[Haunted Glen] (Closed) Be Careful What You Wish For.

[Ace]

The Calla lilies bloomed last night, Diary.
This year, perhaps more than the last, felt so much longer in passing. I fear that waiting has begun to take its toll on my
spirit, but I simply cannot give up my last threads of hope. For my beloved's sake, I cannot.

Tonight I will return once more to the Glen.
May God have mercy on my soul.

The sounds of the owls, hooting gently to one another in companions' undertones, were all around him as a troubled and pale young man made his way tentatively through the forest. A symphony of crickets and cicadas joined in shortly thereafter, gossiping with the toads and the fairyfolk about the strange youth, and how long had it been since a human braved these remote woods? One year, was it? Almost to the day. Could this have been the same man?

Yes, they whispered amongst themselves as the man, armed with only a flickering torch against the consuming darkness, knelt in the patch of calla lilies and drew something out of his jacket. His face, even in the red half-light of the pucks that drifted past, looked drawn well beyond his years. His eyes were shadowed beneath with pockets of dark, dusty blue and deeply etched worry lines had formed around what would otherwise have been a very sweet and tender mouth. The same one that had come on this night one year ago, and the year before that. The wildlife tittered with satisfaction.

Nestled there--even half-buried--amongst the unearthly, white flowers, was a stone slab. It had eroded badly over time; Corners crumbled away and a large crack, like a scar, cut grotesquely down the middle so that one uneven half of the mass had broken upwards from the other. A handful of beetles scurried away from the spot when the young man, called Alary in his village, chose here to take a knee. Before long a wavery voice began to sound from his fervently moving lips, barely audible against the unearthly croonings of the glen. He spoke an awkward mixture of his native language and the broken gibberish he'd picked up in his readings into the arcane, and one name repeated again and again: Elizabeth. My love. Elizabeth. Dark splotches appeared in the dirt before him, where droplets of water leaked from the man's tightly squeezed eyes.

Get on with it the glen whispered in his ear, sounding nothing short of sinister and gleeful.

The haggard youth held his hand out before him, and drew the knife over his palm. Crimson blood dripped down onto the slab. The thicket around him grew cacophanous, suddenly, with the roar of the cicadas, pixies and nymphs. Birds alit from their perches and flew over his head an a mirthful circle, squawking like grackles, and an icy, cold gale blew over it all and brought goosebumps to life on the man's arms and the back of his neck. Tree branches and Alary's hair both rustled in the forest's chilling breath. In the years before, this was all his summoning ritual had ever amounted to; the grieving youth had never returned home successful in his sinful excursions. A little spooked, a little dirty, but always without the lost lover that he pined for.

That was why he scarcely believed the white, soft silhouette he could see emerging from the shadows now. It was a woman.. or the hint of a woman. The shape of her body was shimmery and translucent, like the reflection of a pool in the dark. He couldn't make out any finer details than that--as if she was still caught in the purgatory between worlds and he could glimpse her only through the gauzy, ethereal boundary that separated them. Ala.. ry..

"Elizabeth!" He cried, despairing with newfound hope. "Is that you?"

trapped... help me.

lay down... the stone

Four years he had made pilgrimage to the most haunted thicket on Terreneus, just to see her face again. Four years he had stayed faithful, even through the darkest throes of loneliness, and misery. And all willingly! Now he was closer to reuniting with his dearly departed than he had ever been; of course he would leap to do this! The man, white as the moon and half wasted away, didn't hesitate for a moment. "Yes, yes of course!" He cried, scrambling onto the slab. A tremor coursed through his hands and fingers. His whole body quivered. The young widower thought his chest would burst with the tremendous insurgence of joy and relief. He laid back on the stone--

and immediately, it was as if an unseen hand reached up through the bedrock and held fast over his chest. The heavy weight of the spirit arm deprived him brusquely of his capacity to breathe. Another invisible lash bound him by the throat. Then the hips. The wrists. He could feel their pressure pulling him down against the marble platform and could not even so much as writhe beneath his binds. "E--" Alary tried to shout but a cinching around his neck cut his voice back to a hoarse gasp. The man's blue eyes widened in terror, watched the ghostly figure in white step towards the stone table and become clear.

"Hello, Alary."

