I was exchanging emails with a dear friend of mine the other night. He shared a story with me, where a certain Queen of the Succubi made an appearance. Something he said struck me as interesting: “I always like how Tera helps her succubi move out of their comfort zones.” That made me ponder a story, one that is all about …
Just about every name prompts a certain mental picture for people. For example, the name Tera immediately brings up the image of a certain Queen of the Succubi with red horns in her raven hair, lovely oh-so-green eyes, and a bemused smile. The image is expected, familiar, almost … magical … in a way.
There are names which, when spoken, paint a picture of someone who is sexy, who has delicious curves and a personality that’s willing to do just about anything, sexual or otherwise. Her name was one of those, and Bianca really didn’t care for it all that much. That particular name was one that many humans—and, for that matter, quite a few in the Realm—connected with a certain latex loving redheaded human who was very popular. Bianca the succubi didn’t really mind her. The problem came, at least in her mind, with the comparisons that would be made between the two of them, even if that didn’t happen except in her mind.
She had a little glossy picture of her namesake stuck to the corner of her bedroom mirror, something she looked at every morning, something which she compared herself against.
Red hair? No, the Bianca of the Realm was a platinum blonde.
Shapely? No, not even close.
Latex? She’d never liked the stuff, much preferring a nice cashmere sweater and yoga pants over anything else.
There was one thing however that they both did have: lovely, deep, hazel eyes.
There was one thing that she did have that her human namesake didn’t have: horns and a tail, white ones. Our dear Bianca was a white-tailed succubi of the Realm and she loved being so. She adored books, spending hours upon hours reading them. The best part of her day was humming happily as she worked her way through the Realm archives within the Library. Bianca’s happiest moment was when she came upon a book, or a scroll, or some other little piece of wisdom that hadn’t been seen by anyone in Tera-knows-how-long.
Bianca was a florist, not a librarían … though the idea had its temptations, not the least of which was the little fantasy that she didn’t tell anyone about. The one where she was called into the Library to pay a late fee and Tera was the one to be collecting on it. It was the source of many a night’s self-pleasure, with or without her tail being involved.
When she found the card in her mailbox, the one that said she had a book overdue, and there was a fine to be paid, she pinched herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. Then she poured a bucket of cold water over herself, and then, to be absolutely sure it wasn’t a dream, she licked the tip of her tail. Upon coming back down from the orgasm, not much more than a puddle on her living room floor, Bianca decided that the note was real.
Thus Bianca found herself in Tera’s office in the Library, a thin book clutched in her hands and very nervous. She was so out of sorts that her hair was a mess, her yoga pants crumpled, and her sweater far too long for her arms. In other words she was a mess and dreading what Tera was going to do to her.
The book was, after all, almost a century overdue.
Holding the volume against her chest, she shook her head and wondered why she’d even taken the darn thing out in the first place … or why she kept reading it over and over … or the hold it had on her. She couldn’t possibly do what the book suggested, it wasn’t her. The entire idea was so far out of her comfort zone anyway.
“Hello, Bianca; it’s lovely to see you!”
Tera’s warm hug was such a surprise that the florist lost her hold on the book and it fell to the office floor with a loud thud that sounded like a thunderclap. Before she could scramble to pick it up, the Head Librarian had collected it and was looking at the cover.
“Um … Hi, Tera … um … Look, I’m sorry about the book being late. I know I should have returned it sooner.”
Tera’s answer was a non-committal “Uh-huh” as she started leafing through the pages. As she did so, Bianca found herself the target of Tera’s so-green eyes, flickering from the book to her and back again.
“I mean, there’s no reason for me to have that book anyway. There’s a lot of other succubi that should have it. I’m sure it would do a lot more for them.”
The red-tail turned a page, tilted her head to the right … and then the one thing that Bianca feared most of all happened. Her Majesty had a bemused smile as she said: “I see.”
The shiver that passed from the tip of the borrower’s tail to her clit and then up through her horns made her nibble her lip: “So … What’s the fine?”
Tera snapped the book closed and that bemused smile turned. Bianca had heard tales of a particular smile that the Succubi Queen had when she was going to do something that amused her. Cupping her hands over her nose she sighed: “Oh, Tera … you wouldn’t.”
Handing the book back to her, the Queen replied: “Oh yes. I would.”
Straightening up, Bianca glared back: “No! You wouldn’t.”
Less than an hour later, Bianca found herself sitting in a dressing room, Tera fussing with her hair while she still didn’t believe her monarch was going to do this to her.
“So. I think we’ll put waves and curls into your hair and …”
“No, Tera; not going to.”
The irresistible brunette placed her hands on Bianca’s shoulders and looked into the mirror: “Sweetheart, you picked the book. You kept it for so long. You can probably recite every page in the book, can’t you?”
“Has nothing to do with it.”
Tera nuzzled her lips into the white-tail’s platinum hair and she shivered: “Gawd … Tera … Please …”
“It has everything to do with it. You are a wonderful person. You are amazing at what you do. But you have a dream that you can’t bring yourself to try.”
“I’m going to look stupid.”
“You’re going to look amazing.”
“I’m going to make a fool of myself.”
“You’re going to have them eating out of your hand.”
“Tera … I’m scared.”
Bianca looked in the mirror, then her eyes fell upon the book which was lying on the countertop: “Everyone will know it’s me. I’m not …”
She sighed: “Yeah; haven’t got the cleavage, the looks, or the style.”
Tera turned the chair around so Bianca was looking directly into her eyes: “You aren’t her. So you do your own thing. Start in your comfort zone and … see where that takes you.”
A sigh … a long one … then the wallflower floral expert asked: “Does it have to be latex?”
