Sins of the Succubus

11. Neela

11

NEELA

T he crowd roars as I step onto the stage, my heart pounding with a newfound ferocity. Thaelar is furious about the dead orc on his tavern floor, but he can't show it with Dremlor standing there in his glorious demon form.

"Get back to work," he snapped instead, his voice venomous when he forced me toward the stage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the patrons' eyes gleaming with lust and curiosity. I've danced on this stage more times than I can count, but tonight, it feels different. Tonight, I'm not just a pawn in my husband's game—I'm a player in my own right.

I scan the sea of faces, and my gaze locks with Dremlor's. There's a heat in his eyes that wasn't there before, a recognition of the power that now simmers beneath my skin. I crook my finger, beckoning him to join me, and the crowd gasps as he rises from his seat, a predator among prey.

As he approaches, I can feel the pull of our connection, a tangible force that sets my nerves alight. "Thought you could lend a little help up here," I say, my voice laced with a sultry confidence that I've never felt before.

He smirks, those fiery eyes raking over me. "I'm at your service," he replies, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down my spine.

The music starts, a seductive melody that weaves its way through the smoky air. I move with purpose, each sway of my hips, each roll of my shoulders a testament to the new life coursing through my veins. I feel powerful, in control, and as I wrap my arms around Dremlor's neck, pulling him into the dance, I know he feels it too.

I grind against him, the friction between us igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. His hands find my waist, gripping me tightly as I slide down his body, my movements fluid and uninhibited. The crowd watches, entranced, as I straddle him, my breath hitching as I feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me.

The cheers of the audience fuel my courage, and I find myself going further than I ever have before. I'm no longer just dancing—I'm performing a ritual, a celebration of the succubus that I am. I can feel the energy in the room shifting, bending to my will, and I revel in it.

Dremlor's breathing grows ragged, his control slipping as I continue my seductive assault. I can feel the tension coiling within him, a storm waiting to break, and I'm the only one who can unleash it.

"Neela," he growls, his voice barely more than a whisper, "you're playing with fire."

I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear. "Maybe I want to get burned," I purr, and the crowd goes wild.

With a feral snarl, Dremlor's control snaps. He grabs my waist and presses my ass into his erect cock. I bite back the moan at the memory of what he can do with it.

Someone puts a chair up on the stage and I guide Dremlor to sit down, giving him a teasing lap dance as my ass grinds into his erection.

I feel Dremlor's breath hitch as I reach between us, my fingers teasing the hard length straining against his trousers. The crowd is a distant roar, their cheers and jeers melting into a single, pulsating heartbeat that matches the rhythm of my own desire.

I stroke him through the fabric, a wicked smile playing on my lips as his control frays at the edges. "You like that, don't you?" I murmur, my voice thick with need. "Let go, Dremlor. Show them who you truly are."

With a sound that's half growl, half groan, he does exactly that. His body shudders beneath me, his hips bucking as he comes undone, his release hot and fierce against my hand. The crowd goes wild, their fervor reaching a fever pitch as they bear witness to our unbridled lust.

But the revelry is short-lived.

A hush falls over the room as a group of men in heavy robes push their way through the throng, their faces set in grim disapproval. The Vicars of the Hearthkeeper, known for their ironclad morality and thinly veiled corruption, have come to cast their judgment upon us.

One of them, a tall, gaunt figure with a sneer that could curdle milk, points a bony finger at me. "This display is an affront to the sanctity of human virtue!" he bellows, his voice echoing through the silence.

I tilt my head, affecting an innocent expression. "And who are you to judge what brings joy and pleasure?" I ask, my tone light, but the challenge is clear.

The Vicar's eyes narrow, his disgust palpable. "You are a blight upon the moral fabric of our society," he hisses. "Such lewdness is not fit for any respectable establishment."

I laugh, the sound like the tinkling of bells against the backdrop of his vitriol. "Respectable? And here I thought we were in a tavern, not a temple."

Dremlor rises to his full height beside me, a silent sentinel of dark power. The Vicar's gaze falters as it meets his, the fire in his eyes dimming just a fraction.

"Sinful human," he mutters under his breath, the words barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "This is not respectable."

I lock eyes with Dremlor, a silent understanding passing between us. His lips curl into a wicked grin, and in an instant, his magnificent wings unfurl. The crowd gasps, but their shock is short-lived as Dremlor wraps an arm around my waist and extends his other toward the Vicars.