Materialized, scarlet lips split into a wicked, exhilarated sneer. The figure, a strikingly beautiful woman with generous curves and the joy of sadism upon her face, stood over her catch and peered down. As he watched, the innocent, white shift that she wore to bear the appearance of his lost love grew tight on her lustful body and darkened to black, until the nightgown became nothing more than a swathe of leather that skimmed her hips and barely contained the swells of her breasts. 'Elizabeth's' golden hair turned red and extruded a pair of spiraling, yellowed horns. Purple shadows glimmered into being across her pale eyelids. The woman--- the devil--- bent at the waist and leaned down, so her face came close to that of her stupefied captive. She gave him a slow wink, tongue drifting out from those parted lips in an obscenely jovial, teasing gesture. The man struggled and gave a muffled yell, blood pooling behind his sunken cheeks.

"Ah-ah," Alira chided him and stood upright once again. "You got yourself into this one, lover. I have to thank you, though. Why, if it weren't for you.. I wouldn't be here, would I?" The succubus paused and giggled a soft and flirtatious, a-hehn to herself, her hand sliding down the flat of her stomach. A slender tail switched back and forth behind her, extruding from the small of her back. Her ample backside peeked out from beneath the thin shift of skirt.

Striking golden eyes slid to the side and regarded her prey as thin lips curled into a wicked grin. "But I'm afraid I still need more from you," Alira crooned. She turned and stepped back towards the slab, her bare feet padding into the soft, loamy soil. "There's still the matter of my sisters..."

The young man's screams of protest as Alira climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach between her legs, would never be heard. The succubus' every move was deliberate and sensual. She leaned down, slow and oozing as syrup, and curled her fingers around the handle of his forgotten knife. Her skin grew hot with lust against his stomach.

"San fhaisean iobairt fa ar doirteadh fola,"

Alira began, trailing the tip of the knife across his chest with all the precision of a surgeon. And like a scalpel, it just opened his skin; deep enough to draw blood and no deeper. Thick rivulets of crimson seeped from the open wound and pooled around her thighs. Alira moaned. She could barely wait until they, together again, could feed on her prey. And then Her voice spiraled upwards and shook the forest as if in the throes of torrid, passionate gospel.

"Sisters, I summon you!"

[Nox]

In distant lands a chill wind blew through an open window, billowing the silk curtains of an opulently adorned bedchamber. Rich drapes in an undeterminable hue hung about an eerily silent bed from which the soft snores of slumber would never rumble again. Color was unimportant, for bathed in moonlight such wonders as color bled dark and dull. But for the shimmering strands of an unnaturally dark rich crimson that peeked through the dark gap in the half open bed curtains. Lavelle lay blissfully among the silken sheets sated, for the moment. It had been a wonderful evening, culminating in an exquisite meal that the lovely Succubus savored for a good long while. Lavelle was in the habit of playing with her food. This time, she’d played a bit too hard. Ah well. Time to find another playmate. Again, she stretched in the darkness, the back of one long nailed hands brushing the clammy skin of what had formerly been her diner and the owner of the decadent bedchamber in which she longed.

“Uh…” She groaned an a soft yet curiously callous tone, her exquisite features taking on a petulant expression. “Bed hog…” And with a flip of her red tresses and a powerful thrust of one long leg she dumped the corpse through the velvet curtains and off the bed where it plopped unceremoniously onto the cold marble floor on the opposite side. “There.” She purred sweetly, an unseen smile curling her ruby lips. “Much better”

There was where she would have remained for a good long while had the siren song of her sisters call not caught her ear. In an instant long thick lashes split and opened wide with excitement, her long tapered tail flicking at it’s spade shaped tip. Up she sat, tresses of darkest blood tumbling over one shoulder as she cocked her head to listen. Could it be? The molten gold of her irises sparkled in the gloom of night. Had the time finally come? Were they to be reunited at last? Again the unmistakable whispering song of her sisters summons caressed her elegantly tapered ear, and tugging irresistibly on her very being.

