Feature writer: Alei

Feature title: Succubus

Uploaded: ASSTR

Email link: Aleiand@hotmail.com

Link: https://www.asstr.org/~lostboy/OtherAuthors/Succubus.html


The priest screamed as he flew across the room, crumpling against the far stonewalls with a sickening thud. As his wracked and ruined body slid down the wall, where he joined the King’s guards in unconscious oblivion.

“Amateur!” hissed Lothilia as she surveyed her fallen victims.

What fools, to think that mere mortals could contend with her, a succubus of the deep Abyss? What arrogance, what prideful effrontery — delicious sins for which she would deliver payment in full. A painful payment indeed as these worms were now discovering.
To the naked eye, the Daughter of Sin did not appear imposing. With a petite feminine shape formed to perfection, she was the embodiment of lust incarnate. Her raven black hair, snow white skin and coal colored eyes were the essence of temptation. Even the self-righteous priests who had inadvertently summoned her had been unable to control their pitiful organs of lust in her presence.

Now they, along with the King’s own guards, lay scattered across the palace sanctuary like so many broken dolls. If she allowed any of them to live through the night, never again would they mistake her strength and power.

But it was not the males that were Lothilia’s concern. The male of the species had never held much interest for the stunning Demoness — mere bags of flesh, trifling nuisances to be retained or disposed of as met her need. Indeed, she found these confrontations annoying. Such matters were best left to lesser imps.

It was the female form, which had always intrigued her.

The forbidden lust of women seeking pleasure among their own kind was her most precious domain. It was the very fire of her loins, and within that realm, none could oppose her — certainly not some mortal priests or the impotent soldiers of some unimportant mortal princeling.

How fortunate and gracious it was, if unintentional, that the good priests had provided her such an excellent tribute of woman-flesh to ease her transition to this mortal orb. She could already taste the coming pleasure as she corrupted these vessels of purity. It had been very long indeed since the Demoness had exercised her will upon innocent mortal flesh.
Yes, very long indeed.
A high-pitched shriek of pure terror called to the succubus, and she turned with fiendish delight to view the source of melodious sound.

Princess Aredia, youngest daughter of the house of Wessex, was a beacon of innocence and grace in a land all too often lacking in it. She was a naive soul of great beauty, long flaxen hair, striking blue eyes, true nobility and yes, even courage. The Demoness could not help but appreciate the daring and bravery she had displayed interceding herself between the succubus and the helpless priests. But courage would not avail her here.

Now, the princess lay before Lothilia, her perfect blue eyes staring in horror as the succubus’ delicate fingers reshaped themselves slowly into sharp talons and her snowy white arms began to turn scaly and red. She stared as the Demoness’ soft breasts transform and expand and become covered with red hard scales — she stared as Lothilia’s inhuman legs lost their grace and spread wide, her feet transformed into cloven hooves.

Never one to play alone, Lothilia allowed the princess to join her in nakedness with two deft swipes of her razor-sharp talons.

Aredia’s shocked and captivated eyes did not move even when as she saw the woman-beast before her raises a beckoning talon to the shadows. Lothilia smiled, her tapered teeth creating a visage of evil delight as the Mother Superior of the convent stepped forward out of the darkness, her gate stumbling and uncertain, resistance etched in every movement and motion of her body.

Glaring at the Demoness the most holy and pious nun knelt between the legs of Aredia, daughter of her King and Sovereign.

The Daughter of Sin motioned to the wide spread legs of the Princess with a flick of her talon and the nun’s eye were instantly drawn to the smooth and pure entrance to the young noble’s sex. As if trapped in an erotic dream the nun’s eyes grew soft and heavy, a wondering questioning look apparent in her face. Resistance, horror, fear, all present in the nun’s bearing and visage as Lothilia worked her will on the wizen old crone, touching her mind her very soul.

The Mother Superior shook her head as if to clear her mind, her cowl falling from her head revealing her stunted grey hair and deeply lined appearance. But her eyes, eyes now filled with lust as her tongue stretched out experimentally licked the exposed folds of the girl’s virgin cunt.

