The Cult Of The Lamia Ch 04

"Are you going to sign the paperwork or not? It has to be done, and you need the money."

Mark sighed. He ended up suing the hospital, just because he needed the money. Before he was kidnapped, he was a full time employee at a petrol station, and he got the bare minimum to get him through the week. With this money- that he would get for suing both the hospital and the police force for declaring him dead, and for putting him in for an autopsy when he wasn't- he could buy his own house, instead of rent, and live easily. He remembered his last meeting with the lawyer.

He walked into the room, full of expensive furniture. He had met the lawyer before; she was more than moderately attractive, and there was something about her that he found more than merely attractive. Every now and then he could see an otherness about her, in the way she dealt with men, particularly her husband. She was tall, and dirty blonde. Her face was hard, but not in an unattractive sense. She had ice blue eyes that made him wonder how they looked when she came.

Her lips were full, but her face was not ridiculously made up. She tended to dress in a masculine fashion, given that she wore skirts. Her clothes made her harder, colder. Mark, from the very second he met her, found her to be a challenge he wanted to vanquish. Her distance and strangeness made him want to have her, to possess her, in every sense, and make her as feminine as he could.

She stood as he entered, her very stance hopeful; she was adept at hiding her thoughts, given that she didn't know he could read them. Even so, he knew she was more than mildly attracted to him, and that she physically responded each time she was in the same room as he was. Even when she talked to him, he could feel her desire, despite the fact that he couldn't hear her thoughts over the phone.

She smiled at him, lighting up her face. "Hello, Mr Erickson. Please." She motioned at a chair, opposite her on the board room table. Mark caught a stray thought- she liked this table. He caressed it lightly, and she saw herself, lying across the rich wood, her shirt open, and her knees around her head. She started, visibly, but she was too much the professional to let on what she wanted. It hadn't really been hard to push her in that direction.

"Your case against both the police and the hospital is going well; the police's lawyer has offered you this. I think we can get more." She looked at him expectantly.

He glanced at the figure: $450000. "How exactly would you get more? That seems like a fair amount."

She smiled at him; a predatory look. It reminded him of someone else. "Not really. You could have had an autopsy performed on you while you were still alive. Any jury or judge that his is placed in front of is likely to award you far more than six figures.

"The hospital is trying to pass off all blame onto the police," she continued," who found the body, but if that is taken to court, it will go our way- one would assume that a hospital would not take at face value a dead man who looks alive." She could not hide the quick flick that her eyes did, up and down his body, her eyes undressing him. He nodded, smiling on the inside. "It seems that everything is in hand then, Mrs Marcos. Inform me about all further offers." He stood to leave.

"Not quite yet, Mr Erikson. We haven't discussed payment, nor have you signed off on any documents with us yet."

He turned around, to find her standing next to him, far closer than was strictly necessary. Thoughts were flying off her; he caught her dreaming of straddling him in her office, even fucking her in front of her husband. She fought her mind back on to topic, reaching into her briefcase. She started when he closed his hands over her wrists. She froze, her entire body going rigid. Her mind was silent.

"Danielle, why don't you simply let this happen? You have desires, needs, that Nathan knows nothing about, yes? You have wanted men, but done nothing. This is wrong."

She was breathing erratically, her eyes huge. Her mouth was open; he closed the distance between his mouth and hers, letting go of her wrists. Let it be her choice, he thought.

"You neglected yourself, Danielle. Your husband would love you for learning more about yourself, and you would learn that he is the only one you want. You need to fuck someone else, just so that you know his is the only cock you will ever need."

Her gaze tightened, and she slapped him with everything she had. He didn't recoil, just followed the force of the blow. When he returned to look at her, she was staring at him, her expression hateful. She lunged at him, her lips requesting violence as they came into contact with his face. Her hands tore at his clothes, as he lifted her easily. He bore her back onto the table, spreading her legs with his own in one movement. She leant into him, her eyes closed in ecstasy as he ran his tongue and his teeth against her earlobe. She panted loudly into his ear, before biting his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He forced his pants down, and took himself out, his cock standing hard up against his stomach. He withdrew, knowing that she wanted to see it, to compare him.

