Spellbound Ch. 02

Monster that she is, the succubus must feed regularly on the energy of others. She often has the luxury of choice in her prey, and the desire for variety is one of many vices.

Special thanks to volunteer editor stbkvln, whose recommendations and questions have contributed directly to the plot, character development, and world building. I can't wait to share more of what we've worked on in this story.

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Chapter 2

For several days, she traveled, skirting the edges of populated areas, looping wide around roads and farms which were previously unknown to her. So much of the landscape had changed in just a few short years. What new delights would she find on her journey? Whenever the opportunity arose, she stole more items of clothing from passersby, ensuring they wouldn't remember anything about her. She took a pair of breeches, a loose shirt, boots, and even a small pack to make it look as if she were a legitimate traveler. In her small excursions onto the roads, nothing besides her beauty warranted a second glance.

She slept curled under thickets or overhangs, naked whenever she could, and was careful to leave very little trace of her path as she walked. The last thing she needed was a determined hunter following her to her next territory. She even rode on a wagon for half a day to break up her scent, though it came with the cost of having to converse with a human for several hours.

Although the spring brought with it all the splendor of new life, she hated every minute of it. She would not be able to relax and enjoy it for several days more. She couldn't roam and familiarize herself with the landscape, couldn't bask in the sunlight, couldn't even risk swimming in the bright rivers which snaked through the hills. Keeping a low profile meant foregoing most of her life's pleasures for the sake of acting human. She wondered how they could stand it; the constant friction of cloth against skin, the restricted movement, the rubbing of leather straps and buckles. Perhaps the greatest mercy she granted her prey was not the pleasure of her company, but the removal of their clothing for a brief time.

The long days of travel sapped her energy, and she was grateful for the young hunter she'd fed upon beforehand. She wasn't certain how long she'd have lasted without him, but on the afternoon of the third day her appetite flared. She began to wander closer to the nearest road, her senses sharpening out of necessity. Ordinarily, she wasn't particular about her prey. She fed on whomever lived or passed through her large territory. But with the amount of small settlements, travellers, and campsites within a few short miles of her, she had a wide selection to choose from.

After several hours of silently stalking houses, farms, and camps, she found one which was far enough away from others that she wouldn't risk discovery. Their scent was tantalizing. Three men had begun setting up camp early in a rocky outcropping nestled between two hills. Their loud, joyous conversation and raucous laughter echoed off the boulders.

She strode into their view with the gait of a panther approaching a wounded deer; slow, alert, and graceful. Her eyes were sharp upon them.

"Afternoon, m'lady!" called the first who saw her. The other two looked up. "Something we can do for you?"

"Well met," she called back, "Apologies for bothering you, but I camped nearby and heard what sounded like entirely too much fun." She cocked a half-smile.

"Oh! If we're bothering you..."

"No, nothing of the sort." She descended into the dip between several large, smooth boulders. "I wish to share your fire for a while, if you've room for one more." The first man's eyebrows shot up. The second blushed. The third raked his eyes over her.

"O-of course..." stammered the second man, without even glancing at his companions to confirm. "We... ah, haven't much to offer, I'm afraid." She waved off his concerns and settled on the ground by a fire which was just beginning to grow. Though the days were steadily warming, the nights still held the aftermath of winter's chill.

"Are you travelling alone, m'lady?" asked the third man; the first time he'd spoken to her. He met her piercing gaze with a calm confidence.

"Yes," she replied, "and I confess it becomes rather boring in comparison." The other two nodded.

"I remember the first time I had to travel alone," said the first man. "My father thought it'd be smart to send a fourteen-year-old boy out to fish for greenfins in the dead of winter. Come to find out that the lake's frozen solid, the fishermen have all gone, and the greenfins don't even swim there outside of their breeding season!" He chuckled. "Imagine my surprise when I come home to find he'd mysteriously met the perfect woman in the three days I was gone." They all laughed.

"By the gods, was that your stepmother?"

"Aye."

