Nov 19 2009

Succubi Image of the Week 100

For this, the 100th Succubi Image of the Week, I decided that I wanted something special, interesting and most of all…

Something that I haven’t posted in the same theme before…

Hellish Guitar by Undine CG

This is called Hellish Guitar by Undine CG, and as usual I can’t locate anything else on this which is a bother…

As always…

Help is welcomed!!


Nov 18 2009

Just can’t get a Succubus costume right…

No I haven’t given up looking for a decent Succubi costume… Not that the thought of giving up hasn’t crossed my mind, but then I don’t give up that easily…

The maker of this particular costume I think needs to rethink it a bunch…

Black Succubus Costume

So what we have here is a one-piece black outfit with red flame trim. It’s more of a pantsuit sort of thing really when you consider it. The costume includes the choker and the black and red sleeves. The horns and the shoes are not part of the package…

This sells for $90 USD in various places on the web if you want to find it…

Honestly it seems slightly trashy and, at least to me, and this is an odd thought, sort of looks like something that a Succubus of the 70s would wear to a Disco…

Not that I did back then, I had a little more taste than that…

As something to wear in public, it would be okay, save that, I think, you need to wear platform heels with it or you’ll be tripping over the pant cuffs as they brush the floor as you walk…

2 out of 5 pitchforks, mostly for the “in-public” usability of it all…


Nov 17 2009

Temptations XXXV – The Grotto – Part V

The Grotto appears, and the sad secret that it holds within it as well…


Temptations XXXV – The Grotto – Part V

By TeraS and Thamior, Cyprusmage, and Darkwalker’s Shadow

A blank expression remained on Tristan’s hidden visage as the world around them seemed to twist and turn as soon as they stepped out in the next floor.  Almost like a ride from an amusement park, the young hunter would muse.  He took note of the several wings, included the one sealed behind them.  For a moment he wondered if the shotgun he carried could breach the barriers.  There was no doubt a number of mystical guards in place…but he wasn’t carrying just any shotgun.  Still, it was prudent to go where directed, at least for the time being.  That meant entering the rather lush garden.  Tristan admired the tranquilty of this room, which seemed to serve as a foyer for the grotto.  Complete with dragon guide no less.

“So…I’m ready when you are,” Tristan said to John once the key had been delivered.

Something about the show bothered him. He did not doubt for one second that this was real. He knew the extent of Tera’s power…or at least, he knew that she was capable of this much. But why would she need to do this? He assumed that this particular section of the library (no doubt hidden from the public) was created long before he and Tristan made their entrances into the library. But why bring them here? Tera was (as near as he could tell) omnipresent, able to be at any point in the library (and indeed, at every point) whenever she wanted. Why did she want them here…?

“Well, we’re not going to get our answers just standing here,” he said, and slipped the key into the lock. The key turned smoothly, and there was a faint “click” as the door was unlocked. Removing the key, John pushed slightly, making the way clear for them both.

The door opened to a passageway leading off into the distance. The walls of the passage were carved in strange glyphs of an ancient world. There was no roof to the passage, but the tops of the walls were covered with what looked to be brambles and thorns. A warm sun sent streamers of light through the branches of the trees that shaded the passageway somewhat. Far off in the distance they could hear the sound of water crashing into rocks and then on occasion the song of a bird hidden in the foliage around them.

The two walked for a time along the path provided until they found themselves exiting the passageway at a cliff. Around them was shear rock cliffs and wild plants that neither truly recognized. When they looked across the chasm in front of them, they saw a waterfall streaming over the rocks, the waters falling from hundreds of feet above them into a vast bay leading towards a shimmering blue green sea in the distance.

They noticed a wide path leading towards the bottom of the waterfall a short walk away….

On the other side of the bay, the shape of a woman was outlined in one of the smaller waterfall branches, her body being washed by the waters as they fell, the Dragon from before floating in the waters nearby seemingly holding something in his right hand, a stream of smoke arcing from his mouth into the air…

Despite his experience with the supernatural, John was still impressed. Not only was it beautiful when taken at face value, but the patterns that made up this pocket realm were perfect; even the best mage leaves behind someimperfection in their work. Tera, of course, was far older and much more powerful. Of course she was this good.

But it only distracted him for so long. The question that had been nagging at him furrowed his brow, and set him walking toward’s the water’s edge. For a moment, he considered waiting before speaking, his logic being that she would be unable to hear him over the waterfall. Then he remember who she was.

