 
# Secret Diary Of A Young Succubus

By Jacquotte Fox Kline

ISBN-13: 978-0-9969243-3-7

Copyright 2015 Jacquotte Fox Kline

Smashwords Edition

# I: The North Country

## Chapter 1. The Brown-Eyed Boy

" _In the Lethe's low alluviums the black Tartarus poppies bloom. To soothe memories of Heaven, they yield a desirable fruit."_

~ from Des Anges Et Leurs Plaisirs by Mss. Amb. Inannah

Once upon a time, I was born into a dark world, and I could remember nothing, not even who I was. I had no idea why. Someone was there to help me. She held my hand through those days of doubt and fear. She was Mistress Inannah—a wealthy and important succubus. I was a fallen angel, a former resident of Heaven who had been reborn and transformed.

I believed Inannah's story. I sat for hours at the marble-topped vanity in my bedchamber in northern Tartarus, angling my armchair to see my back in the gilt-framed mirror. The twin scars along my shoulder blades were pink and tender. The severing of my wings seemed recent from all appearances, but there was a terrifying emptiness where my memories needed to be.

According to Inannah, I'd rebelled from Heaven. I'd betrayed Lord Deus and the archangels. I'd weighted my angel body and jumped into the lower realms. I'd splashed down into the Sea of Desire.

Inannah had waited for me to fall. She'd dragged my unconscious body from the brackish waves near the cool effluvium of the river Styx. She'd slapped me awake with her benevolent hands and spirited me away from any guardian angels who might have given chase.

Inannah was one of Hell's most illustrious ambassadors. According to her, she'd been my contact during my spying activities. I'd been a respectable female angel—a precocious junior member of an interior ministry. I'd known some of Heaven's secrets. The information that I'd delivered had helped turned the tables in the battle of the ages. The forces of Hell, for the first time in centuries, were winning the war over territory and souls.

The powers of Hell had been pleased with my defection. Due to the black nectar that I was imbibing, however, I remembered nothing of the transformation ceremony where Lady Lilith herself, queen and mother of all the succubi, had made me into one of Her dark daughters as my reward. It wasn't my destiny to become a slave like all other fallen angels, although my wings had been snipped and my halo had disintegrated, eroded by an inundation of sin.

Mistress Inannah was my mentor. I had no choice but to believe everything she said. My Mistress promised that she would teach me everything that I needed to know to become an upstanding daughter of Lilith, a proper servant of Hell, a devoted worshiper of the great Lord Hades, and a passionate seductrix and purveyor of lust upon human and angel souls.

I was to be Inannah's fledgling—a student succubus who was learning her dark arts. My name was Shar-si, with a -si suffix to denote my fledgling status, while Inannah's –ah suffix meant a fully-fledged succubus. Inannah was an elder, many centuries old.

My life among the succubi would not be easy. I was an outsider, and the shocks of my fall and transformation had made me unstable. My emotions were out of control, and I had no memory-moorings to help keep them in check. I was often happy one minute and angry the next, and a minute after that I would burst into tears. Over the weeks and moons of my rehabilitation in Inannah's country château, my goal was to patch over my wounded angel soul.

Mistress Inannah comforted me. She brought me slave boys each evening. She taught me to steal love from our slaves in the succubus way—to suck the energy of their sexual desires to sate my never-ending succubus Hunger.

Inannah praised my progress, but I hoped that I hadn't made a mistake in betraying my own kind. When I saw the pain sometimes in a punished angel boy's eyes, I wondered if I was to blame for his collar, his chains, and his fate.

When I demanded more answers from Mistress Inannah, she would only smile enigmatically. My role was over, she said. I needn't worry. My task was to serve our Lord Hades and Lady Lilith. I needed to work. I had much to learn. I needed to let go of my doubts and indulge myself fully in a life of lust and desire. I needed to surrender to my succubus transformation and thereby heal my mind.

I was frustrated by the lack of answers about my past, but my Mistress was like a hovering mother, always by my side. Inannah was also mentoring another fledgling. Fubuki-si had studied with Inannah for some decades. Succubi aged very slowly, just like angels, so Fubuki appeared young, no older than me. She was responsible for bringing my black tea.

One night after the evening slave-taking, I retired as usual to my bedchamber, but Fubuki didn't bring my tea. As the hours passed towards midnight, I became jittery. I extinguished the candles, but my body felt hot. I tossed and turned in my black lace nightshirt.

My medicinal tea gave me an intense and lingering pleasure, dear reader. When I didn't have it, my body and mind began to ache. It can't be overstated how much I needed my black tea. I needed the tea more deeply than I even knew in those dreamy, half-awake days.

Of course, the succubi had addicted me to the black poppy nectar that they were mixing into my tea, but in those days I was innocent of such subtlety and venom. I would soon become more aware of what Inannah was doing to me, but I'll relate more of that in the following chapters.

Around midnight on that particular night, I decided to go find Fubuki. I couldn't sleep. I needed my tea. I put on a gown and ventured barefoot from my bedroom.

Inannah's country home was a lavish château in the wastes of Tartarus, some distance north from Hell's capital city of Dis. The château was a peaceful place far from the chaos, predation, and political intrigues of the big city—a good place for a traitorous angel to relax and recuperate after a fall.

Inannah's country home was grand. She was very wealthy. She was one of Hell's ambassadors, and her devil husband, Archduke Asmodai, was a high-ranking official in Hell's Court. Inannah passed each winter season in the north country, while her husband remained in the capital with his Court business.

The château was dead silent that night, with no music or laughter from male visitors. The bronze satyr at the end of the second floor hallway looked at me in blind silence. Beyond the statue, no curtains stirred in the half-open window. No spider lightning flashed that night, or dry thunder in the polluted sky.

Fubuki's bedchamber was dark too, and no stirrings came from the void of Inannah's half-open door at the far end of the hall. I peeked into the tapestry-draped cavern of Inannah's bedchamber. The only life was a white candle that guttered in an ornate silver holder by the silken black bed.

I descended in silence to the ground floor of the château, down the steps of the curving marble staircase lit by candelabra. When I reached the foyer, I heard the noises—faint clicks or snaps coming from the forbidden door in the corner. Inannah had ordered me not to access the door in the foyer, but I walked over and tested the gilded handle anyway.

The door opened. The snapping sound came louder from below. Curiosity compelled me, and so did my need for tea. I was afraid to get caught, but I was supposedly a former spy. Surely I was skilled at eavesdropping, or so I must have reasoned at the time. I tip-toed through the door and down the steep close-walled curving stairs. When I reached the bottom, a startling scene unfolded.

There was a large room under Inannah's château with a floor mosaic of red and white tiles that formed spiraling waves. A low slab table sat in the center of the room on four stubby clawed legs. A boy with light brown skin perched on all fours on the table. He looked young like me, around college age in Earth terms, with lithe brown limbs, slender hips, and masculine shoulders.

Mistress Inannah sat on the low table next to the nude boy with her back towards me. She wore a red leather corset that wasped her waist. Her white-blonde hair fell most of the way to her muscular hindquarters, where the light of the lamps threw the deep cleft of her bare buttocks into shadow. Inannah was nude from the waist down. In the low light of the candles, her skin looked almost as brown as the boy's. Her long, tapering legs were splayed wide to brace herself with her elder's hooves.

The snapping sounds were loud in the low stone room. Inannah held one strong hand on the boy's bare lower back and worked the paddle with the other. _Snap, snap, snock._ Inannah leaned forward to examine her work. She continued paddling. _Snap, snap, snock._

The boy looked up in mid-moan. He'd spotted me hiding there in the shadow of the stair, squatting like a silent gargoyle. I saw a shimmer when the boy turned his head. He had a halo. I glimpsed scars on his back too. They looked just like my own. The boy's scars caught the lamplight when he arched and flexed his oiled brown body under the force of the paddle strokes. The boy was an angel like most of Inannah's slaves—one of her private collection of them.

The angel boy was distracted, but he kept his eyes fixed on me. His eyes were wide and glassy in the light of the lamps. His irises were a rich chocolate color. I thought at the time that the boy was crying from Inannah's paddling, but in light of what I would discover eventually, I wonder if he was crying at the sight of me—his old girlfriend from Heaven, his one true love that he'd thought long lost. Without access to my memories, I didn't recognize him then, although the sight of him tugged a deep memory-string.

The boy groaned softly, even as he kept his eyes fixed on me. _Snap, snap, snock_. _Snap, snap, snock_. The muscles of Inannah's shoulder flexed in the lamplight as she worked the paddle over the boy's ass in a steady, patient rhythm.

Inannah paused to dip her hand under the boy's hip. The boy was aroused, and the Mistress stroked his cock slowly with her fingertips, teasing and tugging. Her fingers were like the legs of a spider, weaving a web of pleasure into the boy's most tender skin. She worked for some seconds until she audibly flicked her black-painted fingernail against the tip and pulled her hand away.

Inannah licked her hand, reached back underneath, and worked the boy's cock a second more before she pulled her hand away again, dragging her fingernails across the skin of his hip. The boy arched with pleasure and pain. I knew the desperate ache in his glistening eyes. He was maddened by need for his release. The corner of Inannah's black-painted mouth curled. She seemed pleased. She resumed the paddling.

Snap, snap, snock.

Emotions flowed through me as I watched—lust, desire, and a fear from viewing the forbidden. I reached between my thighs, insinuated my hand under my nightgown, and pushed against the petals of my sex. I was wet.

I wasn't aroused so much from the sight of the boy, but more from the power of Mistress Inannah and the things she was doing to him. The paddle smacks percussed a chord in my wicked succubus soul. I let my gaze roam to the walls of the room, which were covered with whips, crops, and a myriad of leather, metal, and glass implements. On the far side, a hall led to another lamplit room.

I could see cages deeper in the gloom of Inannah's pit. I glimpsed another faint halo, and another. Inannah's angel slave boys all lived down there. The brown-eyed boy dropped his head suddenly, unable to crane his neck to watch me anymore. _Snap, snap, snock._

The Mistress reached under the angel boy and stroked him again. She turned her wrist to slap and worry his cock, sustaining the slave boy's intimate torture. The paddle fell again from a different angle, a little harder.

Snap, snap, snock, snock, snock.

The boy lifted his head to look at me again. I'd never seen anything like his eyes. They were filled with anxiety, pain, wonderment, sadness, and surprise. A chill stirred my bones then. I was afraid of how Inannah might feel about my forbidden intrusion. I'd seen enough, and my stomach ached. Despite the beauty of that boy, I couldn't focus. I needed to find Fubuki. I needed my black tea for the evening.

I withdrew my hand from between my thighs, dried my fingers on my nightgown, and silently pivoted. My heart jumped to my throat. Fubuki was standing behind me in the stairwell, looking down from a few steps up. Her doll-like painted eyebrows formed a frown. Inannah's first fledgling was dressed in an exquisite black evening gown. The smells of Hell's decadence wafted from her—sweat, perfume, flowers, leather, sex, and other olfactory scent-pleasures.

Fubuki had been out to a party, which explained my missing tea. I quietly slipped past her and fled up the steps. When I reached the foyer, I turned to close the door, but Fubuki had followed me. She grabbed my wrist. Her long, decoratively painted fingernails bit like vipers into my sensitive angel skin.

"That door is supposed to be forbidden to you," she whispered with her stilted, Asian accent. "You're in trouble."

"Please leave me alone. Please don't tell the Mistress."

I wrenched my arm away from Fubuki and ran up the curving staircase until I arrived out of breath in my bedchamber. I buried my heated body beneath the quilted bed covers. I was afraid there might be real consequences for my transgression.

As I tried to sleep without my tea, the brown-eyed angel boy haunted me. I wondered if he had something to do with my memories. Perhaps he was a key to everything that had happened to me in the past. Nothing else in Hell had tugged so hard at the deep muck of my lost angel girl memories.

I finally shucked off my nightgown and bedcovers to feel the coolness coming through the grid of iron bars in my bedroom window. The scene with the boy had aroused me. Inannah had treated him wickedly. The succubi were evil, I knew. I was afraid that I was evil too.

The sights beyond the forbidden door hadn't disturbed me. I'd felt lust and desire instead—feelings that no good angel would ever have, at least no angel who still had her wings. I curled into a tight naked ball. My intensity finally drained me, and I drifted off to sleep.

My confusion continued in the dream world. I saw the brown-eyed boy. We were together in a sunny place with a bright blue sky. I saw marble surfaces and columns standing tall, and I was dressed all in white.

The brown-eyed boy still had his little wings, and so did I. He grabbed my wrist and pleaded with me. He said things, but I heard nothing. I unfurled my ruffled pink umbrella and jumped.

## Chapter 2. An Affair Between Fledglings

When I awoke the following morning, I shed my covers and sat for a while in the warmth of the dim Tartarus sunlight, which glowed into my bedchamber from the iron-barred window above the foot of my bed. I sat up and gazed out through the wavy glass at the gritty puce haze and yellow clouds of Tartarus—a distorted landscape so different than the clean blue that I'd seen in my dream.

I turned my thoughts to my dreams. I tried to dredge up real memories of the brown-eyed boy. I wanted to know who he was. I wanted to know if I knew him, but I couldn't ask Mistress Inannah without confessing that I'd disobeyed.

The paddling scene from the prior night was like a weed in my head with roots that ran deep—roots that wouldn't pull up no matter how hard I tugged. My attempts to remember were blocked by the hollowness in my body.

I deeply needed my tea, and my need pounded in my head and ached in my belly. Inannah had told me that our feelings shaped our desire-bodies in the lower realms. As an angel in Heaven, my body had been composed of pure thought and intellect. In Hell, my emotional energy made up my very skin and bones—the new, sensual husk that imprisoned my angel soul.

I was happy and relieved when I finally heard the footfalls outside my door. The gilded lever-handle of the door turned, and Fubuki appeared with the usual silver tray and the white porcelain cup on it. I climbed out of bed, uncaring about my nudity in front of my fellow fledgling. I was eager to drink my tea.

I was standing by Fubuki when she sat the tea tray on my writing desk. My hand shook when I reached past her and took the cup. It was almost full of the black liquid—more than normal. The extra, I guessed, was to make up for missing my medicine the night before. The tea smelled sweet in my nostrils, but it always tasted bitter. Some if it dribbled down my chin.

"Clumsy," Fubuki admonished. She wiped me. Her fingernail poked the damp corner of my lip. "Don't spill it. Your medicine is expensive."

I hardly listened to her. Intense pleasure waved down my throat, numbed my tongue, and filled my head until the roots of my hair tingled. I lowered the emptied cup with relief and leaned on the desk to steady myself. Warmth glowed through my body—a flood that washed away the disturbing thoughts of the brown-eyed boy, leaving only a tingling, relaxed pleasure and happiness through my being.

Fubuki was standing close behind me. She tugged my arm. I almost toppled. I was unsteady on the upslopes of my tea-pleasure. I twisted to look at her, surprised.

Fubuki always wore her face fully painted. Her eyebrows were little black lizardlings on her forehead. Matching black pencil arcs corralled the tight desirable petals of her red-painted lips. Fubuki usually brushed her face with white powder and wore a diamond piercing in her left nostril—a yellowish gem in a silver setting shaped like a tiny flower.

Fubuki had done her hair up that morning with an elaborate coif held in place by gilded pins. Her polished fingernails were painted with tiny gold dragons. Inannah's first fledgling was beautiful and spent a great deal of time with her beauty. It would take me years to find that level of pride in myself, perhaps because my pride kept getting wounded.

Fubuki held a varnished stick with a leather grip. It was a meter long and reed-like in diameter. I hadn't even noticed the stick. I'd been focusing on my tea.

"Down," Fubuki said, guiding me by my arm to the middle of my bedroom. "Get on your knees on the floor. I'm going to punish you."

My heart pounded. "For what?"

"You went into the pit last night. You're forbidden to go into the pit. Mistress Inannah told you, but you did it anyway. I won't tell the Mistress what you did. This time I'll take matters into my own hands. You should be grateful."

I could have resisted Fubuki. I could have used a hateful kinehex or any number of fighting moves to forcefully expel her from my room or cripple her so she couldn't hurt me. I didn't realize in those times that I was a far stronger succubus than I thought. Even with my wings clipped, my skills were considerable, and there was far more to my past than I'd yet been told. In fact, Fubuki couldn't have forced me to do anything.

I didn't know that then, and the tea made me pliable, dizzy, and mentally weak. Fubuki's hands guided me down to my knees. She positioned herself behind me. The skirt of her kimono tickled across the back of my bare ankle as she positioned herself.

"You might have the soul of a succubus now," Fubuki murmured. "But you still have the mind of an angel girl." The reed cracked against my bare ass. I arched against the wash of pain. I forced my tea-numbed throat to form words.

"Why are you so cruel to me?"

"I told you," Fubuki replied. "You broke the rules. You were told not to go through that door."

The cane fell again, and a third time, and a fourth. Tears came to my eyes. I kept protesting. Stubbornness, I'd learn, was an old trait of mine.

"Does the Mistress know that you're punishing me?"

"No," Fubuki replied. "I told you that, stupid angel."

The cane fell again with a blow that was twice as hard as all of the others. I shuddered viscerally. The cane fell again, this time across the tender backs of my thighs.

"Please stop. Please."

I began to sob. I couldn't help myself. I felt ashamed, and even more ashamed that I was begging. The cane fell again and again, high and low—not that hard, but enough to hurt. I made mewing sounds of infuriation. I was getting angry.

"You're hopeless," Fubuki said cruelly. "Shut up your moaning. You're like a slave girl. I'll bet you're already wet."

"No I'm not."

"You don't think so? I think I'll check. Ten denarii says a slut for punishment is hiding in your oyster. Angel girls are all the same."

"Keep your hands away from me," I snapped. "You're the one who should be checked. You're the one who is enjoying this."

The cane fell again, and it kept falling, over and over. I moaned and moaned, and the pain overwhelmed the pleasure of the nectared black tea, but not too much. Fubuki finally relented, but not before she knelt and plunged a finger into my sex. Her knuckle caught my clitoris, which echoed a ping of pleasure. Fubuki withdrew her finger and wiped the wetness on the cheek of my ass, like a punctuation mark on the point she'd scored.

"Like I said," she said. "I'll put this cane in the corner behind your door to remind you of two things. Do not misbehave, and do not forget that I am the first fledgling and you are the second. And don't you dare tell the Mistress what I did with you, or the truth will come out that you were snooping. The punishment will go much worse for you."

I couldn't answer. My chest was heaving with my heavy breaths. Fubuki propped the cane in the corner behind the door and left my bedroom. A hatred for Fubuki rose in my soul, even as the pain from what she'd done subsided down my backside and thighs. I wanted to take that cane and chase Fubuki with it. I wanted to beat her until she wept like I'd wept—until tears streaked the pretty paint on her fake doll-like face.

My anger felt good somehow, like a sudden relief. I climbed unsteadily to my feet. The tea-pleasure was still deepening and spreading out inside me, calming me. The tea normally took fifteen minutes to fully bloom.

I went to my writing desk. Fubuki had forgotten to take the tea tray. I stared down into the empty cup longingly. I picked up the cup and sniffed the sweet hollow of it. I stared down at the web of cracked, black-stained lines in the glaze. I tried to lick the cup bottom, but my tongue wasn't long enough.

A spark jumped in my floating head then, a connection. I remembered the brown-eyed boy. My thoughts and memories of him had slipped away completely with the wash of tea. I felt a queer horror and a sense of odd desperation.

The hours since I'd awoken that morning were already vague. I wasn't sure what I'd been doing before Fubuki had arrived in my bedroom with the tea set. I knew that I was forgetting something important. I went to my writing desk and examined the dusty pens in the drawer, the silvered nibs, and the stack of blank sheets. An old bottle of ink seemed serviceable.

I sat on my sore rear end and wrote. I wrote words in angelic script. I wrote about the brown-eyed boy, and I wrote about Fubuki and how she'd punished me for venturing beyond the forbidden door. I wrote about how furious I was with her. I wrote about my suffering and every other thought that I could find inside my head. Frighteningly, there weren't too many.

One thing seemed certain. The more I wrote, the more I wanted to go see the brown-eyed boy again—that boy who had sparked my buried memories. When the dressing boy Paulo knocked at my door, I hid the handwritten pages before letting him lace my corset and help me into my day dress. I doubted if Paulo could read angelic script, but I didn't want him to see that I was writing anything. I didn't want him to tell the Mistress.

And so began the beginnings of my recorded memories as I know them, dear reader. I planned to preserve them in a secret diary, where I would piece together my confused life. I'd hide my writings away from Mistress Inannah, Fubuki-si, and the slave boys. I would have my secrets, and I planned to unearth more of them, even while I became a succubus and adjusted to my new wicked life.

I wanted to know more of who I really was—the answers that Mistress Inannah refused to give to me. I felt like my life depended on it. I planned to try to rebel against Inannah's reticence. I needed to know all of myself—both dark and light—in order to make myself whole.

I resolved to break the rules again and re-visit the pit. I'd find that slave boy's cage and talk with him. I'd wait patiently and find a time when I wouldn't be caught going down through the forbidden door.

## Chapter 3. The Forbidden Love

Days passed when I had no chance to investigate the chambers under Inannah's château. I had no opportunity to look for the brown-eyed angel boy down in the pit—or at least no chance that I was willing to take. Meanwhile, I hoped to see the brown-eyed boy by another, safer way.

Each night, Inannah would bring up three slave boys from under the house. The Mistress would emerge from the forbidden door and troop the leashed boys through the foyer and into the sumptuous, well-appointed parlour, where we three succubi would entertain ourselves with our evening slave-taking. Inannah would apportion one nude slave boy to me, one to Fubuki, and keep her favorite for herself, and then we would ravish them to feed our succubus Hunger.

I always took my slave at the same time as Mistress Inannah so she could watch me and refine my feeding techniques, but Fubuki-si stopped coming to the parlour after that morning when she punished me. She told Inannah she preferred her privacy, so Fubuki's apportioned slave boy could wait until she came down to retrieve him.

If Fubuki didn't come down to the parlour at the correct hour, Inannah would summon a magical bird to her fingertips and send it flying to tell Fubuki that her slave was ready. Mistress Inannah, it's important to note, was a very skilled sorceress.

Because of what Fubuki had done to me, taking my slaves without Fubuki around suited me too. My memories were fuzzy, but the stripes on my backside were a reminder of what she'd done to me, as were the angry passages in my new secret diary. I didn't want to see Fubuki either. As far as I was concerned, after Fubuki had cruelly caned me, Inannah's first fledgling was not just my fledgling rival. She was my enemy.

For a while, I was afraid Inannah would say something about the red lines on my backside, and I tried my best to hide them so she wouldn't ask questions. Either I was successful for long enough until the marks faded away, or the Mistress didn't see fit to say anything.

The days, nights, and weeks passed in Mistress Inannah's château. I learned more and more of the arts of succubus slave-taking, but the brown-eyed boy never emerged from the pit on the end of one of Inannah's leather leashes. My interest in him faded along with my direct memories of him, and I no longer cared so much about such a triviality. Such was the power of the black tea and what it was doing to me.

My succubus life with the tea was vague and dreamy, and Inannah plied me with slave boys to distract me and stoke my desires. The boys were the supporting actors in the stage play of my confined life. I learned to play with them like a cat plays with its prey. I was a hungry succubus kitten, and the boys were my cute, pliable toys.

All of Inannah's slaves were beautiful fallen angels from Heaven, not mere low-grade humans from Earth. They had shimmering halos of tainted gold light that matched the gold trappings on their collars. None of the slave boys still had their wings—all were shorn like me. Unlike me, the boys also wore Inannah's brand on their backs just their buttocks—the raised welts of a letter G with a squiggle that formed a flower. The brand also looked a bit like a mouse.

We called them "boys", but they were actually souls with appearances of all ages. Some appeared much older than me. Inannah said the looks and qualities of a slave in Hell were dependent on many factors.

For humans, slaves that died young and in perfect health were usually the most coveted. If those humans had died from sex, suicide, or love unrequited, so much the better to stoke the reservoirs of lust-energy in their souls. Angels made excellent slaves due to their conflicts over morality and sin, and their desires flowed well enough when their energy channels were pried open for lust. Angels were also purer and sweet, while humans held less appetizing emotional energy.

The older boys weren't as overflowing with pure lust as the younger ones, but they were the most obedient and well-behaved. A few had been Inannah's slaves for decades. The methods of taking the slave boys to fill my Hunger came naturally to me. I learned many positions and techniques to coax orgasms from their handsome bodies. I thought I was good at it.

Sometimes I was the aggressor, riding a boy on the wood floor in front of Inannah's flickering fireplace. I'd hitch my dress around my hips and milk his cock with the muscles of my sex. Other times I directed the boy to do the work while I relaxed on my knees. I'd rest my head on the cushions of one of our parlour armchairs and pull the boy in, applying suction with my inner succubus power both physical and mystical. I'd absorb the sweet spurts of life-giving lust energy that the boy inevitably surrendered to me.

I loved the evening slave-takings with the angel boys. They were the favorite part of my life. My Hunger was like a beast in my belly that I needed to pacify. I stoked the love essence from the boys, only to steal it and leave them empty. Their passion would dim in their eyes, and their strength and light became mine.

The boys from the pit were sweet, but I had a little contempt for them. Sometimes I wanted to punish one if he wasn't eager to please. Some of the boys didn't like me. I could see it in their eyes. I could _feel_ what they were thinking. I was an angel girl whore—a freak, a turncoat, and a traitor against Heaven and everything holy.

Some of the boys disliked taking orders from me, but I brooked no insolence from any boy. Inannah smiled and encouraged me to punish them on a whim. I was a succubus fledgling, a junior member of Hell's ruling elite, and the slave boys needed to learn their place, even if it galled them to kneel to me.

I especially enjoyed slapping the boys. Finding excuses to do it amused me. If a boy wasn't working hard enough, I was required to take up the crops, paddles, and clips that Inannah kept on the parlour étagère—implements to inspire the boys when their desires flagged. It was in these times, when I was most cruel and pitiless, that Mistress Inannah seemed most pleased with me. Her lips would form a knowing smile, and her silvery eyes would gleam.

Inannah would direct me to the slave boy's most sensitive places. She instructed me how to use the leathery tools of control. She taught me cunning techniques of making boys release their love to me. If the boys underperformed, there were consequences. The boys had been well-trained by Inannah over the years so certain treatments stimulated them greatly.

Inannah would watch me work with her sultry eyes lidded. She always fiddled with her diamond earrings, as if it helped her think. Inannah loved diamonds. She even wore diamond studs in the centers of her perfectly polished, painted fingernails. Her diamonds matched the highlights in her long white-blonde hair.

Sometimes I met Inannah's silvery eyes while I used a slave boy in the parlour. The lips of the Mistress would curl into a soft smile, and an intimacy grew between Inannah and me. After all, we were two succubi indulging our deepest, darkest desires right in front of one another.

As I recorded in my diary, I began to feel lust for Inannah during those moons and weeks of nightly orgies. My young succubus desires ran wild, and my desire for the Mistress slowly gained a hold over me, like a mystical connection that jumped between us. I both hoped and feared that she felt it too.

Inannah was warm and comforting, but in truth she was also businesslike. She was my official mentor, inducting me inexorably into a decadent world and making me feel at ease as a newly-arrived outsider among her people.

Still, I was unsatisfied. I wanted more. I needed a different kind of heat. It was a secret need—a need for real love. I didn't know if my feelings were noble or crude, but they disturbed me. My desires for Inannah tugged at my memory strings just like the brown-eyed boy.

One night in the fire-warmed parlour, with the fierce Tartarus wind blowing through the messenger bird slits and the candles flickering, I finally acted on my feelings, although I hadn't planned it at the time.

Inannah was teaching me. I was sitting on top of a slave boy (the entry in my diary doesn't mention his name), riding him in a typical position with his cock controlled by the inner muscles of my sex. The slave boy's head was near the foot of the corner armchair, just off the edge of the burgundy carpet that was in the parlor that winter.

Chadwick was posing at attention in the nearby doorway, standing in his usual place. Chadwick was Inannah's steward at the country residence. He was handsome but with some grey in his short, well-tended hair. He was responsible for coordinating the slave boys and arranging for any guests. In the case of the evening slave-taking, he handled towels, clothes, and mismanaged drops of this or that.

Inannah was sitting just behind my shoulder, helping me by working the boy—doing something to him that I couldn't see. Her strong right wrist drove repeatedly into the cleft of my ass cheeks. She seemed to be accidentally stimulating me.

The boy was gasping and rolling his eyes, squirming while I kept him held down so Inannah could work her magic. Whatever Inannah was doing, the slave boy's cock was leaping inside of me. I was riding that boy to the crest of his impending orgasm, milking and stroking his shaft with my inner succubus muscles.

"Can you feel it?" Inannah's voice was so close that I could feel her hot breath on my ear. "Reach out with your senses and _feel_ the slave's pleasure as it changes with his pain. Lie down on him if you have to."

I dutifully frogged my legs until my breasts pressed against the boy's chest, all without breaking the magic of the rhythm. I followed the track of my succubus perception, reaching deeper into the boy, sending psychic tendrils to probe his submissive soul. His desires felt like a separate creature possessing him, a thing ruled by stimulus and response, with its own rough texture, feel, shape, and color, like the surface of a tongue.

"Yes," I finally said. "I _feel_ it."

My clitoris pinged with more pleasure in my new position. Of course, I wasn't supposed to have an orgasm as a succubus. I needed to feed on the energy the others, never release it and weaken myself.

"Excellent," Inannah said. "Now _feel_ his love overflow like sweet cream."

"Yes, Mistress." I worked a little harder, and the slave boy groaned his appreciation. The texture inside him changed, even as I felt Inannah's wrist still bumping between my buttocks. Inannah worked her other hand under my belly. She forked her fingers around the boy's shaft where he penetrated me.

Inannah nearly embraced me with one wrist between my buttocks and her other wrist under my belly, with her warm palm against my mons. She was so close that her lips seemed to press against my back, and her perfumed white-blonde hair tickled against my arm and shoulder. I was sure that Inannah meant to stimulate the slave boy to his second release of the evening, but she was setting me off instead. I moaned. I was going over the edge.

"Don't come," the Mistress commanded quietly. "Don't come, fledgling."

Inannah's fingers kept bumping my clitoris while she worked the base of the boy's shaft. I opened my mouth to tell her to stop, but I didn't want that. It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose—prodding my wet, swollen clitoris with the end of her fingertip while she worked the boy. Was it possible that she didn't realize it?

I couldn't resist any longer. I shuddered and came. It was like a dam breaking, and my lust surged in long waves emanating from the point of Inannah's fingertip. My heat, jolting, and wetness compelled the boy to join me. He spurted, and his angel seed sluiced deliciously into me. Inannah withdrew, and I pulled off of the boy's cock. I'd never felt any sensation so incredible that I could remember. I tried to catch my breath.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," I managed.

"Never allow yourself to come with a slave, fledgling." I glimpsed a small smile playing at the corner of Inannah's lips, but her face was frozen. "You just wasted all of the lust energy you took from him, didn't you? It oozed from your skin and flowed out of your wide-open mouth. If you can't help but come, then at least close your mouth and shut down your psyche to help contain your yin polarity."

"Yes, Mistress." I didn't understand anything she'd said, but I understood that I'd made a mistake. My succubus Hunger was a jealous beast, and I'd betrayed it. I felt a vague disappointment and frustration. I also felt emotional because Inannah had never scolded me, at least that I could remember.

The Mistress was still crouched close to me with a warm hand on my back. I stared into her eyes, which were grey and shimmering with her silver. The moon-silver was the visible mark of all incubi and succubi in Hell. My own eyes were a swirling silver-flake blue.

Inannah also had hints of horns—bumpy discolorations under the beginnings of the fine blonde hair at her temples. Those horns, like her hooves, were signs of succubus age, but the Mistress looked no older than forty or fifty in earthly terms. Inannah once said that I would grow hooves and nubs like her someday, but it would take centuries for the succubus aging to accumulate.

