The Clan of the Incubi
The Incubi, and their sisters the Succubi, are possibly the least and the most frightening of the Daemon species. A full-blooded of the kind could bend the will of their victims with the use of lust and sex in any form. With powers ranging from instant orgasm to sensory explosions leading to excruciating pain, other species found them either delightful or deadly.
The worst of their power, however, is the ability to drink in the life-force of those who succumb to them. The soul's energy can be a drinking fountain for the Incubi, or a meal worthy of a king that will fill them more than any food could.
Luckily, over time, their kind had become diluted with other Daemon species. Sex was replaced by power. The ability to drink energy lost or capped with a constant leak of the energy ingested. Very rarely, an Incubi can hold onto the power fed to them for extended amounts of time, especially a child of an Incubi/Human union–though that was rare in itself.
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Shadows and light played on her face as she stared up at Rhoe, sweating heavily and breathing just as hard. He smiled down at her. The vampire looked imposing with his chest heaving at her on false breaths. Even his face appeared flushed like he still had a heart to beat. Areica knew otherwise. The smell of old blood filled the air too much to think the man in front of her lived. It made her feel sick though she did not show it.
With a raised brow and teasing smile, Rhoe kicked the sword from her hand. The shining metal glinted as the weapon skidded across the glossy wooden floor of the sparring room. Her now empty hand closed, scraping against the flooring with over-sharp nails before becoming a fist.
His own sword fell to her neck, the point taunting her to move along the visible bite marks healing on her skin. Areica's violet eyes flashed at him with more than a hint of anger–something that made him rather amused.
"You know, pet, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were fighting to kill." He said, bending down with the sword still in place, "But we were just playing, were we not?"
He'd been teaching her to protect herself and defend herself for the last few weeks. Thanks to the violent breaking of her, she remained on the protective side. During this session, he threatened such an attack again. It forced her on the offensive.
His hand wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her near. The point bit at her, but she refused to satisfy him with a scream.
"Weren't we?" he asked again, hands tightening in her curling black locks
"Yes." She spat more than said
He pulled his sword back then tossed it to the side. She whimpered, despite her will not to, as he jerked her closer to his face. Fear shot through her, just as he'd trained her to feel whenever he crossed her personal boundaries like this. Master Rhoe smiled, obviously smelling that scent of terror that he seemed to love so damn much.
"Good. I thought as much." He pulled her roughly again, but up this time, not toward, "You'd never hurt your Master Rhoe, would you?"
She swallowed her reply like a bitter pill. Yes . . . if she had the strength, he'd never see the sun set again. But she didn't say it. She was not as foolish as that. However, when no reply came, he pulled her as close as he could, closing the distance between their bodies. The move knocked her off balance. To regain some of it, her hand fell to his chest. He was cool and wet thanks to the blood she spilled with her sword. Her open palm fell in the center of the slit of blood, marring the perfect pale, white expanse of his chest.
Rhoe sucked in a breath of pain as the palm pressed into him. His hand came to her neck with claws pressing into the length of her neck. Fear grabbed her again. He had the capability to rip her throat out, and he would if it suited him.
His head threw back slightly, while his eyes fluttered. A look of ecstacy crossed his features as he dug in. Her fear was an aphrodisiac to him. His member ripened between them. Immediately, she felt ill . . . she felt numb . . .
With a graceful movement, he sat higher up on his knees until her face touched his hardness through his leather pants. His crotch grounded into her flesh as he gyrated on her. It obviously gave him a thrill. Rhoe's breath hitched then growled as the air spilled from his lungs.
Areica feared what came next. Normally, by now, Master Rhoe would have pushed her to the ground and made his way between her legs. This time, however, he just continued to rub himself on her, possessively. She couldn't hold back the whimper that crept to her throat. Rhoe rewarded her fear with a deep throated chuckle.