"I always wondered how your father managed to bag a beauty like her! But I suppose everything seems more charming without your ugly face hanging around, eh?" More hearty laughter eased the tension as they teased one another and settled around the fire. She prodded and encouraged them, keeping the conversation flowing comfortably. The first man who'd spoken with her introduced himself as Alon, and produced a flagon of wine from his pack. That certainly explained why they'd elected to make camp early that afternoon. The second man, Eric, offhandedly passed her the flagon after he'd downed two large gulps. She accepted it gratefully, though it wouldn't have any effect on her.

"And what was your name, m'lady?" asked Alon. He was an older man, with skin which had seen years of sun, and hair and beard just beginning to show gray.

"Maira," she said. It was close enough to her true name.

"And why are you travelling alone, Maira? And where to?" Cyrus, the third man, met her gaze without immediately glancing away as the other two did. He was slightly younger, perhaps still in his prime, with skin even darker than her own. He was short and stocky, with a close cropped beard and shaven head. Maira held his gaze.

"Guess," she said with a slight smile as she passed the flagon to him.

"Catching the final winter market in Edinran?" said Eric, barely looking up from the fire. He was only a few years younger than Alon, thin and timid. He was constantly wringing his hands and glancing in her direction, as if afraid to make eye contact. She ruled him out. She was in the mood for something different, and had had her fill of shyness.

"No," she said. "Guess again." She watched Alon with interest, wondering what sort of desires he harbored. Were they tame and conventional? Had he already had the opportunity to act on them in his long years? Or did his unassuming exterior hide a fetish which he'd never be able to indulge with ordinary women? He eyed her with a casual interest, rubbing his beard contemplatively.

"You don't seem like the type for fanciful things," he said. "You're visiting family up north, now that the snow's begun to clear." A good guess, and one which showed his own motivations.

"A possible side journey," said Maira, "but not the primary purpose."

They went on guessing for a while, eventually becoming sidetracked and discussing their own planned hunting expedition. Cyrus, however, looked like he was still attempting to evaluate her. She frequently caught him looking in her direction, and he didn't bother to conceal it whenever she saw. As the minutes passed, he grew bolder. His eyes snaked over her body, not bothering to hurry or appear subtle. She stretched out on the ground, spreading out and making herself quite comfortable.

Maira began to contemplate whether she might take both Cyrus and Alon that night. They seemed to have known each other for several years. Perhaps she'd test the limits of how well they truly knew one another, and leave them with no conscious memories of the event. That was always a treat; wondering what new knowledge men would acquire of their companions, without remembering how they'd learned it. She loved watching them violate their limits and discover new delights.

But then, Alon mentioned his wife in passing, and she ruled him out. That left Cyrus.

"Aye, and my brother told me the women in Karshvale are as demure as they are soft. Meaning no offense, m'lady," said Cyrus with a smile, "but a man knows what he wants."

Does he? She thought. Let us find out.

"Alon, Eric, you grow tired. Go to sleep," she commanded. They were compelled to obey, and rose while stretching and muttering about the wine acting too quickly. Cyrus watched them quizzically, and then turned to her.

"What...?" He didn't finish the thought. Maira remained in her relaxed pose, watching them dance to her song.

"Tell me," she commanded, "what have you been thinking about me?" He smiled and cocked his head at her, as if intrigued and delighted she'd asked. He was compelled to answer truthfully.

"I've wanted to get my hands on you from the moment I saw you. I could barely contain myself." His hands clenched and unclenched. "I kept trying to figure out a way I could tempt a beauty like you."

"And if I hadn't been receptive, would you have taken me anyway?" He paused. His jaw stiffened and his gaze intensified.

"Possibly," he growled, "if I could have managed it."

"Well now," said Maira, "that wasn't the answer I expected." He took another swig of wine. When he spoke, his voice was lower and softer, his eyes flashing in the sun.

"How could I be expected to resist you? Your body calls out for me to rip your clothing from it." The look he gave her was, she imagined, the one which she typically gave her prey. Hard and hungry. His eyes bored into her like a bobcat staring down a lion. He was fearless, and already overcome with longing. She felt her body quiver in response.

Maira stood and walked past him, towards a more isolated overhang of rocks and boulders.

"Come with me," she said, extending her hand. Her enchantment surged towards him,and he leapt to his feet. She led him away from the campsite, and felt his hand flushed with heat. As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned and kissed him.

