The Succubae Seduction Ch 01
Introduction:
Overworked & under appreciated, but not for long.
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Chapter 01
Dead Ends
Ker-chink
Sighing, I set the completed report aside after stapling it, and putting it on top of another set of reports that will likely get just as ignored, as the head honchos of our company make their billion dollar decisions.
Craning my neck and back, I grunt as I feel my back pop. I look around my office. . . . Well, Iâm not really sure I can call this room an office. Five desks are arrayed around the room in a U-shape, each with another corporate lackey just like myself, looking just as dead eyed and soulless as I feel.
Well, except for Sheila at the bend in the U. Mrs. Lance is my boss, and while she isnât a strict task mistress, she isnât exactly warm either. Iâve definitely worked for worse bosses, and worse looking. Her long black hair is tied back into a tight bun, making her brown eyes and sharp nose that much more severe. The look is balanced by a softer chin, that all told, doesnât make her beautiful, but slightly attractive.
Crap! Sheâs looking right at me, and even from this distance, I can see the disapproving look in her eyes. Well, back to the grind. Did I mention she wasnât strict? Yeah, well, I lied.
Burying my head back into my work, I pull up a couple spreadsheets and get back to compiling data.
If only this job didnât pay the bills, Iâd happily be doing something else. Growing up, I never saw myself as a desk jockey, putting in the 9-5 grind, and collecting a paycheck every two weeks. Iâd always seen myself with an exciting career in the Air Force, flying fighter jets, and shooting down the enemy. My near-sightedness and color blindness put an end to that dream.
Without military help in paying my tuition, my parents, rest their souls, couldnât afford to put me through college. Iâd worked my way through fast food, until I became a manager. Then I found a job in the mailroom here, which paid a bit less than I was making, but I could hold the fast food management job at night, while working inside the dungeon, during the day. A couple years later, I crawled out of that abyss, and have slowly worked my way up to this dreary position of crunching numbers, and filing reports.
Yeah, yay me! A very exciting career indeed.
An odd noise sounds across from me, and it takes me a moment to recognize what it is. Not because the sound is unrecognizable, but because it is so alien in this white-washed, fluorescent-illuminated room.
It was a sigh of contentment.
Looking up, Iâm greeted with an odd sight. Thomas Johnson, gray head of hair and normally tired eyes, looks slightly happy. He actually has a dreamy look on his face. Almost as if heâs in la-la-land, and enjoying his fantasy. Thatâs not the oddest thing though.
Bent over next to him is a very attractive young lady in a black and red summer dress, whispering into his ear. Her shoulder length blue hair is hanging down over her face, and whatever sheâs saying to Thomas, seems to be having an effect on his daydreaming.
A quick glance to Sheila shows that she isnât paying any attention to the two, but she is looking at me sternly.
Back to work I go.
Thomas clears his throat, and I glance up, and see the young lady start walking over to Debbie. I can now see the girlâs face, and note that sheâs probably nineteen or twenty. Her nose is small, one of those cute button noses, and her eyes are wide and innocent looking. I canât make out much more detail at this distance, even with my glasses on, but I can easily make out the saucy sway in her slim hips as she walks over to Debbie, and starts whispering in her ear. What is that girl saying to them, and why do they look like theyâre a million miles away, mentally?
I have just enough time to see a dreamy look come over the slightly chubby womanâs features, before Sheila loudly states, âMr. Snow, if you canât seem to focus on your own work, maybe I should send you home.â
Crap, crap, and double crap! Part of me is upset at the injustice of the situation. I mean, why am I getting into trouble, instead of that young woman?
âNo, Mrs. Lance. Sorry I got distracted.â Eyes back on my screen, I do my best to ignore whatâs happening on the other side of the room, and drudge through a report on current shipping costs, versus what they were a year ago.
This report is actually interesting, in a âI want to bash my head against a wall, until I black out,â sort of way.
âHmm, youâre kinda cute; so much better than that religious bitch next to you. Too bad we canât get rid of those glasses.â The softly whispered voice directly in my ear startles me enough that I fall right out of my chair.
