Page 18 of Sins of the Succubus

I turn to Neela, who's watching the scene unfold with a intoxicating mix of awe and excitement. Her eyes are wide, drinking in every detail of my true form. "What do you think, my dear?" I ask, my voice a dark purr. "Should I make it quick and merciful, or draw it out and savor every moment of his suffering?"

Neela's eyes sparkle with dark mischief, a glimpse of her true nature shining through. "Oh, I think he deserves to suffera bit, don't you?" she says, her voice dripping with newfound confidence. "After all, he did threaten what's yours."

I laugh, a sound that sends shivers through the remaining patrons and probably half the neighborhood. The orc in my grasp whimpers pathetically. "As you wish, my delightful little succubus. Let the games begin."

Of course, it doesn't take long for the orc to begin begging for his end.

With a flick of my wrist, I snap the orc's neck. His body goes limp, but I'm not done. I channel hellfire through my arm, setting the corpse ablaze. The smell of burning flesh fills the air as I drop the smoldering remains to the floor.

"Anyone else?" I roar, surveying the terrified faces around us.

11

NEELA

The crowd roars as I step onto the stage, my heart pounding with a newfound ferocity. Thaelar is furious about the dead orc on his tavern floor, but he can't show it with Dremlor standing there in his glorious demon form.

"Get back to work," he snapped instead, his voice venomous when he forced me toward the stage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the patrons' eyes gleaming with lust and curiosity. I've danced on this stage more times than I can count, but tonight, it feels different. Tonight, I'm not just a pawn in my husband's game—I'm a player in my own right.

I scan the sea of faces, and my gaze locks with Dremlor's. There's a heat in his eyes that wasn't there before, a recognition of the power that now simmers beneath my skin. I crook my finger, beckoning him to join me, and the crowd gasps as he rises from his seat, a predator among prey.

As he approaches, I can feel the pull of our connection, a tangible force that sets my nerves alight. "Thought you could lend a little help up here," I say, my voice laced with a sultry confidence that I've never felt before.

He smirks, those fiery eyes raking over me. "I'm at your service," he replies, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down my spine.

The music starts, a seductive melody that weaves its way through the smoky air. I move with purpose, each sway of my hips, each roll of my shoulders a testament to the new life coursing through my veins. I feel powerful, in control, and as I wrap my arms around Dremlor's neck, pulling him into the dance, I know he feels it too.

I grind against him, the friction between us igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. His hands find my waist, gripping me tightly as I slide down his body, my movements fluid and uninhibited. The crowd watches, entranced, as I straddle him, my breath hitching as I feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me.

The cheers of the audience fuel my courage, and I find myself going further than I ever have before. I'm no longer just dancing—I'm performing a ritual, a celebration of the succubus that I am. I can feel the energy in the room shifting, bending to my will, and I revel in it.

Dremlor's breathing grows ragged, his control slipping as I continue my seductive assault. I can feel the tension coiling within him, a storm waiting to break, and I'm the only one who can unleash it.

"Neela," he growls, his voice barely more than a whisper, "you're playing with fire."

I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear. "Maybe I want to get burned," I purr, and the crowd goes wild.

With a feral snarl, Dremlor's control snaps. He grabs my waist and presses my ass into his erect cock. I bite back the moan at the memory of what he can do with it.

Someone puts a chair up on the stage and I guide Dremlor to sit down, giving him a teasing lap dance as my ass grinds into his erection.

I feel Dremlor's breath hitch as I reach between us, my fingers teasing the hard length straining against his trousers. The crowd is a distant roar, their cheers and jeers melting into a single, pulsating heartbeat that matches the rhythm of my own desire.

I stroke him through the fabric, a wicked smile playing on my lips as his control frays at the edges. "You like that, don't you?" I murmur, my voice thick with need. "Let go, Dremlor. Show them who you truly are."

With a sound that's half growl, half groan, he does exactly that. His body shudders beneath me, his hips bucking as he comes undone, his release hot and fierce against my hand. The crowd goes wild, their fervor reaching a fever pitch as they bear witness to our unbridled lust.

But the revelry is short-lived.

A hush falls over the room as a group of men in heavy robes push their way through the throng, their faces set in grim disapproval. The Vicars of the Hearthkeeper, known for their ironclad morality and thinly veiled corruption, have come to cast their judgment upon us.

One of them, a tall, gaunt figure with a sneer that could curdle milk, points a bony finger at me. "This display is an affront to the sanctity of human virtue!" he bellows, his voice echoing through the silence.

I tilt my head, affecting an innocent expression. "And who are you to judge what brings joy and pleasure?" I ask, my tone light, but the challenge is clear.

The Vicar's eyes narrow, his disgust palpable. "You are a blight upon the moral fabric of our society," he hisses. "Such lewdness is not fit for any respectable establishment."

---