Jun 05 2010

Drawing a Succubus YouTube…

I’m really quite happy that a number of artists are placing YouTubes of their works in progress… Especially the Succubi ones…

And this is another one of those that is really very very well done!

And in case the embedding doesn’t work:


This is the work of an artist named Laurlolz. They seem to specialize in Anime and Manga works. What really surprises me is that all of this is done in GIMP, a free graphic program that is similar to Photoshop, but not quite as advanced… It’s also important to note that this work took about three hours to complete…

The image that I am showing here, to the left, is a small portion of his finished work which you can find at Deviantart here.

She is a delicious looking Succubus, though I wish she had a tail, all Succubi really should have a tail in my eyes to be perfect, but then I am a bit biased on that I think…

I wonder about why her horns are the same colour as her skin tone. This is something that you don’t see often in an image of a Succubus. Most are red, which is a traditional skin tone or black, reflecting another of the more “evil” tones. Mind you, my version of Succubi have flesh tones for skin colour, but as far as I have been able to figure out, none have the same colour for their horns. It brings up the question of if her horns are actually covered in skin or not… That’s an interesting thought come to think about it…

I like the orange of her hair, that’s something you don’t tend to see a lot of in more art of Succubi… Really quite like that a lot…

Please do visit his site and leave comments!

Jun 04 2010

Succubus Playing Pool Figurine…

For the last few Fridays on the Tale I have shared some Succubus or Devil Girl figurines that seem to be part of a series…

This is another one of them…

This figurine is called Hustlin’ Lil’ Devil Babe Pool Hustler. It is about four and a half inches in height and width, comparable to the other figures I have shared over the last few Fridays here on the Tale.

As with the others in this series, you can find this figurine on sale for about $14 in several different sites on the web.

She’s in a really cute pose over that eight ball, neat little bikini outfit and heels as well, but the different coloured horns look a bit wrong to me to be honest.

As always in this series of figurines, the tails are just perfect. I really like the swooping of it around and up before it points away from her…

It almost looks like the tail is pondering the shot she will be making really…

Really a perfect pool Succubus for the collection I think…

It reminds me of a game I played on the Collective once with a dear friend…

You can find this figurine on sale at this website.

There are still two more figurines in the collection to share…

More next week…


Jun 03 2010

Succubi Image of the Week 128

This week’s Succubus is, I regret, another example of an unknown Succubus created by an unknown artist… That still doesn’t mean that I don’t think this is a wonderful work…

This, I think, is one of the most wonderful anime Succubus images I have discovered in all of the ones I have shared on the Tale…

She’s in a seductive pose, a wonderfully sinful outfit, and most of all she has a tail!

I wish that I had a larger version of this art because you can tell that there is a lot of details in her wings and outfit that this example doesn’t really give enough justice to…

I really like the contrast between her bronzed skin and the silver of her boots and outfit. The sheen of it adds a lot of depth to this work. Her hair makes me pause a bit to wonder if it is braided like that or if it is meant to be almost snake-like in its appearance. I tend to think that it is braided however for the reason that it seems to be flying around her without any real semblance of control to it.

Looking at the background, I have been wondering if she is meant to be in a cyberworld or something similar to that.

If anyone has an idea of the artist, or who this Succubus character is, please do comment and let me know?


Jun 02 2010

A little late for a Valentine’s Day Costume…

Once again we are on the search for a costume that might be wearable for Halloween… While that is the goal, some costumes just have names that make you either shake your head or laugh…

This costume is called the Valentine Devil Costume… I suppose that makes sense in a way, though that escapes me at the moment…

This costume is basically a slightly dressed-up bikini. What you get is a sheer ruffled bra top, ruffled panty, a tail which is attached to the panties, and horns all in red of course. It is suggested that you add a pair of clear stripper heels with laces that twine up your calves.

The costume sells for $24. The shoes sell for $63…

It’s just a little bit too trashy for my liking, I mean, really, this design seems like it was not thought out as much as pieced together for leftover items. It’s a shame really that it was. I know that this is one of the least expensive outfits I have shown on the Tale, but really… This could have been done a bit better overall I think…

I’m going to give this a half pitchfork out of five…

It’s just so wrong that I can’t figure out how to fix it…


Jun 01 2010

Temptations 63

The question that one must ask themselves at least once in their lives is, what would you sacrifice for another? Is it worth anything? Or are some things more important than others?

Something for the Queen of the Succubi to think about… and her love…


Temptations 63

By TeraS and Legion & Alei

He turned from Andrea and listened as she spoke and smiled softly at her sadness.

“Who said the children were hers? Is adoption or remarriage unknown?  The children and the husband needed a mother and a wife… Maria desired to be that for a time.  Maria didn’t want to remember because she feared that it would harm the children in the long run.  As for Deedra, it too was what she desired.”

He shook his head, “I hide no ‘secret conditions’, they are not being harmed, quite the opposite… they are happy, where they wanted to be.  Just like many of those that come to you.”

He too now smiled sadly, “As to their knowlage, I have used it to find my way here to meet you.  I have not used it to harm anyone, it is not how I deal.  Is it so wrong for Succubi’s to have desires and dreams?”

He looked over at Andrea, “Did not you desire someone like Andrea in your life, though for a time you did not even know you yearned for it?”

He sat again facing the three women, “I will say again I mean no harm, but it seems as if I am unwelcomed here.  If you wish me to leave I shall.”

I look at him with newfound respect.  Powerful he may be … but immortality?   And he had indeed seen part of my thoughts but did not have the frame of reference to understand them.

I laugh softly, my face softening in humor.  It is always the most powerful that seem in so many ways to misunderstand the most basic and fundemental of human needs and desires.

I listen to Tera speak … and consider what I have heard.

“No … I do not think you should be angry with me at all Legion.  What I did was share with you simply a taste of the most precious gift that humanity possess’s … something that you did not understand and still largely do not.  Did I cause you to fall madly and passionately in love with me … did I flay your soul with hatred so vile that you could not have lived with yourself?  Did I harm you in any way or do naught to you but give you the gentlest of touches and allow you to experience something that is far beyond anything that you have known before. Beleive me, I could have.  The angels in heaven can not resist me if I choose it to be so.  It was a gift … given without thought of return, and I do not expect guests in my house to be troubled by gifts.” I say with a smile.

“And you misundertand my desires Legion, those small few that remain unfullfilled.  I have been offered immortality by one that I trust.  And love … love always strives, wishes to be all things to those you love.  Love without these struggles is of no value, nothing which comes easily is.  You say I wish to have my mind at rest, but what I truly wish is to make all of Tera’s dreams come true, to love her with all of my heart for all of my life.  To speak her name with my last breath and to carry our love with me to heaven so that the angels can glory in the light that it sheds.”  I say with a sweet smile.

“Tera will not forsake me … and I know I shall always be beautiful in her eyes.” I smile.

“I am mortal and Tera is not.  I am human and she is a succubi.  There are differences, things we do not understand about the other.  But we shall grow together as we learn, our love and devotion cementing what we are together in ways that can not be created by mere comprehension or peace of mind.  Yes, sometimes it is painful but in the end it only serves to enrich what comes for each pain, each effort only makes what we share that much more valued and prized.  All you offer is to quickly do what we shall learn to do on our own and deny us the beauty that that effort will create.  No Legion … such is not a bargain worth making.”

I gently stroke Tera’s shoulder as I continue my lesson. “One does not truly love one in spite of who or what they are, but because of what they are.”

I smile softly. “I have no wish to be anything other the Andrea and I have no wish to love any other but Tera.”

I look at him gently … seeing his confusion and mounting frustration.  For a moment I feel pity for him … so much power … such an accomplished salesman.  Had he approached me before the party I am certain I would have gladly sampled his wares, perhaps Tera would have as well.  Now … now his words and promises are useless.  He is, in a word, dangerous but harmless all at once.