His free hand slipped between the meeting of their bodies. His pants fell open after a jerky movement on a leather strap hanging before them. The hard pink shaft of him sprang out of the new opening. Rhoe's hips continued to move, brushing that thing on her. It left a cool, wet line along its path.
He maneuvered himself, and her, so that her face lined up with his manhood. She looked at it, then looked to him with confusion.
"Open your mouth." He said, his voice thick with need.
She refused, shaking her head. Her jaw tightened as though she was clenching her teeth. Rhoe yanked her hair hard enough that she knew some of it ripped from her scalp. She whimpered pathetically. Tears stung her eyes.
"Open. Your. Mouth!" his voice was forceful this time, more anger than need.
Unwilling to go through such pain again, Areica did as told. Her trembling lips parted, forming an "O." Roughly, Rhoe pulled her face closer to the stiffly standing cock. He shoved her onto it, pushing that smooth, sleek thing into her mouth as far back as it could go.
She gagged which made him groan.
She choked; he laughed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks; he smiled.
He moved her head back and forth like the friction of sex and all she could do was allow it to happen submissively. She hated the sensation of the meat throbbing between her lips. Her teeth began bearing down on it.
Rhoe stopped suddenly with an angry hiss that caught her attention.
"You know what I can do to you if you injure me, pet." He wrapped her hair around his fist, "I'll rip your pretty little head off."
It almost sounded better than this. But then she thought of Master Khelman. As promised, over the last weeks, he'd given her a taste of the good when Rhoe dished out the bad. He'd make this up to her, if only she could make it through this.
Closing her eyes, Areica allowed her mouth to go slack. Rhoe's grip on her hair loosened, but remained in place, forcing her head back and forth on him. He forced her so far that she could feel the coarse blonde hairs of him tickling her nose.
The movements became erratic as Master Rhoe's "breath" quickened. The throbbing became frequent jolts as her mouth sucked on him. After endless moments, he stopped. Something chilled and wet shot down her throat, causing her to gag again. Rhoe did not move to allow her to spit it out. No, he just threw his head back and groaned with pleasure. She had no choice but to swallow that salty stuff.
And something shot through her. As she sucked out the cum from him, she felt an energy overwhelm her. Suddenly she felt warm and whole, satisfied as though she'd had a tremendous meal. It was like she'd never HAD a full meal before . . . Was this what it was like to feed on her own and not just soak up the sex?
She drank the spunk down, milking him for everything he had. Rhoe grunted above her, somewhere between pleasure and pain. She didn't care. She wanted to taste more of that feeling . . . It felt like drinking delight and rapture. Her head swam with it. It made her drunk with it.
A sharp pain brought her to herself. Eyes fluttering, she looked up at Master Rhoe, who stared down at her in anger. He brought his fist to her again, though she was not aware of the first time.
"I said, stop, wench!!" he screamed as flesh contacted flesh.
Areica let go of the softening member and came down to the ground in a heap of pain. She whimpered, bringing her hands to her head. She heard Rhoe stand, then the rustle of him fixing himself. It apparently took him a moment to gather himself, because it seemed long before he moved again.
"When I say stop, I mean it." He screamed causing her head to throb, "Am I going to have to punish you yet again?!"
He grabbed at her hair, lifting her from the floor. She clawed at it as though trying to find a way to hold herself down. There was nothing to help her. Fear grabbed her. Punishment. Always punishment.
"Put her down, Rhoeshard." A deep voice called from the other side of the room.
It was painful, but Areica managed to open her eyes. She couldn't help smiling when she saw Master Khelman standing in the doorway of the training room like a black angel of mercy. He still wore his ankle length coat that held his body perfectly. She could almost make out the lines of his muscles through the coat. His long dark hair flowed over the black coat, framing his pale face in darkness.
If she wasn't in pain, she would have wanted him. That caused a dull ache in her stomach.
"Master," Rhoe started, "She disobeyed me. We cannot tolerate insolence from–"
