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Excerpt for Patreon 02-2017 - Urban Arcana - Domme Succubus by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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It’s the little things in life that make you the happiest. The mirror in front of you, for instance, is a source of joy. In it, you get to practice ‘the domme look’. Some would say you have that look by default; your body has changed from the standard outlines of humanity, to that of a lilac-skinned succubus. But that’s no excuse for complacency. So you practice, letting out that hungry purr, all the better to draw in willing lovers until they’re wrapped around your fingers.


It must be confessed; you’ve gotten very good at that initial moment; just a few heartbeats of time are all it takes. Capturing them in piercing violet eyes with vertical slits rest at their core. Your face is jaw-droppingly feminine, with light makeup to draw further attention to those eyes, and plump, glossy lips.


You’ve dressed in your best for this next visitor. Your body is encased in glistening black latex, which is in stark contrast to the pale purple flesh of your lithe body. Of course, there are some key portions of your body that are artistically framed by the suit, instead of being covered. It would be a crime to keep your heaving e-cup breasts from hanging free, puffy nipples eagerly awaiting some contact. Likewise, a long rectangle of latext has been cut out from your crotch, revealing a tight, dewy slit. The bud of your clit is visible past your hood, and the very top of your womanhood is adorned with a little shaved heart of black fluff, the same color as your hair.


As for your more demonic attributes, large, curling horns sprout from beneath a mess of raven curls. Sprouting out from just above a plump, luscious rear-end is a metre-long, whiplike, spaded demon tail. It moves around with perfect control, and it’s the matter of will and some tensed muscles to deliver a rather impressively sharp spank with it. You also have some surprisingly cute little wings sprouting against your shoulder blades. They can flap, but they earn you no lift. Last but not least amongst your demonically-themed endowments, the flesh of your heels end in perfectly smooth keratin spurs, giving you the natural swagger of a woman in high-heels.


It does serve to give your ass a little more shock-and-awe, it was worth spending months getting the walk down just right. You’re a performer, and a damned good one.


It’s a performance with a very limited number of actors, but the stage is always yours. Casting an eye around the room, it’s meticulously ready. Soft carpet floor, some deep, low chairs, a bed… not to mention a few mirrors for seeing yourselves in, and a mounting setup for getting someone tied and suspended. It’s very yummy seeing just how close to the edge you can get them on nothing but the spectacle of the whole ordeal.


You giggle to yourself and wriggle on the spot, drawing a high bar stool into the middle of the room. It’s just about time…


Almost narrative-ly on cue, the heavy door that leads to your quaint little love-dungeon seems to ring with heavy knocks. Usually they’re gentle, almost nervous knocks on your door. It’s what makes this next visitor oh-so-special.


“Come in~!” your voice is a sultry growl, and the grin plastered on your face is smug at the sight of her. She’s tall; taller than you, by far. She must be at least seven foot of humanoid at first glance, and there’s a lot of her to try and take in all at once. From the top-down, she has shoulder-length mess of fiery-red hair. Her skin is a rich, chocolate-y brown, and freckles of a paler color adorn her nose and cheekbones. Her eyes are a vibrant green, and they already glimmer with a hint of defiance that fills you with desire. From directly above her ears, five-inch horns stick out straight backwards.


There are a far greater list of abnormalities to her; you know for a fact that she’s hiding nearly a foot of talented tongue. Not to mention that she’s framed in patches of smooth ruby scales; the shining layer goes right down the back of her lithe, athletic body. They wrap around her ribcage to the very edges of cute c-cups. With no clothing to hide her, it’s impossible to disguise the fact that her hips are far broader than one would’ve expected; egg-laying hips, you remind yourself. A long, thick tail of similar red scales lashes around nervously, and sprouting from tip tip is warm yellow flame that slowly shifts to a pale white.


You know from experience that it provides no heat— it’s just imagery. What does provide heat, however, is the almost alien, reptilian cock. It’s an almost... rich purple color, half-hard in the open air. It’s a particularly thick member, adorned with nodules and bumps made for striking off of as many sensitive surfaces as possible in a single thrust. Her name is Terra, and she’s a challenging case.


When you first met her, she was thoroughly defiant. Dominant, you would argue. From the outset you were fairly sure that this meeting wasn’t going to work out for either of you; you don’t bend to another’s will, it’s not your way. It’s always a struggle to get off if you aren’t in control of the whole ordeal… which probably is something a psychiatrist would have a great deal of fun exploring. All you know is that you’re a Domme. The Domme in fact. You know her name, but she knows you only as mistress.


… You’re glad you stuck at it during your first meeting. Breaking this subby salamander in was worth it.


With a seductive smile, you spread your legs on the stool, giving her clear view of the tight, lube-leaking pussy in its latex frame. Terra stops mid-step, as though you’d begun hypnotizing her.


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