I did something foolish then. I tipped over and sought to hug her—to put my heated and emotional face into the inviting hollow of Inannah's collarbone. I bent my head and brushed the upper slope of her bare breast with a kiss, just above her firm dark nipple. I kissed her collarbone again more daringly.

"No," the Mistress said softly.

Inannah caressed my head and recoiled from the warm tangle of our limbs. I looked up into her eyes. She seemed annoyed, but there was something else, like a fright, and at the same time a love. She leaned slowly and kissed the apple of my cheek, and her kiss provoked the most profound shiver in my body. Inannah stroked my arm, extricated herself, and moved away towards her own slave, who was waiting for his second tumble.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Will you please forgive me?"

Inannah straddled her slave boy and plucked low with her fingers to re-coax his flushed phallus into usefulness. "Lesbianism is not for succubi. By our Lord's law, love between two succubi is forbidden."

"But why?" I argued. "We're in Hell, so sins are fine, right? What could be wrong with kissing your neck?"

"The scriptures say that the succubi shall serve our Lord Hades' sons and take husbands from among them," Inannah answered, looking over her shoulder as she rode her boy. "'With body and mind born from Lilith, the succubi shall take the seed of our Lord's seed, and that seed shall be their Life and Providence, and they shall serve that seed and never one another, like their Mother. So let it be.' Since I haven't told you this, my fledgling Shar-si, you are forgiven."

I quailed. Apparently my feelings towards Mistress Inannah were officially forbidden by the Lord of Hell himself. Was this a deep insight into myself? I wanted to guess that it was, but it didn't solve the problem of how I felt.

"Thank you for teaching me, Mistress."

"Although sometimes two succubi will engage in forbidden love anyway." Inannah's voice was a pitch higher than normal. The Mistress humped her slave boy so ferociously that his head bumped against the foot of the nearby chair. He reached with his hand to protect himself.

I stared at Inannah. I watched the muscles of her powerful buttocks flex and control the boy. Inannah was magnificently strong-looking from the waist down. Her belly was lissome, but her hips were wide, giving her an almost heavy rear end—more beautiful and womanly than my own slender and girlish figure. Inannah glanced over her shoulder again. Her silvered eyes were sultry and bright, as if she was waiting for me to say something, so I dared to press her further.

"How often does it happen that two succubi love each other? Have you ever loved another succubus, Mistress?"

"Have you been remembering anything?" Inannah countered. "Are you recollecting things from your past life as a spy? Are you having dreams or seeing faces and people that disturb you?"

"Yes, I think so. Sometimes."

"I see. Thank you for telling me." Inannah turned away, closed her eyes, and bent over the slave boy to enclose him with her arms. I was so envious of that boy in that moment. I yearned to be in his position. The feeling made me queerly frightened.

Meanwhile, Inannah hadn't answered my questions at all. I watched the Mistress for long minutes until the atmosphere in the parlour became uncomfortable. I dried the sweat from my neck and sex, handed Chadwick my towel, and left.

When I returned to my bedroom, I masturbated. I wasn't supposed to let myself come, but I couldn't help myself. I closed my eyes, slid my fingers into my sex, and imagined myself lying on the parlour floor with Inannah on top of me, and they were her fingers inside me, not mine. I soon came again, and I felt wicked and mischievous.

My succubus Hunger welled up then. My Hunger felt like a hollow emptiness in my belly with a will of its own, a creeping grim spectre of death. I suddenly regretted what I'd done. I put my fingers in my mouth, and I imagined Inannah ordering me to lick them clean. Was Inannah such a powerful succubus that I was affected by her mere presence? Yes.

## Chapter 4. Meeting Master Cole

My progress as a young succubus continued through the tea-drifting days. There were an infinite number of details that I wouldn't want to bore you with, dear reader, but which I nonetheless recorded with diligent detail in my diary so I wouldn't forget them.

I was highly focused on my diary in those early days of writing. I even stole half a stack of blank paper from Inannah's desk in her library. I wanted no important thoughts to slip away from me, even as the days behind me dissolved into a vague haze along with my steady cupfuls of delirium-inducing black tea.

Along with my fading memories flowed the brown-eyed boy that I'd seen in Inannah's pit. According to my diary pages, he never emerged for the evening feeding, or if he did, I failed to recognize him. I guessed he wasn't ready, so the Mistress had been giving him a lesson.

I was more and more worried about the black tea's effect on me. It clearly had deeper effects than just relaxation and healing. I wanted to trust Inannah. She was my life. She was my guide. I thought I loved her, and I didn't know anything else. I really wanted the tea, and I kept wanting more of it, and my desire felt pleasant, seductive, and fine.

When I confided that I felt frightened, the Mistress would simply reiterate the importance of accepting my new succubus life and the wisdom of all-knowing Lady Lilith. Inannah comforted me with wonderful hugs that I didn't want to end, but she didn't touch my sex again. Her manner continued to be businesslike and goddesslike.

The most significant change to my regimen in this period related to the evening slave-taking. Inannah said that I needed to learn my proper devotion to the Lord and the Lady. I needed to learn the sacred scriptures. After Inannah brought the slave boys from the pit, Fubuki and I would pray with the Mistress. We asked the Lord and Lady to bless our evening revelry.

The three of us would kneel in front of the wide stone surround of Inannah's fireplace with the Mistress in the center between her two fledglings. The sacred fire in the hearth symbolized the burning heat of our succubus desires. We prayed and recited passages from the scriptures—Lord Hades' commandments for His children and worshipers.

Inannah burned incense as an offering to the small statues of Lord Hades and Lady Lilith on the mantle. The bronze statue of our Lord held a pair of scales, which Inannah said measured many things, chief amongst them our devotion to Him.

Inannah's requirement that Fubuki be present for prayers prolonged the evening proceedings. Fubuki was often uninterested and late, or simply missing, having left with friends to go to a party in the town nearby. Inannah became furious a few times with Fubuki. Inannah told me that her first fledgling wasn't setting a good example.

One day, Inannah scolded Fubuki for missing prayers the previous night. She instructed Fubuki to meditate in her room while she took me shopping in town for dresses and new shoes. The Mistress locked Fubuki in her bedchamber and took the key with her. I was secretly pleased that Inannah favored me that day while my rival got disciplined. I was excited to get out of the château and see the local region.

Inannah's château was on the outskirts of a small but opulent town in northern Tartarus. The town was called Apertura Arroyo, and it was a vacation place for the wealthiest residents of Hell. It was a fair distance north of Hell's capital city of Dis, along the coast of a vast dry sea called the Mare Mortis. Residents of the capital city flew on the backs of wyrms to get up to the north country.

Inannah took me to the town landing field, and we looked at the great scaly wyrms. The beasts appeared terrifying, and so did their demon masters who worked the facility for the wealthy succubi, incubi, and Hell's Court devils.

Those demons were a motley bunch. Most had horns. Some had claws or hooves. Some were furry, and others were scaly. Demons, Inannah explained, were the offspring of carnal knowledge between animals and gods. She said there were more gods than Lady Lilith and Lord Hades. She said a few names that I didn't remember, but Lord Deus was surely among them, our Lord's enemy in distant lofty Heaven.

Only the gods could draw down the power to create a new soul in Hell, Inannah further explained, so I had no need to fear pregnancy unless a male god had his way with me. Incubi, succubi, and demons were magically incapable of producing their own offspring. We succubi engaged in sex as a way to exchange power with our lessers or our betters.

I attracted a bit of attention in the village while exploring with Inannah. The demons in particular kept looking at me. Their eyes were catlike or serpentine, multi-colored and strange. Everyone in the village knew Inannah. They called her Ambassador Inannah, and they bowed and spoke with proper deference.

Inannah introduced me to a number of refined people, including the owner of the local shoe shop, Mistress Martheh. Some of Inannah's friends were nice and remarked favorably on my behaviour and appearance, while a few offered shocking criticisms that made me wish I were elsewhere. I was openly ogled, complimented, and disparaged as if I were a marble statue posed for public judgment. Inannah had a lengthy discussion with Mistress Martheh on the angles and curves of the custom-fitted corset that lifted and displayed my youthful tits.

Meeting all of these people and enduring their judgments triggered a bout of insecurity in me. For the first time, I understood the importance of succubus beauty and desirability. The trip effected a change in Inannah's attitude too.

On the way home to our château, Inannah reminded me that she was royalty in Hell. She was a powerful ambassador and a high-ranking officer in the succubus branch of Hell's army called the Serpent Sisterhood, and moreover she was married to Archduke Asmodai, a high official of Hell's Court and a true devil son of our Lord with Lady Lilith. I needed to pay more attention to my beauty and comportment, so as not to embarrass myself and her.

I was learning ways of painting my face, of course, and styles of wearing my blonde hair, but after my trip to the village I was more motivated to be beautiful. I asked Inannah so many questions that the Mistress delegated Fubuki-si to help me learn everything related to glamour and appearances.

Fubuki was a model. She appeared in fashion plates for Asian succubi in the capital city of Dis. Fubuki was impatient and talked to me like a child during my lessons. When I failed at something, she threatened to punish me, and one day she actually did, taking the cane to my backside in my bedroom again because I'd snapped at her.

Fubuki called it insolence. She said since she was the First Fledgling, it was her right to punish me. If I complained to the Mistress, she'd tell the Mistress about my laziness and failures.

I didn't say anything about Fubuki's rudeness towards me, although I was tempted. I didn't want Inannah to think badly of me. I still had queer feelings towards the Mistress during the slave takings. I wanted her so much to love me. I wanted to be beautiful for her. I wanted her to praise me. I tried harder. I plucked, shaved, painted, and powdered endlessly until I was perfect down to my polished and scented toes.

I painted my lips rose red each morning, and Fubuki gave me a small cloth to daintily wipe the paint from the rim of my tea cup when I was done drinking, so she wouldn't have to do it. I purposefully forgot to use the cloth sometimes just to annoy Fubuki and make her clean up after me.

Meanwhile, Fubuki and Inannah made sure that I continually felt the pressure to live up to their expectations. I complied by wanting to please them, even while I agonized in my insecurities. Despite my differences with Fubuki, I decided that I'd be wisest to use her as my model, so I employed a lot of wax and zinc powder on my face.

I experimented with painting elegant designs on my fingernails, but that only amused Fubuki. She took me one afternoon to see a professional in the town, who did my nails for me. Inannah said I didn't need such special treatment. I wasn't ready to go to parties and use my beauty to seduce.

These are just examples, dear reader, of my life during these moons. I recorded a myriad of details in my diary, but they were petty and boring. I obsessed about trivial things, and I was ignorant. The world of Inannah's château and the nearby village was all I knew.

At the same time, I was filled every day with succubus Hunger and lust. My emotions were in a constant flux. I was always low or high on some feeling, and my feelings were always floating on the lovely tide of my irresistable tea. At night, I locked my bedchamber door and dared to add another page to my diary if I wasn't too tired. My diary wasn't a book or anything similar—just a sheaf of handwritten pages. I hid them under some empty leather satchels in the odd wooden closet in the corner of my bedchamber.

Every day I looked forward to the evening prayer and feeding from the slave boys, just as I looked forward to my morning and evening teas. At the same time I was increasingly afflicted with ennui as Inannah called it, especially when the Mistress went away to the village or on a short trip down to Dis, Hell's capital city.

One day I told Inannah that I was bored. I was a young succubus who wasn't getting enough. I kept filling myself with the sex of the slave boys, yet I always felt empty. Inannah seemed pleased by my request for more. A few days later, I met someone who would have a great impact on my life. I would learn later that the encounter was orchestrated by Inannah.

I awoke that morning as normal from a deep, dreamless sleep. I decided that I'd lie out by the pool in the gardens. Inannah was beginning to trust me, despite my over-emotional state. She and Fubuki-si were leaving me alone and allowing me to roam more, although I wasn't allowed to climb over the walls of the gardens or go walking alone down the road.

After Fubuki brought my tea that morning, I went to the bath. I bathed, filed my nails, and shaved my legs and pubis while my tea-pleasure was at full height. As my pleasure tipped the downslope, I returned to my bedchamber to powder and make up my face at my vanity. I pinned my hair, painted my lips, and rubbed soft wax over my eyebrows. I applied hints of rouge to pinkify my colorless and uninspiring little nipples. Finally the dressing boy Paulo arrived to tie my corset for me and help me into my black linen day dress.

I felt confident and relaxed with my beauty that morning. I drifted down the stairs and slipped out through the rear doors of the harpsichord room, past Chadwick, who was polishing the main level floors as he did each dies Mercurii. I arrived at the expansive rear patio and settled myself on a wood-slat chaise longue next to the pool, where I allowed my morning tea-pleasure to finish its wonderful course.

Dawn's chariot was brilliant in the sky, burning the clouds orange against the brown-tainted puce atmospheres. A soft breeze rustled the landscaped trees around the yellow-green swimming pool. The trees in Inannah's gardens were dangerous-looking and thorny, just like the thick hedges of the vines that lined the ancient, crumbling stone walls surrounding the rear of the château.

Inannah's backyard was big, with wide stretches of grass punctuated with clumps of trees, fountains, and marble statuary that obscured the rooflines of the adjacent tree-shrouded houses. Inannah's patio by the pool was my own little garden of Eden that morning, and I was like a lotus flower, splaying my black petals on the chaise longue, fitting in with all of the thorns. I felt lonely. I wanted a serpent to keep me company like Eve, that beautiful, bold heroine in the first chapter of our Lord's sacred scriptures.

I was thinking about Eve and the vague memories of the evening readings when I heard footsteps on the sandy slabs of patio stone. A man with shaggy black hair and tawny skin came out of the house. He closed the distance to me. He wore faded black slacks and a burgundy waistcoat. His coat was unbuttoned to expose a strip of hairy chest, a muscular stomach, and a thick, almost porcine neck.

The man's brown eyes surveyed me. His eyes sparkled with silver, revealing him to be an incubus. Those boyish eyes vaguely reminded me of other brown eyes I'd seen, although without the silver sheen. I clutched towards the memory of the brown-eyed angel boy that I'd seen in the pit, but the recollection drifted away quickly.

"Where is Fubuki-si?" the male interloper asked. "Do you know?" His voice was suave and resonant.

"I don't know," I answered. "She brought my tea to me earlier, but I haven't seen her."

"What's your name, slave? Do you belong to Inannah?"

I felt indignant, but I could understand him mistaking me for a slave. I was an angel with fine bones, delicate features, and honey blonde hair. It was queer to think of what the handsome incubus was mistaking me for. I understood that I was unique, while other angel girls in Hell were properly collared and serving mistresses or masters.

"I'm a succubus," I said after I'd summoned my voice. "My name is Shar-si. I'm Mistress Inannah's second fledgling. Who are _you_?" I put an arrogant inflection on the last word, but the man wasn't impressed. I couldn't do princess superiority like Fubuki-si.

"I apologize," he said. "I was teasing you. I know who you are, and I can see the moon-silver in your eyes when you look at me. You're very beautiful, Shar-si. I'm Master Cole. I own a villa just down the road. So. If Fubuki-si isn't here, this is a problem."

"Why?" I said innocently.

"I'll show you." To my surprise, Cole reached down, unbuttoned his trouser fly, and produced a cock that was a desirable toy compared to the offerings of most of Inannah's boys. Cole looked at me steadily and stepped close. "Could you do something about this for me? I'd appreciate it."

My heart thumped, and my ever-present succubus Hunger leapt, urging me to take the bait. I held fast to my reins. I didn't quite know what Master Cole wanted from me.

"What about Fubuki-si?"

"What do you care?" he answered. "I can _feel_ you want to."

Cole had a persuasive voice and a charming grin, and worst of all, he was right. I did want to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, I reached out and dared to caress Cole's swelling cock. The insides of my head swirled a bit then. Desire stoked the black tea in me, which was why, as Inannah had told me, I took evening tea after my evening slave-takings and not before. Was this the way real men operated in Hell, men who were not slaves? My inner angel girl protested. What about love and romance? Odd chaste notions nagged me out of nowhere.

The urge of my succubus Hunger could not be denied, however. It drove me forward, and I sat up on the chaise to wrap my fingers fully around Cole's cock. The thing was hot, stiff, and animalesque. A tuft of pubic hair poked from Cole's fly along his cock's topside. I stroked gently while he looked down on me. He seemed patient, at least for the moment.

"Is this alright?" I said, stroking his shaft.

"You have soft fingers. Show me how you suck."

I leaned forward and opened my mouth. Cole slid his cock between my teeth. I laved his soft, salty underside with my tongue. In truth, I wasn't sure what I was doing. Was I supposed to do the same things that I did with a slave boy? I was afraid to make a mistake and offend the handsome incubus. Cole's fingers slid into my hair, cupped my head, and tugged, urging me farther onto his cock. I felt warmth underneath me then. A heat was congealing relentlessly in my belly.

I wasn't wearing underthings in those times aside from corsets. Inannah hadn't given me any panties—only a few girdles and garters for the occasions when I went to Apertura Arroyo and wore stockings. In the big city, I'd soon use lingerie to show off Inannah's wealth and my sense of style. During my first seasons in northern Tartarus, I didn't know any better.

After some minutes, Cole pulled his cock from my mouth and wrapped my angelic wrist with his strong hand. He pulled me up to my feet, snapping me to attention. My eyes were about at the level of his thick neck. Cole smelled of horses and peppermint.

The strong incubus bent low and insinuated his hands under my dress to lift it. His hand commanded my sacrum, and his thick fingers arrowed down into my ass crack. With his other hand, Cole held my dress up to my stomach so he could slide his cock underneath. He began to thrust between my thighs, rubbing and nudging my heated vulva. He got rougher with his control of my body, dipping and poking his cock without much subtlety.

"This position isn't working," I said. "Can we—"

"It will work," Cole interrupted with a smile. "I'm enjoying this dance with you. I'm waiting for you to want it enough in your cunt."

We were kind of dancing intimately together to manage the awkward position, and I did want his cock. I grimaced, flexed my hips, and hitched up on my toes with a fit of sudden inspiration to get the correct angle. Cole's cock popped into me. I groaned, but when the splinter of pain went away, a surge of pleasure ballooned in my nectar-elevated belly.

Cole had a different feel than any slave boy. With a slave boy, my own need was all-important, but with Cole it was all about his cock in my cunt, or so he called my sex. I wanted it. We were one. Somehow I felt this in my succubus belly, and my sex responded like never before, at least that I could remember. I just wanted to please that man. My body had united with his, and together we danced with pleasure.

Cole chuckled, betraying (as I would write in my diary later) a confidence in himself that annoyed me, taking me out of my trance. As Cole thrust deeper and kept me on tiptoe, I worried about what Inannah might think of a random morning escapade with a wandering man in the backyard. I pushed my worries away and embraced the pleasure of Cole's cock. I melted harder against him and wrapped my arms over his shoulders.

Cole began a rhythm, and I almost fell backwards, but he was strong. His hand slid deeper under my ass. My feet left the ground, and Cole suspended me in mid-air. I widened my thighs and took him completely into me. I folded my legs around his hips like a frog, and then he had me. He had me deep. That total penetration changed everything. I completely surrendered to him, and Cole lowered me down to the black stones of the patio, pinned me underneath him, and got busy with the real fucking.

I later wrote in my diary that the pleasure I received, once I relaxed and opened fully to him, was indescribable by words. I tried to resist having an orgasm, just as I was supposed to resist with a slave boy, but Cole made me come within a few minutes. I couldn't help myself. Such were my shudderings that I bumped my forehead clumsily on Cole's jawbone, and he smiled and mildly teased me.

My second orgasm was better than the first, and also woke a strange psychic awareness in me. I applied my succubus vacuum just as I would with a male slave then, and after a few more minutes I managed to send Cole over the edge. He filled me, and I felt his thick seed everywhere between my legs. I could _feel_ Cole's male energy dissolve into my female being. Cole became a part of me. He made me feel like a succubus in a way that I'd never felt before, at least that I could remember.

Cole lay on me for a moment before withdrawing and rising to his knees. He straddled my thigh and dried his cock on the black fabric of my dress. I watched his muscles rippling in the Tartarus sun. He was like a tiger crouching over me, and he'd made me his mate. My breasts and thighs were tingling with warmth and excitement. In that moment, I heard the rear château door open, and I heard footsteps.

"Shar-si!" Fubuki sounded furious.

"I couldn't find you, beautiful." Cole re-gained his feet and tucked his hairy cock back into his trousers. He advanced on Fubuki-si and pushed her away from me even as she aimed a kick. I turned away on the sun-warmed stone slab and just lay there. I didn't want to deal with an enraged Fubuki. Her boyfriend had opened my sex like the serpent in the garden had opened Eve's mind.

Cole was a real man—something new in my little world. I wilted under the silence of Hell's chary sun while my thumping heart sent trickles of sweat to soak my silk corset lining. I wondered if I'd given Inannah a reason to be angry with me. Cole had owned my body that morning, but he could never replace Inannah in my heart. I only wished my Mistress knew how much I loved her.

When I finally turned to look, Fubuki and Cole had disappeared into the château, leaving the French doors standing silently open with the sweet smell of floor polish wafting out. I picked myself up and left the pool area. I wandered the paths across the grassy grounds. Queerly, I felt Cole's seed with every step. A tingling heaviness had taken up residence in my belly.

I didn't want to go back into the house. I walked around thinking about Cole. I idly studied the garden statues and worried about Fubuki and how upset she might be. As much as I hated Fubuki, perhaps I needed to apologize. Apparently Cole was her boyfriend, and I was the interloper.

An hour passed before a blackbird flitted across the garden—Inannah's magic messenger bird, born from her sorcery. It landed on my shoulder and spoke with Inannah's voice.

Where are you?

I made my way back to the house and found Mistress Inannah. She said it was time for me to learn succubus magic so we could communicate properly. She said she would teach me my own personal messenger bird. I protested. I didn't know magic. Inannah told me I was wrong. All succubi could cast spells by channeling their sexual energy and willing it into form and purpose through their fingertips.

Inannah asked me what I'd been doing in the garden. I explained what had happened, and Inannah smiled and asked me questions that I didn't record in my diary. She informed me that I'd done nothing wrong. I was perfectly free to fuck Cole whenever I wanted. I acted nonchalant. I was shy to admit the effect he'd had on me.

I wasn't sure when I'd see Cole again, but he mysteriously appeared in my bedchamber the next morning. He fucked me again, thrusting from behind like an animal. His arms wrapped around me, and his hands fondled and pinched my breasts. Again I came twice before he filled me with his heavy and sensual incubus seed.

I had no idea how Cole got into the house at that hour, but I didn't mind. He had far more endurance than the slave boys. He kept going and going. He didn't need to be whipped, slapped, or massaged to get ready for me, and he wanted his cock inside of me constantly. He whispered in my ear how much he loved his cock in my cunt. He sounded sexy when he said that word. It was like a magic word—cunt.

Cole was there holding me with his resting cock nestled against my rear end when Fubuki brought my morning tea. It was another scene. Fubuki glared at Cole as he gathered up his clothes and went out of my bedchamber door. Fubuki almost spilled my cup of much-needed black elixir, but I managed to get it from her. I was so wonderfully happy when the tea pleasure poured on top of the warm belly full of seed that I'd received from Fubuki's boyfriend. I had a revelation concerning the sin of envy. Without it, Hell wouldn't be complete.

After Cole left, I went and informed Mistress Inannah once again of everything that had happened. I was nervous and insecure. To my relief, the Mistress smiled and said everything was fine. She'd allowed Cole to come into the château, and I could have him if he wanted me. Cole was a respectable, wealthy incubus. Fubuki didn't own Cole, and it was normal for single incubi to fuck whoever they wanted and switch girlfriends with the direction of the wind.

"So I'm allowed to have pleasure from him then?" I asked.

"Of course," Inannah answered. "The power of Cole's seed will fill you and balance your own release. We succubi and incubi are complementary, like brothers and sisters. We were born to couple with each other. Cole must give you his seed at least once by the end, however."

I told Inannah that I was tired, and I was going back to my bedchamber. I needed to sleep. I lied. I was awake all that day, feverishly writing down every amazing thing that had happened with Cole before the black tea washed the details away from me.

I was excited by Cole, and I was innocent at the same time. Cole had devastated me with a sudden initiation into sex with an incubus. Of course, I knew nothing of incubi. I didn't know that their seed was more insidious and addictive to a female than even the black nectar tea that Inannah was making me drink.

## Chapter 5. Fubuki's Bedroom

Over the following days, I took more steps on my path as a young succubus. I began to learn magic and witchcraft. Inannah taught me spells to push and pull things. She taught me to send a magical messenger bird. She explained that the bird of every succubus was unique. Inannah's bird was large and black with greyish streaks in its tail feathers. Mine was small and blue with a black crown.

During these days, I had flashes of memories—of casting the same spells in distant places and times. Inannah was concerned and ended further magic lessons until my disturbances—illusory resonant echoes she called them—went away.

I still recorded everything while secretly hiding the diary pages. Soon the pages of my diary became a larger, more interesting world than my daily life with the tea. My day consisted mostly of making myself pretty, taking slaves, and lounging around the château waiting for Cole, so I had plenty of time to brood over myself.

I constantly felt like I was losing myself, and I held onto the belief that my past was my only chance to find myself again. I was increasingly conflicted over whether to trust Inannah's story or piece my memories together for myself. I knew something wasn't right, but my ongoing love affair with my tea decided things.

Sometimes Cole would visit in the evenings around the time of the slave-taking, and I would take him instead of a slave boy. I did everything Cole wanted, and he taught me a lot of things—different positions and how to properly handle an incubus cock. Sometimes he was rough with me, but I didn't mind. I wanted his attention and the pleasure, and sometimes I just couldn't get his cock out of my head.

My little world soon turned around Cole's visits. I was infatuated with him. I practiced my new messenger bird spell by sending cute messages, begging him to come down the road from his villa to see me. I still wasn't allowed to leave the house grounds. According to my diary, I accepted this limitation without question.

I lusted for Cole more and more, and at the same time my loving desires for Mistress Inannah subsided. Cole and Fubuki-si officially broke up, and I had my first boyfriend as a young succubus. At the same time, my relationship with Fubuki had strained beyond breaking. Fubuki refused to speak with me, although she kept bringing my tea, as was her duty.

I was emotional in those days, knowing that Fubuki-si hated me just as I hated her. It was worse because we lived across the upstairs hall from one other. Inannah was concerned about my mental state, but she told me to work it out with Fubuki-si. She was busy. She didn't have time to babysit her fledglings. In Hell, the law was dominance and submission. I needed to be a cutthroat to get what I wanted.

Inannah had a lot of her own things going on. She had investments to manage. She had social visitors from town. She had letters to write and send to the capital city. She had papers to sign for the Serpent Sisterhood—the succubus military organization for which she held a post of some consequence. Inannah was also writing a book on angel slave training.

According the Inannah, the victories in the war with Heaven had produced a lot of captured angels. After two years of success in the war, the military prisons in Hell were full, and angel soldiers were getting wing-snipped and sold at auctions sponsored by Hell's army.

Inannah said her personal collection of male angel slaves had always been one of the most impressive in Hell, but it was depreciating due to the war prisoners flooding the market. She was therefore writing a definitive book on angel training, thereby profiting and bolstering her own importance in the respectable age-old tradition of angel enslavement.

I wrote that I was unwell during this time, and I had disturbing dreams. One night I suffered a fainting spell during the evening slave-taking. I woke up on the parlour floor gasping and crying for no reason. Inannah, Chadwick, and the two slave boys were gathered around me with concerned looks.

The next morning, Inannah brought a physician from the village to see me, and shortly thereafter a diagnosis was announced—the tea herbs we had on hand for my mental healing were several moons old, having been purchased the previous summer. They were losing their potency, and the physician had only a limited supply, nothing like I would need for the rest of spring.

Inannah announced that she would make a two-day trip to the capital city to re-supply the herbs and also deliver a first draft of her book to her publisher. Meanwhile, I should put on a robe in the morning with no corset and see Fubuki-si in her bedroom at the ten. I would do a morning regimen of exercises to strengthen my body. In the evening, Fubuki would bring a slave up to my bedchamber for the feeding so I wouldn't have to go to the parlour alone. With that instruction, Inannah packed her bags and left.

I didn't want to go anywhere near Fubuki, especially without Inannah in the house, but I went to Fubuki's bedchamber at the bidding of the Mistress. I didn't want to be sick. I wanted to heal. I was never going back to Heaven, so I needed to do as Inannah asked.

Fubuki's bedroom was more extravagant than mine, with a massive four-poster headed up against the center of one wall and an equally massive wardrobe next to it. Above the bed hung a burgundy tapestry embroidered with cherry blossoms and delicate tree branches delineated with loops of golden thread.

Fubuki had let her long dark hair down around her pale dollish face. She was wearing her gold kimono with pink embroidery, which matched the flowery weavings in her tapestry. Fubuki was standing by her buffet table. I watched her pour black tea from a small pot into a teacup.

"How are you feeling this morning Shar-si?" Fubuki spoke without looking at me, and she addressed me properly with my fledgling -si honorific. I responded in the same way.

"I feel fine. Thank you Fubuki-si."

"The Mistress wants to use up the old weak powder. Your tea will be double for these two days. You need strong tea. You're unstable from fucking my ex-boyfriend so much."

I was suspicious then. Fubuki's words were too calm and sweet. When I took the teacup, my fingers shook. The tea was pitch black and thick. I drank it. It was much more bitter than usual. I trembled, but I swallowed while Fubuki watched.

The familiar warmth invaded my chest, my abdomen, and my thighs in a torrent. My legs went rubbery. As Fubuki had suggested, the tea hit me strongly. I felt so light-headed that I looked down to make sure that my feet weren't floating off of the floor.

"Thank you, Fubuki-si," I managed. My throat was numb.

Fubuki curtseyed, as if she'd done me a favor. "Now we'll take off your robe. The Mistress wants you to do exercises to strengthen you."

Fubuki helped me out of my robe as if I were in a dream. I crossed my arms for warmth. Fubuki's bedroom was cool with her window cracked open to the northern Tartarus morning. "What should I do?"

"Lie on your back on the floor." Fubuki pointed. I floated down until I was horizontal, and my elder fledgling sister settled next to me. "Bend your knees and press your feet to the floor. Lift your hips into the air. Yes? Stretch your legs a little more. Good. Again. Keep going. This will strengthen your succubus muscles. You'll feel better."

"I hope so." I lifted my hips into the air as Fubuki requested. My stomach quickly burned. My legs ached, and my head swam as effort exploded the effects of the tea into my being. I kept going with an inner ferocity. I became a wave, and Fubuki contained my motions with a warm hand on my stomach. I pressed up and down against Fubuki's hand—three times, then four, and more until I moaned and lay flat.

"Good," Fubuki said. "That is called 'Flop the Fish'. It's a very old succubus technique. Now for another one. Switch to your side."

"Like this?" I turned on my side and folded my arm under my head. Fubuki took my arm and adjusted it. Her fingers felt soft and gentle on my skin.

"Your arm is like so," she said. "Then lift your leg. This is called 'Fallen Butterfly'. It will increase your strength and your ability to contain your succubus energy when my ex-boyfriend takes you."

I swallowed and placed my hand where Fubuki indicated. Fubuki was very close to me. I lifted my leg as Fubuki had ordered. I lowered it, then lifted it again and again. I was floating so much on the tea that I really felt like a fallen butterfly flapping my broken wing. I worked my leg up and down until the muscles ached in my inner thigh. Fubuki seemed pleased by my effort.

"Is that enough?" I asked.

"Yes. Switch sides now. Face me." Fubuki sat cross-legged on the floor with her kimono arranged over her lap. My eyes lingered on Fubuki's painted pouting lips and the thin black lines of her eyebrows. The tea was rushing in my ears. Fubuki's painted doll mouth was oversized in my eyes.

"You're very beautiful, Fubuki-si."

"Yes, but I don't want to hear those things."

"I was just trying to be nice," I said. "It was a compliment."

