First part of the saga of a demon determined to rise to power through conquest and lust
Fires flare on the barren, rocky fields of Hell, the stench of brimstone thick as the sulfurous clouds which occasionally rained acid. Used to such, Damien stalks across a blood-soaked battlefield, his eyes burning with determination. An elite blood demon soldier, his deep red skin blended into the terrain, broken up by his black leather uniform. He had been tracking his enemy, the demon commander Elagibborim, for days. Elagibborim's distinctive grey skin, long, whip-like demon tail, and hooves that clicked against the ground as he moved made him easy to spot from a distance, and Damien had used an ambush to isolate him from his allies and servants then hunted him through the bloody fields of Hell. They were fighting for control over their demon forces and the territory they had claimed as their own. The stakes could not have been higher.
Elagibborim desperately fled the site of the ambush, hoping to make it back to where his elite troops were camped near his fortress. Damien knew he would, though, and cut him off at every turn. Finally, he cornered Elagibborim in a defile at the end of a canyon. Tired of the chase, the two demons circle each other warily. Their sword hilts gripped tightly in their hands, they taunt and mock each other, eager for the fight to begin and their conflict to end once and for all. Elagibborim in particular calls out Damien's obvious lower status, calling him "baby red", for though Damien had the bright red skin and horns that marked him a blood demon, he had yet to earn his wings or hellfire halo. Elagibborim, meanwhile, clacked his hooves and swished his tail, marking his higher lasher demon rank. Damien wasn't impressed, however; Elagibborim had always been more manipulator than a fighter. The battlefields they had crossed in the chase was littered with the bodies of fallen demons of all kinds, adding to the thick, coppery smell of blood that mingled with the brimstone which hung in the air, and Damien was sure that once combat was joined his enemy would join them.
With a savage cry, Damien lunges forward, sword aimed at Elagibborim's heart. The grey-skinned demon commander dodges nimbly to the side, his own sword slashing through the air where Damien had been moments before. The two demons dance around each other, their netheranium blades clashing with a deafening roar and showers of sparks. Sweat and dust flies through the air as they fight, their bodies straining with their demonic strength.
Time seems to slow down as they continue to circle, testing each other's defenses, their gazes locked in as deadly embrace as their blades. The ground shakes beneath them, Hell's psychoactive terrain reacting to their violence and hate, the aftershocks of their previous blows rippling through the earth. Suddenly, taking advantage of a particularly severe shake, a series of attacks by Damien throws his foe back, barely able to block the insistent attack. Elagibborim's sword finally slips from his grip, clattering to the ground. Damien lunges forward, his sword raised high, intent on delivering the deathblow. But Elagibborim is faster; with a flick of his wrist, he magically sends his sword spinning through the air, aimed directly at Damien's head.
Damien ducks just in time, the sword barely missing his horns. As he regains his footing, he sees Elagibborim has already drawn another smaller sword from his belt, his demon tail whipping back and forth in anticipation. The two demons return to circling each other once more, the metallic ring of their blades echoing as they each probe for openings in the other's defenses, grunting and growling and howling their loathing for each other.
Damien, though, closely examines his opponent's features, his stance, his breath; he sees him panting, unused to such personal combat. Damien knows the longer this goes the more the physical advantage will swing to him. Of course, it also opens the door for his foe to conjure some great trickery or magic to foil him and snatch victory. Damien knows he has to make sure that does not happen; he has to keep him occupied mentally as well as physically.
With a mocking laugh and a taunting grin, Damien feigns a lunge forward, only to leap back at the last moment. Damien's evident disdain causes Elagibborim to over play his reaction, a wild parry, and he is instantly overbalanced. Damien lunges again, this time landing a solid hit on his enemy's shoulder. Elagibborim cries out in pain and rage, his sword arm losing strength. Seeing his advantage, Damien presses forward, landing blow after blow on Elagibborim's body. Blood spurts from the wounds, painting Damien's claws and armor red. When some spatters across his face, Damien smiles and licks his lips.