Again the young princess screamed, the sound of her voice noticeably changed, becoming increasingly sibilant and deep, no longer that of a young girl but increasingly the moans of a wanton seductress. Her eyes finally broke free and wandered down to see the woman kneeling at her cleft. Moans of pure pleasure now mixed with gasps of terror as she helplessly watched the instrument of her downfall continue to ravage her exposed cunt. She resisted the urge to open her legs wider, but it was no use. The ache of passion welling up in her was far too strong to disobey.

“What a fitting instrument of transformation for a young princess,” thought Lothilia in lustful satisfaction.

To mortal eyes, the Mother Superior had seemed invulnerable — a pious, sunken crone beyond the touch of lustful submission, but Lothilia had found her vain weaknesses and warped them to her own whims and purposes. Now, as the nun increased the tempo of her vile defilement of the innocent Princess, the chaste woman began to transform. Her hair assuming the color of a blazing inferno, her body the visage of a buxom harlot, becoming pretty, then attractive, then a creature of unearthly beauty, ever more ravishing as the fingers of Lothilia’s mind skillfully played with her convert’s pleasure centers.

A convert soon to be joined by another.

The Daughter of Sin once again willed herself to human form, the need for inspiring fear and dread ended. She reached forward and plunged her fingers into the nun’s cunt and anus, and her lust now flowed into the corrupted woman unfettered, and then onward into the princess whose soul was relenting, slowly but surely, as it surrendered to the lust and will of Lothilia, every allegiance shattering as she gave in to the wanton pleasure pouring into her.

The Mother Superior, so recently a figure of piety, was unable to contain her unholy lust as she knelt directly between the princess’s wide spread legs, each lash of her heated tongue making her charge’s transformation more complete. Every lick, every kiss, each moan and whimper bound both more and more deeply to the Demoness’s will.

With growing gratification, Lothilia could feel the last of the former nun’s resistance fading. Expressions of rejection and terror were replaced one by one with a visage of hungry desire as she eagerly and frantically thrust herself backwards against the Demoness’ digits, her moans dripping with black desire as the last vestiges of her untouched purity were corrupted. Indeed, Lothilia could sense that her newly created seductress was no longer in need of her supervision. She would now gleefully and gladly finish transforming the princess, binding both irrevocably to their Mistress.

A shriek of pure joy mixed with terror signaled the princess’s awareness of what was happening to her as she witnessed her own body’s slow transformation — shrieked as her pale white skin become red and scaly and her eyes began to glow with the fire being kindled within her soul. — Shrieked with horror as she began to look at the world through eyes no longer blue and deep but yellow and slitted — moan as her hands transformed, no longer to touch the world around her with softness and tender care but with elegant razor sharp claws and talons — shrieked once again, a nearly inhuman sound, as her delicate silk bodice was ripped asunder by the expanse of her scaly breasts.

Her delicate feet transformed into cloven hooves. Truly a delicious sight!

Withdrawing her hand from her servant’s glistening cunt, Lothilia turned her gaze from nun devouring the young demoness in creation and turned her attention again to the shadows. The two nuns there had been foolish enough to think themselves unseen — almost as foolish as thinking their pitiful faith would protect them. But Lothilia was a creature of another realm, and light and darkness had no meaning to her. She had already shrouded them in sinful curiosity, despite their horror. After all, it was only fitting to keep them attentive and entertained.

The novitiates shivered visibly as they felt the Demoness’ gaze turn to them. Their revulsion was mixed with unholy fascination, having watched helplessly as the Mother Superior and the princess fell under the spell of the She-demon.
Lust licked at their bodies and souls. Staying would mean that a similar if not more hideous fate might await them. Flight was the only alternative against such naked and malicious power. But neither could do so, fascinated, bound in place by the foreign desires growing within their souls. Lothilia purred. Curiosity mixed with fear was such a powerful tool for seduction of the holy.

With a touch of playful malice, Lothilia reached for them with her will, surrounding them in a haze of dark desire.