Her eyes lit up when she saw it, her lips curving. He could see her husband's cock in her mind, see how it was not exactly the biggest going around. But he saw how she loved it when her husband fucked her, and how she loved him. But it had never stopped her eyes from wandering, her mind from wondering. And now he would give her what she craved.

She got off the table, and removed her panties, taking care not to remove the suspenders that held up her stockings. She looked at him, one hand rubbing at her clit, the other unbuttoning her shirt. Her breasts were gorgeous, bigger than d-cup. He caught her desire; she wanted him in more places than he could possibly manage at once. He stepped towards her, and willed her to feel everything. His hands, rubbing her clit hard, meeting her desire to have him conquer her, to have him hurt her. His teeth, biting her hard enough to mark her, to betray this sin to her husband. His tongue, licking her entrance and penetrating it deeply enough for her to come from the sheer force of sensation.

He traced her breasts with his hands, as she moaned, crippled from the pleasure of his mind. She came, over and over, her desire growing with each, her orgasm intensifying. He gave her everything, every fantasy she had ever had, had it happen to her in her mind. He positioned his cock at her entrance, and thrust in forcefully.

She came back to herself, and she tensed around his cock, her eyes searching for his. He kissed her hard again, forcefully, to erase the fear he found in them. He penetrated her deeply and slowly with every thrust, growing slower and slower. He played with her orgasm, building it before breaking it down again. She panted at him, "My god, what are you?!"

He thrust into her, harder and harder. She bit his shoulder, her hands pulling him in, deeper and deeper, her legs widening. Her heels hammered against his behind, and she moaned into his ear, "Oh fuck, come, please come!"

He kept fucking her, but in his mind, he stopped. He hadn't come, from any sex he had had since he became an incubus, not once. He could feel it though, for the first time; this was one of the rare women who could make him, as he was now, come. He felt her begin to finish around him, and he held it off, letting it build around him.

She erupted, her pleasure burning her inside, a hint of his nature coming out in him. He tasted her energy, drinking deeply, her orgasm wonderful. She was intoxicating, and Mark realised he had found the first woman he could make into a succubus.

He stayed in her, when she finished, her head on his shoulder. When she pushed, he stepped away.

"What are you, Mark? T-That was not possible..."she said, her eyes scared again. She looked tired now, and some of the plumpness around her face and her hips had vanished. She was now thin, where before she was healthy.

"You do not really want to know the answer to that question, do you? Much less than you actually wanted me to finish."

She nodded; intuitively, she knew what he was, just as he knew that he could potentially turn her.

"I suppose I should thank you; you saved me from..." her voice trailed away. He caught thoughts; she would never have an affair now, he had given her everything she would ever need. And she knew he could have taken her life.

He nodded, smiling slightly. "Don't thank me yet. I may still take you, and you may still call me, and ask for that which I denied you this day. And I might say yes."

She looked at him, for the first time seeing beyond the exterior. Her eyes were both speculative and afraid, and as she cleaned herself and the room up, she put herself back together.

He signed the relevant forms, and she seemed back to the way she was before, on the surface. But Mark could hear that she wept for her own fidelity, for her husband, for her children. She wept for herself, and for the question she would someday ask herself, then him.

"Danielle, do not blame yourself, or try to keep this secret from your husband. He has sensed that he cannot satisfy you, and suspects an affair. Tell him about this, and he will not be shocked or hurt. He wants more from your relationship as well. Not in the same way, but he wants you to be happy. Tell him about this, and how you want only him as a consequence, and he will be more than happy; he will be grateful."

A week later, he received a text message from her, connected to a photo; her and her family, standing at a showground. The picture was dated, and it had been taken only a day before.

Thank you, the message said.