He needed no further prompting, and his mouth responded by assaulting hers. His hands groped her forcefully. He held her fast against his body with barely restrained strength. His lips, full and rough, breathed a contented sigh which contrasted their urgency. Cyrus was several inches shorter than her, making him the perfect height when he began kissing down her jawline towards her neck. He tangled his fingers in Maira's hair and tugged lightly to the side, exposing more of her nut-brown skin. He continued exploring with his mouth, nibbling as he went.

A man who knows what he wants, indeed. Maira was elated with her choice; any effort on her part was practically unnecessary. And his burning need for her was plain in the way he was touching whatever he could reach. His lips felt wonderful against the nape of her neck, and she thought of putting them to better use.

Cyrus backed her against a nearby boulder, pinning her to it, and slid his hands up her stolen tunic. The thick fabric was loose and shapeless on her, but she could see this had only driven his imagination wild. His curiosity needed to be satisfied. He worked fast, slipping the tunic over her head in a well-practiced motion, exposing her soft skin to the late afternoon air. He felt up the slim outline of her waist, tracing along her ribs, and let out a satisfied grunt as his hands met her breasts. He squeezed greedily. Harder than most men dared. He flicked a thumb over one of her nipples, and then pinched it lightly, as if testing her. A soft moan escaped Maira's lips, and she arched her back. That was all the encouragement he needed, and he began to pinch and tug with more force. The sensation, bordering on pain, was captivating.

Cyrus pressed his hips against hers, as if to keep her from escaping, and she felt the swell of his manhood aching to be freed. She rocked her hips forward, and heard him grunt in her ear. Strain was clear in his deep voice. The friction drove Maira mad, and she wrapped a leg partially around him wanting more.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he growled into her neck. She chuckled as she shifted her hips once more.

"Of course," she murmured, then gasped as he rolled one of her nipples sharply between his fingers.

She set to work removing his shirt, and soon felt his warm chest pinning her to the cool stone at her back. She wrapped both arms around him and dug in lightly with her fingernails, encouraging him. His primal desire rippled under thick, dense skin. She would set it loose.

He slid a hand into her breeches, and his touch became swift and gentle. She tipped her head back and allowed herself to enjoy what he had to offer. He applied soft pulses of pressure; deft, skilled movements which reflected years of experience. If she'd allowed him to continue, she might've climaxed right then and there. But Maira had better plans.

She abruptly pushed him away and peeled off the remainder of her clothing, feeling comfortable at last. The air was beginning to cool as sunset neared, and a breeze kissed her legs and feet. Cyrus began to unlace his own trousers, but she stopped him.

"Ah ah," she chided with a smile, "not just yet." He looked as if he might implode. A ravenous beast showed in his expression. She strode to another nearby boulder with a flat, smooth surface, and reclined serenely on it. She took a moment to stretch out and settle herself, and watched Cyrus stare at her out of the corner of her eye. His jaw and neck were stiff, his forearms tense, while his eyes combed over her from head to toe. "Kneel," she ordered, gesturing to the ground before the boulder and spreading her legs. He obeyed.

He attempted to slide on top of her for a moment before she corrected him, placing her hand on the smooth skin of his head and guiding him between her thighs. He finally understood, and went about his work in earnest.

He slid his hands over her legs and belly, his once-rough touch becoming smooth and delicate. He kissed and licked everywhere but where she wanted at first, his hot breath caressing her like a butterfly's wings in the summer sun. When she felt as if she could no longer stand it, his lips finally met hers.

A jolt went through her spine as his tongue slid over her clit, and she was already dripping with anticipation. She kept one hand on the back of his head, feeling every movement as he dutifully licked her. He wasn't particularly skilled in the manner which she enjoyed it, but with her instruction he learned swiftly. Her magic and his enthusiasm made him quite adept at pleasuring her, and in mere minutes it seemed as if he'd been custom made to serve his mistress. His beard tickled as he plunged his tongue inside her intermittently, as deep as it would go, barely able to breathe as he did so.