"Just don't try anything with me. The Mistress might not mind, but I do."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You tell me. How do you love the Mistress, Shar-si?" Fubuki was looking at me intensely. The moon-silver was brilliant in her wide dark eyes. "I see you looking at her. Do you often want to touch her?"

"Sometimes." I wasn't sure what to say in that moment, or how much I was willing to confide in Fubuki.

"Answer me. Tell me how you feel for the Mistress."

"I love her. She's beautiful. She's powerful. She cares for me. Sometimes I want to kiss her. Otherwise, it's none of your business."

Fubuki averted her gaze. She seemed pensive even through all of the paint and powder on her face. "Just don't try anything with me. I'm not as nice as the Mistress is, or as forgiving. Are you ready, then?"

"For what?"

"More exercises. Get down. Flop the fish."

I bit my lip. A lot of my muscles were aching from the waist down, but I did as Fubuki asked. I hadn't realized how weak I was. I lay on my back and pressed my hips upwards—three times, then five. Fubuki held her hand softly on my stomach just above the little tuft of hair on the hill of my mons. The warmth of her fingers stirred me again. My Hunger moved inside me, and my concentration broke.

"Fallen Butterfly next," Fubuki murmured. "Then your second cup of tea."

"Another cup?"

"Yes," Fubuki replied. "The Mistress said double, but I don't know if she means double strength or double cups. We will do both to be sure we don't fail her."

I turned on my side with Fubuki's guidance. I raised my leg. Fubuki counted aloud. Fubuki had a melodic voice, smooth like her long, dark silken hair. I let my leg fall. I can't say what I was thinking, but I put my hand on Fubuki's knee to steady myself and held it there. Fubuki didn't count and didn't move, only watched my hand on her knee. My need was coming out—that queer unfulfilled yearning that I hadn't yet been able to identify. The black tea intensified my desires, and the exercises made the desires worse.

I moved my hand upward to Fubuki's thigh and squeezed her leg through the folds of her kimono. Fubuki's breasts surged under her kimono as her breathing quickened. I leaned and kissed her knee. Fubuki tilted her head at me with a curious expression. A storm was brewing in Fubuki's bright silvered eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Please forgive me," I said. "I want to like you, and I want you to like me. Please let's be friends."

"You're a fool. Come. More tea, then your punishment."

Anger like cinnamon swirled through my tea-buttered feelings. I felt the urge to disobey, but I climbed to my feet anyway. I wanted another cup of tea. I couldn't help myself. Fubuki poured the cup to its brim and offered it. Her hand quivered.

"Thank you." I took the cup and lifted it to my lips. The warmth of the second cup of black tea inundated me. I drank it all, as if I hoped to just float away out of the room, out of Hell, and float all the way back to Heaven. Perhaps I would just disappear into the tea and never re-emerge as myself again.

My head ballooned, and stars of light exploded inside my eyes. I stumbled and almost fell, but Fubuki's warm hand gripped my shoulder, steadying me and keeping me from hitting the floor. She pulled me up as the room pinwheeled. I felt a strong pressure in my abdomen.

"Go to my chamber pot," Fubuki ordered. "It's there in the corner."

I needed Fubuki's help to reach the low porcelain vase. She steadied me and then left me to relieve myself. Inannah had explained that succubi did not normally eat or drink, but when they did indulge themselves, they needed to use a chamber pot like an ordinary human. I also had a pot in the corner of my room and used it once each morning after my tea.

I'd just finished urinating when the leather strap snapped across my naked rear end. I flinched. It had only been a little splinter of pain, a hairline crack in the inundation of tea-pleasure. The strap struck again harder. I was mainly focused on making a stable tripod with the chamber pot and my legs, bracing myself with my hands against the wall so I didn't tip over.

"What are you doing, Fubuki?"

"Come here."

I gasped. Fubuki grabbed my hair and pulled me up. She dragged me, but I fell to my knees, so she made me crawl across the room to her bed, where she wrapped a silk sash around my wrists and fixed me to her corner bedpost. Once I was trapped, she showered my bare back and buttocks with blows from a leather strap. I moaned and yanked futilely against my bindings.

"What did I do, Fubuki?"

"You touched me," she said. "You want to fuck me. I can see it in your eyes."

"So what if I do," I cried. "I can't help myself."

"Oh?" she said. "You can't help much at all, can you?"

Fubuki was close to me. I could smell her perfume. Her hand slid between my legs. Her fingers rubbed into my folds. I was wet. Fubuki penetrated. I fucked her hand. I was a whore. Fubuki knew just where to touch me and where to rub. She teased my clitoris between her fingertips. The clitoral pleasure met my tea pleasure, and I felt a pressure in my soul. I felt like I was going to explode.

"Yes," I groaned. "Oh, yes."

"You're like a dog begging me," Fubuki said. "A bitch. Say you're my little angel bitch. Say it."

"Yes," I groaned. "I'm a bitch. I'm your little angel bitch."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." I didn't know what Fubuki-si wanted to hear. She beat me from head to toe, pinched me, pulled my hair, and scolded me. In truth, I don't know anything of the conversation. The tide of the tea swept me away into a new world of suffering and pleasure. Fubuki fingered me and brought me to an orgasm after she'd shredded my dignity with her insults. At some point she let me crawl back across the hall to my bedchamber, and later I managed to write some the events in my diary before I collapsed into bed.

The following morning I went to Fubuki's bedroom again at the ten as the Mistress had commanded. Fubuki gave me more tea and conducted another round of exercises. I floated deliriously again, and again Fubuki beat me, stimulated me with her fingers, gave me an orgasm, and did other things that humiliated me. Sometimes she made me beg for mercy, and other times she made me beg for her to continue.

It was during those few days, when Inannah was away on business and Fubuki-si was having her perverse ways with me, that I was forced to come to grips with my black tea. It was taking my memories away. I couldn't hold onto anything in my head. I lay for hours in bed, sleeping or looking deliriously at the ceiling, trying to grasp the melting patchwork of what had happened in Fubuki's bedroom.

At the same time, I felt disturbing desires for Fubuki. She'd hurt me, but she'd made me come. She'd satisfied me. I wanted to do more things with her, and the mere thought tortured me. I wanted to kiss her between her legs, and I hated myself for it. In truth, Fubuki's fingers in my hair aroused me more than when Cole locked his fingers in my blonde strands. I assumed at the time that my lust for Fubuki was an illusion of the tea's hold on me. I couldn't have been truly aroused by her cruelty. That made no sense to me.

When Cole appeared to visit during the second night, the strange man in the house was a surprise. Such was the wicked effect of the doubled black teas that I'd almost forgotten that I was in a relationship with a male. He spoke to me, comforted me in my bed, hugged me, and told me I was beautiful. He asked me about my bruises, but I wouldn't answer him. My memories of that morning were hazy and confused by that point. He finally used me before he left.

It was a hard thing to think that the tea might be bad. I wanted it and needed it so much. Fubuki was exploiting the tea so she could do horrible things to me, and I couldn't stand for that. I became angry, and I tried to hold onto that anger. Was the tea good for me, or was it making me much worse?

I decided to put the Mistress to the test. If Inannah cared about me, then she would have to do something about Fubuki's shocking abuse. Fubuki had left marks on me from head to toe. I had indisputable proof. If Inannah loved me and valued my peace of mind, then she would punish Fubuki and keep my fledgling rival far away from me.

I assumed Fubuki hated me because I'd stolen Cole, or perhaps Fubuki was jealous because Inannah spent more time with me, took me shopping, and bought me lots of nice new clothes. Perhaps Fubuki liked to hurt me out of spite and for her own enjoyment, just like I enjoyed slapping the slave boys. As I would learn, none of those guesses were correct. I was innocent. I was naïve.

## Chapter 6. A Promise Of Vengeance

I sat at my vanity and looked into the mirror at the purple bruises from Fubuki's fingers on the side of my neck. I must have looked skinny and pale, like a little wraith in those days. Cole told me that I was beautiful, but I wrote that I had trouble seeing myself that way.

I ran the gilded hand brush through my hair. _Forty. Forty-one._ Fubuki said that I should brush my hair with at least sixty strokes each morning. I switched sides. _Forty-two_. I hoped Fubuki would bring my morning tea soon.

Inannah liked my honey blonde hair. The dressing boy had trimmed it, but it still fell down my back like Mistress Inannah's long and luxurious mane. Inannah's hair was also blonde, but mine was a richer, deeper color, whereas hers was more grey-white or titanium. Still, my hair was growing long, and in a way we looked similar. Cole told me that I looked like a little Inannah.

Inannah returned to the country, and she brought gifts for me from her visit to the capital—clothes from the best designers, including shoes and a new corset. She'd also brought a crate of other gifts—an array of finely-made beauty instruments, including brushes, pencils, red paint for my lips, perfume, and scented face powder.

The Mistress had also brought me books to read, including an illustrated and oversized _Geography Of Hell_ , and the more compact _Concise History Of The Succubi_ , which wasn't concise at all. It was a leather-bound tome of three hundred pages with protective silver fittings on its four corners.

I asked Inannah if I could speak with her in private after the evening slave-taking, but she said she needed write down some things she'd thought of during her wyrm flight, and asked if we could speak in the morning. I agreed, returned to my room after the taking, and began to read my books.

_Concise History_ detailed the birth of the succubi and their roles in Hell, the foremost of which was to marry the incubus sons of our Lord. I absorbed the pages voraciously, although I couldn't hope to remember anything, much less everything. Thirty pages appeared devoted to lineages of tutorship between mistresses and fledglings through history. Succubus history had started with Lilith and the training of the two first fledglings, Ereshkigeh and Astaarteh, who had created the foundation for all younger succubi to follow.

I recorded some facts in my diary that night. I wanted to know about the completely sexual being that I was. I wanted to know what was expected of me—what I needed to do to fit the mold. My purpose in my succubus life, as I understood it, was to serve an incubus husband faithfully and take his seed into me. I accepted this imperative. If my husband was as amazing as Cole, I was looking forward to an eternity of fucking.

I wondered if Cole might want to marry me. A few succubi were selected personally by Lilith for some more important calling, like Mistress Astaarteh in antiquity, but all others were expected to wed and take a husband—preferably an incubus and never a demon, and the wealthier and more handsome the incubus, the better.

The book made it clear that I was meant to serve as a man's wife, and cautioned against the corruption of even thinking about loving another succubus. At least, I told myself, I wasn't alone, even if my feelings for Inannah and Fubuki were abnormal and against the Lord. Long after I extinguished my lamp and went to bed, my thoughts kept turning to Inannah's words that I'd written in my diary—sometimes two succubi will engage in forbidden love anyway.

On the following morning after Inannah arrived home, I heard the familiar footsteps outside my door and the tock of the low heels of Fubuki's house sandals. The door handle rattled. I realized that I'd forgotten to unlock my door after my writing session the previous night. I opened it, and Fubuki entered my bedroom with a silver tea set.

She didn't seem annoyed by me. She sat the tray on the vanity. She poured the cup three-quarters full of sweet-smelling black tea. I took up the cup and downed the liquid while Fubuki watched. Fubuki was wearing her usual gold kimono with cherry blossom embroidery.

"Good morning," Fubuki said. "Mistress wants to see you in her office."

Fubuki took the cup from me when I finished. My enemy seemed suspiciously nice that morning, aloof and neutral towards me. I put on a silk robe and floated down the stairs with my hand tight on the railing. Inannah's office and library were off the north end of the foyer adjacent to the forbidden door. Inannah sat at her cluttered desk. She was examining a handful of papers.

The Mistress was dressed informally in a black corset that scarcely covered her nipples, with a revealing mid-thigh skirt. Her white hair was done up in a bun, and her diamond earrings took the form of simple studs. Her lips were pursed in concentration, but they bloomed into a smile when she looked up.

"Shar-si, my love. Come in."

"Good morning, Mistress," I said with a sigh. I plopped forlornly in a worn leather chair opposite the desk.

"How are you feeling?" Inannah's eyebrow arched.

"Fine."

"Excellent. I think your fresh herbs will work wonders for your health. To help you further, I've decided to give you a project to keep you busy—one that might come as a surprise, but one that will pay dividends for both of us."

"What is it?"

"As you know, I'm a collector of angel slaves, and my slaves need clothes for various occasions. My husband rarely parades his girls in public, but I like to show my boys sometimes at parties and promenades. I like them to look nice. The landscape is changing, but I'm still the _grande dame_ of angel collectors in the capital city. My slaves reflect on me just like my fledglings. So I have a task for you."

"What is it?"

"I'm on a local committee to get a winter show together here in Apertura Arroyo, and it looks like the first show will happen next year. I'd like you to make some show clothes for the boys here at the château. You can start this spring and finish next fall. I've brought up everything from the city house in Dis, and I've set you up in one of the first floor guest bedrooms. You're going to sew. Every succubus must practice an art form. Perhaps clothes-making can be yours."

I tongued the bitter taste of tea from my teeth. "Do I know sewing? I don't remember anything about sewing."

"All angel girls know how to sew. It will come back to you. Fubuki and Paulo will help you. It's settled then. You and Fubuki will work together on making some things."

"Do you have measurements?"

"I'll get them." Inannah winked. "Come, fledgling. I'll show you to your workspace."

"Thank you, Mistress."

Inannah circled the desk. She caressed my cheek, then took my hand. I took a deep breath as she helped me up. I hadn't realized how tense I was, despite the pacifying effect of my morning tea. I was floating. I followed Inannah out of the office and down the foyer into the front spare room directly across from the parlour. A long table had been set up between the two curtained windows that gave a view of the front driveway, where a stable boy was cleaning one of Inannah's carriages in the sunlight.

An array of things were laid out on the table—bolts of cloth, a sewing box, measurement tapes, scissors, and every other tailoring implement I could conceivably think of given my condition. A few stools sat next to the makeshift sewing table.

"I have fine linen cloth and threads," Inannah said. "You'll have to come up with a better materials list. Whatever you need, I'll send Fubuki-si into the village to pick it up. If they don't have it in the shops, we'll try to get it delivered from Dis. In fact, if you need anything, just tell Fubuki-si directly."

I bit my lip and frowned. "I don't know."

"Is there something wrong, fledgling?"

"No."

"Shar-si, look at me." Mistress Inannah pinched my chin and turned my head. Her moon-silver grey eyes bored into mine. "I'm an ambassador for Hell. I've personally negotiated with archangels, and I've entertained business relationships with renegade vampire lords. Scheming bastards are those. In centuries past, before the current war, I mediated treaties with Heaven and the isles of the Fey. I can usually tell when someone is lying, especially an angel. Tell me the truth. What's bothering you?"

"It's Fubuki-si," I blurted. "I can't work with her."

"Why not?"

"She hates me. Practically everything she says to me is an insult. She punished me horribly while you were away." I began to shudder and sob then. I burst into tears that streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't help it. I felt embarrassed and wretched.

"For what did she punish you?"

I blinked. "Does it matter? Because I stole her boyfriend from her, I guess. I can show you the marks. I don't remember much of what happened." I lifted my dress up to my hips and bent over to show Inannah the stripes. I felt a tickle. Inannah gently caressed my buttock. Her hand was cool on my hot wounded skin.

"I didn't give Fubuki-si permission to punish my second fledgling. Would you like me to talk with her?"

"Yes," I said. "Please tell her to stop hurting me."

"That's it? That's all?" Inannah's tone was ice cold. "Surely you want more than that, Shar-si. Aren't you furious with her? Don't you hate her as much as she hates you? Tell me how you really feel, fledgling. We are succubi, you and I. We should feel the fullest power of our deepest passions."

Inannah's moon-silver was bright in her eyes, and her eyes looked big as she stared at me. I could _feel_ my anger flooding into me then, the more I thought about it. I hated Fubuki. I clenched my fists so hard with my anger that my fingernails dug painfully into my palm.

"Yes. I hate Fubuki-si. I hate her so much. Sometimes I think about beating her with that cane she left in the corner of my room, or even stabbing it into her eye and killing her with it."

Inannah drew me forward for a warm hug. "That's better. I love you very much, my fledgling. I'll make you a deal. I'll speak with Fubuki-si and give her a chance to apologize and stop. If she hurts you once more, however, I promise you'll have all the vengeance you want."

"Thank you, Mistress. I love you too."

The Mistress held me for long moments then, as I noted in my diary later. The seconds stretched on, and I breathed her scent, aware of her deshabille and her breasts and bared thighs pressed against me. Finally she let me go, and her voice was low and throaty. " I'm so happy that I've taken you under my wing so I can mold you into realizing your potential. I'll see if Paulo can find some soothing balm for those stripes on your backside."

I couldn't meet Inannah's eyes when she disengaged from me. The intense emotions in my body had sent my tea-floating head to buzzing. I didn't want Inannah to go in that moment. I keep the warm connection that still hung in the space between us.

I wanted throw myself on her and kiss her wide, agile lips—those lips that spoke so perfectly, commanding me and teaching me. I wanted those lips to shape my body as well as my life. I wanted to demand that Fubuki-si die as a consequence of hurting me. Only that would prove that Inannah truly loved me. I didn't say or do anything.

Inannah left the room, presumably going to go see Fubuki. I couldn't decide whether to love or hate my beloved Mistress. My anger had subsided, and once again I was vague and floating in my pleasant tea-pleasure. I breathed deeply of Inannah's perfume, which still hung in the air.

I examined the bolts of cloth and the sewing box. It seemed hopeless, and my mind was on my Mistress. I didn't know where to begin. Paulo came and helped me. We went to work, first cutting the white cloth based on the pattern. Inannah had been right about my sewing skills. While at first it was frustrating, the work came naturally to me. Soon I was doing an inseam like I'd done it a hundred times before. Even the pattern as a whole seemed familiar to me.

That night, something unusual happened—Fubuki came from her bedchamber to join us for the evening slave-taking. Inannah brought up three angel boy slaves on leashes as usual. Fubuki shadowed the Mistress into the parlour. One of the boys was Paulo himself. I'd felt his caramel eyes on me all afternoon.

Inannah waved nonchalantly at the curved red divan on the left. "Your place can be there, Shar-si. You can take Paulo."

"Why can I never choose which one I want?" I asked.

"Perhaps next time," Inannah replied.

"I suppose he'll be fine." I settled myself on the divan with a shrug and a resigned sigh. I wanted Paulo just fine. I was only playing with the slave's mind and re-asserting my place over him. Inannah had warned me to never grow soft and let slaves forget their place. Unfortunately, I'd needed Paulo's assistance and tutelage for my sewing all day.

Paulo's cock was already semi-aroused. My succubus Hunger sprang up in my belly just from his proximity. I grasped Paulo's cock, reclined on the divan, and pulled him down. I threw my legs around his hips and my arms around his shoulders. I pulled his chest against mine, feeling every inch of his skin that I could come into contact with. We kissed for a little bit and enjoyed some foreplay. He nestled his head against my shoulder and pleasured my neck with his tongue for a minute. He was sweet and attentive to me.

As a reward for Paulo's tenderness, I seized his nipple and pinched. He groaned. I pulled to get my message across. He centered himself and entered me without further hesitation. I ground my hips into the angel slave boy. He was obviously trying to please me, making extra efforts to bump my clitoris with his strokes.

I could see Fubuki past Paulo's shoulder. Fubuki shucked her yellow kimono from her willowy frame, neatly folded it into thirds, and draped it over the back of her chair. I couldn't help but stare with envy at my enemy. Fubuki in the nude was a vision of beauty. Her figure was perfect. I couldn't find a single detail or curve that was out of place or badly proportioned. She was a little thinner and less muscled than me, and at the same time a little taller. She had a flat stomach and smallish breasts, which were her only possible flaw depending on preference, and a navel bejeweled with a citrine.

Fubuki splayed her spindle legs, and her slave boy obscured my view when he knelt. Fubuki guided his head down to venerate her pink slit with his tongue. Fubuki wore yet another gem in the lip of her sex—a small diamond to match the one in her nostril.

Meanwhile, Inannah was also lying back in one of the arm chairs with the head of her slave boy firmly pressed between her thighs. She'd outfitted her slave with headgear—a harness for his head with blinders like a horse, the better to focus him on venerating the sacred space between her legs.

Inannah had explained vénération to me. It was a succubus technique of long term persuasiveness and domination. A slave would consume the fluids of his Mistress, and her liquors would have a similar effect on him as incubus seed to a female, but to a lesser extent. The effect depended upon the time of the moon. Inannah and Fubuki's peak times for vénération coincided.

I felt Paulo shudder then. He was well-trained and already close to his release. I reached low with my psychic suction and tugged the slave boy's cock like a pet on a rope, sending Paulo over the edge into loss of control. I conducted him into his orgasm and drained his energy from him. My succubus Hunger was ravenous from that day's spent energy.

I held Paulo quietly for a while against me while the remnants of his angel boy love collected in him for his second tumble. I watched Inannah and Fubuki as they advanced into their own coitus stages with their slaves, almost in unison. I watched them for a while, especially Fubuki, until Paulo began kissing my neck again.

"Let me please you," he whispered.

The dressing boy pulled down to suckle at my nipple. I gasped. I had very sensitive nipples. I pushed Paulo back. I revolved on the divan, slipped down until my knees touched the floor, and strategically arranged my towel. I pressed my head into the cushions of the divan. I presented my backside and slapped my rump commandingly. I wasn't in the mood for playing around with a slave boy.

Within seconds I felt a stiffening. Paulo rubbed against my anus, and I clenched with surprise, thinking he would enter, but he poked lower and worked himself up to again give me his devotion. I heard Fubuki moan softly and looked over my shoulder. Fubuki's slave was thrusting into her, but Fubuki wasn't looked down at him.

A chill ran down my back. Fubuki was looking straight at me. Her eyes were lidded and dangerous, like a viper. If Inannah had scolded Fubuki that afternoon, I realized then that the result had been far from penitent. Fubuki looked like she wanted to cross the room and smack me.

I felt a warmth of nervousness and jolted out of rhythm. Paulo's cock popped out and rubbed pleasantly in my crevice before he entered me again. I turned my head away from Fubuki so the first fledgling couldn't see that she'd rattled me. I fixed my eyes on Chadwick. Chadwick bowed shortly and lowered his eyes. He was a well-trained older slave.

Paulo fucked me for almost forever, and I became so relaxed in my position that I almost let myself go before I fiercely applied my suction and ended it by coaxing Paulo's cock. He surrendered the last remnants his sweet angel boy love. Fubuki finished her first round when I was finishing my second. Fubuki relaxed with her boy. He knelt and kissed her leg gently while she ignored him and examined a book of spring fashion plates that Inannah had brought back from the capital.

I hoped Fubuki wouldn't hurt me ever again. I hoped Inannah's reprimand would sink into Fubuki's skull. In the darkest part of my heart, however, I almost wanted Fubuki to try something, because if she did, I'd finally have my vengeance. Inannah had made a promise, and I'd repeated that promise over and over to myself while sewing.

## Chapter 7. A Ride And A Surprise

For some days, I didn't see Fubuki much. I stopped going to my morning exercises. Fubuki stopped coming to my bedroom to give me beauty lessons. Neither of us said anything to each other. Fubuki still delivered my tea to my room in the morning and evening, and that was all I saw of her.

During this time, I took a habit of night-swimming in the garden pool under the reddish north Tartarus moon. The cool waters smelled faintly of sulfur, but the liquid comforted my hot emotions, and the buoyancy of my body enhanced my floaty tea-feelings. I enjoying drifting and looking up at the moon, especially in the phase when it was red.

I asked Inannah about the changes of the moon. She explained that while succubi did not bleed like human women, our inner cycles still echoed our mother Lilith, the queen of Hell. Lilith was a dark titaness from the stars, and her fertility echoed the movements of the heavens. The phases of the Tartarus moon created our Lady's short cycles of lust and Hunger between Her grand annual heats of spring, and served as a constant reminder for us to honor our goddess and the titanic matrix from which all succubi came, except for those who Lilith had gifted with a special transformation, like one particular fallen angel.

I couldn't seem to adore Lilith as fervently as Inannah, perhaps because I hadn't been birthed by Her nor lived as a young succubus handmaiden in Lilith's Court. I hadn't suckled Lilith's milk until I was old enough to join Hell's society as a fledgling, and I had no memory of Lilith honoring me personally for my service as a spy and defector from Heaven.

I regretted that I couldn't bear children like Lilith, nonetheless, or so I declared to Inannah, because if I bore Master Cole's child, perhaps he would love me and marry me. I stopped short of mentioning that I felt neglected by my boyfriend, who was visiting less and less. I knew the Mistress wanted me to be a strong succubus, and I was afraid that I complained too much.

One morning Master Cole invited me to go horseback riding in the countryside. Mistress Inannah had a stable with horses and so did Master Cole. I thought Inannah wouldn't want me to go, but to my surprise, she seemed as eager as I was.

Inannah assured me that I knew how to ride a horse, although I wasn't sure how I would have ever learned. Were there horses in Heaven? Surely not, although I understood that lots of things in Hell had hooves, including demons and elder succubi like Inannah.

The Mistress furnished me with black wool riding pants, feminine black gloves of the finest kid leather, and an ironed white riding shirt with flounced sleeves—all of which belonged to Fubuki. Fubuki's riding pants were tight on my rear end, and her shirt hugged my breasts just as much.

Inannah told me to wear a tight corset so my tits would show to best appearance, and my tits definitely did. I was afraid Fubuki's shirt buttons would pop, and I'd anger my rival fledgling yet again.

The Mistress seemed unconcerned. She preened over me like a mother. She complimented my riding outfit and made me feel so beautiful that I could hardly wait for Master Cole to throw me down, ravish me, and give me his thick, wonderful, heated seed. At the last minute, Inannah also furnished me with a slender sheathed sword to wear for my protection.

"You're giving me a sword, Mistress?" I said in shock. "Is it dangerous out there?"

"Yes," Inannah answered in a serious tone. "There are wild beasts in the Tartarus wastes, as well as escaped slaves, renegade Gypsies, occasional vampires or werewolves, and other things that like to interfere with the more respectable people in Hell. Cole will not hesitate to kill them on the spot, and neither should you."

The sword on my waist was a strange thing. It unbalanced me and disturbed me in the familiar way that touched upon my missing memories. I tried to ignore the weight of the sword. I tried to focus instead on my desire to enjoy myself with Cole.

As Inannah had promised, I had no trouble riding the horse. Cole gave me pointers while we took a winding dirt road away from the village outskirts. Cole looked dashing with his polished black boots, long red coat, and black cravat. He carried a sleek silver-plated gunne with a long barrel and a polished wooden stock. He showed it off to me with a grin, and at one point he took a shot at something in the underbrush. I pulled my sword, and Cole laughed at me. He said it was nothing.

The countryside was scrubby with thorn trees and bushes. Many things in Hell had hooves, but even more things had thorns. There were green beetles that lived on the plants, and the beetles had thorns on them, the better to blend in with the general thorniness. The most interesting plants were the thorny trees that hissed in the wind. When the wind blew strongly, the entire rocky landscape was set to hissing. I asked Cole about the trees. He said they were called cobra-leaf trees. He said the trees were harmless, but I could get bitten by the creatures that lived in them.

After an hour or so of easy riding, we came to the edge of a sandy precipice. The view of the dunes beyond the precipice was magnificent. Cole said we were viewing the Mare Mortis—a desert sea that covered the northwest vastnesses of Tartarus beyond the coastal resort villages. Ripples and swells of sand stretched to the horizon, interspersed with flats of cracked mud that gave rise to dust spumes in the gritty wind. Cole said no one lived out on the Mare except tribes of ogres, horribly deformed demons, and human souls who had outlived their usefulness, but whose owners hadn't sent them to the void.

Storm clouds rose distant over the Mare, and pale green spider lightning played between them. On the highest hill on those deserted shores, we stopped and made a little camp on an exposed bald top. We could see across Tartarus in all directions, as well as back across the terrain to Apertura Arroyo. It was a beautiful place.

Cole laid a blanket down. We kissed, petted, and became more and more horizontal. It was a little thrill to wear Fubuki's clothes while fucking her old boyfriend. Cole's hands were rough that day. He unbuttoned my shirt, gripped my breasts, and pulled my nipples above the rim of my corset. He pinched my sensitive nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. When my nipples firmed for him, he reached into his trouser pocket.

Small metal contraptions gleamed, and Cole pressed them to my chest before my nipples could retreat into my corset again. I cried out with shock and pain when Cole released the spring on the first clip, locking my nipple inside a cylindrical steel disc. A strange chill seized my breast, and I felt an odd quiver.

Cole placed the second clip on my other nipple, and the sensations doubled. My heart thumped wildly and my spine jangled. Cole pushed down on each clip and tucked my clipped nipples back into my corset cups, imprisoning them firmly in their misery and leaving only the adjustment screws visible.

"What are those?" I whimpered. "They hurt so much."

Cole smiled at me. "You've heard the story of the nymph named Echo?"

"No. Please take them off."

"Not yet. I know they hurt tucked into your corset, but you'll be glad for that when I'm having you."

Cole ignored my protests and planted hard kisses on the soft stretches of my belly where the hem of my corset ended. The kisses formed a circuit with my clipped nipples, and ripples of pleasure waved through my chest. My heart thumped erratically in response, and then my entire breasts began to jump and twitch. Pain shot through my nipples anew, but the pleasure from Cole's lips defused the discomfort.

"What's happening?" I tried to not let fear tinge my voice, but my chest was filled with strange spasms that echoed through my body, sending flutters through my muscles. My neck clenched and clenched again. My heart hammered. I gasped when the muscles in my stomach rattled, and I could feel it in my womb.

"Those are magical Echo clips," Cole said. "They were invented by a sorceress in the eighteenth century. I recently purchased this antique pair. They capture your own kinetic energy, magnify it, and send it back into your breasts as pure energy. You should feel it all the way down when I fuck you. Until then breathe shallowly, lie on your back, and don't move a muscle. Don't try to get up."

I immediately did as Cole ordered, and the pulses and spasms lessened until the sensations were bearable. Cole slowly took my riding pants off of me. I felt exposed in the open, naked from the waist down. My sex was bared to the sky and whatever ogres and demons from the Mare who might have been watching. I lay perfectly still while Cole tasted me. His tongue was rough on my clit, wet between my folds, and warm. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fill me. I loved Inannah, but Cole was a more uncontrollable yearning.

"I know," he said. "I'm playing a dangerous game between your legs."

"Why?" I breathed quietly.

"A little vénération is only fair play since you're taking my seed." He winked at me. "You're so cute when you play like you're naïve."

I realized he was speaking of the influence of my fluids on his mind, but it was hard to think with his tongue inside me, and I was trying to remain as still as a statue. A wind sprang up, borne from the distant storm. It sent the vegetation to rustling and the cobra-leaf trees to hissing. The hisses formed a chorus over the promontory. I was far from an orgasm from Cole's tongue, and his fingers held little of Fubuki's skills.

"Now I want you to flip over very, very slowly and get on all fours," Cole ordered.

"Yes, sir." I did as asked, rotating slowly in Cole's hands. Every shift of my chest sent a frightening spasm through my breasts, emanating from the little metal clips. I turned onto one elbow, gasped at the sensation, and finally landed on my other elbow. I twisted my lower body, and Cole helped me up onto my knees. When my breasts shifted under me, queer waves rippled from the clips, which had turned slightly more painful as my nipples swelled and sensitized in them. The weight of my breasts increased the pent-up pressure.

I felt Cole's hand on my sacrum and his thumb in the hollow of my anus. The head of his cock nudged between the cheeks of my ass. He penetrated my wetness with a slow thrust, and I whimpered as my breasts bumped, sending a wave through them that rippled up to my neck and down through my stomach muscles. Cole withdrew and pushed in again, bumping me, and my breasts bounced slightly in their cups, and another wave jolted through my front side, this time reaching farther to tingle up to my jaw and down to my sex.