Not bothering even to rise from the bed, the Demoness willed the bed silks to form about her lush body into a rather stunning shift then evaporated first into an undulating column of sooty black smoke that lingered for a few seconds before dissipating into the spiritual dimensions. In the Haunted Glen, she re-emerged as the same undulating column of black smoke. This time rising from between the bulbs in a thick patch of death flowers. From enameled toenails the smoke traveled upward forming into dainty little feet, long shapely legs, the dangerous curves of an hourglass figure. At just above the cleft in her rounded buttocks a bit of smoke spilled down the split, forming her spade tipped tail even as the rest formed her long elegant arms, then her hands and finally, her head. The finer details seemed to sharpen more slowly. Little wisps of smoke sharpened into exotically shaped eyes of molten gold framed in thick red lashes, full pouting lips and an aquiline nose and jaw. Atop her head, shining black horns curled along her skull in a tight spiral while luxurious satin tresses of deepest crimson spilled out from her scalp, capturing her perfect face in a soft frame while the rest snaked around her tapered ears only to tumble in shimmering multi-layered waves down the curve of her back. The sheet that the had previously formed into a dress was last as she felt no particular hurry to cover her initial nudity.

Having only just come into the material plane, she presently stood hip deep in bed of freshly opened Calla Lilies, both elegant fingertips and the spade tip of her tail absently rising to stroke the edges of nearby blooms. , Breathing deep, she basked in the glorious scent. To humans, the slender and beautiful Calla Lily gave off no scent. No so to Succubi nor their Cambian offspring. No, to ones such as Lavelle and her beautiful sisters the funeral flower carried with it the scent of debaucherous lust with subtle undertones of decadence, greed and death. An intoxicating cocktail and the perfect setting in which to reunite her beloved sisters.

Lavelle smiled her wicked smile, eyes immediately turning to meet those of her beloved little sister as she stepped free of the flowerbed and stepped closer to the hapless yet delectable buffet laid out upon lusts alter.

“Alira, my glorious sister.” She purred in seductive tones as she approached the beautiful succubus standing beside the nights feast. “How I have longed for this moment.” Lavelle reached out her hand, her look was one pf almost perfect contentment. “It is almost complete.”

[Morgan]

Like a proud mother, Crucia stood, hidden beyond the shadows of the red velveteen curtains, and listened to the young songstress who stood center stage and filled the expansive room with her song. Just five years of age and already the little girl possessed the voice of a siren. Much commotion had been garnered by this young child’s vocal ability and even her contemporaries held her in high esteem.

Swaying to and fro to the beat of the child’s melodic tune, Crucia cradled herself in her own arms and took delight in the silky touch of her own skin. Wisps of blonde framed her angelic features and were it not for the budding horns that protruded from either side of her skull or the massive expanse of membranous wings that lay tucked flush against her back or even the spaded tail that mindlessly tapped against voluptuous hips, the vixen may very well have been mistaken for such a celestial creature.

Crucia had many plans for this fledgling songstress. At such a young age, the girl held a strong life force, untarnished by the worries of life and her innocence was like drops of warm, melted chocolate on Crucia’s tongue. She would consume the child’s life force over time, savoring every sugary morsel, in exchange for the inspiration that kept the child and her family from the pauper’s pit.

It was at the zenith of the child’s performance that Crucia heard the calling. A twisted grin slithered its way across her face before a sudden thought caused a crinkle in the fore of her brow. She would not be robbed of her sweets!

Flinging the curtain to the side, she stormed across the stage. A flurry of fearful cries and woeful gasps drizzled across the room. Unaware of her approaching intruder, the child continued to sing; until she was gripped at the shoulder and spun around forcefully to face Crucia. The last few chords remained choked in the child’s throat, a lump that hardened into stone and was released in the form of a terrifying yowl that could soften the heart of any seasoned warrior. Crucia lifted the child into the air. Dangling before the Succubus, the girl child screamed for her mother who had been sitting amidst the audience and now was clutching the chest of some poor old bastard who pissed himself in fright. Crucia’s wings unfurled behind her and the child began to thrash in the air.

Crucia unhinged her jawbone; that great, massive maw opening and stretching the skin of her face to distorted proportions before she clamped down on the child’s face with a sickening crunch. She feasted on the child’s fear and, as she did, her tail twitched in ecstasy. The entire room sang in splendid horror and Crucia indulged in those delicacies, too, until the child fell wilted and cold and lifeless.

A sudden burst through the ceiling and Crucia had taken to the skies, child in tow until, at the zenith of her ascent, she released the corpse and giggled frivolously as cries of anguish floated up to her when the body crashed through the thatched roof of the theatre.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cloven boots touched the forest floor and it seemed as if the haunted wood shuddered in orgasmic bliss beneath her. Her body, feverish with desire, glistened beneath the rays of the silver disc that clung with melancholic despair to the evening’s blanket. Like a serpent shedding its skin, Crucia stripped herself of her clothing, allowing the satin pieces to fall in crimson puddles that pooled at her feet before she kicked them away.

