The Succubus' Tale - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Celia awoke the next morning, pale and shivering. She seemed stricken by an ague, and lay in bed with stomach complaints all the day. Apparently she thought the soreness was due to a stomach illness, and had no idea, at least overtly, that the reason for her soreness was the demon's violation of her innocence. Not out of guilt, but rather out of mild disgust, I avoided her most of the day. I offered to do her chores, but I had to wonder why she didn't guess at the character of her discomfort. However, most of her discomfort seemed to be in her bowels.

My main concern now was focused around my eldest uncle's next visit, as he had not seen me since my changes had taken place. My younger uncle looked sickly this one morning, even more so than he did after our previous session, and stayed in his bed most of the day with a complaint of exhaustion. Surely my eldest uncle, as a priest well-versed in the ways of the arcane, would sense something wrong in the air of this household. Through casual queries, I found out from my aunt that the priest would be visiting within a day or two. This meant I must collect moisture from my cousin Camella that evening, and smear it over the dark, consecrating pentagram scar which was nearly healed on the puffy rise of my cunt.

That evening I approached both my sleeping cousins with the silvery vial, and lulled both of them into deep sleep with the vapors by holding its uncapped opening near their noses. Leaving Celia to peace, I moved to Camella. I lifted Camella's robe away from her pale legs, and hesitantly began to massage my fingers over her lightly-haired slit. She was somewhat dry, and I needed much more moisture if I was to coat my scarred pussy in her virginal juices, to mask my taint as the demon instructed me.

I slipped my finger between her lips and began stroking over her clit. She shifted in her sleep and let out a soft sigh. A quick check showed that she had already grown damp, and I continued with my rhythmic stroking, pausing to tickle at her opening with my index finger. Her flesh was soft and hot, and very responsive to my fingers. I was nervous that my aunt might walk into our room and see my hand stroking at Camella's cunt, so I kept my hands under the coverlet, where the steamy heat dampened my palms. I kept up my ministrations until her hips twitched upward from the bedding. She let out a soft cry, and her pussy contracted and pulsed with a quick, small orgasm. A soft gush of fluid accompanied this, wetting her little slit entire.

I scooped up the fluid in my fingertips, and moving my robe aside, carefully reached down my drawers and applied her juices like a balm to my heated cunt. It was as if cool, soothing water stroked itself over the surface of my skin; no real relief, just a temporary easing of the infernal fever that always seemed to occupy the flesh between my legs, dormant or no. I returned to bed, hoping that this 'balm of innocence' would be enough to protect me from the prying senses of my eldest uncle.

I had overlooked one thing; my demands for male juices were increasing. I was growing restless again. I could not face the priest in a tormented condition. Close to midnight, I dressed, and slipped from the house and went back to the stables. I was hoping that the demon would appear and advise me on how I was to be fed now that my uncle was down with exhaustion, but I stayed alone in the hayloft for over an hour. Meanwhile, the maddening hunger had already started to twist and boil inside me, only a full day after my last encounter with my uncle. I did not make the mistake, this time, of trying to bring myself to an orgasm, and instead considered all the options available to me, which were few.

This was when I made a dangerous decision. I slipped out of the house-compound, and into the streets of Rome. I rather would have chanced sex and all the dangers of strange men, than face my elder uncle as insanely hungered as I had been the day before yesterday. I did not know, as sheltered as I had been in gentle villages and fine households, what wandering the streets of Rome would yield me. I knew that Rome was not a gentle city. Cutthroats and ruffians often wandered her streets during the day as well as the evening, but I was sure that ruffians and cutthroats could give me the release I hungered for, just as well as a gentleman like my uncle. I had no idea how to seduce a stranger, other than by touch, but I was willing to try.

Two hours later, I was still wandering in and about the stone buildings and alleyways that made up the heart of the City, and still, I had no opportunities. I made sure that I was obviously female. I walked slowly. I let my hair, full and dark, hang loose to flow over my shoulders and down my back. I used every imagined trick a harlot might use in finding a man to bed her for the night, but it seemed I had no audience. I finally resorted to opening my robe so the thin, pale 'v' of my chemise and part of my chest was exposed to the night air.