Cole began a slow rhythm, fucking me each time more deeply, and I cried out as the weight of my breasts bounced in time with each thrust. Cole quickened and opened up. He fucked me hard like an animal, and the resulting pulses from the Echo clips pounded through the core of my body. The restriction of my corset seemed to channel the energy, sending it down to my sex and pushing me halfway to the precipice of my first orgasm with a few seconds.

"Ah, ah, ah—"

I tried to cry out, but the rhythmic jolts rose up to my throat and hit my vocal chords, choking my every attempt at making a word. I arched and screamed silently when my orgasm hit, sending an after-echo of jolts down the core of my body like an earthquake.

"There you go," Cole said. "You're so beautiful. I can feel those waves hitting your cunt."

"Y, y, y—"

He fucked me harder, and the magical pulses wracked me. I let my head loll. The muscles around my neck were cramping. I couldn't breathe. Cole seized my hair in his hand and pulled my head back again to help me, and I was suddenly able to breathe again, even as the pulses kept pounding through me, echoing like hammers through my body with every jolt of Cole's cock.

Cole came more quickly than ever before, and when he released me, I fell and lay face down and shuddering for long minutes. The backsides of both of my thighs were cramped, and my buttocks still quivered as if echoes had been trapped there. Cole lay on top of me, sheltering me and keeping me still. His hand slid between my buttocks and massaged my swollen clit for long minutes, and I was so open that I came for the first time just from his fingers.

I curled my toes in agony when Cole's hand slid under my chest, turned the screw, and un-wedged an Echo clip from my nipple. He tilted me and removed the other, and when I was free, I sat up and hugged him more tightly than I'd ever hugged anyone.

I gazed at the distant storm as it drifted slowly closer over the wastes of Tartarus. My body felt like I'd been beaten with clubs, but I was in desperate love. Cole's incubus seed was like a powerful magnet in my belly. I needed to be against him. He pressed me gently back and grinned at me. "You enjoyed the clips?"

"Yes, but no. It was too much. I'd do it again for you if you really want. I love you so much. I don't want this day to be over."

"Quando ì fui preso, et non me ne guardai, chè i bè vostr'occhi, donna, mi legaro," Cole intoned.

I frowned. "What's that mean? I don't understand."

"It's Petrarch, from his poems to Madonna Laura. I recently went to see one of Petrarch's public recitals in the capital city. Sometimes his succubus owner allows him to recite poetry in Italian. Petrarch lived a love unrequited on Earth, and when he went to Hell, his soul mate went to Heaven, separating him from her for all eternity. He still loves her, but his impossible love serves his new mistress well enough. His mistress is a sorceress, and she takes Laura's form to torture him, or so they say. Are you sure you love me as much as you think, Shar-si?"

"Yes," I said recklessly without hesitation. Flush with my sex-fever, I pressed against him. "I could be with you forever. Every succubus must have a wedding—a glorious one like in the _Concise History Of The Succubi_. I must choose an incubus to wed, and I want my husband to be you. I swear to Lilith that I'll love you and do whatever you want."

Cole kissed me, held me, and eased me down sweetly. He explained that mere fledglings weren't ready to marry—only fully-fledged succubus mistresses could wed. I still had a long way to go with my training. I had to learn an art form. I had to acquire and train my own slave. I had to pass a Mistress Test as determined by Inannah. Only then would I be ready to marry.

Cole suggested that we could possibly marry some day after I graduated from fledgling status. The training of a succubus fledgling by tradition took decades. Some fledglings took centuries to graduate. He assured me that there was no hurry.

I was depressed after that. Cole recited the rest of Petrarch's poem for my brooding pleasure. The wedding restriction on fledglings was a detail that I didn't remember from my succubus book. Evidently I'd forgotten it, or it was a tradition so common that the book assumed that every succubus knew. I felt like a fool.

I hung onto Cole until he said we needed to leave. The storm and the spider-lightning were drifting closer over the Mare Mortis. We took one last look at the vast cloud-shadowed dunes, and we rode back home. I didn't want the trip to be over, but in one way I was glad. I was sweaty, gritty, and my muscles were knotted. I badly needed a hot, relaxing bath.

Cole kissed me goodbye when we parted ways on the drive outside Inannah's stable. His kisses were very sensual. I was floating a little bit when I re-entered the house, without even drinking my tea. I made my way upstairs, intent on changing my clothes and going to the bath. I'd hardly entered my bedroom when I received a messenger bird. It landed on my shoulder and spoke in Inannah's voice.

Come down the hall and see me.

I hoped I wasn't in trouble for anything. The door to Inannah's bedchamber resulted to be half-open. I peeked inside. Inannah was sprawled in candlelight on her massive four-posted bed. I stepped forward and pushed the door almost closed. The Mistress smiled faintly at me. Inannah was lying in nude splendor. "Do you think I'm beautiful, fledgling?"

"Yes," I answered. "Very." I was in a bit of shock. I gazed shamelessly at the Mistress. I'd never seen her devoid of all clothing. She bathed alone and always wore a corset at a minimum during the evening slave-takings in the parlour. I almost forgot Cole in that moment.

"Take off your clothes and lie with me, my fledgling," Inannah said. "Let's rest together as two well-taken succubi."

Paulo appeared from nowhere, as if he'd been waiting, and he helped me out of my dusty riding pants, shirt, and corset. I climbed into bed with the Mistress. "Were you well-taken too, Mistress? Did you bring up some of the boys?"

"No. I took a nap this afternoon and traveled through the dream world to spend time with my husband." Inannah chuckled. "I went to secretly spy on him, but he surprised me by being asleep in the middle of the day. He caught me in the dream world, took me, and left me full his dream-seed."

"Your husband took you in a dream? I don't understand. Is that real?"

"Oh, yes." Inannah smiled at me, her eyes sultry. "A succubus can feed her Hunger through the dream world, and an incubus can spread his seed that way too. It's how we intercourse with humans on Earth and begin to seduce them into serving as our slaves. Perhaps next time I'll take you with me through the dream world to visit my husband in the city of Dis. You're not quite ready for dream-travel on your own, but it would be a good lesson for you."

I wondered why Inannah was spying on her devil husband, but I didn't pester her with more questions. I just wanted to curl alongside my Mistress with my head on a pillow. I watched her silvery eyes, her cheeks, and every nuance of her lips, trying to find a sign of her intentions for me in her bed.

Inannah idly stretched her arm and caressed my forehead. She ran her fingertips softly through my hair, which was loose and smelling of the sulfurous dust from the stony Mare promontory. Inannah's diamond-studded fingernails glinted in the candlelight. She scratched my temple. The bedchamber was silent except for the distant tick of the clock on the half-column in the outer hall.

I didn't want to touch Inannah for fear of a reprimand, but I finally dared to stretch my hand forward and caress the ripples of Inannah's bared ribs. I made small circles on her skin, and she reciprocated. Her fingers explored the vulnerable hollows of my neck. The sensation was disconcerting and made me feel submissive.

I touched the soft undercurve of Inannah's breast with my knuckles. I ventured further, pushing my fingers into the warm crease there where her large breast overflowed her chest. I stared at Inannah's tan breast in profile. I noticed her skin was blemished. Faint raised lines criss-crossed everywhere, intermingling with the faintest discolorations.

Inannah's stomach and ribs too appeared laden with old scars like the asses of the more recalcitrant slave boys. The scars laced all of her skin where her corset would normally cover. I was trying to understand the puzzle of the scars on Inannah's chest when her free hand crossed over her body to close around my wrist.

The Mistress pulled me closer. I shifted forward and put my head on the soft underside of her arm. She half-embraced me. I wanted to kiss Inannah so much. Her mouth wasn't far from my lips. Instead, we met eyes for a while. She guided my hand again to the upslope of her breast. Her skin was hot under my hand.

"I want to kiss you," I said quietly. Paulo had left the bedchamber, but I couldn't be sure if someone wasn't eavesdropping outside the ornamented rococo door.

"Not today," Inannah whispered. "I want you to help me with something instead."

"As you wish, Mistress."

Inannah turned away and sat at the edge of her bed for a few seconds. She opened the drawer of her bedside table and returned with a strip of leather several inches long. Small slits had been cut in the leather, and the slits held curved metal hooks that were some five to six centimeters in length. Inannah removed two hooks from the leather strip and handed one to me.

"Here," she said. She lay on her back, looked up at the coffered bedchamber ceiling, and pinched a fold of the skin of her right breast. I struggled to wrap my mind around what she meant. "Push it through my skin," Inannah added. "Do it slowly. Be careful not to hurt yourself with the tip."

The hook was extremely sharp. After a minute of hesitation, I pressed the end of it to Inannah's flesh. When it penetrated, a thrill of horror ran through me.

"I can't do this."

"You can and will. This is an order, not a request."

I kept pushing until the metal hook went through and emerged with a droplet of Inannah's blood. My hand trembled. Inannah released her pinch, closed her eyes, and stretched on the bed. The imbedded hook flexed but remained lodged solidly.

"It hurts, doesn't it? I don't want to hurt you, Mistress."

"Get another one," Inannah said thickly. "Put it next to the first. I was bad to go spying on my devil husband. He ordered me to punish myself, and so I must."

Inannah didn't help me this time. She made me pinch her skin myself and push the hook through. Inannah moaned. Her eyelids fluttered. Her long pale lashes closed. Her face registered mingled pleasure and pain. She reached low. My own heat stirred then between my legs. Inannah started playing with herself, rubbing her long fingers quickly up and down between her thighs.

I lay quietly with my head next to Inannah's shoulder. I listened to her breaths increasing. Inannah's breasts and chest were thoroughly scarred up to the faint indentation where the rim of her corset had left a print. The old faint scars almost looked like an imprinted pattern from Inannah's tight corset, but there were too many lines and ridges going in too many directions.

Finally Inannah shuddered and had her orgasm. She turned and curled against me. Her strong left thigh pushed between mine, and her hard hoof trapped my ankle. Her fetlocks tickled and my legs fell open. Inannah entwined so tightly against me that I could feel the hooks in her breast when they pressed on my arm. I was afraid the hooks would prick me. I could feel the intense heat of Inannah's lust. Inannah's power had always been palpable to me. Her sexual energy made my skin buzz and tingle.

Inannah reached and found the leather strip where it lay on the bed. She removed a third hook and pushed me onto my back. Her fingers were damp and sea-scented from her masturbation.

I wrote in my diary that it was everything that I'd been wanting for so long, within the tethers of my memory, except for the thin hook, which Inannah quickly gifted me with. She pushed it through my pale skin just above my nipple where the rim of my corset ended.

Inannah paired the first hook with a second one, which was again accompanied by a flush of intense pain. I moaned and whimpered. The two hooks in my breast were like the fangs of a snake that had latched onto me. Then Inannah took my hand in hers and dragged it low past where her thigh lay on mine. She pushed my hand onto my vulva. I could guess what she wanted.

"Can you do it?" I said. "Please?"

"No," Inannah replied. "This way we aren't breaking our Lord's laws against love between two succubi. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to misunderstand."

Inannah's hand was on top of mine, giving my fingers energy. I stroked myself, and Inannah stroked the back of my hand in turn, occasionally dipping and rubbing into the crevices between my sex and thighs as if accidentally.

The fingers of the Mistress entwined intimately with mine, with her wrist resting on my hip and her little finger tickling my inner thigh. These simple things gave me more pleasure than anything I could do alone with myself.

I forced a _petite mort_ after a few minutes. I'm sure I didn't know that expression then, but I learned it since. The succubi have their own extended vocabulary for sex and sensual events. Some of these words and phrases are in French. In this case, based on my diary entry, I described a _petite mort_ , or a small orgasm wrung from over-tight nerves and corseted tension. This type of orgasm comes a nervous, rebellious, or shy slave, or from a succubus who is trying not to lose her energy, but comes anyway.

Inannah took her hand away, and I lay there for a long time with her as the hooks continued to throb with a pain that didn't diminish. I finally dared to pull them out of my own accord. Inannah stirred and indicated that I should place the hooks on the side table and take care not to get blood on her bedsheets.

The Mistress removed her own hooks in turn. She bent and licked the punctures on my breast, which gave me a thrill. Inannah invited me to do the same for her, and I licked her skin with my heart pounding. Then I lay there again next to Inannah, savoring the salty taste of her blood on my tongue. When Inannah's taste went away, I turned and licked again for more. I dared to lick higher until I tasted her nipple. I suckled. She sighed with pleasure, and then gently pushed my head away.

We dozed together while the storm blew outside and the spider-lightning flickered, bathing the curtained windows with plays of greenish light. My mind went back to Cole, and I decided that day had been the happiest day of my young succubus life. Inannah and I rose when the day went dark and the time came for the evening slave-taking. The Mistress pressed against me and kissed me softly on my temple. She said I'd done well.

My likening of the hooks to the fangs of a snake had been uncannily correct. Inannah explained that the serpent bite punishment was a technique since the earliest days of the succubi, when Lilith had inflicted thirteen bites on Ereshkigeh, who had endured them for an entire moon cycle. Military recruits in the present day Serpent Sisterhood were gifted with a set of hooks to employ when they failed to live up to expectations.

When Inannah and I descended the foyer stairs, the Mistress patted my shoulder and pushed me away. I still wasn't allowed to accompany Inannah through the door into the mysterious pit under the house to retrieve the evening's menu of male slaves.

I felt a renewed frustration over the fact that Inannah had hurt me with the hooks and then spurned me from the forbidden door. I was reminded vaguely of the boy with brown eyes—the boy that I still hadn't snuck down and looked for yet. I was also reminded of my theory that Inannah was hiding things from me.

I passed the steward and went into the parlour. I took a towel from Chadwick and spread it out on the divan. I took my seat there, clad only in my corset. I sniffed my arm. I'd forgotten that I needed a bath. I asked Chadwick to have hot water drawn while I was taking my slave. I assumed Inannah would find it acceptable.

Inannah emerged from the pit with three leashed boys. We prayed to the Lord and the Lady, and then I stole love from my boy with passion and abandon. My Hunger felt wild, like a huntress that night. My injured left breast ached when it bounced in its silk-lined restraints. The twin punctures were little badges of courage and iniquity. My nipples ached too from the Echo clips.

The mingled pains drove me. I'd shared dark intimacies with Inannah, things that both thrilled me and terrified me. I'd shared things with Cole too, confessing fully how I felt about him. I felt like exciting things were about to happen in my succubus life. After the evening feeding, I went back to my bedchamber and wrote down everything.

My diary entries in these days show I was wrapped up in fantasies. My intimacies with Inannah suddenly meant everything to me, since Cole had told me there could be no wedding with him, at least not for decades. I'd gone as far as I could with Cole, and although sex with him was incredible, I couldn't get the love from him that I wanted.

I thought I was brave and smart for restraining my desires for him. I adored Cole, but he was only playing with me like he had with Fubuki. I assumed that he would leave me soon for another girl. Well, perhaps I would leave him for another girl too. If only I could.

After midnight that night, when the moon shone through my window to mingle with the ebbing candlelight, I convinced myself that I was in love with Inannah, and that she secretly loved me. Why else had she been with me like that in her bedroom? She was lonely. Her husband had ordered her to punish herself, so she'd probably been angry at him. If she was spying on him, then that surely meant she didn't trust him. Perhaps Archduke Asmodai was having affairs with other succubi in the big city.

Inannah's simple words still echoed in my head, confusing me and maddening me—the reply that Inannah had given me when I'd asked to kiss her on the lips. _Not today._

## Chapter 8. The Pink Horse

The next morning, I thought again about the scene between Inannah and me. Cole was one thing, but the arms of another woman stirred me to special, more intense places. A phrase came to my head, and I quickly locked my door and pulled out my diary before my tea came and washed the thought away.

Women were for love and men were for lust. That was how I wanted to live my succubus life. I preferred such a life to not involve hooks in my skin, but I was wrapped up in Inannah. I wanted to understand her secrets. I wanted to understand why she did the things that she did.

A few evenings later, my intimacy with Inannah deepened when she opened her bedchamber door again to show me more about her private life. I was lying in my bed reading that night when Inannah's blackbird scratched at the bird slit above my door. It swooped across the room and landed as usual on my shoulder.

Come down the hall. First get ready for bed.

I stirred and closed my book with a rush of excitement. It was late in the evening, a few hours after the slaves had been put away. Paulo had already helped me out of my corset, and I was dressed only in my nightgown. I wondered what Inannah might want from me.

My breast was still tender from the hooks, but the wounds had mostly healed. Was she planning to do them again? I didn't want them, but I felt sure that whatever happened, the Mistress would take things further. She always took things further.

I went to my vanity and brushed my hair. I wasn't sure if I should paint my face. I opted for a little red on my lips, just a blush, to make my mouth more desirable in case Inannah would consider kissing me. I was ready for anything when I entered her candlelit bedroom at the far end of the upstairs hall.

Inannah wasn't nude. She was lying on her bed in a white nightgown that reached her thighs. Her long white-blonde hair fell undone and loose over both of her shoulders. Her face was lightly powdered and her lips, which she often painted black, were _au natural_. She pointed silently to the bedside table. A teacup was sitting there. I walked up and drank the contents immediately. I expected to taste black, so the liquid surprised me. It was thicker and sweeter than tea, and didn't hit me with the usual pleasure.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A nightshade crush," Inannah answered. "Now come into bed with me. You'll see."

"Fine." I climbed up into Inannah's bed and lay down next to her. She turned onto her elbow and lifted her warm body over me. I pressed upwards, responding to the weight and the press of Inannah's soft breast against my arm. By Lady Lilith, I longed to kiss her. I wanted to be entwined with her. I wanted everything, and for a few seconds I dared to expect it. I raised my lips for a kiss, but Inannah had only shifted over me to blow out the candle on my side table, as if I couldn't have done it myself.

I glimpsed a smile on Inannah's lips. She retreated to blow out the other lit candle on the opposite side table, then collapsed back on her side of the bed. The room fell into darkness. When my eyes adjusted, I looked at the moonlight playing over Inannah. A heady torpor came over me in the darkness. The drink warmed my belly and my chest, making my insides feel leaden. I drifted into the cozy void of sleep.

When I awoke, the house was still and the windows were black, except for the gleam of the moon coming from outside. Inannah was leaning over me. She clasped my hand and pulled me from the bed. I looked back at the bed in the faint moonlight that intruded into the room. I'd left my body behind. I was curled against the Mistress amidst the sheets with my blonde head against her shoulder.

"We've entered the dream world," Inannah whispered in my ear. "The nightshade crush helped the separation of our souls from our desire-bodies. We're going on a long journey tonight."

"To where?" I asked.

"It's a surprise," Inannah answered. She pulled my hand. A full-length mirror stood in the corner of Inannah's bedchamber. The gilded frame was silvered by the moonlight coming through the window. Liquid darkness poured out of the mirror, like water running from under a closed door. The darkness pooled on the wood floor of Inannah's bedroom and solidified like black dirt from which long grasses sprouted. A wind came from within the mirror and stirred the grasses and loose strands of my hair. Inannah pulled me forward and pushed me through the mirror. She ducked through the narrow opening after me.

We stood on a dark plain. Inannah and I were suddenly both wearing clothes. Inannah was resplendent in a black evening dress, and I wore a white robe of a sort that I couldn't remember seeing before. When Inannah looked down at what I was wearing, however, she smiled, and her silvery eyes seem to twinkle as if in recognition.

Inannah reached between her legs with both hands. A violent pink light burst from her fingertips. The light grew and raced up her wrists to bathe her body, rendering her face macabre. A bright thing glowed into being beneath her. It was big, uncanny, and pink.

Legs emerged in currents of pink light that lifted Inannah into the air. When the form of the thing fully coalesced, Inannah sat astride a great glowing pink creature that looked like a horse. She stretched out her hand imperiously, and I took it. The Mistress elevated me effortlessly up. I settled into the saddle, held onto her waist, and away we went.

Inannah and I galloped across a black plain on that vibrant magical pink horse. The glow of the horse and Inannah's white-grey hair were the only lights that I could see on the plain except for the stars that spangled the sky. Inannah's blowing hair whipped my face. I didn't mind. I could smell her perfume. I was happy pressed against her. I was happy we were having another special night together.

After some minutes, something loomed ahead—a massive wall of blackness. It kept growing and growing in height, even as our speed increased through the dream world. The wind whipped Inannah's hair with such force that it stung and made me squint my eyes.

When we finally reached the black wall, it towered into the sky. A gate could be seen at its base. Inannah slowed the horse and passed through the gate. Dark things crawled nearby in the grasses. Those monstrous, scaly, feathered things rustled and flicked their long tongues at us, as if sensing whether we were friends or foes.

We entered a city and passed along streets between darkened homes. Sighs, moans, and weepings came from the homes, and blackened chimneys rose like crooked witch fingers to spew smoke and poison. We climbed a black road and arrived at another gate. The horse disappeared, and my seat gave way. I tumbled head over heels until Inannah flicked her wrist, and a magical force righted me back onto my dream feet.

Mistress Inannah held a glittering key in her diamond-ringed fingers. She turned a lock, and we entered a twisted garden with thorns and sinuous forms that slithered and hissed. The creatures receded from the feet of the Mistress, and we advanced to the bulk of a grand black castle. The menacing growls of dogs echoed in the dreamspace, but no visible guardians approached us. Inannah negotiated a door, and we paced into the warm interior of a well-furnished house with oil paintings and statues.

We walked down red-carpeted halls lit by golden lamps. The halls were like a maze that shifted, and the shifting made me sick, but Inannah strode on and led me forward with a purpose. The Mistress seemed so regal in the sartorial perfection of her black evening dress. I could _feel_ her even more than usual in that space. She was an epicenter of power—the only constancy in that world of dreams. Her hair, which had whipped wildly out on the black plain, was now perfectly coifed again into coils with gold pins.

We came to a double door that opened into a darkened bedroom. A blue light cast geometrical patterns across a coffered ceiling. The bed was like a massive basalt table with no sheets—more like an ebony dais or altar. I felt a dread then, and tightness clenched the center of my heart and weakened my knees.

A creature stood waiting. His skin was yellow and mottled with ashen grey blotches that looked greenish in the blue light. I could feel the power of that creature, and a sickening feeling in my gut told me who it was. The very sight of him made my skin crawl. I heard Inannah's voice as if spoken directly to my mind.

This is my home in Dis. Stay here while I'm with my husband, Archduke Asmodai. You met my husband when you were in the capital, but you don't remember him. I want you to watch while he takes me in my dream, my lovely fledgling. I want you to see.

Inannah advanced across the room and passionately embraced her husband. She kissed him and pressed her hip into the thick yellow thing dangled between his muscled, dappled legs. Asmodai's hands encircled Inannah and caressed her backside down to her buttocks. In one of the devil's hands gleamed a shiny curved knife.

The devil thrust Inannah backwards and held her roughly over the edge of the stone slab. His knife flashed in the blue light. He aimed cuts at Inannah's body. The cuts rent the fabric of her gown. Inannah's gown grew back, however, closing over the cuts with renewed fabric.

The devil cut faster and faster until his mottled hand was a blur, thrashing away the swaths of black fabric as Inannah's dress kept reforming. Inannah uttered little grunts and whimpers. She struggled mightily against her husband, but he wrestled with her, holding her in check. The devil was winning the war, but at a cost. More and more of Inannah's skin was revealed, and blood was running in little rivulets.

I heard Inannah cry out, a little wailing in the dead dream-space. She warbled birdlike sounds, unlike anything I'd ever heard from a living thing. The devil smacked Inannah suddenly, and again. He grabbed her by her dress, and the dress ripped away, denuding her completely. Inannah thrashed with a flurry of limbs, like a shred of paper caught in a wind against the edge of the black bed.

Inannah's back and arms were dripping with a myriad of cuts. She seemed to be moaning, weak and vulnerable. Her husband controlled her. He lifted her. He threw Inannah up onto the bed, knotted her hair in his fist, and mounted her from behind. The knife still glinted in his right hand.

When happened then is sketchy in my diary entry, as if I were too troubled to go into details. It was a lengthy dream world lovemaking, if it could be described as such. I mentioned my desire to leap forward and save Inannah from suffering at the hands of her own husband, but I was rooted, as if time had stopped, but only for me.

When the coupling was finished, Inannah wobbled off of the bed with a dark smile in her eyes. Her bloody body, to the relief of my sickened stomach, recomposed itself quickly. The Mistress walked again fully dressed, a queen in black on her high heels, proud and regal like her old ambassadorial self, the opposite of the utter whore who had just been brutally raped.

Inannah took my hand and led me back through the maze, out of the dark house and the two gates. When we reached the black plain, she thrust her hand between her legs and summoned the pink horse again, but the horse was smaller and weaker than the magnificent beast that had carried us before. We rode back over the tilting plain of black grass until we came to the mirror again on top of a low hill. The pink horse disappeared. Inannah pulled me once more through the mirror. We emerged in her bedroom, and I was sucked into my body where it still lay on the bed.

When I awoke, it was morning. Inannah stirred beside me. She reached and caressed my hip. She rubbed my stomach. Her fingers stroked down to my mons and slid over the little hill to the petals of my sex. She rubbed softly and pushed in with just the tip of her finger. The muscles in my stomach jerked when the hard edge of Inannah's fingernail filed my most sensitive flesh. I felt heavy, laden with emotional things. I slowly spread my legs.

"Please leave," Inannah murmured. She pulled her hand away and put her fingers to her lips. She didn't look at me.

I was disappointed. I didn't understand. I leaned and tried to kiss Inannah with my lips on her cheek. My face pressed into the tousled strands of her soft white-blonde hair. I loved her so much, and I wanted to show her. I could love her so much more than her husband. The Mistress glared at me with dangerous eyes that were only inches away from mine. A chill ran down my neck, and I retreated girlishly.

As I slipped away, I looked back. I thought I saw Inannah's mouth curl into a small smile. I wasn't sure why, but I'd never felt closer to Inannah than in that moment, and at the same time I'd never felt further away. She'd shared something with me—her vulnerability, which registered as something special and horrible, yet beautiful—a side of her that I'd never seen. At the same time, I felt profoundly disturbed. Inannah's husband was an evil and violent being. How could she love that monster?

I closed the bedroom door behind me, and I didn't see Inannah at all that day. Her husband had completely devastated her, I imagined, just like Cole devastated me. That night, in the evening feeding, Inannah pressed close to me in the low light of the parlour. She kissed me softly on the cheek.

"I'm going to teach you to travel the dream world," she said. "Someday you'll go real places with me. We'll wander the wilds of Elysium. We'll promenade along the Seine in Paris on Earth. We'll visit wealthy human men in their dreams. We'll corrupt them together. I'll teach you. Someday you'll need to seduce and procure your own slave to pass your Mistress Test and become fully fledged."

"Your husband—"

"My husband is an archdevil," Inannah continued. "The infliction of suffering is how devils feel their sexual pleasure. It's very rare for a succubus to wed a devil, because a devil's attentions will take a heavy toll. That's why my husband and I spend six moons of every year apart when I'm not traveling elsewhere as an ambassador for Hell. My winters here in the country allow me to rest, recuperate, and gain a mental and physical recovery from my husband's desires. Our female slaves live with him in the capital city. He spends time with them and occasionally with other women."

I didn't know what to say. The memories of Inannah with her husband, Archduke Asmodai, were still unusually clear in my mind, as if the dream world was more clear to me than reality, somehow less affected by my tea. I wondered how Inannah could truly love such a hideous creature. I tried not to let Inannah see the distaste written all over my face.

Long after I finished my slave boy in the parlour, and Fubuki had taken hers to her bedchamber, Inannah was still feeding. I stayed for a while and helped her. I stimulated her slave boy while she rode him, like she'd often done for me. I was tempted to accidentally touch her and bump the thick lips of her sex a little bit. I was tempted to accidentally rub the clitoris of my Mistress.

I didn't dare. After what I'd seen in the dream world, Inannah felt more forbidding to me. She was a possession of her husband, and Inannah's husband owned her in a way that I never could. My secret love for my Mistress was dashed onto the rocks of some stormy, unforgiving coast on the Sea of Desire, and my love clung for life while the chary waves of fate threatened to pull me under.

Shortly before midnight, Inannah finally said she was sated. She leashed the slave boys and put them away. When she re-emerged from the pit door, I followed her upstairs, and she guided me once again to her bedroom. She wanted a massage with olive oil. I luxuriated in every moment. I explored every inch of the skin that she exposed for me. When it was over, I curled up with Inannah on her bed, hoping she would let me stay again.

"You said you live six moons apart from your husband," I said. "You'll go back to live with him soon then?"

"Yes," the Mistress answered with a sigh. "I'll leave and go back to Dis in a few moons before the stormy season hits the north country in full force. You and Fubuki-si will be coming too, of course. The big city is different. I'll be busier, so we need to make the best of your succubus lessons before then."

Inannah turned and embraced me. She pressed two warm kisses to my cheek. We lay together, and I was immersed in her long white hair and her scented smell. I ached for more kisses, and my ache hurt more from my want of tea. It had been many hours since morning, and I'd missed my evening cup. I whimpered a little bit, just to be needy. Inannah shushed me. She blew softly on my forehead to cool me. I finally fell asleep.

## Chapter 9. An Invitation With Complications

More weeks went by, and spring crawled towards summer in northern Tartarus. The moon of March passed, and the days of April were approaching an end. My diary entries were fewer, so I must have been busier or less interested in taking time to write. In one passage, I wrote that I preferred direct experience of my succubus life, even if my tea kept melting the memories of the days that passed behind me.

The air through the windows was warmer, and I sometimes felt a sweat. I was more zealous than ever with my razor because a shaved body felt cooler to me. Storms came up many nights as the stormy season approached. Dry thunder and spider-lightning assaulted Apertura Arroyo regardless of whether Hell's skies spat sulfuric rain. Chadwick often pulled the shutters and window slits closed against the winds. The steward also lit more glass-encased oil lamps at night and fewer candles, which tended to flicker and blow out.

The grasses in Inannah's backyard became greener with the storms, and so did the cobra-leaf trees out beyond the thorny walls. On the occasions when I went to the swimming pool, I noticed butterflies and black rhinoceros beetles floating dead and drowned. The pool deck was frequently sprinkled with sand blown in by the storms, and the waters of the pool turned murky. Everything outside, in fact, turned dirtier and more sulfuric from the storms.

These days magnified in my diary pages the scene I'd witnessed between Inannah and her husband. Late at night, I kept going back and re-reading the appalling events and the bloody details that I'd recorded—how frightened Inannah had seemed, and how her head had snapped back when her husband smacked her repeatedly.

My disgust with the scene apparently increased over time, and my disgust evoked a change in me. I stopping punishing the slave boys, and when Inannah insisted that I punish one, I was pointedly gentle and kind with him. Inannah noticed and scolded me, ordering me to hit the boy harder. I obeyed, but weakly. She didn't seem pleased. The slave boys, on the other hand, seemed to like me a little bit more.

I hadn't forgotten about Master Cole. I still wanted and needed him. At one point, he hadn't visited for over two weeks. I recorded my worries in my secret diary. I tried to communicate with Cole using my succubus powers. I summoned a magical messenger bird—my little blue bird with the black crown—but the spell kept fizzling on my fingertips. I could still send a bird to Fubuki or Inannah, but I couldn't succeed in sending a bird to Cole.

I considered complaining to Inannah, but I'd worked hard at my lessons to learn the magical bird. I didn't want the Mistress to think that I was a failure. I kept trying. Inannah had described Cole as a highly available unmarried incubus. I was worried that my lover had found someone else and was blocking my messages somehow. In fact, I was sure of it. All along, I'd been wondering who else he'd been sleeping with. He'd abandoned Fubuki easily enough. He could just as easily get rid of me.

I felt a growing jealousy towards these imaginary girlfriends of Cole's that I conjured, who would of course be much more experienced than me, and more adept at pleasing the handsome Master. I asked Inannah if I could send a gift to Cole. She said absolutely not. She said that he should be sending _me_ gifts.