The stage was illuminated with a single spotlight. The rest was darkness. The surrounding room was also bathed in shadow, keeping those watching the stage hidden from view. As she looked out from behind the red curtains, Bianca was thankful for that. If she couldn’t see who was looking, then things might not be so bad. The music starting was her cue: a slow-beat tempo with a deep bass line that made her shiver. A deep breath, and she made her way into the spotlight.
Tera said to start with her comfort zone, and so she appeared under the spotlight dressed in her yoga pants and too long sweater from her meeting with Tera. A pair of horn rimmed glasses was perched on her nose and a scrunchie held her long hair in a ponytail. The only thing that was different, at least that could be seen, was the pair of clear plastic six-inch high stripper heels that adorned her.
The pole awaited her and the lessons in the book came to mind—the book about pole dancing and stripping, the book that made her wet with the thought of her fantasy of being a stripper, a really good one. She didn’t hear the reaction from the audience, the music being so loud and the light so bright that nothing came through to distract her. Two quick strides and her right hand found the pole, she starting to circle it with a meek little walk, something that suggested that she was new at this, a little meek, maybe even a little innocent.
Once around and her glasses were held in her free hand, her pink painted lips sucking on the stem she held. A careless toss of her hand and the glasses went sailing off into the darkness, probably to land on someone there. She didn’t dwell on that, she didn’t have time to. The book said to keep on with the show.
Stopping with her back against the pole, she started to roll the bottom of her sweater up slightly, revealing a firm tummy and cute little bellybutton. As she did so, her tail hooked into the waistband of her pants and started pulling them down, revealing that the good girl on the stage was wearing a red “G” string underneath the plain-looking yoga pants.
She let go of the sweater and it fell to below her waist, covering the bare skin and “G” string for but a moment before her hands started teasing her pants lower and lower. As the mid-point of her thighs appeared, something red—a stark contrast against the blue of the yoga pants—came into view. Leaning forwards, her eyes looking into the darkness where she knew everyone was watching, she left her pants pooled around her shoes.
Bianca had lovely, long legs, and the shiny red latex thigh high leggings that were painted onto them drew attention to them—or at least she hoped so; that little doubt in her mind was nagging at her. Pushing that aside, she stepped one impracticable heel out of the pool of material at her feet, then kicked her yoga pants away from the stage.
Her hands returned to the hem of her sweater, pulling it upwards again. The red “G” string appeared again; this time it was clear that was latex, as well. Rolling her hips, she strutted around the stage, tossing her ponytail as she did so. The good girl was becoming a little bit naughty.
Gathering the sweater just below her cleavage, she smiled, nibbled her lip, and then continued to draw it upwards. The bikini top that peeked into view was every bit as red and every bit as latex as the rest of her clothes. A wink came a moment before she pulled the sweater over her head and then gathered it over her cleavage which had been in view for the barest of moments.
Turning away from the audience, her back became the stage for her ponytail to swish, to distract as she pulled the sweater from her and tossed it away. Turning back, it was revealed that she was wearing fingerless red latex opera gloves as well.
The shy girl was more wanton now, more sure of herself. She half-strutted to the pole, taking another turn around it. As she did, the tip of her tail flicked at the scrunchie, shooing it away and allowing her hair to blossom into a cascade of curls and waves. Tera did say that would look good. Bianca, at that moment, wasn’t about to argue over that point again.
The discarding of that last bit of her good-girl image made a change in her posture and expression. The come-hither look she had been practising in the mirror lit up, and her walk on the stage came with the rolling of her hips, the thrusting of her cleavage, and a look in her eyes that called out how sure she was in her sexuality and power.
Bianca lost track of time then, her thoughts going to the pages of the book, playing out those moves and losing herself in them. The music played, not stopping once, and she didn’t care. This was her fantasy … or at least it was until the music started to fade out.
In a bit of a rush, she made love to the pole, rubbing it between her legs then deep into her cleavage. Ending with the pole against her back, she dropped to the stage, her legs wide, her lips in a moan, and her tail twined around the pole above her. She had her eyes closed as the music came to an end and she waited for the reaction. She had tried her best, hoped that it was sexy, better than just being plain Bianca.
The sound of one person clapping caused her to open her eyes in surprise. She must have done terribly if only one person was clapping. She was freeing her tail and getting ready to leave the stage when she heard something she’d never thought she would: “I want a lap dance.”
It wasn’t the words. It was the person who said it.
Looking into the darkness, a light came on, revealing Tera reclining on a chair and watching. Bianca’s breath caught as she realized that the tempting red-tail was dressed exactly as she was, right down to the heels.
Bianca looked into the dark: “Who else is here?”
“No one but us naughty succubi.”
The dampness in the white-tail’s sex came as a surprise and she moaned: “Oh gawd … I was such a …”
Tera crooked a finger: “… hot, sexy, seductive white-tail succubi that danced for her Queen and made her wet.”
The answer to that was a needful moan as Bianca crawled on the stage towards Tera, her beckoning smile and finger pulling her from the pole.
“I want you here, my tail twined with yours, and I want a kiss.”
Bianca’s legs were wobbling, but she focused on looking hot. Feeling hot wasn’t a problem as the brunette wanting her made the blonde cream. When she came within arm’s reach, Tera pulled Bianca in, drawing her to sit on her audience’s lap.
A lick and kiss from Tera against Bianca’s shapely neck made her squirm: “Tera …”
The red-tail drew her tongue away: “Yes?”
“You … You know you asked about my comfort zone?”
She looked into Tera’s eyes: “Fuck my comfort zone. I want you.”
That dream that Bianca had? The one about having to pay a fine for her book being overdue?
That was nothing to what Tera did to her … and her comfort zone … over and over again.