The Princess and the Succubus

One of a quartet of stories written back in 2014 and self-published under the titles

Synthie

and

Synthie Recalibrated

. This one is a separate story, but continues the theme of futanari.

*

"Are you a sorceress?" I whispered when I was sure He was gone.

She peered at me through emerald eyes that shimmered with tears. Her face was veiled and framed by long russet hair that had been straight earlier but was tightening into a tangle of curls before my eyes. This new bride was pretty. Not as classically beautiful as the last one, but with an air of vulnerability and innocence that tugged at my heart. Usually His brides arrived burning with lust and ambition, and I would watch Him erode their dignity and self-respect over the years until nothing but feral lust and simmering hatred remained.

This one, though, had been different. Determined and fearful, and later very confused. Even before she had dropped her robe to the floor, I had sensed desire warring with horror. She had not expected to find Him attractive. She had thought herself immune to His charm.

But of course no human could resist His power. Even I struggled against it. I sensed her desperation as she revealed herself to him, her skin rich with tattoos bright with coiling, snaring power that snatched and tore at me and commanded my obeisance. Not in a thousand years had I seen such symbols, but once seen you can never forget.

I fell to my knees behind the panel where I had been standing, spying on the nuptials, as I had done a hundred times before. I could hear Him laughing. "These pretty markings won't work on Me," He said. "Tonight I will take you as tradition demands, but tomorrow you will worship Me on the gallows, and the whole populace will watch you submit to My rule. Maybe, if you beg, I will take pity on you and let you live. Or maybe I'll let My warriors use you while the noose tightens slowly about your neck."

I hoped for some defiance from her, even though I knew she was already under His spell. She wailed, "Forgive me, my Lord! My King! My Husband!"

He slapped her hard, and she screamed as He threw her onto the bed -- but there was no more struggling. Her whimpering gave way swiftly to cries of delight. Only when He left at long last did her sighs of pleasure give way to heart-wrenching sobs of utter defeat.

She had covered herself with sheets -- out of cold or shame I do not know -- and I dared to approach her. "Are you a sorceress?" I whispered.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"A fellow victim," I said. I grabbed her wrist tightly. "Are you a master of the secrets of Pure Silver?"

She nodded, and suddenly I could almost taste freedom. I stripped out of my tunic, and her breath caught. Her eyes traced the mesh of Pure Silver that wrapped my torso and breasts and shoulders, burning my pale skin black wherever it touched. To me, it felt like flames licking at me, a neverending itch that kept me awake at nights. No matter what I did, I couldn't escape the Pure Silver.

I needed a sorcerer. "Take it off," I begged her. "Set me free."

"What are you?" she demanded, her own humiliation seemingly forgotten.

"A prisoner here for a thousand years," I said. "I'm a succubus."

Her eyes widened and she pulled away, her hands starting to pull the covers away. I grabbed them and held them still. "Please don't. I mean you no harm. Set me free and I'll swear eternal loyalty. I'll help you escape! Just please don't bind me with more sorcery."

She studied me, her thoughts deep, her emotions dark and complex. "I don't just want freedom," she said. "I want to destroy Him."

I pulled away from her, startled. Her words terrified me, but resonated with my own ancient hunger for vengeance -- and I had had a long time to plan, just never the means to carry it out, before now. "If you truly wish to destroy Him, you must sever Him from the source of His power, and you must take it for yourself, just as He once did."

She sat up eagerly, the emerald fire in her eyes blazing fiercely. "You know the source of His power?"

I recoiled away from her, shielding my eyes from the terrifying command in her tattoos. "Sorry," she whispered, and wrapped herself in her robe. "His power?"

"You welcomed it between your legs," I said, looking at her with a sly grin, and she blushed. "He took it from an incubus," I explained. "One of the great Incubi Lords, in fact. Severed it with Pure Silver, then cut off His own insignificant genitals to make a space for His powerful new incubus cock and balls, so that the demon lord's power became His." I chuckled.

"That's why I couldn't resist Him," she said, "though I have never before looked at a man with desire."

"And that's why your tattoos are useless against Him -- He's not a demon, though enough demon blood and power flows in Him to make Him immortal, invulnerable to anything except Pure Silver. Enough that even if you succeed in severing Him from His demonic manhood, a good part of the demon's strength will linger in Him."