I asked Inannah if I could sew something for Cole. She said that I should sew a waistcoat, but it should be for the houseboys, and it should be something summery. I asked if I could make something for her instead, but Inannah only smiled and arched her eyebrow. And so the days of spring passed. Some nights the Mistress let me sleep in her bed, but we only cuddled a little bit and caressed each other with kisses on the cheek or forehead, and nothing of lips or sex.

Finally Cole came to visit me again. He breezed into the parlour one evening at the time of the slave-taking. He wore an easy smile on his tanned face and a wind-whipped look on his shoulder-length dark hair. Inannah hadn't lit a fire that evening, nor Chadwick many lamps.

Cole appeared like a shadow from the foyer to stand in the frame of the wide-open parlour doors. He stood next to Chadwick while Inannah and I worked on our slave boys. When Inannah noticed Cole, her face registered a faint annoyance with our spectator. I was in mid-coitus on my second tumble and wanted to finish. I grimaced at Cole apologetically, drew my boy more tightly, and milked him hard with my sex.

Master Cole wore black trousers, a half-unbuttoned burgundy shirt with no waistcoat, and polished dress shoes. He asked Chadwick in a low tone for a towel and some water while he waited. It was stormy outside, he said. He wanted to refresh his face. Inannah swiveled then where she was crouched over her slave boy. Her bare buttocks clenched, holding the boy's cock in mid-stroke as she spoke.

"Master Cole, I would have expected you to announce yourself. It's always a pleasure to have such a handsome incubus in my house, but bring your manners with you next time."

Cole laughed and glanced at Chadwick. "Your old boy here seems to have a deafness for hearing knocks on the door, at least when his mistress is performing for him. I half-expected him to be wearing headgear for his parlour duties, but I see nothing obstructing his olfactory organs."

Inannah stared Cole down. She wasn't much for jokes. I gave up on my slave boy and grabbed Cole before Inannah could dissect him further with her sharp tongue. I dragged my beau down the marble foyer and out through the massive front door into the warm night. As we went, I smoothed my petticoat and straightened my hair. I hadn't bothered getting fully undressed for the evening feeding, and luckily I was wearing one of my prettier corsets.

A breeze was blowing off the Mare Mortis. The cobra-leaf trees whispered and hissed. The smells of straw and dung carried from the stables. A boy worked in the sunset half-gloom on a brown stallion. Cole had set Inannah's stable boy to brushing his horse's coat for him.

"Where have you been?" I said to Cole on the front drive. "Don't you like me anymore? If you don't, then I should know."

"No, no." Cole hugged me. He rubbed my shoulder to comfort me. He kissed me. "I've been down in the capital city on business. I had some complications that lengthened my stay."

"Oh," I said. "My bird spells wouldn't work."

"Messenger birds won't fly from here to Dis. It's too far. Didn't Inannah tell you?"

"Maybe." Inannah may have warned me that my bird wouldn't work at long distances unless I used a special sending spell. I'd forgotten. I felt like an idiot in front of Cole again.

"I've been busy," Cole explained. "I'm sorry I haven't been back sooner. I'm training a new slave. I went to fetch her and escort her to her new home, that is, one of the cages next to my wine cellar. My other slaves are tending to her while I close up my house here in the north."

My worries returned stronger than ever. "Is she pretty? What's her name?"

Cole smiled at me. "She's just a human. I've been visiting her bed occasionally for decades on Earth through the dream world. I seduced her when she was young, and I kept tuning her to serve me. She died of old age and left her body in Warwickshire last week. I traveled across the dream world to Earth to retrieve her. She was waiting for me like I told her in her dreams. She was lost and frightened. She was so happy to see me."

"You mean her soul?"

"Well, yes," Cole replied. "Earthly flesh is just a husk of sorts, you know, and now she's transcended to a higher emotional vibration. Her soul is in a new desire-body for an eternity or until someone sends her to the void. I imagine she'll serve for a long time before it ever comes to that."

"Is she an older woman then?"

"No. She's every bit as beautiful as when she was a young girl living with her mother. Has Inannah taught you about the dream veils and how to seduce a human into service?"

"Not quite," I said. A believable half-lie wouldn't come to me. I felt small in the face of Cole's vast experience. I tried to conceive of decades of having sex with a human on Earth through the medium of their dreams. "I missed you Cole. Please don't leave me again."

Cole grimaced. "I have to go back to the capital soon, my little darling, but I'm having a party at my villa tomorrow night, a proper ending to the spring season up here. All of my friends are invited, including you and Fubuki-si. You'll come, I hope?"

"Yes, of course." I bit my lip, uncertain. I'd go if Inannah would let me. I'd been into town with Inannah and out to the Mare shores with Cole, but otherwise the château grounds were the farthest I'd ever been without an escort.

Cole leaned and kissed me again. He smelled like pipe tobacco, horses, and leather. "Could you tell Fubuki-si about the party? She's invited too. And I want you to sleep over, Shar-si, if Inannah doesn't mind. You were my favorite and most beautiful lover this season. I want to end it with you in my bed. I want it to be special."

My whole body warmed instantly. Needless to say, I was delighted, although not so much about Cole's implication that the season was ending. I wasn't sure what would happen after. Would I see Cole in the capital city, or would he be too busy, like Inannah, with his new slave and his other lovers? I didn't ask him. I didn't want to show still more of my insecurities. "I'd love to go, Cole. I'll be there."

"Come after the nine then, or whenever." Cole smiled and winked at me. I tried to smile back. I'd been naïve thinking that Cole might see something special in me—something beyond a seasonal fling. Cole and I said our goodbyes, and I watched him retreat away towards his carriage with his long strides. His backside in his pants was muscled and tight. I yearned to be in the arms of that man again. He was enough to make me forget about Inannah.

"A quick fuck in the stable?" I said, but my voice was faint, and he didn't seem to hear me. I fought the urge to run after him and beg him to take me, please take me.

I scurried back inside. I needed to find Inannah and ask her if I could go to Cole's party. As I strode through the foyer, I schemed and plotted. I had no desire to go anywhere with Fubuki-si, especially to visit Cole. If I neglected to mention the invitation of my rival fledgling, I could hope that Fubuki would never know. If she found out later and was furious at me, so much the better.

Inannah was just emerging from the pit door. Apparently she'd taken the slave boys back to the pit even though I wasn't finished. The Mistress was nude from the waist down, clad only in her corset that covered her scars. She held her black linen skirt draped over her arm. I waited until she closed the pit door before I pressed her with requests.

"Mistress, may I go to a party at Cole's villa tomorrow night? And may I sleep over there? He wants me to. Please? It would mean a lot to me."

Inannah answered coolly. "No, on both counts. It wouldn't be healthy. It might unbalance you. I like your progress where it is right now. There's no reason to risk it."

I bit my lip. I wasn't going to be denied that easily. "Mistress, this is really important to me. I love Master Cole, and he's slipping away from me. He said that I was his favorite lover this season, and he wants me in his bed for something special. Please? If I—"

"No."

"But he's my boyfriend!"

"Really?" Inannah arched her eyebrow sharply. "Are you his girlfriend?"

"If he wants me to be."

"Well, that's the question isn't it? I'm a little disappointed in Master Cole. I thought we had an understanding. I thought he'd be a good and patient male teacher for you, but apparently he has too many other things to do. No. He hasn't earned the privilege of having my fledgling chasing after him, addicted to his incubus whims."

Inannah turned, as if I'd been dismissed. I was exasperated. I played the only card I had left. "Cole wants Fubuki-si to come too. Surely if I went with Fubuki, I'd be fine. Fubuki could watch over me just like when you went to the city. Please, Mistress? It isn't fair for Fubuki to go and not me. She'll steal Cole back from me."

Inannah stopped short, as if reconsidering. She pivoted, and I could see her thoughts revolving in her sultry silvery eyes, which stared deeply into mine. "Perhaps I've changed my mind. Fine. I know you care about Cole, and I care about you. I want my fledgling to be happy. You must look and act perfectly at that party to reflect well on me and my reputation. Cole inhabits circles with very respectable men."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Fubuki-si will go with you. You're to do everything she says without question. If she tells you to be quiet, you stick a gag in your mouth. If she tells you to bend over, you touch your toes. If she tells you to go home, you collect your clothes and find the driver. She's older and wiser than you. I'll speak to her about my expectations."

"Please don't give Fubuki-si that power over me. Please?"

"Don't beg for anything again, Shar-si. It's unbecoming. You're a wealthy young succubus from the elite set—my fledgling. The word 'please' should not be in your vocabulary. That word is for slaves, appropriate sex play, and perhaps for ugly, lower class succubi who can't find a man. Do you understand? You shouldn't be begging me, or Cole, or anyone ever."

"Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry."

"Please keep your apologies to a minimum also. Apologies are for the slave boys." Inannah stepped close and squeezed my shoulder affectionately. Her mood was lifted, but her voice held a serious undertone.

Inannah turned and glided the rest of the way up the marble stair steps ahead of me. I say glided because Inannah always moved like a goddess or a queen. She walked regally without looking back at me, and I marveled at how her hips and buttocks undulated sensuously like a serpent as she ascended. Inannah never failed to impress.

I realized that I'd need to pick out clothes for the party, and I'd need to match those clothes to my face powders and paint. I needed to select a perfume or perhaps borrow an extra-special scent from Inannah. I needed clean stockings without a blemish in them. I needed to be perfect for Cole and his party as Inannah expected.

That night before I went to bed, floating and drifting on my evening tea, I wondered how Cole lived. I wondered what sorts of handsome men might be at his party. My mind kept wandering to his new slave girl, and my jealousy simmered in the hot bed of my succubus lust. The moil of my succubus emotions kept me awake half that night, and I scribbled everything into my diary by lamplight.

## Chapter 10. Meeting Master Dredge

The night of Cole's party is described in vivid detail in my diary, dear reader, spanning several handwritten pages front and back. Such was the effect it had on me. I'll try to relate the gist of it.

I spent much of day before the party getting ready. I decided to wear my most beautiful shoes—a pair of strappy black high heels, which sported cute silver florettes with blue sapphire centers that matched my eyes. I wore a thin black summer sack dress with a braided silver wire for a belt. I took my evening feeding in the parlour before Paulo dressed me in my bedchamber. I wanted my corset to be clean and unsweaty, and I wanted my fine blonde hair to be perfect without a strand out of place.

When I went down the hall to gaze at myself in the big full-length mirror in Inannah's bedchamber, I met Fubuki-si at the top of the marble stairway. She was coming with my evening tea, and she wasn't even dressed yet. I was shocked. Was Fubuki staying home and not going to the party after all? Were we going to be late?

No, Fubuki answered politely, everything would be fine. She would quickly get ready. She escorted me back to my bedchamber, where I drained my tea. Fubuki took the empty teacup from me.

I was sitting in the foyer a half-hour later, floating high and happy on my tea-feeling, when Fubuki descended the stairs. My jaw dropped at the sight of Fubuki's transformation. She looked magnificent from her head to her painted toes.

Her face was perfectly powdered, and her eyebrows and lips were perfectly lined. She wore a Turkish bra and skirt ensemble that left her midriff exposed. A tight ribbony cinch threw her petite-perfect breasts into incredible V-shaped relief. A thin gold chain connected the rear ring of her brassiere to the center back of her skirt, allowing her thin, voluminous skirt to fall low in front to show her hips and almost the top of her waxed and perfumed mons.

I owned no dress that was as revealing as Fubuki's. I even glimpsed her rouged nipple through her thin fabrics when she helped me into the carriage. I was envious of Fubuki's beauty, but I breathed deep and let my tea-feeling soothe me. Fubuki directed the driver towards Cole's residence. She perched imperiously in the carriage seat with a small smile playing on her lips. I complimented her outfit, and we made small talk, but Fubuki hardly looked at me. She seemed lost in thought. She mentioned that she looked forward to seeing Cole and her other boyfriends.

Fubuki's moon-silver was unusually bright and eager in her eyes. Fubuki looked like a lion cub ready to pounce. I didn't want her going near Cole. By the time we reached Cole's villa, I was worried. I was nervous and out of my element, whereas Fubuki seemed supremely confident. I convinced myself that Fubuki had an agenda, and it was nothing good. Whenever I'd been alone with her and at her mercy, I'd seemed to suffer for it.

Worse yet, Inannah had made it clear that Fubuki should oversee me during the entire party. I was supposed to do everything Fubuki said, and when Fubuki was ready to leave, we would leave. I wouldn't stay overnight with Cole. I didn't like Fubuki having so much control. I conjured a horrible scenario where I'd do something wrong at the party and Fubuki would delight in punishing me in front of everyone.

Our slave boy driver pulled us up at the end of a line of carriages. Fubuki descended gracefully. She swooped around to take my arm in hers. She escorted me up the gravel drive. Cole's home sat back from the road, sheltered by the cobra-leaf trees on his property. The trees swayed and hissed in the wind, and green lightning flickered above their thorny canopies. Summer was approaching, and another evening storm was coming to Apertura Arroyo on the northern shores of the Mare Mortis.

A pair of slave girls flanked Cole's front door. I couldn't help but ogle them and their thin gold collars. I'd rarely seen girl slaves before, and only in the village when Inannah and I had visited. Cole's slaves were dark-eyed, dark-haired, girlish beauties who bowed cutely with their eyes lowered when Fubuki and I walked through. A dark-skinned incubus haunted Cole's foyer. He greeted Fubuki when we stepped inside. "Fuki-si, girl! We gonna have some fun tonight?"

"Perhaps," Fubuki answered coolly.

"Aw, come on Fuki-girl," the incubus insisted. "Come be talkin' to me an' Timothy. We's goin' outside for a spell. Come for some company?"

The incubus who spoke had dark black skin, which made his teeth gleam white in the low light when he smiled. He was accompanied by a pale male friend who stood behind his shoulder. The other incubus was smiling at Fubuki too. Evidently both men were familiar with Inannah's older fledgling.

Fubuki didn't answer the men further. She only blew them a kiss, took my arm again, and escorted me onwards. Cole's country home had dark wood floors. Little niches sheltered candles and statues of gods, goddesses, and nymphs, the latter of which were holding pitchers or changing into trees, frozen by sculpted stone in their moment of transformational ecstasy. Cole's home was beautiful. It sprawled out more than Inannah's château, but it wasn't as airy, high, or marbley. The walls were closer, the doors were narrower, and the ceilings were lower.

Someone was singing in the depths of Cole's villa. The music echoed like a siren song through the dark hallways. Fubuki and I made our way towards the singing.

Fubuki and I turned a corner and passed through a door into a courtyard. The courtyard was surrounded by a columned walkway with deep eaves that framed the Tartarus night sky. Several well-dressed guests were standing on the flat stones that paved the center of the courtyard. The party-goers were drinking and conversing in low tones.

Most of the guests were men wearing dark trousers, waistcoats, and linen shirts rolled up at the sleeves. They were incubi, and all of them were as handsome and strong-looking as Cole. A few elegant succubi hung on the arms of some of the men. From the rings that glittered on their fingers, I took them to be wives.

My eyes were drawn farther towards the end of the courtyard, where the haunted singing came from a low, semi-circular stone wall that contained a grassy area. A slave girl sat on a silver stool singing. A violin played an accompaniment to the girl's bird-like voice.

"Can we go see her?" I asked Fubuki. "I want to."

"Yes, we may," Fubuki said. "Walk gracefully with your chin up. Remember that we are regal succubus princesses—the fledglings of Ambassador Inannah. We are also both single."

"I'm not single," I said.

"Yes, you are. You haven't promised Cole anything. You're a target for all of the men, and so am I. You will be fucked tonight. The only question is how many times."

Fubuki and I crossed the courtyard using the stone walkway under the shelter of the eaves. Several of the incubi turned to look at us as we made our way to the singing slave. I tried to walk with an air like Fubuki—like a princess. I'd never met a real princess that I could remember. I had no idea.

The slave girl singer had long dark hair, a pale oval face, and limpid eyes. She was young, lissome, lovely, and nude except for black stockings that rose to her mid-thighs. Her back was arched, and her bare breasts were pert and stood out from her chest remarkably for being uncorseted.

The girl's stockinged feet were strapped into leather stirrups, which were much like horse stirrups bolted to the silver front legs of her stool. Additional straps held the slave's ankles in place. The top of the silver stool was tilted, so the girl was forced to arch her back to brace herself against tipping forward. The muscles in her thighs were corded from her efforts, and her lilting voice quavered occasionally with her strain. She sang in a language that I guessed was French.

I leaned closer and saw that the girl wasn't in danger of slipping off of the stool top after all. A silver flange nestled between her inner thighs. The flange was bolted to the tilted stool top so it cupped the girl's mons. Small beads and screws on the flange suggested an inner apparatus, but it difficult to see more in the torchlight, and I was too timid to stick my nose close.

"Well if it isn't Fubuki-si and Shar-si." Master Cole's voice came from behind. I turned, or rather I tried to pirouette. Cole wore a wide smile. "I see you've met Mademoiselle Tissie. I'm so glad you two came. We needed more succubus beauties to lighten the mood."

"Is the mood somehow grim, Master Cole?" Fubuki arched her thin painted eyebrow.

Cole shrugged. "Not grim. Just serious. You haven't heard the news just in? Archduke Belial and Hell's First and Second Regiments have solidified their hold on the Trivium. It's another victory, but the angels are expected to launch a counterattack. Everyone fears that it was a trap, and Belial overextended Hell's best. No force has ever held the Trivium for long when it was contested."

"What's the Trivium?" I asked.

Cole cleared his throat. "It's a fort that guards the primary route through the mountains between northwestern Elysium and Erebus. The foot of the Stairway to Heaven is there. It used to be the home of Hell's Court before the Angelic Hierarchy came down from Mount Purgatory and razed it. Whoever controls the Trivium has a bit of control over the ebb and flow of human souls."

"For centuries it's been a neutral and undisputed territory," Fubuki added. "Subject to a treaty between Hell and Heaven. That treaty was broken by both sides, and it turned out best for us."

"Would you like to dance, Shar-si?" Cole extended his hand.

I answered instantly. "I'd love to."

My heart was thumping when I stepped out onto the courtyard grass. Cole called for a drum, and within seconds a well-trained slave was running across the courtyard with an instrument in hand. The male slave joined the violinist on the wall, and the two players struck a lively tune. All of the incubi moved to the edges of the Courtyard to watch. Cole took my smaller hand in his bigger one, and we began to dance.

It was so romantic. It was my moment in the spotlight—me and Cole together in front of all of those important people, including Fubuki-si, with beautiful music playing. It was an event straight from my most glorious tea-dreams. Unfortunately I was horrible.

I tried to move. I tried to summon a dizzying array of buried angel-girl abilities that might allow me to prance in my high heels and handle an outdoor dance floor. The flat stones weren't flat at all in practicality—they had slight variations. I stumbled. I tripped. I faltered. I was a total failure. Evidently my former spy training hadn't included lessons in dancing, nor had my angel life in Heaven.

Heat and humiliation swept over me as I realized that I was clueless. Sweat tickled and itched between my breasts. Compared to Cole's elegant steps, I was a pathetic, hamstrung doe, and all of the frozen-faced people were just waiting for me to fall and die with my tongue hanging out. After interminable minutes—perhaps only two or three—Fubuki strode forward just as the violin player transitioned to a slower rhythm.

"May I cut in?" Fubuki interposed her hand between me and Cole to caress his bare chest through his customary unbuttoned shirt.

"I'd be delighted, darling." Cole took Fubuki-si's hand and winked at me apologetically. I stumbled away past a few other couples who were joining the dance. You can imagine, dear reader, how I was feeling. My cheeks were burning with a fever. I had embarrassed myself, and Fubuki had been in a perfect position to hammer the nail into my coffin of humiliation. I would have been livid if I hadn't been so relieved.

Thick stone columns held up the deep eaves over the walkways around the courtyard, and I found the nearest one to hide behind. I skulked and pinched inelegantly at my dress to dry my sweat and shake out my jangling nerves. I bent and massaged my twisted right ankle. I dared to crane my head around the column to watch.

My jaw dropped. Fubuki was incredible, and worse yet, she seemed to be showing herself off. She twirled and made sweeping gestures with her arms like the petals of a flower. She melted again and again into Cole's arms. He joined hands with her and spun her around. He lifted her up. Cole's face wore a happy expression of delight and pleasure.

Cole pulled Fubuki into him, wrapping her up from behind. She wriggled her rear end against him with the beat of the drum. Fubuki's belly was exposed when her skirt swirled around her waist, slinking on the golden chain that suspended it. I could glimpse the beginning of her sex. It was impossible that Cole was not aroused. I tried to gauge the lump in the trousers.

I wondered if that was why all of the incubi wore dark colored trousers—to be tactful with their over-sexed erections. I also wondered what I was going to do about Fubuki and Cole. They were engaged in the most elaborate mating dance imaginable. Fubuki was throwing her perfect body against Cole over and over. Even with Fubuki's fake painted doll face attached to her body, no male was going to withstand that. I could only assume that Fubuki was trying to steal Cole back from me.

"Hello beautiful. What's ya name?"

I'm not sure how a voice could have sent a shiver down my neck, but according to my diary pages, it did. I collected myself and pivoted to face the two incubi from the foyer—the ones who had greeted Fubuki-si when we'd come in.

"I'm Shar-si," I answered. "I'm Ambassador Inannah's second fledgling."

"I heard somethin' about Inannah havin' a mysterious second fledgling." The moon-silver in the eyes of the black-skinned incubus sparkled. He gripped the shoulder of the younger, paler man next to him. "I'm Master Dredge and this here's ma own protégé, fledgling Timothy."

I curtseyed to the two men. At least Inannah had taught me how to do that much well. "Nice to meet you."

Thunder cracked in the sky overhead then, a rolling boom that almost drowned out my words. The players faltered for a few seconds and continued. Dredge looked up past the eaves at the greenish flickers. He cleared his throat.

"'Nother early summer storm. Ya headed back to the capital soon, Shar-si? By June it'll be dicey flyin' out o' here at any time o' day."

I glanced over at Fubuki, who was still dancing with Cole. I met Fubuki's eyes for a second. She flashed me a smile that was both wicked and triumphant. The incubi around the courtyard had begun clapping their hands to urge on Fubuki, Cole, and their amazing show of eroticized gyrations.

I had a sudden idea of how I might separate Fubuki from her ex-boyfriend, or barring that, at least have a chance to get her in trouble. After all, Inannah had given Fubuki the important task of watching over me and making sure I did nothing bad—nothing that would unbalance my health and recuperation. I smiled sweetly at Dredge. It was very daring for me in retrospect, but I was pathetic and desperate.

"I really don't like the thunder and lightning, Master Dredge. Is there someplace we could talk privately, maybe inside?"

Dredge tilted his head, as if considering for a second my intention if not my true guile. "Guest bedrooms down the hallway on da other side."

I walked out of the courtyard with the two incubi. Dredge offered his arm, but I didn't hang onto him like he evidently expected. I was suddenly conflicted. Could I ruin things with Cole if I went with Master Dredge and his fledgling? I couldn't know or guess how Cole would feel if I went with those men. I was in new territory as a young succubus.

The darkened halls in Cole's home were eerie with the lighting flashing. Yellow-green glows came through the glass windows to mingle with soft pools of romantic candlelight. Master Dredge's inky black skin made him almost invisible.

Dredge stopped a slave girl in a hall to demand directions from her. She pointed the way, and we ended up in a bedroom that was romantically lit by two swan-shaped brass oil lamps on either side of the massive bed. There was buffet-style side table similar to Fubuki's, along with a bottle of wine and a few plates of half-eaten strawberries and cheese. Dredge and Timothy stood and looked at me. It was an awkward silence. They almost seemed as nervous as I was.

"Ya look a little nectared, Shar-si," Dredge drawled. "Can see it a wee bit around ya eyes. Ya in da black?"

It's hard to believe, but until then, dear reader, I hadn't even heard the terms nectared or in the black. Dredge talked strangely in some brogue with which I was unfamiliar, so I considered at first that I'd misunderstood him.

I still didn't truly know that it was the nectar in my daily teas that was affecting me—a powerful ingredient from the banks of the river Lethe. Nectar was the essence of Hell's flowers, and the black came from a type of Tartarus poppy, a poppy whose roots drank the waters of the river Lethe. The Lethe stole the memories away from any soul who drank from it, and so did the flowers that grew on that dark river's banks. Despite my ignorance, my answer to Dredge was correct.

"Yes." I said.

"Would ya like to try some red? S'good. From Erebus."

"Yes," I said again, not even knowing what it was. My heart was thumping in my chest. "I'd love some red."

Both Timothy and Dredge seemed pleased. Dredge pushed the bedroom door ominously closed and went to the buffet table. I was actually expecting and hoping that Fubuki or Cole would burst through the door in any moment and collar me, figuratively speaking.

Surely either my escort or my boyfriend would care enough to come look for me. That was my reasoning. If neither one cared where I went or what I did, then so be it. I'd just get into trouble with a mysterious black-skinned incubus who didn't care about me at all. Master Dredge had made a move at Fubuki in the hallway, not me. I could tell he wasn't particularly interested by me. I was a second choice at best.

Looking back at my diary, this was the first case that I can identify of my desires of wanting to treat myself badly. I didn't feel good about myself, and I didn't feel good about Dredge's attention to me. It's hard to imagine, given everything I'd done to the slave boys in the parlour, but I felt dirty.

Timothy ran his finger gently across the back of my neck. He caressed the back of my dress and squeezed my rear end. I wasn't sure what the incubi wanted from me, but I guessed that I was going to get fucked by two men at once.

## Chapter 11. A Very Dirty Color

Dredge casually said that his red nectar was from the poppy farms in Erebus, extracted and refined from the finest cultivated flowers. The flowers were grown in soil fertilized with powdered human bones and watered with the tears of fairies. The flowers were hand-picked by slaves who wore locked masks to keep them from eating the precious petals.

I laughed. I thought Dredge was spinning a tale to amuse me, but he kept a straight face. He told me how good his red was, and where it came from, and how expensive it was. I think he expected, in a male way, for me to be impressed. The powder looked pretty on the white saucer but ugly on the end of Dredge's finger. He pushed it towards my mouth.

"An appetizer, if ya like, before da main course?"

Timothy chuckled from behind me, but I didn't get the joke. I understood that I was supposed to open my mouth. I opened. I laved the whorls of Dredge's thick fingertip with my tongue. I couldn't help but sigh with appreciation.

The powder tasted delicious. Quick pleasure bloomed in my mouth like with my black tea, only the red was much sweeter and fuzzier. It was like Inannah's nightshade draught—fruity, not bitter, and with a hint of spice.

My throat and head were inundated with relaxing sensuality. I felt at ease, and a warmth came over my body. My nose was hot and humming with the sweet and spicy powder. I blinked. My eyes were watering. Dredge returned to the saucer, licked his finger, and conveyed some of the powder to his own mouth.

"So what do you do, exactly?" I managed. "Do you two spend the summer in the capital like everyone else?"

"Ya," Dredge said. "I have a small business in sculpture, ya know. Interior décor. Timothy's da real artist. Ya see the portrait of Cole in the front foyer? He painted dat."

"Really, Timothy?" I tried to breathe deeply and steady myself as the effect of the nectar intensified in me. "I'd like to look at that again. Cole is so handsome. I bet it wasn't hard to do a good job."

Dredge drifted closer to me and planted a kiss on my lips. I opened my mouth for his thick, insistent tongue. I'd never seen such dark skin. His skin was like the soot around the base of a lamp glass. Dredge's tongue was alive with the red, and some of the pleasure transferred into me. I worked my tongue against his, and he worked against mine. We massaged the pleasure orally into one another.

After a minute, Dredge drew away, held me at arm's length, and examined me. "Ya'd make a delight of a model, Shar-si. Ya's pretty much the perfect succubus beauty by standards in da capital. Ya's perfect for Cole's taste, surely."

"She's too thin," Timothy said, running his hand along my hip and ass to emphasize his point. "I wouldn't want to try to sculpt her. You're in the black aren't you, Shar-si?"

"What do you mean?"

Dredge chuckled. "Dey don't admit it, Timothy, but that's how dey get so thin. So from a painter's perspective, ya know, what color do ya get when ya mix black and red?"

"A very dirty color," Timothy said, still behind me. His hands were feeling me up more vigorously, and his voice was loaded with innuendo. Timothy pulled at my dress, lifting it up to my hips, and Dredge pulled me towards the bed, and together the men sort of upended me and threw me down. I was practically floating off of my feet anyway with the nectar in my head.

When I was horizontal, Dredge ran his big hands up my legs to caress my thighs. He pushed up my dress and rolled down my stockings. I wasn't wearing any panties. I was completely nude from my waist down. I couldn't see past the voluminous fabric of my evening dress or discern what the two incubi were doing, but I could see the edge of the saucer on the bed and a fresh pile of red on it. Dredge's dark finger swabbed up some.

Dredge pried at my ass with damp fingers. I felt wetness and a pressure. Pleasure exploded when the incubus stabbed deep into me—not into my sex but into my forbidden place—my anus. For a second I couldn't breathe, then I let out a long animal groan, and the room seem to flicker in front of my eyes. Dredge began working me with his finger, in and out.

The sensations were incredible. Pleasure pulsed around my anus and twigged and tingled up the individual bones of my spine. I felt a deep yearning in my sex then—a flush of desperate need that I could only describe as maddening. I was like a hungry baby bird. I wanted to be filled everywhere. I wanted something in my mouth. I wanted something in my nose. I wanted something in my cunt. I felt a trickle of wetness between my legs. Meanwhile, Dredge kept working deeper with his wet finger into my nether aperture.

"Lick little kitty," Timothy said. "Lick."

Dredge's incubus fledgling had edged around the bed to move the nectared saucer next to my face, inches from my lips. I did as he asked, twisting my shoulders and craning my neck to get my tongue down onto the glazed surface of the little plate.

The insides of my head swirled like a whirlwind. I licked and licked. I giggled. I'd never felt so needy. I wanted things in me. I wanted everything inside me—Timothy's cock, Dredge's finger, the bedpost, the candlestick on the side table, the wine bottle on the buffet table. Timothy was closest. I grabbed at his crotch, and he obliged me. He unbuttoned his trousers and edged forward. His cock was adequate, but it was growing in size as I took it in my hand.

Meanwhile, I could feel Dredge again. He settled onto my stretched leg, pinning it. His ass and balls shifted up. His cock prodded. He thrust through my anal sphincter. Pleasure and pain splintered through me, and Dredge became a black piston, shoving pleasure deep into my dirtiness. He pushed the sharp pain away with nectar pleasure.

Timothy shifted forward. My mouth watered in anticipation for another cock. Timothy's cock tasted sweet, and he fucked my mouth, and I could smell his male musk so close to my nose. He held my head up, and my neck hurt a little bit. I couldn't focus fully on Timothy because of what Dredge was doing to me, but Timothy grabbed my hair and tugged, demanding attention.

I felt pain, but the pleasure washed it away, and I focused on Timothy's cock, even while Dredge was driving my lower body into ecstasy with his penetration. Something switched inside of me, or triggered. I was opening inwardly, like a great portal swinging, and I was able to relax totally and take them both despite the awkwardness of the position.

They walked all over me and through me with their cocks, and it went on and on, and I entered a new world beyond any devastation Cole had ever done to me. I was pure sex, and I wanted their seed in me, and I never wanted the fucking to end. I was facing away from the bedroom door, sucking Timothy, when I heard soft voices over the sounds of the cock in my mouth.

"Balls 'o Cerberus," Dredge grunted. "What ya doin'?"

Master Dredge shifted suddenly and came off of me. Timothy, to my surprise, also went flying away from me like a leaf. His worm-pale cock popped out of my mouth, and he slammed against the wall. One of the brass lamps tipped at the impact, and Timothy reached to grab it. I crawled to get his cock back, but an iron hand snagged my ankle.

I twisted to see Fubuki's painted doll-visage. Cole stood right behind her. Fubuki yanked me to the edge of the bed, transferred her hand to my arm, and dragged me up. I'd had no idea Fubuki could be half that strong.