“OK,” he said, his voice showing a slight hint of impatience, “We’re here. You wanted to see us?”

Tristan let John take the first steps down the trail, towards the water’s edge.  He was regarding their new surroundings with a bit more wide-eyed astonishment than John was.  Then again, John seemed to have more experience with pocket dimensions than he did.  Which was fine, of course.  This simply meant that Tristan was bringing up the rear.  He was constantly fighting the urge to draw a weapon as an act of precaution.  He wasn’t a violent person by any means…he simply preferred to have his bases covered.  And that meant being prepared.  But with the dragon circling in the waters and John’s advice constantly cycling through his mind, he remained a careful observer, only for a moment admiring the female form painted upon the falling water across the way.

Tera was under the waterfall washing her hair in the warm stream of water that cascaded from the rocks just above her. She was just running her fingers through her long raven hair, the ends of it sticking to her naked bum when she heard John’s question. She smiled to herself and then continued to finish her bath as she sent into his mind, “I did John… Thank you for bringing Tristan with you…” Her mind shifted to Tristan and she sent, “Tristan? You can only be harmed in my domain if I will it… You have a great deal of talent but so little focus to it… Try to focus on the point that there is a lot of power around you… You have a means to hurt…. Not kill… And wounded beings are a very threatening thing…”

She turned to the side and then dove into the pool below the waterfall. She swam under the surface of the water for a time and then surfaced in front of John and Tristan in the waters perhaps 10 feet away.

Her hair was slicked back on her head, the waters shimmering off her skin as they cascaded from her face. The waters were just opaque enough that her body was draped in shadow under the surface, but she was raised high enough in them that most of her breasts were bare to the air and visible to them both.

She treaded water easily and then said to Tristan, “If the threat is visible but does no harm… What do you do?” She looked at John and asked, “If the reason is not sufficient then where do you go?”

More riddles. It seemed that the more…sentient entities preferred to hide their intentions and meaning with puzzles and falsehoods. All of this was part of her game, and in her realm you had no choice but to play along and hope you’d win.

“There’s always sufficient reason,” he said, voicing his personal philosophy, Even the incomprehensable has a reason, we just can’t see it. Regardless…you go where you’re needed.”

Tristan watched with a limited patience as Tera spoke to each of them individually, drawing closer and closer as she did so.  His expression remained a blank stone, but he did admire her figure.  He was a mortal, heterosexual male…appreciating the beauty of this woman was like an appreciation of art; one doesn’t need to be a musuem buff in order to recognize something that might be artistic.  The key was determining whether the beauty of the art is authentic…or simply the intended representation of what’s on the surface.  Regardless, he did well not let his mind wander on the exotic curves and nature of this woman, careful to listen in on her words.  Did she consider him a threat of some sort?  Or was she simply toying with him?  She had said he didn’t have focus…and that he should focus where she directed him, so to speak.  Tristan, of course, believed himself to have plenty of focus.

Wounded beings as a threat…with him capable of hurting others.  Hurting her?  Was she the danger she spoke of?

“A threat is just that…the potential for harm.  Until that potential reaches the point where the harm is imminent, you do not act.  Each threat must be judged on the amount of harm that could be inflicted and the potential for that harm…almost like an equation.  That is why information and patience is essential…”


Information and patience are a virtue…

Sometimes that isn’t enough as we will see next time….


Nov 16 2009

Storm Clouds XXVIII – 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...

As always my thanks to James for editing my scratchings into something better…


Chapter 8 begins and we find out some things with Thomas about Brent and Thomas himself…


Storm Clouds

Chapter 7

By TeraS

“Thomas, talk to me.”

Camilla stood there, looking quite concerned. Tom found himself looking at her, not with the panic he had at first, but, instead, with an odd curiosity.

He let out a snort, “I’m good. You wouldn’t understand.”

“That you lost someone close to you? That you where hurt? Still are? Always will be?”

Tom didn’t answer that. He could, but he felt like she was getting into something that she had no right to. So instead of answering, he turned away from her and looked at the landscape around him.

The rows and rows of grave markers made it clear that this was a place of rest for those who had passed on. For a moment, he wondered how someone like Camilla could be killed, and then shoved that thought away.

It wasn’t something that he needed to think about.

Camilla frowned, “You haven’t got a lock on pain, Thomas. No one does. Not ever.”

He thrust his hands into his pockets, “Alright, I’ll assume that you are telling me the truth and that you aren’t going to kill me.” He heard her coming closer. Passing him, she nodded as her tail moved from side to side behind her. “Why me?”

