Sins of the Succubus

2. Neela

2

NEELA

I step off the stage, my skin crawling from the lewd comments and whistles that follow me like a pack of hungry wolves. My feet ache, throbbing with each step, and sweat trickles down my back as I hurry to the cramped, dimly lit changing room. The stale air in here is hardly better than the smoke-filled bar, but at least I can breathe for a moment.

"Nice moves out there," one of the other dancers says, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. I can see the same exhaustion and desperation in her gaze that I feel in my bones.

I nod, not trusting my voice. How can I explain that their admiration feels like acid on my skin? That each catcall and groping hand chips away at what little self-respect I have left? Not that I would have to help her understand any of it.

Peeling off my stage outfit, I slip into my waitress uniform - if you can call a scrap of fabric that barely covers anything a uniform. It's more like strategically placed bits of cloth held together by hope and a prayer. I catch a glimpse of myself in the cracked mirror and hardly recognize the woman staring back. Her eyes are hollow, her smile forced. I used to be so full of life, with dreams and aspirations. Now, I'm just a shell, going through the motions.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for what's to come. I push through the swinging door into the main bar, the hinges creaking in protest. The air is thick with smoke and the stench of cheap ale, assaulting my senses. Hungry eyes latch onto me immediately, and I can feel their gazes burning into my skin. Another night in hell begins.

"Well, well, look who's back," a gruff voice calls out. "Come here, sweetheart. I've got something for you."

I grit my teeth and plaster on a fake smile, my stomach churning with dread. "What can I get you, sir?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Meaty hands grab at my waist, pulling me close. The stench of ale on his breath makes me want to gag. "How about a taste of you, hmm?" he slurs, his eyes roving over my body.

I try to squirm away, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm just here to serve drinks right now," I say, fighting to keep the panic out of my voice.

He laughs, a harsh sound that makes my skin crawl. "Oh, come on now. We both know that's not all you're here for." His hand slides lower, and I feel bile rise in my throat.

"Stop it," I hiss, finally wrenching free. My heart pounds as I back away, bumping into another patron. The room seems to spin around me, the leering faces blurring together.

This one, a dark elf with cruel eyes, grabs my arm. His grip is like iron, and I can feel the malice radiating off him. "Where do you think you're going, little human? Don't you know your place?"

Panic rises in my throat, threatening to choke me. I've dealt with handsy customers before, but something about today is different. It's like they've become obsessed as soon as they see me, their eyes glazing over with a hunger that terrifies me to my core. And unlike before, I don't feel all that keen on sitting and taking it. There's a fire building inside me, unfamiliar and dangerous.

"Please," I whisper, hating the tremor in my voice. "I need to get back to work." But even as I say it, I know it's futile. The dark elf's grip tightens, and I can see the others closing in around me. I'm trapped, and for the first time in years, I feel something other than fear and resignation. I feel rage.

He yanks me closer, his breath hot on my ear. "This is your work, whore. Now, how about you and I find somewhere more private?"

I shake my head frantically, my heart pounding in my chest. "No, I can't. My husband-" The words catch in my throat, fear and desperation clawing at me.

"Your husband?" He laughs, the sound echoing through the bar, harsh and mocking. It sends a chill down my spine. "You mean your owner? He's the one who put you here, isn't he? Face it, girl. You're nothing but a toy for us to play with."

His words cut deep, because I know they're true. The realization crashes over me like a wave of icy water, leaving me numb. I've always known it, but hearing it said so bluntly makes it ten times more disheartening.

My husband - my owner - he's the architect of my misery, the one who threw me to these wolves. And now, surrounded by leering faces and grasping hands, I feel more alone and helpless than ever before.

“You’re just a human woman,” he sneers. “Who are they going to believe? You have no power here. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take me in the back, suck my dick, and let me come all over you.”

Something inside me snaps. Years of pent-up rage and humiliation surge through my veins like liquid fire. Without thinking, I grab the nearest glass and smash it against the dark elf's face. The satisfying crunch of glass meeting flesh echoes through the bar.

"Don't you ever touch me again, you piece of shit!" I snarl, my voice barely recognizable.

The elf staggers back, blood trickling from a gash on his cheek. His eyes narrow dangerously. "You'll pay for that, you little bitch!"

Before he can lunge at me, my husband materializes between us. For a fleeting moment, hope flutters in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, he'll defend me this time.

"What in the nine hells is going on here?" he demands, his cold gaze sweeping over the scene.

I straighten my spine, daring to meet his eyes. "This... customer was getting between me and my work. I told him no, but he wouldn't listen."

My husband's lip curls in disgust, but to my horror, it's directed at me. "Is that so?" He turns to the bleeding elf. "My deepest apologies, sir. It seems my wife has forgotten her place."

The elf's anger morphs into a sly grin. "No harm done... as long as she makes it up to me."

My stomach churns as my husband nods. "Of course. If he wants to have his way with you, there's an extra charge," he says coldly, not even bothering to look at me.

Why did I think that for once he would stand up for me? Every single day as his wife has taught me better.

My husband's eyes flash dangerously. "The customer is always right, Neela. You know this." He leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. "If you know what's good for you, you'll follow the price sheet and do as you're told."

The dark elf customer chuckles, clearly enjoying my humiliation. "Well, what are we waiting for? I believe your lovely wife owes me some... personal attention."

I stand there, frozen, as the reality of my situation crashes down around me. Any remaining hope I had crumbles to dust. In this moment, I realize I truly am nothing more than property to be used and discarded at will.

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.