by Hondo Jinx
Illandria’s leathery wings fluttered, beating softly against his face. “Well,” she laughed, “you certainly are full of sur—”
He slammed her down with all his strength and thrust his throbbing girth into her steamy sex, stretching her.
“Oh!” she yelped—and this time, her surprise sounded genuine.
But Dan didn’t pause to consider the reason for that or the implications of that astonishment. He was sticking to the middle of the road—Bost ul ta falil—and staying focused.
Which meant, at this moment, pounding this sex demon with everything he had.
He gave it to her hard and fast, bouncing her on his massive shaft, burying himself to the hilt with every powerful thrust. He would not hurt her, could not hurt her, so he didn’t hold back.
Quite the opposite.
He delivered every thrust with the force of a power punch thrown in a desperate duel to the death, which was exactly what this copulation would be, if he failed. Death not only for Dan but everyone he loved.
But pounding away with every ounce of his 18/92 strength wouldn’t be enough to win over the succubus queen, he knew. Yes, he had to fuck her like a rabid gorilla, but he also had to give her everything—all of his strength, rage, desire, and desperation, all of him, and all of the love in his heart. He had to give her everything without surrendering to blissful oblivion, had to last as long as he could in hopes of knocking her off balance and piercing her sexual prowess.
Strength and desire alone would not save him. He filled his mind and heart with the love for his wives and clung to it like a life preserver that would hopefully, somehow, keep him from drowning in the churning sea of lust boiling within him now.
Dan lifted Illandria off his shaft and lowered her to the ground, where she propped herself up on all fours.
“You’re amazing,” she panted, and leaned forward, sticking her lovely blue ass into the air and swinging it back and forth in a slow, mesmerizing invitation. Meanwhile, her tail danced back and forth like a cobra. Lower, her swollen slit glistened, beckoning him, and draining juices down the insides of her shapely thighs.
Look away, Dan told himself. Her beauty is a spell on its own. A powerful spell.
Getting into position behind the succubus queen, he grabbed her tail by the root, like he had taken to grabbing Nadia’s tail. Thinking of his werewolf wife, he entered Illandria from behind and worked his hips back and forth in long, slow strokes that made the succubus moan with pleasure.
He did his best to ignore these exciting sounds, focusing instead on thoughts of Nadia. Love infused his lust, anchoring him to his purpose and giving him the strength to keep fighting.
Yes, fighting. Fighting like Ula, who would never stop fighting for him, who would never surrender, who had once thrown herself under a giant’s stomping foot just to save him. And thinking of his hobgoblin wife strengthened him again.
Muzzling the insane lust snapping and howling inside him, he pulled free of Illandria and rolled her onto her back.
Her black eyes widened with surprise. “Tell me where you are from, barbarian, that you can so easily break contact with the succubus queen.”
Dan said nothing. He reentered her slowly, as he had entered the hobgoblin woman that first time, when, despite all of Ula’s rough foreplay, she had appreciated his gentleness.
“Yes,” Illandria purred. “Fill me up. Yes. That’s it. Oh, fill me with your huge—”
Dan blocked out her urgings. Illandria wanted him to pound his way straight into eternal slavery. Instead, he took his time, thinking of Ula, and moved rhythmically, as if making love. He did his best to ignore Illandria’s dirty talk, wild squirming, and clawed hands, which squeezed his ass, pricking his glutes as she tried to ram him into her harder and harder, wanting him to commit to the path of no return.
Countless times, Holly, his first wife and first love, had tried similar tricks, shifting gears and trying playfully to steal control. She made a game of it and used to gloat whenever she set fire to his lust and bent him to her will. But he had learned to defend against the tricks of his lovely grey elf, and it had been a long time since he had given her something to gloat about.
This was the same sort of game, he sensed, only with much, much more on the line.