Her tail stopped, “That’s not for me to tell you. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Tera about that.”

He managed a smile, “Passing the buck or thinking that I can’t handle it?”

A shrug, “Both.”

He walked up to her, looking at how she had changed. She was still the girl he had met not that long ago, just with some optional extras added to her. If he overlooked those, she was still a woman… No. That was wrong. She was what she was, but she didn’t lie to him … that one thing made her trustworthy.

“Alright. I’ll talk to her later. Camila, what … why are you?”

She rubbed her hands along the side of her dress, “We aren’t all evil, nor are we all good. We make choices just like you do. Sometimes they are good ones, sometimes they are bad ones, but we choose to do and be what we are.”

“Nice speech.”

She winked, “Thanks… Been working on that for centuries, actually.”

“Now how about the unvarnished truth?”

She nodded, “In short, I believe we are in limbo between light and dark, that both want us and both are afraid of us. You can think of us as wildcards, Thomas, but there is one thing, one promise that we have made that we can’t forget … people like you have to make your own choices, decisions, and actions …”

He put a hand up: “I didn’t choose to be here.”

“Oh yes you did. You chose to come. You chose to knock on the door. You chose to see what you could find out. All of that was your choice.” She waved a hand, “All of this followed because it had to; you would have never accepted a lie…”

He thought about that and came to the decision that she was right. He wouldn’t have let this lie, ignored it, moved on. That wouldn’t have happened because it was not his nature to do that.

“Besides giving me the breadcrumbs to find you, why did you pick me?”

Camilla shook her head, “Can’t say.”

A question came to him, “Tell me something. Are there angels and all that other stuff?”

“Yes. Angels, devils, dragons, faeries, and more are all real. It’s just that your world has forgotten about the wonders around it … most of the time.”

“So what are you, exactly.”

She looked almost embarrassed, “Beings like me are Succubi, Thomas. There are Incubi here as well.”

He arched an eyebrow, “I’ve heard of those.”

“No. You have heard of something like us, not us.”


“A Succubus or Incubus kills through sex. We don’t. We gave that up ages ago just to be able to be who what we are right now; independent beings that serve no one.”

Tom thought that over, “Okay, so you split away and you do what you want.”

A slight nod.

“That’s dangerous, Camilla. No rules means nothing to control you.”

A smile, “But there is. One very important thing, Thomas. We know the past. We won’t go back to it again.”

Tom wiped a hand over his eyes, “You know that this is all too much to take in.”

Her hand was soft and gentle on his shoulder, “You are, really, one of the few people that can handle this, Thomas. Most people would be screaming and running in circles at this point.”

“What makes you think I won’t?”

“Curiosity … You want to know the secrets. Your mind is wanting to know answers to questions you have had since the day you were born. Most of all, you won’t let yourself back down from a fight, Thomas.”

Tom thought that over for a while. It was true that he was wondering about a lot of things … more than he wanted to be. But three things came to the forefront. He had a mystery. He had a job to do … and he had a promise to keep.

He looked her straight in the eye, “I need a partner in this; someone who knows the lay of the land; someone who will watch my back.”

She nodded, “You always will in our world.”

He offered his hand, “I … I will trust you Camilla. I trust that you will watch out for me.”

She took his hand, “I promise. I want a promise from you, too: wherever this goes, whoever did it, whatever it takes, you won’t walk away.”

They shook on it and then Tom asked, “Where are we? Fill me in.”

“You are at what you would understand as our cemetary.” She pointed towards the mountain covered in fog at the edge of the markers, “It continues far up the mountain, almost to the very top. Everyone that we can return home is here. Some never return and we are less for that. From the first of us to the last of us, our bodies rest here.”

Then she pointed into the distance to Tom’s right where three figures collected themselves around a marker, “Her family is up there.”

“Let’s go. I want to talk to them.”

It took them a good fifteen minutes of walking before Thomas got his first good look at Patricia’s family. Her husband was talking to their children, trying to explain to them, Thomas assumed, what had happened and why their Mother would not be returning to them.

The husband was a short blonde man, unassuming, someone you wouldn’t look twice at in the street. He wore a darker suit, in comparison to the children. Looking at the children, Tom was struck with the realization that neither of them had horns or tails.

“Why don’t the kids have horns and a tail like you — or their father, for that matter?”

