Succubi in the City
By Riley Owens
Erotic Flights of Fantasy
Succubi in the City
Riley Owens
Copyright ImagineThat! Studios 2012
Published by ImagineThat! Studios at Smashwords
“I could really go for something fresh,” Selene said, sliding back in her chair and casting a glance over the dance floor with the sharp eyes of a predator. She folded one long leg over the other and flexed her foot in the two-inch platform heels—succubi never usually had to worry about chasing their prey so impractical footwear was not a danger.
Callidora knocked back her Side Car and glanced at her friend. The cocktail was older than the previous world war minus one—and that was where she had developed a taste. “You’re more likely to find a diamond than a virgin out there, sweetie,” she commented cheerfully.
Selene’s ice chip blue eyes turned on her, while her perfect bow of a mouth twisted in a strangely dramatic snarl. “Doesn’t stop me from prowling.” She raked a sarcastically arched set of fingers in a mock attack motion, stuck out her tongue at Calli, and then slumped back in her chair.
From their perch on the balcony of the club with all the others taking a breather from the mad disco, they could still just make out Melia’s red hair and lithe body pressed against a bus boy and dancing madly to Suffragette City.
The sweat was running down the back of the muscular young man and disappearing under his only clothing. The pair of tight white shorts left very little to the imagination. He should have been serving drinks and picking up tips, but the lure of the succubi was greater than any of that.
Callidora watched her friend with eyes that saw more than just the bright light show the human host of 54, Steve had arranged. The glow of sexual energy between human and succubus was like a warm firelight glow. Sooner rather than later Melia would draw the bus boy into a corner and fuck and feed.
54 was the only place in the city a succubi would dare do that out in the open. Among the glitter, the cocaine and the general madness it passed by without notice—let alone comment. Melia could probably have fed right on the dance floor—but centuries of habit were hard to break.
The four of them had been coming here since the place opened, their beauty usually bought them entry, but if Marc wanted a change they tweaked his senses—no supernatural creature had to wait behind the velvet rope with the moaning mortal masses.
54 was in short the perfect place for four immortal creatures who feed on sexual energy to be.
Callidora looked down at her bare arms; there was a lot of her bare. A circular swathe of red that scooped low hung from her shoulders and draped either side of her breasts, down to where a human’s bellybutton would have been. Glitter clung to her olive skin—the very glitter that had been dumped four inches deep for a New Year’s celebration years ago but still permeated the air in 54. It stuck to everything like the white powder that the humans snorted in amazing amounts up in the balconies and in other secluded corners. Calli found the glitter far prettier.
Leaning over to Selene, she pressed her hand against the others firm thigh, “Where’s Charis?”
In answer her friend pointed to the side of the stage where DJ Richie was spinning the runes and grinning like a mad mustached ringmaster. Their fourth friend was nowhere in sight, but Callidora immediately understood. Charis always did like the taste of cock, and the way the DJ was smiling meant he was having more than a good time—he was having a great time being sucked by a succubus.
Unlike certain supernatural creatures, their kind might take, but that taking relied on a certain amount of pleasure given. A succubus had many anatomical advantages on a mere mortal woman.
And yet, people still were afraid of them—confusing them with vampires, or other supernatural detritus. They thought they killed men and stole semen to impregnate women with. A pretty legend to explain why men woke up in a sweat, covered in their own juices.
The rumors were ridiculous—they had no need for blood, semen or to breed. All they needed was sex and regular amounts of it. After a few days, four succubi without sex could get rather grumpy—to the point where playing with each other did not remove the edge—hence the enjoyment of 54.
Callidora jerked her head to a pale shape moving through the crowd with an entourage of people. A clench of anger began to form in her stomach. She leaned forward and tugged at Selene’s sleeve. “Who’s the vamp in the corner?”
Her friend craned her head, “You’re jumpy tonight Calli—we haven’t seen a vamp in years—that’s just Andy.”
She took a long deep breath, noticing the white hair was nowhere as elegant as a stalker of the night would have worn. When the man glanced up, the blemished face held nothing of the beauty which marked one of that kind. Callidora let out a long breath. “You’re right—maybe I shouldn’t have had that last side car after all.”
“As if human drugs or alcohol have any effect on us.” Her fellow succubus laughed. “You just need to fuck.”
Several men and women in the vicinity heard her and turned their way, but Calli had tried all them on previous nights, and she flicked them away with a gesture of her fingertips. They obediently drifted away—a succubus dismissal was as potent as their attention.
