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Keeping watch, twenty years later

Pillow Stories

The Storm

by Mary McGinis
(12/15/10)

Outside the windows of the snug little cottage, a wind-whipped storm raged. Tree branches scraped and scratched, menacing sounds penetrating her deep sleep. She came to full wakefulness slowly, listening from deep within the downy bed covers as the squealing, screeching banshee sounds of wind and rain lashed the woods around the house. A gibbous moon glowed intermittently through branches that raked its luminous face. She sat up, trying her bedside light. She clicked the switch on and off. Nothing. The power was out.

She turned to her man, snoring gently next to her. Even in sleep, he was so handsome, his golden skin glowing with the light of an inner sun. She felt the familiar warm rush of desire, and just as quickly squelched it. Although she longed to lift the covers and bury her face in the warm fur surrounding his placid sleeping cock, she didn't dare.

He needed his sleep, and she wasn't sure how he would feel about being wakened with no warning, her head and tongue doing things to him she hadn't asked permission for. She tried to ignore the insistent pangs of desire, but she was quickly getting wet thinking about his beautiful, glorious cock that she loved to lick and suckle on like a baby, drinking down his milky semen as often as he would let her.

He was too busy for her demanding little tongue and mouth, and she was, as he'd said once, "cock hungry," so to spare him and give him time to work, she'd stopped insisting he open his pants for her as often as she wanted, and now she went without nourishment far too often. This is what happened when a succubus chose to take human form, however, and she knew there was a price to be paid. And now, she thought with bitterness, she was paying it. Her hunger was constant, and he was merely mortal, but he was so beautiful, the pain was almost worth it.

"Honey," she whispered, shaking him a little. "Honey, the power's gone out! It's a bad storm!" He murmured something she couldn't hear and rolled onto his side facing her, one long, strong golden-haired lion's paw extended out to her side of the bed. He wouldn't wake up easily, she knew, so, slightly irritated, she sighed, knowing he could sleep through anything. She was awake, feeling alone in the midst of a raging storm. Lighting a candle against the blackness, she left him in bed, snoring, and went downstairs to make some soothing chamomile tea, something female humans seemed to rely on at times like this.

Sipping from her mug of steaming tea, she sat and listened to the straining noises of the branches as they threatened to snap and break. The trees were so close to the windows, and their long, thin, denuded arms reached for the dark glass, reminding her of home, where all was dark except for the heat and light of her Lord and Master, who reigned over the underworld. He frequently loaned out his succubi to the mortal world, although the men above did not know who they had let into their beds. Meanwhile her Lord reveled in the knowledge that up above, men were being forced into carnality almost -- but not quite, given the nature of men -- against their wishes.

One deep night of inky blackness in the crypt they all shared, her Lord had visited his harem of demonic women, and listened, patiently, one by one, to their supplications. "Oh, Lord, grant me that I might lie with this mortal," each succubus implored, and the Dark Lord would grant her wish or not, depending on whether he wanted to cause torment to yet another soul on earth. Frequently, the Dark One was simply bored, and enjoyed knowing that one of his minions was out of his clutches for the moment, for he thrilled at the power of retrieving the succubus when he'd had enough vicarious pleasure observing her antics through the glassy portal that allowed him access to the human world.

At times, he could be a very understanding Owner, and would remind his little ones what they owed him for granting them their temporary freedom. "Come back to me refreshed, little slave," he'd say, chuckling from deep inside his huge, hairy chest, feeling magnificently abundant in granting his servants their wishes. He loved giving them this taste of freedom, knowing that chains still bound them to Him. Then when he granted his beloved succubi, who had, after all, given him continuous pleasure, their insignificant wishes, he felt munificent and generous, and commanded the new succubi-in-training to taste of his demonic cocks, all three of them, which sprouted and rolled out, lizard-like, from between his enormous red legs, three rods of flame the succubi suckled from.

The succubus, sitting in her mortal kitchen, sighed. Her memories of home were so sweet to her, and she was beginning to miss her Lord. The human was delicious, but his stamina was limited, and at times he made her feel as though she shouldn't do the one thing she knew he adored, which was suck his cock all day and night. He claimed it wore him out. She shook her head in disbelief. Mortal men were a quandary! On the one hand, they claimed to love it so much, and to chase a mortal woman's pussy was their one obsession. Yet when they had a willing mouth to service their every need or desire, they would become tired. How was this possible? It would never make sense to her. Succubi could pleasure their Lord endlessly, and he could be pleasured endlessly. It was in the nature of the succubi to do so, and their hunger felt eternal.

And her hunger was overpowering now. Putting down the tepid swill that was this human brew, she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. She was entirely willing, as a well-trained succubus, to cater to every whim of her earthly master. Her Dark Lord had trained her well. The night's noises did not abate; if anything, the storm outside grew increasingly dangerous, with winds heightening. She heard trees' limbs snapping off, cracking loud, their fragile arms desiccated bones, dry and brittle. She loved it; she gloried in these harsh sounds, so much like home, with its shrill crying and constant wailing. Banshees and succubi, witches and screaming ghosts, shades from the underworld, all vying for their Lord's attention: this was her accustomed world, so unlike the pallid grey of the "real" world she inhabited for the sake of her lover's human touch.