“What you can offer I do not need, what I wish, you can not offer.” I say gently.

I look down at my beloved and smile.  “I am happy that Deedra and Maria are happy if the choice they made is, as you said, of their own free will, and if the strength you have taken from them is indeed put to good purpose and that, in the end, their lives are better fullfilled by the experience in the end … a great many “if’s” that have yet to be borne out.”

“However, there is a crucial difference between yourself and my beloved.”  I say as I gently kiss her forehead. “What Tera gives she gives without thought of recompense, only for the joy of making the lives of others fullfilled.  Perhaps you do the same in your way but you do so for a price and not necessarily to fullfill the lives of others.  For example Deedra is immortal.  She may be happy with her choice now … but she enjoyed pleasure and joy in her orignal state as well, pleasure that she can no longer have and she has forfieted much of what she once was to obtain it.  In a century or a millenium … will she regret that choice?  You grant a heart’s desire, but what a heart desires does not always fullfill one, is that not true Legion.”

Perfect he thought quietly.

Andrea had rejected his offer… as he had hoped she would.

If she had accepted he could have worked that as well, but her rejection was just what he had been looking for.

Another piece he thought with an inward smile.

Still, he had to deal with this other matter, “Yes M’lady Andrea, you are quite correct.  But Queen Tera has given a few desires I could name that have done the same thing.  We offer what is desired, with no strings, no hidden meaning.”

Not usually, he thought, thinking of one of Tera’s little games that had a man seeking to help another end up being enslaved by a Domm… somehow he didn’t think that was what the young man had in mind at the start.

“As to not wishing to take me up on my offer,” he shrugged simply, “As you wish, I only sought to help.  If you desire to remain, then that is what shall be.  I had no desire to change the nature of your love or relationship with the Queen.  For you do not desire it and I do not wish to dissrupt so bonded a couple.  You desired to be better for her… but you choose to remain as she found you for that is how she loves you.”

He shrugged, “Very well. I would not disrupt that and I shall respect your wishes.”

“As to your ‘gift’,” he said casually, “I know love very well, you forget the emotions that I hold of all the others within me.  Now, personally I have found no love but I understand it… perhaps better than you think.”

He sat back before the three and tilted his head again, “And you have not yet answered my question, do you wish me to leave if you find what I am and what I do so offensive?”


I look at Legion with a calm demeanor.  Yes, a salesman confronted by at least one being who didn’t wish to buy, at least not at the price that was being offered.

Gently my thoughts drift to the part of Tera that existed within me always.  Love, how do you cope with an eternity of such beings.  Elemental powers always testing you, trying to bribe you or decieve you into doing their bidding. I probably should not have interfered … you are far more skilled at dealing with such beings than I am.  I presume too much at times beloved … but the thought of you being harmed … is more than I can bear.  And I know that this one has caused you grief and it is grief that I wish to protect you from always.

I love you … more than you may ever imagine.  Life without you would not be worth living … except to avenge myself upon the one that would have harmed you.

I look away from my love and to Legion as my hand gently strokes her cheek. “I can not say whether you are welcome or not Legion.  I know that you have brought grief and sorrow to our family and that you know this to be true.  And yet you are here, attempting to make a deal with those you have harmed.  Certainly you are a confident being and a brave one as well, for Tera is not alone.  There are many that love her and any that wish her harm would need to deal with them as well.  I am but one of these and hardly an important one at that.  And yet my beloved allows you here for purposes of her own choosing.  It is not for me to say whether you are welcome or not Legion, but it seems apparent that you are here as a salesman and I for one am not interested in your product.”

I lean down and gently brush a lock of her perfect hair away from her ear and whisper.  “Do you wish me to stay beloved?  I fear that I am not helping matters though I wish to.”


A silly question, but that’s for another time…


May 31 2010

Storm Clouds 75 – An ongoing Succubi Story

This is the continuing story of the Succubi called Storm Clouds…

If you want to read previous chapters, please click the link in the Tale header at the top of the page marked Storm Clouds or click here...

Some editing this week, but made a real effort to bring Chapter 13 to a close… Such as it is at least…


Storm Clouds 75

Storm Clouds

Chapter 10

By TeraS

Tom leaned against a tree watching as Brent played with his children next to a small fountain with a soaring angel in the center. He was puzzled by what the fountain was supposed to mean, and that showed on his face. After all, who would expect an angel motif in a place that didn’t seem to have a lot of angel-looking beings in it?

Camilla came around from behind the fountain, carrying a small box in her hands. When she came close to Tom, she asked if he had eaten anything. When he didn’t answer, she simply put a wrapped sandwich in his hands and, with a nod of her head, directed him to have a seat at a picnic table nearby.

After getting settled, Tom watched as she began to pick at a salad. As he unwrapped the sandwich, he asked, “Something bothering you?”

She paused and then began, “What bothers me, Thomas, is that I have lost a Sister. I suffer for that. But that’s nothing compared to Brent and his children.”

Tom picked out a slice of tomato, “How bad is it for Brent?”

She poked the fork into the salad with some force, “If he didn’t have the children, I am sure that he would … be no more.”

Tom considered that as he took a bite, “He’s still here. So are the kids. And you. He doesn’t strike me as the type to put a bullet to his head and end it all. Sorry, Camilla, I’m not going to dwell on that.”

“Heartless, aren’t you Thomas? Or is that just a means to protect yourself?”

Tom reached into a pocket of his jacket and tossed a small notebook onto the table between them: “Haven’t the time to dwell right now Camilla. Brent gave me a list of people that had something against him. I can look into the ones who are people. You game to grill the ones who aren’t?”

She turned the notebook around and opened the cover. After a moment she whistled: “I would not have guessed at any of these.”

Tom wiped his lips with a napkin, “How bad are the names you recognize? The ones I do are lousy, but I can take most of them from the list. I’m looking for a killer, and most of them are playboys, play-toys and thrill seekers. They don’t qualify.”

Another bite. “Three of them I’ll have to grill.”

She considered him, “At least your list is a short one. From this side I can see ten times that many creatures and things who would have loved to be the one to have done this…”

Tom shook his head, “Not love, Camilla. Need.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Tom explained, “Some people would love to get an advantage over someone else. That’s a wish, a hope and nothing more. Then there are those that need to get that revenge or whatever else they see it as. They have the power to do so, and more so, they wouldn’t be stopped by anything to get it. That’s need.”

She started back at the beginning of the list again, her fingers tracing down the names. Then she said, “Two that we can get to; one that I would not touch with a ten foot pole and an army of hellhounds behind me.”

Arching an eyebrow, he asked, “That bad?”

She shrugged, “Worse. We’ll need help to see that one.”

Tom considered his sandwich, “You know something? I am more inclined to believe that whoever did this is on your turf rather than mine.”

Raising her fork, she explained, “It can be that someone, as you say, on our turf started this, but you don’t understand how things work in your world. You see, Thomas, while some creatures like us can exist there and interact with your people, there are so many more that need an anchor, something or someone to believe in them and give them purchase in your world. Without that they can’t do anything physical.”

Confused, Tom just nodded for her to continue.

“Magic is thin in your world now. Creatures that once thrived in your world now can’t exist there. Oh they can look in, try to whisper thoughts and ideas into people’s minds and see what happens, but, without someone who believes, like a wizard, mage, or witch… they can’t actually do anything there.”

“Then how do you all manage to be there?”

She smiled, “Sex is a powerful thing. Love more so. If you are intimately connected with both of those, then crossing over isn’t a hard thing to do.”

He nodded slowly, “Base desires and overwhelming needs are the gateway to the soul or something?”

“Or something.”

They were quiet for a time until Tom said, “I need to get back, get on and see those names. Can you check your list and … ?”

She shook her head, “No. You are stuck with me for the moment, Thomas. You can do your investigating there and then we’ll both see what happens.”

