To those that will read this story, and then moan and complain about my using Succubi for the plural and singular tenses of my characters. Deal with it. This isn’t a story about the traditional Succubus myth. It’s my own. And in my mythos we are Succubi, one and all.
It’s hard to understand addiction unless you have experienced it …
The sun had just begun to set in the Realm when she left her home and started to make her way to were she was supposed to be, but didn’t honestly wish to be. It was the longest walk of her life. Considering that she was one of the Succubi, that was saying something.
It wasn’t the distance itself that was the problem; she could have simply willed herself there in an instant. The problem was that she was going to have to do something she didn’t want to. She would have to tell her story, all of it, and face the slings and arrows of those that would be there. The thought of telling her story, all of it, every awful part that ate at her from within, just did not make the time pass as she walked along.
As she went along, she noticed, here and there, others going this way and that, seemingly happy in their own lives. For the most part, really, nothing caught her attention … until she saw a black tail leading her slave crossing her path.
She stopped and stared at them. The black tail was obviously in control, her long thigh high boots swishing as she walked. Her slave, her pet, her thrall—a male—was being led on his leash a few short steps behind her.
The observer shivered and closed her eyes, hoping to control herself. She hoped for a moment of quiet in her thoughts, a moment to gather her will so she might quietly continue on her way. Instead, she had a flash of a moment, one that both thrilled her and shamed her. She remembered holding court, her thralls whimpering and kneeling around at her feet. Their collars shimmering around their necks, their wills bent … twisted … reshaped and redefined. She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the moan that she knew was coming; a moan growing from her desire to turn, leave, and go back to all of that delicious submission that she held and controlled. The heat within began to boil and she shook as the need to control … command … be worshipped …
“Are you okay?”
The voice shook her away from her thoughts, though the heat was still there, simmering, and an urge bubbled up in her: to take, completely, the one who disturbed her. When she opened her eyes, that thought left as she realized who had spoken. She knew him well, of course she did. He knew exactly what she was going through.
Her reply rode on a sigh: “Hi, Lee.”
He looked at her, his green tail shifting behind him as he did so: “Annnd let me guess: you saw Rachel with her toy and lost it?”
She started walking again: “Didn’t lose it. But if you aren’t careful I’ll make sure you lose it when I scratch this itch.”
He chuckled: “Tempting. Afterwards, maybe, but not now.”
“Great. Now I’ll be horny and wet.”
“Imagine everyone naked. That might help.”
When he didn’t say anything for a few moments, she turned and looked at him, only to see a smirk waiting for her. Her tail arcked away and slapped him on his leg as she added to the sound of it hitting him: “Asshole.”
Rubbing his leg he caught up to her: “Naturally. Part of the job description, after all.”
As they crested a hill, she saw their destination and stopped, Lee bumping into her, making her stumble before he caught her. It was a simple, single story meeting place in the Realm for those that … had a problem.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“No. You’ve come this far. You can get through this.”
“You actually expect me to go there? To tell them? You know what could make this worse?”
“Doing it naked?”
She wrapped her arms around herself: “If she’s there.”
“Well, I don’t expect her to be.”
She looked at the doors, seeing them open, welcoming Succubi here, Incubi there. It looked to be a full house. Terrific.
“If she’s there, I can’t do this, Lee. I’ll fall apart. I know I will.”
He touched her shoulders and turned her away from the scene to look at him: “You won’t. All you have to do is go in there, do it, and walk back out. Easy.”
“Easy is seducing someone, Lee. Easy is finding the right shade of lipstick to use on a certain Incubi I know. This isn’t …”
He chuckled: “It is. You just have to seduce them into listening to you. Just try. Please? And I want to see that lipstick after.”
She pushed him away with resignation in her voice: “Might not ever want to again.”
He didn’t answer that, but followed a short distance behind her and, when she entered the building, he turned and walked through another doorway. He had his own demons to face … in more ways than one.
A little while later, she was looking at a table which had a spread of snacks laid out before her. As she reached for a cookie, her hand paused over a can of Redi-Whip that someone had placed there and her thoughts drifted … again. She remembered using that … more than once … a lot more than once. Dammit, she was wet now, and horny, and …
“Looks like a nice turn out, don’t you think?”
That voice was the one she didn’t want to hear. Her hand shaking now, she picked up one of the cookies and turned it over in her hands to occupy herself. There was no escape now, not with her here.
“Didn’t really notice.”
“I did. Are you alright?”