A serpentine silhouette, Crucia approached the makeshift altar where her sisters had gathered. The pit of her stomach flittered with sexual excitement as she tasted the fear that clung in the air like thick globules of tart, lemony treats and she licked her lips with a forked tongue that flickered against the air to savor its intoxicating essence.

“Mm, Lavelle,” the name rolled off her tongue like cruel seduction as Crucia approached her eldest sister from behind. Soft hands found their way to the ample curve of her sister’s hips as she pressed her body flush against her. Already, that tender spot between her own thighs became moist with passion as she nipped at nape of Lavelle’s neck, “How I’ve missed you, sister.”

A muffled sob captured Crucia’s attentions and she brushed past her sister; her tail entwined itself around Lavelle’s thigh and vibrated as it brushed between her sibling’s legs. Crucia bent at the hips, her nose pressing against the incapacitated man’s own before whispering, “You smell like candy,” then licked her lips.
“Oh, God,” he whimpered.

“Um, not quite,” she giggled as she twisted her head to stare into the beautiful eyes of her other sister, Alira. A long, graceful leg lifted to stretch across the altar and, consequently, the captive’s head as she straddled his face. Sliding that narrow slit down the bridge of his nose, she paused to rest hands atop her splayed thighs. Her head tilted back as she gyrated against him, edging herself to the precipice of ecstasy before allowing her body to slide forward until she sat atop his chest. She lilted forward, her lips opening to allow the slick tongue to flutter out, slither between the blackened leather of her top and tickle the pink tip of Alira’s orbed flesh.

A playful grin teased the corners of her mouth before she bit into the flesh and with a mouthful she looked up, fluttered her lashes and asked, “Miss me?”

[Ace]

"Lavella," Alira exuded a breathless rapture at the vision emerging from the lillies, letting the pet name soak her tongue in its indolent richness. The tip of that pink flesh lingered heavily against her teeth on the last syllable and filled Alira with a self-inflicted, and much relished, desire. The huntress arched her back and an electric current coursed upwards from her blood-stained, sensual flesh as it inadvertently (Or was it?) nuzzled against her captive's thashing hips. His scarlet lifeblood only seeped faster from the wound and thickened the perfume of iron and copper in the air. Alira's arms stretched languidly towards her sister, slender fingers curling into the elder demoness's sanguine hair. "Mm... I'm ecstatic to see you again, my love," Her grip tightened at once and brought Lavelle's face closer to her own with a kind of steamy insistence.

Her siblings, she knew, had no aversion to a little rough play.

Taking Lavelle's lower lip between her teeth, the succubus greeted her long lost and pined for elder sister in a manner that was all too natural for them. What better way to show her adoration than to take that buxom breast under her palm, or let her touch trail down between those nude and supple thighs. Some might cringe, but there was no sin betwixt soulmates.

Gilded irises lifted and Alira's narrow gaze shuttered towards the woods in a flash. She had a huntress's senses all right; otherworldly keen and wholly consuming of her attention. Supple red petals split into a radiant delight that revealed rows of sharp, even teeth. "Crucia's here," she crooned just as the youngest member of the decadent menage a trois stepped into the twilit clearing. And naked! Alira threw her head back and hissed laughing peals of approval. The sound was chilling, and the human between her legs widened his eyes and plaintively whined, like a frightened dog. Watching her sister greet him stirred a craving in the devilish creature's stomach.

Alira's toes curled into the pads of her bare feet, still flecked with the land's sandy soil, and while Crucia took Lavelle into her lascvious embrace she reached out to stroke the sensual nerve endings on Crucia's tail. "Sisters, to me," She murmured, moaning salaciously as the youngest was the first to approach the altar. Her loins moistened with blood and sweet aphrodisia. Crucia dipped her mouth to Alira's breast, and the middle sister sank her fingernails into her scalp and pressed her head in close with a gasp. She concurrently stretched her hand towards Lavelle, tracing her hand up her thigh and brushing with the Venus's carnal warmth. The human struggled and screamed out in muffled horror. So enraptured was she with their long delayed reunion that it took all the determination Alira, already ascending close to the peak of her joy, could muster to take an authoritative tone of voice.

