front of a building that stands bigger than the rest. On a pole is a wooden board with two images on it. The first is of someone sleeping in a bed, stylized 'z's floating over his head. The second image portrays the same man in bed, but this time there is a well-endowed woman riding him, a drink in her hand.
"Your daughter was at a brothel?" I ask, wondering what type of woman we're going to save.
"It's not what you think, young man," he tells me irritably. "She just likes to visit."
Uh-huh, I think, but keep the thought to myself.
"Listen, Stranger, me and the innkeeper kind of have a history, and it ain't so great. You mind going in, and seeing what you can find out?" The way he says that, tells me he's a bit embarrassed about whatever their past is.
Walking through the door, I'm hit in the face with the scents of heavy drink and unwashed bodies.
"What can I do you for, Traveler?" a solicitous voice says behind me. Spinning, ready for an attack, I have to consciously relax, when I see a woman in a low-cut blouse to emphasize her décolletage, and long curly blonde hair. From her demeanor, I know she's no threat, despite what my blade tries to tell me. As with the young boy, I can't seem to make out her face. I know this should bother me, but my head starts to hurt again, and I drop it for now.
"I've got this one, Mara," another voice pipes in, and this time I can see the woman's face, though that's not the most startling aspect to her. She's wearing tight black leather, which matches the shade of her black hair perfectly. Stiletto shoes give her some added height, and in her right hand is a coiled whip.
"Yes, Mistress," Mara bows to the other woman, and scuttles away.
"I'm just looking for the innkeeper," I tell the other women, slightly afraid of her.
She laughs almost wickedly before answering, "You're in luck then, for you've found her." She taps the coiled whip against her left hand as she ponders me. "You look like you can handle quite a bit." Her brown eyes regard me hungrily, and I even see her lick her lips.
"Um, thanks," I reply hesitantly, "but I need to find where they took the farmer's daughter." Since Thomas had said he had some sort of history with this woman, I'm trying to be careful and not drop his name. Although, now that I think on it, as small as this town is, she likely knows whose daughter I'm talking about anyway.
Her eyebrows knit together in scorn as she says, "You mean Thomas's little chit? Ha! She could make a fortune working for me, but all she does is tease my customer's, never really giving in to their demands. I guess my girls get some benefit from her being here, turning on our patrons, and allowing my girls to charge a little more. Her father couldn't satisfy, though. Ha! He tried and tried, and I'll give him points for stamina, but in the end . . . nothing." Her dark eyes examine me again, taking in my leather armor and sword, and I see the hunger enter her eyes again. "Maybe you can satisfy me? If so, you'll be the second."
"I really just—" I try to stop her, but she cuts me off.
"Satisfy me, Traveler, and I'll tell you what you want to know. Otherwise the lord that took her will be having virgin tonight." She grabs the front of my jerkin, and tries to pull me into a kiss, but my arms move faster, gripping her wrist, and spinning her about. Her body presses back into me, and she moans, our leather clothing rubbing together as she gyrates her hips.
Well, it's not as though it'll be a real hardship, I think, feeling her slender body in my arms. I shove her away a little harder than I need to, and she stumbles before me. She recovers quickly enough, and turns, ready to strike me with her whip.
The leathery tip whistles my way, and I somehow catch it before it strikes my face.
Kill her! Kill her while you still can! Let me taste her.
Shut up, I mentally command Muramasa. I'll stab her with a different sword.
"How dare you treat me like this," the innkeeper cries out, trying to yank her whip out of my hand.
Her strength is a lot less than mine is, and I yank her to me, using her own weapon. I catch her as she stumbles, and this time it's me that pulls her into a kiss. She remains frozen for a second, before thawing slightly, and I feel her lips part to allow my tongue in.
Pulling back, I watch as she blinks in confusion. I use her distraction to yank the whip entirely out of her hands. While she's off balance, I use her own weapon against her and tie her up.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demands of me, anger smoldering in her brown eyes.
Looking around the room, I see a number of faceless people watching us. I feel the grin split my face before I consciously will it. She looks around the room as well, and I see panic enter her eyes.
"I think I'm going to get that information out of you," I tell her cheerfully.
"No! Not out here in front of everyone. What I do, I do in private." She tries to fight against her bonds, but it's useless. The leather of the whip refuses to budge against the leather of her costume.
Pulling her over to a counter, I find a small knife sitting on the other side. Gripping it, I brandish it before her fearful eyes, before slipping it into a fold of her leather bellow where the whip is holding her captive, and start cutting.
"No! You can't do this! I am the mistress here. I won't be treated like this in my own place." I turn her around as I continue to cut through her leather. The knife is sharp enough, but the leather is also sturdy, and it takes me a few moments to cut it away. I'm surprised at how little she's really struggling, despite her words. Dropping the knife, I'm able to pull down the bottom half of her costume, and can smell her arousal.
Standing back up, I release the end of her whip and undo my trousers, letting them fall to my ankles with a clatter as Muramasa strikes the wood floor. I only step out with one leg, before bending her over the counter.