She managed to take a bite of the cookie to muffle her reply, or, more accurately, to stop it. The sound of the cookie crunching drowned out the sounds around her and she looked to see that the room was, in fact, full, others having found their seats—save for her.
There was one chair left, she knew from the stories she had heard that the one she feared would be there would not be sitting down.
“Do you want some help?”
She shook her head and walked the last dozen steps to the empty chair, dropping into it and continuing to look at the cookie in her hands. She didn’t look up through the introductions, nor did she really want to listen. Having heard the words often enough she could have repeated them from memory.
“Is there anyone that would like to start?”
As always, no one offered. She never went first, it was better to be further down the list so that her own faults and mistakes were drowned out by the mistakes of others.
This time, however, as she looked up, she realized that everyone in the room was looking at her expectantly. Waiting for her to stand up and face the music. Clutching the cookie like a lifeline, she stood up, her tail wrapped around her right leg nervously.
She tried to smile, but that didn’t come easily. But at least the first important words came out in a rush before she could change her mind and run away. “Hello. My name is Stacy, and I am a succubi. It’s been 42 days since I last enslaved someone, and I am trying very hard not to do it again … as tempting as it has been in the past while.”
There was a round of applause from the others in the room, all of them succubi, sitting on their folding chairs; occasionally whispering to each other and listening to Stacy tell her story. They knew what she was fighting against and they were there to commiserate with her and what she was going through.
Just across the floor from Stacy stood a tall, raven-haired succubi. There was no doubting who she was, and Stacy wished that she wouldn’t have been there. It would have been easier. Every Succubi and Incubi in the Realm knew who she was, her red tail swishing in the air as she nodded in approval before urging Stacy on.
“Go on, Stacy … We’re all here to support you.”
She managed a shy smile, “Yes, Tera. Thank you … I need all of the help I can get, honestly.”
She looked over the group seeing a black tail here, a green one there, but—and this was the most frightening thing—she was the only pink tail there. It wasn’t so bad to have to tell about what she had done and might do again. No, the problem was that Tera was standing there and listening to everything she said, as well.
And it wasn’t the easiest thing to disappoint someone who had trusted her and then had to deal with the aftermath of what she had done. She looked at the last piece of the cookie in her hand for a long moment. Where to start? Where to begin?
The answer was in a deep breath, followed by: “My problems started a long time ago, and at the time I really didn’t see a problem with what I was doing …”
Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole.
Yielding is opening the door and inviting her in.
“You have everything? The kitchen sink, too?”
Stacy rolled her eyes at Lee in reply, then just kept stuffing things into her backpack.
Seeing that she wasn’t going to answer, Lee started poking through some of the items that she hadn’t put away as yet: “You know, you could just make this stuff from magic instead of carrying it all with you.”
Grabbing her panties from his hand, she told him: “I’m going to be a normal girl going to a normal university for a normal semester. I’m not going there to flaunt my powers in front of all of them.”
“Why are you doing this again? I mean …” He paused, then continued with a grin: “You might be a little too old to be taught anything.”
She looked over her shoulder and purred: “I can always learn … something.”
He shook his head: “I’m not sure if I should be worried for them or you.”
As the last few things went into the backpack, she sighed: “I’m not going to do anything there. I’d like to learn something new, which I think I will. And … let’s face it, Lee, I need some time away. I need to figure out things somewhere no one will know me.”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
The sound of a zipper closing put a period on that subject, it seemed, as Lee didn’t pursue it further. “If you need something, call me.”
She stretched her arms over her head and walked over to him: “I’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about, and I’m not going to draw attention to myself.”
“No, seriously; if something happens, I want to know. Don’t shut me out.”
“Have I …”
“Yes, you have … a lot.”
“I can look after myself.”
“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying that sometimes you don’t think things through or you try to do something that’s over your tail.”
Stacy’s pink tail moved behind her. Lee knew that particular arc it made, the one that said that she was getting ticked off … rapidly.
“Leave my tail out of this, Lee. Let me try without training wheels, please?”
He reached into a back pocket and then held out a cellphone, offering it to her: “Take this. Call, text, whatever.”
She looked at the phone for a moment, then turned and walked away: “Don’t need it.”
Lee watched her leave the room, then he stuffed the phone deep into her backpack, his next words said to the empty room: “I hope so. But just in case.”
Stacy portalled into a small grove of old trees that stood some distance from the campus proper. She didn’t want to suddenly appear on the campus and have someone see her or walk into her when she appeared out of nowhere. She was supposed to be just another student among many that were there, after all. Drawing attention to herself wouldn’t do any good when all she really wanted was a little bit of normality.
