Page 4 of Sins of the Succubus

I follow the dark elf to one of the private rooms, my feet feeling like lead with each step. The door creaks shut behind us, and I flinch at the sound. It's like the closing of a cage, trapping me with this monster.

"Well, well," he purrs, his eyes raking over me. "Looks like someone's got a bit of fire in her. I'm going to enjoy putting that out."

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's just get this over with."

He laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. "Oh no, sweetheart. After that little stunt you pulled? We're going to take our time."

My stomach churns as he approaches, his fingers trailing along my arm. I want to recoil, to run, to fight, but I know it's useless. This is my life now, my punishment for daring to stand up for myself.

"You know," he says, his breath hot on my neck, "I've always wondered what it would be like to break a human. To see that last spark of hope die in their eyes."

I clench my fists, anger and fear warring inside me. But there's something more. Something is changing. The spark he wants to extinguish isn't dying - it's changing, morphing into something darker, more dangerous.

I may not have hope, but I have rage. And as his hands close around my throat, I feel it building, a inferno waiting to be unleashed.

3

DREMLOR

Imove through the bustling streets of Protheka, my senses attuned to the ebb and flow of mortal emotions. Boredom gnaws at me, a constant companion in this realm of predictable suffering.

The cacophony of mundane lives grates on my nerves, each petty concern and fleeting joy a reminder of how far I've fallen from the glorious chaos of the Abyss. Suddenly, a wave of despair crashes over me, so potent it nearly stops me in my tracks. The intensity of it is... intoxicating.

"What in the Abyss?" I mutter, my eyes narrowing as I scan the area. The taste of such raw anguish is a delicacy I haven't savored in eons.

The source isn't immediately apparent, hidden among the sea of insignificant mortals. I push through the crowd, ignoring the startled yelps of those who brush against my imposing form. Weaklings, the lot of them. They shrink away, their instincts warning them of the predator in their midst.

The despair grows stronger with each step, pulling me like a siren's call. It's magnetic, irresistible. I have to find its origin, to bask in its exquisite misery. Whatever—or whoever—isemanating such delicious suffering might just be the cure for my endless boredom.

"Watch where you're going, you oaf!" an elven woman snaps as I bump into her.

I barely spare her a glance. "Silence, worm," I growl, my voice carrying an otherworldly timbre that makes her shrink back in fear.

As I round a corner, I spot a seedy bar tucked away in a dingy alley. The waves of despair emanate from within, stronger than anything I've felt in centuries. Intrigued, I pause to observe.

Two dark elves stumble out, their raucous laughter grating on my nerves.

"Did you see the look on that human bitch's face?" one slurs. "Priceless!"

His companion guffaws. "Yeah, she thought her husband would actually defend her. As if!"

Their words pique my interest further. I approach the bar's entrance, adjusting my dark elf disguise with a simple thought. The stench of cheap ale and unwashed bodies assaults my nostrils as I push open the door.

Inside, the cacophony of drunken voices and clinking glasses fills the air. But beneath it all, I sense it—that exquisite despair, more potent than the finest whiskey.

"Hey, newcomer!" a gruff voice calls out. "You looking for some fun?"

I turn to see a burly dark elf leering at me, his eyes glazed with intoxication.

I brush off the drunken elf with a dismissive wave, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room. That's when I see her. A human woman, moving between tables with a tray of drinks, her movements graceful despite the chaos around her. The despair radiates from her like heat from a forge, and I'm instantly captivated.

I lean against the bar, my eyes fixed on the human woman as she navigates the chaotic room. Her hair, a cascade of midnight silk, falls in gentle waves down her back, catching the dim light with each graceful movement. It's a stark contrast to her porcelain skin, which seems to glow despite the grimy surroundings.

Her eyes, though... they're something else entirely. Feline-like and captivating, they hold a depth I've rarely seen in mortals. But it's the pain lurking in their depths that truly draws me in. Such exquisite suffering, barely contained behind those mesmerizing orbs.

As she turns to serve another table, I take in her figure. She's slender, almost too much so, as if she's been deliberately kept on the edge of hunger. Her curves, while subtle, are undeniably feminine. Her breasts, not overly large but perfectly proportioned to her frame, strain against the flimsy fabric of her uniform.

Ah, that uniform. It's a mockery of decency, barely covering what it should while leaving little to the imagination. The fabric clings to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve and hollow. It's designed to entice, to make her an object of desire for these pathetic creatures surrounding her.