Elagibborim is far from defeated, however, and the battle rages on as he falls back into a full defense. Still, Damien begins to sense that his enemy is tiring. With each parry and thrust, he presses the advantage, trying to finish Elagibborim off before he can gather enough strength to mount a counterattack. But the grey-skinned demon commander is cunning, using his demonic agility and occasional whips from his tail to avoid fatal blows and keep Damien at bay.
Trying to secure a better position, Elagibborim sidesteps down the defile and into a shallow creek, its foul water soon reddened by the blood that flows from their wounds. The mud beneath their feet sucks at Damien's boots and Elagibborim's hooves, slowing them down momentarily as they struggle for purchase. Damien growls, his muscles burning with exhaustion, but he refuses to give in. He knows that if he lets Elagibborim live, the grey-skinned demon will simply hole up in his fortress and gather an army, coming back stronger than ever.
With a surge of strength, Damien leaps forward, his sword aimed at Elagibborim's throat. But once again the grey-skinned demon commander rolls to the side just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. Damien lands awkwardly, his leg twisting under him. As he struggles to regain his footing, Elagibborim springs forward, his sword aimed at Damien's chest. Damien raises his sword in a futile attempt to block, and although he manages to stop it from piercing his chest, he can feel the hot blade bite into the flesh of his shoulder instead as his own sword falls into the water.
Pain explodes through him as Elagibborim twists his blade, widening the wound. Damien gasps for breath, his vision beginning to darken. However, he lunges forward, jamming the blade further into his body, then yanks backward. Elagibborim's sword, stuck in Damien’s collar bone, is pulled from Elagibborim’s hand as Damien staggers back. Thus disarmed, the grey-skinned demon is left with nothing but his claws to fight.
Damien's blood flows freely, pooling around his feet, but he refuses to give up now that he had an advantage of his own. Certainly his foe has lost as much blood, if not more. With a growl of rage, he charges Elagibborim, his claws extended. The two demons clash once more, their bodies slamming into each other, then the ground. They roll across the muddy creek bed, their claws raking across the earth and each other's flesh. The air fills with the stench of their blood and the cries of their pain as they fight desperately for their lives.
Finally, Damien twists Elagibborim under him, slamming his head against the bank. Elagibborim, however, manages to dig one of his claws into Damien's shoulder wound, trying to tear into his body. Damien hisses in pain as the demon commander's wicked claw digs into his raw wounded flesh. He grunts, but refuses to let Elagibborim go. Instead, he tightens his grip on him, digging in his own claws into the grey-skinned hide, and trying to keep him pinned under his own weight. The grey demon struggles futilely to shake him off, but his strength has badly waned as their struggle takes its toll.
Bit by bit, Damien inexorably forces Elagibborim's claw back, first out of his flesh, then bending it further and further, until he can almost rip it from the demon's own hand. Elagibborim screams in pain and rage, his eyes bulging from their sockets. Damien smiles grimly, feeling the victory within his grasp. He twists his body, bending Elagibborim's arms back and grinding the grey-skinned demon into the muddy ground with his claws.
Elagibborim tries to whip himself back and forth wildly, sensing the end, but it's futile. His strength is spent, his body broken. Damien leans forward, his breath hot and ragged against the demon's ear. "You thought you could defeat me, Elagibborim?" he growled. "You thought you could lead your pathetic horde against us? You were a fool."
With a savage snarl, Damien raises his claw, aiming it at the grey-skinned demon's groin. Elagibborim screams in terror, flailing his arms and legs with the utter last of his strength, but it was too late. There was nowhere for him to escape. With a single, swift movement, Damien slashed his claw downward. There was a wet, tearing sound as flesh and skin gave way, and Elagibborim's screams echoed through the forest.
Damien feels a surge of power course through him as he watches Elagibborim's life ebb away. He knows that without his testicles, the demon would not only be incapable of siring another generation of monsters, but virtually no demons would remain loyal even to his memory. He looks down as the grey-skinned commander lays twitching on the ground, blood pooling around his ruined groin. Damien raises his claws above his head in triumph, his muscles bulging with new power. Then he further mutilates the corpse, leaving him virtually unrecognizable and incalculably mangled, assuring that if his enemy had had any necromancers in his service that they would have their work cut out for them.