“They haven’t decided if they want to be like us. So they are simply children with their own ideas and goals. If they decide to become like us, then they’ll have to go through the ceremony and be picked by a Tail.”

“Picked? By a Tail? How does that work?”

She shook her head, “I’ll explain later. Not in front of the children. We protect them from what we are so that they can make up their own minds…”

With that, Camilla’s horns and tail shimmered and vanished, but her clothing remained transformed. As they came within earshot of Patricia’s family she added, “I’d thank you not to talk about it please.”

Tom nodded, but resolved to ask Camilla more questions about their rules later.

Rules were meant to be broken in the eyes of some people … Reaching the father, Tom offered his hand, “My sympathies upon your loss, sir.”

The other man stood and paused for a moment before taking the offered hand, “Thank you. Name’s ‘Brent.’” The grip was firm but not overwhelming, although Tom had the distinct feeling that he was being judged at that moment by this man.

A nod, “Tom. I’d like some of your time.”

Camilla went to the kids, soon hugging them and drawing their attention away from Tom and their father. She gave him a nod, and Tom took that as his chance to start his questioning, assuming that Brent agreed.

Brent spoke to the kids, “Okay you two, go with Auntie Camila; her friend wants to talk to me. Now be good, right?”

A chorus of, “Yes Father”, and then Camilla and the kids began to walk towards a path leading away from the grave markers.

Brent then rested a hand on the marker which Tom now saw had Patricia’s name on it, “I’ve been told that you are looking into my wife’s death. I’ve been told that Tera asked you to do this. That true?”

“She did, I was investigating before I knew about what you people are. She’s hard to say ‘no’ to…”

A chuckle: “She’s the Queen. Rarely pushes people, mostly suggests and guides when needed. But she has always let people choose to disappoint her or not.”

“Have you?”

“I’ve disappointed myself.”

Storm Clouds

Chapter 8

By TeraS

Tom was not exactly surprised at those words. Survivors usually did blame themselves for things that happened to their loved ones. Some couldn’t handle the pain and didn’t stay in the world, taking the easy way out.

Others became vigilantes, trying to take an ounce of flesh or more from the person, persons, or thing that took what they loved away. Tom’s concern was a being of power losing control and wrecking havoc.

A being like Brent.

Tom started where he needed to, “Why? What could you have done?”

Brent placed his right fist into the palm of his left hand, “I could have been with her. I could have stopped it.”

“So why weren’t you?”

For a moment, just a moment, a shadow fell over Brent’s face as he replied, “Because I was stupid enough to get trapped in a ward set by a mage.”

“Explain that.”

A pair of black horns shimmered into view at Brent’s temples and his black tail formed behind him, that tail almost lifeless, not moving as Tom had seen Camilla’s do almost constantly.

“Summonings are a bitch. Any idiot with the right book and a fragment of knowledge can summon us into their world. They can summon anything. The stupider ones go and summon beings that they can’t control and then in a panic they summon another being to try and save their worthless hides.”

“Which were you?”

A snort, “The latter. The ass summoned a Darkweaver. Ugly horrid tentacle thing that like to hide in shadows and kill the unwary that get too close. He summoned it thinking that he would use it to kill a rival. He didn’t expect that it would try to eat him instead.”

Brent rubbed his fist twice, “So in the middle of that happening,  he grabbed his book and tossed out a summoning spell with no focus. I was unlucky enough to be nearby and got dragged into it.”

Tom held up a hand, “You haven’t said where you were.”

“You remember that house that burned to a crisp on the lower west side the same night that … that Patricia left me?”

A nod was Tom’s answer. That was in the papers. A two story, hundred year old house went up that night. One body was found in the mess, the morgue didn’t even bother trying to identify it, there was not a lot left.

“I was the closest being to him, so I went from being at home with the kids to standing in the middle of a bloodbath. The mage didn’t last five seconds after I got there. The Darkweaver then turned its attention to me and I had to kill it…. Otherwise it would get loose in the city. Couldn’t do that.”


He laughed, “Because the Queen demands it. She says that we’ll never get the recognition for what we do, but someday it will matter. So I corned it in the basement, lit some hellfire in the floor to surround it and then burned the place to the ground.”


Brent didn’t flinch at that, “Burn it or watch others die, me first, then whomever got in its way. Arson was the quickest way to stop it. So I did it. You can take me to jail if you want for that.”

Tom pushed on, “You have more important things to deal with. And two kids to look after.”