"You little fool," she said. "And look at you. You're in no shape to stay at this party anyway. We'll see you in the capital, Master Cole. I'll send you a bird. Thanks for inviting us. Your party was a delight."

"Thanks for stopping by, Fubuki-si," Cole said with an awkward smile.

"Oh come naw, Fuki-si," Dredge said gruffly. "What's good for you is bad for da other girl? How does dat work?"

"Ambassador Inannah doesn't want things up her fledgling's ass, Master Dredge. You know what that can do to a younger succubus, especially."

Fubuki ordered me to gather my stockings, garters, and panties, but I could hardly stand up, much less bend over. My fellow fledgling grabbed my things for me. My eyes fixed on Dredge's massive black cock. I tried to form a protest—a reason why I needed to get fucked some more, but Fubuki tugged me inexorably out the door. I tipped after her on wobbly legs.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to fuck those men. I was happy at least that Fubuki hadn't fucked Cole, or at least I didn't think so. Master Cole stopped me in the doorway, kissed me warmly and rubbed my shoulder. He promised to see me when I reached the capital city of Dis for the summer season.

Cole looked deeply into my eyes and ran his tongue over his lips. I echoed his sexual gesture with my own tongue and told him I'd expect a date with him in Dis. I was silly. I wrote in my diary that Cole had flirted with me by licking his lips, but he'd surely tasted the high-quality red nectar that had transferred with our kiss.

When Fubuki and I reached the house, I started towards the second floor, but Fubuki ordered me to hold in the foyer while she went upstairs. She planned to give Mistress a full report from the party, and I was to wait. I was increasingly angry, but I did as I was told. I didn't feel like walking any farther anyway. I was still floating, and my entire insides up to my ribs were starting to feel queer and hollow. I'd been fucked but not filled, and my Hunger gripped me uncomfortably.

Within a few minutes, Inannah's voice echoed down the spiral foyer staircase. She wanted me to come on up. I climbed the marble steps. I was out of breath when I reached the top, where Inannah met me. She took my hand and led me into her bedroom where she helped me undress.

My heart leapt at the crazy idea that Inannah wanted to take advantage of my nectared situation. The red nectar had loosened my hold on my lust. I wanted more fucking. I just wanted to fuck endlessly until I went to my death. When I was stripped, I threw myself onto the Mistress and started kissing her.

Instead of giving me a wild night of forbidden sex, the Mistress held me at arm's length and gave me a stern lecture. Anal sex was bad for me, Inannah said. Such activities broke open the root chakra portal and caused my succubus energy to leak. Dredge's cock had, in fact, weakened me severely. That sounded bad, I protested, but I still wanted more of what Dredge and Timothy had been giving me. Inannah was exasperated.

"This is why I didn't want you going to that party alone, fledgling. You're too naïve about incubi. They will take whatever they can get. If Fubuki hadn't gotten you out of there, we would have had to carry you home and up to your bedchamber on a stretcher."

"I'm sorry." I tried to sound contrite. "I trust your judgment, Mistress."

Inannah seemed satisfied with that answer. "As you've already been penetrated in your anus, we might as well clean you. Come with me to the bathroom. I'm giving you an enema."

"What's that?"

"We succubi don't digest food like humans, so your black tea has been leaving a residue inside you over these many moons. We're going to wash you out."

"Thank you, Mistress."

Inannah took me to her private second-floor bath, which was all decked in worn yellow marble. A Cupid statue with a phallus waterspout presided at the head of a sunken tub. Inannah filled a leather skin with water and attached a silver nozzle to it. She ordered me to bend over the edge of the bathtub. I was so weak that my legs trembled with the effort. Inannah positioned herself behind me and pushed the silver nozzle into my anus.

The resulting sensation was hardly one of pleasure—instead it felt sobering. When my anus was filled with cool liquid, Inannah escorted me from the tub to her chamber pot in the corner. After a few minutes of waiting, I was allowed to release the water into the vase. My legs suddenly chilled with an even deeper weakness, and I could feel the weakness spreading and traveling through all of my limbs. My entire body felt drained of energy.

At the same time, my Hunger leapt, even more ravenous. Inannah was trying to help me, but my Hunger didn't understand such rationality. I felt a base aching need to take a slave. When the Mistress helped me up, I could hardly stand on my two feet. I had to lean on her to avoid falling. I avoided Inannah's eyes. She smirked. The smirk was a curious look that I'd never seen before from her.

"You need to learn how to handle those men," she said. "An incubus loves to make a succubus weak."

"Is dat so bad?" I made doe eyes, attempting humor to lighten the mood. Inannah chuckled and helped me to her bed. We collapsed alongside one another. Inannah turned down the lamp, and I lay there drifting in the dark, listening to Inannah's soft sounds next to me—her breaths and rustles when she tossed and turned.

"Good night, fledgling," she murmured. "We'll deal with your Hunger in the morning. Until then, you'll have to cope with it. Consider it a lesson to remember."

Inannah had read my mind. All I could think about was getting filled by Cole or one of those incubi. I needed incubus seed so much in that moment. I felt tears coming to my eyes, and I wiped them. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"When are we going to the capital? Cole said he's leaving, and Master Dredge said he's leaving too. Dredge said there are more storms coming in June."

"Master Dredge is correct," Inannah answered. "I'd like to leave as soon as I finish the new book that I'm writing. I expect we'll start packing for the capital this week. There's no need to panic about Cole leaving. If he wants to see you in the big city, you can keep seeing him. His home is not a far drive by carriage."

"That's nice."

"Just know that your lessons and everything else will come first. The capital will be a whole new world for you with more rules and things to pay attention to. My husband will be living with us. We'll frequently entertain guests. I might hire some special tutors for you. You need to get back to your magic studies, for one thing."

I took a deep breath. "Mistress, may I please kiss you good night? Please?"

"What did I tell you about begging? Good night."

Inannah turned and kissed me softly on my lips. My breath caught with hope, but the kiss was brief. I lay quietly unsatisfied. I was tortured with desire for Inannah in that moment. I tried to distract my simmering lust with the prospect of moving to the capital city. I'd have more freedom apparently. Cole would be there, and so would Dredge and many other incubi to fuck.

Even though I felt a little used, I was a little proud that Dredge and Timothy had wanted me. Was I really so beautiful, as Dredge had suggested, by the standards in the capital? My pride came alive at the thought. Maybe I could be on fashion plates someday like Fubuki-si.

Inannah's husband, unfortunately, was also in the capital, and I really didn't want to see Inannah with him again. I certainly didn't want to live in the same house as that sick and hideous devil, much less share the attentions of my Mistress with him. The thought of her sleeping with him made my stomach cringe.

In the coming moons, my fears would prove mostly unfounded. Inannah's house in the capital was five times as big as her winter home in Apertura Arroyo, and I would rarely see the Master.

Fubuki and I would share an entire wing between the two of us when we were living in the city, with our own bath, laundry chute, full length mirrors, views of the Disian downtown and Hell's Court, an exterior door with our own carriage side-drive, maid service from Asmodai's female slaves, and every other luxury that my mind couldn't have imagined at that time.

I wouldn't see Inannah as much, as she'd warned, but I would see Cole, go to parties, experiment more with nectar, meet new people and new lovers, and continue my ongoing education in the mysterious ways of the succubi as described by my copy of _Concise History_ , which I was reading almost every night.

## Chapter 12. A Beautiful Cry

The next morning when I awoke, I was in a good mood, although I'd slept uncomfortably in my corset, and my Hunger was ferocious. I was still lying on Inannah's bed, but the Mistress was missing. I scanned the woven tapestries on the wall. I gazed at the marble-topped vanity in the corner with its myriad bottles of perfume and shelves full of glittering diamond jewelry. Inannah was so beautiful, and she lived amidst so much beauty.

I looked out of Inannah's bedchamber window past the patterned damask curtains at the view of the blowing treetops. A flock of black birds circled in the carnation-grey sky. It was still early. The sun slanted low in the aftermath of the storms across the relatively calm Tartarus landscape.

As I lay in Inannah's bed, I wished I'd done more at the party the night before, and I wished I'd done things differently. I wanted to talk more with Master Dredge. I wanted to ask him about the red and the black, and what we'd done. I wanted to ask him his opinion on anal sex, and how that felt for him, and about other stupid things that I was embarrassed to ask Mistress Inannah.

We'd be moving to the capital soon. I fantasized about seeking out Dredge and Cole and having more decadent succubus adventures in that distant city that I was hearing so much of. I was a little over-ambitious that morning.

My life as a young succubus seemed magical and full of possibilities. I didn't know what would happen next, but I felt that I was coming closer to what my succubus soul had been yearning for. As a fallen angel—a rebel from Heaven—I liked adventures. I'd gone to places unthinkable. I was prepared to come to terms with the loss of my memory and move on to a bold new world. I gave silent thanks to Lady Lilith and Mistress Inannah, who were always there to guide me.

My need for tea distracted me from my flight of fancy, and I desperately needed to feed my Hunger. My neck ached when I lifted my head. I wondered where Inannah was. I guessed that the Mistress was at her morning slave-taking. I didn't want to bother Fubuki, but I wanted my black tea right away. I also wanted a slave if possible.

I gathered up my clothes where they still lay on the floor. I left Inannah's bedroom and went down the hall. I knocked trepidatiously on Fubuki's closed bedchamber door. No one answered. I knocked again.

"Come in." Fubuki's voice sounded faint and annoyed. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Fubuki was seated facing away from me. Her gold-embroidered robe was splayed across the floor like the petals of a yellow flower. The yellow flower was engulfing one of the slave boys. My Hunger leapt with desire and envy.

"Fubuki-si? I was just wondering about my tea."

"Go ahead back to your room," she answered. "I'll make it when I'm finished with him. It isn't even the ten yet."

"Thank you. It's just that I really need it this morning."

I returned to my room, which was across the hall from Fubuki's and on the other side of the house from Inannah's. My bedroom, perforce, was warm instead of cool and bathed in the pale orange tones of morning. Outside, burnt yellow clouds strafed down to where Dawn's chariot was ascending the purple-puce sky.

I put my dress away in my wardrobe and lay on my bed. All I could think about was tea and feeding while I waited for Fubuki. I eyed the line of Fubuki's cane, which was still angled down in the grey corner beside my door with its business end bowed slightly where it arced alongside the door molding.

I got up from my bed and picked up the cane. It was light. I held it out in front of me. I swished it back and forth. I recalled my feelings towards Fubuki the previous night. I'd been humiliated, and she'd humiliated me further by showing off with Cole. Then she'd come home and tattled to the Mistress about everything that had happened.

I imagined swatting Fubuki with the cane. I executed a few fanciful cane-snapping movements. The effort made my arm tired. A memory loosed in me, as if a moth were struggling to free itself from a musty cocoon. _Step left. Swing down. Parry. Step back. Parry. Low sweep. Lunge. Lunge._

A trickle of memories came to my consciousness. I was fighting, swinging, rolling, and jumping. I saw a vague memory of a tall woman with braided greying hair. She was reaching across the void, and her lips were moving, as if she were trying to speak. She had silver-hazel eyes. She cared about me, just like Inannah.

My memories always seemed to come when I was empty of tea. The memories came from a dark part of me, a terrible depth filled with pain and bloodshed. My memories made me want to cry. They also made me want my tea even more. Inannah knew what was best for me.

I felt exhausted. I needed so much to feed my Hunger. I put the cane back in the corner. I went back to my bed and collapsed. I wasn't feeling normal. Dredge had weakened my succubus energy with the anal sex, just as Inannah had said. I barely even stirred when Fubuki entered the room and deposited the tea set on my vanity.

"Shar-si, come drink your tea," the first fledgling said. "I made it extra-strong. I think you need it."

"Thank you, Fubuki-si."

"Sit." Fubuki pulled the chair away from my vanity and pointed at it.

I climbed out of my bed. I went and sat. My hand trembled when I picked up the teacup. I put the cup to my lips and tipped it up. I took long swallows, and as I did, I was reminded of Timothy's cock in my throat. I drained the cup quickly and slumped in the chair with a feeling of relief. I was glad the tea was strong. I wanted it strong. The tea dripped and poured in torrents over the disturbances inside me—the steely sharp bloody memories that I'd glimpsed—all gone like so much molten candle wax.

I embraced the heady pleasure as my cares went away. I needed my tea. I didn't know how I would ever live without it. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my blood was rushing in my ears, and my tongue was numb, and my throat was bitter, and odd lights were flickering in my achingly dry eyes. The tea had apparently been the strongest yet, and was having as-yet unknown effects.

I felt something touch my arm then, insinuating itself between my ribs and left bicep. Fubuki was still in the room with me. I could smell her faint perfume.

"What are you doing?" I murmured, blinking.

"Sit still."

I struggled slightly, but the tea almost tipped me off the chair. Fubuki drew my other arm back against the other back rail of the chair. She quickly looped cords around it, restraining me. I braced against the chair and tried to push up to get my elbows above the loop of rope, but Fubuki smacked me and slipped another loop around my arm, drawing it alongside the next one.

"Was the tea good?" Fubuki's words were sweet and cruel. "Do you feel good, Shar-si? Tell me how good."

"What are you doing, Fubuki-si?"

"I'm tying you to this chair," she answered.

"Why?"

Fubuki didn't say more. Her hands kept sliding around my limbs like little serpents, back and forth, slipping ends of rope around my arms and pulling them tighter and tighter until my back pressed to the slats of the vanity chair and my arms were secured to the rails.

The tea had warmed me down to my toes. I was intensely and inexplicably aroused. I was acutely aware of my sex and the hard wooden seat under my rear end. I began to wonder if the tea had tasted differently, and if it had been a slightly different color. I had a different aftertaste in my mouth. I looked towards the cup, but I was tied too tightly to see the dregs inside it.

"You were awful last night," Fubuki said. "You were an embarrassment to me and the Mistress."

The walls of my bedroom pinwheeled. At first I thought I was falling, but it was really the chair tipping backward. Fubuki dragged me and the chair to the center of my bedroom. I found myself staring up at the ceiling. Fubuki had lain the chair down. I was still seated, but the chair was horizontal on the floor with the weight of my back on the slats. From the corner of my eye, I could see Fubuki closing my door for privacy. An ominous black leather bag sat nearby.

"I didn't know how to dance! It's not my fault!"

"If you didn't know how, then you shouldn't have agreed to do it. You should have made an excuse. It's what a clever succubus should do, so she doesn't look like a fool."

"I don't deserve to be punished for that."

"Yes, you do."

I took a deep breath and looked up at the grey surface of my bedroom ceiling. My head was swimming with the nectar. My blood was pumping, rushing. My body was floating, and I was desiring. I had a waterfall inside me, and it was flowing upwards, but not like water—more like sweet-smelling wet sand. The nectar was collecting heavily inside my head. I felt the sudden urge to urinate.

"Why are you always doing this to me, Fubuki? Do you hate me?"

Fubuki didn't answer. She continued to wrap my ankles and calves with rope. She pushed my feet to the outer sides of the chair legs and pulled the rope through the supporting rungs. I struggled a little bit. I thrust with my legs, but the rope held me fast. Fubuki seemed satisfied with the fastenings.

Fubuki paused to go to my vanity and light the oil lamp, which shed a warm light over her peaceful doll face and short black gown. She retrieved the cane from the corner. Her arm swung. I felt and heard the snap, which sent a mild pain into the bottom of my left foot. The splinter of suffering washed down my ankle. I winced, but with the pleasure of the tea in me, it wasn't that bad.

Fubuki snapped again and again. She switched to my right foot and snapped three more times. I clenched my legs against the pain. Fubuki increased the ferocity of every stroke, testing me. I curled my toes, reducing the angle that Fubuki could strike. I felt a dagger of pain slice into my middle toe, then my smaller one.

"Open your clumsy feet up," Fubuki commanded.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

I stretched my toes back and Fubuki swung again. I clenched my toes again, but again I felt the pokes and stabbing pains from something sharp. I refused re-open my toes. Fubuki stopped poking. The pain subsided. I took a deep breath. Really it wasn't so bad with the tea.

Fubuki adjusted her stance and swung again with the cane. I clenched. More pain washed through my leg. Fubuki swung again and again, three more times to each foot. She swiveled and settled herself on the edge of the bed.

"It's true, Shar-si," Fubuki said. "I hate you. I don't understand what Mistress Inannah sees in you, or why she is wasting all of this time on you. She loves you too much, and she is wasting my time by making me take care of you. I make your tea. I always help you with this and that. The Mistress coddles you. She's too kind to you."

"Well, that isn't my fault."

"Of course it is," Fubuki snapped.

"No it isn't. I can't help it if Inannah cares more for me than you. I care for her too. She's beautiful and brilliant. I love her. Not you, Fubuki. You're cruel. You must truly hate yourself."

Fubuki came at me again and swung the cane, this time across the tops of my thighs. I gasped. Fubuki swung again, and a third time. She kept swinging. Agony laced my legs until tears leaked from my eyes and ran down the sides of my head. I began to sob uncontrollably. Fubuki stopped and looked down at me. Her silver-brown eyes were soft and liquid, almost as if compassion stirred in her depths, or something else.

"You're so beautiful when you cry," she finally said.

"I hate you Fubuki-si! I swear to Lady Lilith I'll make you pay for this."

I'm not sure if that's what I really said. The tea was so strong in my head, and the entry into my diary page for that morning was short. Fubuki untied me. I got dressed and went back to bed. It was only then, lying limp and tea-inundated an hour later, that the memory of Inannah's promise came back to me. I could have vengeance if Fubuki did anything to me again. I got straight out of bed and went to Inannah. I told her everything I could remember. I showed her the red stripes on my thighs.

Inannah sat with me in her first floor office and agreed that something had to be done. She promised that we would do it that night. I was relieved, excited, and nervous at the same time. That night, after feeding, I was curled up in my bedchamber when Inannah came. She said it was time to teach Fubuki a lesson so that she wouldn't hurt me again.

The Mistress sat with me for a while in my room. She took me to my vanity and did my hair up into a bun. She painted my lips red and my eyelids dark. She penciled my eyebrows into sharp harsh lines. I was thrilled by those intimate attentions from the Mistress. She'd never painted my face before. When she was done with me, I looked like someone else. I looked like a cruel and wicked succubus, and nothing like an innocent angel girl.

Inannah marched me downstairs to the foyer, and then straight through the forbidden door in the corner. Inannah guided me down the stone stair steps under the château and into her forbidden pit. I wasn't sure what was happening until I saw Fubuki-si. She was waiting for us in the center of the room with the spiraling red mosaic waves on the floor. Fubuki was nude.

## Chapter 13. Fubuki's Punishment

The scene where I helped Inannah punish Fubuki is described in great detail in my secret diary pages. It was a powerful experience for me as a young succubus, so I'll try to convey the overall impression of the scene with a similar weight.

Fubuki's long hair was done in a thick braid pinned on top of her head, exposing her supple neck and the angular curves of her nape and shoulder blades. Inannah placed Fubuki on her hands and knees, then locked her wrists with metal cuffs.

Inannah produced a long silvered bar from the wall of the room, and I helped attach the bar to the backs of Fubuki's ankles. Inannah showed me how to work the spreader fittings. I was distracted by Fubuki's exposed sex with its well-worn petals. It was strange to see Fubuki that way, posed in a vulnerable position like she enjoyed posing me.

When Inannah handed me the cane, I clenched it tight to keep my hand from trembling. Inannah nodded and gestured that I should begin. I began with the backs of Fubuki's thighs—the places where she'd made me hurt.

Only when I saw the red stripes blooming on Fubuki's skin did my anger start to fully flow, thinking of my own stripes that I'd seen in the mirror. I thought of the pain and the suffering Fubuki had inflicted on me, even if I couldn't directly remember all of it. I swung harder. My vengeance was not to be denied by any angelic hesitation.

I caned Fubuki from her calves to her thighs. I striped her ass. Inannah was careful to show me the proper ways to hold and swing the cane. Fubuki made sounds of restrained suffering. I guessed that she was suppressing her feelings for the purpose of denying me satisfaction. For my part, I hadn't held back when I'd moaned and cried. Fubuki's superiority only stoked my fury further.

Inannah stayed my hand when I moved to Fubuki's lower back, but only to replace the cane with a wide leather strap. Inannah paused the scene again to demonstrate technique. Inannah's blows, compared to mine, were crueler. After Inannah gave me the strap, she reached low between Fubuki's thighs and began to stimulate her.

I was aroused from Inannah's intimate attentions to Fubuki. I had a transient fantasy of changing places with Fubuki—such was my intense ongoing desire to have the Mistress touch me. Fubuki soon lost her poise and control. She set to moaning and heaving, and I was grimly satisfied. Inannah had broken Fubuki's composure like I hadn't been able to.

I was intoxicated with the power that Inannah had handed to me, and I didn't want it to end, but soon Inannah stayed my hand and took the strap. I examined the marks while Inannah replaced the leather strap among its mates on the wall. Fubuki's skin was hot and soft. I caressed down to her buttocks. She shuddered.

Inannah returned to the table with a leather case. She unfolded it on the slab next to Fubuki's knee. Inside the case was an array of knives in discrete sheaths. The handles of the knives were polished wood.

"Fubuki doesn't understand how much you've suffered to join us here in Hell, Shar-si," Inannah murmured. "She doesn't respect you. I've given Fubuki an easy and pampered fledgling life. She has never wanted for anything. You, on the other hand, have seen things, done things, and suffered in ways that Fubuki-si cannot imagine. We will give her a small sample of what you have suffered so she can learn about herself through feeling what you have felt."

"Yes, Mistress."

Inannah reached low and pulled hard on Fubuki's wrists. Fubuki fell forward over the slab table, and Inannah dragged her so Fubuki was lying flat with her head and arms hanging over the end. She settled next to Fubuki on the slab.

"Sit there on the other side, fledgling," Inannah said. "Steady yourself. The cut must be precise—not too deep, nor too shallow. I'll be your guide."

"Yes, Mistress."

I sat where Inannah wanted. I held the knife that she'd given me. Inannah wrapped my hand with her own stronger one. I laid the knife to Fubuki's skin where Inannah indicated alongside Fubuki's left shoulder blade. The knife cut into Fubuki's flesh. Inannah guided my hand in a long slow stroke that left a wash of blood in its wake. Under us, Fubuki groaned and cried out. Her chest heaved with her deep breaths, making the cutting still more difficult.

"What in the hells are you doing?" Fubuki protested.

"Like so," Inannah said, ignoring the outcry. The moon-silver in Inannah's eyes was burning bright and fanatical in the low lamplight. The pattern of the long cut was obvious. The wound on Fubuki's back exactly matched my own where my angel wings had been severed from me.

We switched sides, and we made a long parallel cut on Fubuki's other shoulder blade. When we finished, Fubuki's sweat was beading on her skin and running in little rivulets alongside her spine, mingling with her blood.

When the cuts were done, I felt horrible for Fubuki. All of my anger melted into sympathy, so much that I started to cry. Fubuki was my sister. I just wished she would love me as such. Inannah blotted Fubuki's back with clean linen. I looked away and wiped my tears, embarrassed to be so weak.

Inannah and I bandaged Fubuki, and then the Mistress said I was done. I could go to sleep. Inannah smiled. She seemed pleased with me. When I got up, I glanced down the inner pit hallway at the low glows of the slave boy halos down there in those gloomy cages. I ascended back up into the warm house, looking back one last time at Fubuki, who lay on the slab table with Inannah bending over her, whispering in her ear.

I had no idea how I was going to go to sleep. I went to my bedroom and snuffed my lamp. I shucked my dress and lay there on my bed. My heart was still pounding. My whole body felt alive and aroused. What had I done? I was so deep into sin. The succubi were evil, I knew, and that evil was running all through me. I wished that I could remember my angel life if only to gain a perspective on how far I'd fallen from it.

I realized that I needed to be writing the episode down in my diary pages, but my emotions were totally spent. I could scarcely move my limbs. I would try to do it in the morning after I slept. As it turned out, it was a good thing that I didn't light a candle, lock my door, and take out my pen.

Soon I heard footsteps in the hall. I heard whispers, harsh murmurs, and a slamming door—the door to Fubuki's bedroom. My own door handle clicked and turned. A figure slipped in—a dark form in my room that resolved into Inannah. She sat on the edge of my bed, just visible in the low glow of moonlight coming from my window.

"How are you feeling, my fledgling?" Mistress Inannah's hand cupped my forehead as if testing my temperature. "Fubuki is very angry with me."

"I'm fine, Mistress," I said with a tired sigh. "Thank you for letting me punish Fubuki. I'm worried about what she might do now."

"Do you feel sorry for her? Do you feel pity?"

I choked. "Yes. Just a little."

"Don't worry, fledgling. We succubi heal unnaturally—far faster than humans or other lesser beings. She will recover in a few days. Her pain will go away, and she'll be left with an important lesson and a pair of faint scars, not nearly as visible as your own, or mine from my husband for that matter. You did well, my lovely young fledgling. I'm proud of you tonight."

Inannah leaned and kissed my cheek, even as sparks of pride and happiness soothed my tense and hollow chest. Inannah kissed my lips, just a brush, then full on. She licked my lips and tested with her tongue. An electric thrill ran through me. Inannah slid into my bed with me and pressed the length of her body against mine. She grasped my hand in hers, moved it down, and pushed it between my thighs. She guided me to masturbate. Her hand held my own to add extra pressure and warmth to my efforts. I kept trying to trick her and move my hand out of the way, and finally she gave in. I was too tired to do it myself, anyway.

Inannah rubbed me directly with her fingers sliding up and down over my sensitive clitoris. After a minute, she began to kiss me and finger-fuck me at the same time. I writhed, bucked, and fucked her hand. I clung to her and dared to grip her hair in my fist, the better to press her mouth to my lips. I was in paradise, and I wanted to make the most of every single second.

I finally moved into an incredible orgasm that hit me slowly, a sweet and gentle approach that was so unlike Cole's dominant male decimation. Inannah was introducing me to a new kind of female sensuality. It was what I'd always wanted. The Mistress stroked my hair softly. She kissed me and nuzzled my cheek with her nose.

"I love you, fledgling," she whispered. "You know that."

"I love you too." I could _feel_ Inannah's love for me in that intimate moment. I could feel it with my succubus senses, and it felt real. I didn't want the Mistress to leave my bed. I held tightly onto her arm and refused to let her get up. Inannah asked me if I was having any memories of Heaven or other images that were disturbing me. So much had happened that day that I scarcely remembered, but I said yes.

I told the Mistress vague terms of the images that had come to me when I'd swung Fubuki's cane around that morning. I told her about the woman with the grey braid. In retrospect, it wasn't a good idea, but I was so tired and drained that I wasn't thinking.

When the Mistress left, I slept well. I stretched on the bed. I luxuriated in myself and imagined Inannah still with me as a lingering protective presence. I thought I knew then what love was, or some kind of it. I trusted my Mistress.

Mistress Inannah had done so much for me. The cruel punishment of Fubuki had connected with something deep between me and Inannah—something profound, magical, and meaningful. Inannah could be harsh and cruel, but I truly believed that she loved me.

## Chapter 14. The Goad

For several days I didn't see Fubuki, who was apparently in her bedroom recuperating from her wounds, except when she crossed the hall to bring my tea. She would knock, enter my bedchamber with her eyes lowered, transfer the teacup from the tray to my desk, and leave. No words were exchanged.

At first I felt a thrill. Fubuki's punishment had shut her up. She wouldn't even look at me. Finally she was going to leave me alone. I worried that it wasn't over though. How angry was Fubuki? Fubuki could easily poison my tea. I imagined myself drinking the tea, falling into a paralysis, and dying alone on my bedroom floor. I drank the tea anyway, such was my need, and for a week that was the extent of my contact with the wounded Fubuki-si.

Fubuki didn't come to the evening feedings either. Inannah and I commanded the parlour. We offered a prayer to the Lord and the Lady, and then we ravished our slave boys to feed our succubus Hunger while Fubuki took her slave boy in her bedchamber. Between Inannah and me, there was a special intimacy from that point forward. When we were in the same room together, I could feel it, like we had a special psychic connection. I was Inannah's favorite fledgling, and I was nestled safely under her wing.

Inannah was soon busy with guests, however. Two succubi arrived from the capital—a stern older succubus with greying hair and a grey uniform decorated with gold bars, and a younger succubus who was a beautiful brunette like Fubuki, but taller and more muscular. Both succubi looked important and wore low-slung swords strapped to their hips.

Inannah held private meetings in her office with her guests. Things were happening in the capital and in the distant plains of Erebus, she told me—things related to the war with Heaven. Inannah still promised that we were going to leave for the capital soon. The summer storms were growing each day with increased intensity.

The coming move pleased me. I could see Cole again, or so I prayed silently to Lilith. I still considered our relationship to be temporary until Cole grew tired of me, but viscerally I hoped it could last forever. It was silly, but I secretly dreamed of marrying him in some future decade. I wanted any attention that he was willing to give me, especially if it involved his cock and his seed.

I was mostly left to my own devices during these days. I often locked my door at night to catch up on my secret diary. I mused anew on my mysterious past as a spy. I wondered what I'd done for Hell and how I might have affected the politics of the gods. I asked Inannah about the war. I asked about her guests. Inannah told me little. I regretted my rift with Fubuki then because I felt like she might have confided more.

I worried about how to keep my diary hidden during a transition to the capital. How would I transport my pages safely and secretly to Inannah's house in the city? I had a very thick sheaf of handwritten pages at that point, and if they were discovered, all of my deepest thoughts and desires would be revealed. As my diary thickened, so did the difficulty of hiding it from prying eyes.

One night, completely unexpectedly, my world turned over yet again. Mistress Inannah visited me in my bedchamber. I was lucky again to have already put away my diary pen. Inannah seemed happy about something. Her business was going well, and so was the war against Heaven. She kissed me and climbed into my bed.

Inannah had brought her wicked little hooks, and she put a couple into me. I didn't mind. I knew it pleased her, and I was happy to be with the Mistress. Inannah touched me and helped me masturbate like before, only her ministrations were much more patient and prolonged, and she penetrated me deeply with her fingers in between the rubbing. She did this expertly—far better than Cole.

"You belong to me," she whispered in my ear. "You're mine in a way deeper than you can ever understand."

"Yes," I agreed. The words of the Mistress sent me over the edge into orgasm. After the Mistress made me release two times, she removed the two hooks, kissed me goodnight, and left me. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, but I awoke in the dead of the same night.

I was startled by the weight on top of me. It was a moonless night, so it was dark in my bedchamber, and at first I thought it was Inannah again. No, it was a lighter weight with a sweet smell of jasmine. Fubuki-si had pinned me by straddling my thighs. One of her hands was knotted in my hair. I felt the cold edge of steel against my neck.

"I want to kill you," Fubuki hissed. "I'm scarred forever now, and it's all your fault. My life was perfect until you came along and ruined everything. The Mistress doesn't love me anymore. She only loves you."

"I'm sorry," I whimpered. "You deserved it for everything you did to me."

"I did nothing to you. This stupid charade is stupid."

"Nothing?" My cheeks went hot. I felt light-headed, such was the strength of the anger and hurt that surged in me. I summoned courage from my emotions. I considered whether I could fight for the knife before Fubuki sliced my throat. I slowly edged my hand out from under the covers. "You beat me again and again Fubuki-si, and I didn't do anything to you. You deserve worse."

"No," Fubuki insisted. "I did nothing."

"You're lying," I said as I slowly bent my elbow. "You're pathetic. It's no surprise the Mistress doesn't love you like she loves me."

"I'm so tired of all of this," Fubuki said.

"Fine. Then just let it go. It's over." I braced my foot against the thick edge of the window frame above the bed. I tensed my body, ready to grab Fubuki's wrist.

"No, not even close." Fubuki sniffed. "The Mistress is obsessed with angels, and that's why she gave me those wing-scars. Since you arrived here, my only flaw is that I'm not an angel like you. I've never beaten you, Shar-si. I've never even touched you with a single finger."