Maira lifted her head briefly and took in the sight of him. This man, who desired complete control and dominance, knelt in service to her. And he loved it. His posture and expression showed obvious passion, and his tongue worked with swift fervor. Following her suggestions, he sealed his lips around her clit and applied light suction, while hammering his tongue in rapid-fire flicks. Maira's world began to spin, and her head dropped back. She moaned and arched her back, bucking her hips into his face. Her lips parted and her breath came in stops and gasps, as every flick of his tongue sent a jolt through her body. His plump lips and hot breath caused her perception to shrink to a pinpoint, and he drew heady moans from deep within her.

He didn't slow, didn't let up, and his persistence threw her over the edge. She pulled his head towards her with a clawed hand, and shoved herself against his mouth, thrusting out the waves of her climax. His tongue writhed against her, obliging her demand. Her body quivered once, twice, and then collapsed onto the boulder's rough surface. Cyrus finally pulled away and gasped for air, his face flushed and sweating. His beard was wet, and his lips swollen with effort. He looked up at her, panting slightly, while a carnal hunger raged in his eyes.

It wasn't often that Maira indulged in purely physical climaxes while preying on men. She felt theirs whenever she stole their body and energy, so there wasn't much need to. But, every now and again, she'd demand more of them. She knew how she liked it, and had the power to instruct any human who was willing to please her. And they were all willing.

Maira sat up, meeting his gaze, and leaned in close. She traced a finger lightly along the waistline of his trousers.

"How do you like to take your women?" she asked in a low voice.

"Bent over," he snarled. And before she could react, he seized her by the arms and flung her to her feet. He wrapped a broad arm about her waist and snatched one of her wrists, nearly crushing her in his grasp. He led her to another boulder, and shoved her towards it, where she immediately braced herself and bent forward. Her long black hair obscured her smile.

Cyrus struggled out of his trousers with fumbling hands, nearly tearing the fabric in the process. Just as she was glancing back over her shoulder, he hooked a hand in the crook of her hip, and shoved his full length inside her.

Pure animal aggression surged through her, setting her ablaze with ferocity. She cried out as his raw lust penetrated her. The primal power which he loved so much was now hers to enjoy; he practically wanted to rip her apart. Cyrus released a long, low moan which tapered off into curses. He then began a forceful but steady rhythm, filling and stretching her, slick against the walls of her cunt. He ran his hands along her sides, from waist to hips, and then grabbed two handfuls of her ass to use as leverage. Maira's forearms ground against the rock she'd braced against, and her feet dug into the dirt. It was all she could do to hold herself in place against the onslaught of force punctuated by soft grunts. She felt him drinking in the sight of her, intoxicated by the way she presented herself for him, and the way he thought she belonged to him. Like an alpha wolf, he had captured and taken his mate, and he would have what he wanted of her. He was a beast made man.

Maira felt it all as if it were her own, siphoning the plentiful desire and power from him. He was easy to satisfy, and gave so much in return. His skin was thick and abrasive against hers, but she felt cool and feather-soft in his hands.

Cyrus leaned forward over her, reaching towards her shoulder. She thought he might grab her arm to pull her against him, but was surprised when he gathered a fistful of her hair instead. He yanked her head back, eliciting a shocked gasp, and began pulling with every thrust. A solid smack accompanied each one, echoing off the nearby rocks. She moaned in delight, arching her back and grinding into him. He quickened his pace. Her knees bent slightly, barely able to withstand the rate at which he was pounding deeply into her. She had kept him waiting for so long that she could feel he was already close. His cock was as hard as the stone beneath her arms as it rammed into her.

Cyrus stared at the spot where he entered her, watching as her lips gripped tightly all around him, and was barely aware of anything else. A string of curses spilled between his clenched teeth. Beads of sweat ran down his brow and chest, and a touch of his masculine scent colored the air. The fire of his need burned along Maira's nerves, setting her alight and bathing her in heat. Had she been human, the seemingly impossible rate of his thrusts may have broken her, but for her there was only pleasure. He panted with the effort, digging his fingernails into her skin and clinging to it. The gift of his greatest desire belonged to the succubus now; he had wanted to take women like this for a very long time, but none had been willing. He'd dreamed of it often. She was his fantasy made flesh.