âMr. Snow!â Sheila nearly shouts, and I point open-mouthed at the very beautiful woman standing behind my desk and over me. âDonât try and blame your chair. Your reports have been less than stellar lately, and itâs obvious you need to take the afternoon off. Perhaps tomorrow you will feel up to doing your job properly.â
Speechless, I look from the young woman, to my boss, and back again. The blue-haired petite lady looks just as shocked and confused as I feel. My mouth moves wordlessly as I try to protest, but the look in my bossâs brown eyes silences me. Iâve never been one to argue with an authority figure, and back down.
Picking myself up off the floor, I logout of my computer, grab my coat, and head to the elevator. The young woman follows right on my heels.
As soon as the doors close, the young lady speaks, and a shiver runs through me as her words conjure blurry thoughts that somehow seem lascivious and a pleasant feeling in my groin. âYou can see and hear me, canât you?â There is still a note of surprise in her tone.
I glance at her, and her hazel eyes try to ensnare mine, but I look away quickly.
Maybe I do need a break. Is this babe for real? No one else seemed to be able to see or hear her. Sheila obviously hadnât, and everyone else in the office had only stared at him. Maybe a good nap will clear my head.
âYou can!â the pert woman says excitedly. The doors to the elevator open, and I step out, having no doubt that my hallucination will follow me. âBut why can you see and hear me?â
Walking through the parking garage, I try to ignore her, as I head to my car, a bright orange, old beat up, VW bug.
âYou donât think Iâm real!â the girl says, and I canât stop myself from nodding in response. Of course sheâs not real. She has to be entirely in my mind. No one else can see or hear her. Her voice has an almost physical effect on me. No woman of her obvious caliber would be spending this much time with me.
Okay, so itâs been a long time since Iâve been on a date. I donât think Iâm ugly, and Iâm by no means fat. In fact, I may be a little on the skinny side, but I try to stay fit. My dark brown hair is cut close to my head, parted on the right, and Iâve been told that my gray eyes are eye-catching, if only I didnât have to wear glasses.
Iâd thought my last date had gone well, until Iâd invited the woman back to my place for coffee. She had quickly declined, and we went our separate ways. She never returned any of my phone calls after that. Maybe I just need to pull up some porn, and take care of myself. That ought to clear the cobwebs out of my head.
I use my key to unlock the driverâs side, and get in, only to find my delusion already in the passenger seat. Of course. . . . I look to her door to see that the passenger side is still locked. Did I really expect anything else?
Wait a minute. Sheâs my delusion. I should be able to think her away. I concentrate hard on picturing the passenger seat empty.
âThat wonât work,â her soft voice states.
The engine in the rear cranks to life, and I put my Orange Bubble, as I call her, into gear, and start my drive home.
âYou can ignore me all you want, but Iâm really here.â I find myself growing hard in my pants, and I wonder about that. âI can prove it, too!â
I feel her hands unzip my pants, and I do my best to ignore how soft her fingers feel as she pulls my hard member from my underwear. Wow! This delusion feels great, I think as she bends over, and teases the tip of my penis with her tongue. I can feel her mouth muscle playing with my pee hole, and I canât stop the slight moan that escapes my lips. Her hand squeezes the base of my penis, while her other hand gently fondles my nutsack.
I have to concentrate hard on the road, and swerve back into my lane when her lips surround the head of my penis, and my pleasure increases tenfold. How can my imagination feel so good? I can actually feel her saliva dripping down my shaft, and getting massaged into my balls. Her technique is flawless. My legs keep twitching as she does something around the sensitive rim, and itâs taking all of my effort to stay on the road.
This is just a dream, I tell myself, feeling doubt creep in at the assertion. None of this is real. I donât care how fantastic this is, it has to be an illusion.
I grunt loudly as I start to shoot off into what feels like a very warm wet vacuum, but know that it really has to be the inside of my underwear.
I hear screeching tires, and a horn honking, right before my poor car slams into something hard.
My head slamming into the steering wheel knocks me out.
* * *
A really annoying, steady beep wakes me up, and I look around. I immediately recognize the look of a hospital room, and groan as a wash of pain nearly overwhelms me.
Well, I try to groan. A tube shoved down my throat rather hinders the attempt. How bad was that accident? I try to lift my head, but again, the pain is intolerable, and I quit trying.
âGood to see youâre finally awake,â a gentle voice says, and I feel myself calming down. Swiveling my eyes towards the feminine voice, I see a rather attractive nurse holding a notebook and smiling at me. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a pony tail, and her blue eyes are sparkling as she looks over my broken body. Her lips are a deep red, and look very kissable. . . . Not that Iâm in any position to do that right now.