"Don't you dare!" she cries out, belying her body's reaction to my rough treatment. "Not out here!"
Pulling back my hand, I bring it down hard on her rump, making her cry out, and leaving a red handprint behind.
"You wanted me to satisfy you," I whisper in her ear, leaning over her body and nestling my cock between her cheeks. "Now just shut up and take it."
"No," she cries again, and I can hear the tears in her voice. "Not out here! Everyone will see! At least take me back to one of the rooms."
Grabbing the base of my cock, I begin to rub it up and down along her nearly dripping slit. She jumps at the first contact between our genitals, and I actually hear a slight whimper escape her throat.
"Mistress," I hear Mara's slight voice say close by, "do you want me to stop him?"
Wasting no more time, I drive my hips forward, impaling her cunt with my pole. Her head flips back, and I see her mouth forming a large 'O'.
"Mistress?" Mara repeats, and the innkeeper just glares at the faceless woman until she backs away.
Taking another glance around the room, I see that we have everyone's attention. A few faceless patrons even have their pricks out, stroking them to the beat of me slipping into this domineering woman.
"How dare you fuck me in front of everyone!" she yells back at me as I slip in and out of her tight cunt, but I can feel her start to move in time with my thrusts. "This is my job! I'm, ungh, the boss here. I, uh, make the rules. Oh God! You will not make me cum in front of . . . in front of . . . in. . . . Oh shit!"
Her pussy grips my phallus hard as her body shudders in the throes of passion. Apparently the thought of everyone watching her is enough to send her over the edge.
I feel renewed with vigor at the thought of being able to get this woman off. She'd said I was only the second, and I can't feel too jealous about whoever the other person was.
I wait for her to finish shuddering, before I pull out, and aim for her other hole.
"Wait! No, you can't. I charge extra for that. You can't—ungh." She drops her head to the countertop, as I slip inch after inch of my meat into her anus, relishing the feeling of her tight sphincter slowly sliding up my rod. "No, no, no. . . ." she says repeatedly; until I land a slapping blow on her other cheek. Making her jump, and her anus tighten deliciously on my cock.
"You're going to be a good little girl, and tell me what I want to know, aren't you," I don't ask, but state.
She nods her head, but that's not good enough for me. Reaching forward, I grip the back of the collar of her top with my right hand, and a handful of her dark hair with the other. Pulling back on both, I stand her upright, enjoying the new angle this causes her colon to take around my schlong. "Say it," I command her, and then have to stifle a moan as my command makes her colon tighten as she has a minor orgasm.
"Yes," she gasps, and I realize I'm choking her with her own top by pulling back on it. I don't let up.
"Louder," I command her, pulling my hips back, and slamming them forward, pounding into her ass to emphasize my desire.
"Yes, Master!" she tries to scream. I loosen my grip on her collar, but pull back more on her hair.
"Where did they go?" I ask my obedient slave.
Reaching around her body, I somehow already know that her pussy is bald, and easily find her clit. I place my finger against it, but don't move it, or apply pressure while I wait for her answer.
"They . . . they went north, Master," she says around moans, trying to move her cunt against my hand.
"Good girl," I whisper, nipping lightly at her ear. "You can cum now," I give her permission, as I pinch her clitoris between two fingers.
Her wail of pleasure rebounds off the walls, and I see some of her patrons start to fire off their seed as they cum too. Her rear clamps down hard on my tool, and I'm soon firing off into her colon, grunting with each spurt.
I pull out of her ass, and realize there is still one final step to her conversion. "Get on your knees and clean my cock," I command her, as I loosen the whip still bound tightly around her torso.
She doesn't even hesitate, before dropping to her knees in front of me, gripping my softening cock, and starts cleaning it with her mouth. I notice that it is clean of anything untoward, before it disappears between her lips.
I can feel her tongue swirling around the tip of my over-sensitized phallus, and decide to pull out of her mouth. Leaning over, I grip her cheeks in my hand, and stare into her brown eyes. Not a trace of defiance is left, only complete submission. "That was very good, innkeeper. Now I want you to finish off any other patrons that haven't gotten off to our little show."
"Sheila, master," she says quietly. "My name is Sheila. Will you ever come back?"
Pulling up my trousers, I turn and walk out, without giving her an answer, but something about her name tickles the back of my mind. What is it about her that—my mind grows thick with fog again, and I dismiss it.
A young woman bumps into me as I try to leave. "I'm sorry, mister," she mumbles an apology, and I feel her hand at my waist. Gripping her wrist, I pull it away, before she can draw Muramasa.
"You don't want to do that," I growl at her, looking down into a young face framed by brown hair. Two blue eyes refuse to meet mine.
"Help!" the girl screams. "Rape!"
"Ha, ha," a faceless male patron behind me scoffs at her. "We already know his worth. And the rest of us know your thieving ways, Ondy. It's about time someone caught you."
Without releasing her wrist, I drag her out of the brothel.
"Did she tell you?" the older farmer asks as I walk out, ignoring the struggling girl in my grasp. "I heard some yelling in there. Did you have to get rough?"