After slinging the backpack over her shoulder, she quickly found her way to the campus registration and waited for her number to be called. Looking at the slip in her hand, she wondered if the universe was having fun at her expense, then shook her head and put her nose back into the book she was reading. She has lost herself in the pages, half listening to the conversations around her, the numbers being called, and so on, but the book was holding most of her attention.
At least until someone took the chair beside her: “Hey.”
Stacy looked up to see who was trying to get her attention, and found a slim Japanese student with shockingly blue hair and a mostly Goth vibe going on looking at her.
She smiled: “Hey, yourself.”
“How long you been waiting?”
Stacy waved the book she was reading: “Four hundred pages … more or less.”
“That’s probably not a good thing, then.”
Stacy closed her book and turned her attention away from it: “I read fast. It’s been about an hour. They don’t seem to be in any rush to get things done.”
Her new companion gave a little snort: “Yeah, well, we’re all the last minute students. They’re trying to wedge us all into the classes that are left. With my luck I’ll get Basket Weaving and Russian Lit.”
Stacy smirked: “Well, I’m pretty good at basket weaving, but the Russian Lit thing will be a problem.” She offered her hand: “Stacy.”
The girl looked at her oddly, then shook it: “Regina.”
“Regina? Don’t tell me: your parents loved Alberta?”
The answer was a punch in the shoulder followed by: “You’re such an idiot, Stacy, even for a blond.” Then she smiled: “Here I thought this place was going to be a pain in the ass, and you’ve proved me right.”
Stacy rubbed her shoulder, not that it actually hurt: “Hey! Am not! You left yourself wide open for that one, you dummy.”
They continued to talk as the numbers were called, the time passing quickly, along with the occasional commentary that they shot at each other over the entire situation. Eventually Regina’s number was called, and she left Stacy, telling her that she’d be back when she was done.
She returned a lot sooner than Stacy expected.
“Hey, Cee? You got a place to stay?”
“No, I don’t … and don’t call me that. I hate that nickname.”
Regina, now knowing what bugged Stacie, of course continued to use it: “Listen, Cee, I need a roomie. There’s not a lot of places left on campus, and they won’t give out a dorm to me without a roomie. Would ya’?”
Stacy thought about it a moment, then replied: “Sure … Ginny.”
“Sure I would. You’re asking for it.”
Regina grabbed Stacie’s backpack and started dragging it over to where she came from: “How the hell did you carry this? Is there a kitchen sink in here?”
Stacy laughed and took it from her: “Nope, left that at home. Come on, let’s see what you’ve gotten me into, Ginny.”
What Stacy had gotten herself into was being roped into a sorority on campus, one of the smaller ones that was so far off the social map that you’d need a flashlight to find it.
They made an odd pair as they stood outside of the oak door to the sorority house—a Japanese Goth chick and an almost stereotypical blonde who was just this side of cutely sexy.
“I can’t believe that you signed me up for basket weaving, Cee.”
“Learn something new, Ginny, and it’s not that hard to do. Besides, it might come in useful someday.”
Stacy couldn’t help the next words: “Like when you want to make a basket, duh.”
Regina opened the door and they stepped inside to see a tall woman with chalk white skin and green hair sitting behind a foldable table and staring off into space. Regina whispered out of the corner of her mouth: “Great … competition for Goth of the House.”
Stacie whispered back: “Be nice, dammit.” Then she turned to the new Goth and said, “Hi! We’re looking for Room 109.”
The Goth looked over, greeting them with a bored expression as she answered: “Upstairs, to the right. Welcome. If you need something, ask. I’m Lisa. Yadda-Yadda.”
Regina started to say something, but Stacie gave her a push with one hand and as they walked past Lisa, Stacy nodded and kept going.
After they had walked up the stairway to the second floor, Lisa looked off to the side and asked: “What do you think?”
The woman in the shadows nodded, but what she looked like or thought about the two new arrivals she didn’t reveal.
Room 109 was just large enough for two to share—assuming that you liked tight quarters with almost no privacy and could ignore all of the traffic that came past the door all of the time.
“Right, Cee. How much crap are you going to stick on the walls?”
“Me? Was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Okay: cards on the table. I only dress like this, Cee. I don’t do the rest of it.”
“Acting up against your parents a little?”
“Maybe. What about you?”
Stacy sighed: “Trying to find myself … trying to learn something of value.”
Regina was in the middle of opening her suitcase and looked at Stacy: “You know, you don’t sound like the blonds I know. They’re all vacant bimbos that come here to fuck.”