The succubus shivered with anticipation, and, removing her nightclothes, a frivolous human invention, she slinked under the pure white down covers. Her man's hand was now under her waist, and instinctively, in sleep, he curved it around her and drew her to him. She relished this sensation. The one advantage to being human was that it allowed her the feeling of this skin. Succubi sacrificed many things to worship the Dark One; the one thing she missed most was the feeling, the texture, and the smell of human skin. Her own flesh was cold, green, and damp. She didn't like it. Its smell was of the earth, musty, like something that had been buried too long and dug up. In human form, however, she smelled sweet and appeared utterly desirable.

His flesh was shockingly hot to her touch, and she smelled, somewhere on his body, the intoxicating tiny drop of semen he'd oozed at some point during the night. Her hunger awakened again, this time undeniable. He had her on a starvation diet. To be fair, she was insatiable -- yes, she was branded as greedy even amongst the other succubi, who all knew her proclivities. However, in her defense, she thought, this is what we live on. I need his seed to survive. In spite of her training, she pouted a little as she rested her dark head against his strong, hairy chest. She couldn't help the hunger and what it made her do, and she was so tired of feeling defensive.

I simply need sperm, she thought. It's not like I'm asking for something he doesn't have a lot of! To a succubi, who lived off human males, his sperm was not "like" milk -- it was a nourishing food, the only thing that could keep a succubi alive above ground. They had to have it to survive. She thought again of all her training, how a good, well-behaved succubus never took without asking permission first, but this human was always saying no these days. She couldn't help it, she decided. I have to! I need it so badly! I'm starving, but even she could hear the whining tone in her head. No matter, he'll make more!

Not yet desperate, she was able to contain her lust enough to lick his chest, the tiny tongue lapping and kissing as she made her way down, down, down, to the flaccid flesh that promised her salvation. His cock lay peaceful and sweet, wrinkled and brown against his leg. He was covered in golden hair, just like his golden skin, and she loved, in her human form, to feel the hairs tickling her face and nose. She reached the source of her happiness and nutrition with her penetrating red demon tongue. Its tip snaked into the tiny human hole at the top of her world, the summit of his manhood. Momentarily dizzy from the scent, she pulled her head back, and sniffed in the aroma of sunshine and vanilla cake. This human smelled so good, like a bakery in the middle of a meadow!

A little delirious, she began gently, oh-so-gently sucking and licking. She loved this so! She rested her head against his leg. He squirmed a little, but opened his legs wider, still asleep. Does he feel this, she wondered? But he only stirred, he did not wake, while she continued her cat-tongued lapping. His cock grew and grew, making her crazy with come-lust. She wanted his semen, yes, each tasty, creamy drop, but she also enjoyed the teasing sensation of knowing it was building deep inside his balls, getting ready to flow into her sensitive, hot succubus mouth.

A good succubus knows when to suck hard, and when to lick and nip gently. A properly trained succubus knows to lap up every drop, and not to let one single dribble of sperm go unattended. Her Lord trained her to be attentive to a human's needs, and not to simply attack and take the human for nourishment. She was very well behaved. And so she hoped the human would awake and feel pleasure, and in fact, that's exactly what happened. He woke up while she was running the tip of her tongue over and around his meaty glans. She knew that was a particularly sensitive place on his cock, and so she hesitatingly swirled her tongue over it, since she didn't want to upset him by forcing him to wake up against his will.

The winds blew louder and louder, and in their shrieking, she heard the cry of the minions of her Lord. They were calling her back, asking where she was and if she would soon be rejoining them. She couldn't answer though -- her mouth was full. Her man awoke, tenderly running his hands through her long black hair. "What's this?" he asked, sleepily, raising his groin up to her mouth. He wasn't protesting; that was a good sign.

She pulled off of him, and, without wiping her mouth, said, "I wanted to surprise you," and began worshipping his cock again, fully this time, knowing she had permission. Feeling slightly less guilty, she swirled and tongued him until at last his groans of pleasure told her the moment was now, and he came, suddenly filling her mouth with the food she longed for. She was so grateful! She was starving! At last she could drink and drink, for he was full of semen tonight, his veins pumping cream into her ravaging mouth long after she thought he'd be done.

She lay almost sated afterward, her mouth still wrapped around his cock, catching the tiniest drip of life-giving milk. The taste in her mouth was like flower petals -- sharp and green, tinny and sweet, all at once. These humans were so interesting! So many varied tastes, each man's body a smörgåsbord of flavors. You never knew, once you'd latched a greedy mouth onto a cock, what might come out, but you could be sure it would be different each time.

The two fell asleep like that, her mouth softly cradling his cock. He slept blissfully and deep; she slept the sleep of succubi who have been summoned home. In the moment before dawn, her human form disintegrated, and all that was left of her when he awoke in the morning was a slight green glimmer in the air over the bed of a form that had once been hers, but was now only a memory. The birds sang and the sky was blue after the night's storm, but his house and bed were empty.

©2010 by Mary McGinis

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Mary McGinis is new to writing erotica, although not new to writing fiction. Her interest in the sex life of demonic creatures stems from a lifelong love of fantasy, sci-fi, and horror. She is currently working on an erotica novella, and a murder mystery set in Ancient Athens.


Art by Thomas M. Kurek.




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