The older of the two went into shock as she felt the change both inside and out. It was not shock from the scene she witnessed, but from her sudden, losing battle against willing, even hungry, participation. Tears of frustration and shame flowed from her eyes as she stroked the newly grown appendage that extended in lurid fashion from between her legs, the movement of her hand beyond her control. Her sister novitiate, with a mix of terror and evil fascination knelt beside her and sucked desperately at the massive cock working more and more of it in between her twitching lips. Lothilia could feel the battle inside them and savored it, even as she made it impossible for them to stop, captive to the unearthly pleasure created by her presence.

The younger novitiate herself was honored with the additional degradation of a long red tail which seemed to move of its own accord, plunging in and out, in and out of her glistening pussy as she relieved herself of her own virginity and innocence, the red evidence of her loss spilling to the floor.

“My, my,” thought Lothilia. “A blood sacrifice, no less. Yes, a very promising start,” thought Lothilia as she admired her handiwork.

\These mortals had seen fit to summon her from the Abyss; it was only fitting that she returns the favor by giving them a deeper appreciation of it. It made this cold room seem more like home.

Given time, these sisters of the cloth would serve her as well, bringing others to their Mistress until they and their sisters were Legion upon the face of this orb.
They were hers already; they simply didn’t know it.

Lothilia was savoring her unclaimed but certain victory when the door to the hall slammed open. A man, dressed in flowing priestly robes entered, carrying a staff. No doubt the local Bishop. It nearly made the succubus laugh. Even a Cardinal with the full force of his purity and belief behind him (which was rare in any man to begin with) would be little enough a nuisance. A Bishop was hardly worth her time.

The Bishop entered the room and beheld the scene with a grim visage. Holding his staff before him he spoke in a commanding voice. “Hell spawn, by the name of our Lord God Almighty, be gone from this place and return to the foul pit from whence you issued. In the name of God, I command it!!!”

“You do not command here priest!” Lothilia hissed. “Run yourself while you still can; you have no power here! Only death awaits you in this place!!”

Heedless of her warning, the Bishop approached her, mumbling in Latin, calling on his absentee God to give him strength to strike down the abomination before him. Lothilia, turning to face him fully, found it all quite humorous. At best this buffoon would be a minor irritant, easily dispatched.

It was only when the Bishop raised his staff to strike her that she realized her danger, for instead of a staff; she saw only a flaming sword wielded by an indomitable figure in white. Gabriel!

She shrieked and tried to move away, but the Bishop, imbued with the essence of God’s own Archangel was not to be denied as the weapon cleaved her horrifically, nearly destroying her in an instant. With her last vestiges of strength Lothilia reach for a weapon but could find nothing.

In shock the Demoness watched as her essence spilled onto the floor. It couldn’t end like this, not after so so long! She would not be banished, not even by Gabriel and his entire host. She would remain, for all eternity if need be.

Waiting. Calmly and with a slight smirk the wounded Demoness awaited the final blow as her essence, her very life’s blood rained onto the floor.

Chelsea wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, pulling her brown hair downward as she glided the mop across the cold stone floor of the hallway, and a familiar, methodical pattern. She had been scrubbing and mopping the entire day and had gotten surprisingly little done.

The young woman wondered briefly what had gone wrong with her plans for an exciting summer. It seemed so long ago that she had finished her grad program, perched proudly at the top of her class with her future stretching out before her, bright with possibilities. Just a few more check boxes and gold stars on her resume and she, Chelsea Martin would have her pick of any number of coveted professorships. Her future had seemed assured.
One of those check boxes however, had been her lack of meaningful field experience.

She had to admit, it was an area which she had avoided whenever possible. Who wanted to be out digging around ancient ruins or trying to decipher rotting texts when you could be in a library doing real research? Field time was, in reality, quite depressing and far away from the normal life she preferred.

Well, OK, normal was relative, she admitted. She was a bookworm, not an archeologist. She hated things that crawled, slithered or slimmed. She wasn’t fond of the heat or the cold nor the dust and grime of true historical investigative research. The air conditioned library or the bright sunny classroom — that was a different matter.

She knew that others considered her something of a nerd. Not that she really needed to be, she supposed. Her mother and friends had often told her how beautiful she’d look if only she’d spend a little time working at it but … well … intimate relations had always frightened her. So unknown, so uncontrollable — why go through all the trouble?