The tears that formed in Brent’s hurt eyes were something that Tom had seen before.

Brent wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “I couldn’t leave until I was sure that thing was dead. I stayed in the flames watching the place turn to ash because I had to be sure it was gone. When the fire department had the flames under control and I couldn’t sense anything else there, I portaled out back to our home… When I came through I…. I felt her die.”

This was confusing to Tom, “How could you do that?”

Brent started to play with a silver ring on his right hand, “She was more than my wife. She was… is, my Eternal as I am hers. When something happens, something really bad, we know…”

Tom took that at face value, “Why didn’t you go to her?”

Brent gave him a look, “I did. Dammit I portaled as close as I could and ran to her, but the mall cops were there trying to save her and I couldn’t reveal myself to save her. Then your people arrived and it was far too late to do anything more….”

Tom could see the anger in Brent’s eyes, “If I had left, if I had just assumed the fire would have done its job, if I wasn’t so focused on that…. thing… I might have felt her in trouble and gotten there sooner, taken her back here and our healers might have saved her….”

Tom felt like he was walking on egg shells, “You won’t believe me, but I know what you mean. Do yourself a favor… get yourself together and real quick. You have two kids that need their father right now. If you forget them I’ll slap you myself so that you remember.”

The dangerous look in Brent’s eyes vanished at the mention of his children, “They have no idea really of what’s happened, or it hasn’t hit them yet… what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Be a father. Be their father. At least you have that to comfort you Brent. I wasn’t that lucky…”

Nov 15 2009

A 1980s Succubus movie flashback…

I discovered a movie today that, well, really I wish I hadn’t found. However it does have a Succubus in a major role so…

This bit of 80s horror silliness was called Dreamaniac and was released in 1986. It’s your typical horror slasher movie from the 80s with bad music, odd sets, lousy acting…

Oh and a heck of a lot of screaming and yelling throughout the movie…

A YouTube of a trailer of this movie:


And in case the embedding doesn’t work:

The story is that a guy makes a deal with a Succubus, and she is named as such n the movie. Anyway he wants to be irresistible to women, which he becomes, and in return the Succubus gets to go around and kill the girls off one by one in all sorts of bloody ways…

The succubus is named Lily, not too obvious a connection with Succubi is it?

She’s not that nice looking to be honest, but that isn’t the most disturbing thing about this movie… The acting is awful, the lighting worse, the lines are laughable…

If you rent this sometime, remember to have another movie with it because you’ll be pressing the fast forward button a lot.

There is one interesting thing about this movie, that I didn’t expect…

Ashlyn Gere, a porn star, stars in it…

That didn’t help this movie a lot really.

You can see the IMDb information on this movie here.

And, to be complete, the VHS box cover of this:

Dreamaniac Movie Box

Avoid this at all costs…



Nov 14 2009

A Tale of the Succubi – Wordplay by James

This past October, James posted a Halloween Tale of a Succubi on the EMSCA…

((Linky in the sidebar on the right…))

He has allowed me to post his works of art in the past and I am going to post that story here…

Because it’s wonderful…


And I want him to know just how much I adore every word that he shares with me…



Thank you my heart…




by JHB

Ike couldn’t believe he was on the subway at this hour, and on Halloween, no less. He never used to mind Halloween, not until a couple of years ago, not until that drunk driver ran that light and came careening down their quiet street in the Village. He’d been out there, with Trish, enjoying the autumn air, walking home from a café, expecting to watch the wild Halloween parade out their window a little later. His hand was so warm and safe in hers, her arm wrapped around his waste in that way lovers had of walking so close together that it was a miracle they were still standing up—and, of course, they really didn’t want to be most of the time.

The street had been in that pleasant sort of twilight that looked as if the sun had set but the sky was still eerily bright, and the street lamps hadn’t quite flickered to life yet. Because it was one of those narrow and bent lanes that wasn’t supposed to exist in a major metropolis, there was never much traffic, and they had no chance to see what was coming until the behemoth of an SUV roared out of nowhere, its lights tearing through the deep violet veil of night, tearing the fabric of their world into shreds suddenly, viciously. He only ever saw those lights and the shadowy outline of the murderous vehicle; never the driver’s face. Ike’s heart had caught in his throat and his breath and wits had left him, he was so terrified.

And now he hated himself for getting so scared.

