The Tangled Succubus Web Ch 01

Thank you for reading my story. This novel is heavily inspired by, if not a love letter, to the fanmade module "A Dance with Rogues" that was created for the game Neverwinter Nights. You don't need to have played the module to enjoy this novel, as important plot points will be explained - and if you HAVE played the module, several original storylines and content will be added, as well as modifications being made to the original story, so it isn't strictly true to the source material. If you have played the module, for example, you'll note the introductory scenes with the MMC are quite different. Nevertheless, it is still a homage to the module in itself and I hope you enjoy this story!

Neither the FMC or MMC in this story are particularly "good" people and it very much fits the "I can make him/her worse" trope.

There are themes of fantasy/romance, orgasm denial and edging in this story. Other tags may be added later.

Chapter One

A line of kisses trailed down the planes of her stomach, rough stubble teasing at her bare skin as those lips dipped further, further. Inching towards her hips, her inner thighs, her sex.

Iris sighed and fluttered her eyes shut. Craned back into the pillows as her fingers twined around her guard's short honey blond hair. He licked at her hip bone. Nipped gently at her skin and then nuzzled into her flesh just below her navel.

A quick flick of his tongue against her clit drew a sharp little gasp from her throat, and he chuckled and repeated the motion until she squirmed breathlessly under him. He sat up on her pretty four poster bed and pulled her towards him until her legs splayed over his bare thighs. His hard cock dragged up her sex, slipped through her wetness but never entered her and only teased his reddened tip against her clit.

"I love your pretty shaved cunt," he said, and thrust up her slit again. Rubbed her bundle of nerves once more until her breath caught in her throat in a soft little moan. His crown was weeping with each movement, mixing with her own wetness until every jerk was slicker than the last. "Most girls don't bother."

"I'm glad you like it," she replied. Craned her head down to watch him slowly slide his cock through her folds and against her aching clit, each bump against her nerves sending her higher and higher. Clambering for that peak that was just out of reach.

Nevertheless it was a lie. She didn't care if he liked the way her cunt looked. If anything, the fact her king father had always forced their servants to remove all her body hair had grown unbelievably tiresome over the years. No explanation had ever been given, other than she had to be

clean

. Youthful. Pure. All those things he claimed would get their kingdom a better political marriage.

Because she had no other worth beyond her purity and her fertility. Her older brother would be king one day, and she would be relegated to being whisked away in a loveless match to an invariably older husband. She would squeeze out a few heirs to some foreign ruler, and then live the rest of her life in a pretty gilded cage. Bored, but cared for and pampered. And all those things that were expected of her... she really didn't give a shit about them in the slightest, otherwise she wouldn't have her latest guard currently thrusting his hard cock against her slit.

He wasn't the first. Just one of many in a long line of lovers she'd enjoyed and toyed with over the years since she started to realise she could use her body to get what she wanted when she was eighteen. But he was the most insistent on trying to convince her to let him fuck her cunt - the one thing she couldn't risk or compromise. All the others had been content with her ass, mouth or hands - but this one, Theo, he was

persistent

. He was younger than the others, perhaps that was why. He was in his mid twenties, only a couple years older than hers of twenty one.

"Come on, princess," he said, and nudged his crown against her entrance. "Just one time? You finished your cycle two days ago, the risk of me putting a baby in your belly is so low."

Iris flashed him a stern look, the heat that had been building in her body filtering away. "You know the priests bespelled my cunt to bleed profusely the second someone penetrates me deeply for the first time. The servants will find out when I stain the sheets, and even if they don't - whoever my father forces me to marry will realise the night of our wedding when he takes what he feels is his. The political ramifications would be

quite

awkward."

Theo scowled but relented anyway and returned to rubbing his slick cockhead against her clit. "I just want to feel you entirely, princess. Your ass and mouth are fun, but it's not the same."

"Then you better get used to it, or I'll find someone else to play with," she said. Let the tiniest bite of a threat linger in her words.