Richie cued up Boys Keep Swinging and the crowd roared with delight, boogying under the kaleidoscope of lights, while on the stage the decoration of the moon looked ready to sniff happily from the animated magical spoon in front of him. Calli loved all Bowie’s songs, and she was not immune to the lure of music—her feet began tapping without her quite realizing it.
At her side Selene had quite a different reaction as she spotted someone over her friend’s shoulder. Callidora twisted around in her chair.
A tall, elegant, black woman, draped in stark white ribbons emerged from the crowd. She danced like a snake and beneath the tinniest of outfits her nipples pressed against the fabric. Both succubi could smell her excitement—her readiness.
No succubus labored under the impression that every human was the same—they were as variable as peaches on the same tree. Some were sour, some full and lush, some were not even worth picking. A human’s sexuality could be as obvious as this woman’s or hidden and ready to be tapped—either way their kind always knew.
Callidora felt her crotch tingle though in response to such a blatant display of sexuality. The woman turned and looked at the two succubi, like a flower might orientate to the sun. Selene moistened her lips, her breathing coming in faster gasps as if she were already drinking from this particular well.
“Not exactly fresh,” Callidora commented, though her own fingers twitched to be touching that sweet dark skin.
“Who the fuck cares?” Selene growled, sliding out of the chair and over to the woman before anyone else could get there. She’d seen the woman first, and though Calli was turned on, and hungry, she obeyed the rules all four of them had agreed upon when they first shifted to New York in the fifties.
Many succubi preferred to hunt alone for obvious reasons—but Selene, Calli, Charis and Melia were the oldest, and the loneliest of those that remained. Luckily 54 provided ample hunting grounds so that they didn’t tread on each other’s feet too often, and they were thus able to remain friends. Still it stung a little to be the last out of the gate tonight.
Callidora let her eyes wander first over the balcony and then standing she scanned the crowd below. So much choice had been bewildering the first time she got into the club—and she had learned to be picky. Humans were not. Every kind of blind hedonism was down there: from the celebrity, to the musician, to the actor, to the insanely beautiful waitress who had yet to make it on Broadway, to the man with the giant cock. She’d tried so many of the flavors that 54 had to offer. The later had been interesting, her unique physiology adapting to his size in ways that no human woman could—yet he had proved lacking in endurance—relying on his freak show size to make up for it. With her however it was all about staying power.
However fucking the ethereal rock star with the eyes of different colors—that had been quite the experience. It had been a long night—even for a succubus. With a little sigh, Callidora was sad to see that he wasn’t in the club tonight. He was the only human she had found that had been able to keep up with her, and the energy she’d fed on from him had been without compare. Maybe he was a kind of incubus himself, feeding of the love of his audience—it was an interesting theory that she looked forward to testing again.
Tonight however it looked like she would have to make do with something else. The air in the balcony was thick with the scent of sweat and sex and every kind of drug that could be found in New York. Succubi had very, very sensitive senses, and she was very, very hungry; it was simply not acceptable that everyone else was getting some and she was not.
Callidora could always climb the stairs to the rubber room one floor up, or even higher to the smaller, more secretive places. The tighter the space the greater the kink, and there was nowhere that a succubi would be denied—yet Selene’s words had put a certain hunger in her. Like when humans talked about a really good Italian restaurant, and then all they could think about was that special lasagna only available from that one place.
If her friends were happy with the usual tonight then that was their prerogative, but she now felt a need for that fresh taste. And getting it in 54 was going to be a real trick. Fresh meat was usually snapped up pretty quickly—she’d have to go to the kitchen.
So Callidora left the balcony and made her way to the front door. Here Marc was ruling the roost as per usual. The crowd of eager people were pressed against a velvet rope trying to get his attention, with made up faces and exposed flesh their only ticket to get in. With his hand on the rope, the doorman was scanning the assembled, picking out those lucky enough to meet that night’s particular blend. The owner Steve called it making the perfect salad and relied on Marc most of the time to construct just that. Even celebrity was sometimes not a guaranteed ticket beyond the rope. Callidora with her ethereal beauty sometimes would not have made the cut if it wasn’t for her own magic.
She stood at Marc’s shoulder examining the great sea of hopefuls, but looking for something very different than he was. Something fresh. Nothing leapt out… but there was an alluring smell, as if it had just passed. Calli turned her head, the heady aroma sending tingles down her spine. Her mouth began to water and her pussy clenched in anticipation.