âMmf, mhmmm, guruhh?â I ask, which translates loosely as, âWhat happened to me?â
Apparently the nurse speaks mumble-ese. âYou were in a nasty accident. You have a few broken bones, including your ribs, which punctured one of your lungs. Youâre lucky to be alive. Apparently there was a young woman on the scene that pulled you out of your car and provided first aid until the paramedics arrived.â
An image of my hallucination girl flashes through my mind, but itâs blurry, and all I can really remember is her blue hair.
âNow, I know you just woke up, but I want to see how well your thinkerâs thinking.â She smiles again, and I swear the lights brightened some. âAccording to the documents in your car and wallet, they say that your name is Lyden Snow, correct?â
âHrmf,â I reply positively.
âItâs okay. You donât need to talk. Just blink once for yes, twice for no,â she tells me cheerily.
I blink once.
âGood! I like that name. It sounds strong. Now then. . .â she trails off as she consults her notebook. âWe couldnât seem to find any next of kin. It looks like your parents died some years ago by drowning in a lake. Iâm truly sorry about that.â The way she talks, I have no doubt that she truly is saddened by my parentâs death. âNo siblings and no extended relations we could find. Is that correct?â
One blink.
âIt would seem that youâre slightly accident prone, also. Our records indicate that another young woman found you by the lake almost two days after your parents drowned. Youâd been presumed dead until the girl found you.â Her blue eyes seem to bore into me with her questions. âHow did you survive two hole days by that lake?â
I blink three times, not really able to answer her. The truth is that I really donât know. Iâd only been a kid at the time, and barely remember any of it. Brooke had found me on the beach, and Iâd been in foster care till I was sixteen, when Iâd struck out on my own. Brooke has always kept tabs on me, though, and even lives in the same apartment complex that I do now.
âDo you have a girlfriend or significant other we can contact?â
Two blinks. If only I had the courage to ask Brooke out. Many times Iâve been tempted to ask her on a date, but Iâve always been too intimidated by her beauty.
âWere you alone in the car at the time of the accident?â
I pause as I consider how to answer, and she notices my hesitation, one of her delicate eyebrows arching at my delay. I blink once.
âHmm, are you sure? Your pants were undone, and there was evidence that there may have been. . . um. . . some sort of sexual situation that caused the accident.â
I try not to blink at all, not really knowing how to answer. I donât even want to look her in the eyes, embarrassed by the thought of getting my dick sucked by a fantasy. After a few seconds she nods to herself and comes over to look at the medical equipment. Her name tag says Angela, and somehow I can make out the soft scent of vanilla and flowers. She jots a few things down on her clipboard and then heads for the door. She stops in the doorway and turns back to me, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. âI told you I was real, and now I know you can hear me.â
Despite the shock I feel at her words, and the pain my body is still in, her voice somehow makes my cock grow hard instantly.
* * *
Over the next month, as I go through physical therapy, and my body knits itself back together, I donât see Angela again. There are a few times I suspect that I see her, but itâs always out of the corner of my eyes, and by the time I turn, the image is gone.
Well, I should say that I donât see her when Iâm awake. When Iâm asleep and dreaming, she seems to be all I see. We never talk in my dreams, but always have sex. Sometimes she comes to me in the punk form I saw at work, and sometimes she comes to me in her nurse alter ego. Every night, I cum, and every morning I wake up and have to clean out my underwear from the nightâs wet dream. With all the privacy afforded to me in the hospital, this doesnât go unnoticed.
The rate at which Iâm healing and recovering doesnât go unnoticed either.
âDo you think itâs all the testosterone in his system?â I happen to hear one nurse say, then clam up as she notices Iâm close by. By the flush that spreads across her cheeks, there is no doubt sheâs talking about me.
The day Iâm finally released to my own care is dark and overcast, as rain threatens to break at any moment from the dark clouds above.
âYour ride should be here at any moment,â the large male nurse intones as he wheels me out of the front lobby. The wheelchair isnât necessary for me to move, but apparently itâs hospital policy that every patient has to be wheeled out.
âAnd you say my hospital bill is already taken care of?â I still donât know who would have paid it, but I donât complain either.