Men were so unpredictable… so clumsy and thick headed, and… Well… they made her feel so strange and tingly! She just didn’t like to be out of control and men, as much as it felt silly to acknowledge… they made her feel that way. Maybe someday, after she was firmly established, maybe then she’d meet the right guy and things would be different.
But men were really beside the point. Regardless of how she felt about them and about her personal appearance, there was that annoying box that needed to be checked if she wanted to achieve her ultimate goals. Field experience was a must.

Of course there were many ways to obtain what she needed. It wasn’t necessary to scramble over Sinagua ruins in the middle of the Arizona summer. There were far more pleasant alternatives

Being a participant in a living history experiment for example. Or at least so she had imagined.

Indeed, when the position at Cathaway Castle had become available it had seemed like a dream come true. Travel to a foreign land, and a chance to work within a real living history museum. It would almost be like a classroom, she had reasoned. And most of all, there would be no backbreaking labor under the unforgiving sun in dusty and primitive surroundings.

Well, at least the “out of the sun” part had worked out, she thought as she looked around the dimly lit, damp corridor, but the rest…?

She had, of course, understood that Cathaway Castle was a living history museum but she had never imagined the extent to which this institution took things.

Everything was authentic. The clothing, the food, the lodging quarters, everything including the tools used to maintain and even cleans the castle.

Living history was one thing but this was more like the living history of torture. The Marquis De Sade himself would have been very pleased.

It was insane. The miracle wasn’t that things had been dirty in the Middle Ages. No, the miracle was that anything had ever gotten cleaned. It was a backbreaking 18-hour-a-day job, which simply needed to be repeated each day in exactly the same manner. It took a literal army of servants to get the job done.

“Private Chelsea, reporting for duty,” she thought, saluting a small pile of crumbled mortar.

Even for all of her misgivings, she had learned a great deal. And she had her moments of being caught up in the overwhelming ambience of the place. She dreamed from time to time of perhaps of being a lady in waiting, or being a participant in a Grand Ball, or even of being assigned the honor of being a Lady of the Court. But each time, reality would come back to her and remind her that such things were not within her reach, even had they been possible.

There was no Grand Life in her past or future. Instead, she had been relegated to modern serfdom, instructed in hundreds of ancient methods of cleaning practically everything known to medieval society, using only materials and methods appropriate to the period. Her life had become little more than a constant battle against the forces of dirt, dust and soot. It was a battle that the forces of grime were always on the verge of winning decisively. Oh, what she wouldn’t have given for a single hour with a good vacuum cleaner and some simple bleach!

As if to add consciously to her torment, some bright young scholar had determined that medieval maids were overworked horrendously. Cathaway Castle, being a true living history experiment where everything was as historically accurate as possible, made sure that her working hours matched the era being replicated. Chelsea had very little time to do anything but clean, eat and sleep.

I’d have been better off in Arizona! What an idiot! Adventures in medieval cleaning techniques… dear Lord, they ought to sell tickets!

Actually, they did, from time to time.

She had one ray of knowledge and hope, and that was the fact that in a few weeks her self-imposed purgatory would end. She’d be prepared to land a plush job at St. Catherine’s Women’s College and she’d never be required to set foot outside of her comfy and secure little world again.

She’d head back to the States, begin her career and never forget what her thirst for adventure had gotten her into. Maybe it would temper her zeal a bit the next time around.

Reluctantly, her mind turned to the task at hand and, scrubbing the last piece of grime from the floor, she prepared to tackle her last task of the day, the old sanctuary. She picked up her bucket, mop, rag and polishing stone and headed slowly towards her final project of the day.

The old sanctuary was her least favorite room in the Castle. Even the other girls avoided it whenever possible, and she could still remember the look of relief in Breanne’s face when Chelsea had taken over the assignment earlier this summer.
Chelsea hadn’t liked the room then and her opinion hadn’t improved in the following weeks. There was something indescribably… wrong about the room… something that she couldn’t quite place her finger on, but was there nonetheless.

Chelsea felt a cold chill run down her spine as it always did as she approached to forbidding oaken door leading into the cursed room.