He frowned, “Are you telling me that I am going to have to go with you to see what you are afraid of seeing?”

“Afraid doesn’t mean I will not go there. But here’s the thing: you are a detective. You know how to ask questions and, moreover, you see more than I do. I think that you asking the questions of them will get us further than I can alone. Besides which, you have one power over them that I don’t.”

Tom looked shocked: “Power? I got nothing.”

Camilla gave a small shake of her head, “You have free will. You have the ability to choose. Most of the creatures we will have to see do not have that luxury. They are connected to other beings in ways that make them what they are. You however … you don’t have that flaw.”

He sighed, “No. I have the flaw that makes me always do the right thing.”

She munched on her salad, “That’s not a flaw. It’s a gift.”

A small smile, “Some gift.”

She just prodded her salad, “Better than most. Count your blessings Thomas.”

Tom chewed on that, and on his sandwich before asking, “Tell me something. Why is it that you always speak to me so formally? It’s always Thomas, not Tom. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard any of you use nicknames or shortened names, for that matter.”

“Manners count, Thomas.”

He gave her a look, “Well I can understand that, Mom always said that having a civil tongue was timportant, but…”

She shook her head, “No buts about it. You can get further with a kind word than with a foul one.”

Tom’s smile was just this side of wicked, “You can get further still with a kind word and a two-by-four.”

“Oh so you have met Tera before, then?”


A similar smile appeared, “You sound a lot like her when she’s in a mood, you know.”

Tom stuck the last of the sandwich in his mouth and mumbled, “Probably why she liked me.”

Taking the list back from Camilla, Tom reviewed it again trying to decide who he would try to see first. Running his finger down the list he tapped one name, “Okay. I think I want to start to get on the bad side of the big names in the city.”

Camilla put her fork down and opened her purse. Taking out a small business card, she handed it to him, “Take this. Some places, your badge won’t get you far. This will open those doors for you.”

Tom considered the card. It wasn’t made of paper. It was a solid piece of silver made into a business card. Written on it was a short line of gold text: He’s doing me a favour. And then a single handwritten letter “T”.

“You can’t be serious.”

Camilla finished the last of her salad with the reply, “Try it. But only as a last resort, okay?”

Deciding that this wasn’t a card to be thrust into a pocket to be crushed, he took out the billfold that held his badge and placed the card into the pocket on the other side of it. Snapping it shut, he replied, “Well, it might as well be next to that piece of tin, to keep it company.”

Camilla picked up what was left of the meal they had shared and tossed it into a bin nearby. Motioning to Tom, she led him to Brent and the children where she said her goodbyes to them. She spoke with Brent quietly for a moment before turning to the kids and giving them a long loving hug.

Tom knelt down to look into the kids eyes and said, “Look after your Dad, okay, kids?” The answer was just a shy nod from them both before they ran over to their father and hid behind him. Tom stood up and offered his hand to Brent, “Do her proud right?”

Brent shook the offered hand with a firm grip, “I will. Watch your back out there, Thomas. Not all things are exactly what they seem.”

Releasing his grip, Tom said, “Rarely is. But sometimes you see exactly what is there, Brent.”

He then turned away and walked to Camilla: “Let’s go. Time’s a-wastin.”

It was a short walk until they were out of sight of Brent and the children. Then Camilla’s horns and tail reappeared as she drew a pattern in the air. Moments later and a portal appeared.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to that.”

She laughed, “Be happy you don’t have to deal with a Tail.”

“Seriously: what exactly does that mean?”

Camilla just smiled as they passed through the portal and it closed after them, leaving a small whirlwind of dust in their wake.

Storm Clouds

Chapter 11

By TeraS

Leaves fluttered around in the afternoon breeze moving here and there aimlessly until finally they came to rest on the green lawn beneath them. The chairs had long been taken away, the place where people had gathered to say goodbye was a plain open space once again.

Then, with a flash of light, a portal opened there, once again making the leaves spin and fly around until it vanished, revealing two figures standing there. Tom and Camilla had returned to the place their journey had begun earlier that day.

Tom looked around, “Looks like they all left without us.”

Camilla brushed some leaves from her hair, “What needed to be said was. Tera would have thanked them, comforted some of them, and reminded them that life needed to be lived.”

“She’s a theologian, too?”

A small giggle, “She is who she is.”

Tom paused for a moment to look at the scene around him, still not quite believing all that he had seen before offering his arm to Camilla, “We’d better get going.”

She held up a finger towards him to wait and then, to Tom’s surprise, her body and clothing shimmered. If looked as if she was underwater for a moment and then it vanished. Camilla stood there, no horns, no tail, and now wearing a blue sweater and jeans.

“You must save a lot of money on clothes with that stunt.”

As she took his arm, a wink and the words, “Well fashion is important to a girl you know.”

Together they walked side by side from the backyard, through the ground level, and out the front doors of the brownstone building.

As they passed through the front yard, they could see Tera, sitting on a balcony, high up on the third floor of the building. She was in the same dress she had worn for the ceremony that morning, looking concerned with what was going on and why someone would threaten her own.  She rested on a wrought iron chair, a small table with some papers upon it beside that.

She watched as Tom and Camilla hailed a passing cab and then entered it. Tom was the last to enter, pausing for a moment to look back at Tera.

He touched two fingers to his left temple and then nodded to her. Tera’s reply was the raising of the tea cup towards him and a nod in return. As the cab left, she continued to pick apart what she had learned from those that had attended this morning, and, even more so, those that had not.

Someone was threatening her own; that was concerning, but, moreover, the reason why escaped her for the moment. Still, she had found someone to search the mortal realm, and she had placed with him someone who could help to protect him.

She hoped that wouldn’t be necessary …

As she sipped the cup of tea in her hand, a voice broke her thoughts: “Why are we doing nothing?”

Placing the cup on the table, she answered, “We are doing something. The old ways are long gone: we cannot simply strike without aim. Our kind is better and smarter than that. Come here, Daughter … It is not seemly to hide in the shadows and seethe in anger …”

A snort of derision was the only answer until Jane came into view. She walked past Tera and stared off into the city around them. Crossing her arms over her chest, she began to rant, “You place your trust in a human, someone who has no idea what he faces. You ask one of your own to look after that human and, moreover, you tell her to submit to his will. How can you do this?”

“I can …”

“That is not an answer.”

“Of course it is, Daughter. It is the very first lesson I learned, so long ago. I can believe in others. I can trust in others. That is the first lesson in knowing yourself and what you can do.”

Jane gripped the railing until her knuckles were white, the anger within her so very clear as she twisted her hands against the cold steel. Looking over towards Tera, she remarked, “I don’t believe that Brent told us the truth.”

“I know he has. For what reason would be lie about his Eternal? Just because you do not understand does not make his words false…”

“You have trust, Tera. I do not. I buried my twin today. I have lost a part of myself that … I should have known she was in danger and helped her … I couldn’t. I want someone to pay for this. I want to be there to strip skin from bones and cause an eternity of suffering for this.”

Tera’s sigh was long and sad, “Have you forgotten all that you have learned Jane? Are you really so willing to fall into darkness for this? You are still young in our ways, but you know well that what you ask for… cannot be.”

Jane didn’t look towards Tera, “I should have been there.”

“You could not, Daughter … You were not in a place to help her. No one was. She was targeted by someone or something that wants something from us.”

Jane continued to fume, “Then strike back against them… all of them… Tera, just send out the Syreen. They are hunters. They will find the ones responsible and make them pay.”

Tera picked up the cup, “All right, Daughter. Who shall we send them against? The humans for being here? Those beneath who wish us harm? Those above who cannot understand us?”

A sip of the tea and then, “Being vague would mean that you condemn all around you to the same fate, a fate that they do not deserve. The ones who did this? They will be found and then taught the error of their attack on us; but only when I have proof, and not a moment sooner.”