âLyden!â I hear in relief as I stand up from the wheelchair. I turn in time to see the passenger door to the Orange Bubble swing open. I stare in shock, as there doesnât seem to be a scratch on her, and even looks shinier than Iâve ever seen the car before. I canât even see the dent in the front fender where a shopping cart had hit it almost a year ago. âHop in! We have a lot to talk about.â
There is no mistaking that short blue hair.
Iâm frozen in place, not sure what to do or say. My delusion is driving my car. She pats the passenger seat, but I turn to see the nurse thatâd wheeled me out is staring at her.
âYou see her too?â I ask, almost afraid of the answer.
âMan, if thatâs your girl, youâre one lucky bastard!â
I have my answer.
I have to use a crutch to make it to the car, and it takes me a second to get the thing into my cramped little car. I take a deep breath, before slipping onto the passenger seat, and closing my door.
âI donât think weâve been properly introduced,â she tells me in her soft voice. She sticks a slender hand in front of me and says, âMy name is Angela, and Iâm a succubus.â
Okay, so I know that I really probably shouldnât do it, but I canât help myself. I burst out laughing. It feels so good to laugh after so long, and I laugh at just having the pleasant feeling of laughing. It takes me a couple minutes to calm down and quit laughing. I even have to wipe tears out of my eyes to clear them, and there is a new pain in my side from laughing so hard. The laughter dies, though, as I turn back to her.
She is deadly serious. I donât mean that she was serious in a stern sort of way, oh no! I mean, there are real flames burning behind her hazel eyes. I can actually feel the heat washing over me, and I notice that sheâs not watching the road, but easily swerves around a car going slow in the fast lane. Actually, as I glance at the speedometer, I see sheâs got the needle buried. I didnât even know the Orange Bubble could go this fast.
âOkay, okay, youâre a succubus. Iâm sorry for laughing,â I try to backpedal. âI thought you all had bat wings, and sucked the life out of people when you had sex with them?â
The fires in her wide eyes dim slightly, and then vanish as she blinks. âI thought my wings might scare you. . . again,â she smiles at me, but it doesnât quite touch her eyes. âAs far as the sex, it really is our choice. Personally, I prefer to help people out when I can, giving them fantasies, or even healing their injuries.â She gives me a serious look. âThatâs why you healed so quickly. My talents arenât as strong while in your dreams, but now that youâve been released. . .â She lets that hang in air, and this time the look of lust in her eyes is genuine and strong. Despite my growing concern with my own sanity, there is a corresponding, growing bulge in my pants.
âWhaâwhat do you want from me?â I ask, picturing myself as a dried up husk, with only my manhood still alive.
She still hasnât looked at the road, as she contemplates my question.
âYou pique my curiosity,â she tells me, and then finally looks at the road. I do to, and realize that I have no idea where we are. Tall buildings surround us, and it looks like weâre downtown, but thatâs almost an hourâs drive away from the hospital. She slows and pulls into a parking garage, and then moves my car into a stall marked âReserved.â
I get ready to bolt, picturing this gorgeous, punked out babe screwing me to death, and while that sounds like a fine way to go, Iâm not ready to go.
âWould you relax?â she demands. âIf Iâd wanted you dead, I would have let you die in that accident, instead of spending a shit-ton of energy keeping you alive.â I look back at her, and feel myself getting drawn in by her eyes, but shake myself, and look away. âAlright, hereâs the deal. You can see and hear me, when no one else can, and when I donât want you to. When no one should be able to see or hear me. I donât understand why, or even how, but Iâm curious. Youâre a mystery to me, and I love mysteries. After being alive for over 400 years, itâs nice to come across something that I donât understand.â
âF-four hundred?â I sputter.
âYeah, I know. Iâm still really young by succubae standards.â Really young? âBesides, as Iâd told you earlier, I like to help people, and you looked like you were really hating your life behind that desk. Also, I really do think youâre kinda cute. Especially now that we got rid of your glasses.â
My glasses? Reaching up to my nose, I realize my face is naked. Not only that, but Iâm seeing perfectly fine. Nothing is blurry. In fact, everything looks sharper and more defined than it was with my glasses. When did I. . .? Thinking back, I donât remember having them since after the accident. Iâve been able to see just fine, and somehow never noticed their lack.