The entire history of the room was shrouded in mystery. Usually a castle the size of Cathaway had only one such hall but this one had two. This one was part of the original castle’s construction and had apparently been used for many years as the center of worship for the lords and ladies of the fortress until one day, for no apparent reason, another sanctuary had been hurriedly constructed on the opposite side of the keep and this one had been sealed with massive cut stones, masonry and powerful religious wards.

It had, in fact, disappeared from all records, expunged from the castle’s written history and knowledge.

It had only been rediscovered a few years ago by some ambitious students from Cambridge who had used ultrasonic equipment to note the hollow space which had been marked on all maps and drawings as simply fill rock and supporting structures.
Its unearthing had been one of the archeological achievements of the century and had been heavily covered by the press. As had the slow descent into insanity of the archeological team which had discovered it.

The items in the room had been preserved in near mint condition and were priceless. As one of the researchers had commented, it had been almost like walking into a room that had been in use the day before. Everything looked to be exactly as it had been on the day the room had been sealed — untouched, undisturbed.
Why the sanctuary had been seal remained a mystery since its discovery. Indeed, scholars still regularly visited the site and the theories were many and varied ranging from the practical to the completely preposterous and legendary.

Whatever the reason however, the room never failed to give Chelsea the shivers. She would get a cold, indefinable sensation of someone watching her from the shadows. The small, unreasoning terror in the pit of her stomach that she had as a child in dark hallways when the wind was singing through the trees. It came back to her now as much more than a memory, but something to be relived each day that she came close to the huge room.

Two more weeks only two more weeks…

Chelsea approached the door and felt the trepidation grow inside of her. Clawing apprehension screamed at her as images and strange, terrible thoughts ran through her mind. What would they be today?

Only two more weeks!

Taking a breath and holding it, Chelsea entered the room. At once, she could feel the disturbing sense of another presence somewhere close, perhaps in the shadows, watching her. If anything, the feeling was stronger than it had been the previous day, or the day before that. It was all she could do to keep herself from bolting for the door.
Come on now Chelsea, it’s just your imagination running away with you.

There’s nobody here but you, nobody!

Forcing her thoughts to quiet, the young brunette stepped further into the room and began to work, pausing to glance over her shoulder every so often. She cleaned the edges of the room, working her way in, trying to avoid the front center of the room for as long as possible. It was the one place in the room she had daily considered skipping, even though it would mean her dismissal.

The stain.

The only thing that kept her moving forward was the fact that she dreaded it less than losing the future for which she had worked so long and hard. But just barely.
When she had first arrived at the castle the other maids had told her about it: a red stain that appeared each day, growing larger each time and nearly impossible to remove. It started out small for each new person and was widely regarded as the strangest legend in an already odd castle.

Apparently ghost hunters of all shapes sizes and credentials would swarm to the area to measure the phenomenon but … it would never appear for them, only for the maids. It was written off as overactive imaginations, or worse, a hoax.

At first, Chelsea had agreed, thinking the other girls were just trying to scare her until the day she began to notice a small red spot near the center of the room. It had been difficult to clean, as if it had actually stained the stone many years ago, but with effort she had removed the stain.

It was there again the next day. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it did appear to be slightly larger. After a week there was no question. The stain had spread, and was still spreading, day-by-day.

For a time, she’d been openly afraid, until she was able to calm herself with reason and challenge the other maids about it. Obviously, somebody was going in every day and staining the floor to keep the illusion going, but nobody had yet admitted to doing it. Maybe it was somebody’s idea of fun but it was making a lot of extra work for her and enough was enough!

‘Still, it was a bit creepy to find the blood red stain, in the same spot every day. And underneath her aggravation, she got a knot in her stomach every time she approached it.
As she knew it would be, the stain was there again today. It had started as a spot the size of her thumbnail. Today, it was roughly six by four feet.
God damn them! It’s going to take a least an hour to clean up this mess!!
Grabbing her scrub brush, she knelt down on the hard floor and was about to begin when she noticed something odd. The spot seemed to shine today as if it were damp.

