Yumi bounced through the forest, giggling as she went.
The nymphs' defenses so far had been, well, a joke. Three emerald-skinned women lying in a big old pitcher plant, blowing her kisses and cooing for her to join them. Their pheromones had been intoxicating. So had their bodies—absurdly sexual, just the way Yumi liked them, with big, gigantic, soft boobs, big doe eyes and thick lashes, stupidly plump lips, and wide, childbearing hips.
But Yumi wasn't of Gluttony for nothing. She knew fast food when she saw it, and sure enough, all three had been totally soulless—not even fey, just plant puppets. Flowers to attract pollinators—or, more likely, lures to draw in prey.
She'd still fucked them. She'd fucked the plant puppets breathless, kissed them stupid. She smirked at the thought. Whatever intelligence governed that plant was probably used to its prey stumbling in half-asleep, ready for the puppets to coo and fawn over them. Yumi had, overall, found the pitcher trap a bit disappointing.
She wanted
more
. Always, always more.
She couldn't wait to see Mistress Ella again. Now,
there
was a succubus who knew how to treat a lady. Or Poppy. Oh, how she loved Poppy. But most of all, she couldn't wait to fuck the mortals seeking asylum in here, to turn this little glade into a big, sticky honeytrap for the ambassadors. It would be as easy as a wifwolf in heat.
She hadn't tasted a mortal's submission in so, so long. She licked her lips of the remaining pitcher juices, absently stroking herself, edging herself. With any other succubus, indulging herself like that would be too much of a risk. But Yumi couldn't help herself. Of all succubi, Gluttony addicts were helpless pleasure addicts to the last.
Besides, Yumi thought, grinning, dumb, horny bimbo was her best state. People were always tempted to indulge themselves when they thought she was indulging herself.
This war really was a treat and a half. Before the Silken Summoners, demons had been largely cut off from the mortal world. Without their wicked gods to help them get inside—Yumi bit her lip, her lust cooling just a fraction as she remembered—they had been unable to reach this dimension at all save the actions of summoners.
And then they had begun to hear calls. A lot of calls. The Silken Summoners, heads of the Spire Court—that council of great, proud mages who had been
so sure
they could control Yumi and her ilk—had begun calling in demons by thre scores, appointing them to leadership positions. Yumi had been one of the first, entrusted with serving as Queen Mother Esthe's faithful chef and confidante.
Yumi licked her lips. And when the Silken Summoners had commanded them to claim their targets, Yumi had gleefully shared in the bounty with her siblings of Hell. Oh, how they had indulged. Silly Esthe hadn't even lasted forty-five seconds past her coronation before the crowner—himself an imp—had milked her own name from her, before Esthe and three other succubi had licked and kissed her soul into their bellies, earning her the delicious nickname: The One-Minute Monarch.
And now the whole world was
wonderful
. Yumi beamed brightly as she entered a densely wooded thicket.
Everyone
was fair game. There were hundreds—maybe even
thousands
of demons free to tempt and devour. Yumi seldom went a day without drinking up someone's tasty soul, to say nothing of having access to lots and lots of new and exotic playthings.
She paused, hands on her hips, looking around her with her tongue stuck into her cheek.
Well,
this
was neat!
The thicket had opened up into what was essentially a room—densely packed grape vines and plum trees forming "walls" around her. Yumi knew she was essentially next to the glade—she could sense her sister, Mandy, devouring someone even now. She giggled. How delightful. Apparently Mandy had gotten free and made it to the nymphs' captives already.
There was a firepit nearby, covered by a metal contraption Yumi decided was most likely a kind of oven. Pots and pans were stacked nearby. A large flattened smooth stump bore a small collection of knives, fuits and vegetables, and next to it was a woven chair amid a patch of wild herbs.
Oh. It was a kitchen!
Yumi took a moment to admire the tidiness of it. How... quaint.
She walked over to the counter and picked up a basket, raising an eyebrow. Whatever was inside, I smelled...
yummy
. She raised the cloth.
Inside was a small collection of colorful sweets.
Boring. She rolled her eyes and tossed the basket aside.
She felt a tickling at her toes. Blinking, Yumi glanced down
A little tendril had crept from the flower patch and was tickling over her feet. It was just an ordinary strand of creeper, with a few white buds yet unopened. It grazed along her foot, almost teasing her.
Yumi beamed down at it. Oh, now here was something fun. She reached down and picked up the little vine, as tenderly as someone might pick up a baby bird, and brought it up to tickle her lips. "Heehee!"
The tickling felt nice. She let the tendril dance over her lips, flitting about, grazing her cheek. "That's right, little flowers," she cooed, stroking the slender tendril. "
This
is what a real mistress feels like. And maybe one day, when you're nice and
thick
—"
The flowers opened, brilliant violet in color, and released puffs of perfumed smoke into her face.
She blinked, breathing in. "Oh." Her pussy throbbed. Her mind spun. "Oh, that's... almost..."
The flowers released another trio of puffs, bathing her in the floral scent.
Yumi licked her lips as the tendril continued to tickle along them. "That's better," she cooed, smiling lovingly at it. "Do you have some nice, brainwashy pollen for me, sweetie?" She stroked a flower, giggling. "Maybe some nectar to go along with it?"
The vine almost seemed hesitant, reticent, as she tenderly took the bud between her lips and started to suckle. Her eyelids fluttered, and she let out a moan of delight as sweetness hit her tongue. "Ooh, you do!" she said, slurring slightly around the flower in her mouth.
She felt the vines guiding her to the chair, and giggling, she complied. She wasn't in any hurry.
And much as the plant probably thought it was brainwashing her, Yumi was completely immune to any poison she knew to block. She knew a mortal sucking on this flower would be halfway molten by now, but she was only allowing herself to be pleasantly buzzed.
Besides, if she wanted to turn this plant into her wanton toy for capturing the nymphs, she first had to know it. To make it love her.
These plants always did.
She sighed happily, eyelids drooping, as more flowers arrived for her to suck on, to puff pollen into her face, as the tendrils pulling up her skirt were joined by a much thicker, slicker set of vines.