âDid you. . .?â
âOf course,â she replies, as though itâs a foolish question. âI canât be seen in the company of someone with such an obvious physical flaw.â
âSeen in. . .â For some reason, I have a hard time finishing sentences. Iâm not sure when it happened, but at some point Iâve decided not to flee. âI thought you were invisible to other people.â No, that canât be right. The nurse at the hospital had seen her. âOr, you can be seen when you want to be.â
She nods and gets out of the car. Stunned at the direction my life has suddenly turned; I get out of the other side, and pull out my crutch. I donât notice my keys flying at me, until they hit my face.
Bending over to pick them up, I catch a glance at the underside of the Orange Bubble, and gasp. The usual series of pipes, cables, and shocks are gone, replaced with a single, smooth plate of metal. What happened to my car?
Standing back up, with keys in hand, I look at Angela, to my car, and back again.
âOh yeah. Do you like?â She nearly bounces as she asks me that, and starts walking towards a doorway close to her parking spot. Sometimes she really does act like a twenty year old girl, rather than a four-hundred year old succubus. âIt was completely totaled after you ran it into that light pole, but I got a couple of Cyclops buddies of mine to work on it, and now itâs better than new.
I had started to follow her, but when she mentions âCyclopsâ I freeze. âCyclops?â Will I ever stop getting surprised by things? What kind of world have I stumbled into?
Angela only laughs, as she steps lightly through the door, and I have to hobble to catch up. I meet back up with her in time to enter an elevator, and she slides a keycard into a slot, and the elevator starts up on its own.
âDo you live here?â I ask, as the metal box seems to keep climbing forever.
âIn the building? No.â There is a strange look in her eyes, and I decide not to ask further questions.
When the doors finally open, I follow her out, and once again, Iâm confronted by something my mind doesnât want to accept.
For as far as I can see, there are fields of flowers and grass, and even an orchard off in the distance. I turn around just in time to see the bark of a massive oak tree knit itself back together.
âWhere are the buildings?â I ask, and even I can hear the edge of insanity as it starts to creep into my voice.
âThis is where I live,â she tells me easily, then takes my free hand, and I use my crutch with the other to walk beside her. I notice the same scent of vanilla and flowers in the air, which Iâd noticed on her in the hospital.
Looking over to the young woman with the blue hair and punk clothes–this time itâs a blue or purple slashed summer dress that barely covers her hips–I canât see this being where she lives. It just doesnât match her. âA punk girl like you, lives in a field of flowers?â
She laughs happily, and I notice a tension that had been in her before is now gone. She seems happier and a lot more relaxed. âI can look like anything I want to. When you first saw me, Iâd decided to take on the appearance of that old manâs fantasy. Even Iâve forgotten what I looked like when I was still mortal.â
Thereâs so much there, that I donât know where to start. Thomas had been having a fantasy about a punk girl? She can see our fantasies? Okay, that oneâs a dumb question; sheâs a succubus after all, didnât she say she can create fantasies? When she was mortal?
âYou werenât born as a succubus?â I ask in awe.
Her eyes sparkle as she turns and smiles at me. âSo, you finally begin to believe me?â
I nod. âYeah, itâs kind of hard not to anymore.â
She suddenly moves very close to me, and I feel the lightest touch of her lips on mine; before she pulls away, laughing and even dancing through the flowers.
My lips tingle from where sheâd barely kissed me, and I bring my hand up to touch the spot. I chase after her as best as I can, my crutch slowing me down.
I finally reach her, as she is lying under the shade of a weeping willow.
âIsnât it always grand to come home after a long time away?â she asks me as I loom over her.
âHow long have you been gone?â I ask.
âSince the day you saw me. I couldnât leave you as things were. And like I said, I like a mystery.â She reaches a hand up to me, and I take it, as she pulls me down.
Lying next to her, I can feel her warmth, and her pleasant scent fills my nose.
âTaking care of me really wore you out, didnât it?â I ask her, but already know the answer.