Hesitantly, the young woman reached her hand forward and gingerly touched the floor.
Sure enough, the stain was damp and slightly sticky as if it had recently been applied and had not yet dried. Experimentally, Chelsea attempted to wipe some of the substance up with her index finger. Maybe, if she could figure out what the stuff was, she’d be able to find out who was doing this and put a stop to it.

Pressing downward into what appeared to be the wettest part of the spot, Chelsea watched as some of the substance transferred to her finger and felt a warm surge flow through her body. Oh… it was so strange so alive and… And hot. In her mind she saw her best friend Dominique laying in front of her, a look of terror and lust on her face as she screamed with fright and pleasure as something dark and twisted entered into her cunny.

God, where did that come from?

Quickly banishing the unwanted thought, she brought her finger closer to her face to examine it. It was tacky like dried blood and it had a strange sulfuric odor unlike anything she had examined before.

Her mind shifted again as she saw her mother squirming below her, ripping at her clothes as she moaned at the touch of her own daughter.

Shocked, Chelsea leaned back from the stain. Her mind had always played tricks on her in this room but never like this, never this strongly or with this degree of perversion. And images like these. Where in God’s name were they coming from? This wasn’t like her at all — never once had she thought of anything even resembling these dreamings!

A slight noise caught her attention and she hurriedly looked around the room but saw no one else. She was quite alone here.

Looking back at her finger, she was surprised to see that the substance was gone, leaving only a blood red stain on the tip of her finger. The substance in the floor had also obviously dried and embedded itself in the stone. It wouldn’t be easy to remove now.

This was getting way too weird but…

Resignedly, Chelsea picked up the brush but hesitated for a moment as an intense chill ran down her spine. The feeling of being watched was suddenly so very real and threatening that she couldn’t help but look behind her.

For a single instant she saw someone standing there. A beautiful naked woman that she had never laid eyes on before but before she could even blink, the woman was gone as if she had never existed.

Chelsea immediately stumbled to her feet and glance quickly around, as images so foreign to her paraded through her mind. Fear and adrenaline pushed her senses outward, abnormally sensitive and keen as if being hunted.

“Who’s there?” she said, her voice tense with fright. “WHO’S THERE!!”

She felt a brief breeze waft past her face and turned again as she felt someone touches the back of her neck, but no one was there as she turned.

Something was wrong here, terribly wrong. Chelsea knew she was alone in this room but was equally certain that she was not. Someone else was here, somewhere. And these thoughts, where were they coming from? So lurid and oh, God, so perverted!

The wrongness expanded around her. She could feel it. She knew if she could just reach the door and get into the hallway then she would be fine. Fright filled her as she realized the other girls had not been lying, had not been playing tricks, and that this was really, truly happening. She began to walk quickly toward the door but before she could reach it, someone grabbed her from behind.

“Leaving so soon, cunt?” said a seductive and sinister female voice.

Chelsea felt her pussy twinge with desire even as her heart drummed out a warning.
Acting on instinct alone, Chelsea began to scream as terror overwhelmed her. She struggled desperately to free herself, breaking her attackers grip as she lunged for the door. Grasping the handle, she pulled with all her strength but the door wouldn’t budge. With no choice left to her, she turned to face her assailant.

She was alone.

How could that be? It was as if her attacker had vanished into thin air. No, that was impossible, someone had grabbed. The bruise at the neck of her blouse told her she couldn’t possibly have imagined it. Once again she screamed as loudly as she was able, but it was late in the afternoon. Would anyone be around to hear her?

“Oh, I’m sure somebody will hear you, slut,” a seductive voice whispered in her ear.

Terrified almost to the point of paralysis , Chelsea spun around but could see no one.

“Wh- who are you and… What do you w- want?” the young brunette stammered in fear.

There was no reply as the young woman stood there, transfixed with terror, unable to move. Yet even now she couldn’t escape the shocked realization that she was becoming aroused. In complete disbelief she could feel her sex twinge as the fear continued to rise within her.

What’s wrong with me, what’s happening here?