He wouldn't be the first guard she had dismissed for annoying her and pushing for more. It wasn't difficult. Her maids were crafty - a single well placed expensive piece of jewellery and she had many previous lovers arrested and thrown out of her father's guard. The ones that threatened her with revealing the things she'd done in bed had met less pleasant ends than simply becoming disgraced mercenaries for hire. A vial of well placed poison in a cup did wonders for silencing anyone who dared out her. The last one was still a gibbering wreck who couldn't even control his own bladder, let alone spill her secrets.

Theo huffed a sigh, but dropped the subject, his thrusts quickening. That familiar heat built within her again and she craned back into the bed sheets once more. Curled her hand into his hair when he bent forward and suckled her breasts in time with his cock rubbing her clit until she shattered.

She came with a soft little sigh, her back arching and her lips parting as she held him tight to her chest. He passed his hand along his shaft in a few quick motions. Spilled himself seconds later over her belly in thick sticky ropes as a groan rumbled in the back of his throat, his release pooling in the dip of her stomach. It was easier to clean up than when she let him fuck her ass, at least.

When her high faded, she rolled out from underneath him and grabbed a washcloth, then wiped away his seed. He slapped her ass and grinned as she paraded around her magnificent bedroom entirely naked, then shrugged into a pretty silken dressing robe.

"Tell my servants to draw me a bath, will you?" she told Theo as he tucked himself away once more and did up the laces of his trousers.

"I thought you liked being covered in the stench of me," he teased.

She gave him a flat look. Rolled her eyes. "There are many things I like about you, but the smell of your cum definitely isn't one of them."

And all of the things she did like could be summarised entirely by his physical form, because his personality was sorely lacking. But his tight ass, considerably endowed cock and broad muscular chest excused much. She hadn't slept with any of her guards over the years for any reason other than physical attraction or her own personal gain. None of her father's men were remotely intelligent or interesting to converse with.

Theo threw a hand against his forehead. "You wound me, princess."

"Yes, I'm sure. Now hurry up, I'm tired and I want to sleep when I'm done bathing."

He bowed graciously and left her room. Her servant joined a few minutes later and prepared the bath she'd requested, filling it with lavender oils, scented soaps and that special shampoo the healers had always prescribed for her for her sensitive scalp.

When she was done and her servant brought her a cotton white nightgown, the first of the crashes in the distance rumbled through the brickwork of the palace.

Iris frowned, and then she heard the banging on her door and the panicked shouts growing louder with each passing second.

He expected there to be more screaming, more panicked people rushing through the corridors. But there wasn't.

The Dhorn's takeover of the city - and castle - had been swift and brutal, Betancuria's army barely stood a chance. There were only mangled corpses in the palace corridors as he stalked through them. Most had their throat cut, a few less fortunate victims and had been disembowelled or slit from hip to clavicle. But all of them were long dead. Even the king, queen and crown prince were little more than bloody bodies strewn across the marble throne room floor. Which was a shame, because Vico had been looking forward to gutting the king himself.

There was no other reason why he had broken into the castle that night. The second he realised Betancuria's army was failing against the Dhornish invasion and the castle had fallen, he found his way in through the servant passages. Prayed that maybe the king would somehow still be alive for him to take his vengeance. But he wasn't, and with an irritated glower painting his features, Vico turned to leave the massacre in the throne room and return home where he intended on getting thoroughly drunk - until he saw a shadow move in the corner.

He had come across a couple of Dhornish stragglers on his way in and dispatched the lot of them with a swift swipe of his blades. One had put up slightly more of a fight and managed to nick his cheek with a tiny cut. But whoever was hiding in those shadows right now wasn't an invading soldier. A lucky servant, maybe?

Vico stepped closer. Wiped at the bloody cut on his cheek until his palm stained red, and peered behind the throne.

There were scorch marks set deep into the stone, he wondered how long they'd been there for they seemed to carve inches into the brickwork. Didn't really matter though, because it was there, hiding in the shadows, that he found her.