That made Jane pause for a moment, her thoughts putting what Tera had said together with something she had read that morning. Looking to the grass below, she whispered, “I saw a story in the newspaper today. It mentioned the place where Brent had been. It said that a man had been seen leaving the place before the fire started.”

Tera shook her head slightly as if to say no, but then she brushed a finger over her lips before answering, “That would mean someone else was there, obviously.  Then the question to be asked is: what was he there for and what, if anything, does he have to do with what happened there?”

Another whisper from Jane: “Or Brent is lying about what happened.”

Jane heard the cup settle upon the table and then… silence.

That silence extended for a time and then, to Jane’s surprise, she felt a hand take hold of her right wrist and begin to pull her into the building, the tea cup on the table tumbling into space as she was forced inside  and out of sight of the surrounding world.

When she turned around, she saw Tera standing there with her red horns and tail visible. The tail pointed at Jane as harsh words passed through the air: “If you see an error in my ways, Daughter, say so. If you feel that I am wrong, prove it. If you have a better idea, show me. If all you have is opinion and anger, you do me and your Sister not a single bit of good.”

Tera closed the distance between them, pressing Jane against the wall behind her in fear of her Queen’s wrath. She closed her eyes, waiting for the strike of a hand against her cheek and the words of displeasure she knew were to come.

But instead, she felt a brush of fingertips against that cheek and then, for a moment, all she could do was listen to Tera’s words as her body refused to move under that touch …

“How do you think I feel, Jane? How do you think I feel when one of you is harmed? How much more do I suffer when one of you dies? How much worse is it when that is for no good reason? You talk of the pain you have for Patricia’s passing in your heart. As her mother, do you not think I share that?”

Jane couldn’t look at her. For the first time since she had become one of Tera’s she felt ashamed for disappointing her. A tremble in her voice revealed her fear as she asked, “Mother… have… have I disappointed you?”

She found her head turned towards Tera, and could not resist the power behind that. Tera’s voice was soft again, “You have not disappointed me Daughter… Am I worried? Yes. Do I fear for you? Always. But you have not disappointed me. That would take far more than some anger towards me.”

Jane’s eyes fell upon Tera, seeing a soft smile on her lips and the love of a mother in her eyes. She felt Tera’s fingers stroke against her skin and then, unbidden, tears began to fall across that cheek, wetting the fingers that remained there. Jane managed a sob, “I …”

The sob was answered by a soft hush and the words, “Do not let the need for revenge or the hate that comes with it cloud your judgment …”

Jane whimpered the truth, “I can’t, Tera … I just can’t …”

“I know… I’ve been there before…”

She felt a tail wrap around her legs, and then she was in Tera’s embrace, the tears coming without end …

… and Tera just telling her to let it all out …

Storm Clouds

Chapter 12

By TeraS

The cab ride was a quiet one for Camilla and Tom. When he started to ask her a question, she would either shake her head slightly or give his arm a little poke with a finger trying to get him to stop asking the question. Tom understood why she wouldn’t want to talk about her kind, or world, or anything else that was related to things normal people wouldn’t understand. But he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t talk about her job, her life in the city, or anything else except the weather.

He noticed that she seemed to watch the driver intently for some reason he couldn’t figure out. This driver was a short, slightly pudgy man with a bald spot in his dirty brown hair. Tom also noted–by looking in the rear view mirror–that he was wearing mirrored sunglasses and seemed to be chewing on something.

Tom filed that information away and then returned to watching the city pass by. His thoughts turned to where they were going and, more importantly, the person that he… they were going to meet. It wasn’t really someone he wanted to see, but then there was no choice in the matter. He had to start someplace, and this was as good a place as any other.

The cab eventually stopped in front of an old, broken-down-looking warehouse on the south side of the city. It was placed on the edge of the piers near the shipping port there, a place that Tom didn’t know that well …

… but he knew of the people they were going to see.

The cab left after Camilla paid the fare. She was very insistent on getting a receipt for it and, when Tom asked her why, the answer was: “I am on company time, after all. They can pay for it.”

After the cab had left he asked, “What was the problem in the cab?”

“You couldn’t know, Thomas, but the cab driver was a troll.”

“Okaaay. Are you taking about things that live under bridges and ask for a toll to cross?”

“The same. They figured out that cab driving would fill in their role in life. That particular cab, and company, are owned by trolls. Have to be careful around them,Thomas; those that know about them also know they can obtain useful information from them.”

Tom rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “It’s a real different world looking through your eyes.”

She tilted her head to the right, “Sorry, Thomas, but there are many things out there that you are not aware of and need to be. I said I would watch your back for things I know of … just doing what you asked of me.”

Seeing the practicality in that view, Tom nodded and then looked towards their destination, “Right. Welcome to the seedy underbelly of our fine city. In here, you will find an assortment of motley characters who would be happy stabbing you in either the back or the chest, whichever happens to be closer to them.”

“How nice … I shall have to send them a pie sometime …”

Tom just looked at Camilla: was she kidding? Then he realized that she was putting up a good front for him so that he wouldn’t worry about her. Taking the lead, he replied, “Let me do the talking here,okay?”

She just nodded and followed one step behind and to Tom’s right …

Opening the door and entering the warehouse, the pair found themselves in a  small open area with a low railing surrounding it. It was large enough to have a couple of chairs by the door, a water cooler next to that, and–taking up almost all of the rest–a single large old wooden desk that faced the door. Beyond the railing, the interior of the warehouse was shaded in darkness, save for the few places where overhead lights burned with a low buzzing sound, illuminating the rows and aisles below.

Behind the desk was a red-headed young man. He wore a pair of overalls with the name “Billy” stitched onto a patch over his heart. He was more interested in the newspaper on his desk than the people who had entered, and, for a few moments,he just continued to read it and ignore them.

Seeing a bell on the desk, Tom struck it once, the sound being swallowed up in the depths of the warehouse. Billy looked up then: “Yah? You here ta pick somethin’ up?”

“We’d like to speak to the owner, please.”

“He tain’t in. Mebby be here next month ‘n’ you’ll have more luck.”

Tom was about to get a bit rough when he heard Camilla move behind him and then, to his surprise, the sound of the water cooler bubbling as water was taken from it. He turned to see Camilla taking one of the seats and sipping at the paper cup she now held in her hand. Tom had a small smile on his face then as he answered, “Well, that’ll be fine. My associate will wait here and I’ll just step outside and tell the SWAT team to start coming in.”

With that, Tom turned and strode to the door. His hand had begun to turn the handle when he heard a new, gruff voice behind him, “Y’all don’t need be getting out of hand here, ‘tective. The boy’s jus’ doing his job.”

Tom’s smile became larger when he had turned back and saw the newcomer. He greeted him with a chuckle: “Nice to know that I’m remembered, old friend.”

From the shadows appeared a man who didn’t fit the voice. He was dressed to the nines in a three-piece black suit that looked to be worth a small fortune on its own. A slender man, he looked almost frail, but Tom knew that under that exterior was a fighter. Dusky-haired, his piercing grey eyes belied an intelligence that many missed in dealing with him. He passed through a gate and then stopped in front of Tom, offering his hand: “Nice ta see ya Tommy. Been what? Five years?”

Tom took the hand in his and gave it a firm shake, “Seven. You left the force and turned into a man about town, Bill. Just don’t run in those circles.” Tom released the hand and then motioned for Camilla to join them. He explained, “This is Camilla. She’s new.”

She smiled and offered her hand, “Very nice to meet a friend of Thomas’.”

Bill took the hand and, to Tom’s surprise, kissed it in the old-fashioned way before releasing it, “I’m sure Tommy dun’ know how lucky he is. C’mon in; Lil’ Billy can watch the store while we talk.”

After passing through the gate, Tom struck up a conversation: “That’s Billy? Really? How old is he now?”