The room was completely silent for a few moments — so silent that she heard rather than felt the rustle of her clothing as something untied her skirt and let it drop to the ground.
Chelsea spun around again, but unbelievably, she could still see no one. Confused and afraid, her twat noticeably moistened, pure instinct caused her to reach over to pick up her skirt, but as she did so, strong feminine hands grabbed her panties and ripped them off her body so quickly that the young twenty-five year old brunette had not time to react before it was done.

Chelsea straightened up quickly and spun around again with terror-stricken speed. This time she caught a brief image of a stunningly beautiful naked woman gently dangling her shredded panties just before she disappeared like a puff of mist, leaving the panties to fall to the floor.

She backed carefully toward the wall, unable to believe her eyes. This was simply impossible. People didn’t appear and disappear in the real world. She’d never truly believed in the supernatural, but this was far to real, far to outside of her experience. This couldn’t be reality, it simply did not match up with anything she had imagined or experienced before. And the fire growing within her loins, where was that coming from?

“Who are you? What are you doing to me?” the young brunette shrieked.

“Playing with you, bitch. Making you mine.”

“NO!” screamed Chelsea as she backed up against the wall. “That’s not possible! You’re playing some sort of trick on me! Stop it! Stop It! STOP IT!!”

“No,” came the voice once more, alive with calm evil. It was directly in front of her.

Two hands softly but firmly pressed against the terrified woman’s breasts. Horror stricken, Chelsea looked down. She could see the fabric of her blouse moving as her unknown assailant kneaded her… her titties… and she could see and feel the skin underneath contracting and expanding to the pressure but she could see nothing else. The mix of feeling something so invisible felt like it was tearing her mind in two.

“No one there. Not happening,” she repeated, trying to start a mantra to calm herself.

“No one there.”

Or was there? Slowly, as if taking great care, an image began to form in front of her, insubstantial as smoke, but slowly gathering form and substance and then… then she saw her. Raven black hair… perfect body… and eyes… eyes that glowed blue like colored fire. So mesmerizing… so… so sexy and so fucking hot!

Chelsea had never felt the slightest sexual urge toward another woman but this… this… she could already feel her nipples hardening and her sex beginning to flow.

“Oh my God!!” the young brunette exclaimed in shocked surprise.

“Not exactly,” said the beautiful female in front of her, with a touch of sibilant humor.

Such beauty. Such lust. Her terror forgotten for the moment, she looked with wide and unblinking eyes at the vision that had captivated her with the merest glance. The woman’s voice seemed to speak from Chelsea’s own soul.

“Tell me cunt, have you ever delved into the forbidden pleasures of fucking another woman?”

The strange words shook her out of her reverie.

“No. Oh, my God, NO!! Stop this! What are you doing… what are you doing to me??” Screamed Chelsea as her nipples hardened under the sinful pleasure streaming into them.

“Oh, my, yesss. You’re such an insatiable little cunt, aren’t you bitch!! Can you feel how hard you’re getting? Yessss, I know you can. You can feel it melting your doubts away, can’t you, cunt? I could take you right now and have you screaming for more and more and more!!”

Chelsea couldn’t believe her eyes as the apparition in front of her faded and she felt the ghostly hands rip at her bodice, exposing her breasts. She felt something soft and wet fasten on her right nipple and roll it back and forth, bringing the most wonderful sensations to her increasingly willing body. She couldn’t find the thoughts or words to form even a primitive thought.

Despite herself, she could feel the fire of arousal flowing through her veins. A new and strange desire to give in to her physical arousal washed over her. How could she be thinking this way? This was all so unnatural. Unnatural. Nnnn-natural. How could she ever have not been thinking this way? Dear Lord, she felt like such an insatiable little cunt, such a bitch, so hot… so fucking hot.

A strange voice stammered words from her mouth. “Oh… Ohhhhhhh, OH, God …. NO, please … Please stop I… I need…”

“You need to rub your clit whore!! You need to ram you’re fingers up your cunt for me! Take me in bitch!!!”

“Noooooo!!” Chelsea moaned as the pleasure emanating from her breasts lashed at her mind, her will, and her reason. This was so unlike her, her blood felt like it was boiling inside of her — such passion, such depraved desire, as she had never imagined. “Nooooo, I… Oh fuck, I… fuck yesssss… who are you?”