Taking only a short rest to bind his major wounds, Damien returns to his men, and then they march towards where Elagibborim's elite personal guard were encamped. As the members of the hostile demon horde watch in horror, Damien walks confidently toward them, his claws dripping with Elagibborim's blood. "You see what happens to those who challenge us?" he roars, his voice echoing through the camp. His eyes search out any who would dare challenge his gaze. Then he drops the ruined organs of Elagibborim onto the mud for all to see before crushing them underfoot. "Your leader is dead, and you will all follow him into oblivion! Unless you submit to ME."
There is a moment of silence, as the surviving soldiers of Elagibborim look upon Damien with fear and respect. Then, one by one, they begin to kneel before him, their claws raised in submission. Their leader had failed them, but they saw in Damien a new champion, one who could unite them and lead them to glory. As each demon kneels, Damien accepts their pledge of loyalty, pressing his claws into their shoulders as a symbol of his dominance.
Setting his lieutenants and his clerk to manage the integration of his erstwhile foe's forces into his own, he marches towards Elagibborim's stronghold. Deep in its pits, he knew, was a prize he was looking forward to claiming.
********************************************
“Greetings Lillith.”
“I know that...that voice. Damien? Damien!” she gasps, the voice a hollow echo emerging from a rusted grate. “You're real! I mean, you're not one of my hallucinations, are you? You're looking so handsome!”
Damien kneels closer to the rusted grate in the floor covering the opening to the punishment pit. “I am not a hallucination, Lillith. I have defeated Elagibborim and been promoted to Commanding-Dominant.”
“Oh, congratulations! That's... amazing. To defeat such a foe, and be promoted so quickly in Hell's army. I've been trapped in these pits so long. You must have seen so much. Tell me, what's it like out there? And in the worlds beyond our realm.”
“There are many pleasures out there, and the mortals are soft and easy to destroy for a demon like me. I am on the cusp of such a quest.”
“Oh, that does sound tempting. I've always been curious about those legends of demons and monsters terrorizing mortal lands. But you know, I've never been much of a fighter. My charms usually do all the work; or they did, until Elagibborim decided I had betrayed him and trapped me down here. Do you think there's a place for someone like me in your adventures? Is...is that why you’re here?” The desperate, fragile ember of hope in the last question would be heartbreaking, if the demons of Hell had hearts to break.
“Oh yes. I remember your skills, Lillith, from when I was new, so long ago. Your ability. Softening them up, or turning them to us, before destroying them can be fun and profitable, I've discovered. And to continue my rise, I will need more than my brute force. Would you like to come with me?”
Down in the pit which had been Lillith’s entire existence for longer than she could know, the trapped succubus’s breath catches. “Oh, Damien, I'd love to! My chance to see the world beyond these awful, smelly catacombs. But... how do I get out? I don't have any money or belongings. I have nothing to buy my pardon with. And dead or not, a sentence in hell isn’t lightly thrown off even if the demon that imposed it is dead.”
Damien smiles. “That you were sentenced by my now-vanquished enemy is enough to make me an interested party in your case. If you do me a favor, I could make you one of my spoils of conquest, your fate mine to decide.”
“Oh, I'd be honored, Commanding-Dominant Damien. What sort of favor do you have in mind?” A hint of sultry timbre crept into her voice, clearly long unused but not forgotten.
“Come now, lets not be coy." He hoped she was being coy. Enough time in the punishment pits had broken many a mind, along with wills, to say nothing of bodies. "What are your best talents as a succubus?”
“Well, I can manipulate emotions and read people's minds to some extent. They don't like it when I do that here, though. Those are my main abilities. I'm very charming and seductive, of course. Before…before this, anyway. Once, I was welcomed nearly everywhere by everyone.”
“You were. I remember. The crown jewel of your succubus clan. That is why I am bothering with this. Would you be willing to serve me behind the scenes of power in the courts of hell? On the field of battle, to winnow away the enemy will to fight? And, of course, in bed as well.”
“I am…I fear I am long out of practice," she says, but the offer seems to have focused her, her voice now sounding less wavering. "My skills in the boudoir and elsewhere have certainly atrophied. But I'd be happy to serve you in any way I can. Just tell me how to make you happy, and I'll do my best, Commanding-Dominant.”