“Eighteen. Smart lil’ bugger. Mebby smarter than me at that age. Boy’s been running this place for the last coupla years. Proud of ‘im.”

“You should be. Wish I would have known that I would have found him here, wouldn’t have been such a hard ass.”

“Good for the boy. Builds character ‘n’ all that crap. Sorry Ma’am.”

Camilla laughed softly, “No offense taken, I promise.”

The three of them walked the length of the warehouse until they stopped at a large,glassed-in office space. It looked like the typical business office: computers, filing cabinets, rows of desks within cubicles. As they passed through, the occasional “Good morning, Sir” was greeted with a nod or a gruff “Mornin’” from Bill. The three entered a large office that had a nameplate on the door declaring to the world that“Mr. Shipping” was within.

Bill took his leather chair behind the desk as he motioned to Tom and Camilla to have a seat on the leather sofa nearby. After cracking his knuckles, Bill asked: “So what’s gotcha in here, Tommy?”

“I’m looking into a murder. Happened a couple of days ago. I hate to say it, Bill, but you are one of the people under investigation.”

The look of surprise was followed by: “Funny. Now, fer real; why ya here?”

“I’m not joking, Bill. The wife of a reporter was killed last night. Stabbed in the back;brutal, ugly mess. The investigation so far points at a small number of names,and you are on it.”

Bill rocked back in his chair and then tapped his right hand against the arm of the chair before saying, “Ya mean that rag reporter that goes around pokin’ into other people’s business, right?”

Tom nodded, “Read about it?”

A grunt. “Ya. Decided that going to the funeral wuz no good. Me and that hack dun’like each other. Pissed me off coupla’ years ago. Still am.”

“Have to tell me about it. You know the drill.”

Another grunt: “Right. Traci died after Billy was born. Didn’t think about anything but Billy till he got out of school. Managed that coupla’ years ago. Billy gave me a yellin’ to and told me ta get out there and find somebody cause I wuz a mess. Wuz right. Had put everythin’ into the business for so long after I left the force. Couldn’t stay in the force cause of … ya know.”

Tom nodded, “Still don’t believe that was your fault, Bill. Never have.”

He smiled, “I remember. Never forgot, either. Met a girl. Nice, proper, classy. Was doin’ well and finally I was gonna pop the question to her. Was in that old barbershop on 22nd–you know the one–talkin’ to the barber about why I wanted ta look purty, and in the next chair wuz that hack. Spilled the beans in his rag the next day. Took her to a nice place that night and, when I asked her, the newshounds were there, snapping pictures and shoving questions at us. Made a mess of it. Pissed me off. She ran off and I took a swing at him, knocked him to the floor, gave ‘im a busted nose, and that got into the papers, too.”

Tom sighed, “You always had a short fuse, buddy.”

“Yeah. Spent the next year suing the rag, him, coupla others. Called in some favors and made his life … rough.”

“How rough?”

Bill leaned forward in the chair and brushed the top of his desk before answering, “I wanted him to know that I was pissed. So some of the boyz from the docks followed him and tried to scare him. Didn’t work. Tough bastard.”

“Did you kill her?”

The look of hurt in Bill’s eyes spoke volumes before the words did, “Nah. Tommy, I couldn’t, wouldn’t ever raise a hand to hurt a lady. Any lady. If one of the boyz did this. they know that I’d hurt them and then, if they lived, they’d be in jail where friends of mine would make sure that they’d never get out alive.”

Tom looked over at Camilla to see that she had a look of shock and disbelief in her eyes.

Bill continued, “Ma’am, ya need to understand that, in this business, you have to look tough and be tough or they walk all over ya. I am a hard ass, I can be a bastard and more, but I got honor in me. Some stuff is sacred.”

Camilla asked, “Did you ever see her again?”

Bill looked at the desk, “Still talkin’ to her. She’s shy, pretty ’n’ stuff; see her in quiet places so that she dun’ have that happen again.”

“But you did not give up? Even after two years?”

Pointing to his head, Bill replied: “Too hard-headed, Ma’am.

Camilla smiled, “Not that … you love her so … Do not give up on her, please.”

“Only if she gives up on me, Ma’am”

Tom broke in, “Bill, have to ask you something. Of all of your people, is there anyone that might have done this?”

Billy’s voice came into the room from behind, “Me. Y’all better talk to me, too.”

Tom turned to look at him, “Hello, Billy. Come on in and have a chair; maybe you can explain exactly what you mean?”

Billy leaned against the door jamb looking not at Tom, but Camilla. She turned to face him and then asked, “Something wrong, Billy?”

He looked away and then said, “Nuthin’. You look like someone.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Nah. S’ok.”

Camilla stood up and walked over to Billy. She took his right hand in hers and then started walking out of the room with Billy in tow, saying as she did, “We’ll be outside.”

Once she had him out of the office she asked, “You want to find someplace quiet to talk?”

She could see the blush on his cheeks as he mumbled something and then started walking out of the office and then out a door to the outside. It led to the pier behind the warehouse. Ships would often be tied up there, loading and unloading, but, for the moment, there was nothing and no one around. Billy guided her to a wooden bench against the warehouse wall and, after brushing off some dirt there,said, “Sorry t’ain’t cleaner.”

Camilla just smiled and took the offered spot, “Nothing to be sorry about, Billy. I promise I won’t break.” She straightened out her dress and watched him pace back and forth for a few minutes before she asked, “You are not to blame, are you?”

“No. No, Ma’am I didn’t. I coulda. Know enough bad people on the docks to have that happen. No. Wouldn’t”

“You are your father’s son.”

“Am, Ma’am. All he has is me and this place. Nothin’ more. I told him ta meet someone ’n’ he did, but that guy screwed my old man up. Now he’s afraid of stuff and won’t try again.”

Camilla was quiet for a time and then said, “Who do I remind you of, Billy?”

A sigh: “Sort of look like Mom in the pictures.”

“Come here, please.”

Billy resisted for a time, trying to be brave in front of a woman, not wanting to look weak, but finally he sat down beside Camilla before putting his hands over his eyes, “Ya know the thing, Ma’am? When it happened, I did want ta kill that guy for it. He’s got a wife, a family, and he messes up what we coulda had.”

“Your Mom wouldn’t be happy with you if you did. Your father brought you up right and I think you would never disappoint him. So why are you both so violently opposed to Brent? Why would your father be a suspect in this?”

Billy put his fists together and then rested his chin on them before managing the words, “They say he killed a woman when he was a cop, Ma’am. He couldn’t prove he didn’t, they couldn’t prove he did. So they gave him a pink slip and showed him the door.”

Camilla stroked her hand against Billy’s arm, “Thomas seems to think that your father is innocent. But he has to ask the questions and get answers to clear him, you know. The same is true of you. But you know something?”

He looked at her. “Wha’?”

“You believe in souls, Billy?”


“I do. I believe that when someone does something wrong, their souls turn black and that blackness shows on the outside. I haven’t seen anything from your father or you that makes me believe that you did this.”

A sniffle, “Thank ya, Ma’am.”

She shrugged a bit, “Not any good in a court, you know.”

“Dun’ matter. Someone believes in what Dad said. That means somethin’ to me.”

Camilla’s hand stroked his shoulder as she asked, “If you want to help your father, then can you do us a favor?”

He looked at her, “Depends on tha favor.”

Camilla told him.

Storm Clouds

Chapter 13

By TeraS

Jane was confused.

This was something new for her, to be blunt. She was impulsive, brash, and made the occasional ass of herself, but she was never confused … unless she talked to Tera. The simplest conversations always seemed to make her look at what she was and who she was instead of whatever it was that started her on a rant in the first place.

She had expected Tera to punish her in some way, or try to make her change her mind. Anything, something that would show some anger from within her … but Tera didn’t. All she did was comfort her, talk to her, and in the end, after all of the words were out in the open between them … Tera just asked her what she wanted to do.

