Chapter 10 - Succubus
After our shower, and just a little more play, it was time to leave for our sex-capades. Oli, having been thoroughly blow-dried, led me out the door. Or, more accurately, she towed me, since she was still on her leash. The both of us were still bare-assed, although she had the benefit of her fur coat. Still, to be fair, her big red labia fairly screamed 'FUCK ME'. Once we were on the sidewalk, she reminded me that we could 'cloud the minds of passersby', as she put it - supposing we felt like it.
After crouching to grope her inviting pussy, for luck, I put my end of the leash in her mouth, and we split up. She sashayed, still on all fours, to the left - to visit her werewolf. Good luck with that, I thought. I assumed that Mr. Shagswell was just some guy - since fantasy was our calling - but, given how my world view had been forcibly expanded, I knew he might be the real deal.
Meanwhile, comfortably starkers, I marched off in the opposite direction. I had no idea what to expect ... Oli had neglected to fill me in on what my engagement with this Richard Rutsall, or whatever his name was, entailed.
The pebbles were annoying at first, but my feet were soon hardened to it. By the end of the first block, my clopping footsteps were echoing off the sleeping houses. Apart from my feet, I could feel a few other changes (although you will have probably observed that I'd already passed the point of noticing most of them). My shins were itching, and something was going on with my back - but mostly what I sensed was that, at this pace, it would take me hours to walk there and back.
"Screw this," I announced to the night and, spreading my wings wide, I sprang straight up into the moonlit sky.
Spiraling up, I could see Captain Jim's house, and then the little park where Roger had first fucked me. I could also see my long, distorted and hoofed feet, my now shaggy shins, and my strongly beating bat-like wings. It was fair to assume I also had horns, but given my arms were free just now, I felt my head anyhow. Yup - there they were. My client wanted some interaction with a demon. And to judge by my ramped-up urge to fuck the essence out of somebody, and the way my cunt lips glowed like stoked coal embers, I was pretty certain that I'd become a succubus.
Fair enough. I imagined demons were less than punctual, and that the wait would do Rick some good, so I took a sightseeing swing over town. My night vision was totally great, and I was already 'booked', so I dropped back down to rooftop level to peek in alleys and windows. Although I scoped out a variety of dirty deeds done in the dark, the lack of hands-on action - that is to say, MY idle hands - quickly sent me on my way to my assignation.
Putting the city lights to my back, I flew for the flashing red cell tower light that marked my destination. Gaining elevation again, I made good time - as the raven flies, as you might say. When I got to Harlot Hill (or whatever) I swooped low over a gate promising in wrought iron 'RAMSGOOD' - thinking, right, that's the name - and up a tree-lined drive to the sizable manor I'd seen on my flight path in. Only one room was lit, and that by a single candle. So far, so good.
But in spite of there being a half dozen rooms sporting balconies with leaded-glass doors, this wasn't one of them. Instead it had a trio of smallish windows, and I was obliged to hover at the one which was open a crack, so as to pull it wide. Even then, I couldn't just fly through. Rather I was obliged to perch in a crouch on the sill, and glare demonically at the doofus who must have thought this was amusing.
Clouds had hidden the moon (I think I may have brought them to me) but the candle's light - and the glow from my lava-like cunt - gave more than enough light for me to see inside. My target was fast asleep in the middle of a big bed; whereas if I was going to invite hell-spawn around, even fantasy ones, I'd probably be wide awake in anxious anticipation. He seemed normal enough - quite good-looking, actually. His sheets were kicked off and, to judge by his invitingly tall cock-stand, I felt sure he was dreaming of me.
The first order of business was to get inside. I tried folding my wings, which made me way too tall to fit. Finally, I swung them directly behind me and leaned forward. I expected to land face-first onto the floor, but while a succubus can't turn to vapor like Dracula, I'm here to tell you that she can waft like a thistle if the mood (or fear of concussion) takes her.