Luscious blonde hair spilling down her back, green eyes and skin smelling sweetly of lavender. The daughter of the man he hoped to kill peered back at him - the daughter of the tyrant king. A king who had inadvertently killed so many of Vico's friends when he waged war on Dhorn, their neighboring kingdom, without a care in the world for how it would affect the common people caught in the crossfire. So many people had died in the streets tonight alone when the Dhornish armies enacted their brutal and swift takeover of Betancuria.

Vico had seen the princess a few times before in the streets accompanied by her guards. Seen her pictures. Paintings. Heard the folk tales. She was impossible to mistake, and even more beautiful than the portraits they made of her.

And he hated her.

He hated what she stood for. Hated every sniff of luxury that was etched into her flawless pale skin and flowing hair - every mark of the things he had never been able to afford as a youth, and now he could it all rang hollow. But most of all, he hated her father for the pointless war of greed he started. And that hatred of the king was enough to override everything else.

A familiar surge awoke in his veins, dark and festering and burning through his body. Feeding off his hate, and something more primal, more urgent - that thing he'd bargained with long ago rearing its ugly head.

The princess was only wearing a thin nightgown that barely covered her tits or her ass. She gazed up at Vico, perhaps trying to work out if he was friend or foe, because his leather armor marked him as neither. Her full pink lips parted, but no words fell out as she noted the distaste upon him.

Vico sneered. Grabbed her by her silky blonde hair, and smashed her head into the brick wall.

He hoped she cried when he gutted her. He was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

Her ears were ringing as she came to, matching the splitting headache ripping through her. It felt like she was in a vice that was being tightened second by second, and as she opened her eyes, her vision blurred as she struggled to her feet.

She was in one of the storerooms in the palace basement. There was a hazy figure leant back against the brick wall before her. As her eyesight corrected, she made out more of him - he was far taller than her. Taller than most of her father's guards. His jet black hair hung loosely around his face, partially shadowing his features such that the only thing she could make out were a pair of dark eyes glinting back at her and rough stubble across his jaw. The leathers stretching across his muscled body were just as inky as his hair and he was playing with a small sword, idly flicking his thumb across the tip in practised movements.

There was a vicious hint in his eyes that didn't seem to be from this world. A maddened, feral thing. He looked more akin to the beasts her father liked to keep from time to time - the tigers and lions that would endlessly pace their cells, desperate to escape until insanity finally claimed them and her father had them disposed of.

"Our little princess finally decides to come round and join us," he said as his dark eyes appraised her. "Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you were dead."

The back of her head stung and as she raised her hand up to her hair she found blood matted deep into her locks. "Who are you?"

"That depends."

"You're not one of my father's guards," she said carefully. "Nor are you Dhornish."

He snorted. "Clever girl. Guess all those years of expensive tutoring at the palace managed to drill some modicum of brains into your vapid fucking head."

She bristled and stood up, bracing her arms across her chest. For a brief moment his dark eyes flicked to her body, but then trailed back to his dagger as he idly toyed with the sharp tip.

"Where are my guards?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "All dead. Along with your family and most of the servants. Although I expect you already knew that, given I found you cowering over their bloody corpses. Curious how you didn't seem to have shed a single tear over your dear parent's or brother's demise."

She didn't even remotely care. Wasn't capable of it, not after the childhood she'd had. She hated all three of them, even her mother. He continued softly, "Did you know there was a girl working in your kitchens called Shanna? Beautiful little thing, only just turned eighteen. She had these big brown eyes you could lose yourself in and forget for a time what a fucking shithole this world is."

"I didn't know her."

"The Dhorn soldiers slit her from belly to nape. I found her desperately trying to stuff her guts back inside her belly." His features darkened. "She was such a pretty girl. Prettier than you, that's for certain, and she didn't even have people waiting on her every second of her life to pamper her and make her look beautiful."

"I'm sorry she died. She must have been important to you," she offered. He didn't so much as flinch or react, just maintained that impassive, calculating look.

"You have to take me to safety," she said. "I am your princess. You are obliged to serve me."

"You're princess of a pile of rubble and ashes, sweetheart," he sneered. "I don't owe you shit, and I sure as hell am not going to kneel at your feet and worship you."

