Syrafin
The Succubus was not welcome in polite society, and the Order of Light ensured all places in the world were polite, lest they be purified. So, she was forced to live off the land, or hide in the slums and slave quarters of the cities she visited.
Roving bands of alcoholic, thieving, typical gypsies roamed the roads and valleys of the world, living as free as they could from the Inquisition, but without all the comforts. Even there, a True demon was rare to see, and several muscled guards eyeballed her, taking in her appearance and making suggestions on where she could stay for the night.
Syra dismissed their existence the moment she had what she needed from them. A room and a bed to rest in, before she continued her quest. No matter that the beds she laid in, these days were far removed from what her Master could conjure. No matter that this, like every other night where she had a say in the matter, would be spent in agonizing solitude, with only her fingers to help soothe the ever-present ache between her legs. No matter that in five fucking centuries those damned humans had managed to prevent her from finding even a trace of her Master. The only thing that mattered was finding him. Finding him and freeing him to unleash their fury on the world.
Her lodging was little more than a lean-to with a bedroll, and she had just laid down, preparing for a little finger play when she heard yet another simpering human voice talking to a vendor nearby. "So... there's no way to reproduce the potion?"
The old woman laughed, and Syra expected the usual 'no, but for a little more I can...' line of haggling when the gypsy surprised her. "No, boy. This magic is long long gone. You must have gone deep or far to find this one. The first century of Light was spent purging all the fun potions from the world. Yes, this is a fun one, and you know it, hey? Compliance it was called. Lucky boy, lucky. Enjoy it while you are young..."
That caught her attention. She knew those potions well. Her Master created them so that his agents could more easily sway the pious resistance. And the old hag was right. None are free now who could make them. But she watched her Dark Lord do it many times and relished helping him extract one of the secret ingredients.
Syra rose quickly, not bothering to dress as she stepped from her lodging, and she looked around for the source of the conversation. Her naked body was a sight to behold, with full D-cup breasts that seemed to defy gravity with their round, perky shape and her nipples were pierced with ebony rings. Below, she is hairless, with long legs that ended in delicate hooves, and a long tail that whipped in perpetual agitation.
She immediately had the attention of everyone nearby, male and female alike. Even her would-be suitors were stunned into silence by her sheer, brazen sex appeal. She saw the old apothecary hag, and standing in front of her, gaping like a fish, was a man... no, a boy, in plate armor, loosely clutching a metal vial.
"You," Syra addressed the boy, "Come with me." She returned to her shelter, not wanting to tempt too many lusty men... it would be inconvenient to fight would-be rapists off, and she was tired.
As soon as she tucked into the tent the spell of her body was broken and the men boo her and cheer the lad for his luck. For his part he swallowed hard. Follow a demoness into her tent? That's madness he thought while gingerly pulling the flap aside. Surely she would not drain him into a lifeless husk with so many witnesses around. Gypsies didn't like to draw attention from the Inquisition.
"My... my... party expects me back by noon tomorrow or they will re...report my..." he swallowed, "loss."
"And if you tell me what I want to know, you'll be on your way before the night is done," Syra responded dismissively, while settling atop her bedroll, "I may even be willing to help with your desire, if the information you yield is good enough..."
Clueless as to her interest in him he said with abnormal boldness, "Well, we all know demons can't be trusted. But if you drink this truth potion I can believe you." He held up the vial, leaving her with a damningly hard decision. On one hand, this simpering worm would be able to convince her to do whatever it wanted for a couple hours. Her resistance to such effects meant nothing to this particular potion. On the other hand... the lost ingredient. Her master's very seed. Even the hint of a taste after so long... The temptress could not help but be tempted.
Syra's mouth watered, forcing her to swallow hard to keep from drooling. That would terribly compromise her outward appearance of utter scorn and contempt. "That is not a truth potion," she stated, "That is far, far more precious, and if you would waste it on a whim, then you are unworthy of acquiring more and should leave before I turn you into a eunuch."
Now he seemed a little offended. "I can get more. I just want to get them a little cheaper," the worm believed he was telling the truth, "And, um,making...err.. fucking you would hardly be a whim," he concluded with forced bravado.
"You're right. It would be a waste. After fucking me, you would find any other partner to be... lacking. And you would never... ever... be able to place your poor little cock anywhere near me after the potion is through. Think with the head between your ears, not your legs, stupid boy." Her impatience was starting to show through as her tail started lashing on the bedroll beneath her.
"So, what do you want? You said you could help me with my desire, and I desire to fuck you. Looks like we are hitting something of a wall." The boy crossed his arms as he sat near her tent flap.
Ugh. Mortals. So stupidly shortsighted. Syra rolled her red eyes, "If that is all, then this will be easy. Tell me where you acquired the potion, surrender the vial to me, and I will ride you until you're satisfied, be it five minutes or all night."
"You want my supply and my supplier. That's a bit much for one go. Especially if it's going to be the last good fuck of my life," the insect was hiding something from her and believed it had the upper hand in the deal! "Drink half. You can have the rest. I get you for the hour. Then I will tell you what you want to know, deal?" She felt a jolt. The fool thought to renege. But he just offered a deal to her. With her acceptance, his own soul would seal the deal.
"We have a deal." her nipples hardened as the magic of the deal surged through her. She held out a hand for the vial and the boy handed it to her with hands so excited they trembled. His hand didn't even fully retract; he was so new to this. He clearly intended to suggest she return it after drinking her half. Poor fool.
Syra held it up in a toast with her lips curved into an expectant smile, as she brought the vial to her lips, emptying half into her mouth.
The magic seared through her with an extra effect she expected but the boy had no clue of. Her senses of touch and lust heightened to eleven. By all the Princes of Hell this insignificant future larva was about to make her squirm and squeal like no man had done in half a millennia, no matter their skill or or size. As for the potion... it was not what she expected. She expected a ghost of the taste of her Night God. After all, 500 years is a long time. But this tasted diminished. Lesser. Yet... fresh. It brought back so many memories. Perhaps one of her Seduction Gods' lesser offspring made it, she mused as the taste and essence curled through her body and wrapped around her mind.