It was at the Witches' Hour, or very close thereabouts, that two men yanked me from the dimly-lit street into a pitch-dark alleyway. A lantern was uncovered, and one of them breathed, "Hello, what's this?" before sheathing the lantern directly afterwards. A few moments of muttering, when I stayed silent, anticipating. Meanwhile, they kept a tight grip on my wrists and one large hand was kept clamped on my mouth while they watched the deserted street for several minutes.

One of them said, "Well, my little beauty, why do you wander the streets alone at night? Don't you know it's dangerous for a lovely girl such as yourself to be found in the darkness where rough men might seize you and harm you?"

The other grunted, "Maybe she's a witch. Pretty girls don't wander around looking to fuck, an' that one's more than comely."

The first one laughed. "You're a superstitious peasant, Alex. Don't you know a whore when you see one? Lovely girls can be cold and hungry too. You've seen many like her follow army camps around, though what she's doing about this place, I can only imagine."

Alex just grunted in reply, and then said, "Think she sucks cock?"

A hand stroked over my breast, and tweaked softly at my nipple, making my wet, hot cunt twitch. The more cultured voice replied, "She will, with a knife to her throat. I daresay she'll do anything we ask, won't you, my stunning little whore?"

With the large hand on my mouth, I was unable to reply. He continued, "I think if you scream or make a noise, we shall hurt you. But you shall kneel here in the dirt and suck my friend while I explore your sweet treasure. And make sure you suck him well, for he deserves a good reward tonight for spotting you earlier."

I had no plans on screaming. If I played it right, I would walk away with more than a few loads of cum inside me.

They pulled me deeper into the alleyway. They had grabbed my wrists, so they were undoubtedly feeling the lusts I seemed to create as a natural matter of touch. While my uncle, when I would seduce him, responded with hesitant passion, these men were rough, almost violent. One took me by the hair and pressed my face into his groin, where his cock was straining against the
rough fabric of his codpiece. The other man lifted my robes, tore off my drawers and roughly slid his finger up inside my pussy. He muttered a surprised curse, and said, "Already wet and ready. She *is* a whore, with a nice small cunt."

I mouthed at the man whose cock was pressed against my lips. A muttered curse, a few movements as he untied his clothing and the hot organ sprang free to nudge at my cheek and lips. I smiled triumphantly, and my hunger flared at the scent of his exposed, sweaty groin. The other man behind me lifted my hips and slid his cock home deep inside me with several rough thrusts. Despite my wet heat, it took more than a few powerful thrusts to fully seat himself in my feverish, grasping cunt.

Alex's slick cockhead nudged at my lips. He grunted, "Suck, bitch," and I obligingly opened my mouth so he could thrust inside. I sucked on his cock briefly, the raw taste heating my mouth. It tasted faintly of urine and male sweat, while the hot stench from his testicles drove me to a higher pitch of arousal. It was slightly thicker than my uncle's, which posed a challenge to swallow. His taste was also exotic to me, more harsh and spicy than the mildly musky scent and taste of my uncle's cock. A few, slight drops of precum continued to ooze out of the tip, and I began to suck in eager earnest, hungry for my reward. Alex's cock began to gently twitch in response to my eager mouthing, and he gasped, gasped, "Mother of God, she sucks, Rafaelo. Like a palace whore."

Rafaelo grunted back, "She cannot be, she has the tight cunt of a girl." He slapped at my asscheek as his prick struggled to push in and out of my tight opening. "If she's a whore, she's a young one. But she does not cry. You should have a go at this... tightest cunt... I have had in a long time. Fuck, I should spend in her soon, too soon."

