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Offline Kuriosity

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Incubus [Winner of September/October 2017]
« on: September 11, 2017, 10:08:21 AM »
Incubus

She’d never thought of herself as a slut. Or an Angel, for that matter.

It probably started because of her name – Angel. Not Angelica or even Angie, but Angel, as lovingly christened by her adoring parents blessed with the arrival of their first and only daughter after three boys. Welcomed into the world with such a label, how could she do anything but defy it?

Besides, this was the world of feminine empowerment, reclaiming her sexuality and showing it proudly. This was the time and place when BDSM novels sold on Walmart shelves, and to hit up the bar as a young single woman was a sign of bravery, not twisted morals. So why should she see herself as a slut?

No, she was strong. Or she had been.

Angel sank a little deeper into the couch, arms tight around her fair, freckled chest. Not because of the cold, no. This place always seemed a little too hot, in fact. Especially when he was here.

And that’s why she held herself, cradled herself and hid under the gold curtain of her hair. Because he would be arriving any moment.

The condo was in good order, of course, clean and organized during those few quiet hours she had when he was away. She’d eaten a little – he’d told her recently she was getting too skinny, not enough flesh to grab and properly sink his hands into. It was hard – he never ate, after all – but she forced it down. She’d showered and brushed her teeth, run a comb through her hair until it lay sleek against her bare back. She never wore clothes here, only makeup and heels. 

Those were his instructions. She obeyed them faithfully, even when she wanted nothing more than to smash her pretty face into the bathroom mirror as she made herself up for him. Even as she waited for him, nails digging into her arms to leave pink crescents. Half in need, half in fear.

Keys jingling. The door opened. He spoke aloud, playful. “Where’s my little Angel, hm?”

The war began in her. She bit her tongue to stay silent even as she fought the urge to stand – no, to crawl to him, to crawl and start humping his leg like a dog. To beg for his attention, his approval, his cruelty and his come inside her.

They’d met at a club, of course, where she met most of her hookups. Usually they came to her. She was pretty, after all – an Angel. So fair and gold and curvy in all the right spots, molded for roaming hands. She enjoyed their attentions and moved on the next night.

But not with him.

There you are.” He circled around the couch and chuckled, taking a handful of her hair, jerking her head up. She whimpered. “You’re not sulking, are you? Don’t worry, my little Angel. I have plenty of energy left for you, tonight.”

Horror and craving in tandem, like blood and honey. Her jaw tingled. Her stomach turned. He leaned in close, murmuring against her ear. “I’ll fill you up and give you exactly what you need to be happy. Did you miss me, my sweet little slut? Give me just a few more minutes.”

He was dressed as he always was at night – black leather pants, a black top with a v-neck that dipped just enough to be tantalizing, to show just a glimmer of his own golden hair on his chest. Brown eyes with a circle of a shade almost red, hair often spiked or smoothed down with gel that smelled like juniper, sharp and cold like his cologne. A perfect leather playboy, a model. Smiling as he turned away to put down his things and undress.

He’d exuded sex, that night. Oh, every boy dressed like him, but he still stood out. Like pheromones, like magic, some ability beyond her understanding drew her to him. On a whim she asked to buy him a drink and he’d laughed, congratulating her on defying the gender stereotype. They’d drank, they’d talked – she could hardly remember about what. And he’d taken her home.

She’d been there since, a prisoner. Or maybe not. Did it count as imprisonment if she couldn’t bring herself to leave?
“Why don’t we play that game again?” Almost as though reading her mind he snickered, glancing at her over his shoulder as he shed layers. “You know the one. The keys are on the kitchen counter.”

No. Please, no. It was too much, too humiliating. Angel swallowed hard, dry and scratchy, then stood. It was never hard to get the keys, at least. She curled her hand around them, squeezing hard enough for the edges to impress into her palm.
She always did, hoping the pain might help her succeed.

It never had.

He watched from behind her, leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed. Not laughing aloud, no, but she could feel it from him. His amusement, his sadistic pleasure.

“Door’s right there, Angel. You could go back to it all, if you really wanted to. Your University, your family – your parents must miss their little girl. Your friends, that girl with the purple hair when we met at the club. All you have to do is leave.”

She just had to leave. She just had to leave. Just put the key in the lock, yes. Her breath came in shudders as she pressed it in, holding so tight her hand shook. Turn it, walk out, walk away, run even naked if it meant freedom.
Freedom from abuse, being beaten and struck, humiliated and reduced to spit and tears and a repository for semen.

Never having him use her, fill her again.

Never tasting him again, never being satisfied, whole ever again.

The keys fell to the floor with a clatter. She fell to his feet in a pile, sobbing, shaking, kissing the freshly shined leather of his boots. “Please, please. Oh, god, please, let me go, don’t make me leave.” A wretched sound left her, something wrenched from somewhere deeper than her chest, soul-rending. “Please, please…”

“I know, I know.” He cooed and grabbed her by the hair again, dragging her up onto her knees, neck craning. “My poor little Angel, you need this. You just can’t live without it, can you? Not a day goes by where you don’t crave me.”