If he hadn’t been a useless deer in the headlights, he might be home with Trish now. There would have been a Valentine’s Day wedding instead of a Thanksgiving weekend (after he got out of the hospital) interment of her ashes. They would have had dinner at that café again tonight, watched the parade out their window, snuggled under her afghan, and then maybe have stayed snuggled under the afghan until All Soul’s Day. Were it not for his shocked paralysis, he wouldn’t have to look for excuses to avoid the parade every year, despite the fact that so many good friends were part of it. They all understood, of course. But he still fondly recalled the days when he would help them plan their drag, help shave and/or bind appropriate parts of their anatomies to carry off the hilarious looks they imagined.

Before those weeks and months of waking up in a cold sweat, night after night, seeing that accursed vehicle breaking through the deep violet darkness of his dreams, his heart pounding out distress calls, his body petrified, never seeing the driver’s face, he had looked forward to Halloween. Now, he actively sought ways to avoid it.

Being out this late on this night, however, was not among them.

Scrabble had been his therapy, of sorts, after the accident: something he could play while recuperating; something that engaged his mind; something that he had never, ever played with Trish (she was more of a “Twister” sort of woman). Best of all, he could play it on his computer, which had served his desire not to be around people. But he was good with words . . . very good with words . . . and it wasn’t too long before he was beating the computer. That was when he discovered that his software allowed him to compete with others on-line.

Not too long after that, he met Katy—cyber-met her, at least.

Katy was WordLoverEternal within the Scrabble on-line community. She was one of the only players who could keep up with him and occasionally best him. After three of four months of this, they met each other in person at a community Scrabble tournament at the 42nd Street “Y.” She seemed kind of sweet, in a kid-sisterish sort of way. Then, or the three or four times he saw her at other Scrabble gatherings in the following months, her somewhat mousey brown hair was either loosely tied into a ponytail behind her head or braided into two slightly slackened pigtails, one next to each ear. She seemed very fond of sweaters—almost always orange or with some orange in them—replaced by oversized T-shirts in the summer, always worn with relaxed-fit jeans and sneakers. A pair of horn-rim glasses dominated her nice but unremarkable face.

Ike found he could talk—well, type, usually—with Katy. He didn’t tell her every detail about that terrible night, but he had related his loss and his terror, and his discomfort with Halloween. And he had told her enough about his day-to-day life that she realized he’d kept entirely to himself ever since Trish died. Mostly, they would chat for a few minutes about the weather and such before one or the other of them said, “Let’s get on with it; get your letters.”

On about Columbus Day, as they found each other in cyberspace for one of their thrice-weekly games, the following appeared of Ike’s screen:

WordLoverEternal: How about you come play a couple games at my place on the 31st?

What was this? Ike let the image shimmer on the screen for a moment. Was she coming on to him? No, this was Katy, but . . . He decided he needed more.

IkeCr89: Huh?

Katy was back to him much more quickly.

WordLoverEternal: Well, you said you hate being home on Halloween. It’s one of our usual Scrabble nights; I thought you could come to my place and we’d play with the tiles and board (I do have them).

IkeCr89: Oh! I thought you were thinking about a . . . well . . .

WordLoverEternal: what?? a date?? Are you nuts?? You said you thought of me as a kid sister!! 😛

Ike realized how foolish he sounded, and realized she was making a kind gesture. Within short order, everything was agreed upon and they began their usual game. Ike didn’t give it another thought for two and a half weeks, until the morning he opened his IM window and found:

WordLoverEternal: Working all day, and my cell phone is out, but should be back just before you arrive. All ready; even vacuumed the apt! Later!!

Now he couldn’t get out of it . . . not politely, at least. So here he was, climbing up from the “A” line station by Columbia and walking toward Riverside Park. Part of him idly wondered how Katy afforded to live up here, but chalked it up to rent control. Then he noticed how dark Riverside Drive was near the park; dark and a bit eerie, even with the street lights. In fact, a lot of what they did simply exaggerated the shadows of the eclectic mix of modern, art deco, and even neo-gothic architecture in the neighborhood. Not what Ike needed, really. Add to that the purple sky—not dusk so late but a bit of light pollution—and the slight warmth in the air, and to Ike’s already edgy nerves it felt very much like . . .

An SUV flew around the corner Ike was rounding, running over the curb just a few feet away from him before it sped down the street. All he saw were headlights and the shadowy outline of the vehicle as he felt the breeze of its wake. He never saw the driver’s face.

Katy saw Ike flushed and panting, sweating, eyes bulging, almost unable to speak. She brought him in, sat him down, and gave him a glass of wine to calm him a bit. Step by step he stuttered out an explanation of what happened, and suggested that perhaps he should just go home.

