die by the sword

She reaches with both hands to untie her ponytail. Angelic blonde waves pour free, draping and framing her face and shoulders. She tosses them back and lights a cigarette. “You aren’t getting out of this, honey. You may as well lie back and enjoy.”

She’s mostly right. Your limbs are immobilised: hands crudely but effectively cuffed to a solid oak bedpost, legs likewise secured to a spreader bar keeping you from twisting your hips or closing your legs. Your cock stands proud and ready. Once she has lit her cig it recommences being rolled in Aisling’s hand as she pumps you, casual and practised.

She’s so beautiful it’s almost difficult to look directly at her. Sculpted brows, incongruously dark, over crystal blue eyes. The kind whose iris is ringed in black, so when she stares at you it feels like two bullseyes are pinning your heart to the back of your chest. You know what she is and it’s still hard to resist her.

Cora knew what she is, too. And she still joined the chorus of souls locked inside of her.

“I don’t know what you did to piss off the mâitre d’ so much. But you’re my special for the evening.” Those drill bit eyes grind into yours. It’s all you can do to deflect, to pretend to show adoration when secretly you wish to rend her in two.

“I asked for y—”

“Quiet,” she snaps. Layers upon layers of voices hanging on the periphery of awareness bolster her order and you are silent. Your jaw feels like it has been wired shut. It makes the skin on your back crawl: you long to weild your hidden blades.

“That’s better. You really are a fine specimen. A real three-course meal.” Her hand masturbating you gives a squeeze, causing your whole body to tense. She’s actually… you’re close to the edge already.

She smirks, smoke curling out the corners of her mouth. That’s how she wants it. How many people has she broken in this way? Cracked them open with pleasure and then sucked out their core? Your skin crawls even as you moan.

“Does that feel good? Your cock in my hand? I swear you’ll feel even better in a moment, honey.”

If she comes at you with her mouth you’re going to lash out with your tendrils, try to free yourself and take it to a fight. There is no way you could do anything if she swallows your load. The ritual would fizzle in her stomach and the rest of you would probably follow.

Relief floods through you as she grips the cig between her lips and sits up, positioning herself over your twitching cock. Around the fag she murmurs, “Cum for me and be mine.”

And then she sits.

The sensation alone is almost enough to overrule you. Slick heat rolls down over your cock and the man in you wants only to rut and disappear. Cool blue eyes watch you, expecting precisely this.

Instead, as your nerve endings burst into flames on their way into her pussy, you force yourself to focus and inhale. Her spirit brushes up around you, fondling yours with long inward-pointed spines poised to pierce. She is a bear trap and no matter which way you cut it, you are walking right in.

Your long inhale fills your lungs and brings clarity. Even as you feel your orgasm rising through your body you bolster your spirit. When her acquisitive hips reach their nadir—when you are wholly engulfed—you strike.

A bee hive will defend itself violently from intruders, but once a wasp is inside, there is no defence. As you cum you thrust part of your spirit deep inside Aisling. You fight the urge to struggle and escape, which would dash you on those spines and let her tear you apart. Instead you give and give, filling her with your cum and your essence.

At first she groans with delight. Her meal has a soul much greater, much richer than any mortal she has tasted! The moment’s distraction is enough time for you to penetrate the mattress with your tendrils and slice through your hands’ bonds.

The first time uncertainty crosses her face is when she feels your hands on her hips. By reflex she tries to pull away but you clamp her there, continuing to pour out into her. Feeding her from the ritual’s reservoir. Pumping her full of you.

“Nng… What are you doing?”

“You want me, you greedy bitch?” You grunt as another burst of vindictive pleasure forces a new wave of ejaculations, stretching her internal cavities. “Then take me already!”

“What?— No, it— It hurts!” She scratches at your chest and face but you ignore it.

Something is happening to her. Her little belly is swelling, growing pale and slack beneath the previously tanned skin. She begins to whimper. One hand presses hard above her belly button like she’s trying to hold something back.

“Please, stop! Stop!”

“You didn’t stop,” you murmur. Inside her, still gripped by voracious pussy lips, you feel her melt into creamy softness. You grant her a toothless thrust, lifting her and ramming her back down on your cock.

You feel your latest ejaculation like an extension of yourself, curling through her body like smoke. Where it goes it dissolves her flesh. Where her flesh dissolves it binds her spirit into more cum.

“Didn’t… stop?” she asks, as your latest thrust uncreates her guts and turns more of her into a pale sac of your cum. Streamers of white corkscrew upwards beneath her skin. Her arse is two skin-coloured water balloons slapping against your thighs.

“You ate my friend. I’m taking her back. Along with— hff— along with everything else you have.”

If she is minded to reply, Aisling cannot manage it. Perhaps she knows she has no defence. Perhaps it is because the encroaching wave of your spunk has burst through and assimilated her diaphragm, and she is now drowning in white as you dissolve her lungs.

She flops like a sex doll. You roll her onto her back and keep stroking yourself into her as her heart dissolves, as her terrified blue eyes cloud pearlescent and white. Even then, you can feel her weekly struggling, her potent, thieving soul animating the woman-shaped sack of jizz with little fluid eddies.

They’re all in there. Maybe hundreds of souls lashed to hers, all fighting to free her like good little thralls. You recognise Corazon, her fiery defiance crushed, dissolved and altered to better serve the creature you have just turned into your cum. In your mind you hear her beg you to release Aisling.

Nothing left to save, then.

With a moment’s concentration you relax certain muscles and pulse others. There’s a knack to it. Most of the suction comes from deep within.

Aisling tries to scream when she feels herself being drained into your pulsing dick. No sound comes out but you get to see her red-painted lips open wide and watch the lake recede with each gulp. She flings souls down your cock and you drink each one of them up, but it’s not enough to save her. As her body deflates, soon you are pulling the dregs out. She kicks and screams all the way inside, but there is no way she can avoid that terminal slide along your thick shaft. Her world goes dark and she joins the many others sloshing around in your belly, awaiting the moment you crush them into you.

You withdraw, panting, from the exhausted skin. Your belly swells in the strangest place, like a low-spung pregnancy on your toned male body. When you poke it you can feel liquid flow inside you. It thickens over time as you reabsorb it into your body.

A fitting end, you think to yourself as you pull on your clothes. Your shirt doesn’t tuck in any more. As a succubus, Aisling mastered the arts of lust, but amounted to nothing more than a hyper-extended orgasm for you.

As you step out of the room, you look back at the bed and cradle her remains in your belly. “Live by the sword,” you murmur, “die by the sword.”