The excitement burning in her eyes dimmed suddenly to misery. "But how will I resist the terrible power He has over my mind? And if I do succeed, somehow, how can I take His power for myself? I am a woman."

I sighed over human ignorance. "Free me," I said. "The mesh that binds me is the only Pure Silver in the city. He guards too well against it. And my blood, if shared, may give you the strength to resist Him. As for taking His Power... A woman can wear a cock as well as a man."

She studied me thoughtfully, her brow deeply furrowed, eventually reaching a decision. "What's your name, demon girl?" she asked.

I had never told anyone my true name, of course, but I was willing to share a part of it. "Barb."

*

Princess Arianthe played with the name, tasted it, let it rest on her lips for a moment before echoing it. "Barb." There was a deception in the sound of it, but no hint of danger. She smiled at the strange girl who gave her hope. "My name is Arianthe." But she too kept a part of her name back.

Barb sat down on the bed facing her. "Free me, Princess Arianthe, and I am yours to command."

The Pure Silver mesh gleamed in the firelight, but it was the firm, full breasts visible through the mesh that held Arianthe's attention. Arianthe had always and only ever been attracted to women, and although Barb looked no older than Arianthe, her body's voluptuous curves seduced the eye. Her pale grey eyes were bewitching, and her long dark hair fell about her like silken night. To remove the Pure Silver, Arianthe would have to put her hands on Barb's soft, warm skin -- and would she be able to take them away again? Or would she find herself as lost in this demon's welcome charms as she had been in His?

She shivered. The memory of His hands on her, and the cruel memory of how she had begged Him to use her, left her feeling defiled. She was dirty with His residue and the thought of it made her sick.

Forcing her too-vivid thoughts away from her earlier self-betrayal, she focussed her senses on the Pure Silver. Powerful currents coursed through the silver veins, reacting negatively with the unnatural flesh of the demon girl.

At the last moment she hesitated and asked herself: Am I really willing to let loose a demon in a desperate hope to destroy Him? But the moment's doubt passed quickly.

Her fingers traced the mesh, seeking the path of the continuous singlethread, searching for a logical start. Barb pressed herself back against the fingers, distracting Arianthe, but the princess fought the temptation to caress the delicate flesh. Until, with a few muttered words of magic, she broke the thread and unravelled the mesh slowly, spooling the singlethread about her fingers.

Pure Silver was the only substance known to have the power to hurt demons. They could be summoned and banished with blood and fire, and controlled with spells and symbols, but only Pure Silver made an effective weapon. And Pure Silver was rare and expensive indeed, being made through a long and laborious process of purification of ordinary silver, and incantations by moonlight. Barb's mesh could very well be the greatest treasure in the whole city -- and certainly for Arianthe's purpose it was.

Barb sighed with fresh relief with every knot undone. The pale skin that had been burnt black healed swiftly once the Pure Silver was lifted away. And at last there came a point when the remaining mesh could be peeled away.

Arianthe touched her fingers to two ugly scars that ran down the girl's back. "What happened here?"

"He cut off my wings," Barb whispered. "I'll never fly again." She leapt to her feet suddenly. "I'm free!" She raced to the window and breathed in the cool night air. "Free!" She fell to her knees, sobbing. "I had stopped even dreaming of this."

Arianthe knelt beside her, wanting to comfort her somehow, but Barb glared at her through tears. "Keep that poison away from me." Arianthe remembered belatedly that she had fingers full of Pure Silver and she flinched away. The demon girl wiped her tears away. "Finish your preparations, Princess, or your fate will be far worse than mine."

*

I was suddenly so hungry -- hungrier than I'd ever been in my life. My succubus power, suffocated for so long by the violence of the Pure Silver, now suffused my flesh. If Arianthe had had what I needed, I would have pounced on her there and then, promises of loyalty be damned. But attractive as she was, and attracted though she was, I needed a man.

Scratch that. I needed men. Lots of men.

And I was locked in the tower where no man save Him would ever dare to enter. The guards didn't even have the key to the door. Had I still my wings, I could have flown high above the city, but He had trapped me well.

Only the maids came and went unchallenged, through a doorway guarded with powerful magic.