Jane’s answer was simple, she thought, “Find who did this and hurt them.”

But then she heard Tera’s thoughts and found them so much more satisfying, “Why hurt them when you are doing something so much worse. You can show them that they won’t win.”

For a moment, Jane was flabbergasted that she didn’t see things that way. It made sense, really: why just hurt someone when you could do so much more in so many other ways to show them that they made the biggest mistake of their lives?

So she now found herself standing on the curb outside of the place that Brent had burned to the ground, looking for answers. The police had put their yellow tape around the border of the remains, but now it was in the hands of the fire department, and their investigations were inside, looking for the source of the fire, among other things.

Jane understood why she was here. There was something of a loose end to all this, and she needed to close it, or find where it led to. Tera had told her to find out what she could and then meet with Camilla and Thomas when possible. She still didn’t think a lot of him … or her … but she would look here for clues and would do as she was asked to …

… because she couldn’t let them win.

Looking at the people milling around and the security stopping people from poking around where they weren’t wanted, Jane came to the decision that she would have to use the thoughts and emotions of those around her to get inside and see what happened there for herself.

With a sigh, Jane closed her eyes and focused on the people within to see if there was someone she could use … and she found her.

On the main floor of the burned-out building, John Tanner was sitting cross-legged, staring at the main hallway and trying to piece together what this place once looked like. He was an Engineer in the department, recently transferred into the arson squad, and this was his first investigation. He had once been a regular firefighter, but after a three-alarm blaze that during which a building fell onto his company, he was shifted to arson investigations to recover from his wounds … both mental and physical.

Physically, John was your stereotypical fireman: muscular, clean shaven, his blonde hair closely cropped, per regulations. He wore his cherished department windbreaker, blue jeans, and hiking boots. Not exactly regulation, but they said he could be comfortable, so he thumbed his nose at the regs while he could.

Putting his clipboard to one side, he stretched his back, the popping sounds reminding him that sitting on the floor was not doing good things to him. He was resigned to being in this job from here on out, mainly because, to be honest, he was scared to death of being buried alive again by bricks, wood, and fire.

A tap on his right shoulder made him turn around.

Standing there was the one person he didn’t expect to see today. Her name was Jenni: she was part of the department’s public relations office, and she was, to be blunt, his crush. He had known her for almost a year now and still didn’t know exactly what it was about her that attracted him. Maybe her short red hair? Her girl next door looks? Her laugh? He just couldn’t ever put his finger on what it was about her that he liked so much. But more importantly right at that moment …

… she had coffee with her.

Maybe it was the coffee?

Taking the cup from her hand, he took a sip … and decided that it wasn’t the coffee (God, it was awful).

Putting it on the floor beside him, he asked, “So what brings you into the ashes, Jenni?”

She shrugged, “Oh, P.R. mostly. The press want to write up what happened, who’s to blame, how the budget should be cut back, the usual stuff.”

“Right. Been on that path before, haven’t we?”

“Almost every other week.”

She walked away then, looking around the room and poking her nose here and there before asking, “Anything like a clue to what happened?”

He smiled, “Oh, I know exactly what happened.”

She turned to him with a look of surprise: “What?”

“Can’t you tell? There was a fire and the place burned down.”

Rolling her eyes, she called back as she exited the room, “So helpful. I’ll have to see that you get a medal of honour for that, you dumbass.”

John’s chuckles followed her out the hallway as she vanished from his sight.

Moving down the hallway, she eventually made her way into the basement before stopping at the bottom of the stairs and gazing into the darkness of it. For a time she remained there, unmoving, almost like a statue, before her form shimmered and Jane stood there in Jenni’s place.

Jane found herself of two thoughts. One was that John seemed nice enough, maybe one day he and the girl she had pulled from his thoughts would be together. The other was that she found herself oddly attracted to him for some reason she didn’t, or couldn’t put her finger on at that moment.

Jane pinched her nose and then drew with her hands a pattern in the air. She was hoping to divine something of the magic used here. Every type of magic had a pattern that could be traced to the being, talisman or other mystical thing that had created it. The hard part wasn’t the finding: here, in this place, there was so much of it embedded into the walls, floor, and space between that she was choking on it.

No, the problem was that, if there was any traps left behind, they might go off when she prodded them. Jane wasn’t worried about that, she had learned a great deal from visitors to the Realm, and felt that she was prepared for whatever might be still here in this place. Sure enough, Jane’s overconfidence in her abilities made her miss one small simple spell that triggered when her own magic touched it.

Upstairs, John was sketching a diagram of the fire’s source, and had decided that the next place to have a look was the basement. The scream from the basement that made him snap his pencil in half sent him moving in that direction as quickly as he could …

He rushed down the stairs calling out Jenni’s name, hoping that she was alright in spite of the scream he had heard. What he found was not what was supposed to be down there.

It was the stuff of nightmares.

The basement was on fire. He didn’t stop to wonder what started it or why, because crumpled in the middle of the room was Jenni. The flames were raging around her, soon to be licking at her body if he didn’t get her out of there quickly.

She wasn’t moving and she didn’t answer him when he yelled at her to get up and get out of there. The fire was raging and crackling in the space, and he knew that waiting any longer, or going for help, would mean it would be too late to do anything for Jenni.

Gritting his teeth, and ignoring the pains in his legs that were screaming at him to top moving so fast, he covered his face with one arm and ran through the flames to collapse beside Jenni in the middle of the burning room.

She was curled up facing away from him, but was breathing, he took that as good news at least. It took only a few moments to wrap her up in his jacket and then sling her over his shoulder.

But throughout all of this, the fire got worse, the walls started to burn and the ceiling began to crumble around them.

John tried his best to push the fears down so that he didn’t freeze. He couldn’t.

Struggling to his feet, he concentrated on putting one foot after the other, his focus on getting up the stairs and out of that place before the whole place came crashing down around his ears.

The wooden boards of the stairs creaked as he put his weight on them, the fires now running up the railings trying to close off the path to safety in front of him. To his horror, as he made it halfway up them, the fire became a wall closing off the exit and trapping them.

Unless he ran through them.

The fears grew and he remembered the feeling of helplessness, the crushing weight of the debris that had almost claimed him once before. But then he heard Jenni coughing and that made him take the risk and rush through them.

Outside of the building, the flames were pushing out of the wrecked structure, the surrounding news crews taking pictures of it, the fire department calling for backup to fight the blaze once again.

In the middle of the confusion, John burst through the front door, smoke coming off his clothing and off of Jenni’s body. He ignored the offers for help, pushing his way through the crowd to his car that was parked nearby. Placing Jenni on the ground beside it, he opened the trunk to remove an oxygen tank, intending to place the mask on her and help her to recover.

Pulling the jacket from her, he froze in confusion…

It wasn’t Jenni. Not quite. It looked like her, she was dressed like her, but there was one thing that didn’t fit John’s reality…

She had two small green horns sticking out of her hair…

May 30 2010

The Ties That Bind – A Succubi Story by TeraS

This week, with any luck, the first story I have ever submitted to the EMCSA will be appearing this weekend. Still, I wanted to share it here on the Tale as well as it is Succubus related after all. Some will recognize the Succubi that is in this story as being Tail, my other, more Domme self…

This story was written for one particular person. It breaks the occasional rule and as such some might not like it… but that person did.

Iʼd like to thank James, FreezeFrame, HLS, BFslave, Aria, Jo, S.B., Legion and the members of the Collective and the Garden that are part of my extended online family for prodding me to submit this work to the EMCSA archive.

The Ties that Bind

By TeraS


It’s that place between the world you know and the world deep inside of you that wants to be freed. The world you know is a world of grey, the world you know as real. You’ve been there all of your life.

The world you fantasize about is a world of black, a place where things are different, where you are different. It’s where the thoughts in the deepest corner of your mind come out to play.