Alex groaned when I was able to manage to press him down into my throat. He was so thick that it was a struggle to swallow him whole, but I managed, spurred on by the constant, maddening taste of his precum. He said, "No, you keep her cunt. I want to marry her mouth." His hips began to fuck at my face, and his hands in my hair tightened, so I was unable to move, trapped between two sweaty, thrusting male bodies, tossed this way and that with the hard, careless fucking. My lips were being bruised by the hard onslaught of cockthrusts into my mouth, and his balls slapped heavily against my chin. I was quivering with excitement, imagining the hot, delicious cum building up inside each of them.

I was incredibly aroused... two cocks at once, both swollen and full of cum. It was a free dinner, and the danger of the situation merely added to my arousal. I thrust against Rafaelo repeatedly, as best I could, and swiveled my hips so as to encourage him to release inside me. The cock in my mouth was now rock-hard and fully swollen, and the man roughly thrust into my battered throat. His laboured breathing gave warning of his onrushing release. The pace increased, so the pitch-dark of the alley was filled with the sounds of their cocks rutting into my wet holes.

The cock between my lips was the first to spurt. My head was held tightly to his groin in a sudden spasm, and he hunched over me, fucking my face once, twice, then a third time when he burst in torrents down my throat, sobbing like a child while he dumped his soul into my face. I was in ecstasy, as if a hot, sweet gallon of rainbow light was coursing into my gut, and with it, my own release rocketed upward until I exploded. My ass lifted and I came, hard, around Rafaelo's impaling cock. My sopping pussy sucked and nibbled as I came, while I swallowed the cum spurting from the sobbing man. My whole body trembled in pleasure, and very soon, Rafaelo was close to delivering my second load of cum of the evening.

Rafaelo gasped, "Fuck, I'm going to fill the little whore but good." I pulled back on the cock in my mouth so I might delicately lap at the cream still oozing from the slit, but was jostled at the force of the hips slamming against mine. Rafaelo fucked at me like a man possessed, yanking my hips back against his with every stroke. His grunts became high-pitched, desperate, as if every thrust was ratcheting his lust higher and tighter than he could stand. Finally, in a hard, silent spasm, he hilted himself to the root in my cunt and his cock burst into frothy spurts against my womb.

The feel of his spurting cock dumping against my womb was undescribable. His cum bathed my cunt in a hot, excruciatingly pleasurable glow. I came again, this time harder, with a rough, painful edge to the delicious spasms that wracked my cunt and sent small starbursts of light to my eyes in the darkness. His nails dug into the soft flesh of my bare hips, painfully, and he rutted against me with hard sharp staccato thrusts. I felt the hot gush of semen up inside, but nothing ran outward, as if my pussy itself was swallowing his load. In a strange way, I could almost taste the cum as it disappeared up into my cunt.

Both of my victims dumped everything they had inside me, and fell away, leaving me to crumple to the ground, panting and sated.

Rafaelo uttered a soft, unbelieving curse in the darkness. He said, "Alex, we must take her to the room. I'll want another use of her soon."

Alex made a soft groaning noise. "What, more? It'll be dawn in a few hours. You've got to get back home or you'll be missed. Leave the slut here, and we'll go back."

Rafaelo snorted. "I have plenty of time for at least one more go at her. You can sleep in the chair while I take her on the bed."

I personally just wanted to go home, but in a moment, two sets of hands picked me up and took me to a small, spare basement room in one of the buildings in the rougher quarter of town. All that was in it was a lantern, a table, a chair and a bed, and other than that, the place was clean and bare. Alex collapsed on the chair. I saw he was an older man, somewhere in his thirties, dressed not too shabbily in the style of a retainer. Rafaelo was a tall, swarthy youth, of no more than twenty years of age, dressed plainly, but in richer fabrics than I would have expected for a man who had just raped a girl in an alleyway of Rome.

Rafaelo said to me, sternly, "Undress, whore." He held a knife at me, low, to reinforce his demand.

I hesitated, and he jabbed at me with the tip, right in the thigh. "I said undress."

