The Incubus Chronicles #1
ENSLAVED by the Incubus
by Fiona
© 2014
The Incubus Chronicles are short excursions into Heaven by way of Hell. The Incubi were created to feed on human females and, having excellent taste, they do not discriminate. They want what they want. Any woman may be chosen, at any time. You may be next.
Tonight’s Heroine:
Amy
Something needs to happen. Now.
Amy was rapidly losing her mind. It had been two years since the divorce.
During that time she’d been with a lawyer, a banker, and a twenty-something boy toy. Only the last one had been worth the time invested and even he had fallen short of her modest expectations. They were all caught up in themselves, immature, insincere and wholly inadequate.
Fuck men, she thought. She didn’t need them. Other than to satisfy the constant ache between her thighs.
I am my own worst enemy.
It was a Thursday morning in March. The kids were at school, she wasn’t due to cover at the hospital until Monday, and there was nothing to do but shop for a week’s groceries. A Sunday afternoon trip to the store would have been preferable. It was a mad house on Sunday and all the fresh produce was always gone, but that’s when the college boys came out to do their week’s shopping for frozen pizza, pretzels, canned ravioli, and beer. If she was lucky there would at least be some eye candy. On a Thursday morning, eye candy wasn’t going to be had.
Amy sighed.
Inside the store Amy walked up and down the aisles like a zombie, bored, completely without emotion. She was buying the same things to cook the same dinners to live the same week. Again.
At last she encountered some variety: they were out of her shampoo. Well, not quite. It seemed there was only one bottle left, hidden away toward the back of the top shelf. If she stood far enough back she could see it, but she wasn’t going to be able to reach it. Amy wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall, either. So she looked for someone to help, only to see that there was no one around. Anywhere.
“Really?” she asked, aloud.
There was nothing to do but climb for it. Amy tested the lowest shelf and when it held her, she started climbing. She reached the top with relative ease and seized the bottle. Then she immediately fell backwards.
Please just be embarrassing and not painful…
But she didn’t crash. A pair of firm, strong hands like she’d never felt caught her by the waist. She landed safely with her back against a solid male chest that felt like it was made of steel. Warm steel. And his scent…it was heavenly. A moment later and Amy’s unseen hero had lowered her gently to the ground. She turned to see a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, Mediterranean male smiling at her. Was he Spanish? Italian? Whatever he was, he was perfect.…
“Thanks,” Amy said quickly, trying to hide her disappointment at being released.
“Anytime.”
His eyes looked into her. His smile was warm, sexy and captivating. It was as if he knew what he was doing to her and he was quite experienced at it.
Then he was gone.
As quickly as he had appeared, he was on his way, gone from the aisle. Amy was left with her head spinning, wondering whether her precious encounter had even happened. Somehow she had to finish shopping. Oh, well – that one little incident would leave her high for the remainder of the day, or maybe the rest of the week. She could always go into cougar mode, get one the college boys here over the weekend and take every ounce of this morning’s desire out on him. Barring that it would be some toys or her fingers, and those were never bad options since they came without the maintenance men required.
Twenty minutes later Amy had made it back to the parking lot. She was placing a bag inside the hatch of her crossover when the bottom ripped out, sending groceries under the car and across the parking lot.
“Shit!”
“Let me help,” said a voice nearby. She wasn’t sure where it had come from.
It was him.
Now he was crouching down beside her, handing her the same bottle of shampoo she had gone climbing for when she fell.
“Uh…”
“Hello again,” he said, ignoring her nerves and in complete control of the situation. He helped her up and began placing things back in her car.
“Hi,” Amy managed. “Thank you. You must think I’m a mess.”
“Not at all. Selfishly, I’m enjoying it. Any excuse to help out a beautiful woman is good thing.”
She blushed and dropped her gaze, but only for a moment. She was enthralled and couldn’t pretend otherwise.
“Are you always this straight forward?”
“Yes,” was all he said.
That’s when it happened. He leaned forward and kissed her, deeply, longingly, in the middle of the parking lot. He made it seem completely normal, as if to say, what else would we be doing in a grocery store parking lot at 10 A.M. on a Thursday morning?
‘Thank you,” he said when it ended all too soon. He was leaving again.
“Wait!” Amy half-commanded, half-pleaded. Her desperation was showing. He stopped and looked, indulging her as she tried to find words.
“It’s just…things like this don’t happen to me. You leaving feels wrong.”
She knew she was ruining it, the spontaneity of it all, the beauty of the no strings attached encounter. But that didn’t bother him in the least.
“I’ll be around. Come find me.” He smiled devilishly then walked off.
Amy tried to watch him leave. She wanted to see what he drove, where he went. He could have fit perfectly into a Lamborghini Aventador or a Ford F150, neither would surprise her. But look as hard as she might, he was already gone. It was like he had vanished.
Amy stopped and leaned back against her crossover. Her head was spinning and her heart racing. It took some time before she settled down.
What the hell just happened to me?