In a blur of motion and a rush of wind, we're transported from the seedy bar to the grand, austere interior of the Vicars' temple. The sudden shift leaves me momentarily disoriented, but I quickly regain my composure, relishing the looks of terror on the Vicars' faces.

Dremlor's voice booms through the sacred hall, dripping with contempt. "If you were true vicars, you'd be helping the people. But you've become corrupted, which is why you visit strip clubs instead of guiding the faithful."

The tallest Vicar, his face ashen, stutters, "H-how dare you bring your demonic presence into this holy place!"

I can't help but laugh. "Holy? Please. Your hypocrisy stinks worse than the back alley of the bar."

Dremlor's eyes blaze with hellfire as he advances on the cowering men. "You claim to serve the Hearthkeeper, yet you prey on the vulnerable. You're nothing but parasites in fancy robes."

The Vicars huddle together, their earlier bravado evaporating like mist in the sun. The gaunt one who had pointed at me in the bar raises his hands, his voice quavering as he calls out, "Hearthkeeper, protect us from this unholy demon!"

Silence. The grand hall echoes with their desperate pleas, but no divine intervention comes.

I saunter forward, reveling in their fear. "Looks like your god's abandoned you. Can't say I blame them."

The youngest Vicar, barely more than a boy, falls to his knees. "Please, have mercy! We didn't mean any harm!"

Dremlor's laugh is cold and cruel. "Mercy? Like the mercy you've shown to those you were meant to protect?"

I watch in awe as Dremlor unleashes his full demonic power. The Vicars' screams echo through the temple as he tears into them, his claws rending flesh and his teeth gnashing bone. Blood splatters across the ornate floor, staining the pristine marble with streaks of crimson.

"Please, mercy!" one of them begs, crawling away on his hands and knees.

Dremlor's laugh is cold and cruel. "Mercy? Like the mercy you showed Neela?"

I feel a surge of dark satisfaction as Dremlor rips the man's head clean off his shoulders. The sight of their bodies strewn across the temple floor fills me with a twisted joy. These men, who had preached virtue while orchestrating my suffering, are finally getting what they deserve.

These bastards are the ones who tore me from my family. They arranged for me to be taken. My mother... she resisted their control. So they punished her by taking me. Of course, they slaughtered her soon after.

My marriage to Thaelar was their doing. They sanctioned it, knowing full well what that dark elf bastard would do to me. They didn't care that I was nothing but a tool to be used, to be lent out.

The air in the temple is thick with the coppery scent of blood, a stark contrast to the lingering incense of prayers long forgotten. I watch with a mix of horror and satisfaction as Dremlor dispatches the Vicars with brutal efficiency. Their screams are music to my ears, a chorus of retribution for all the years of torment they inflicted upon me and countless others.

Dremlor's wings fold neatly against his back as he turns to face me, a sanguine specter of vengeance. His eyes, once aflame with wrath, now smolder with a primal hunger that mirrors the pulsing ache between my legs. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the raw power that radiates from every pore of his being.

I saunter toward the altar, my hips swaying with pure seduction as lust radiates from my very skin. The cold stone against my skin is a stark reminder of where I am—a sacred space now desecrated by our unholy presence. I lie back, the smooth surface of the altar a stark contrast to the heat that burns within me.

"Dremlor," I purr, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings while I arch my back, "Fuck me. Defile me."

He strides toward me, his movements fluid and predatory. His gaze rakes over my body, a low growl of approval rumbling deep in his chest. "You're a vision, Neela," he rasps, his voice rough with desire. "Laid out on an altar, willing and eager for a demon's touch. It's a sight I never thought I'd see."

I spread my legs, baring myself to him in a silent invitation. "Then don't keep me waiting," I challenge, my fingers trailing along the edge of the altar, tracing the intricate carvings that once symbolized purity and devotion.

With a swift motion, he rips the fabric of my clothing, exposing me fully to his hungry gaze. His hands, large and calloused, grip my thighs, spreading me wider as he positions himself at my entrance. I can feel the heat of his body, the promise of a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

He enters me in one swift thrust, his dick filling me completely, stretching me to my limits.

"By the fucking deceiver," he growls, holding me in place while his thick cock throbs inside of me.

I reach down and grab one of his hands, pulling it up to suck a thick digit into my mouth before guiding his hand to my throat. "Don't hold back, Dremlor," I insist. "Breed me with your filthy fucking seed on this altar."