I looked over to see Alex snoring in his chair. Of course he'd be exhausted, at his age. I undressed then, and tried to shield my pentagram-scarred cunt from his view. His eyes were wild, and at first he did not notice the scar. He instead said, "Get on your knees, bitch, and give me some of what you gave Alex in the alleyway."

I kneeled before him, head half-bowed, and my face was hidden by the thick curtain of my raven hair. He reached beneath my chin and tilted my face upwards to his. He breathed a soft curse, and said, "Damn me, but you are beautiful. Are you a witch? Don't answer that. Just do what you did in the alley."

He pulled my hair back away from my face so he might see my lips ripple over the veins in his engorged cock. I took him deep into my mouth, and began to work back and forth on him eagerly, in full earnest. I was sated of my burning hunger, but another meal would just give me more time until I needed the next one. He fucked his hips towards my face, so that my nose would bury in his stinking hair on each stroke. He paused in his rutting, and then picked me up to toss me on the straw bed. He spread my legs roughly, and that is when he saw the sigil darkly scarred on my cunt.

I stared up at him silently, willing him to not see it in the dimly-lit room, to no avail. He pulled away from me with narrowed eyes, and whispered, "What are you? Witch? Demon? Worse?" His face had grown paler beneath the dark olive cast of his skin.

I gave him a small smile. "None of those. But I enjoy what you were doing to me, is that so wrong?"

He just stared at me. Below, his cock throbbed visibly in the air, wet with my saliva and oozing a steady stream of pre-cum. He whispered, "Fuck me, but I will have you, no matter what you are." With a groan, he fell on me, and his cock thrust roughly at my cunt. This time he fucked me with deliberate, abusive carelessness. My arms were held down to the bed by the wrists. He slammed into me repeatedly and painfully, while his cock grew more swollen with each stroke. With a deep growl, he spent quickly, cum racing out of the tip of his cock and deep in my belly. I burst into another, weaker orgasm, which coursed through my fuck-sore cunt.

He rolled off of me and stood up. He muttered, "Now get out." He leaned over and threw my robes at me. I quickly pulled them on, and was gone out the door immediately. I made it back into the compound of my uncle's house without incident, well before dawn. I managed to slip back into bed before I was missed, but I made sure to scoop up more liquid from Camella's pussy and smear it over my scar before I retired to sleep.

The next day dawned, and with it a bustle in the household. My younger uncle was out of his sickbed, but still looked exhausted. I feared my toll was already starting to sap at his strength, though the hot looks he gave me when our eyes happened to meet told me he still desired me as much as ever. Celia, however, was still abed, with a slight fever and the same stomach complaints. Camella looked as she did everyday although strangely quiet. My aunt, as usual, was an oblivious cow.

I had hoped my uncle had not impregnated Celia, although I was not sure if that would be possible after I had sucked most of his cum out of her pussy. It would suit the demon fine if Celia became pregnant with her own father's child. I simply did not want any more complications.

The afternoon meal came too quickly, and with it, my uncle. My eldest uncle was a tall, narrow man, with cavernous hollows beneath his cheekbones and a high, intelligent forehead that rose over the dark line of his brow. He was well known for his studies of the arcane; in fact, he was one of the most famous predecessors of the Inquisitions. Today, he brought with him a younger man from seminary, a young acolyte whom undoubtedly thought it a great honor to be asked to sup at a mentor's family table.

The priest introduced Pietro to the family, and assured us all he was a most promising student, for one being still so young. I found myself admiring this younger man; he had thick, dark hair, a lovely face, a strong, wide-shouldered body and his lashes lay thick and dark on his cheek when he bowed his head as God's blessing was pronounced over the dinner table.

I sat well away from both of them, while the priest inquired as to his youngest brother's health. My younger uncle replied that he had been sick these past two weeks, and Celia was also abed with a dyspepsia and a malaise, which the doctors simply attributed to a stomach complaint. My aunt and he made some simple conversation, Camella received his dour attention without so much as a twitch, and then my skin crawled and grew cold as he turned his attentions to me.

