This is the continuing story of the Succubi called Storm Clouds…
Moving on with Tom and… well.. you’ll see soon enough…
Storm Clouds 120
“Step back, Camilla. I can’t let you hurt her.”
The answer to that came in a cruel smile and the words, “I haven’t hurt her yet, Dick. Oh, she wants it and loves it, though. She has a fantasy of having her ass whipped until she can’t sit down for a week. You know that dream makes her dripping wet every night?”
Tom watched as Camilla, in Ginger’s form, raised her right hand toward the ceiling and a long black riding crop appeared there.
“Camilla, stop. Think about what you’re doing. This isn’t you.”
“Oh, but it’s her.”
The whip came down hard on Ginger’s rear and a long red mark was left behind … but Ginger herself didn’t say a word. Not one. Tom was, to be blunt, uncomfortable with all of this. The sex part of it didn’t bother him, but the abuse? That was going against what he believed in.
“You’re going to have to stop, Camilla.”
“No. This is what she wants, Dick. Not what I want or you want. Now, go and have a drink from the office bar or read a paper or watch, or wait outside. I don’t care because she doesn’t. All she knows is that the one person she can submit to is debasing her and making her be the person she is inside. A meek little fucktoy that needs a firm hand to guide her.”
Tom wasn’t buying it and he moved towards Camilla, “Sorry, but you aren’t going to do this.” Tom didn’t want to pull his gun and use it on her. That was a last ditch resort as far as he was concerned. He closed the distance and then took hold of Camilla’s wrist, stopping her from using the whip again.
She looked up at him and her eyes glowed green, “Thomas, please trust me on this. This is the fastest way to get what we need from her. Don’t interfere with what you see.”
Tom’s grip became a little firmer, “Abusing people is wrong, Camilla.”
“It is. But then she isn’t a person right now, and so she doesn’t qualify. Would you like to hear it from her own lips? Would that make it acceptable, then?”
Ginger’s voice was wrapped in need as she begged, “Slut has been a bad girl. She needs to be punished. Mistress has to punish Slut.”
“That makes it worse.”
Camilla’s tail wrapped itself around Ginger’s neck and tugged her close to one side, pushing Tom slightly as she moved. She took hold of Ginger’s hair again and pulled her face to look up at her, “Good Slut. You can lick my shoes.”
There was no delay from when Camilla let go to when Ginger was on her hands and knees doing exactly that and mewling in pleasure from it.
Tom’s disgust with the whole situation came to a boil, and he shoved Camilla’s hand away from him. He turned away from the scene and moved towards the door, pausing there as he gripped the door handle, “Tell me something, Camilla. Is this what Succubi do? Hurt and harm others? Are you going to suck away her soul next and kill her?”
To his surprise Camilla answered that with, “There is a difference between what you see and what there is, Tom. Look back.”
He did, and he saw Camilla as he had always known her, sitting on the chair, but with Ginger still on the floor in front of her degrading herself. Camilla’s tail was wrapped around Ginger’s neck directing her movements.
“If someone gave you your heart’s desire, wouldn’t you take advantage of it? This is what she wants, Thomas, and neither you nor I have the right to judge her. She needs this, has needed it for some time now. She’ll gladly answer anything for this to happen without hesitation.”
“I don’t like this, Camilla. Tell me something: do you like it?”
Camilla didn’t hesitate, “No. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Some sacrifices have to be made to get the answers we need.”
Then the scene shifted again to what it had been moments before, a slave grovelling at the feet of a cruel Mistress.
“Get the point, Dick?”
Tom nodded slightly–“Still doesn’t mean that I have to like it”–and left the office, shutting the door behind him.
Camilla was silent for a time after Tom left. It was difficult to explain the world that she lived in to humans. Tom had managed to accept most of it, but this part of being a Succubi or an Incubi, the part of it where realities shifted and sometimes not for the best, was a problem. The problem in carrying it out came in getting too involved in the fantasy and having that stay with you when the moment was gone. Camilla knew already that she was going to feel dirty after it was all over, but she tempered that disgust with the knowledge that it might, just might, get her the answers she needed.