Stacy looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a sly grin: “I can do that if you want.”
“Please don’t … just … don’t.”
The blond tossed her backpack on the bed and opened it: “Wasn’t planning to. Look, I don’t want to party, okay? I’m just as happy to read a book all night.”
The smile in the words was very clear: “Bookworm.”
Stacy waved a book at her: “Yup. Seriously addicted.”
They didn’t say much of anything else for a while, though splitting the closet space and drawers required several rounds of rock-paper-scissors. Regina finished long before Stacie and helped for a time, but then stopped and asked: “Well, I didn’t find the kitchen sink in here, but I found this. You been looking for it?”
Stacy walked over and saw that Regina was holding a green cellphone in her hand and looking at it oddly: “There’s no keypad on it. Weird.”
“Who’s Lee? Ex-boyfriend? Stalker? Pain in the ass?”
She took the phone: “No, Ginny. You get the ‘pain in the ass’ label.”
“Thank you. I work hard at that. But, seriously: who’s Lee?”
Stacy traced a finger over the phone as she explained: “He’s a good friend. I’ve known him since … forever.”
“Friend-friend or Friend-boyfriend?”
The look she gave Regina, her blue eyes glinting slightly, sent a shiver up Regina’s back: “I trust him with my life.”
Regina had an odd look, then nodded: “Okay. So, why the phone?”
Thinking a minute, Stacy walked over to her side of the dresser and opened the bottom drawer: “Look where I’m putting this, Ginny.” After it was put away, she became very serious: “If something happens to me. I want you to dig that phone out, hold it in your hand, and just say Lee’s name.”
“What could possibly happen?”
“Just promise me. If something happens, call him, okay? He’ll be here sooner than you think.”
The knock at the door interrupted Regina’s answer, but as she opened the door she replied: “Okay. I will.”
Standing on the other side of the door was a tall woman with purple hair wearing a corset and jeans.
When she didn’t get an answer, she looked at time both: “I’m Mary, you can think of me as the Mistress of the house.”
Stacy and Regina looked at each other and thought the same thing: “She’s going to be trouble.”
They really had no idea how right they both were at that moment.
You can’t defend the indefensible – anything you say sounds self-serving and hypocritical.
Stacy was lying in bed reading when the door swung open and Regina stormed into the room: “You have to be kidding me! What a bitch!”
Putting the cheap mystery novel to the side—and just as the killer was about to be revealed—Stacey answered: “What now?”
“I’ve been told that if I don’t … ‘fit in’ … I’m going to be ‘taught how to.’”
Stacy looked at her: “The mistress of the house throwing her weight around again?”
This was an ongoing problem for both Stacy and Regina since they moved into the dorm. Mary had criticized everything about each of them … repeatedly. Stacy wasn’t bothered all that much; in truth, she was a lot older than she looked and didn’t care much for Mary’s attitude in the first place. However, the ongoing threats, taunts, and jibes where clearly wearing on Ginny, and that was getting to Stacy.
And ticking off one of the Succubi was never a good idea.
“According to her, the sorority needs to ‘have a single look’ so that ‘we,’ read she, can move up in the social stratus here.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll assume your answer was a single finger pointed in her direction?”
“Both hands … twice … plus telling her to kiss my ass.”
“Nice. Miss Manners would be very proud of you.”
“Bite me, Cee.”
Stacy got out of her chair and walked over to Ginny: “Not my style and you know it. What does she want you to do, anyway?”
“Attend some sort of meeting with her and the rest of the dorm; something about learning the rules and how to live by them.”
“She didn’t mention you. I figured that she already snapped at you, she was waiting for me at the front door.”
Stacy rubbed her right hand against her cheek: “First I’ve heard of this.”
“Well that’s not at all ominous.”
“Mmm. I think I’m going to have a talk with her. Want to come?”
“Hell no! I don’t need to see her again today. I have my first test in basket weaving tomorrow morning. So do you.”
Stacy smiled: “I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops. Then we can cram for the test.”
“You’d better. You seem to be the expert on them.”
Stacy walked out the door: “I’ve had a few years to practice.”
Assuming that Mary would be still downstairs, Stacy made her way there and found Lisa in her usual spot by the door.
“Lisa. Where’s Mary?”
“Mistress is holding court.”
Stacy looked at the stairs she just came down with a sigh: “Great. Thanks.”