Turning on her heel she followed the smell back into the club, as locked on as a bloodhound to an escaped criminal. Calli barely registered the push of people, drifting through them, her eyes half closed, her body tingling. She did notice Selene wrapped around the dark Amazon, her succubus fingers already sliding up that firm inner thigh, to press at just the right spot. Her cry of delight mingled with the lyrics – You can’t say no to the Beauty and the Beast.
Calli smiled to herself. Charis knew her favorite rock god and was undoubtedly directing Richie’s choices.
The scent of fresh led Callidora up the stairs once more, but higher and higher than the balcony, or the rubber room—it took her up the locked door. Beyond this she knew was the elaborate lighting rig that Steve often bought his boys up to. Tonight though, it was ajar, and she had seen the owner of 54 down at the bar eyeing another fresh young bus boy. The smell, oh by the gods the smell!
Without hesitation, the succubus pushed the door open and padded into the darkness.
Up on the metal rigging she saw her prey, but immediately flared in anger—someone else had gotten to the fresh young thing first. A dark man’s shape was pressed against what should be hers. The girl had a thick man of glossy red curls that ran down her back, and her face was pale and beautiful and turned towards Calli. The expression on her face was both excited and a little fearful—it made the succubus tremble with want. She was the one that usually caused that expression.
The smell off the girl was immediately identifiable—a heady mix of virginity and mid-west innocence that was nigh on impossible to find in this day and age.
Calli’s eyes narrowed with something verging on rage. Whoever this person was he was taking what she wanted—and by the rules of human vs. supernatural being, he would just have to shift over and give it to her. She would make him.
Then the man looked up, and she was struck with abrupt indecision. By the gods he was beautiful too: the kind of sculpted face she hadn’t seen in an age with dirty blonde hair that fell in a shaggy cut perfectly suited to his aura—an aura that her odd-eye colored rock god shared. It was, she knew, her weakness.
Despite that Callidora smiled broadly, feeling the tingle of her power gathering in her crotch and then begin to filter out along her nerves.
She was nothing if not adaptable—and she did not mind at all feeding on two rather than one. Back in her Greek days she had in fact presided over vast orgies—so two was more than enough.
It was in fact perfect: the young innocent woman breaking her sexuality for the first time, and the rough-around the edges man. Sometimes being a succubus meant she could have it all.
Extending her presence ahead, she stalked along the catwalk towards the pair, hyper-aware of the shear fabric rubbing against her skin, and the growing wetness inside herself.
The man’s hazel eyes, gleaming with excitement and delicious frisson of being discovered focused on her. For a moment, with his hand inside the young woman’s shirt and the other fighting with his fly, Calli thought he was almost going to tell her to get lost.
It was too late to find out. Her power raced from her inner being, along muscles, through skin and burst into the world. With her heightened senses it seemed to set the catwalk aglow, like a cloud of wildflower scent. It enveloped the pair before her, and then spun and curled away to rain down on the dancers below. Such an explosion caught even the succubus by surprise. This flowering filled even the large space of 54 with wild abandon—which considering that restraint was not something the club was known for, could have unintended consequences. This would be a night even the jaded partiers at 54 would remember for the rest of their lives.
Not that Calli could do anything about it even if she wanted to. The magic had her too—she was not immune to her own power.
The man’s groan, low, guttural, primal filled her ears like the sweetest music. He yanked so hard on the panting young woman’s shirt that buttons flew everywhere, tumbling off the catwalk to land below. Calli’s own hands were tugging at her loop of cloth, shucking it off to become—as all succubi should be—naked.
The man was leaning back suckling on the glassy eyed young thing’s perk pink nipple, while his hands cupped her ass. She groaned and shook her head, as if some minor part of her was still resisting the succubus magic.
The sight of his large hand clenched on the soft white flesh, just glimpsed under the girl’s mini skirt, was so erotic that the Callidora had to plunge her own fingers between her legs. The scent of her arousal was honey, and those that had drunk from there knew the taste was like it as well. And she knew, someone would be drinking from there tonight.
The perch against the railing looked dangerous, but the man was oblivious to it. His pants slid off his lean hips, and Calli drew in her breath at the sight of his beautiful cock. She certainly didn’t need any introductions after that.
Then he hoisted the girl in the air by her hips, his expression dark and demanding—irresistible. She gasped, but when he bought her down impaling her on his cock, she screamed as he broke her. Yet her legs went around him and her fingers buried in his hair, holding him tight against her breast.