“Then I would like to have lots of fun with you in my bed. Help you reclaim what you lost. I will teach you anything you need to know, if you are willing. Or at least make sure you have someone to teach you. But only if you are willing. I am not interested in reluctance, or half-measures. You prove yourself as a succubus first-hand to me, with me, directly.”
“I... I'd be honored to serve you in that way, Commanding-Dominant. I'm sure we could both learn a lot from each other. Just show me what to do, and I'll be your most loyal servant.” The sultriness crept back into her voice, slowly, as if remembering what it was supposed to be.
“I am very happy to hear you say that, Lillith.” Damien stands up.
The jailer, who had been watching him nervously, doubtless fearful that whatever Damien uncovered from this prisoner would land the jailer himself in a punishment pit in her place, makes an unlocking motion and looks at him expectantly. Damien nods, and points at the grate in the floor. The jailer leaps forward, pulling a key that seemed the worse for wear from an enormous ring filled completely by similar keys. The jailer kneels, and unlocks the grate. As soon as he does, a beam of red light emanates from the hole, and flames flare upward. A high-pitched metal on metal grinding begins to sound, and a cylindrical metal frame begins to rise out of the opening. Locked within an intricate lattice of worn metal, chains, and sharp edges, a succubus can indeed be seen. Here and there she is bruised, or her skin split, or charred. She is covered in filth of all kinds. Her eyes are glassy at first, but finally manage to focus on one thing. “D-damien.” She says it in a sibilant whisper, like a breath held in but finally released.
“Welcome back, Lillith.” Damien turns to the jailer. “Clean her up, patch her up, then have her brought to me. I will be waiting outside in the courtyard.”
The being that emerged from the doors of the fortress hardly resembled the wretched prisoner he had seen in the frame from the punishment pit.
Healed and restored, Lillith has been returned to a hint of her former glory, Still, she is a striking succubus with long flowing raven hair from which emerge two black horns, piercing emerald eyes, and a curvaceous figure that's accentuated by her voluptuous breasts and long, sinuous tail. Her pale blue skin is etched with delicate black markings, hinting at her dark origins in the succubi clans. She is wearing a skin-tight black corset that hugs her curves, accentuating her ample cleavage. A pair of black silk panties, decorated with intricate lace, hug her firm ass and end in a delicate bow at the center of her sex. Shiny black boots with silver buckles rise all the way up to her luscious thighs. A pair of black leather cuffs, each adorned with a small silver bell, dangle from her wrists, swaying gently as she moves. She walks up to Damien and strikes a pose.
“Much better." he declares. "This is the Lillith I remember. Would you like to have a drink first, or go to my quarters straight away?” he asks.
She smiles shyly. “I... I'm a bit nervous, but... maybe a drink first? It'll help me relax a bit, won't it? To be honest, all this still doesn’t feel real yet.”
“Yes, a drink would help us relax together. Let’s go.”
Assuring the takeover of the stronghold is going according to plan, Damien takes Lillith through its gatehouse and onto the burning gravel road that leads from the fortress into the hellcity of Par Dis; Damien contemplated taking a litter into the city, but his men and resources were still thin as they had other tasks. They were close anyway, and it gave Lillith time to acclimate somewhat to being out again.
The walk was accomplished in more or less amiable silence as Lillith took in the sights of Hell around her, such as they were and what there was of them. Soon enough they were at the ramshackle outskirts of Par Dis, and they walked straight through its outlying areas into its extensive Temptations District.
The demonic tavern Damien led Lillith to was alive with the sound of clinking tankards and howling laughter as the denizens of the underworld reveled in the aftermath of yet another glorious battle. A new victor had been crowned, a new demon commander promoted to greater power: Damien, the cunning and ruthless leader of a horde built on conquest and lust. And now here he was, with a remarkable companion in tow. Some cheered, others merely watched, but all took note.
