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.
So caught up in sensation was Syra, that she almost missed the show as the child said slyly, "You want to give me back the vi..." then clutched his heart as his soul burned. He gasped and dropped to his hands and knees. "What the fuck?!"
Her laugh was somewhat wild with glee as he suffered, and she reached between her legs to start rubbing her clit in small, quick circles, preparing herself. "Silly boy, we have a deal. Potion or no potion, there is no renegotiating."
He blinked. "Damnit... devil deals. Fuck." He saw what she was doing and stared for more than a few seconds. She could see the gears turning as he realized, truly realized what she was. And what he had gotten himself into. "Fuck. I didn't bargain for safety. Umm... okay, we both know I screwed up," very true, she chuckled to herself. He continued watching her masturbate. "Okay... okay..." He looked into her eyes once more. "You will... Nono... Will you agree to leave me and anyone I am with alone if I apologize and limit my actions to you here in the tent, rather than send you out into the camp..." he finished rather sheepishly, his grand plan exposed and foiled.
The camp held less than fifty people and they couldn't all fuck her before the hour was up. Even if they could, her Master made her fuck an entire town for climaxing without permission after two days of torture. So, it was not beyond her abilities. Buuuut, that would mean she would probably have to kill everyone, and there was always a chance that would draw the inquisition. They couldn't kill her, but they could banish and trap her, ending her quest for all time.
The boy was, at least, clever enough to make it a question, therefore a binding deal, rather than a coerced and ignorable suggestion.
Syra smiled, "A quick learner, how refreshing. I will not kill, harm, or maim you or your companions once we're through, for your apology and keeping our activity within the tent. I'm not in the mood for a gang bang, anyway."
He visibly relaxed with a quiet sigh before saying, "I apologize for planning to betray you. And even for how I plan to get my potions worth out of you, inside the tent." With his safety secured, the novice wickedness reignited in his gaze, and he reached into his pouch and pulled out another potion, this one is far more mundane. A stamina potion with a bit of a kick. Ageravia. Well, well, she might get her potion's worth, too.
"On your knees. Suck me, demon." Maybe not so quick a learner. He didn't even make it a suggestion. Though surely, he knew enough to correct it if she didn't. He sat, his legs splayed, codpiece removed. He was respectably sized, like a small, dainty dildo. Which, with her training, curse, and innate racial traits, she could squeeze hard enough to cut off the blood flow, if not for not wanting to risk killing him with shock and losing the best lead she'd had in centuries.
Barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes again, she allowed him to think he was in control now, as she raised from her reclined position, kneeling before him as she leaned in to pull him into her mouth, stroking shallowly a couple times to build up enough moisture to begin pulling him into her throat.
Her body, driven to heightened senses by the potion and the taste of her One God, enjoyed even this simple pleasure, feeding on both the boy and her own lust. He grabbed her horns, growling huskily, "You want this," as he rammed his cock down her throat. She does want it; she might just wish it was more... impressive. Nine Hells, she could still breathe with his seven-inch member down her throat. Alas, but her Master spoiled her.
Her tongue slid along his length, flicking and caressing without missing a beat as he thrust into her throat, dragging her lips along his length, even flicking his sack while he was buried in her throat.
He shuddered with a suddenness that seemed to surprise him, exclaiming, "Ah!" as he came down her throat and she realized with sudden clarity that the only thing worse than a human was a human