Your dreams opened the door to that world; slightly, at first. As you peeked in more and more, the black grew. As you saw the black, desired it, wanted it, your need began to open the door more and more until it was big enough for the black to come through, to take you inside, to make you cross into that world and leave the grey behind …

The first spark of consciousness traces through your mind. That little touch of knowledge that you exist comes to the fore: not really actual thought, mind you, but that primal moment of realization that comes when you pass from the hold of nothing into the grasp of … something.

You remember … nothing. You know that something happened, but what that was or is … well, your thoughts are slippery when you try to recall the details. As your mind starts to regain focus, alertness, your senses begin to send messages to you … messages you try to sort out as the fuzziness continues to roll like a warm spring mist over you …

First, you notice the sheets beneath you: silky, satin fabric that is cool against your bare skin … all of it. You are surprised to realize that you have not a stitch of clothing upon your body. You want to be embarrassed by the knowledge, but that spark is smothered underneath the thought that she wants it that way.

Second, you can’t see. Something is tied over your eyes. It feels like the caress of the sheets beneath you.  You catch the barest hint of a subtle aroma, but you cannot place it just yet. It is familiar, almost soothing, and, for a moment, you want to relax and wait; that is, before your curiosity comes to the fore.

You try to raise a hand to remove it. It’s then that you notice something else: you can’t move your hands, for your wrists are bound with something that feels silky against your flesh, almost warm, as if alive, if that is possible. It’s not quite like the feeling you had before. You sense strength in these bonds, wrapped within the warmth. You think about trying to break free of the bindings, but all you can manage is to ball your hands into fists, feebly, against whatever holds you fast.

You suddenly grasp that you are tied to a bed or something similar, helpless, powerless, unable to do anything to resist what may come to be … that realization sends a shiver through your body. As it passes, you cannot help the soft mewl that escapes your lips. You have no control. Nothing you can do at this moment can possibly free you, but, oh, that just makes those little fantasies you hide deep within you paint pictures in your mind that you can never admit to having …

Then, to your surprise, you hear movement nearby … someone walking, the click of heels coming clearly to your ears. You turn your head reflexively towards the sound to see who it is. But you cannot see anything–you forgot about that, didn’t you? You try again to break free of your bonds, but they do not give, do not budge, and refuse to release you.

Your lips are dry, and you wet them with your tongue before trying to speak. For a moment, you think about crying out in anger and frustration, cursing and swearing at whoever is there. But then another surprise meets you. Before you can say a word, you feel the touch of a single finger against your lips … and fall silent … hushed … quiet once more.

As that finger traces over your body, for the first time since you awoke, you hear a voice … a female voice … honeysuckle sweet. Her words are flowing over your mind like a warm summer river, the rush of them covering over your thoughts, questions, and concerns without effort. You cannot help but listen to every word she purrs, for her voice has become your world …

“Welcome, my dear. It is so good that you are waiting for me. I do want you to be happy … you are, aren’t you? Oh, of course you are … You cannot help but enjoy this, can you? The hold I have upon your body … how I can touch you wherever I wish, however I wish, and you cannot do anything but beg in need for more? That is something I will keep within you. I adore pets that need to please me, and you will … won’t you, Pet?”

Your mind floats in the warmth of her praises … until she speaks of pets and, for an instant, you have a need to ask a question. Your mind begins to form that query, capture the words, and send them to your waiting voice, but all you manage is another mewl of excitement, a moment of need in your soul. For an instant—just one—you cannot help but wonder what it would be like to be her pet and obey …

Then she begins to torture you … Oh, not physically (that, you realize, would be beneath her). No, she tortures you not with pain, but with the slow, measured ebb of pleasure in your mind, body, and soul. You realize that she has chosen you, only you, to fulfill a purpose that only she can understand. That somehow brings you comfort; you are the one she picked. But you suddenly understand that, alone, isn’t enough.

Her finger leaves you, and you cannot help but moan at the loss of her touch.  The thought enters you that she has left you now, leaving you here … alone, discarded. But then you hear the sound of her footsteps and know that she has not left you, but continues to examine you. You know, for certain, that she possesses you. That brings you a moment of worry; are you going to pass her scrutiny or fail utterly?

Then she touches you again. Her finger now begins its caress at your little toe, the nail stroking it a bit as her sultry voice ponders “this little piggy” and its new home: your new home. You find that thought immensely erotic, the image of being at her feet, gazing at her, worshiping her above all else sending a wave of heat through your body.

She hums faintly as she continues to explore. You follow in your mind as her nail traces against your flesh. Then the sensation of her nail tracing over the sole of your foot becomes clear. You want to gasp in surprise as that feeling makes you shiver. Then you hear her talking about man’s feet of clay and how they can be moulded into a new form … how malleable clay is … how your body can be reshaped so easily if she desires it to be so … and how you want that now …

She finds a new point of interest now, her hands moving there. You can almost see the slight smirk of amusement on her lips—ones that you have not seen yet, but that you now need to see—as your mind paints the picture for you. Oh, and that need is becoming stronger and more insistent by the moment now.

Her touch now moves over your Achillesʼ Heel, the slight pressure of her nail there leaving a mark against your skin, you are sure. She speaks, in that amused tone she uses, talking about how some have a single weakness that can be exploited once it is discovered …

Then you feel warm breath on your ear as she purrs into your mind about how that weakness can be used to bring you to heel. An image comes into focus now: you, on your knees, at her side, your eyes not looking up towards her, but down.  The floor is there beneath you–it must be there–but you care not what it looks like. No, you are focused upon the sleek, shiny black latex leggings that grip her long slender legs so tightly, the light shimmering against the inky blackness. You find yourself watching the light as she moves slightly beside you. Then her voice gives you permission and you rub ever-so-carefully against those legs with your hands, memorizing every curve there … because you are her perfect Pet.

The image clears and you mewl again, the words “I want to obey you … forever” trying to escape you. You want to tell her how you want to be brought to heel … to know the obedience that she demands of you … the touch of her crop against your skin … the collar marking you as hers fastened around your neck. You try to keep that all within you, but the idea of her taming you … totally … almost makes you cum.

You cannot help but want to pull the wants … needs … desires … all that she is pushing … into you, to make you hers completely. She strokes that finger against your calf and purrs, to you telling of the never-ending arousal that will flood into you … teach you … make you respond to them as she, and only she, wishes.  Your entire purpose shall be focused upon furthering her wants … needs … desires … however she wills …

You feel the bed shift slightly and realize that she is creeping onto it … on top of you. A whimper escapes at the idea of being trapped beneath her, and she answers with a giggle of bemusement. She pauses for a moment, as if deciding what morsel she will claim from you next. Then she continues her slow path towards your submission …

Her hands are now on both legs, tracing upwards, making you want to twitch, until you suddenly realize that you cannot do so … she has not allowed it. Her hands fall upon your knees, and she talks about how knees are meant to be used in submission, how wonderful it is when one is upon them, looking up towards one’s owner in bliss and submission. That is where you feel you should be.

She strokes them and tells you how kneeling makes one weak … how kneeling makes one want to obey … how one is unable to defend oneself when kneeling in submission … how being there, looking up towards the one who claims you, enforces her hold upon your mind. You find that compliance to her wishes is becoming deeply seated in your thoughts. And that makes you want to cum again …

She passes her hands around your now damp sex, leaving it needy for the moment, then moves her hands now over your stomach, telling of the ache within, the need that burns there, the need to serve, to obey, to fill that ache with the ambrosia of submission … telling you of how the essence of it burns within you now … of how, when you give in to her, you will see and understand … telling you of how, when you submit, it will be everything to you …

Her nails press again into your skin, marking you. There is a pattern to their movements, but your mind is foggy again … She purrs about how the sweet honey of a smoothed-over will tastes … about the deliciously filling warmth of it in your soul … about how it is an ache within you … but, like the ache one feels when the strings of mind and body are pulled just right, it fills you with liquid bliss. But it rubs your heart … your mind … your soul. Your gasp is sudden as you understand what she will do to you.

