The Generator: The Succubae Seduction (31 page)

BOOK: The Generator: The Succubae Seduction
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It makes sense, kinda. Every time we’d been together, she’d had in a different persona. This is the first time anyone has seen the real Angelica in centuries. She’d already been a bit nervous about showing me her true self, and the prospect of showing me even more must terrify her.

Carefully I walk through the wet sand over to the short black woman and rest my hand on her shoulder. “Angela,” I say, keeping my voice soft and gentle, “It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. I care for you as a person, not because of what you can do or how you look, but because of who you are inside.” Applying a bit of pressure, I’m able to convince her to turn and face me. I place my fingers under her chin, and lift her face until her brown eyes meet mine. “When we first got together, you told me that you always try to help people with your ability. I can’t tell you how much of a help you’ve been to me, even if it did throw me into a whole new chaotic world.” She tries to look away at that statement, but I don’t let her. “Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are. Be ashamed of others for not accepting the real you.”

The succubus’s dark eyes search mine and seeing only perfect honesty there, she pulls me tight to her, burying her head on my chest.

“You don’t know who I was, though,” she cries to me. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“But I know who you are now, and I know what you’ve done for all of us here,” I counter.

Lisa comes up to us and pulls Angela away from me. “The past is a place that’s nice to visit,” she says, “but the present is where we live. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a beautiful woman, and you have some amazing abilities. Don’t be ashamed of that.”

The two women hug again, and I can’t hold back the warmth that infuses me as I watch Angela accept what we’re saying.

“Now then,” Lisa says, a grin splitting her pretty face, “now that that’s over, I’m dripping wet from more than just the rain, and I think our Generator over there could use some fuel, before we get some rest tonight.”

Both women veritably tackle me to the ground, smothering me is kisses. In less time than I thought possible, they have me completely stripped, hard, and moaning in rapid succession.

Lisa is the first to get my cock between her lips, and Angela shoves her healthy dark breasts into my mouth.

“I hope you meant everything you said,” Angela whispers to me quietly enough, that I doubt Lisa can hear me over the sound of her delightfully swallowing my cock. “Because I think you’re going to be stuck with me for a long while.”

I’m not sure if it’s her words, or the feeling of my stiff rod slipping down the back of Lisa’s throat, but I moan loudly into the tasty teats filling my mouth. Angela’s arms wrap around my head, and pull me tighter to her chest. Using my left hand, I find her crotch, and am only slightly surprised by the amount of curly hair I find there. When she’d originally been in this form, trimming the nethers likely would have been unheard of. Even so, I’m able to find her already sopping slit, and slip two fingers inside her.

I wonder about this woman, who had once been human, and without warning, her past opens up to me as she begins to orgasm.

She was a slave back in the 1600’s. Her mother had been a Chinese whore, offered to her father for saving their master’s life. Being of mixed blood had only made her life harder. Their master’s son had taken great pleasure in tormenting the slaves, especially the women, and even more so Angelica. For some reason he loved to focus on her. One day he would treat her with flowers, making sure everyone saw. The other slaves would regard her with jealousy as if she were trying to curry special favors, only for him to turn around the next day and have her beaten for no reason.

Every day brought something different from the wealthy son. Every day, he came up with some new way to torment her. The worst was the day he killed her parents. Their crime? Giving birth to a monstrosity of mixed blood, Angelica.

A wizened old woman, who many claimed was cursed and possessed, took pity on her, and offered to take her to a man of great power that could help. Angelica had been desperate to find a better way of life, and agreed to the man’s terms.

They would swap a portion of each other’s souls. He would gain power and insight from her portion, and she would gain the ability to exact her revenge from his piece of ambiance.

She had noticed the type of girls he took to his room every night, and every night it was a different one. Combining the aspects of what she felt were his favorite fetishes, she was able to change her form.

Originally, she had meant only to be invited in, and then strangle him in his sleep.

Once in his room, however, he was so kind and sweet, that she thought that maybe he could be different. The thought of actually killing him became harder and harder as the night went on, and she found she was beginning to care for him, despite his crimes against her.