That, of course, meant walking all the way up to the top floor, which Mary had reserved for her exclusive use. As she made her way, Stacy mulled over what she had seen around her during the past month. There were clear signs that something was going on, something that she didn’t particularly like. With the exception of herself and Ginny, all of the other girls were submissive to Mary’s will. That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad, and she could accept that they had decided on their own, to be submissive to her. No, what Stacy didn’t like was that Mary was trying to bend Ginny and herself to being submissive to her.
Stacy could have used her powers—and had been tempted many times, just to show Mary what dominance really was like—but held herself in check. Not so much for herself, but for Ginny. The dreams that Ginny had—all of them, erotic and otherwise—held Stacy’s heart, and she didn’t want to lose her. Having a lot more sense, she should have gathered up her things, grabbed Ginny, and left this place, and the overbearing woman in control of it. But she couldn’t. The mystery of what was going on got deeper and deeper the longer she looked into it. The most telling thing of all was that, as far she could sense from those dreaming around her, only Ginny had dreams. Everyone else didn’t.
She wanted to know why.
Coming to the top of the stairs, Stacy arrived at the double doors that marked the way into Mary’s domain. Not for the first time, she regretted allowing herself to come here with Ginny. Not for the first time, she regretted trying to talk to this … woman.
The door swung open at her touch, and what greeted Stacy was another of the sorority’s sisters sitting at tables and reading.
“Mistress is busy. Please come back later.”
“Sorry. She’ll make time for me.”
With another few steps, Stacy walked into Mary’s office, which, of course, was lavishly furnished and looked like something out of Better Mansions and Playrooms, the magazine of the rich and overbearing.
There, sitting on the edge of a ridiculous desk, her legs dangling over the edge, was Mary. Still wearing that corset from the first time they met, holding a crop in one hand and tapping it in her other hand. Stacy was getting sick and tired of that purple mane and the attitude that accompanied it.
Mary did not even look at Stacy as she replied: “Wait your turn.”
It was then that Stacy saw two members of the sorority on their knees to Mary’s right. It was the first real proof that something bad was going on: collars and glazed eyes were never a good thing. Gritting her teeth, Stacy answered Mary’s order by marching past the two lemmings that were fawning over Mary before she unceremoniously yanked the crop from Mary’s hand.
“Your manners need work. We’ll have to do something about that.”
Stacy looked Mary directly in the eyes: “Manners? Really? How about my attitude and complete dislike for you, Mary? Or how about just how much I’d like to give you an attitude adjustment?” Stacy glanced at the crop out of the side of her eyes, then placed it directly underneath Mary’s chin: “You think you’re an expert with this? You’re laughable.”
Mary replied: “You will pay for that, for every word and action you and that Goth toy that lives with you have perpetrated since you arrived.”
Stacy’s answer was cold: “You, do not deserve any respect, not from either of us. You haven’t earned it.”
“Why should I earn it when I can force you both?”
That threat ended the niceties as far as Stacy was concerned: “You have no idea what you are playing with, Mary. Back off, right now, while you have the chance.”
Mary’s attitude was one where she believed she held all the cards: “There’s only one Domme here: that’s me. You’ll fall into line just like everyone here. You have no other choice. If you don’t play by my rules willingly, then I’ll just have to make you both do so.”
“I’m warning you, Mary. Hands off Ginny.”
“You mean Regina don’t you?”
“Cross me at your peril, Mary. Touch her and you’ll regret it forever.”
Mary smirked: “A bimbo like you? I’ve broken so many of you little playthings. I’ll have her and I’ll get you in the bargain.”
Stacy’s eyes narrowed: “Take your shot, but make it a good one. You won’t get a second one.”
Mary didn’t say anything as Stacy tossed the crop to the far side of the room and then walked away. As Stacy walked out the door, Mary called out: “You and Regina will be kneeling at my feet. And you will call me ‘Mistress.’”
She was answered by the slamming of the door and Stacy’s footfalls on the oak floor as she left.
Moments later, Stacy called out as she returned to her dorm room: “Hey, Ginny? How’s that basket weaving coming?”
What she found was Ginny sitting cross-legged on the floor, a partially made basket in her hands and staring off into space. Stacy called out: “Ginny?”
Ginny slowly turned her head and looked at Stacy. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that something had happened to Ginny while Stacy was confronting Mary. The glazed look in her eyes would have been a surefire clue, but there was a more telling one …
… “My name is Regina, Stacy. Mistress explained, didn’t she?”
Before Stacy could answer a hand put something over her nose and mouth while others took her arms, holding her in place.
The last thing that Stacy saw was Ginny smiling at someone behind her and reverently whispering the word … “Mistress.”
TO BE CONTINUED