"And how is our brother's daughter faring in Rome?" he asked my younger uncle. "I see she has bloomed; her fair skin, dark eyes, and rosy lips are the image of her mother. You must guard her carefully, for soon she shall have all the gallants in Rome inquiring for her hand."

My younger uncle frowned a bit at that, undoubtedly contemplating the loss of our trysts. Camella shot a wicked glance in my direction, clearly jealous of the remark. My stomach was still in a knot, but I managed to smile faintly at the priest, feigning a chaste embarrassment.

The priest tore off a bit of bread from the loaf nearby. "Maria will be old enough for marriage in two or three short years. Of course, every girl should aim for a profitable, happy marriage." He looked at my younger uncle, who made no attempt to hide the feelings battling in his face. "I would think that our family should make an attempt in marrying her to as good a family as you've acquired for Celia." He dipped the bread in the gravy on his plate, and then said, "Is Celia's betrothal arranged without incident?"

I saw the acolyte, Pietro, shift me more than one or two surreptitious glances during the course of the conversation. I felt myself ache faintly with an echo of the previous night's lusts, imagining how such a young boy, barely older than myself, would taste. Although I preferred older men, my curiousity lodged the thought in my mind for later consideration.

My younger uncle nodded. "Giuseppe Paverno remains Celia's betrothed, and her dowry is a handsome one, so I do not expect him to balk at lovely Celia with so rich a consideration. Two thousand gold pieces, likely more if this season's cargos are as rich as the last's. As for Camella," and he shot his youngest daughter an insufferably indulgent look, "We have prospects in several fine families, which I will leave mysterious at this time, possibly until next winter." Camella blushed furiously. Little cunt, I thought. You'll fuck like a minx when you're married, if your eager response to my fingers last night was any indication.

The priest nodded, approving, at the news. "Your girls are finely set, then. But poor Maria will not have as handsome a dowry, of course, which may not bode well for her prospects, but there are many successful, older merchants who have very little need of a dowry and instead want a lovely young wife from a good family."

My younger uncle's voice was tight, obviously strained at the idea of losing me from his household. "She is rather young to be thinking of marriage as of now. I have not even consulted her father. We shall worry about that when we decide she is ready."

I could not tell if my eldest uncle's eyes darkened at the tone of his brother's voice. He glanced from me to his brother, and then raised his empty wine cup towards the servants to be refilled. After the almost-imperceptable pause, he smoothly continued, " Of course, as I am of the cloth, I will not presume to bargain for you in such worldly affairs as obtaining a husband for Maria, but I can make several inquiries. Discreetly, of course." One of the servants poured the priest another full cup of wine, which he sipped from, contentedly. But I felt his eyes sidle to me, even when I was not looking.

The rest of the afternoon passed away fairly uneventfully, whether from the general genial atmosphere in the Great Room, the fine wine, the ease of the balmy early-summer afternoon, or the skilled way in which my eldest uncle steered the conversation away from anything controversial and told interesting stories from his trips abroad. My aunt asked pointedly about the stories of witches in the countryside around Tivoli.

My uncle frowned. "Such topics are not meant for such delicate ears as we have here. Suffice to say that we believe that there have been reports of unholy occurences around the countrysides not far outside of Rome; perhaps they have come over the southern border from the Kingdom of Naples, for the States of the Church are lately in an uproar with new factions appearing in every state demanding alleigence with the Emperor rather than His Holiness, the Pope. Such weaknesses are fodder for the invasion of dark forces in our land. I shall re-consecreate your house if such stories frighten you, dear lady," he said to my aunt, whose sudden fluster was amusing to watch. He continued, "You may sleep better at night knowing you have the protection of thrice-blessed water on your doorstep."

My aunt, the cow, nodded in rapid agreement. I decided then, that if it ever came to it, I wanted to be the first person to tell her how much I enjoyed sucking her husband, and how I enjoyed watching him fuck their daughter Celia. That day might never come, but the contemplation of it must have brought an obvious smile to my face, which Pietro the acolyte mistook for my approval of holywater at my doorstep. The fool launched into a rapid, almost adoring account of the thrice-blessing process, and how such devices were sure to keep evil from our household.