I almost trembled with fury. "You're lying! You think I can't remember it? You think I forgot already because of the tea? Well, I'm not that stupid. You can't fool me."

"Mistress Inannah is a great sorceress." Fubuki pulled the knife away from my throat so she could bend low and whisper in my ear. "She's been casting an illusion on herself and taking my form. She's the one who did all of those things to you. Sometimes she even brings your tea instead of me if she feels like it. She notifies me with her messenger bird so we can deceive you without getting things mixed up."

I was confused. "You've been deceiving me?"

Fubuki sighed. "Not me. Mistress Inannah punishes you, just as she determines the amount of black nectar to put in your tea to make you forget everything you knew before she adopted you. She doesn't care about healing your scars. She only wants your mind totally devoted to her."

"That's ridiculous."

"When you thought the Mistress was away at the capital, did I beat you then? Did I do things to you?"

"You were horrible. My marks only fully healed a few weeks ago. Inannah said that I could have vengeance if you tried anything again. You did, and you deserved to suffer for it."

"No," Fubuki insisted. "It was the Mistress. I was the one who flew on a wyrm back to the capital. I spent an entire afternoon in Dis shopping and buying things just for you. The Mistress gave me a list of things to get and a hundred gold aurei to pay for all of it. She arranged the flight for me, then she took my form with her illusions to trick you for two entire days after I left. Did she touch you? Did she do more with you than just a punishment? Did she give you an orgasm?"

I swallowed. "I can't believe this."

"I knew it! The Mistress is using my body to indulge in her forbidden desires with you. That way if anyone catches her breaking our Lord's law, she could let the devils take me away in her place. I hate her. I hate her!"

"I still think you're lying to me. Explain why would Inannah do that. Why would she want to hurt me? She loves me. It doesn't make sense. I went to her and complained about you, and she took pity on me. She let me have vengeance. You're just trying to confuse me."

Fubuki snorted dismissively. "No. I know exactly what the Mistress is doing. It's a technique used since the beginning of succubus history. Lady Lilith herself did this to stoke the first two succubus fledglings. It's called a goad."

"What's a goad?"

"It pushes you into opening yourself more to passion. It drives you to love your teacher, because your teacher will sympathize and protect you from the thing that is causing you pain and fear. The Mistress made you hate me because she knew you'd run to her bosom for comfort. In a normal goad, I would have really hurt you, but I told the Mistress six moons ago that I refused to do it. I liked you. I felt sorry for you. I didn't want to hurt you. So the Mistress went ahead and did it herself with the help of her illusions and sorcery."

"What's the point of such a goad?"

"I told you, Shar-si. To make you love Inannah and to drive you to open your heart and soul to her so she could influence you fully. And now you love her, don't you? I heard the sounds earlier. She was fucking you, wasn't she?"

"She was, and I wanted it."

"So you admit it. It's disgusting, and worse because your love for the Mistress was born from trickery. I've done everything to help Inannah with you, and the Mistress has rewarded me with these horrible scars like an angel slave. I think she talked with Cole too and persuaded him to leave me so he could be a teacher for you."

"I'm sorry, Fubuki. I don't know what to say or think."

"The Mistress escorted you to Cole's party too. It wasn't me. She told me she danced with Cole to draw attention away from you. Then she punished you when you came back, and then she punished me for something I didn't do! These scars are too much. This is unacceptable."

I licked my dry lips. "You sound like you're telling the truth, but I can't believe the Mistress would have done that to you if you didn't deserve it."

"I don't care what you believe, Shar-si, but you should know what the Mistress is capable of. I just wanted my revenge on her for doing this, and I'll have to be satisfied with the doubts in your mind. Don't forget what I told you. Hold this one thing in your memory. You can't trust Inannah. She's an ambassador for Hell's Court. She deals with Heaven and even the Unseelie Fey, who are the most conniving and cunning creatures in all of Hell. Inannah is as cunning as them."

"Wait." I grabbed for Fubuki's arm, but my fledgling sister climbed off of my bed and stalked away. My door thumped shut, leaving my dark bedchamber swathed in a pregnant silence. I felt very disturbed by Fubuki's words. Was Fubuki lying to me, or was she telling the truth?

The sad thing was, despite what I'd said to Fubuki, I couldn't truly remember many details of the previous moons directly in my head. I could hardly even remember with clarity the previous weeks. The party at Cole's villa was already vague. The black tea was taking everything away. I could still remember the events of my beatings, but the details were missing. I needed to refer frequently to the scrawled handwriting in my diary, which was far more legible than my memories.

My emotions were in turmoil again. I was torn with confusion, and I was awake most of that night trying to decide what to do. I was so frustrated by my inability to remember things. I locked my door, lit a candle, and studied my diary for hours. How much had I forgotten? How many clues had I missed?

I needed to stop taking my tea. I wondered if I could dump it out, and I wondered if Fubuki might turn a blind eye since she was angry with the Mistress. I could possibly use my chamber pot to throw away my tea. I resolved to try.

The next morning, I stayed strong and suppressed my need. I thanked Fubuki when she came with the tray, but I didn't get up and drink. I remained in my bed and told her I would drink in a few minutes. Fubuki paused and acted like she wanted to say something, but I buried myself under the blankets on my bed.

I made the tea disappear. I did the same that night after the slave-taking, even though my cravings for tea were intense. That night, sure enough, without my tea I had a dream. I saw a few tiny fragments of my memories—a place and a few faces. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The next morning, however, my hands were trembling, and I couldn't quite stop them. When Fubuki came with my tea, she looked at me and sighed. She shook her head with pity in her eyes. "Shar-si, if you don't drink the black nectar tea the Mistress gives you, you'll get sick."

"What is black nectar?" I said.

"It's made from the black poppies that grow in the valleys of the Lethe river," Fubuki answered. "The poppy farmers harvest the flowers and process them for use. It's very expensive. Drink it, or you'll get sick. You can't just stop floating in the black like that. You have to go very slow. For your own good, I'll have to tell Mistress Inannah. It will be obvious to her anyway."

I got out of bed and drank. I gulped the tea down, and then I asked Fubuki for another cup. Fubuki smiled at me with a certain smug superiority and brought me what I wanted. I was floating deep in the black all that day. I told Mistress Inannah that I felt sick. That evening, I took my black tea again dutifully.

I decided that I needed to re-think. Perhaps I didn't need my memories to determine whether Inannah was a fraud. I couldn't count on my memories coming back, and I didn't have that kind of time. The question was whether I could really distrust Inannah. Was I willing to take Fubuki's word for the way things had happened?

Despite everything, I loved Inannah. I flirted with going to her, confronting her, and confessing what Fubuki had said. No. I couldn't summon the nerve to do it. I knew that Inannah would talk circles around me, make up an explanation, and send me on my way with a double cup of tea.

I decided I had to do something. I'd try to catch Inannah in the act of deceiving me. Only then could I demand to know why. I could also use that opportunity to confront Inannah about my tea, armed with what Fubuki had confided in me. I wanted to know exactly what the tea had been doing to me. I would refuse to take any more brush-offs and half-truths. If I could catch Inannah in the act, I would gain a big advantage.

I scoured my diary for the times when Inannah had supposedly punished me. I studied my entries concerning Cole's party. I strained to remember more in my mind. A common detail emerged—a difference in Fubuki's eyes. Whenever Inannah had supposedly taken the form of Fubuki, I'd observed that the moon-silver in her eyes was unusually bright.

## Chapter 15. A Piercing Revelation

I was emotionally unstable during these days. The tea felt like a soggy blanket over the bog of my memories. My memories were compressed and dense like the earth, decaying and coming apart, so much that they'd become mere black mud with nothing holding them together except rotten muck.

I recorded in my diary pages that I was ready to give up. I wanted to surrender and trust Inannah. I wanted to rip out the relevant diary entries, destroy them, and pretend like the conversation with Fubuki had never happened.

I was fully under the sway of the wicked black tea. I both hated and loved its control over me. The tea was a cruel mistress, just like Inannah, and the darkest, most twisted parts of me loved both of them very much. Was it so bad to be a slave to the powerful forces that controlled my life?

Somehow I managed to hold onto my plan of trapping Inannah when she took Fubuki's form again. A deep part of me remained focused—a deep core of pride. I wanted to be treated fairly and not like a fool. In my moments of doubt, the nagging feeling also persisted of wanting to know who I really was—who I'd really been before I became a succubus.

Inannah, conversely, was in a good mood. She was winding up her affairs and making arrangements to pack up the country house and move back to the capital. Since Inannah was busy, she gave me some history lessons on current events. She gave me more books from her library that spoke of the old gods and their ways—the ways practiced before Lord Deus gained supremacy with the spread of Christianity.

I learned that orgies, slaves, and all forms of lust had once been accepted everywhere on Earth before they'd been made into criminal perversions. We succubi served these old ways. We served the forces that worked to return Earth to an unrestrained, unholy, more unchaste state.

I dug further into the _Concise History Of The Succubi_ during these days as I lay brooding in my bedroom. I was particularly compelled by the stories and rites of marriage. I was still thinking of Cole, of course, because I missed him. I wrote this in my diary pages a number of times. The slave boys were all well and good, but I craved a real man to talk with me and a real cock to fill me. There was a decadent difference between a cock that I controlled and a cock that controlled me.

Otherwise, I was still longing for a woman, even as Inannah held me at arm's length. I was at her beck, not she at mine. She didn't visit me again in the night. She reminded me that our delay in going back to the capital was due to her work. She was trying to finish a final edit of a book on angel slave training.

Inannah said that her book was titled _Des Anges Et Leurs Plaisirs_ —Of Angels and Their Pleasures. It sounded interesting, but I didn't read French. The Mistress assured me there would be a number of translations. She was glad to be done with it, because she was taking a new position in the Serpent Sisterhood when we returned to Dis. Her life in Dis would be busy. She would juggle roles as Ambassador, Councillor for the Serpent Sisterhood, and devoted housemistress and wife for her husband, all while she tutored Fubuki-si and me.

Inannah regaled me with tales of the capital, a few of which I recorded in my secret diary—references to decadent happenings, incubi, and guests from Hell's Court, where Inannah's devil husband was a high official in Hell's legal system. Inannah spoke of political parties and promised that I'd meet vampires and exotic pointy-eared Fey from far-off places.

Inannah seemed tense about the coming transition, as if she wasn't sure I was ready. She kept coming to my bedroom and supervising me with the dressing boy Paulo, making sure I understood every nuance of my cultivated look without a thread of my clothing stained or out of place.

The Mistress said that in the capital I would need to be shaved, painted, primped, corseted, coiffed, and looking perfect. As her fledgling, I would often be on display in front of important people, even at our home where she and her husband received frequent visitors. Inannah also said I needed to look good if I wanted to attract more male friends than just Cole. I had to admit this intrigued me, and I wondered if I could attract female friends too.

I was still sewing, working on my clothing projects for the boys. Inannah put me to work mending the wardrobes, replacing a few buttons and re-sewing torn clothing that often happened while the boys cleaned and tended the gardens and stables. The Mistress wanted all of our clothes mended before we left.

Inannah was exacting with the results of the sewing efforts. One day this led to the confrontation with Inannah that I'd been wanting and dreading. Paulo and I had done a sloppy job on one of Fubuki's stockings. Inannah frowned when she examined it. "This is bad. You used the wrong stitch, and you did it poorly."

"The stitching will be behind Fubuki's knee, Mistress. No one will see it."

Inannah cleared her throat. "No. Everyone will see it. I can't have my fledglings looking like urchins. These clothes are very expensive. You don't have a proper appreciation for perfection and finer things yet, my fledgling, but you will when you're out in high society in Dis, walking among true beauties who you aren't fit to be in the same room with."

"Yes, Mistress."

"How many times have I told you not to slouch and lower your eyes submissively? You're doing it right now. How long will it take to break your angel nature?"

"I don't know, Mistress. I'm trying."

"Try harder. We need to stoke your pride. You need to be fierce to be my fledgling. In fact, that reminds me. There is something that I want to do with you. Perhaps we can do it now, to remind you to take more care with your needles. Come with me."

Inannah grabbed my hand and led me through the foyer from the sewing room. We went up the curving marble stairs to the second floor. Inannah's hand was hot. She wore the same cold curl on her lips as Fubuki when she'd caned me. Inannah took me up to my bedroom, which was bright in the afternoon with sunlight coming through the barred window.

"Get undressed," Inannah commanded. "And sit here by your mirror. Fubuki-si will be here soon. A few ornamental piercings will enhance your beauty in the capital. I made Fubuki suffer to know your suffering. Now you'll suffer to know hers."

Inannah slipped from the room and closed the door behind her. I didn't wait by my mirror. I went to my door and listened at it. I heard Inannah walk down the hall to her bedroom, where she was silent for some minutes, and then I heard Inannah's faint footsteps again. The footsteps stopped at Fubuki's room.

I pressed my ear to the door and heard muffled distant voices that went on for some minutes. I listened carefully, straining for a hint of what was happening. Finally, I heard more footsteps. They emerged from Fubuki's room and came towards me. I stepped away from my door only seconds before Fubuki pushed through with a tray in her hands.

I met Fubuki's eyes. Her moon-silver browns were very bright, brighter than usual as she turned to set the tray on the writing desk. The tray didn't have a teacup on it—instead it carried a pair of pliers, a few needles, a folded serviette, a flask of liquid, and a pair of diamond stud earrings.

I froze in place. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I'd heard no other footsteps than Inannah's. I was almost sure that only one set of footsteps had come from Fubuki's bedroom, which meant that either Inannah had remained in Fubuki's bedroom, which was absurd, or the real Fubuki was still shut in her bedroom, and the Fubuki in my bedroom in that second was Inannah in a sorcerous form.

"Get undressed," Fubuki said with her usual accent. "What did Mistress tell you? She said to get undressed."

"Fine." I swallowed. I was almost sure, from the tone of the voice and the inflection, that Inannah was standing before me in a yellow kimono with a doll-face and talking like Fubuki. I pushed my dress up. Inannah helped me. When it was off, I looked deeply into what I felt sure were Inannah's eyes. My lip and chin were trembling, although I wasn't sure why. Inannah pursed Fubuki's red-petal lips. She pointed at the vanity.

"Sit at your vanity. Turn your chair and face me."

I went where she indicated and did as she asked, clad only in my corset. Inannah knelt in front of me and set the tea tray on the floor. She held a hooked needle in one hand. She looked closely at my face. She pinched my nostril with the pliers and began to work.

I stared into the painted doll-like face in front of me. I tried to see through the illusion. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I knew I needed to say something. I wanted to wait, however, until Inannah punished me first, if she was going to.

When she worked the needle through my left nostril, the pain rocked the insides of my head. My eyes watered, and I reached up to wipe my tears. Inannah smiled. Her eyes glowed with that fanatical light that could only come from her. Her lips curled into a queer, cruel smirk.

"That hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I managed.

She drew a hook through and worried it to loosen the flesh, then she pulled it the rest of the way. She put the hook on the chair between my legs and held up a diamond stud, a matching ornament to the piercing Fubuki wore in the exact same place.

At first the metal post wouldn't go through, but Inannah was persistent, thrusting it with force into my nose. Inannah adjusted the pliers and worked for long minutes to fix the clasp, all while pain blazed through my cheek and eye socket.

To my surprise, when Inannah finished, she kissed me. Her warm tongue lapped and licked at the little river of blood on my upper lip. My entire body responded. I felt the kiss between my legs. I was so confused and mentally tortured. The pain in my nose had converted itself into a throbbing headache.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"Slide your ass up to the edge of the seat," Inannah answered. She removed the pliers from the seat to give me room. I wriggled forward and gasped when Inannah insinuated her hand between my legs. "Open wide."

I opened my legs. Inannah bent to examine me. She grasped the left lip of my sex and rubbed and pulled. I felt a torrent of heat. I wanted intimacies, but I received a dagger of pain. I gasped.

Inannah's rose-petal lips pursed tightly. She worked, and the pain spread. My left leg trembled. I clenched it as tight as I could to stop myself from closing it. I felt a brief respite, and then more pain and pressure that lasted for a minute, then two.

Inannah growled. My sex felt like it was coming apart. Finally her fingers left my sex, and she took the serviette from the tray with bloody fingers. The serviette was cool and damp. It soothed me when Inannah blotted with it. She pushed it under me.

"It's done," Inannah said with satisfaction, looking down at my vulva. "You can relax."

I groaned and gingerly re-positioned myself on the chair. I clasped Inannah's warm shoulder to steady myself. I couldn't believe how realistic her sorcerous illusion of Fubuki was. Inannah's shoulder felt slender under the heavy cloth of the yellow kimono. Inannah even smelled faintly of Fubuki's jasmine perfume.

In that moment, I needed to know. I summoned the courage to hold into Inannah's shoulder even as she tried to rise up with the tea tray. "Is it you, Mistress?" I said hesitantly. "Mistress Inannah? Or are you Fubuki?"

The doll face looked back at me. A smile spread across Inannah's lips. "I already know that Fubuki told you my secret. She couldn't help but confide in me personally, such is her current desire to hurt me for what I did to her. I was hoping you'd say something, fledgling, which is partly why I concocted this scene. I'm proud of you today, Shar-si. You stepped up and fought for yourself."

I swallowed. "Please, Mistress. I need to understand why you've been hurting me. I know your husband hurts you, so maybe you need it somehow. I've helped you do things to yourself. I can forgive you. I just want to be happy, and to do that, I need to know the truth."

Inannah looked at me impassively. Her face was impossible to read with all of Fubuki's paint and powder, but her voice was silken and cold. "I love you, my dear fledgling, but you must trust me. There are things that must be done to turn you properly into a succubus—into one of us. Sometimes those things are painful, especially for you. No other angel in history has been converted into a succubus that I know of. You are unique. As such, unique methods must be used to train you."

"I want to become a succubus, but I can't if you keep hiding things and lying to me."

"All succubi tell lies, my fledgling," Inannah said softly as she caressed my head. "It's our nature. If I don't teach you to lie and lie well, then I will have failed you utterly."

Inannah's eyes flickered, and then her entire figure dissolved. Within the space of a second, Inannah stood at her full height in my bedroom again. The Mistress reached low and pulled me up by my arm. She turned me around on my feet and pushed me firmly back down to my knees on the hard floor. She grabbed my wrists and put my hands on the polished wood seat of my vanity chair.

I heard the whisper of Inannah's silks, and then the swoosh of the slender cane as she tested it. It cracked painfully on my rear end.

"No," I cried. "Please don't hurt me, Mistress. You're mad."

"You've been bad, Shar-si. You've been thinking rebellious thoughts against me. You've been thinking of ways to betray me. I've done so much for you. I've given you everything. And now this? I'm very busy with many responsibilities. I've gone to great expense and personal effort to take you as a second fledgling. I made a pledge to Lady Lilith that I would not fail. I would succeed in reforming you."

"What pledge?"

"I didn't tell you everything about your past. You want to know more?"

"Yes."

"You were actually a spy for Heaven, not for us. You were captured. You were a criminal, a prisoner. The Hell's Court devils would have broken you, imprisoned you forever, or made you into a wretched slave." Inannah's voice was in a distant place. "I saw your potential at first sight. I vowed to the devils that I could make you into something—a worthy succubus that could serve Lord Hades for an eternity. The Hell's Court devils didn't trust you. They were afraid of you."

"They were afraid of me? Why?"

"There was a third party that actually adopted you after you fell from Heaven and before you met me. Those people were rebels against Lord Hades. They bestowed powers on you and taught you swordplay. I didn't want to tell you because it was unnecessary, but I was personally part of the dismantling of that sect of rebels and criminals against our Lord, and that is how I found you living among them."

"I thought you pulled me from the Sea of Desire yourself. You said you were waiting for me, and then I became your fledgling."

"Your memories on that subject are remarkably acute, considering your black nectar tea. It's true that I skipped a period of your history. When you fell, you were actually taken in by the rebels. Those rebels were lesbians—succubi who loved other women. They took you down a wrong path into their misguided ways. Are you surprised?"

"No. Not really."

"Lesbianism is treason against our Lord and his law. Many of those rebels were sentenced to death. A few are still in prison, and several others were given another chance to live in Dis. As a converted angel, you were considered to be one of the worst and most laughable things ever seen—a freak who should have never been a succubus in the first place. Worse yet, the rebels turned you into a murderer—a vicious little monster who was willing to kill and dismember mercilessly to support the lesbian cause."

"Me? I can't believe—"

"Yes, you, Shar-si. The point is that terrible punishments would have happened if I hadn't stuck my neck out in front of everyone. I convinced the devils that I could help you and convert you to serve Lilith and our Lord properly. Do you remember any of this?"

"No. Nothing."

"Good. The black nectar, you see, was an agreed-upon part of your reformation process. I am risking my reputation on my assertion that I can make an angel girl into a succubus via a careful regimen. I was willing to sacrifice my time and energy for decades to training you as my very own fledgling."

I swallowed. "Why?"

"I believe in your beauty, your intelligence, and your skills, fledgling," Inannah answered. "I'd seen you employ them with my own eyes. So I used my powers of persuasion to sway Lilith and Hell's Court, and they agreed to let me train you and mold you."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You say that half-heartedly. That disappoints me, Shar-si. Fubuki doesn't know any of this, but you owe everything to me."

"I suppose."

"And this distrust and immature attitude is how you repay me." Inannah swung again, and the cane cracked. I cried out. Inannah gripped my hair in her fist to hold me still, and she beat me for a few minutes before she let go of me and left.

I crawled to my bed, curled up, and cried for a long time. I felt so horrible and alone. I felt torn between loving Inannah and hating her desperately. I tried to sift through my memories of our beautiful times together, but they kept fading, slipping away like black butterflies from my desire to capture them.

I tried to hold onto everything that Inannah had told me. I tried to understand the ramifications. Deep in my soul, I guessed that she'd told me the truth, but she'd already lied to me once, if not several times. I didn't know what to think. Lots of facts in Inannah's version of my story were missing. It all seemed summed-up and sketchy, completely from Inannah's perspective. I couldn't trust her—not after the tea and everything that she'd done to me. I needed a second opinion, and I knew of only one person who had stirred my old memories.

When the light failed, and the sunset in Hell's sky cast my bedroom in low tones of lilac, and the clock on my vanity said after the six, I didn't move from my bed. Paulo came at the half-hour to feed my Hunger and unlace my corset. I was relieved to see a friendly face. He loved me and fucked me. When we were done, I straddled him.

"Tell me about the brown-eyed, brown-skinned angel boy in the pit, Paulo."

"Sorry, fledgling?" Paulo's eyes were questioning.

"He's young like me, and Mistress never, ever brings him up for the taking. All of the other slave boys surely come up, but not him."

"I'm not sure who you mean."

I could _feel_ that Paulo was lying to me. I wondered if Inannah had said something to Paulo, instructing him never to mention that particular boy in the pit. In truth, it had been many weeks since I'd seen the brown-eyed boy, and my memories were dim to non-existent. The entries in my diary blurred with unreality.

I resolved to see for myself. I resolved once again, like I had moons before, to sneak into the pit, venture past the room with the tiled waves, and look through all of Inannah's angel boy cages. Once and for all, I would make someone give me real answers—answers that I believed Inannah didn't want me to have. I just needed an opportunity when I wouldn't get caught.

## Chapter 16. Into The Pit

The following day, I waited for the perfect chance to go down into the pit. I made excuses to slink around the house, checking on Inannah's whereabouts. Unfortunately, Inannah was working in her office all day on her angel book with a clear view of the north end of the foyer and the forbidden door.

The Mistress was nice to me at the evening slave taking. She talked to me sweetly. She smiled and kissed my cheek. I didn't understand. I didn't understand how she could love me so much and hurt me. Still, my heart melted when she touched me, and I hugged her. I tried to thank her with my hug for everything she'd done for me and for the intimate moments that we'd shared together.

Inannah came to my bedroom after the slave-taking. I'd just finished my tea, and I was lying on my bed relaxing into my tea-pleasure. Inannah looked out of my window at the thunderheads, which filtered the last rays of Dawn's chariot. She informed me that the time had come. The storms off the Mare Mortis were intensifying, and public wyrm flights from Apertura Arroyo were ending for the season. We needed to pack up and leave immediately for the capital city, or we'd be forced to find passage in an overland trade caravan.

Paulo would ready the leather bags and satchels. I'd be responsible for helping him pack. Inannah took me to my wardrobe and explained how the dresses needed to be neatly folded, my coat wrapped in a sheath, and how every precaution had to be taken in case the scaly wyrms flew into sulfuric rain. Inannah and Fubuki-si would leave most of their things in the country, but I needed to take my things with me.

We'd have a procession of hired wyrms to fly us to the capital—at least two of them to carry Inannah, Fubuki, me, Paulo, Chadwick, and our personal things in baskets on the massive scaly backs of the wyrms. Inannah divined my gloomy, depressed mood. She promised that I'd be happier in the capital. Her home in Dis was far grander than her home in Apertura Arroyo. I'd have a larger, extravagant bedroom and a wonderful hot-water bath chamber that I would share with Fubuki.

Inannah said a different set of slave boys were waiting in Dis. The boys in the north country would receive chastity belts. They'd rest and recuperate for some moons, unable to release their sexual need to the point of being delirious and mad with desire when we returned in autumn. Of course, Inannah delighted in such sexual deprivation, and her eyes twinkled with lust when she described how desperate the boys in Dis would be—those boys who were waiting for us in their cages.

I realized that I was under time pressure. I was afraid that if I didn't see the brown-eyed boy before we left, I might never see him, or at least not for several moons until we came back to Inannah's country château. I considered sneaking to the pit in the middle of the night, but I preferred to be safer. I would wait one more day. When I went down, I ideally needed Inannah to be out of the house.

Over the following two days, I still didn't find a good chance to go into the pit. Inannah didn't leave the house. She was busy with overseeing a myriad of details— the shuttering of windows, the re-stabling of her carriage horses at a stable in town, the emptying of the pool, the packing of her papers in the library, and a myriad other final preparations that were mostly done by the slave boys. The boys were turned out of their cages to work and to see the open sky for a while—all except for my brown-eyed angel boy.

I finally determined, on the last night before we were to leave for the capital, that I needed to go in the middle of the night after Inannah and Fubuki were asleep. I had no other choice. We were leaving.

It was a dangerous plan, but I was resolute in defying Inannah's rule over me. After she'd pierced my nose and sex, when I looked in the mirror sometimes I almost failed to recognize myself.

My eyes were wide and haunted. My eye sockets were tired and dark. My honey blonde hair, despite all of my efforts to brush it out, wore a distinct aura of unkemptness where it fell over my shoulders. My lips, it bears mentioning, were starting to look discolored—blackened from the tea that I'd been drinking. Inannah said I'd need to keep my lips painted to hide the stains.

The diamond stud that Inannah had placed in my nose was like a punctuation mark—a little glittering thing in a silver setting, a reminder right on my face of Inannah's control over me. My sex was similarly transformed. Inannah loved diamonds, and anyone I fucked would see her personal stamp on my nethers, her badge.

I was tense the evening before we left. Tension always made my succubus Hunger rise. I went down to the parlour that night and told Inannah I'd take Paulo to my room like Fubuki was wont to do. I didn't want Inannah to see my rebellious plans reflected somehow in my eyes. I knew Inannah's cunning.

My bedroom was full of packed trunks and boxes. I guided Paulo past them, took off my dress, and laid the slave boy down. I sat across his thighs and stroked him to hardness, letting him look at me, getting him ready for my feeding.

A problem had occurred to me. Paulo was loyal to Inannah, and so were all of her angel boy slaves. They worshiped her at the altar between her legs. If I went down into the pit, all of the slave boys in their cages would see me there. Would they tell the Mistress about my visit? Would they confide in Inannah that they'd seen me? Probably, and I was most worried about Paulo.

I stretched over Paulo and reached low to push his cock into me. His eyes rolled back. I fucked him slowly, rocking my hips sensuously over his thighs. I needed to seduce Paulo. I needed him as my ally. I rubbed my body languorously over him, fucking him slowly and kissing him on his neck and under his chin. I took him like a lover, like never before. I didn't suck with my inner muscles. I stroked. I milked his cock gently. I fucked him for his pleasure, not mine. It took him to his edge and held him there with my muscles. He seemed surprised.

"I love you, Paulo," I lied in his ear. "You're so beautiful. You're my favorite slave, and I've enjoyed spending the afternoons sewing clothes with you. I wish I could have more of you. I wish I could own you, and give you everything, and fulfill your every beautiful desire."

"Thank you fledgling," he said breathlessly. "I love you too."

"When you get to the capital, I'm going to do what I can to get you a promotion," I lied again. "You should be head houseboy or better. You need to be out and escorting me to parties and things too instead of cooped up in the house. Don't you agree?"

"I'd like that," he said cautiously.

"Look into my eyes." I sat up and put my hands on Paulo's chest. The slave boy looked at me, even though he normally wasn't supposed to. I seduced him with my eyes, filling my soul with lust and desire, making him think he was special. In truth, I felt all of those things, but not that much. I ravished Paulo that night. I did things to him with my mouth and fingers that Cole had showed me.

When I was finished with him, I hoped Paulo had enjoyed the special attention, and I prayed to Lady Lilith that when he saw me in the pit later that night, I could count on him to be my friend if I begged him to stay quiet. I lingered with Paulo until Inannah's messenger bird flew through the slit above my bedchamber door and landed on his shoulder, calling him away to tend the Mistress in her bedchamber.

When Paulo left, I pulled out the _Concise History_ and leafed through it while I waited for the hours of midnight. At some point, I made my last entry of my first secret diary, and then I wedged the whole thing into a wooden shoe box for transport to the big city. Yes, dear reader, that was my first secret diary.

You're wondering what happened then. You're wondering what happened when I left my bedroom in the deep of that night and descended into the forbidden underlevel of Inannah's home. You're wondering what the brown-eyed boy had to say to me—how I knew him and how he knew me. I would like to know that too.

I can't tell, for I don't remember it. This book was created, as I said at the outset, from the pages of my diary, which I only found later in my new bedroom in the capital, hidden in the box in which I'd placed them. I'd even forgotten the pages were there, such was my complete blank after I left Inannah's country home at Apertura Arroyo. I didn't discover my old pages until a few moons later when I needed particular shoes in the capital city one August day.

Yes, once again my memories were thoroughly scrubbed away, at least in the short term. I believe Inannah caught me. Perhaps I snuck down into the pit, and Inannah came after. Perhaps I was grabbed on my way back to my room, distracted with the amazing revelations about myself that the brown-eyed boy had revealed to me.

Inannah and Fubuki must have done something involving a strong dose of black nectar. The entries of my second diary mention that I was sick. I wrote of days and weeks of delirium in my bed in my bedroom in the capital city. I had no sense of self or grip on reality then, much like moons before.

It was terrifying, but Inannah was always there as my dark angel, giving re-birth to me like a phoenix, benevolently and patiently reconstructing me. You still haven't been cheated, dear reader. I'd see that brown-eyed boy the following winter when we went back to the château. At that point, however, I was fully Inannah's fledgling with no doubts left in my mind that I was devoted to her and my succubus life. At that point, I was connected to Inannah with bonds that nothing could break. By then, she'd given birth to me twice like a mother. I owed her my life, and she owned my life.

Inannah had finally won the battle. She'd praised me, beat me, lied to me, loved me, kissed me, hurt me, and changed me. She turned my head to lust as inexorably as a sunflower turns its head to the sun.

Or at least, I thought Inannah had won, and I think so did she, until the brown-eyed boy finally revealed his secrets to me. To tell them, I must skip over the moons of summer and autumn in Dis. There is not much to tell from my second diary, but I will try to sum up before bringing this period of my story to an end.

When I recovered from my sickness, Inannah and Fubuki introduced me to the big city with all of its addictions, seductions, and many different species. Many citizens of Dis were dangerous predators, and many others served as submissive prey.

