I wrote this ages ago, and have never shown it to anyone. Not the prettiest story I've ever penned, I must say. But, some may enjoy it
The inside of apartment 667 looks absolutely nothing like the rest of the units in the complex. Stoneworks from a local quarry have been imported to cover the soundproofing material coated on every surface, save the ceiling. Candles burn where electric lights used to be, their red wax coating the wall behind them, and creating circular puddles of red wax on the floor all over the place, random patterns in the swirls of it. The fridge, television, and stove seem out of place in the medieval apartment unit, but more so does the single occupant. Twenty years old, and disturbingly beautiful βin an almost offensive way- she kneels on the ground, iron manacles around her wrists, and obviously over-heavy chains leading up to the ceiling.
Dozing fitfully, she's an image of angelic beauty, the perfect damsel in distress, and the ultimate toy. Which is apparently her roll, as the only shred of clothing on the poor girl is a delicate belt slung over her bare hips, soft leather woven and carved in intricate runes that would seem Celtic to a casual observer but date much further back. Her head slowly rises with sad tears rimming her eyes as a lock clicks somewhere in the apartment, and the front door creaks open, the wooden rim (thickened with a metal plate in the middle...) coming into sight, and then out again as the door slams shut. "Honey, I'm home..." comes a gentle, crooning, definitely male voice, the sound invoking a shiver in the girl.
Middle aged, balding, dressed in what are obviously a construction-workers clothes, the once-handsome man walks into the room, and looks down at the girl as he approaches. "Have a good day, baby?" he asks in a voice dripping with sarcasm, the mocking tone in his voice finally goading the girl into action again. In a flash her skin flushes to a deep, midnight black... Not a skin tone but actually the absence of color... So black that she almost gleams with a polish. Serrated bat wings spring from her back as claws slice out of her fingertips, turning hands into long talons that instantly lunge in his direction as she throws herself at him. Unfortunately she only hits the edge of the chains limit, three feet short of the man as he shies back in reflexive terror, and bounces back to her former place by the wall, snarling in a language no human has ever fully understood. Screaming obscenities and curses that actually mean something, she tries again and again, rattling her chains and pulling dust from the ceiling where the chains are anchored, to no great effect. One final titanic effort has her stretching at the extreme edge of the chains limits, arms pulled back behind her in a painful stretch, wings flapping as her clawed feet scratch at the floor, trying to make that two more inches she needs to reach her laughing captor.
But he merely smiles mockingly at her in a display of teeth not nearly rivaling hers, and raises a heavy calloused hand to her side, patting her on one of those delicious flexed thighs as she strains forward. "Easy honey, you're going to need your energy tonight..." he mutters with terrible inflection, overdoing it in his bid for a dangerous tone. The hand drops to his own crotch, grabbing the bulge of his jeans and lifting it lewdly at her. "Cherenkov pietstu plats plar!" he says suddenly, in a sound that rips at the throat, and actually causes him physical discomfort.
It bears instant response from her, as her skin slicks down to normal again, wings disappearing in a puff of actual smoke, claws retracting into fingers that close over them, and dangerous undertones disappearing as she becomes a rather sad victim in appearance again, the physical transformation seeming to sap her of strength as she sags forwards again, dropping to her knee's once more, hair falling over her face in a veil. Winking at her, and flicking a finger harshly against one of her breasts, he turns, and tracks from the room, whistling some tune. He can be heard in the next room, wandering around with thumping footsteps, and occasional curses, the clink of glasses, and finally, the slamming of something heavy on the ground.
Casually strolling back in without a shred of clothing on, he winks at her, before walking over to the harsh wooden table in the room and leaning over it. Muttering something else that seems ripped from his throat, he picks up a thin necklace with an odd pentagral symbol on the chain, and slings it over his neck. Turning back to her thus adorned, he grins in the first truly evil smile, despite his efforts to that effect, and stalks towards her. The demoness shirks away from him, no sense of her earlier malice, power, or anger left in her. Just fear. "Where do I want to fuck you today...?" he asks harshly, leaning over to grab her hair in that thick fist, he pulls her head back. "Any requests?"
At her muted lack of a response, he shrugs as if he doesn't care, moving her head rather roughly as he does, and yanks her head back suddenly, the succubus arching her back in an attempt to alleviate the pressure on her spine. Leaning down over her, he curls a hand roughly around the up thrust breast she's offering him, and sardonically plays with it, rolling the heavy softness around in his hand, squeezing it with unwashed fingers after a days long work, and eventually gripping the ring through her nipple and tugging at it. As she gasps, he squeezes her tit once more, and as she gasps in pain, he grabs her lower jaw.
"Thanks for making up my mind..." he says as he pulls back on her hair, and down on her jaw, opening her mouth wide. Soft noises escape from the back of her throat as his hips move against her face, and he deftly drops his semi-erect dick in her gaping mouth. "Krash negul... Don't bite." The soft order is given calmly, and then he let's go of her jaw, though he retains his rough hold on her hair. Loosening it for a moment, he winds his hand around a few times to curl her long hair in his fist, and the pulls back again, as she tries to open as wide as possible around the stiffening cock, desperately trying to touch it as little as possible... an abject failure of an attempt.
Tugging her head backwards he steps around in front of her, knee's pressing against her sides under her upraised arms, before he loosens his hold on her again, though not letting go. "Ready to do this on your own?" he asks while pulling out of her mouth, stroking himself calmly into full hardness as he awaits her response. A slight flash of flame behind her eyes is his answer as she glares up at him for a second, and clamps her mouth shut. "Good. Because I have more fun forcing you." Pulling back on her hair again, he wrestles with her for a moment, before clamping two fingers over her nose.
A long minute passes, before she gasps for breath through her mouth, giving him all the opportunity he needs to stab forward with his dick, sliding between her lips too fast for her to stop him, and that verbal command somehow stopping her from closing her teeth. Her eyes slip closed in defeat as he releases her nose, gusts of desperate breath flaring her nostrils slightly as he reinforces his hold on her hair, closing his fist tightly in a strong grip. "Fun....fun fun fun..." he mutters happily, as he starts pulling her head back and forth, sliding his thick member in and out of her lips despite the tensed resistance from her neck, trying her absolute best to remain still, and only serving to fuel his desire.