Amy was a basket case the remainder of the day. A glorious, happy, sexed-up basket case. Nothing bothered her. She was a little spacey at times, daydreaming of a man whose name she didn’t even know (how did she let that happen?), but she catered to her kids’ every need, took them out to their favorite restaurant for dinner, then read extra long to them at bed.
Once they were asleep, the night was hers.
Amy broke out a bottle of champagne for one, and drank it awash in fantasy endings to the morning’s encounter. Even when she focused on what had actually happened, with all the unresolved business, every second of frustration and sexual tension felt great. She finished the bottle in a bubble bath, after which she air-dried before climbing under the sheets. Her fingers explored her recesses knowingly and she came quickly and freely with his imagined, smiling face looking down from atop her.
Sleep came easily, as if she had been drugged.
She had.
What came next felt like it was real.
Amy opened her eyes and did not immediately understand what she was seeing. She was looking at herself, stretched out on a stone floor, basking in flickering fire light. Amy could feel the hard, warm stone beneath her bare shoulders and back. She was looking up at her reflection in mirrors that lined the ceiling.
Where am I?
That was important to know if she was to ever get home, but she quickly realized the real question: Why am I here?
She was nude except for a thin, silk bikini that offered minimal protection to her breasts and womanhood. Her lips and nails had been painted blood red, a color that suited her more than she had ever realized. The exposed flesh of her waist and the tops of her breasts were pain
ted with archaic runes, some kind of symbols Amy couldn’t understand.
Someone had done this to her. Someone had taken her from her bedroom, painted her, and left her waiting for…whom? Or what?
For a woman who had been kidnapped, Amy was more intrigued than fearful. She was dressed as a thing of desire. No, more than that: she was a male fantasy. But who was it that she was to entice and provoke? Amy intended to find out, and was not about to wait. She was going to learn her fate on her terms.
She stood up and looked and listened. There was fire everywhere. It was the only source of light. Its heat burned her skin and kept her glistening in its light. This place was otherworldly, something out of a fantasy novel. Or perhaps it was Hell, although she didn’t hear any screaming. Quite the opposite, it was eerily quiet, with nothing to be heard but the crackling of the flames and her soft footsteps. But the illustrations on the walls were graphic depictions of human women and men being taken by strange and terrible creatures.
“Is this why I’m here?” she asked.
Part of her wanted to say Bring it. She would show whoever had taken her what she was made out of. But she didn’t understand what she was feeling. So many emotions, all jumbled together. Fear and outrage at being kidnapped. Confusion. Intrigue over who has taken her. And – she couldn’t deny it – arousal. Seeking her captor, and possibly being hunted at the same time, was turning her on. If nothing else, she hadn’t had a night like this…ever.
Amy ran off, barefoot, to explore her prison. It was one great romantic, mixed message – rooms that were clearly dungeons, geared at pain and pleasure, in that order, but radiating luxury and decadence. She wandered and wandered, becoming so frustrated that she wanted to shout out to whoever was there. But just then stealth was her only friend, so she bit her blood-red lower lip and remained silent.
She was actually growing tired of it all when she rounded a corner and entered a long marble hallway, only to find herself in the path of a twenty-foot long king cobra. She froze. The monster saw her and reared up. He kept her paralyzed with his cold gaze that seemed to look directly into her. Then he let out a long, malevolent hiss.
Amy did not hesitate. She ran.
She could hear the snake following but was too frightened to look back. She was the one being hunted. If Amy wanted to survive, she would need to keep her wits about her. As she ran, the paths before her made no sense. It was if they came into being as she perceived them, and they were designed to disorient her, slow her down. She was being teased and tormented even as the giant serpent came for her. She could not backtrack the way she had come, because the way she had come was no longer there, as if it had never existed. Obstacles were present, mercifully, but they only delayed the monster at best. Amy closed and bolted massive oak doors, never having time to check what else was in the room with her, or whether there was another way out. None of the rooms had any windows, but they all had secret passageways that she was compelled to enter as she discovered them. She was being driven into greater and greater danger.
What are you going to do to me?
A hidden tunnel dropped her onto the shore of an underground river. Steam was pouring off the water – if it even was water. Amy did not dare swim in it, for fear of being burned, dissolved, eaten, or falling prey to some horrible combination of those fates. She was left with one path before her. That path led into a maze of stone walls. She ran inside, thinking she already knew how this was going to end.
The serpent was in the maze with her now, she was sure of it, just as she was sure it knew where each path led and where he was going to corner her. With each dead end, Amy had to turn and run back, trying to get to the mouth of another path before the serpent trapped her. Several times she almost came to face to face with it and had to sprint, gasping in the hellish, fiery air, to put distance between herself and its coils. Finally she reached a set of stairs that went up several levels into a long hall. There she reached a dead end from which she could not escape. It was time for her to meet her fate.
Get on with it already!