Of course, he didn’t know she was the poor slave of mixed blood that he always tormented, and she couldn’t know that this was how he treated every woman he’d brought up here. She was too young and naïve. He was very good at using women and leaving them. She had no experience with this or any real kindness, and as one thing led to another, he took her virginity.

It was only after he was done with his climax, and she was in the afterglow of her own, that he began to brag about the torments he treated upon one lowly excuse for a slave, Angelica.

Internally, she was torn. The bliss she had just experienced in his bed was unlike anything she’d ever had or thought could exist, but his attitude recalled all the things his sweet words had obscured minutes before.

She didn’t know what made her perform her next actions, but she took him in her mouth, licking the blood from her broken hymen from his cock. He’d thought he was in heaven as a woman that looked like the most beautiful goddess in the world to him, debased herself before his manhood. He even enjoyed their little game as she tied him up with his own sheets, before straddling his hips, slipping his meager cock back into her swollen pussy, and rocking her hips forcefully against him. He was hard and very turned on by her lascivious nature. Had he found his soul-mate?

Only, when he came in her grasping cunt, she didn’t stop. She continued to ride him, keeping him hard. Time after time he came, but she never stopped, and never lessened her pace. With each ejaculation, Angelica could feel herself getting stronger and stronger. Each time he pumped his seed into her womb, a new wave of pleasure swept over her, and she never wanted it to stop. She lost all track of time as eventually, her bliss became one extended orgasm.

She couldn’t even hear his screams and pleas for her to stop, that she was killing him. It wasn’t until his final orgasm, when she felt the last of his soul meld with hers that she understood what she had done.

She had killed him through sex, and in so doing, become a creature of sex, herself. Addicted to the pleasure of the act, she nevertheless remembered that night to this day. Even though she had originally intended to kill her master’s son, the very act of the crime still weighs heavily on her conscience.

I come out of her mind and past as I feel the succubus’s body shift atop mine, and Lisa aims my tool for Angela’s slit. Her tiny coochy begins to slide down my rod, and for once her pussy doesn’t try to conform to my rod, but instead gets stretched wide.

“Now you know,” Angela’s almond shaped brown eyes look deep into mine. She pauses, my prick’s head barely inside her. There is fear and worry deep in her gaze, but I know it’s unfounded.

“And I don’t care about that, my sweet Angelica.” The grin that splits her face nearly brings out the sun in this rain soaked place, and her face drops down to mine as she kisses me with more passion than I’ve ever experienced before.

“Don’t keep his mouth busy too long,” Lisa says, oblivious to the events that have just taken place.

“Just keep licking my asshole,” Angela says over her shoulder. Rain drips from the dark woman’s hair, into my face, and I latch onto one of her brown nipples, using her body as a shield from the torrent. Angela is only about halfway down my pole, when I feel my head bump against her deepest parts. I also feel some other movement, and realize that Lisa must be fingering the succubus’s bung hole.

When her orgasm strikes, it washes over me with so much strength, that I’m reminded of the power of TanaVesta. I have to fight hard to retain a sense of my own identity as unadulterated bliss blasts through my soul.

When I’m finally able to grasp a sense of my surroundings again, I decide I’m sick of feeling sand against my back, and roll us over. Slowly, gently, I set an easy pace, wanting this time to last as long as possible.

Lisa comes around and plants her pussy on Angela’s soft lips, placing her own against mine. Her tongue dives into my mouth as she moans at the paradise the succubus’s tongue is taking her to. I can feel the martial artists fingers begin to rub against Angela’s clit, causing the four-hundred year old woman’s cunt to tighten on my own rod as she spasms in delight.

Breaking the kiss, I lean forward a bit, and take Lisa’s smaller tits in my hands, guiding one taught nipple to my lips. Dropping my right hand down, I find the blonde’s clit, and rub it vigorously as she rides Angela’s tongue to her own orgasm.