As they made their way through the bustling tavern, heads turned to watch them pass. Demons of every shape and size regarded them with a mix of awe, envy, and lust, recognizing the power that Damien now bore. The pair settled into a booth near the back, away from the more rowdy elements of the tavern, and a serving girl materialized at their table, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She curtseyed low, presenting Damien with a tray of exquisite liquors and delicacies. Damien waves her away, barely giving her a look; she looks up, surprised, but quickly scurries off.
“So Lillith, what do you think? What do you see in this tavern?”
Lillith looks at Damien, trying to gauge the question, then sweeps her eyes around the tavern. “The demons here are glad you won. Glad you’re more powerful. They’re on your side. You’ve made this part of the city a powerbase for yourself, and now you have a fortress nearby where you’re secure to operate from.” Damien nodded and motioned for her to go on; she frowns, trying to think it all through, long disused instincts and skill coming back to life. “Your enemies will try to infiltrate the fortress, but they will start here, or places like this. Get in with your flunkies, then from there seek to make it to your actual servants or soldiers.”
Damien smiles. “Bravo. We shall hone that keen mind back to razor sharpness. The only bit you missed is that you’ve now been seen free, in my presence, in my place of power. You’ll be assumed to be my agent anywhere in Hell before the hour is out.”
Lillith looks around, knowing that eyes she couldn’t see would be spreading that news now that Damin pointed it out. “So I take it you didn’t free me to be a covert agent in other courts.”
Damien chuckles. “Hardly. But how well you serve will ultimately determine what actual role you will play.” He looks down at her with a penetrating stare, and she can’t help but squirm in her seat after a moment. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he continues. “Let’s go ahead and start with a drink, and go from there.”
“In that case, Damien, I shall begin as your drink server, since you sent the actual drink wench away. What should I get us to drink? I'm not very familiar with recent beverages; other than the healing elixirs you had them give me, I’ve only had fetid liquid that could only barely be called water and the occasional punishment of sewage to drink for longer than I can fathom.”
“Lets keep it simple, and have two ales, hold the sewage,” he says with a smile, leaning back in the booth.
Lillith grins in return. “Alright, two ales it is.” She shoots him a wink for good measure. “Just let me know if you want anything else while I'm at the bar.”
She weaves through the crowd of demons, her hips swaying enticingly, and makes her way to the bar. The bartender, a hulking figure with the head of a demonic boar, grins at her when she approaches. "What can I get for you, sweetness?" he asks in a deep, gravelly voice.
Lillith smiles back at him, batting her eyelashes. "Two ales, please. And... if you could keep an eye on my new friend over there... make sure no one bothers us?" She gestures discreetly toward Damien, who's watching her with interest from their table. The bartender chuckles and nods before turning to grab the drinks.
While she waits for the ales, Lillith leans against the bar, her body language inviting the bartender's attention. She begins to chat with him casually, asking about his life in Hell and what he thinks of Damien. The bartender brags about knowing everything happening in the Temptations District, clearly trying to impress her, but surprisingly enough does seems to know a lot about Damien's exploits; he's obviously been a follower for a while. While the bartender seems fairly unremarkable, if he's to be believed Damien himself has had quite a list of recent successes, executed ruthlessly in a veritable frenzy of blood. Just how Hell liked it.
Lillith thanks the bartender and carries the ales back to Damien, feeling more confident and relaxed than before. She sits down across from him, clinking their mugs together in a toast. "To our new adventures together!" she says, taking a sip of her ale. The taste is bitter, but not unpleasant. It goes down smoothly.
"To our new adventures," Damien says, taking a long drink from his mug and smiling at Lillith.
Lillith responds in kind, taking a pull from her own ale. She can't tell if the bartender gave them his best because it is Damien, or if after so long any ale would taste so good, but she basks in the taste of the strong drink, and the warm feeling it gives her. She feels herself growing more comfortable in Damien's presence. She looks up at him, her eyes sparkling, and says, "So, Damien...Commanding-Dominant...um, what should I call you when we're... you know, alone together? Do you mind that I still call you Damien, or should I be more formal, or…?" Her voice trails off.