“Don’t be silly,” she tsked. “you have come all this way. And besides, are you really ready to go back out on the streets right now?”

Ike knew he wasn’t. Katy walked over to the coffee table where the board was set up, her pigtails bouncing on the shoulders of her green sweater. “Let’s get on with it; get your letters,” she teased.

Sighing, Ike sat on the pillows by the table, allowing Katy to have the seat on the sofa, and drew seven tiles from the bag. Nothing very useful. Maybe his mind was still addled, but the best he could do to start the game was “ONE.”

Katy immediately played off his word to spell “PHEROMONE.” She grinned impishly as he sighed, and then thought, for a moment, he noticed something in the air.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asked.

“Does ‘Dial’ Soap count?” She stuck her tongue out.

He decided it was his imagination. “CARE” was his next word. Not a good night.

Her turn: “CARESS.” He thought he felt a soft touch crossing his cheek, trailing down his throat and chest. But his shirt was still buttoned and Katy was still on the other side of the table, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He shook his head, drew some tiles, and played on; nothing spectacular.

“PECK” was her next word. He reached up to his mouth, as he was sure he felt unseen lips meet his own.

When she laid down “WHISPER,” there was hot breath in his ear.

“RUFFLE” came up next, and he felt fingers running through his hair. When he stared at Katy, trying to sort this out, she simply raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if something is bothering you or exciting you,” she observed. Even Ike wondered if he was bothered or slightly, slightly . . . was he aroused?

The play continued, even as all of the sensations continued for Ike. After she put down “LIPS,” he felt the sensation of kisses all over his body. “STROKE” made him feel as if a very feminine, yet strong, hand was inside his pants; both his erection and his distraction were growing exponentially.

Katy smiled in a way that made Ike wonder if she knew something, but his head was spinning too much to think really about it. He couldn’t say anything to her: how do you tell a platonic friend who has invited you over for Scrabble for the first time that you are feeling very horny? He would look like some sort of pervert, and he’d lose the only person he’d felt comfortable with since Trish. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the feeling to stop. Each passing moment made him less sure.

“You don’t seem quite on your game tonight,” Katy said, her tone halfway between concern and a friendly taunt. “Or maybe you have more trouble with a flesh-and-blood opponent, one on one, than with a computer screen or in a gym-full of people. But never mind, because this should put the game out of reach for you.”

“DEVELOPS” used up all seven letters on her rack, covered a triple-letter-score square with the “V,” and hit a triple-word-score marker as well. One hundred and sixteen points with one word and a commanding lead, to boot. Ike stared at the board. If he wasn’t feeling more sexual tension than he had in two years, if his body wasn’t reeling from lust-driven hormones and remnants of fear-induced adrenalin, he might have been staring in disbelief. But that came as he looked up.

Katy was wearing a green tube top that hugged her “C”-cups and her slim waste, stopping just short of her black leather slacks that made a second skin over her shapely ass, ending at her high-heel ankle boots. Her soft auburn curls with reddish highlights cascaded over her shoulders and part-way down her back. Her glasses were gone, giving him an enchanting view of her chocolaty-brown eyes with bright green flecks. Ike just sat there, looking up at her, blinking.

“Are you getting the idea,” this was no longer a kid sister speaking, “that this isn’t your everyday Scrabble game?”

Finding himself unable to speak, Ike looked away, down at his own rack. There he saw the word “PUSSY” and looked up to see her full red lips smiling, her legs opening, and her hand with perfectly painted purple nails beckoning him. His only thought was that word, and he pushed the table aside and buried his face in that inviting cleft, smelling the leather, smelling her, and licking as if his tongue could open the seam of her pants and reach the goal. As each second passed, his efforts became more and more fevered, and she appreciated his efforts. One hand, fingers entwined in his hair, was pushing down on his head, encouraging the efforts of his mouth and the friction of the leather against her pussy. The other hand was gently petting his arm.

And his pants were soon opened, and she was stroking gently behind his scrotum.

Suddenly there was a thought in his head: “How is she petting my arm, holding my head, and stroking my balls all at the same . . .” His head popped up, he sat back on his heels with a start, and he stared at her lovely body, including her orange horns and tail. “K-K-K-K-Katy . . .” he stammered.