"Join us," she implored of Lavelle as her hand withdrew. And then, to them both, "Come, let us eat before he bleeds himself out and his life expires. We are going to need our strength," Alira finished with a wink.

She bent her spine, hips undulating deeper against the defenseless man whose eyes now streamed with tears, and began to feed.

[Nox]

The aroma of Death Lilies and the blood of Alira’s deliciously panicked victim mingled and filled the Glen with something akin to a heady pheromone. One that stirred the pulse and brought forth a tingling, throbbing quiver between the thighs. What living creature upon any world could possibly resist such a perfume? Certainly not the human victim that lay upon the alter. Even in the depths of his terror his little soldier stood at full salute between Alira’s flawless thighs. Lavelle lifted one hand and passes one ling index finger between ruby swells nibbling it’s tip as she enjoyed a short show before the festivities kicked into high gear. Wicked delight glittered in the depths of her golden eyes as she watched her younger sister stand astride his frantically jerking hips, the electric charge her sensual little display causing her newest pet’s hips to spasm and thrust upward pressing tip to lip in a rain of nudging kisses.

Unable to wait any longer, the elder Demoness drew in one last chest heaving breath, filling her dainty little nostrils with the uniquely exotic perfume before stepping whole heartedly into Alira’s titillating oral embrace. How wonderful to feel the silk of her beloved sister’s skin under her caress once more. The slide of her lips, the teasing touch of her hands and the curve of a thinly covered breast molding tightly against her own. Equally succulent to Lavelle were the taste of Alira’s candied tongue and the glistening moisture from betwixt her thighs. A salty sweet confection so luscious that she broke from her sisters lips to lick the slippery wetness from her fingertips. Ahhh, it was like coming home. Unfortunately the moment did not last nearly long enough for Lavelle’s liking. However the arrival of a the youngest of the sisters brought with it the promise of an even more delectable greeting

Even with a more youthfully feral look about her, or perhaps because of it, Crucia was a vision to behold. Where Lavelle wore scant amounts of clothing simple for the caress of silks and satins against her skin, Crucia seemed to need only the night breeze to adorn her. Momentarily she turned from Alira’s intoxicating embrace to properly greet their baby sister. Joyously she drank from the wine of her delectable mouth, her hands roaming freely over Cru’s perky little breats and down the dramatic curve of her beautiful back side. All the while basking in Crucia’s skillful caress, her back arching under the masterful ministrations of sharp nailed fingertips.

Reluctantly, she released her younger sibling and turned a malevolent gaze and a vicious smirk toward Alira so as to share with her the pride she felt in Crucia’s progress over their years of separation. How adorable that she could, in her youthful exuberance, so expertly taunt their victim. And how supremely seductive were her greetings for her sisters. Indeed it was pure electrified pleasure just to witness her younger siblings embrace. Erotica in which she was free to join at any moment. “Of course.“ She purred at Alira’s invitation. “Dinner is served.“ And join it she did.

Mounting up behind Crucia, Lavelle nudged the younger succubus forward with a curl of her hips so that she might adorn their victims face with her blessings, Immediately a rich vibrating thrum sounded from the depths of her slender throat, much like the purr of a large feline while seeking lips and hands salaciously sought out her sisters for the opening gyrations of their erotic midnight feast. No need to bend. There was more than enough for all three. And besides; Hers was a strong draw. In through her nose she breathed in her portion of his fading life force. Savoring every drop that oozed from his body as his physical excitement grew, peeked and eventually, waned.

[Morgan]

Venial sin embraced the trio and their passion waxed and waned with the ebbing flow of their mount’s life force as incestuous flesh ascribed his soul to mortal sin. The man was young, virile, and possessed peculiar desires that translated well on Crucia’s insatiable palate. Soft hands sought the generous curves of Alira’s hips then careened salaciously towards her abdomen, guiding her sister’s body to lean back and her legs to perch upon Crucia’s shoulders to expose to her the smooth, pink folds at the apex of those lengthy thighs.

A slender digit slipped inside as Crucia leaned forward, her tongue making quick work of Alira’s hooded pearl as that finger sought the spongy button that would tease her sister to the edge of forbidden lust. She drank of her sister’s desire until she felt the heat of Lavelle’s skin draw flush against her own buttocks, then rose from her perch. Hands trailed along the smooth expanse of Lavelle’s skin, an occasional rake of her claws would draw an ardent cry from her eldest kin as Crucia rounded the altar.

