Astaroth

"A what?" I said, confused. I looked at Sly while I mentally ran through the possibilities.

"Suckabus, suckabus," he repeated. "Din't you hear me? Don't ya know what a suckabus is?"

I thought for a moment about how to reply. Sly's always been conscious of the difference between his background and mine. He likes to lord it over me any time he feels his street smarts have given him an advantage. On the other hand, though, for a big, cynical, street-tough guy he is pretty thin-skinned when something rubs his nose in the difference between my education and his lack of a formal one. Fortunately, the sting is largely out of it by now. We've been a partnership for quite some time, and we have learned to respect each other as individuals, not just for what we bring to our relationship: sex, on my part; finding clients for me on his. We are both good at what we do.

"Could you mean 'succubus'?"

"Yeah, yeah. Succubus. That what I said, ain't it? So, Princess, let's hear that expensive upstate college degree pay off. What's a succubus?"

He had sprung this on me while I was getting dressed after a satisfying session with a very athletic client on the couch in Sly's apartment. I was a bit tired after that workout and was looking forward to getting home and getting some sleep. I do have a day job, you know. But Sly wanted to talk business.

"Well, in Judeo-Christian mythology and folklore," I said, trying not to lecture, "a succubus is a female demon who appears to men in their sleep and has sex with them to steal their sperm."

"No shit. Why's she want to do that?" Sly asked in wonderment.

"Some folk tales say she needs it to survive. Others say that's where demons get sperm to impregnate other women to make more demons."

"Jesus, Princess. That is really fucked up. Who believes that kind of shit?"

"Well," I said, suppose you're a holy man who's supposed to be godly and celibate, and had always been taught that pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, was a sin in the eyes of God."

We both smiled at the picture of tough, profane Sly in that role.

"Anyway, you wake up in the middle of the night from a wet dream. You figure God's going to be pissed at you for having had such awful thoughts. But wait! It really wasn't your fault. She must have been a succubus. Everybody knows you can't refuse a succubus. So, it's okay."

"Hunh. Pretty convenient."

"Yeah, isn't it, though. Anyway, why'd you bring this up? It's late. Does this have something to do with us? Or to be more specific, with me?"

"Yeah, Princess, it does. I got a guy that's always wanted to meet a succubus. He's into witches and fantasy. Dungeons and Dragons kind of stuff."

"Oh."

"Yeah, you got it, Princess. How'd you like to be a real-life succubus?"

"Hmm. Could be fun, I guess. A little like Elvira, maybe. But Sly, the guy's not some religious fanatic, is he? Going to blame me afterwards for debauching him? You remember the time I nearly got killed by one."

"No, Babe, he ain't. I checked him out. Just a nerd lookin' ta get laid. With a story."

"Okay, if you say so. Alright, I'll do it. Set it up."

"Good girl. I always know I can count on you."

"Yeah."

I checked out the web to get an idea what guys figure a succubus should look like. Wow! Lots of cleavage, long legs, very brief outfits. That part I could handle and would be fun. Like most women, I like looking sexy. Trouble is, most images showed them with horns and big bat wings. I figured I could deal okay with the horns, but the wings would present a challenge. They look great in pictures but might be impractical for what the client had in mind.

Some time ago, in connection with a job there, I'd made the acquaintance of Ruth, a costumer who works at the Metropolitan Opera. We'd had coffee a few times. She's in her late fifties. She's amused by and I think a little envious of my second profession. She enjoys hearing about some of my jobs. Living vicariously, I suppose. Anyway, it seemed a good idea to consult with her: succubusses seemed to me to be more in the line of operas.

She loved the idea, and dove into it with a will (and an impressive amount of talent!). It took some serious research, but we put together an outfit that seemed to work. It had soft thigh-length black stiletto-heeled boots, and a black leather top like a one-piece bathing suit made of a shiny leather-like material that was soft enough to cling to all my curves. In the front it was split down the middle, beginning a few inches south of my navel, growing wider as it rose, spreading to reveal much of my breasts, just barely inboard of my areolas. From the bottom of the slit to just below my breasts it was bridged by laces. The laces were a nice touch: they revealed a lot of bare flesh and strongly hinted at how easy it would be to tug them free.

The costume had similar laced slits on the sides and over the swelling of my hips. The lateral slits joined the front one in points just over my nipples. A thin spaghetti strap that went from these points behind my neck held them tight to me as well as pulling my breasts toward each other to give me a really interesting cleavage. We added elbow-length black wristlets and a black beaded necklace with a pendant that rested just inside valley between my breasts, emphasizing their swelling even more. Ruth cobbled together a wicked-looking, curved pair of horns that miraculously held up without disturbing my long dark hair. The outfit even had a pair of batwings that rose up and out from the back and, when properly deployed, framed my body nicely. The finishing touches included heavy mascara and black lipstick and nail polish, pretty much in the mode of Elvira or Morticia Addams.

Altogether a very sexy outfit! I loved it! We stood for minutes admiring our work in the mirror. Then, with a mischievous grin, she pointed out the hidden zipper in the back that with a single tug let the whole thing fall off me, wings and all. We both had a good giggle at that one. And with that, I was ready to ensnare the 'helpless innocent' that was my client.