“Actually, my sweet,” she licked her lips as she purred, “the name is Katrina, Katrina Van Tassel. And I’ve been around for quite a while; haven’t I held up nicely?” She gestured at her body. “I knew a fellow with a name very much like yours up by Tarrytown a couple of centuries ago. The combination of fear and a contest worked very nicely for him, as well. You were already challenging my mind on-line, and when I saw your body, and then heard your story, I thought a similar headless—or at least faceless—encounter might be just the thing. Changed the contest, though. I really didn’t like that swordplay, ‘specially when that Bram was doing most of it. Succubi Scrabble was much better.”

“There was no . . . no . . . s-s-s . . . no creature . . .”

“It’s ‘succubi,’ darling.” She was mildly annoyed, but soon she felt better. After she pushed at his thoughts a little more, then placed his hands on her lap, his preoccupied mind set those hands to work eagerly undoing her fly.

“There was no . . . succubi . . . in ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’.”

“Well, that stuck-up English prig—What’s-his-name Irving—decided the story needed sanitizing. My ending was much better.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. She was glad she did. His lips tasted as sweet as the samplings she’d been taking from his soul all these weeks, and there was a strength to his mouth that she thought she saw but almost didn’t dare hope for. Well worth the wait, to be sure.

As the last bits of his mind completely vaporized, Ike’s tongue began to duel with hers. Her thoughts were beginning to bleed directly into his mind, and his hands had slid around from her fly to her hips, his fingertips still hooked under her waistband. She moved his head down, amused when he tried to suckle her breasts through the tube top—“Oo! So eager! There will be time enough for that later.”—and returned his face to her lap.

“Pull down the pants, sweetness,” she almost giggled, “with your teeth.” And he did. She was impressed with his efficiency, though it may have been that he was inspired. With a few touches, a thought or two, and a bit of cooing, she directed his tongue to exactly the right point. He certainly had some skills; he must have done this with Trish. Mmmmmm . . . very good boy.

For his part, Ike couldn’t believe anyone could taste this wonderful. Then, as he felt the tip of her tail tracing his spine, from his hairline to the crack in his ass, he shivered all the more, which had nothing to do with the fact that his clothing dissolved as her tail touched it. He was lost in deepening spirals of ecstasy.

Katrina’s mind could feel Ike’s thoughts first waver, then flounder for a moment, then swim in the new sensations. And her body appreciated it all as well. She enjoyed how this stimulus made him redouble his efforts, relished the work of his lips, teeth, and tongue, her own pleasure growing until finally her nails were digging into the sofa cushions while he was swallowing her amazing flow.

As she stood over him, he remained kneeling at her feet—“such a good boy,” she thought, smiling. It only took a look to have him slowly peeling her slacks down her legs—again using nothing but his teeth. She let him stand and use his hands to pull the tube top over her head, but with a firm instruction not to touch her body. He didn’t. He skillfully maintained his hands centimeters away from her skin, though something inspired him to gently blow on her skin wherever his hands passed by. He was following instruction to the letter, but also taking some marvelously provocative initiative. Katrina realized that training him was going to be wonderful!

She kissed him deeply again, pulling him close with her tail and taking the time to nibble his neck and lick his chest. Yes, a very tasty morsel, and an eminently enjoyable toy. Without removing her tail from around his waist, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

The next morning, he awoke, spent and pleasantly dazed, in his own bed, in his own apartment, in the Village, quite naked. He felt more alive than he had since losing Trish and, while he couldn’t believe that his memories were real, he was just as sure he didn’t imagine them.

Ike pulled on a robe and padded into the kitchen to find coffee. On the counter, he found a now-familiar Scrabble set, the tiles arranged on the board with a message:


This had all been real! She had been real! And she would be back to collect her board. He felt a small tingle at that thought.

But the tingle was replaced by a much larger wave of ecstasy when he felt her whisper in his ear: “I’ll be back to collect you, as well . . .”

Nov 13 2009

A Gorgeous Succubus Furry Artwork…

I have always wondered what a Succubus/Furry combination might look like…

And now I think I have a pretty good idea of what they might be…

Succubus by Teal Newcomb

This beautiful image is the work of the artist Teal Newcomb. who’s website is at:

And you can find this art for sale here:

I love this art so so so much… The hair and horns are perfect! Looking at it, I does make me think about the AngelKitties in the mythos of the Succubi that I have been working on… She would, I think, look sort of cat-like except for her tail, which obviously isn’t a cat’s tail I think…

There are so many lovely works on his website and I hope you visit him soon!