Even as he lay there dying, his wanton lust rose from him like waves of steam and accosted Crucia’s nostrils. Oh, what a wicked treat he was; lemony tarts and chocolaty cherries but concealed beneath all that syrupy sweetness was an undertone of secreted desire and Crucia meant to taste that, too. At the head of the altar, she drew full circle and bent at the waist. His eyes rolled and a guttural groan escaped his lips as her sisters writhed in ecstasy above him. Crucia gripped his face and forced his attentions on her.

“You want me,” she teased and the man shamefully nodded his head. Crucia rewarded him with a taste of her sister’s ambrosia that still clung to her lips as she slid her tongue into his mouth to dance against his own. He suckled that slender, pink muscle like a babe at the teat until Crucia drew away from him and stood upright. He whimpered, but her hand still clenched his jaw.

“You need me,” she enticed as she shamelessly gyrated her hips. Again, he nodded, only more fervently.

“Beg,” she displayed herself to him, fingers sliding in and out in quick succession as she bucked her hips against her own hand.

“Please,” he whimpered. His voice was timid and submissive.

“Oh, you can do better than that,” she crooned as she swayed before him. Her hand released his jaw, but only to slide up the side of his face to the top of his skull and grip a handful of hair.

“Please!” He whined as he writhed beneath her sisters, his hips bucking against his restraints, “give it to me! Please?!”

Crucia flashed her sisters a devious grin and licked her lips, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“How can I refuse you your just desserts,” the pitch of her voice dropped a few decibels; her chest expanded as the soft swells of her breasts receded and gave way to a well-defined brutishness; the muscles of her abdomen tightened and became more defined; her hips narrowed; and, there, between those corded legs, a new appendage, flanked by a pair of fleshy, shaven sacks, grew and hardened.

The man’s eyes grew large and his face flushed and when he opened his mouth to protest, Crucia leaned forward and filled it with hardened flesh. He choked and gagged and his body thrashed but still the succubus held fast to that fistful of hair and wickedly thrust those hips against his face. Crucia’s tail twitched elatedly as the tip of it began to peel itself back to expose a spiny protuberance and with a fierce strike against the nape of the man’s skull, ejaculated its poison into his system. Aggressive convulsions ransacked his body as he rode the waves of pleasure that accosted him. Crucia released his hair and his head fell away from her, ropes of saliva still connecting them until she walked away, satiated.
For now.

[Ace]

Little sister had quite the appetite. Both Alira and Lavelle would have sated in a relatively short amount of time, and in feeding the elder succubi were marked by a sinister decorum. For the former, her nourishment came not so much in the carnivorous consumption of flesh, but rather she pressed her nose and mouth close to her victim's blood-slick skin and drank in the noxious, nebulous manifestation of his Earthly life. The essence tingled her lips and tongue as it passed them over and then floated, wispy, down the warm hollow of her throat. Like Crucia, Alira could pick out the subtle nuances of palate. Their victim loved like a boy, earnestly and chemically, and that honey he had clung to for so long savored sweetly against the footprints of shuttered-away sinful lust and wrath in his heart. Alira's mouth moved and vacillated repeatedly against his bleeding belly in the way that one would suck spilled water from the ground: like the bodily wriggling of aworm, pulsing longitudinally in and out and swallowing back thirsty gulps.

"Nnnh," a deeply satisfied groan rumbled from Alira's bee-stung pout. She dragged the back of her thumb across the corner of her mouth as if there were some fluid residue of his life force dribbling quite unladylike down her chin. Mm.. this was better than any hot shower to energize a body, fill it tip to toe with that sublime, relaxing delirium. Fullness for Alira was not a feeling confined to the stomach, but an exquisite and energetic contentment of her every muscle. A small, gratifying burp ascended from Alira's mouth. She covered it and grinned, slinking back away from the altar as Crucia's hunger claimed her and the animalistic baby succubus indulged her most primal, infernal instincts.

Alira curled her arms behind her head, stretching luxuriantly, and then crossed to her elder sister and took the ginger succubus, also satiated with their meal, within her supple embrace, her breasts conforming to the gentle slope of her sibling's back. Arms snaked around Lavelle's waist and Alira spared a contented nuzzle into the crook of her slender throat. Her tongue teased the skin; her hand dropped idly down the flat of Lavelle's stomach and over her sweet pelvic mound. "I just love watching her.." The demoness doted of their monstrous youngest sister, now masculine and ravaging the writhing man's face with malicious euphoria.