Damien, cheeks slightly flushed, he clears his throat before answering. "You can call me Damien if you like, Lillith, so long as you make sure to please me. At least at this point. I'm sure you will call me all manner of things if you make the mistake not to, but I doubt that will be a problem. I'm sure we'll come up with something between us in time." His gaze drifts downward, appreciating her curves.
"Oh Damien, I promise pleasing you will always be uppermost in my mind. Its not every day a girl can say goodbye to the punishment pits. And whatever Elagibborim thought, actual betrayal is just so messy, so it doesn't actually interest me much." She wrinkles her nose prettily, and places her hand on his. Feeling flushed and pleasant, she endeavors to convey her warm feelings to him with her power.
Damien smiles in return, and take her hand in his. "Not that he wouldn't have deserved it, but that's good to know. I plan on rewarding those closest to me lavishly if they can help me achieve my aims, with power and promotions as well as material gains. At my side is where I want you, but its also where you want to be."
Lillith smiles, pleased with his words. She stands up slowly, her body moving gracefully, slinking around the table to his side of the booth. She rubs his cheek with her hand, and leans in until he can feel her hot breath against his ear. "Its exactly where I want to be. I could show you how much now, if you'd like...," she whispers. "And, you could show me how to make you happy...? It’s been sooo long." Her fingertips slide down his jaw and trace circles on his neck, and she taps into more of her power, sending shivers down his spine.
Damien shudders with pleasure, his grip tightening on the table. "I think... I think I'd like to see what you can show me very much," he murmurs.
Lillith smiles, her fangs gleaming in the dim light. "Trust me, Commanding-Dominant Damien... you'll enjoy this." She takes his hands in hers and guides them to her breasts, her emerald eyes smoldering. Then her fingers move down to dance across the crotch of his black leather pants, quickly locating his member and tracing its outline.
Damien turns and pulls her into his lap, wrapping an arm around her. Lillith gasps softly as she's pulled there, her body molding against his, her ass squirming on his hardening member as her tail undulates behind her. She arches her back, pressing her chest even tighter against him, her lips parting as she anticipates what comes next. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him on, while her hips begin to move in a slow, sensual rhythm.
"Now that's what I call a private dance," the bartender mutters to himself, watching from afar. Letting out a low whistle, he shakes his head. He already knows he’ll have to have the wench clean up the mess they’ll leave on the table later.
As they continue to grind together, Lillith whispers in his ear, "Let’s get your clothes out of our way, Commanding-Dominant Damien. Let's see what you're made of." Her voice is husky, full of desire, and it sends another shiver down his spine. He grants her request without hesitation, quickly undoing buckles and straps and peeling off his leather jerkin revealing his toned, muscular abs beneath and opening his pants, pulling out his cock.
The bartender watches, fascinated, as even from across the room he can see Damien's cock harden, straining against his abdomen while Lillith rubs herself against it. He wipes the counter one more time before retreating to a "watch" post to make sure no one interrupts them, already anticipating the sound of their moans and the smell of their sweat in the air.
Damien's hands explore Lillith's body, tracing patterns on her skin, his fingers dipping into her cleavage and teasing her nipples. She arches her back further, her moans growing louder as he touches her. The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this private, intimate moment.
As their passion reaches its first peak, Lillith feels Damien lift her up by her hips so his cock presses against her panties, seeking entrance. She moans his name, urging him on, and when he finally pulls her panties aside and thrusts inside her, they both cry out in pleasure. The movement is slow and deliberate at first, as she slowly slides down his thick, bright red cock, her pussy already wet but struggling to stretch around the invader suddenly probing into her core. She rotates her hips, tail thumping at the table, working him inside her, methodically sucking all of him in, centimeter by centimeter.
They both cry out again as she finally hits bottom and grinds her pussy down, reveling in being once more full of powerful demon cock. She sighs contentedly, and Damien hefts her breasts before bringing one of her nipples to his mouth, sucking hard and practically wrapping his long, dexterous tongue around it. She starts to rise up and slide down, gently, softly, up and down. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed. Her inner walls grip him tightly, lovingly, and flutter in a milking motion that both luxuriate in. As their speed increases, he starts thrusting up at her harder, and the sounds of their bodies colliding filling the air.
