Page 1 of Sins of the Succubus

1

NEELA

The acrid stench of cheap ale and sweat assaults my nostrils as I weave through the crowded bar, balancing a tray of drinks. My skin crawls with each leering gaze that follows me, but I force a smile, knowing it's expected. The weight of the tray strains my arms, and I can feel my dress sticking to my skin in the stuffy air.

"Hey, sweetheart," a gruff voice calls out. "How about a little extra service with that drink?"

I turn, my stomach churning. The man's bloodshot eyes roam over my body, making me feel naked and exposed. "Sorry, sir. I'm just here to serve drinks," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.

His meaty hand grabs my wrist, yanking me closer. The sudden movement nearly causes me to drop the tray, and I wince at his vice-like grip. "C'mon, don't be like that. Your husband says you're always available for the right price."

My eyes dart to the bar where my husband, Thaelar, stands watching. His dark elven features twist into a cruel smirk as he nods, giving the patron permission. I feel a wave of despair washover me, knowing there's no escape. My heart races, and I can taste bile in the back of my throat as I realize what's coming next.

"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling as I try to pull away from the patron's iron grip. "I have other tables to serve. You're hurting me." The fear in my chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. I can feel the bruises already forming on my wrist.

"Let her go," a new voice interrupts, firm and authoritative. "Can't you see she's not interested? Or are you too drunk to understand basic decency?"

The grip on my wrist suddenly loosens, and I stumble back, nearly spilling the drinks on my tray. My heart races as I steady myself, looking up to see a young human man standing there. His eyes are blazing with righteous anger, fists clenched at his sides.

"Mind your own business, boy," the first patron growls, rising unsteadily to his feet. "This doesn't concern you."

"Neela ismybusiness," Thaelar's smooth voice cuts in as he approaches, his footsteps silent on the grimy floor. A chill runs down my spine at the sound. "And she'll do whatever I say she does." He turns to me, his obsidian eyes cold and unfeeling. "It's almost time for your dance, girl. Don't keep the customers waiting. You know how they get when they're... impatient."

I swallow hard, tasting bile in the back of my throat. My legs feel weak, but I force myself to nod. "Yes, husband," I murmur, my voice barely audible over the din of the bar. As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of the young man's face. The pity in his eyes makes me want to scream.

As I make my way to the stage, I hear Thaelar addressing the young man. "You're new here. Let me explain how things work. My wife is the main attraction. For the right price, she'll do anything you want. Anything."

The pole feels cold against my palm as I take my position. The lights dim, and the music starts. I begin to move, my bodyon autopilot as my mind drifts. How did I end up here? Forced into marriage at 18, sold like cattle to a man who sees me as nothing more than a commodity.

As I spin around the pole, I catch glimpses of the crowd. Some faces are familiar – regulars who come to leer and grope. Others are new, like the young man who tried to help me. His face is a mix of pity and disgust.

I finish my routine to raucous applause and catcalls. Thaelar's voice rises above the din. "Who wants a private show with our star performer?"

The room erupts into a frenzy of raised hands and shouted bids. My stomach twists as I watch Thaelar's eyes gleam with greed.

"Fifty gold for an hour!"

"Seventy-five!"

"One hundred!"

The numbers blur together, each one a nail in the coffin of my dignity. I stand there, frozen, as my husband's voice cuts through the chaos.

"Sold! To the gentleman in the back for one hundred and fifty gold."

My eyes find the winner – a portly merchant with a cruel smirk. I force down the bile rising in my throat and plaster on a fake smile.

Thaelar's hand clamps down on my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin. "Make him happy, dear. We need the coin."

I nod mechanically, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes, husband."

As I lead the merchant to a private room, a serving girl rushes past with a tray of food. The aroma makes my stomach growl painfully, reminding me of the meager scraps I'm allowed.

"Hungry, are we?" The merchant chuckles. "Maybe if you're good, I'll toss you a bone."

I bite back a retort, knowing it would only lead to punishment later. Instead, I murmur, "That's very kind of you, sir."

Hours later, I collapse onto my small cot in the back room, every muscle aching. Thaelar saunters in, counting a stack of coins.