Callidora was entranced by the deliciousness of the man’s arse, the flex of muscle under his skin, as he pumped the girl hard. It was hypnotic. Between her legs the succubus fingers grew longer, curved and pressed against the warmth of her sex. It was not enough—she had to be there—involved. Watching was one thing, participating in the ritual so much more.
Reaching up Calli released the band holding her hair. It dropped down the full length of her back; a thick, dark and sensual slide against her skin. Then when she was only feet away from the grinding couple, she slid to her knees and crawled like a beast towards them.
The magic twined through the three of them. Calli slid one hand up the man’s legs, reveling in the play of his muscles, while the other she traced down the line of the girl’s spine, through the curve of her ass. Both cried out at the contact from a succubi skin. Her magic pierced them, making them hers.
She needed more though. Her tongue went were her hands had gone. It was no human tongue. It was instead mostly smooth, but textured along the edge. And it was long, nimble and hungry. Calli wriggled her head under their grinding bodies and licked. Her tongue caressed the man’s balls, tightening just a fraction on them, then ran along the girl’s cunt, brushing against the places their bodies met, feeling the rhythm and tasting the results. She even managed to curl it upward, twining around the hardness of his cock, like an ivy plant around a pillar—long and far more supple than a mortal tongue. The taste of them was intense, beautiful and filled Callidora’s greatest need; sex, need, want.
Below the crowd heaved and almost gave up any semblance of dancing. Calli could feel them; touching each other, tongues delving, fingers in each other’s bodies, while magic and music took them.
She licked her way up the couple, her hands curled against their skin, her breasts brushing between them. The man jerked himself out of the panting redhead and pulled the succubus in the middle of them. His cock was now inside her from behind, leaving her free to hold the girl against her. She might not have a penis in this form, but she had centuries of experience to know how to please a woman. Within moment Calli had the woman moaning and biting her lip, begging for more. The succubus yanked the girl’s hair, enjoying the stifled cry, kissing her hard, demanding her tongue, her mouth—her very breath.
The music from below faded to insignificance, dampened by the moment, and the sounds of pure pleasure the three of them dragged from each other. The catwalk creaked and groaned around them but that only added to the heady mix.
They slid to the rough metal flooring, and now the redhead was once more in the middle—her ass fair prey to the insistent man.
Callidora wrapped herself around them, feeling their shared orgasm rushing towards her. Her body was full. Her being close to completion. Over the white shoulder of the young redhead, she looked into the man’s hazel eyes, gleaming with pleasure. His breath rasped over his teeth, and for some reason Calli was entranced by the line of them. When he smiled she was quite undone.
His hands locked around the girl’s hips, and he cried out as if it was death coming not pleasure. And then he bit down.
Calli was spiraling into her own orgasm, full to the deepest core of her supernatural being. Yet she caught a glimpse of his fangs as they buried in the soft neck of the redhead. It was however too late for anything to be denied.
All three of them shuddered and bucked, for a moment lost to anything but blinding orgasm. Around them the slightest rumble of thunder sounded in the club and the scent of jasmine flooded the air.
Callidora recovered first as was her nature. Climbing to her feet she looked down at the vampire and the girl. She was not dead, but she had a pair of exact puncture marks on the curve of her shoulder. A fine line of blood that had escaped the vampire’s tongue arched ruby red against her white skin. One look in those green eyes and Calli knew her reality had been shaken. Undoubtedly this was not what she had been expecting on her bus ride from the mid-west.
The vampire, beautiful in his studied scruffiness, wiped a drop blood from his lips. “A succubus,” he muttered, not quite concealing the shake in his voice.
It was a risk that they all took—there was no secret handshake between the supernatural beings—no club membership.
So instead she pushed her sweat soaked hair from her eyes and grinned at him. “Was it good for you?”
His tongue ran over the exposed point of his teeth. “More than I can tell you.”
“Well, I do have power over anything that has sex—what would you expect?”
The vampire smiled. “And I have power over anything that has blood.” He stared back at her—for a moment they did not move.
Calli tilted her head. The energy they had made together was unexpected, and she craved more.
She held out her hand to him. “We succubi have blood you know—and we are quite prepared to share.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She held out her hand, ignoring the stunned redhead. “Come down and meet my friends—I think they would love to get to know you. The hunting is good… and we can learn to share.”
The vampire smile wolfishly while the sounds of pleasure and hedonism wrapped around them. 54 was indeed the only place all rules of hunting could be ignored—and Callidora loved to live beyond the rules. It was where all the exciting things in life could be found.