He continued to think of Holly, who domineered his other wives during his harem’s nightly orgies but who increasingly enjoyed slow, gentle lovemaking when she and Dan found time alone together. He pictured Holly’s beautiful face, her intelligent purple eyes, and blocked out Illandria’s filthy suggestions with memories of Holly’s musical voice.
I love you, Dan Marshall. I love you so much. You are going to be an amazing father.
Dan reached under Illandria with one hand and propped up her ass, tilting her pelvis and finding the angle loved so much by Holly, who had sacrificed everything for him. He buried himself in Illandria, who cried out in pleasure, then switched up his strokes, pulling out only a few inches before burying himself again in her snug, slick wetness. At the end of each downstroke, he ground his pelvis into hers, pressing into her clit.
Illandria responded, moaning louder and spewing a stream of urgent porn talk. “Yes, Dan, oh yes, fuck me, Dan, just like that, fill me up. Give me that cum. Oh, I want it so bad. Yes. That’s it, Dan, that’s it, that’s it. Give me that cum!”
But Dan stuck to his rhythm. He couldn’t save himself simply by resisting climax; he also needed to wow this supernatural sex diva in the process.
Focus on Holly, he thought. Focus on your first love.
Holly had taken on so many challenges for him, had volunteered for so many duties, had fought by his side and carried him through hard times again and again. She had never failed him, and he would not fail her now.
With these thoughts of his first wife, love armored his resolve afresh. Which helped him to resist climaxing immediately when the succubus queen groaned, “Give me your essence, Dan. Pump me full of that hot seed!”
Dan latched onto one word—hot—and filled his mind with the image of his little red fire prophetess, burning bright before her people. His body continued to work on the task at hand—pull out a few inches, push back in, grind the clit—but his mind stepped into thoughts of Thelia and ignited with his love for her.
Thelia, his poor little red elf, had gone through so much. He had married her at insistence of Holly, who had wanted him to earn a coveted third gift from Ahneena, whose spirit, along with countless other spirits, now burned within Thelia.
How strange and difficult that must be for his red elf wife, who had been transformed into the True Matriarch. No one had ever asked Thelia if she even wanted to become the True Matriarch. That enormous responsibility had been thrust upon her. But Thelia had done her best to lead her people.
Of all of his wives, she had been the most isolated. He longed to see her again, to talk with her and get to know her better.
He held on tightly to his love for Thelia, which bolstered his resolve when Illandria pushed his hips away, popping him free of her throbbing channel, and then shimmied down Dan’s body and took his hardness in her hot, wet mouth. All of his hardness—and more. She deep-throated him effortlessly and kept going, also sucking his swollen balls into her mouth.
It was impossible. It was monstrous. It was awesome.
Illandria moaned with pleasure as she sucked him. Her throat gripped his length tightly and began to undulate, trying to milk him as her mouth closed around his balls, pumping them with pulsing squeezes.
At the same time, he could feel her tongue working, too, or rather, what felt like many tongues. As her throat and mouth sucked and squeezed, numerous tongues pleasured every inch of his cock and balls, licking and lapping, flicking and fluttering, as if the tongues of a dozen succubi were at work within the mouth of their queen.
More sorcery, Dan thought, gritting his teeth against the strange yet incredible pleasure.
And more sorcery still revealed itself a second later, when, despite
having her mouth packed full of dick and balls, Illandria spoke, panting urgently, “Tease me no longer, barbarian. I can’t take it anymore. You’re so huge and strong. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I need your essence—now. Fill me. Fill me, barbarian. Fill me now!”
“Not yet,” he said, thinking of Zamora, who loved his seed so much. His heart smiled at the thought of his moody, horny sylph but then ached at the memory of how Zamora had looked the last time he had seen her, while she was recovering from wiping out his enemies. She had given him her all, pushed herself to her absolute limits for him, and he would do the same for her now.
Illandria’s mouth and throat tightened around his genitals like a fist, squeezing almost painfully. “No more games,” she growled. “I want that cum.”
“Not yet,” Dan repeated, and then he put it to her straight. “Not until you cum.”