âYes. There are only two ways to recoup the energy. One is to come here, but time acts funny when here. The other way is obviously sex.â
âObviously? Right, because of the whole succubus thing.â I say. I snort a quick laugh before I ask, âI donât even feel funny asking you this, but you really did visit me in my dreams, didnât you?â
âI already told you I did. That was how I was able to transfer enough energy to you, to allow you to heal quickly and fix your eyesight.â She gives my hand another squeeze, before she adds, âAnd other than the energy drain, it really was no hardship.â
I smile at the compliment, and I donât know if itâs the atmosphere of the place, her presence, or what, but the question is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
âWhat about sex while youâre here?â
âI thought youâd never ask,â she nearly squeals with joy as she rolls on top of me. âIâve never brought anyone here before, so I donât know, but I intend to find out!â
Before I have a chance to say anything, I feel her lips pressed against mine, as her tongue works to get between my lips. Happily I let it in, and moan in pleasure at the skill this woman has. Apparently when in this form, she also has a tongue ring, and I feel it clacking against my teeth, and find my libido skyrocket.
Placing one hand on the back of her head, the other goes to the small of her back, and I hug her to me as we roll around on the ground. Iâm really trying to keep myself under control, but the desires and needs this young lady is bringing out in me are almost overwhelming.
We stop rolling with her on top, and she sits up long enough to remove her summer dress. Thereâs no bra under it, and her B-cup breasts sit free and proud on her chest. Her areolas are small, about the size of a nickel, and each nipple is pierced by some custom jewelry: a dragonâs maw circling the small nub, with the bar horizontal. I wonder what kind of kinky stuff old man Johnson is into, to dream up a woman like this.
The wondering is short lived, however, as my mouth goes dry, and I have to taste her chest. Pulling her torso back down, my face goes into the valley between her small hills. Licking around her chest, my mouth is filled with the flavor of vanilla and lavender. Her pelvis lifts up, and I can feel her hands working at my pants. Her slender fingers are so deft, that she gets them undone and off in less time than I could have.
My underwear is literally torn from my body, and I barely even notice. My lips are now on her chest jewelry, and I tug on them gently with my teeth, eliciting a moan from her that sends shivers down my spine.
A small voice in the back of my mind warns that this is a succubus, not a nubile woman that my body is crying out for; a demon being that devours their prey through acts of sex.
So the fuck what! A louder voice shouts in my head, and Iâm only slightly surprised by the swear word, never having been one to use such language. This woman is hot, horny, and she wants you! And itâs been so loooong.
The second voice wins out, as I drop my hands to her bare buttocks, and massage her pert naked rear. Dropping her hips down, I feel a new heat wave of desire course through me, itâs epicenter at the point where her wet pussy is sliding along my shaft.
âI need you in me,â Angelaâs husky voice whispers into my ear, and as if of their own volition, my hips drop until I feel my head touch her fiery hot slit, then drive up, impaling her sheath on my sword.
We both cry out in ecstasy, as our connection becomes complete. Her inner walls ripple around my manhood and her entire body shudders, as I realize sheâs in the throes of an orgasm.
Energy floods into me, and I can feel my rod thicken and grow even more within this delicious nymph. Gripping her hips, I force her back and forth on top of me. I can feel the head of my cock bouncing around inside her, stirring up her juices. My cock tingles as her lubricating liquids flow around my crotch, and dribble down my balls.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and this time I donât feel myself being drawn into her, but instead feel her joining me. We are one, in more ways than just the physical at this moment, and she drops her mouth back to mine, as she hungrily kisses me.
Need, lust, desire, joy, and pure unadulterated ecstasy flood through my entire being, as I swell inside this petite female, and shoot my seed deep into her clutching cavity.
She cries out into our kiss, as she feels me flood her chamber with my cum, and once again energy crashes into me as she has her second orgasm.
Panting, she rolls off me, and we both lie on the ground, trying to catch our collective breaths.
That was intense, I think, my mind rolling over the last few minutes. Despite being slightly out of breath, I feel like I could sprint an entire marathon. I feel like Iâm on top of the world, and nothing can go wrong. I feelâ
âIâm so sorry,â she says next to me, and I can hear true sadness in her tone. âI drew too much energy from you. I promise it was an accident. I couldnât control it here. I was really beginning to like you, too. I already miss you, Lyden Snow. Iâm sorry I killed you. I really thought I could control that aspect of my nature.â
I still have so many questions I wanted answered before I died, too. Who paid my medical bills? Why can I see Angela, when she tries to be hidden? What is this new place the succubus has taken me too? And why do I feel so dang good right now?
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From the Author
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