While I still feel the power of her climax washing over me, I stand up, pulling out of the dark skinned beauty, picking Lisa up, spin her around, and slam my cock deep into her vagina. Within seconds my balls are slapping against her clit as I pound into her.

Angela scoots back on the sand, and Lisa is flexible enough to bend in half. She starts to suck the other woman’s juices right from the source.

Watching the light skinned athlete eat out the ebony bombshell is really turning me on, and I know I’m getting close. As good as Lisa’s inner folds feel wrapped around my penis, I decide to dump my load into Angela. She’d wanted it before, and as long as I choose not to get her pregnant, we should be good.

I wait until I can sense Angela getting close by the sound of her moans, before pulling out of Lisa, dropping to my knees, and sliding back into the prostrate woman. Lisa has to plant her hands above Angela’s shoulders as I plant my mouth forcefully against her labia. The two women begin to kiss madly as I feel both of their orgasms wash over me. The sensations are too strong. I lose all sense of who or what I am as I fire my seed deep into the one-time slave’s womb.

Our souls mix and mingle, our minds becoming one, and for a bit my strongest desire is to be with these two forever. Or is it their desire to be with me? I can no longer tell, nor do I even care anymore as I continue to pump my cock into Angela, making squelching noises as I churn what seems like a never-ending stream of impotent cum inside her.

I don’t notice when I fall back into the sand breathless, but I do become slightly aware of who I am again, when Lisa slips my softening member into her twat. She leans forward, and tries to suck my cum from the succubus’s sweet cunt.

It’s going to be a long night, I realize, but I don’t think I’m going to mind. At least the rain has lightened to barely a drizzle. I’m also glad that the wind isn’t blowing in this incessant storm.

I just hope AnnaBelle is able to get some rest before we storm the home of Varun, the Pillar of Water, tomorrow.

 

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Chapter 14

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The Prophecy

 

“It’s no good,” I call out, looking at the spinning tires of my car. The Orange Bubble’s undercarriage is flush against the sand and no amount of pushing is going to get her free.

Thankfully all the dents and dings the dang Grindylows had put in her yesterday have healed and my car looks almost new again. I’m still finding it hard to believe that only a short while ago, it had been a burned up husk. The connection between the Orange Bubble and Angela still doesn’t make complete sense to me, but at least I have them both here now.

The succubus, in her Amazon form to help push, brushes off her hands, shaking her head. “It’s not far to Varun’s demesne, but it’ll take a while to swim that far, and we’ll be tired by the time we arrive. Not good conditions for rescuing someone.”

We’ve tried digging the car out, but the constant rain just runs the sand back into our holes. We’ve tried to find some wood or something to put under the tires so that they can get some traction, but everything is just too wet.

“We have company,” Lisa says warily. I turn to follow her gaze. She was also helping push, while AnnaBelle ran the steering wheel and pedals.

A single Grindylow, old, wrinkled, tentacles crooked at odd angles beneath it, and stooped with age is watching us. By the way it’s holding its trident, I can tell that he needs it for support. At least, I think it’s a ‘he’. The large body of water sits behind the short creature as it examines us with its large, shimmering, bulbous black eyes.

“I don’t think he means us any harm,” Angela murmurs beside me.

“Are you truly a Generator?” the green creature asks me. His voice is rough as though speaking while out of the water takes some extra effort.

I nod, not really knowing what to say. This seems to get the little thing agitated, his many tentacles flapping against the sand. I prepare myself for some sort of attack. I notice Lisa and Angela doing the same. The sound of the locks on my car informs me that AnnaBelle isn’t missing out on the tension out here.

“Then the prophecy is coming true?” I’m not sure how, but I’m able to detect joy in the small monster’s rough voice.

“What prophecy?” I ask, remembering Arethusa mentioning something about a prophecy as well. In stories, prophecies are never a good thing for those they involve. Of course, this is real life, so maybe the prophecy is about bunnies and rainbows. . . .

Yeah, I don’t believe it either.

The Grindylow calms down and examines me again. Without warning, he begins speaking in his harsh voice. Even with the pouring rain, his words carry a sense of import that changes the mood of our group.

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