She rubbed her free hand over the mark on Ginger’s ass, “Now, you worthless slut, you will answer every one of the questions asked. For every one you answer truthfully, I will reward you with another cropping that you need so badly … And, if you are very good, I’ll let you finally cum like the needful cunt you are.”
Her hand came down hard, “Understood?”
The answer was just above a whisper and was filled with need: “Yesssss, Missstresss.”
Camila held the crop in the air and began asking her questions.
“What do you know of the Succubi?“
“They are what is wanted.”
Camilla paused at that answer. It didn’t sound like something that Ginger would say on her own, which was troubling. She took the crop and placed it lengthwise against Ginger’s folds, pressing it against the flesh, “Wanted for what, slut?”
“To be claimed again by those they no longer serve.”
It took a great deal of control for her not to grab Ginger by her collar, and she managed in a curt voice, “Who wants them?”
Ginger didn’t respond to that. Camilla placed one hand against Ginger’s cheek, a green glow appearing there and moments later Ginger began to shake and mewl, but didn’t speak. Camilla’s fingers stroked slowly, “Slut… I am going to take you to the edge of cumming. Your pussy is going to ache and your mind is going to splinter apart piece by piece until you answer my question. The sooner you do, the better it will be for you … Otherwise, I am going to leave you a mindless shell here on the floor and then, oh then I’m going to find Mary Ann and do the same thing to her, slut.”
The answer was barely a whisper, one that Camilla would have missed save for the ragged breath that was taken before the words came out.
“Please. Mistress doesn’t know why.”
Camilla drew the crop up and down as she tried to make sense of what had been said. Mistress doesn’t know why? But at the moment, Camilla was the Mistress here, wasn’t she?
“Tell Mistress why she doesn’t know.”
“Mistress does what she is told to do, just like slut.”
The cold shiver of realization of what Ginger had been trying to say made her stand up and run for the door, leaving Ginger curled up in a ball on the floor, her fingers pumping frantically in and out of her sex trying to overcome the hold that Camilla had over her.
To Camilla’s horror she heard the sound of a gunshot outside the door and went into a panic. She shifted back into her normal form, save for her horns and tail, which still were visible as she drew open the door and shouted, “Thomas!”
Moments before, Tom had left the office and closed the door behind him. It really bothered him how Camilla could do this. He supposed that most of his misgivings were because he was very old school in his thinking about relationships and sex. It had always been his belief that you found the right person for the right reasons, acted honourably, loved them, married them and then were happy together.
He didn’t understand why people would want to suffer or be abused by others. It just didn’t make sense when he first heard of it and today … well, that hadn’t changed all that much.
He looked over to where Mary Ann sat at her desk typing away at a computer there. Ignoring her, he moved towards the leather chairs and sofa on the far side of the room, hoping to find a magazine that didn’t have artificially enhanced women on the cover but did have some real articles within the pages. Looking at the table there, he sighed a bit as, of course, the only things to be seen were the current and past issues of the company’s flagship magazine, and nothing more.
Giving up on that idea, he dropped into a chair facing the office he just left and looked over the lobby. Lots of mirrors around–probably for Ginger to preen in, he thought. The doors through which the goons had left were closed … and Mary Ann … she was suddenly standing to the right of him in that stupid schoolgirl outfit, a slightly vapid smile on her lips.
“Hello Mary Ann.”
“Hiya, ‘tective! You need something while you’re waitin’?”
“No, thanks. Nothing here that interests me.”
She had a hurt look for a moment and then traced a finger over the curves of her breasts that showed over the top of the white shirt that she was wearing, “Nothin’? Nothing at all?”
Tom closed his eyes and sighed, “Nope. You have nothing that I’m interested in.”
To his surprise, Mary Ann patted his hand, “Wells, if ya want something, let me know, okay?”
He didn’t open his eyes, but instead tried to make sense of everything that had happened so far: thoughts of possible reasons, ideas of who was on the list next. But then, for some reason, his thoughts turned to his past and the one woman he had ever truly loved. He found the image of her forming so very clearly in his thoughts; he could see her, almost smell her perfume …
Sitting up, he coughed for a moment, and then heard a voice …
“Are you having allergies again, Thomas?”