Illandria’s laughter was the tinkling of a thousand wind chimes in a soft summer breeze. “Oh, I do like you, Dan. I’m going to make you my special pet.”
“Wrong,” he said. “I’m going to make you my special pet.”
She started to laugh again but gasped with surprise when he started fucking her face with short, firm thrusts, pressing at the bottom as if he were still fucking her hot slit and shoving against the back of her throat, grinding it like a clit.
Illandria was impossibly hot, supernaturally talented, and supremely confident, but she had made a fight of this, and if there was one thing Dan knew how to do, it was fight.
Framing their wild fucking and sucking in these terms, Dan bulled forward into the passionate battle, girded in his love for his wives and strengthened further by the women he still meant to love: Agatha, Tatiana, Petronia, Clarissa, Chloe, and Lily.
Especially Lily, whom he had promised to marry. He wanted Holly’s sister so badly and had to survive this fight if only to fulfill that promise to her—and to explore the sweet secrets of Lily’s love.
Banging Illandria’s mouth, he conjured thoughts of Lily. Her gorgeous, dirty face and wild, silver dreadlocks. Her eager kisses. Her unfettered laughter. And her sneering disdain for the ritualized bullshit that meant so much to her father and her grove.
In this way, through endless variations, focusing on his women, Dan filled himself with love—his love for them and their staggering, humbling, invigorating love for him, which became a talisman against the wiles and workings of the succubus queen, who otherwise would have finished him instantly, damning him to eternal servitude.
On and on through this moment outside of time, Dan pounded and ground, groped and licked, teased and resisted.
“What plane are you from? Tell me,” Illandria begged, sweating and shaking as she rode atop him, the very picture of lust-enflamed beauty.
“Not until you cum,” he said. “Then I’ll tell you—and I’ll fill you with my essence. But only then.”
“Oh, to Hades with it,” Illandria said. “Have it your way!”
A second later, she went rigid atop him, squeezing his chest muscles, puncturing the skin with her sharp claws. Her pupils dilated behind fluttering lashes. She whimpered, shuddering. Her beautiful, sensuous mouth slammed shut—then flew open again as she cried out in pleasure, “Oh, Dan! I’m cumming! DanohDanohDanohDan!”
As Illandria screamed, her entire body spasmed, bucking wildly. She threw back her head, and the veins stood out in her lovely blue neck. Her wings snapped open, beating the air. Her hips stopped grinding and pushed down into him, forcing every last fraction of his manhood into her sex, which pulsed around him and exploded with a gushing waterfall of hot juices.
“Dan!” she shrieked. “Cum inside me. Cum, oh cum, come now!”
He almost did. It was one hell of a show, and he’d wanted to pop since the second he’d first seen her.
But instead, he crossed his arms and arched his back, keeping himself buried deep inside her pulsing channel, and filled his mind with thoughts of home and harem.
Illandria’s obsidian eyes studied him intensely even as her voice and body tumbled through an Oscar-worthy imitation of an orgasm for the ages.
“Nice try,” Dan said, “but I’m not releasing until you really cum.”
She laughed.
He pulled her down into his embrace and kissed her passionately. “I want you,” he said, channeling the love burning within him. “I want the real you.”
Illandria’s eyes widened, and she laughed uncertainly.
Dan rolled her onto her back again. Entering her, he took Illandria’s beautiful face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes. Then he started moving against her in a slow, steady rhythm.
“Just this once,” he said, speaking to her as he might talk to one of his wives, “open up, and experience something new. I am not your prey. I’m your partner. Let yourself go. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Let yourself go and see how it feels to embrace an equal. Just this once, submit to pleasure. Just this once, make love.”
And Illandria changed.
Not physically—she remained the wickedly beautiful, blue-skinned demoness—but her eyes, her mouth, her trembling, her words… everything shifted, and Dan understood that he had finally broken through her supernatural defense and was now making love to the real woman within this succubus queen.