Arianthe was focussed on the Pure Silver, spinning it like a web between her fingers. I didn't want to disturb her, or even go near her, so paced back and forth impatiently, waiting for her work to be done.

Again I was struck by how pretty she was. There was such confidence and determination in her, and the sorcery she worked seemed to ripple through her curls like restless fire. I wondered what it would be like to make love to her, to smell her and taste her and suck on her nipples while my fingers penetrated deep into her warm centre.

I wanted her, but she wasn't what I needed.

"Done," she said at last, and after a moment's admiration of her own work, she put it down.

"Test it on me," I said, holding out my palm. She had formed the Pure Silver into a short-bladed knife. "Cut me."

She hesitated, out of concern for me, but I insisted. When she cut me, the pain was bright like lightning. I may even have screamed -- I don't recall. But I was bleeding.

Before she could react, I cut her palm with my sharp fingernails and pressed the wounds together, letting our blood mix. To me it felt like ice spreading through my flesh.

Arianthe cried out in pain. "It's burning me!" She tried to shake her hand free, but I held her tightly, until my hand felt warm again.

"There isn't even a scar," she said, studying her palm. She giggled, abruptly happy when she had been in a panic only moments ago. Arianthe was high from my blood.

"Come with me," I said. "Quietly." I led her down through the tower to the doorway the maids used. "What do these symbols mean?"

She peered at them in confusion. "They don't mean anything." I started to argue, but she put her hand up to silence me. "They are the key. You must be marked with them to pass through."

Arianthe stood scratching her head for a minute, then pulled the Pure Silver knife from her pocket. "Give me your arm," she ordered.

Reluctantly I yielded it to her, and had to fight fresh waves of excruciating pain as she drew the symbols into my skin. "There," she said. Without warning, she pushed me against the wall and pressed her mouth to mine. It was the first kiss I'd had in a thousand years, and it set my heart racing like a mad thing. Arianthe pulled away from me, laughing. Not looking at me. "Sorry," she muttered. "Couldn't help myself." With a huge yawn she added, "So sleepy now."

I helped her back to her room and into bed -- and then I went hunting.

*

The maids woke her up. Their hands were gentle but firm, their expressions free from judgement but without pity. Arianthe might be queen, but they served Him, not her. She was only his latest toy, a prisoner in a gilded cage -- a luxurious tower, in her case, shared with a harem of who-knows-how-many women and at least one succubus.

There was no sign of Barb. She hoped the demon girl had not abandoned her. Through the foggy mist of memory she seemed to recall kissing the girl. She could feel the echo of soft lips pressed against her own.

The Pure Silver!

Ignoring the maids, who were encouraging her to get out of bed, full of enthusiasm for the day's coming excitement (though knowing full well that His plans for Arianthe would be dark and cruel in the extreme), she hunted for the knife she had crafted -- and sighed with relief as her fingers discovered the sharp blade beneath her pillow. Had she put it there?

She couldn't remember much from the previous night, just indistinct images and flashes of sensation, like those soft lips, or symbols carved with blood into pale flesh. The demon girl's blood had been intoxicating. Toxic with power. She felt alive with it, but also sick with it.

The maids wanted to undress her. They whispered and giggled in some unfamiliar language as they pulled the sheets away, and tugged at her robe, and gasped in horrified delight as her tattoos were revealed. They had brought water to bathe her, and her wedding dress, as if today were again her wedding day. That more than anything spoke of dark purpose.

Whispering sorcery, Arianthe shrunk the knife into a small ball of silvery metal, and, pretending to yawn, she slipped it into her mouth and under her tongue. She didn't need to talk, and had no desire to. Nothing mattered except coming face-to-face with Him.

And when she did, either He would meet a bitter end, or she would.

At least this time, thanks to Barb, she had a real chance.

*

I left a trail of bodies as I headed out of the city. The further I went, the more time I took. From the guard at the palace who fucked me roughly against the wall, his passion so urgent that he came with embarrassing speed; to the priest at the chapel who sacrificed me on his altar not once but three times, his sceptre wilting and his orbs empty of holy water; to the gang of thugs who raped me in style, though none lived to brag of their conquest. And so many more.

I was revelling in my freedom, feasting on sex and lust. The wild energy of the hunt was exhilarating. I greeted the sun with a cry of joy, and stood on the city battlements laughing down at the guards. My wings may have been clipped but I had fed well and I was stronger and faster than ever before. As they ran towards me I dropped down out of the city and raced off towards the distant forest, the hoof-beats of pursuit growing ever closer.