When Crucia had gorged herself to satisfaction, both in lust and in hunger, Alira beckoned her with the sensual curl of her index finger. She cupped her kin's chin in her hand and dipped her head, angling it gently. Alira's warm, fleshy tongue slipped lithely from her mouth and licked away the flecked remnants of the young mister Alary Blackthorn's blood and sex from her face. "Now," Alira began decisively. She heaved one of those refreshing exhales, curved her hand over the swell of her hip, and glanced at the thicket of jagged, black trees that surrounded them. "This unfortunate soul won't be going home tonight. Shall we find the empty house he left behind?"

[Nox]

Decedent debauchery was her favorite desert and on this night, Lavelle glutted herself without restraint. And after all… Why not? After many long years of desolate separation with nothing but the fulfillment of men’s dreams and her own appetites to console her, the sisters were reunited. In celebration of that momentous event, (like she ever needed an excuse) the lovely hybrid drank deep of defilement and incestuous glory. For their victim she had immense care and interest. After all, had he not made the initial call? Even if he had sort of… Dialed the wrong number as it were. Did his arousal and sexual satisfaction not give her and her beloved sisters the sustenance that they needed to complete their ritual and remain upon this particular plain until such time as a call more powerful that their own could again divide them? And so, to him she imparted special attention. Even as she gyrated with her sisters in their sinuous and revolving dance of lustfully invasive reunion she road the waves of his ecstasy. Drawing in his life force as she followed those waves to their very source. Spectral fingers caressed and probed his subconscious, seeking out and feeding upon every lurid fantasy hidden there in. From the sweet, loving dreams of resurrecting his beloved Elizabeth and carrying her home through twisting forest trails to a lifetime of domestic bliss, to the darker more twisted visions of what he truly wanted to inflict upon her flawless body once he got her alone again in his cottage. Such gourmet fare, plated to perfection in a naturally beautiful presentation.

Fully sated, at least for the moment, Lavelle dismounted and stepped away from the dying man long before it was due to expire. Like Alira, she left those last bits of sexual spark to their younger sister. What a delight it was to see her so enjoy herself in her youthful gluttony. Casually she groomed herself in feline style, licking away the glistening essences of their ritual from her lips, fingertips and the tip of her tail. Such accumulations were far too luscious to waste. Then the long legged demoness then gave a languid head to tail shimmy that shook out tresses of deepest crimson and jiggled the rounder portions of her voluptuous figure in titillating fashion as the motion traveled down the curve of her spine. Natural enchantments caused the last vestiges of accumulated blood, sweat, saliva, semen and feminine ejaculatory fluids to crystallize, falling away from her smooth moon drenched skin in a shimmering shower.

“As do I.” Lavelle purred, dropping a soft kiss upon Alira’s neck as she came to stand within the circle of her sister succubus’ arms, one hand slipping idly down to absently caress her tail. “How creative she has become.”

Golden fire shown from under thick sanguine lashes as she too was entertained by site of darling little Crucia skillfully ravaging their victims oral cavity with the engorged flesh of her newly sprouted appendage. All while her barbed tail injected it’s ‘venom’ directly into his dying brain, giving it one last jolt of adrenalin with which he could provide a vigorous finishing note to their youngest siblings ecstasy. At last, Alary lay still upon the slab when Crucia finished her meal, his life force spent and his corpse quickly cooling. An acceptable sacrifice to the Dark Deities of Lust.

Just as Alira so brilliantly surmised, his now abandoned cottage could indeed provide the sisters with a nice, if temporary, little niche. “It is a good thing I have a love of fantasies my dearest.” She replied, as long digits smoothed her hair back into polished crimson curls around the crook of her obsidian horns. “ No need to sniff out his tracks and retrace his steps. For I already know the way home.” And with a beckoning curl of her long fingers and an ethereal twirl, she murmured, “Come Crucia… Come Alira… Let us claim what is rightfully ours. “ With that, Lavelle evaporated into a thick black vapor and floated upon the breeze like a sinuous black serpent along the twisting trail that would end at a still dark cottage on the edge of the forest.