“Rub your clit and come for me bitch, and you will find me there! Reach into your mind and see what you truly are! See what you truly desire to be and I will make it so! You know you want me to make you the hottest most desirable fuck the world has ever seen! Why resist me?”

Chelsea’s mind raced as image after image cascaded through her mind. Girls, women of all ages, screaming for her in horrific ecstasy. She could feel herself open to each, taking them in as they begged her, making them hers and her Mistress’s forever!! Oh, God, she’d never thought, never imagined!!!!

She felt so wanton, so slutty… so alive. To fuck and fuck again, everyone, everything… to be a creature of pure lust… Her body shivered with uncontrollable desire. No woman, no creature, no whore could possibly match her, no woman would be able to resist her. She could feel the talons growing within her. She would be the first, the vessel… and none would be able to resist her.

But it was wrong … so wrong oh, god, what was she going to do?

Pinned against the wall, the young brunette tried to resist as she reeled against the pure lust that raced through her nearly naked body and dangerously open mind, desperately trying to force it down, lock it away. Where had this unearthly desire come from? Whenever this thing spoke to her, she could feel her response well up inside of her. Something foreign and indescribable, something that hadn’t been there before but something within her nonetheless.

“Oh ohhhhh fuck… Oh fuck yess… I… NO… I’m not… oohhhhhhh!” the young brunette moaned as her hands strayed to her throbbing clit. “No… No, you’re doing this to meee!! I’m…. I’m not what you say…!”

“No, not yet. You are teetering on the precipice of unimaginable pleasure. All it takes is a puff of air, a single touch, a word, a lick… how I am savoring you, cunt, after waiting so long to be free. Another moment, cunt, and you will be whatever I desire you to be…”
The words passed through Chelsea, settling in the very center of her lust and passion. Suddenly, she felt silky smooth skin press upon the side of her face as a tongue gently licked and teeth nibbled her earlobe.

“Oh, FUCK YESS!!!!” she screamed, beyond thought as she fell to the pleasure of her Mistress. “OH FUCK, OH, PLEASE DO THAT AGAIN!!!”

She couldn’t help herself — stop herself — anymore as she desperately rubbed her clit and pounded her fingers deep into her cunt with maniacal passion.

“OH Fuck OH fuck OH FUCKK. OH Damn I’m fucking myself OH fucking fucking fucking OH So HOT OH So Gooooddddd OH Fuck, I’M SUCH an Insatiable CUNT, SUCK A CUNTLICKING WHORE!!!! OH DEAR GOD OH GOD, FUCK ME BITCH!!!! OH DAMNN DON’T STOP!!!!!”

“Much better cunt. I could hold you here like this for an eternity you little cunt. There is a price for cumming. Do you want to know who I am now, bitch? Do you what to know what and who is a part of you now?”

“OH, FUCK YES!!!!! OH, FUCK… YESSSSS!!!!” screamed Chelsea unable to control the onslaught of lust and passion blazing through her soul.

The voice whispered softly into the corrupted brunette’s ear.

Chelsea’s eyes grew wide with horror and her body trembled with uncontrollable lust as she screamed. “NO IT’S NOT POSSIBLE, OH GOD IT’S NOT POSSIBLE…. OH FUCKKKKK I’M COMMINGGGGG, OH FUCK MISTRESSSSSSS, I’M COMMMMINGGGGG!!!!”

Chelsea collapsed into her own juices as her body spasmed uncontrollably in rapturous orgasmic ecstasy.

“Oh dear god, what have I done?” she moaned softly as she lay on the floor. And then the horror and the truth ignited in her mind simultaneously and Chelsea screamed, a scream of hopelessness and utter despair, and this time, this time, someone heard her cries.

Lothilia gazed down at the screaming girl and smiled. So innocent, and so nearly hers.

Attractive in a soft way, but that would be changed. All that was necessary was to bring this young girl into an unholy act of pleasure with one of flesh and blood. Sadly, it was not an act the Demoness could perform herself but help was on the way. Time was short but sufficient as she sensed the approach of aid for the young girl and curled her ethereal lips and smirked.

“Very good… yes, very good indeed!”