I stared at him through the half-lidded veil of my dark eyes, not hearing a word he was saying, but despite myself, found my mind imagining what his cock must taste like if I let it slide over my tongue. My female senses told me that this young boy was throughly charmed by me, and this both delighted and bored me, all at once.

My half-hearted nods must have been mistaken for politeness, for nobody noticed a thing, while inside my heart yearned to wander the streets of Rome again, so that I might find Rafaelo in some dark alley, and he might give me more of his rich rewards from his thick cock.

The afternoon ended, and with the darkening shadows, my uncle the priest and his weak little minion departed for home. I breathed a sigh of relief, and my younger uncle later told me to meet him in the stables once the moon had set.

When I went up into the loft, the horses, usually restless (and more so if the demon was about) were quiet this evening, as if growing used to the nearly-nightly trysts going on above their heads. My uncle kissed me and fondled me, and I allowed him to slip his fingers down to caress at my clit. I moaned in growing hunger. My hands reached down to stroke at the front of his jerkin and slip beneath, to caress that cock I loved to suck. Tonight, I would let him fuck me.

He stripped off my robe, and I lay in the hay, while he undressed nearby and lay next to me. I whispered, "I have been thinking... perhaps it is best if you are the first." He groaned and rolled over my small body with his own long one, forcing apart my knees with his own and claiming my lips to press his tongue inside my mouth. I tightened down on the muscles inside my cunt, so his eagerly searching cock would encounter no easy entrance as he tried to slip inside.

He reached beneath him and ran the tip of his streaming cock over my clit and back down to the entrance of my vagina. He pushed, straining, and met the resistance as my muscles closed down nearly completely. I whimpered in fake pain, and up on his elbows above me, he caressed the side of my face. "Hush, it shall only hurt a moment, then it shall be like heaven."

The fool pushed in again, and this time I let my muscles slacken all at once so he slid home to the root. I gasped and tears rushed to my eyes in a mocking fake of virginal agony. He held me, in a weak attempt at comfort, that nearly made me burst out laughing, then began fucking me in earnest. He was so taken by his lust that I would have had no delight in the act if I was truly an untested virgin. However, the idiot was so taken by the lusts I was pumping into his flesh that all he could think about was thrusting into my cunt furiously, seeking the oblivion of release, and my now-yielding cunt knew the familiar feeling of fucking all too well.

My answering pleasure came swiftly, and I rose up to meet each of his fucks with a tilt and swivel of my hips. His gasps became rapidly labored, and with a stifled cry he hilted himself into my cunt and began to spurt. My answering orgasm sucked up every drop of his juice, leaving me temporarily sated and limp beneath my uncle as he squeezed the last of his cum into my still-hungry cunt.

Later that evening, still not fully sated, I managed to slip from the house, clad in my dirty, cum-stained robes of the night before, and fucked and sucked three different men that night, leaving them each exhausted after filling my holes completely. I was disappointed that I had not come across Rafaelo, for his cum was unusually sweet and rich, and I had a taste for him, for some reason. However, the three men I had sucked were all satisfying. One was a short, older man, who seemed as if he was about to drop dead from the pleasure, and two others were about my younger uncle's age, both filthy and undoubtedly covered in sores and fleas, though I seemed to escape unscathed. I had no shame in fucking the refuse of the streets of Rome, for I was no fine lady, and they had no care for what I was. I felt over-full, and stumbled home soon before dawn with enough time to hide my filthy robes beneath my mattress, wash, and don clean bedclothes quietly before I fell asleep alone in my bed, with the taste of cum still lingering on my tongue.

Next: Celia's betrothed makes a call.

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Well, that's all I have. If you want more, you gotta put me in touch with the author so I can ask for more chapters out of him/her.

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