"There will be Dhornish soldiers crawling all over the city, if they find me -"

"They'll gut you, or perhaps lock you up and marry you off to a lovely Dhornish prince so he can put a child in your belly and claim your throne with less resistance. Will you cry as they slit you open, I wonder? What about when your future betrothed rapes you until his seed takes root in your womb?"

She blanched. Not that she needed him to explain her options. "There are neighbouring kingdoms who will pay you well for my safety."

He laughed and pulled away from the wall. Twirled his blade in his hand. "It's cute how you think I give a shit about money. I have enough of it. Far more than I need."

In one swift movement, he crossed the distance between them. Pushed his blade against her throat and pinned her to the wall with one hand clasping her wrists above her head. The scent of him was like smoke and leather. Had he not been holding his dagger to her throat, she would have called him handsome for the sharp cut of his cheekbones and jaw were beautiful.

"Please," she breathed. Gazed up into those dark eyes with practised pleading. The same look she'd flashed every of her father's men to give her what she wanted - the fleeting moments of freedom her father repeatedly denied her. "I'll give you anything."

His dark eyes tracked down her body, settled on her breasts where the thin cotton material of her nightgown barely covered them. His throat bobbed, a hunger awakening in his features that she was all too familiar at manipulating to her advantage.

For a long time he simply stared. Silent. Unmoving. Every muscle in him turned rigid like he was debating something. So she shifted her shoulder, let her nightgown slip down and show her collarbone. The hunger in him flashed, surged.

His dagger shifted. The sharp tip slipped under the fabric of her nightgown, sheared the material until it fell further down her body and exposed one of her breasts. Those dark eyes tracked down her body. The edge of his blade grazed underneath her breast just hard enough that she sucked in a breath, her stomach drawing back and away from his knife.

"Such pretty flawless pale skin. You haven't worked a single day out in the sun. It would be a shame if the Dhorn marred your complexion," he murmured.

"Please," she repeated. "You can have whatever you want."

Dark eyes fixated on her face again. Unreadable. But the clasp on her wrists loosened and fell away entirely. "You have no idea what I want."

"Yes, I do." Her hand trailed down his body, grazed down below his navel and over his already half hard cock. "You want what every man lusts after when they look at me."

His eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as she palmed him harder. Felt him stiffen and press tightly against his leathers. She leant up and drew his earlobe into her mouth. Hooked her fingers in his and cupped his hand to her bare breast. Suckled gently on the sensitive skin of his neck and whispered, "You can have me if you take me to safety after."

A low noise rumbled in his throat. His thumb brushed across her nipple, teased it until it was pert and flushed.

He didn't say anything. Simply threw the dagger to the cobblestone floor, and then turned her roughly. Pushed her flush against the wall. Cold brick bit into her skin and breasts as he yanked up her nightgown and kicked her legs wider apart.

His cock pressed against her seconds later, nudging at her entrance with urgency - he hadn't even so much as filled her yet, but she could already feel he was considerable. She twisted her head, managed to steal a glance over her shoulder and muttered, "You don't have to be so harsh."

One of her hands slipped between her legs, seeking out that spot that would make her tremble, lower, lower -

He grasped her by her hips, brushed his lips against her ear until the scent of him filled her every breath. A small little moan slipped from her throat as she dragged a finger over her clit, teased herself until she started to become wet and her hips undulated to draw him inside and fill her void. That noise she offered up seemed to shatter something in him.

A hand clasped around both of her wrists. Wrenched her touch away and held her arms above her head.

She glowered as he pushed the tip of his length just barely inside her, aching to tend to her swollen clit. "Asshole. You could at least let me touch myself when you fuck me, seeing as I highly doubt you'll bother."

"You will do no such thing. I have absolutely no intention of making this enjoyable for you - this is a transaction for my help, not a pleasant fuck for your benefit," he spat and sank entirely into her. Tore a moan from her throat as he stretched her, filled her in a way no one ever had before - and god's but it felt beautiful. "I have no desire to watch you come on my cock, and if you so much as start to clench that pretty little cunt of yours, I'll pinch your clit so hard every ounce of pleasure that filters through you will be replaced with pain."