And there it was. She was an addict now, and he her drug.

She’d never believed in angels or gods, or any of that. It never appealed to her, fairy tales or Biblical passages or anything in between. She wished they had. She might know more, some secret key to escape that now she’d never have. All she had was his title and his power.

Incubus. Almost vampiric in nature, a creature that lived off the sexual energy and appetites of those around them, drained them dry. He went out hunting every night or so for victims, leaving them dried husks in the alleyways, or dropped off of a bridge to dissolve into dust in the river.

But not her. When he’d taken her, used her so she was gasping and pleading for him to stop and for more in the same breath – when she felt so dry, so exhausted, so lifeless that she’d simply fray apart like a dead, dry plant – he’d pet her hair and let her sleep. ‘I’ve always wanted a pet’, he said.

She was babbling. Lost in thought she hadn’t realized it but now, as he gave her hair another tug to bring her closer to the bulge in his pants, she realized. A mixture of incoherent pleading and denial. She could already feel the itch of mascara dripping down her cheeks with her tears.

But there it was against her cheek,  heat and a promise, the scent he exuded dark and alive and masculine and enough to make her mouth water, her gut tighten with need. And her pussy was as wet as her face.

“Get to work, whore.” He spoke in a sing-song voice even as it grew guttural, hand tightening and giving her hair another tug. She set to freeing him immediately – drawing down his zipper with her teeth, nosing around and gently tugging the button from its hole, desperate to get beneath the material separating her from her addiction.

“Good little slut.” His cock sprang free, hard and reddened at the tip, dotted with black stud piercings all along the sides. Was he, at some point, a masochist himself? Or did he just love the pain it caused his victims to feel that thick cock scrape inside them as though barbed?

It didn’t matter. She needed it. She needed him. She almost inhaled it, hands moving automatically behind her back as she struggled to swallow down more of his length. A chuckle above her. His hands moved back into her hair, gripping her skull. “So hungry. What would the people out there say, Angel, seeing you like this?” He jerked forward and pulled her towards him, forcing another inch into her, laughing again as she gagged. Her throat ached with the drag of those studs, and under the thick, salty-musky taste of his cock she could feel the tingle of copper. “Take it all or you don’t get even a drop, whore.”

She wanted to pull away and spit in his face, run down the street and beg someone for help. Wanted to go back to her old life – no, even before the clubs, she’d never go to a club again. She wanted –

No, she needed this. She needed to be used and emptied and filled up again.

She began to work his shaft herself, bobbing her head back and forth, dragging her tongue along the thick vein of the underside. He groaned, giving his hips a little upwards buck to send in another inch, then another, painfully slowly. Then back, enough to let her catch a gasp of air. In again. Blood, precome, yes, being used, tasting him, he was so sweet in her mouth and down her throat.

He became more active, letting her act as a passive hole for him to fuck as he began to slam in and out of her throat, using her hair as a rein. Her jaw ached, spit dripping down her chin, glistening on her tits. It hurt, god, it hurt, those studs scraping and his thickness, his length forcing its way into her resistant throat. But she had to take it all. She had to. She needed him, she needed him.

Finally she had him all, bulging in her throat, tongue up beneath the weight of his sack as he gave another groan, squeezing the sides of her head. He held her tight for a long few seconds – ten, fifteen. Rocking just a half inch in the tight heat of her blood-and-spit slick throat. Any attempts she made to breath, to even inhale through her nares were thwarted by the come and spit build up around her mouth. Her eyes were red-rimmed, watering, little spots of light dancing behind them.

“There’s my little Angel, my sweet, slutty little Angel-whore.” He purred to her, rocking in and out, grip tightening on her skull before he let go entirely. “Which do you need more, to breath or my come?”

They both knew the answer. Even as her chest burned and her head throbbed, as the light spots turned black, she forced herself to stay. A willing vessel. She heard a long, drawn-out growl above her, felt his cock throb and finally, finally, that blessed bitter taste coating the back of her throat, drowning her. The black overwhelmed the light for just an instant.

“Oh, no, slut. I’m not done with you yet.” He slapped her sharply and pushed her away as she instinctively began to gasp. Her chest shrank and expanded desperately, slick all the way down the center of her chest. Another slap. Another. The copper taste grew stronger, pain turning into dizziness as he hauled her up and threw her over the back of the couch.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, please, fuck me please, fill me.” Ragged between gasps the words left her, mumbled. “Please, please, every hole I need it, I need it, I need it – “

“Greedy slut. You’d drain any normal man dry, huh?” Another low chuckle. He repositioned himself behind her and slid the slick head of his cock between her lips. It would hurt. It always hurt. Still, she lowered herself, spread her legs wider. “There’s my good little Angel. Take it all for me.”