The snake crested the top of the stairs and moved to within ten feet of her. It reared up, terrifying her. She was pressed against the wall, in a state of helpless submission, but had enough sense to realize that she would have to prepare to engage it if she wanted to live. Amy moved toward it and crouched, preparing for its strike. The monster hissed. Then it lunged for her throat. Amy caught the snake by its neck, just below the head, but the force of the leap took her to the ground, leaving her on her back with the snake’s body running between her breasts, over her bare belly and between her spread legs. That was all the snake needed. It quickly wrapped itself about her divine body, pinning her arms, crushing her breasts and stomach, and staking its claim between her legs. In a matter of seconds she was fully bound.
The serpent toyed with her sadistically. It ran its body back and forth across her breasts, tearing away the frail silk bikini top and stiffening her nipples. It ran its scutes between her legs and across her clit, squeezing her into submission as she kicked helplessly from the stimulation. She belonged to it, a fact that it drilled home by cocking its head, fanning its hood, and staring into her captive eyes, as if to say, I have you.
Amy’s bondage to the reptile lasted for what seemed an eternity as it mapped and explored her womanly curves and recesses. Then, without warning, the cobra reared up. She looked at it in terror, convinced it was going to kill her. Instead it…changed. Amy thought it might have been loss of blood to the brain causing her to hallucinate, but this whole experience was otherworldly. She knew better than to write it off.
The snake released its grip – not because it was letting her go, but because it was changing the form in which it intended to have her. Before her very eyes, the snake morphed from king cobra into an erect, naked, human male. Well, almost human. His muscles were dense and cut, knotted around a six-foot plus frame. His abs were fully defined and his traps and shoulders started a perfect V-shaped upper body. His legs looked strong enough to move a mountain. He was standing over her as she lay on the stone, his intent clear.
It’s you.
Before her stood her dream lover from the store. Only this was no dream. And perfect as he was, his magnificent, erect shaft was not human. Its length and width would dominate any human woman, and its head and underside were barbed. It would cause Amy exquisite pleasure and pain that could not be unentwined. Amy wanted him. But she was terrified.
Amy slid back from his shadow, turned and ran up to the stone wall barring her escape. Her sweet, round ass cheeks and the bare backs of her legs caused his rod to throb even harder. She pounded her fists against the wall, futilely resisting her capture even as the demon’s hands seized her hips.
Help! her lips cried, silently. A spell had been cast, silencing her cry, holding her captive. Yet who would help her, even if they could hear her? The truth was, Amy didn’t want to be helped. She wanted to be taken like no man had ever taken her before. Her silent wish was about to come true.
The demon brought her to her hands and knees. He mounted her from behind, thrusting easily into her wet and willing vagina. She moaned in divine pain, the spell lifted, her passion audible in the burning air. His thrusts were masterful, rhythmic, as his rod dominated her being, driving her further and further out of her mind as she danced on the edge of unconsciousness. The sex was raw, more animal-like than anything she ever experienced. She felt the first orgasm building deep, deep within her. It was a wave the demon was creating, skillfully, through his absolute control of his mate. Simply by touching her, by entering her, he knew Amy’s body intimately. He knew its desires and its limits. He was manipulating them, pushing his prize past her very boundaries. The waves overtook her as she collapsed into a blinding orgasm.
For a while she lay there on her belly, desperately holding onto her captor’s muscled arm that circled her bare waist, feeling the wonderful weight of his body against her back. Eyes closed, she listened to her heavy bre
athing against the warm stone floor. Amy was exhausted and fulfilled. Yet at the same time she knew she needed more. She needed him, again and again and again. Suddenly she felt him withdraw, pain shooting through her as the barbed head of his cock clawed her walls and folds.
Oh, to feel that against my clit.
Without warning, the demon stood erect, lifting her effortlessly. He pinned her against the wall, facing him. His strength was amazing, unstoppable. Amy wrapped her legs around his waist, partly to hold him close, partly to yield to his further desires. Her thighs were screaming.
They locked gazes.
“Hello again,” she said.
He smiled. Then he kissed her deeply and lovingly. She gazed into his dark but warm eyes again, love-struck.
“What’s happening to me?”
“I’ve kidnapped you.”
“Why?”
“I want you,” he answered simply. “Now I have you.”
“Who are you?”
“I am an Incubus. I was created to master women.”
Amy had heard of Incubi, but never thought they were real. All she knew was that this one was damned good at his job.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“My human name is Torre.”
“Hi. I’m Amy,” she panted.
He smiled.
“Hello Amy. I’ve known about you for a while. Now you are with me.”
She felt his steel cock pressing against her willing ass cheeks. Just like that, he was ready again and so was she. Anus or vagina, she didn’t care, just so long as he pushed back inside her. He slid the sharp head of his cock across her clit and she cried out. Then he entered her again, using Amy’s own body weight to torture her as it forced her down on his unyielding shaft. Her eyes went wide as she gasped.
“You’ve got me,” she pleaded.
Enslaved by the Incubus (The Incubus Chronicles) Page 1