She rests her hand upon your chest and talks about your lungs being awash in the vapours of submission; how you will breathe them in … deeply … rhythmically … over and over … until you cannot think of anything but submission; how they will sap away your strength … conquering you … taking you … and then … then they will convert you into what she desires you to be.  Then her hands move over your shoulders to your arms, making them leaden, unable to move without the desire of your Mistress. You know that now: she is

Mistress; you want to obey her. Nothing but your total submission will do now.  Your palms are sweating from the need to obey, to make what she tells you real by your own hands.

Another image forms now. All thought is lost in this image of you proclaiming yourself as hers, and only hers. You turn to all of her slaves and see that she chose you above them all. You see that they are under you … and you are under her … forever.

The image vanishes then as you feel her hands stroking against your skin, telling of the strengths you have within. But, though you are strong, she has already conquered you, taken those strengths and subjugated them to her will.  You feel her nail stroking against the nape of your neck, her voice describing the mark you will wear there … a collar: a symbol of her ownership, the mark of your complete and total subservience to your role in her world … forever. You know what color it will be: black; so black that light sinks into it and thus becomes hers as well. A symbol of the void within you that only she can fill with her will.

Your lips part as you try again to say something … anything … just to show that you are hers. But she stops you by touching them with her finger again. She tells of a voice that is yours, but it is not. You know that, like all that you are, it is hers to command. You want so much to moan her name in need, to plead that you are obedient to her, that your submission will be total and complete forevermore … as she commands it to be.

You shiver as she strokes her fingers over your cheek, the heat of a blush forming there under her touch. You moan slightly as her finger leaves your cheek and touches the cloth that covers your eyes. Then you can sense her touch over your eyes and try, but for a moment, to move yourself closer to that touch, but then feel shame at not waiting for the command of her voice to obey.

She tells of the darkness you are awash in now, how there is only that darkness now within you. You are lost, both within and without, and you whimper in reply, for you know with certainty that she is perfectly correct. She purrs about seeking the light … her light; how your emptiness will be filled with the light of submission; how her will, poured into your form, will fill every part to overflowing.

She then traces over your ears with her fingers, opening the passage to your mind, body, and soul, wide and forevermore. She commands that you will only hear her words. You will obey her will and hers alone from now until the end of time.

Then … she moves away. You feel her no longer. She is there, but she does not allow you her touch of pleasure. Fear grips you now: what must you do for her?  How can you make her understand that you are everything that she has spoken of? Her voice is still honey-sweet, but, beneath that, you can feel the cold dominance of her will in her words she speaks to you: “What are you? Whose are you?”

Then, to your surprise and overwhelming relief, you manage to say but two words: “Oh Mistress…” The moment that those words leave you, a shudder passes through you, the words and the power they have over you marking your soul now. You hear her soft laughter, and then the words you need: “Yes, Pet.  Tell me.”

The words come rushing out of your mind, taking control of your voice as you cry them into the darkness around you: “I am yours … I am your servant, slave, pet … everything that was is for you to decide … everything that will be is up to your dictation … everything … is now conquered, filtered, and an extension of your desire, purposes, wants, loves, and lusts … purely … I … am yours … Mistress …”

For a moment, she says and does nothing. You know that she is judging you now. Her decision, you know, is final, and there is nothing you can do except hope that you have pleased her enough for her to claim you now totally … but then you realize that, from the moment you first awoke, she had you–then, now, and forever.

You feel something form around your throat now and you want to cum so badly … you know what it is. She spoke of it and now … now you know that her will is changing you permanently. For a moment, her collar is cold against your skin, but you overlook that for the mind-altering thought that you are now Pet.  Her pet. The collar seals your fate to her will now, leaving you forever ready to serve her needs and wishes in whatever Mistress commands … now and forevermore… a pet, a slave, whatever she wishes, it does not matter, you will be that for her.

She reaches out and tousles your hair, her fingers sending sparks of need and desire through you. You need her, her touch, her dominance … you melt. You know that she does not have to tug on the leash you know she will hold when she returns to the world she came from, you following behind in her wake. She doesn’t have to, because you are, forevermore, her perfect pet.

You know that Pet will not ask or plead, simply accept that Pet is Mistress’ toy, and that alone will make Pet eager to please her before all else. Pet will be perfect. None shall see a single flaw within, for Pet is perfectly submissive to Mistress and the envy of all. For you are Pet. Nothing else matters.

She then slips a finger underneath your blindfold and begins to pull it away from your eyes. You are blinded for a moment as the darkness that had hidden her from view is replaced by the light that lets you see her at last.


You see the latex she wears… Tight, sleek, restricting… Light shimmering off the curves of the one sealed within. Black. Black like the control she holds within you now. She wears a black corset that hugs her chest like a lover. A black skirt wraps around her waist, split down the side. The leggings trail down towards the black heels she wears easily, her stance there of complete dominance over you. Her flame red hair cascades in wild curls over her shoulders and down her back. The pair of ebony black horns in her hair are matched by the long, black, spaded tail that moves behind her like a snake waiting to strike.

Her green eyes sparkle in amusement as, again, you try to catch your breath at seeing her. In one black-latex-covered hand she holds the leash. Her leash.  You know it well: another symbol of her control over you.  Idly, she reaches out with her hand and, with a flick of her wrist, one by one, the bindings tying you to the bed come loose. But then, instead of freeing you, they coil around your wrists and ankles. You are still bound to her, physically and mentally; that binding has not gone just because you can move now.

She steps away from you, leaving a short distance between her and you.  Without a thought, your body moves from where you had rested towards where she stands, your eyes focused upon her. You follow with your eyes the finger of her other hand as it points to the place where your submission to her begins.  There is a sweet smile on her lips as you sink to the cold floor in submission to her will. She purrs seductively as you worship at her latex covered altar…. forever. The bliss of ecstasy that follows as you serve her will makes you shiver and moan.

Your mind goes blank again as you please her, for that is what matters now.  She tastes of cherries … But of course she does. Your mind now remembers that you have pleasured her so many times that the number doesn’t matter. Just that you have done so. Her hands twine into your hair and you move to obey the slight pushes of her hand there.  She moans in pleasure and you cum with her. The knowledge that you have pleased her makes the release surging through you so much better. You come back to awareness still on your knees, worshipping at her temple, and you know now, perfectly, that everything is exactly as it should be.

She reaches down then and clips her leash to your collar. As it clicks into place you feel your slave clothing shimmer into existence around you: the tight red latex shorts against your skin; the shiny red slippers encasing your feet. You look at your hands and see that they are coated in red latex gloves.  You shiver as you come to know that you are now properly marked as her property. None that look at you can mistake her marks upon you. That fills your mind with bliss, and your fingers rub your sex against the coating she has placed over it, making it feel even better, as it does forever in her power.

She holds your leash by a single fingertip. Nothing more is needed … ever. You cannot imagine anything but obeying her. It matters not what her commands are; you need, to the very fibre of your being, to obey. To do anything less would be shameful, awful, the end of your existence. That, you know full well, will never happen.

Without even a tug on the leash, you follow as she begins to walk away. You move quickly to be close to her, just within her shadow, precisely where a good slave and pet would be expected. You catch the slightest nod of approval and manage to hold your mewl of pleasure within you.  A gateway to her domain appears in front of you. She is taking you home. Her home. Her world. Just before she steps through, you hear the words, “You are Pet.  Mine, above all else … forever. Isn’t that right, Pet?”

The only answer you manage is a soft moan of “Yes, Mistress.” Then you pass from the grey world you cannot remember anymore into the black world, the one you finally realize has always been where your heart and mind existed…

… Forever.