That voice. Tom opened his eyes and saw standing there a woman with pixie-cut brunette hair with some blonde in it, a button nose, the pink lips he remembered so very well, wearing a black off-the-shoulder dress, and he heard the voice that he thought was gone forever.
“Hi, Thomas …”
It was her. Beth. And all of the feelings that he had kept bottled up inside for so long started seeping up again. He asked in a hurt tone, “How?”
“It doesn’t matter Thomas. I’m here now and that’s all that matters isn’t it?”
Tom found that it did matter, more than anything he had cared about in a long time. He got out of the chair and smiled almost stupidly, “Of course. I’ve missed you honey…”
“I’ve missed you too Thomas.”
Her hands moved to straighten his collar, “You look good. Been looking after yourself?”
“No. Been missing you and… why did you have to go?”
“I’m here now, so you can forget about that can’t you?”
Tom felt a little fuzzy then, like his thoughts were’t connecting properly, like there was something that he should be remembering about Beth and couldn’t make that connection in his mind. All he could do was listen to her voice and nod on occasion to her words.
“Why don’t you tell me what you are doing here Thomas. Why are you and Camilla here?”
Tom’s eyes widened as he held her close and he realized something. Beth couldn’t possibly know who Camilla was, she couldn’t possibly be here. That meant… this wasn’t Beth.
His thoughts cleared enough for him to ask as he looked at her again, “How do you know Camilla?”
There was a look of confusion from her, “You introduced us? Remember? I’ve known her for years!”
That shook him from the stupor he was in and he turned away from her, “You’re not making any sense Beth. Something’s wrong.”
She spun him back around to face her, her voice becoming more insistent, “You. Introduced. Us. Thomas.”
A wave of nausea came over him with her words and he closed his eyes to get that under control. The nausea went away and he found that his thoughts cleared, making him remember something. She was wearing black. Beth never wore black. It was the colour she had hated more than anything else in the world. She’s rather go naked than wear black she had once told him… and she never called him Thomas. Not ever. She didn’t like the formality of it she told him. He would forever be Tom to her. That snapped him clear of her hold over him and he acted out of instinct. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her down onto the floor, straddling her and pinning her there in the next moment. The anger pushed everything from his mind about Beth and he thought clearly at last.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Beth! Can’t you see Thomas?”
He pulled his gun from its holster and placed the barrel against her throat, “You look like her. You aren’t. She only wore yellow. You’re wearing black. She called me Tom. You’re calling me Thomas. And she never met my partner. You’re a poor copy of her, should have realized that when you first appeared. What the hell are you? Show me or I swear I’ll put a bullet in you.”
Beth, no, this poor copy of her, continued to struggle, the fear on her face evident and then, to Tom’s surprise, she smiled. Then Beth’s smile was gone and an evil grin had replaced it. And behind that grin was Mary Ann struggling to free herself from where he had her trapped.
“You fuck! I’ll tear your heart out and eat it!”
Tom had figured out by now that she was something not human. This only made him angrier than he had been. He had foolishly assumed that there was some kind of honour among those that weren’t human. Whatever Mary Ann was, she didn’t have any. The next thought was of Camilla and her promise to him. Not to pry into his life, to let him make his own decisions. He realized that it wasn’t just a promise, it meant something to her.
He found that it meant something to him as well.
“You are so dead cop! They’ll never find your body when I’m finished with you!”
His thumb pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Let’s see how you do with a bullet in you.” He moved the barrel from her neck, and pulled the trigger leaving a clean hole in the floor beside her right ear and it bleeding where the bullet grazed her. The look of shock in her eyes that accompanied the sound of the shot echoing in the office gave Tom some satisfaction.
Whatever she was, she could be killed by a gunshot it seemed.
He put the barrel against her throat again, “Talk or the next one is going to make it hard for you to breathe.”
“Bastard! I’ll rip you apart!”
He heard Camilla’s voice behind him, “Thomas!”
He took a quick look. Camilla was standing there in a panic. He found that comforting somehow, “Camilla. Get over here and help me before I kill this… thing.”
She ran towards Tom trying to hide the fear that had been in her eyes when she burst through the office doors and thanked the stars that Tom was still alright.