The bartender watches, transfixed, as they writhe together in the booth, his own hand slowly moving beneath the counter, finding relief in his own need. Truth to tell, more than a few other patrons join him, mostly furtively but a few openly. Envy and awe at Damien's prowess and Lillith's beauty, allure, and grace dominate the tavern.
Damien continues thrusting up powerfully into Lillith in long movements, shaking the table with every thrust, as she writhes her hips on his lap. His hands grasp her breasts, his thumbs now stroking her hard nipples. He grunts as he exerts his muscular body, still a bit sore from earlier, less pleasant exertions.
Lillith meets each of Damien's thrusts with a moan, her hips driving down to meet him. She drapes her arms over his shoulders, her nails digging in to his back as she loses herself in the sensation of having him, and being taken by him. Her heavy breasts shake with each breath, nipples hard and tingling madly in his fingers. She leans against his broad, muscular chest, rubbing against him, her head buried in his neck, licking the salt sweat there and reveling in the feeling of his cock moving completely in and out inside her.
Their bodies become slick with sweat, hot, burning, as they continue their lustful dance, her light blue and his dark red skin contrasting in their entanglement. As their movements grow more and more frenzied with each passing moment, lost in themselves, the bartender watches, transfixed, his own hands working faster beneath the counter as he imagines being in their place. Many in the tavern follow suit. The room seems to spin around them, lost in the intensity of their connection.
Finally, with a powerful thrust, Damien cries out, his body tense as he releases himself deep inside Lillith. She clings to him, hands tightening on his shoulders as her own orgasm washes over her in wave after wave of pleasure. Their bodies relax into each other, breathing heavily as they catch their breath, their hearts racing. The bartender, meets his own release, powerfully satisfying, as do a number of others; mutual arousal colliding with Lillith's power let loose while she lost herself in passion. He wipes the result and himself, finally leaving his "watch" position and returns to tend his bar, making sure to give them a knowing wink as he passes by. Gonna be a lot of clean-up from this one, but worth it, he thinks to himself.
Damien smiles at the bartender, then takes Lillith's chin in his hand and kisses her deeply. "That was a wonderful start, I think."
Lillith kisses back enthusiastically, sighing. When he releases her, she smiles up at him, her cheeks flushed. "Mmm, definitely a good beginning. I think we should find someplace a little more private for the rest of it, though. I'm not sure I can quite contain my power yet, but I feel it coming back quickly." She glances around the tavern, still feeling the heat of their passion coursing through her veins, firing her succubi nature.
Damien and Lillith waste no time from there, straightening up their clothes, and making their way through the tavern. They move casually, careful not to draw too much attention, though there are plenty of eyes on them anyway, of that there is no doubt. They exit through a back door that leads to a dimly lit alleyway, the smell of garbage and urine mixing with the scent of their arousal. The bartender watches from his spot in the tavern, smiling to himself as he sees them disappear into backalleys of Par Dis.
In the shadows, they don’t get very far before finding a quiet spot beside a dump mound and deciding for a moment to continue their passionate embrace. Their clothes are soon moved aside, once again unleashing Damien’s thick red cock and Lillith’s puffy pink pussy. Damien lifts Lillith up, supporting her weight with one arm as he guides her down onto him, filling her again. Her legs wrap around his waist, and her tail curls around his free arm. They move together in the darkness, lost in the rhythm of their bodies, oblivious to anything but each other as Lillith’s body rises and falls, squeezing as she slides up and then relaxing as she falls back down to crash her pelvis into his.
Their moans echo off the brick walls, blending together in a chorus of desire lost in the heat of the moment. Finally Damien takes her tail and licks its tip, which causes her to shiver and squeal as an orgasmic wave washes over her and she clings tighter to him. The fluttering of her pussy drives him over the edge and he releases another load inside her.
Damien slowly lets her down and they recover for a moment, breathing hard and leaning against each other. Finally they reshuffle their clothes back into place once more and begin the walk back to Damien’s stronghold. As they do, Damien can’t help but formulate his next plots; if this night continues as well as it had so far, this clever, debauched minx of a succubus was going to be more valuable to him than even he had ever expected.