On the assigned night I arrived after midnight at the client's apartment. I had used his passkey to get into the building and now used it to enter his apartment. It was dark, illuminated only by a small nightlight visible through the open bathroom door. Not much, but it was adequate. All was silent except for the usual city noises from outside, reduced but still present, even at this hour. As quietly as I could, I changed from my street clothes into my succubus outfit. Following the directions the client had given Sly, I made my way to his bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and standing there I could hear the soft sounds of his breathing. I could not tell if he was really asleep or pretending, but that was his concern, not mine.

I tiptoed over to the bed. He was lying on his stomach, his head to the side. Delicately I pulled down the single cover. He was naked. I took a moment to appraise his body. Not bad. He clearly kept in shape. His back was broad. He had a trim waist, and a good-looking and firm ass. Not that all that should matter to me as a professional, but it did make the job more enjoyable.

I took advantage of a nearby desk lamp to arrange that I would be lighted mostly from behind, but with enough light in front to make out the details. I figured it would be more dramatic that way. Setting is always important.

He didn't stir. If he was faking it, he was good. I stood up beside the bed, in as erect and imperious a stance as I could manage, and declaimed, "Awake, foolish mortal! It is Astaroth who summons you!"

(BTW, I found that name on the web. I liked it.)

"Arise!!"

He almost jumped, and then rolled over. His front looked as good as his back. Nice.

"Wh... What? Who are you? Why have you awakened me?"

"Astaroth summons you. You cannot refuse. You will lay with me."

He really must have been asleep, because he seemed confused at first. Gradually he seemed to remember what this was all about.

"No! I mustn't. It is evil!" he said, without, I would have to say, too much conviction. His eyes, sweeping over me, told a different story.

"Foolish mortal. Canst thou refuse this?" I said mockingly. Surreptitiously I grabbed the hidden zipper and pulled. In a second, I stood there naked but for my boots, armlets, and necklace. Oh, and horns.

I smiled at him, as evilly as I could manage under the circumstances.

His eyes got wide, then, and his cock began to stir. Guys are so helpless!

I walked over to the bed and got onto it and knelt over him, my knees on either side of his hips. I could feel the heat radiating out from his groin between my thighs. I leaned over him, my breasts brushing his chest, and pinned his arms above his head. He groaned. I kissed him then, deeply and passionately. I lowered my hips until I could feel the firm tip of his cock pressing against my pussy. He raised his hips. I enfolded his cock between my labia and gently rubbed up and down, feeling my clit slide along him. It felt really good. I was already pretty wet. His eyes closed and he moaned softly.

I raised up a bit, let go of his arms and used one hand to grasp his cock and get it oriented properly. He reached up and held my hips as I slowly descended on him. I felt that lovely cock part my pussy lips and slip easily into me. It felt very good sliding in, spreading me nicely.

"I, I can't," he said softly. "I shouldn't. It is evil, and I.... Oh my God that felt good!!"

'That' was a technique Sly had taught me. I knew it would focus his attention and shut him up. I tightened up my perineal muscles to give a firm squeeze to his cock inside me. It had taken me a fair amount of practice to master the technique, as well as time well spent on strengthening exercises. It was worth it, though. Besides enhancing the experience for clients, it felt good to me, too.

I squeezed him again and then slowly rose and lowered onto him. He gasped and moaned. I reached down and took his hands and placed them firmly on my breasts. His hands were delightfully warm, and he wasted no time in gently squeezing and massaging my breasts while I continued to rise and fall, slowly and languorously, bringing gradually him to a peak. No more talk of 'evil', now. Just soft moans of pleasure. I do know my job.

He couldn't last long at this rate. I soon felt him swell inside me. Then he gasped and I felt his cock pulse as he finally reached orgasm and began to spurt into me. Now that I had him well started, I could relax a little and indulge myself, so I came down onto him as firmly as I could, driving that throbbing member deep into me. I could feel his hot, thick sperm shooting directly into my womb. That did it. I came. Not the earth-shattering, rock your world kind of orgasm, but nonetheless a very pleasant and satisfying one. I sighed, lost in a rosy world of sensation.

He finished before I did, but I held him pinned down, so I could enjoy the warmth and pressure of that cock in me until I was done.

After a few pleasant moments I figured I'd better get back into character. I looked down at him with a pitying stare.

"Poor foolish mortal," I said. "Didst thou really think thou couldn't deny Astaroth that for which she came? Sleep now. Astaroth is done with you."

Pretty good, no? Role-playing is a fun part of my profession. I assumed that demons use Elizabethan English. All the ones I ever heard did.

I rose up off his softening prick. I used the bed sheet to wipe off some semen leaking out of my vagina. He had really unloaded into me. Good for him. The sheets would give him a nice souvenir. I watched him. His eyes were closed, and eventually his breathing slowed, and he slept. I take pride in my work.

In the bathroom I put on my street clothes. A quick look in the mirror, though, revealed that I had forgotten to take off my horns. I quickly took them off. At that late hour I didn't think I could get Peter, my usual Uber driver who's used to my outlandish costumes. I imagine that even in New York it might be hard getting a cab with my horns still on. Or maybe not.