*

There was a path through the crowd from the palace gate to the gallows. Arianthe wasn't chained or manhandled, but she felt like a prisoner on the long walk to the long drop. The noise and stench of the crowd was overwhelming. People had gathered to delight in her humiliation. She was their entertainment, and her bridal gown was just part of the show. Only the day before these same people had celebrated her marriage to Him, their lord and master. They had seemed genuinely happy for her. Now their happiness extended to her fall from grace.

She played her part, took her position centre stage on the gallows, wondering where He was, what He planned for her, when He would come. Elevated as she was, she could see their pitiless mockery. A rotten tomato was hurled at her from the sea of bodies, staining her dress like blood, triggering a wave of laughter.

How long she stood there she didn't know. The sun was high in the sky and her legs were weary when He came. He and His officers arrived on horseback, the crowd scattering before them. Even as she tensed with fear at the sight of Him, her heart stirred. He was magnificent. She didn't like other men, but He was special. She hoped He had come to forgive her, to take her back to her room, to show her again what divine pleasure there was in serving Him.

But His expression was thunderous as He stormed up the steps to her, the boards shaking under his heavy feet. Her heart quailed as He grabbed her by the arms and shook her roughly. "You did this, didn't you. You helped her." His grip tightened until she thought her flesh would be torn from her bones.

"Yes!" she cried. "Forgive me, my Lord!" Oh, what a fool she'd been! To betray her husband for that demon girl!

"Where is the Pure Silver?" He demanded.

Arianthe snapped her mouth firmly shut. How could she tell Him the truth? That she had planned to kill Him? He would never forgive her for that. "Sh-She threw it out th-the window, my Lord."

He glared at her, disbelief and uncertainty plain in His expression, even a hint of fear. She ached to confess the truth, to unburden her soul, but her terror at the thought of His condemnation kept her mouth shut, and after a minute He released her. She fell to her knees in front of Him, weeping with relief.

"Citizens!" His voice carried out across the crowd and they fell silent to listen. "Behold My new bride. A traitor! A serpent in our midst. A sorceress who thought to beguile Me. She would have made Me a puppet and ruled the city." As the crowd hissed its fury and hatred, He lifted her to her feet and ripped her gown open, exposing her tattoos for all to see.

It seemed as if the whole crowd gasped in unison and leaned forward to see her better, but out of the corner of her eye Arianthe saw a hooded figure turn abruptly. Her eyes sought out the cloaked figure for a clearer look, but the crowd had shifted and swallowed her up.

Her. Barb. Arianthe knew in her heart that it was Barb. The demon girl had not abandoned her. The memory of soft, warm lips surfaced again, and she wondered why she had ever thought He was attractive when nothing He had done to her could compare with that one brief kiss.

*

I hated those tattoos. They dug into my head like talons, twisting my thoughts and winding about my heart. The effort of tearing my eyes away from them left me with a blinding headache, and I stumbled back through the crowd, praying that no one had noticed the one person who wasn't rejoicing in Arianthe's exposure.

His laughter followed me. His voice rang out, calming the sea of chatter. "And when she found Me immune to her evil sorcery, she summoned a creature from the ancient dark, from the vilest pit of Hell. She unleashed a succubus upon the city!"

Cries of terror echoed around me, stirring panic. His voice boomed out over the screams. "Never fear! My men and I chased the demon from the city this morning. We will hunt her to the ends of the Earth. This is My promise to you."

I laughed to myself. It was so ironic that they worshipped Him, so unnatural a human, no less a sorcerer than the woman He denounced. But give people a powerful leader and they will worship him, forgiving all excess so long as victory follows.

I risked a glance at the stage. He had stripped Arianthe completely, but there was a strength in her now that had been absent earlier. I had feared she had fallen completely under His spell, but seeing her now my heart filled with hope.

Again her tattoos whipped at me. I needed to get close to her to help her, but how could I with those symbols burning away my sense of self.

*

Arianthe searched the faces in the crowd, looking for the only one that meant anything to her, but there was no sign of Barb. Perhaps she had imagined it, her mind playing tricks, giving false hope.