Impaled she was forced onto her toes over the couch, his cock forced in to the hilt without pause. It knocked the breath from her, and she had little time to catch it before he was fucking her hard – no, not hard, viciously. Feeding off her pain and her need for more. Whimpers turned to cries, to screams as he dug his hands into her hips or her tits, squeezing them and leaving deep, ugly bruises behind overtop of the faded ones from before. The head of his cock sliding against that bundle of nerves, a momentary pleasure, before slamming against her cervix and back again. More blood, more semen, more heat, more, more, she needed more because it was never enough but she needed it to end.

He turned to her ass next, fucking her raw and forcing her to beg for more even as she felt her insides burn with the heat of the come already in her cunt, in her belly. Tearing her, breaking her, lubed up by those scraping barbs and her own moisture from her cunt, enough to get it in, not enough to slow the shrieking sting of her it. Finally returning to her mouth and using her one last time despite her revulsion. No, no other feelings mattered. The fear, the pain, the hatred and disgust and any shred of arousal – and there was arousal, no matter how much she hated it. No, all that mattered was being used by him, filled by him, sated by him.

“That’s enough for tonight, I guess.” He sighed and flopped down on the couch, grabbing a remote shoving her down on the floor as idly as pushing away a distracting pet. “I don’t want to wear you out too quickly. I can get another couple of months out of you before I get another pet.”

She lay at his feet, whimpering. White turned pinkish in dribbling streams from her cunt and ass, smeared across her face with the black smudges of mascara and red of her lipstick. It all went cold on her, sweat and blood and semen, as he flicked on the TV and rested his booted feet on her side, heels digging in to her ribs.

She was okay. She was good, now. His hunger was sated.

And for now, so was hers.
« Last Edit: November 01, 2017, 08:36:41 PM by Red Right Hand »

Offline Eigniu

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #1 on: September 11, 2017, 11:15:19 AM »
Amazing story, @Kuriosity.

I've often been intrigued by the concept of incubi, but you just did an excellent job of showing the level of control they would have, and the way their victims would be railing against it even as they beg for more.

Loved it.

Offline Kuriosity

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #2 on: September 11, 2017, 04:01:45 PM »
Thank you!  :laugh2: Once I settled on the idea of an Incubus everything else just sort of settled into place - what he'd look like, 'Angel', the game. It's nice when writing goes easy instead of trying to wring out even just a few words.

Offline darkfantasygirl

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #3 on: September 11, 2017, 04:29:08 PM »
:clap: very good. lots and lots of good competition in this months entries.


love it :heart:

Offline Red Right Hand

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #4 on: October 02, 2017, 05:04:05 PM »
This is one of the eleven entries for the September/October 2017 Story Contest.

We need your support. Members are eligible to vote in our poll: http://www.rapecage.com/forum/index.php/topic,3652.0.html

Guests who wish to vote MUST register first: http://www.rapecage.com/forum/index.php?action=register


Voting ends October 31st, 2017 at a random time. Please try not to wait till the last moment as the poll will close without warning.
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Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #5 on: October 03, 2017, 12:42:08 AM »
I never really gave much thought to incubi. They just seemed like an inverse Title IX version of the awesome succubus. But they would be the perfect sexual predator, wouldn't they? They can drag a girl in and leave just enough of herself intact to recognize her fate, but powerless to stop it.
Yesterday I stopped a woman from being brutally raped. Turned out I was able to talk her into it after all.

Offline BiancaBlack

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #6 on: October 03, 2017, 03:38:34 PM »
I liked this. Sad at the end where he says he's only going to use and lose her, but what a great portrayal of addiction.

Offline Eigniu

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #7 on: October 13, 2017, 04:17:05 PM »
I don't know if it's poor form to comment twice on a story, but I was just reading through this a second time as I looked at contest entries.

Hot damn. :evil: +rep

Offline randomgirl

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Re: Incubus [Contest Entry]
« Reply #8 on: October 23, 2017, 02:20:42 AM »
As I mentioned in pm, this is one damn good story. Love love love it  :heart:  :x

Offline BadRedxxx

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Re: Incubus [Winner of September/October 2017]
« Reply #9 on: November 02, 2017, 02:02:18 PM »
This story is just perfection. What a lucky angel.
He speaks to her in ways no one before him had, and that’s why it’s impossible for her to not listen.

Offline Corvid

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Re: Incubus [Winner of September/October 2017]
« Reply #10 on: November 04, 2017, 01:26:34 AM »
Congratulations, Kuriosity. You wrote a very vivid story! Thanks for sharing it with us.

Offline WilliamDarked

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Re: Incubus [Winner of September/October 2017]
« Reply #11 on: November 06, 2017, 12:48:45 PM »
Congratz! *slowclaps*

Offline SevenFiftyNine

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Re: Incubus [Winner of September/October 2017]
« Reply #12 on: November 17, 2017, 06:32:04 PM »
Okay. That was great!

Offline BiancaBlack

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Re: Incubus [Winner of September/October 2017]
« Reply #13 on: November 30, 2017, 11:37:45 PM »
Congrats on the win! It was a great story

 

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