And he was making love, holding her in his arms as he moved, taking his time, kissing her and talking to her, filling his heart and mind not only with the love he shared with his wives but also with tenderness and compassion for the woman beneath him. Because it dawned fully upon him then what a long, lonely existence she must have endured.
Illandria wept.
Dan kissed away her tears and spoke softly, telling her about his life and his loves—not just his love for his wives but also his love for this place that she had created, the Wildervast, and how he was ready to live his entire life here and willing to give that same life in defense of this wild, untamed, and beautiful land.
Dan listened as Illandria spoke, telling of the long, long life she had led. He comforted her as, right before his very eyes, she came to terms with the painful truth of the hellish millennia she had lived.
How ironic that she, the mighty succubus queen, who had conquered millions of men, breaking them effortlessly; she, the most powerful sexual force in the entire world, had celebrated conquest after conquest, enslaving every man with whom she had coupled, claiming victory after countless victory—and yet, hers had been a life of sex without love, companionship, or even empathy, a veritable eternity of using her body to conquer victims but never knowing the pleasure of moving in harmony with an equal. She had never once surrendered to the blissful oblivion of lovemaking—until now.
They lost track of time, and time lost track of them.
Lovemaking bound them and yet became secondary to that bond, a very real intertwining of their essences, until he felt her power, and she felt his love. Their coupling was no longer a fight, and Dan no longer needed to dig deep for superhuman stamina.
Now, stamina was a given. He thrummed with sexual prowess, and yet he noted this incredible change with little excitement, so focused was he on the well-being of the woman beneath him.
For it was a far easier thing for Dan to receive a flood of power than it was for Illandria to receive the full force of the emotional torrent that roared out of this passionate barbarian and flooded the emptiness of her own heart.
She struggled beneath him, writhing as she felt the incredible power of love. For the first time, she comprehended the full extent of her power. Now, at long last, she understood how she had conquered so many.
With this understanding came sympathy. Empathy followed after. And this empathy acted as a prism, focusing the incredible power of these emotions, piercing her heart, filling her with love for this man, who had fought not just against her but for her, freeing her from the ancient curse of isolation.
Compassion, love, empathy, the bliss of sharing her strength with another, and the unparalleled
joy of finally escaping an isolated eternity of enslaving others—all these things rushed together in that moment, and Dan, now infused with her power, bore down, flooding her with an overwhelming rush of physical ecstasy—and Illandria finally surrendered, exploding with orgasm, the first real orgasm she had ever experienced in an eternity of sex.
Again and again and again she climaxed, passing in and out of consciousness as her cries of pleasure split the air and the ground shook beneath them.
Overcome with happiness for Illandria, Dan finally released, shaking the Wildervast with a savage thunderclap as he erupted with climax. Their bodies and minds, hearts and spirits danced together in an interwoven convulsion of cosmic ecstasy, and he flooded her with wave after wave of hot seed.
She sucked every drop of his essence deep inside her, where it sealed the bond between them and gave birth to a wonder that she never in all her many, many years would dared to have believed possible.
Dan had given her everything, not only his essence, his love, and her freedom but also a fragment of his true, eternal self. This spiritual pregnancy had taken, and now, for the first time since she had been cursed one hundred thousand years ago, Illandria felt a light shining at the center of her being.
A soul.
She had a soul again.
Dan knew all of this—no, more than knew; felt all of this—because in the moment of their release, they bonded irrevocably and wholly, and he could feel a piece of his soul beating within her like a newborn heart.
When Illandria’s long lashes fluttered and her eyes opened, they were no longer spheres of blackness but cloud-blue orbs with shining irises of bright sapphire that stared up at Dan in rapture and awe, gratitude and love.
“Thank you, Dan,” she panted. “Thank you so much.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead softly.
“You freed me,” Illandria said, weeping tears of joy. “You freed me with your love and your soul. Now and forevermore, I am yours… Master.”
