A story came to me and this will be part one, I think it will be three parts, possibly four, but we shall see…
Some citizens of the Realm find themselves in places and situations that they never expected to be in. But the thing is … in spite of such things, they are still of the Realm … and that is something that never changes …
Acceptance is not submission; it is acknowledgement of the facts of a situation, then deciding what you are going to do about it. So, what are you going to do?
Those words echoed through Sheryl’s thoughts for what seemed to be the millionth time since she had first become a succubi, and, considering that the one who had spoken them was Tera, they were very likely to be true. The thing was that, in spite of the advice that she had been given so long ago, she didn’t have the answer to question that her Queen had posed then.
She had begun to wonder if she would ever find the answer, to be honest with herself. Looking into the mirror she saw, sadly, what she was: there were no horns to be seen, no tail either; both were invisible. That in itself was not a good thing, as another one of Tera’s proverbs came to mind …
… You never hide your horns or your tail. Be proud of who you are.
Shaking her head slightly, she fiddled with a few stray locks of pinkish hair, pushing them behind one ear … more or less … and taking another look at herself. What looked back at her was pink hair in a pixie cut framing a pair of blue eyes that could sparkle with mischief and desire … once. A full pair of lips, also pink, that could melt souls with desire … once. The pink continued as she shifted the pink latex sheath dress—her slightly over-endowed chest was her proudest feature … once. A short look to her toes, with their pink nails, tucked into a pair of, of course, pink strappy heels.
Another sigh, another look at herself … She missed her pink tail and horns … desperately … so much so that she gritted her teeth and willed them to appear. It was a comfort to her to know that they were still there, with her, even if she couldn’t have them present the way she should …
How did she get into this situation anyway?
It started—as all things do, it seems—with a promise … this one made ten years prior.
She had taken, as a lark, really, a position with an escort agency. It seemed a good deal at the time: she made clients happy, and in return she could savor their energies as she needed to survive. She never hurt them—unless, of course, that was their thing—and with the money she made she did something that a mortal would consider odd: instead of hoarding the money for herself, she happily gave it to the other girls that she worked with.
At least it started that way. Over time, they came to trust her more, share more about themselves, and, in return, Sheryl taught them some of the Knowledge of the Succubi. The escort agency did very well for itself from that point forwards.
It was during that time that she came to meet Joseph. At first he was a client, and Sheryl kept a professional distance from him as was expected. Over time, however, something changed, and even to this day she wasn’t sure exactly when that happened.
At some point he submitted to her … completely. She was no longer Sheryl to him; she was Mistress. He was more than happy to defer to her wishes, to do something, anything, for her. But Sheryl never abused that trust, never took him for granted, never allowed herself to be aloof or something other than what he expected her to be.
That was until one day … things changed. She had been showering, in her true form, tail and all, and he walked in and saw her. She didn’t realize he was there until she turned off the shower and began to step out. Joseph was standing there, holding towels for her. He didn’t seem in a panic as he asked, “What are you, Mistress?”
It was the longest moment in Sheryl’s life. Standing there, the water dripping from her hair, along her curves, goosebumps starting to trace their way over her skin, her first reaction was to reach out with her power, blank his thoughts and wipe them away … but she didn’t. Instead she reached out for a towel and wrapped it around herself, “I am … obviously … not human.”
He smiled, “Obviously.”
Stepping from the shower she stood there in front of him, her tail, her pink tail, swishing from beneath the towel as she continued, “I am one of the Succubi. My name is, truly, Sheryl, and I mean you no harm.”
He placed the other towels on the counter, “Oh, I know you don’t. If you meant to hurt me, belittle me, cause me pain, make me feel like the lowest of lows I wouldn’t have called you ‘Mistress.’”
She nodded slightly, “You honor me with that. I take that honor seriously, Joseph.”
He was leaning against the countertop, looking away from her, “I know. You have from the beginning, Mistress. Few do.”
She bit her lip and then started to walk past him, “I’ll be gone shortly. You need not worry.”
She almost, but not quite, made it from the room when his hand touched her arm, “Are you giving up your honor?”
“I am not what you expected me to be. I lied to you. So I will go.”
“When did you lie to me? Your name wasn’t a lie, it appears. Your caring about me wasn’t a lie. I chose you, Mistress, not the other way around. You do not give up that which you did not ever take.”
The words brought Sheryl up short and she turned to him, “I am not human. I’m not.”
He shrugged, “Doesn’t really matter, does it? You are still Mistress.”
She looked at him, really looked at him. The pink bracelet he wore was her mark upon him. He wasn’t a movie star or something like that, but he was, in his own way, a comfort to her and, she realized, she was one to him. “What does matter to you? Truly?”
He was bold—truly so, and she knew it—when his fingertips touched the nape of her neck, “Is this the real you?”
“So all of the time I have seen you, the only difference is that your … added curves … were hidden from me?”
She couldn’t help but smile and nodded again.
He traced a finger over her lips and looked into her eyes, “Will you stay if I ask you?”
Her tongue darted out and licked against his fingertips as she nodded … again.
“Then please, Mistress, please remain here with me?”
The night that followed was more than either of them could have possibly imagined any night could have ever been before …
… with a promise unspoken, but one that would come to haunt them both …
There was a knock at the door and she shook herself from her memories, making her tail and horns vanish into thin air once more.
A short, well-endowed brunette entered the room, trying not to stumble in the tight hobble dress she wore. She bowed, slightly, “Mistress? He is here. Asking for you.”
Sheryl’s eyes narrowed slightly, she knew exactly who ‘he’ was. He was the cause of the situation she was in, one that she never wanted to be in.
Damn him and damn her too.
Still, she took a calming breath before replying, “Thank you, Celeste. I’ll be right there.”
Celeste nodded and nervously fingered the pink bracelet that she wore which completely clashed with her black dress before she managed, “Thank you, Mistress.”
She left, the door closed again, and Sheryl closed her eyes, gathered her emotions, her thoughts, her wishes. She boxed them into a little space inside of her where he would never find them. Opening her eyes again she wore the practiced smile of welcome and greeting that he would expect, her thoughts, the ones that mattered, held beneath the personality that he expected to find.
She walked from the mirror to the door, but paused there, looking at a small picture frame hanging on the wall by the door. She touched her fingers to her lips and then touched the image there twice.
As she opened the door, she allowed herself the small thought that there was an answer and she was going to find it. She was in her own personal hell because of him and she would find her way out of it.
Succubi were, if nothing else, well versed in finding loopholes … and she would.