This forms part of a supernatural sex collection that, one day I will get around to releasing as a book of short stories.
This story and Part 1 The Girl From the Rain are both Free to Read
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Succubus Lover’s Revenge
Mikaela’s tongue, that strange forked protuberance, has worked its magic on me but when I open my eyes her lustrous green skin seems to have faded to grey and her golden yellow eyes with their cat like vertical black pupils are dimmed.
I am sitting on the bed in the alcove of my one room cottage and she is sitting at the end of the bed, her back to the wall, in almost the same position as when I first saw her true form.
Now, instead of recoiling as I first did, I move toward her.
“You are not well,” I brush my fingers across her cheek.
“I need to feed.” She looks down.
“We could go to the village. There are men there who deserve your attentions.”
“I am weak, I do not know if I have the power to change to my human form and seduce them.”
“Can you feed on me?” I look into her eyes. “ I mean, preferably, without killing me. Can you take enough to regain your power?”
“Yes,” she pauses, “I think so. I have never fed on a woman before.”
“Will it hurt?” I ask.
“No,” she smiles. “Exactly the opposite. You will feel intense pleasure but I must stop before I drain you dry.”
“Then do it.” I lie back. “Now.”
Her tongue snakes out and runs up the inside of my thigh. I spread my legs and felt it delicately play across my lips, the forked ends caressing me like human fingers. Then she is inside, pushing into me as if she was male.
I cry out, a long scream of pleasure and my body arches. I can feel my lifeblood coursing through my body, sweeping down between my legs in waves. My vision darkens and fades as a wave of pure pleasure rises within me. My whole world, my whole being, seem focused entirely on the sensations and then, I feel as if my sex is gushing forth, pouring out new life like a male organ.
She pulls her tongue from me and I flop back down onto the bed. “Please, don’t stop,” I gasp. The sensation of loss is so intense my body aches.
“I must.” She looks concerned.
I try to sit up but feel weak and my head is dizzy.
“Lay still, I have weakened you.” She places a hand tenderly on my mouth. I notice that her fingers are white with a hint of pink, like human flesh.
I force my eyes to focus. Her other self, the pretty, lithe, girl who had come into my house from the rain, rises from the bed. She turns and opens the drawer where we had placed her white dress the day after she arrived. Slipping it on she turns back to me.
I struggle to prop myself up onto my elbows. “Mikaela, when you get to the village there are two men, one is rough, dark curly hair and a beard. He has a tattoo of a scorpion on his wrist. The other is big, muscular, blonde haired. He smiles innocently but there is evil in his eyes. They are the ones you want. There are other bad men in the village but also some good ones, try not to take one of them.”
“Rest,” she leans down and kisses me. “And do not worry, I will know evil when I see it and I will return soon.”
She is gone.
***
When I awake the light was fading. I swing my legs off the bed and manage to stand. Some of my strength is returning. I slip on my dress and go outside. The air is still warm and I am aware that I am moving slowly, like an old woman but the chickens want feeding and I need to draw water from the well.
I am leaning on the wall around the well wondering how I can summon the strength to haul the bucket up when rough hands grab me from behind.
“Where is she?” a familiar voice snarls in my ear. I turn my head and feel his beard against my cheek. “Come on, she’s been parading around the village asking for it. She’s taken Marcus into the woods, now I want some.”
“She’s not here.” I try to spin around and jam my elbow into his ribs but in my weakened state, it is more like a gentle nudge.
“In that case, you’ll do.” He shoves me forward, bending me forward over the wall of the well. I scream as I feel his hands scrabbling my dress up and his feet kicking my legs apart. “Shut up, you enjoyed it last time.”
“No you bastard,” I shout, my voice echoing down the well.
I feel his hard flesh pressing against my thighs, searching for the opening and I twist against the pressure of his hands.
There is a blur of green, something flashes past my eyes and the pressure on me is released. I spin around. He is on his back, ten meters away, his erection sticking up like a totem pole. Mikaela, the real Mikaela is crouched over him.
“This what you wanted? she hisses and rams herself onto him.
He flinches and then screams. His arms flail as if he is trying to swim backstroke away, but there is no water.
In response, her talons tear through his shirt and scour into his flesh. She bucks on him as if she is riding a bronco and throws her head back. A blast of light pours from her mouth as if a furnace has been opened. It spreads out in the air and then settles over the yard like a golden mist.
I look down at my attacker. His body seems to have folded in on itself. It is dark and wrinkled as if he had died and been laid out in the sun.
Mikaela stands and turns toward me. “I’m sorry,” she looks down at the corpse.
“No don’t be,” I step close to her and touch her cheek. “You saved me.”
“I did not want you to see that or…” she looks up at the mist, “or experience this”.
It seemed to be swirling around me like a cloud of tiny gold particles. I breathed it in, it smelt of her but there was the strange taste of unknown, flavours on my tongue.
I looked at my fingers, turned my palm over and peered at it in the fading light. Was it my imagination or was there a hint of green to my skin?
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