The capital of Hell was a windy city. Storms blew off of the vast Mare Mortis from the west. The Mare winds carried dust, sand, and the cries of slaves from beyond the many privacy walls. Occasionally we received sulfuric yellow-brown rains, stormy torrents like urine from Heaven, or so Fubuki suggested.

The city of Dis was militarized. The war with Heaven was evident. Veterans camped in the public spaces—misshapen demons and ogre grunts mostly. Mistress Inannah said the soldiers had lost their limbs to the blessed blades of the angelic crusaders, or their eyes had been blinded by catapulted holy water. The victories against Heaven hadn't been without cost, although the spoils were evident. The angel war prisoners were paraded down the streets in chains, soon to become slaves to the city succubi.

Inannah's home in Dis was grand as she'd promised. I rarely saw her horrible devil husband, but he spoke to me a few times. He even touched me once with a caress on my cheek that was more frightening than sensual. The slick feel of his froglike yellow-grey skin gave me a shiver. I continued to see Cole, although not as much as I wanted. He had many interests with other beautiful young succubi. I didn't see Master Dredge or Timothy again, but I'd forgotten them until I re-found my first diary and noticed the story of Cole's party.

I was the same naïve young succubus in a different setting. I kept taking my tea as the Mistress wished. I struggled to fit in. I spent many hours in my bedroom reading books or receiving lessons from Fubuki and Inannah—lessons to help me become a better succubus. I wasn't allowed to go to important parties.

The most notable event of those moons was my closer friendship with Fubuki. We shared an adjoining bath, and the air in Dis was very dirty, so we spent a lot of time in that gloomy, humid chamber with its decorative Greek motifs. Sometimes we happened to bathe at the same time. At first, one of us would simply leave, but eventually Fubuki initiated conversations with me, and we agreed that we didn't mind bathing together. This fostered an intimacy that felt sisterly.

Fubuki's scars on her back mirrored mine, and my piercings mirrored hers. Fubuki told me many things, and this helped my nerves greatly. She was in rebellion against Inannah when it came to my training, and she boldly said she didn't believe my tea was good for me. She helped me with my memories in secret, but she couldn't answer questions about my past. She hadn't known me before I'd shown up in the north country.

Fubuki and I never explored lesbianism, but a friendship blossomed between us. We confided some of our deepest feelings and fears. In the end, Fubuki and I held no grudge against one another. Both of us loved the Mistress, but we didn't trust her. Sometimes my sister fledgling bragged about her latest conquests with cocks. I hung on every word, and we delighted together in her successes and misadventures with lust and sex.

Fubuki and I went shopping for clothes occasionally when the Mistress gave us a purse of gold aurei. We took slaves together in the parlour many evenings, just the two of us. Mistress Inannah only sometimes joined the evening slave-takings in Dis.

As I said, there was a different set of angel slave boys in Dis to serve us. I couldn't keep all of their names straight. Asmodai's girls were there too—limp, scarred creatures with their eyes glued to the floor. They drifted like silent ghosts through the hallways of his huge house. I wanted to have one in my bed, and I told Fubuki so, but she insisted they served the Master, and I was wrong to molest them because of our Lord's laws.

One day I touched one of the slave girls anyway. She was a dark-haired beauty named Sheela, who was sometimes responsible for cleaning the upstairs floors, including in the dormitory wing where Fubuki and I slept. I finally dared to invite her into my bedroom under the pretense of cleaning a perfume spill on my vanity top.

I asked her casually what she did for Inannah's husband. I pried her with intimate questions until I managed to rattle her, and then I comforted her with a hug and kisses. My succubus Hunger took over at that point, and I did things to her. The next day Mistress Inannah confronted me. Evidently Sheela had told the Master everything, and the two-faced slave girl wasn't my new special friend like she'd pretended.

Inannah said the Master wanted me punished, but she refused to do it, so I needed to punish myself. The Mistress gifted me with two thin strips of leather. Each strip held a row of curved steel hooks.

The Mistress took me to my room and instructed me to use two of them. She called the punishment a _serpent bite_. I whimpered and tried to talk my way out of it. I was a coward, and Inannah told me so. She humiliated me. She made me angrier and angrier until I finally used the hooks just to satisfy her. When I was finished, Inannah kissed me with a smirk on her lips. She pushed my hand between my legs and instructed me to masturbate after she left.

A week later, Inannah made me punish myself again with a serpent bite for another behavior infraction, and this became a little ritual. I don't know how Inannah coaxed me and persuaded me to use the hooks each time, but she was an expert. Before the end of the summer, I was punishing myself without assistance. The hooks began to stimulate me sexually. When I pushed the hooks in at the command of the Mistress, I was wet between my legs. Masturbation with a serpent bite became natural.

And so summer passed, and the moons of fall, and I languished. I studied every page of my former diary, trying to absorb all of the mixed trivia and revelations concerning myself. Meanwhile, I started writing a new diary. I wrote that I wasn't so interested in quitting my black nectar, but one thing remained constant. I wanted the love of another woman.

The slave girl named Sheela disappeared, never to be seen again. Inannah refused to touch me while we were living with her husband, but she hinted that the situation might change. In November of the following fall, we loaded the carriages again. The drivers took Inannah, Fubuki, and I up the hill road to the southern Dis wyrm landing, which was exclusively used by the wealthy.

We transferred our luggage onto wyrms. We flew up over the city, over Hell's Court, over the great walls of the Disian Coliseum, and over the northern Tartarus wastes towards our country home. The Mare Mortis came into view to the west—a vast desert of rippling sand waves stretching to a line where dryness met sky. We flew into Apertura Arroyo within a few hours. We hired porters, readied carriages, and did everything again that we'd done in the city of Dis several moons before, but in reverse.

My thoughts were single-minded through all of that bother. My thoughts were on my first diary that I'd re-discovered in the box, and on that brown-eyed boy who I'd considered all-important. I still wanted to pay that boy a visit. I still wanted to discover myself and my past, unfiltered by Inannah's half-truths.

## Chapter 17. Good And Sweet And Kind

When we arrived back at the country château that autumn, Fubuki dealt with the carriage drivers and luggage while Inannah showed me through the home, since I'd forgotten a lot of things. She explained once again that the pit door was forbidden. She showed me the old parlour where we would take our slaves. She showed me the swimming pool.

Paulo was cleaning the pool. He greeted us. He'd flown up a week earlier, having been promoted. Chadwick was no longer at the house, or at least my diary has no more mention of him. Inannah took me to my old bedchamber, where I began to unpack. Later that afternoon, Inannah came and told me she was leaving. She was horsing up a carriage and going for a long ride into Apertura Arroyo to catch up with succubus friends.

When I heard the carriage leave, the house fell silent. I went downstairs to the foyer. I wanted to end the mystery and explore the forbidden pit. After reading my diary for the last three months, the pit in the north country was a legend in my mind, and the brown-eyed boy was like a fairy tale. At that point, I didn't mind if Inannah punished me. I secretly liked attention from her. Except for the intense pain of the serpent bite, I almost enjoyed her punishments, which inevitably ended in masturbation and an orgasm.

The door to the pit was unlocked, so I breezed right through without a second thought. I followed the pit stairs under Hell's crust. I entered the warm room with the red mosaic waves. I passed the slab table, which smelled of fresh polish of some kind.

I followed the passage still deeper into the pit, deeper than when I'd helped Inannah cut Fubuki's skin. I entered a long room with an arched ceiling, which was high enough to accommodate an L-shaped row of old tarnished silver cages.

Several slave boys were there, although their faces were unfamiliar in my tea-washed memories. All of the boys wore heavy chastity belts that imprisoned their cocks in shell-shaped prisons. In fact, the room of cages reeked with the pent-up desire from those boys, who stirred in their cages when I approached. Their desperate eyes followed every movement of my body. I could feel the lust ready to explode in them. My succubus Hunger stirred in my belly just from their proximity.

I found him sitting in the last cage on the left. He had square shoulders, narrow hips, and light brown skin. He was a young man with boyish features, a bit skinny, on the cusp of muscular manhood. His tarnished gold halo shimmered in the darkness just above his head. He was nude except for his chastity belt and his gilded collar with a D-ring.

The boy stared up at me with his desirous chocolate eyes. He climbed to his feet and approached. His brown fingers went white-knuckled when he gripped the silver bars of his slave cage. I could feel his intensity, his desire, and his recognition of me—a profound and heated thing.

I stretched my succubus senses across the short distance, and a heady lust stirred through me. In all of the previous moons, I'd never felt such a strong thing in a slave. I guessed the mysterious slave boy not only knew me from some former life—he actually loved me.

"Speak, slave," I told him, a little bit breathless and unnerved. I could hardly wait to hear what he said. I ignored the other slave boys, who all pressed to their bars to see what was happening. "Speak, boy, and tell me your name."

I waited for the boy to answer. I expected some kind of revelation, and I prepared myself for yet another futile and tiring tug-of-war with my missing memories. No answer came from the slave boy. The boy blinked as he stared steadily at me. His eyes glistened in the low light. He shook his head and took one of his hands away from the cage bars to point his finger at his mouth.

I peered into the cage to look between the boy's white teeth. My stomach quivered. I felt faint. My diary pages had detailed Inannah's cruelties, but until that moment, those cruelties had melted into an abstraction to me. Words and thoughts flitted into my mind, and all of them lacked connections, like ashes from the phoenix settling, borne on the wings of night horrors.

The brown-eyed boy had no tongue—just a stump. I'd never seen such a thing, but I was familiar with a cruel elder succubus who liked to cut on people. I clenched my fists, and my body was flooded with the most intense anger that I'd ever felt. Fury towards Inannah poured through my succubus being. No. I would not be denied. I ran all the way back up to my bedchamber and rummaged in my trunks for a pen, ink, and writing paper. I took it all down to the pit. I set the implements inside the brown-eyed boy's cage.

"Write," I said. "You have ten minutes to tell me who you are and how you know me. I've lost my memory. I need to know everything."

The angel boy nodded and grabbed up the pen eagerly. His writing was clumsy and almost illegible, but I recognized the angelic script and the words that were forming. When he was finished, he handed the paper to me.

I am Anin. I was your boyfriend at the Holy College Of Sacred Doves in Heaven. You jumped and I jumped after you to save you. The succubi took you away from me. They transformed you. They made you into someone else. They made you into a succubus. They made me into a slave.

I love you, Shar. You are beautiful. I know the real you like none of these evil witches. You aren't like this. You're good and sweet and kind. Your favorite color is pink. You're shy. You think kissing is a sin.

Please, Shar. Try to remember who you really are. Try to think back to the angel girl you once were, before you became corrupted by this horrible world. Try to remember the real Shar before all of the darkness got its hooks into you.

I love you. I don't know what else to say. I love you.

I looked at the angel boy named Anin in amazement. He was right, in a way. Mistress Inannah had taken away everything I'd been before. The boy was wrong though to think I could go back to my old self.

"Was I really a spy like the Mistress tells me?" I asked him. "Did I turn to the succubi and join them willingly? Did I betray Heaven?"

I handed Anin another piece of paper. He hesitated. His face scrunched, as if the memories pained him. He wrote lengthily before he handed the paper back to me with the pen.

Yes. You were a spy for Heaven. You were a Ministry agent, a mole that was supposed to let the forces of Heaven invade. We lived with Aphrodite. You loved women, but not me. You were discovered as a spy, and they sent you away. I made a deal with one of the succubi, and she helped me find you.

I thought you wanted to escape, but you decided to stay. You liked living with Aphrodite. You didn't want to go back to Heaven. Hell's army came with Mistress Inannah, and everything changed. You killed people. Inannah arrested you. She took me too. What is she doing with you, Shar?

I folded the paper slowly in my hands. I tried to think of more questions to ask. I gestured for the angel boy to come close. Anin pressed to the bars, and I kissed him full on the lips. I reached through and pulled him close to me. We embraced with the bars between us.

I reached for the boy's chastity belt and caressed the warm metal prison with my fingers. I wondered if I could find a key somewhere. I'd never felt such need as I could _feel_ in that brown-eyed boy. The boy shuddered viscerally. Another pained expression crossed his face. I could feel him recoiling, but at the same time, he couldn't help but thrust himself towards me.

I understood his suffering. Firstly, his chastity belt didn't offer much freedom for his cock. Secondly, he was in love with a part of me that lived only in his memory—an innocent angel girl who he could never have again. I caressed his cheek and whispered sweetness in his ear.

"I love you too, Anin. Very much. I'll be back."

A tear streaked the boy's cheek then. I pulled away and left him. I felt twisted inside. Had my words to the boy been true, or were they another succubus lie, a lie that had come automatically to me without thinking twice? I didn't even know anymore.

I hated myself a little bit as I climbed the stairs again. Did I really believe, deep down, that the old me was hiding somewhere deep inside me? No. Inannah was confident that I was fully a young succubus, and I thought she was right. There was no going back—only forward into my new and decadent life.

I'd been a spy. I'd taken risks. Perhaps I'd been a double agent. I wouldn't put such a thing past myself, and if so, my memories had a potential to be dangerous, just as Inannah had intimated. Maybe things were making sense. What of Aphrodite? I couldn't remember. I'd need to check my diary.

When I emerged from the pit door, Fubuki was loitering in the foyer, arranging a vase of fresh flowers on the table. I didn't worry that she'd tell the Mistress what I'd done. We were sisters. I went to my room and threw open my vanity drawer. I unpacked my most intimate things, including the two leather strips of hooks. I drew a hook from one of the leather strips and settled on the bed.

I raised my dress above my hips and lowered my panties with my thumbs. I ran my fingers over my bare mons. My skin was rough. Because of the hubbub with the trip, I hadn't bathed or shaved in two days. I pinched my skin with practiced fingers and pushed the curved needle in. I released the skin and curled my toes from the tiny agony.

I'd been a bad fledgling to go down into that pit. I'd been very bad. I'd betrayed Inannah's trust in me. I needed to be punished immediately. I was reaching for the second hook when I heard the footsteps outside my door. I heard a soft knock. The door pushed open. I froze on my bed. It was Fubuki who strode into my bedroom, but it was not Fubuki. Her eyes were too silvery, and her lips were curved into a soft smile.

With our return to the north country, the Mistress had returned to her old sorcerous tricks. I knew this because she shifted back into her normal form right before my eyes. She nonchalantly swept her long white-grey hair over her shoulder and clipped it with a silver ornament.

## Chapter 18. The Most Decadent

"You really thought I had gone, Shar-si?" Inannah said. "I left, but I came back. I was waiting for this. I was waiting for you to go to him again."

"How did you know?"

"Last year you hid your secret pages in the old unused dumbwaiter, fledgling. I knew it was there, but I didn't say anything. It's fine that you were hiding your writing from me. I don't mind. I don't even mind that some of my ink and paper go missing occasionally."

My stomach clutched. Apparently I had no secrets left. "Why didn't you take those pages from me, Mistress? Why did I find them in a box in Dis?"

Inannah shrugged, and cloud passed over her face. "I'm a fool, and I'm too nice to you. We need to destroy that evidence of our indiscretions. Still, I admire your spirit, my fledgling. I don't want to kill it. I want to stoke you. I was also able to read everything and keep track of what you were thinking and doing, the better to protect you from yourself." Inannah drifted to the writing table where I'd left the brown-eyed boy's mute love-message. She picked it up. I crossed my arms over my chest and hugged myself as I lay on my bed.

"He loves me, you know."

"Oh yes," Inannah murmured as she studied the brown-eyed boy's letter. "He loves you more than I've ever seen an angel love a succubus. I've been studying his love for my research. I've been using that love to stoke him. The taste of his love for you is delicious, and so is his profound hate for me and everything I've done with you."

"I noticed his horrible cut-off tongue." I couldn't help but tinge my words with acidity. I glared at Inannah. "How could you ever cut on such a beautiful boy? How could you do such a thing to him?"

"It's a pity. Hell's Court mutilated all of Lady Aphrodite's slaves that way after Her rebel city was captured. Aphrodite treated her slaves differently than the laws of our Lord dictate. Those slaves were not given papers. Instead, they were given free will. Ridiculous. The Hell's Court devils didn't want those slaves spreading ideas about a better life in a rebel society. The surviving slaves from Aphrodite's rebel city were silenced, including Anin."

My throat clenched, and I tried not to let my glare waver. "Why didn't the devils give them tea like you're doing to me?"

"It's too expensive to waste on a slave. The potent variety of poppies grow only on the most fertile low banks of the Lethe. The cultivation has improved in recent decades, but if the river dries up or swells too high, a season's harvest is ruined. Even a perfect harvest must be hand-brushed from the stamens by trained slaves wearing gear to guard against temptation."

"I can imagine."

"I didn't wish for Anin to be mutilated, fledgling. I'd prefer that he could express himself verbally with me. Our relationship would be easier. As it stands, he's even more special and more of a challenge. I'm not surprised Aphrodite saw him fit to serve in her palace."

Inannah looked away then, and my anger felt somewhat mollified. I wasn't clear about who Lady Aphrodite was or the nature of the rebel city that I'd supposedly lived in. I tried to pull the strings from my memories, but my fishing turned up nothing. I was consoled that Inannah hadn't cut out the boy's tongue. I felt still more sorry for the angel boy.

A peace came over me—a kind of catharsis. I wanted to trust Inannah, and I did for the most part. Aside from the tea and her tricks of illusion, she hadn't truly betrayed me. She was training me. I was her fledgling. She cared for my well-being. She gave me so many nice things. Overall, I was still secure in my faith that she knew what was best for me.

Inannah folded the slave boy's message and tucked it into the cup of her corset. She crossed the room and settled on the edge of my bed, stopping only to pick up my strip of hooks. She lifted up my dress and examined the hook that I'd put in my mons. I tried to push my dress down to hide my self-punishment, but Inannah grabbed my wrist, staying my hand.

"Let go," I said.

"Use another one. I told you the pit is forbidden."

I reached low, pinched the other side of my soft mons, and inserted the second hook while Inannah looked on. The pain of the completed serpent bite burned deep under my skin and pooled in my stomach. It dripped down to ache also in my sex. I needed that ache in that moment. I needed to feel something. I needed to feel everything, especially my pain.

"There." I lay back on the bed like a rag doll. "Are you happy, Mistress?"

"Oh yes," Inannah said in a low tone. "I'm looking forward to spending this winter with you."

I thought I knew her meaning. I looked up into her bright moon-silver eyes. Inannah seemed quietly pleased, and that always made me happy. I wiped my eye, and my fingertips came away wet. I reached for Inannah's arm and dried my tears on her skin.

"Thank you," I said. "For everything."

"Now that we're away from the capital, fledgling, and away from my husband, I was hoping that we might renew our bedroom lessons. Is that fine?" Inannah bent over me. Her warm lips brushed against mine.

"Yes, thank Lilith," I whispered.

Inannah stood up and took off her skirt. Underneath she wore black stockings with no panties. When she returned to the bed, she straddled me with her strong hips and thighs. She held my strip of hooks in her hand. She lay warmly over me, enclosing my body.

"May I put more of these in you? Please?"

I blinked in shock. I couldn't remember ever hearing Inannah say please to me. "I don't understand why you have to be so cruel and hurt me, Mistress."

Inannah sat up and swung her hand to smack my cheek, but I grabbed her wrist. She stared into my eyes, and we glared at each other for a minute. Inannah's lower lip trembled. "I'm a pathetic bisexual succubus who secretly loves her own fledgling. I'm a tragic embarrassment in the eyes of our Lord, not to mention my husband. I pray often to Lilith, begging her to forgive me. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say?"

"Put the hooks in me. I know it pleases you, and it pleases me too."

Inannah grabbed my hand and lifted it up to her mouth. She suckled on my fingertip. "The more you are like me, the more we can be together, fledgling. The possibilities excite me. I've never felt this way with anyone else. In truth, there is no one in this world who I can trust more than you. I hope you can continue to trust me too. I love you so very much."

I frowned, trying to understand those enigmatic words while Inannah let go of my hand and placed the hook strip on my stomach. She shifted her position down so she could pinch the sensitive skin in the hollow to the left of my mons. I sucked breath and squirmed as the third hook slid in. I struggled a little bit, not to escape but to feel the pleasure of how firmly my legs were pinned by Inannah's thighs.

Inannah worked on the fourth hook. I moaned softly for her. I felt a tickle of wetness between my buttocks then—the proof of what Inannah had done to the angel girl that I once was. It was the most decadent of all possible wetnesses. I wondered what the brown-eyed boy might think of what we were doing. I looked at the folded corner of his crumpled, pathetic declaration of love, which was just visible above from the rim of Inannah's elegant corset.

"Can I have him?" I said suddenly. "I want to taste him, that slave boy."

Inannah's eyes glittered like her diamonds when she looked down at me. "Yes. I've plans to goad him this winter. His love for you is so strong that it would be a waste not to exploit it fully."

"You'll exploit him with a goad?"

"I think so. We could have fun together with Anin, actually. In fact, we can start today, if you want. An idea is brewing in me."

"I'd like that." I bit my lip. "Yes. I'd like to see him again."

Inannah put two more hooks into the soft skin of my lower stomach—a third serpent bite. My stomach was awash with pain from hip to hip. I could see the cool grey-silver eyes of my Mistress thinking and calculating. She stood up from the bed then and offered me her hand. I took it, and she pulled me to my feet. I gasped as my skin stretched against the hooks. My black dress fell back down over my stomach and legs, hiding them. With every movement of my body, pain washed anew, all the way down to my thighs and into my wet sex.

Inannah led me back out of my bedchamber, and we both descended the stairs into the foyer once more. Every marble step was a _petite agonie_. We passed through the foyer and further down through the forbidden door, and down more curving steps into the cool stone slave pit.

The Mistress led me once again through the room with the red mosaic waves and along the inner hall into the slave quarters. As before, the angel slave boys stirred in their cages and pressed against their bars with desperate, maddened need in their eyes. Anin watched us approach with his beautiful brown eyes wide. Inannah led me directly to his cage and positioned me in front of it.

"Lift your dress for him," Inannah said. "Hold it high."

I dutifully lifted my dress up above my hips. The Mistress turned me slightly and ran her fingers over the hooks in my skin to make sure that Anin noticed them. Then she pushed me hard against Anin's cold cage bars. Inannah's hand fell on my ass with a loud slap, and another. She spanked me with a heavy rhythm.

I gasped. Every slap on my ass jolted my body against the bars and sent new ripples of intense pain from the hooks in my stomach. I couldn't help but let the pain register on my face. Tears overflowed my eyes and dribbled down my cheeks. The brown-eyed boy looked on with his melting eyes wide. I met his gaze, even as I made little cries. Anin's eyes held nothing but desperate love and sympathy for me. I could _feel_ it.

I was a spanking virgin as far as I could remember, but Inannah ended that. When the Mistress finished with me, she seized me hard by my hair and twisted my head to look at her. I whimpered and sobbed a little bit.

"You're never to go into this pit again, do you understand? This is my slave boy. I own him. He's my property. He serves me and only me."

"Yes, Mistress," I answered breathlessly. The hair-pulling hurt. Inannah wasn't holding back, and I wasn't surprised. I knew that she was taking pleasure in what she was doing to me. I was taking pleasure too. I'd wanted such intimate attentions all summer in Dis. My insides were turning to jelly, as if the serpent bites were hot coals, melting my tension into a miasma of pure desire.

"You're not to see Anin again," Inannah continued coldly. "Do you hear me, fledgling?"

"Yes, Mistress," I repeated. "As it pleases you, so it will be."

I wanted Inannah in that moment. I wanted her to fuck me right there with her fingers and give me an orgasm, but Inannah dragged me instead by my arm back out of the slave quarters while the slave boys looked on with smirks of amusement. The Mistress escorted me back up the pit stairs, and once we were back in the warmth and light of the marble-paved foyer, she gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek and a hug.

"You played it almost too well, fledgling," she said. "You'll disobey me and go back down there, of course. That's the plan. You'll visit Anin. You'll tell him that you love him so deeply that you felt compelled to disobey my direct orders. You'll convince him that you came to him secretly, in defiance of me. I'll give you a copy of the cage key, and you'll enter his cage and drain his wonderful love. You'll take every drop of wonderful pent-up love that you can get from him."

"Yes, Mistress."

"A few nights from now, we'll arrange things and I'll catch you with Anin. I'll punish you in front of him again. But still you'll keep going down to see him while I'm away. You'll declare your undying love and devotion to him. He'll be in awe of your sacrifice and suffering—the proof of your love for him. His angel boy love will weep even more for you, and you'll reap that passion with your succubus feeding."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said. "This goad will stoke his emotions, then? It will push him to greater heights for the taking?"

"Oh yes," Inannah affirmed. "We'll both enjoy him this way. You'll suck his love from him, and I'll drink his hate. Both are very powerful emotions. You don't know yet how it feels to take hate from a slave, but I'll teach you some day. It's an acquired taste. Now go on up to your bed and finish what you started. I want you to think of me while you're doing it."

"Please come with me, Mistress?"

"What have I said about begging? You're testing my patience. I'm going back down to have a few words with Anin. This is too perfect of a moment to waste. I want to taunt him. I want to stoke his feelings still more deeply towards me."

I sullenly climbed the wide marble stairs. I was looking forward to having Anin, even if it had to be via Inannah's cunning ways. I understood how our ruse would stoke him. My succubus Hunger definitely wanted that boy. I wanted to drain every drop of his love. In return, however, I was sure that Anin would get nothing but more torture and heartache.

As I entered my bedroom, I felt strangely queasy. The outcome for the slave boy really didn't appeal to me. Inannah's cruelty, paradoxically, had opened a door to a reservoir of sympathy inside me. I lay on my bed, but I was no longer in the mood for suffering, nor for pleasure. I didn't touch myself. Instead, I took the hooks from my skin.

When it was over and I lay on my bed, feeling the pricks ache like little matchsticks burning me, I decided that I was actually on the brown-eyed boy's side. I didn't know him, but I had every intention of secretly loving him as passionately as he loved me. I didn't want to just pretend.

Yes, I was a rebel, and I wanted to challenge myself. Inannah's goading plan had an opposite and unintended consequence. Deep down, I was contrary enough to try and actually love that slave boy. He loved me, after all. That flattered me. Could I love him back? Perhaps I once had.

I went to Anin that night in the pit as Inannah had instructed. I opened his cage with the key and unlocked his chastity belt. He was literally trembling with mingled pain and happiness. I pressed against him. I could feel his inner torture with my succubus senses—his love for the angel girl that he'd lost.

I explained to him that I was disobeying Inannah. I wanted to make his pain go away. I kissed him and soothed his poor damaged soul with my own. I tried to know him although he couldn't speak to me. The boy had soft brown hands. He moved his hands over my skin with wonderment, like discovering something from his dreams made real. His cock rose for me quickly, and so did his love, like a turtle emerging from its stifling shell.

Anin fucked me deeply on the stone floor of the pit. I wrapped my legs around him and took him in. His love was the most wonderful thing I'd ever felt. When he came abundantly into me, it was like a divine revelation sent to me by Lilith. I could taste Anin's angelic sweetness in my very being. It was the most wonderful thing. The taking felt different in a way I couldn't describe, different from any of the other slave boys. The love resonated within me, and when Anin and I wrapped together, skin against skin, I paused to run my fingers over his gold collar. His collar was a curious thing—a weight and a symbol of his prison—of Inannah's ownership.

In the days and weeks to follow, I would care for Anin more deeply than I could remember caring for anyone, even myself.

## Chapter 19. The Double Double Bind

Winter slowly passed in Inannah's château in northern Tartarus. It was my second season there, and everything felt fairly familiar to me. During the previous year, I'd written that the country was dirty and sulfuric, but compared to the smog, grit, and sulfur stink of the city of Dis, the northern shores of the dry Mare Mortis were like a breath of fresh air.

Cole arrived in town, and he starting seeing me again, just like the year before. As always, I harbored a strong undercurrent of yearning for him. I went to his place for a few parties with Fubuki as an escort.

At the same time, I kept seeing Anin according to Inannah's plans. I took joy every time I fucked him down in his cage under the château, although his little straw bed was uncomfortable. I grew ever fonder of Anin's lovely taste, which was so sweet and full of his love for his old angel girlfriend, who of course had been transformed into a succubus slut from Hell.

I acted out the relationship as planned, as if it were taking place behind Inannah's back. I suggested to Anin that I was coming to him to give him succor—love and relief from that horrible, wicked witch. The ruse titillated me. The goading was interesting, and it brought me closer to both Inannah and the boy.

Inannah, on the other hand, made it clear to Anin behind my own back that he was her slave and off-limits to anyone, especially me. She punished him harshly for thinking of me, pretending that she could read his mind. I often noticed the stripes on Anin's backside. The slave boy hated Inannah ever more passionately even as he bonded more and more deeply with me.

This went on for several weeks, until one night everything with Anin would change, as always in accordance with Inannah's schemes and specifications.

After the slave-taking that evening in January, Cole arrived after sunset. I was delighted. We went out into night, which was cool, breezy, and inky black. Cole summoned a magical glow—a spell called a _tenebris lux_ —to hover above us. We talked, laughed, and walked along the country road while the groves of cobra-leaf trees hissed soft nocturnal music for us.

When Cole and I got back, I dragged him up to my bedroom as usual. My black tea was waiting for me on the side table. The cup was only half full. Inannah had slowly reduced my dependency down to half as much as the year before.

I downed my tea while Cole stowed away our coats, and the gentle tea-pleasure took over my body. I begged Cole to ravish me, and he did. We took off our clothes and I gave him fellatio. I wrapped my long hair around his cock. I fingered his ass. I knew how much he liked that.

We climbed onto my bed and did a sixty-nine. He was a little rough with me. He caught my left nether lip between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged at my diamond piercing. Cole had always been sweet, so his cruelty that night surprised me. It also secretly delighted me. In that time, I desperately needed someone to confide in. Fubuki and I had become good friends, but she'd always kept a certain aloofness.

That night, I dared to share with Cole my two little leather strips full of hooks. I told him what I did with them.

"You're a naughty girl," he said admiringly.

I wasn't ready for Cole to put hooks into me. That was Mistress Inannah's privilege, but I wanted Cole to know what pleased me. He told me often enough what pleased him. I was shy that night, almost like an angel girl. I surprised myself. Maybe some of Anin's innocent love was rubbing off on me.

When we went to the sex, I asked Cole to pull my hair, and he did it while he fucked me. He slapped my ass. He spanked me. When I came the second time, I was utterly uninhibited. I made animal sounds like I'd once heard Inannah make in the dream world. I was like a smaller echo of her.

Cole finally filled me with his incubus seed, which by the end of our coupling I desperately needed. Afterwards, I lay with Cole and kissed him endlessly, drifting on a sea of tea-pleasure and intimacy with the incubus who infatuated me. No other man seemed to understand me like Cole.

After a while, Cole and I went at it yet again. Cole was in my bed for one or two hours before he left. I was devastated and emotionally spent, so I didn't write in my diary. I was writing openly at this point, it could be mentioned. Inannah had known all along that I was writing a secret diary, so I ceased trying to keep it a secret.

It was after midnight when I climbed tiredly out of bed to take my usual mid-week trip to see Anin in the pit. Cole had made me come hard, and my succubus Hunger wanted a little nightcap before I fell asleep. I descended the silent foyer stairs and went down through the pit door.

For the first time, however, Anin wasn't in the pit. His cage was empty, and his cell door was standing open. I went to Paulo's cage, opened the door, and quietly woke him. Paulo was trusted to put himself away. His cage door wasn't locked.

"I think Mistress Inannah took Anin out," Paulo sleepily confided in me. "After I unlaced her corset, we came down here together. She took Anin upstairs. That was hours ago, I think."

I frowned and stalked back through the room with the red mosaic waves, up the pit stairs, then up again to the second floor. I tip-toed to Inannah's door. I heard nothing, so I pushed it quietly open. I stared in shock. Anin and Inannah were lying side by side on her bed. They were wrapped up in each other—both naked with their limbs entwined in the dying candlelight. Anin's limp, fuck-flushed cock poked against Inannah's pale thigh.

I had to admit that I felt an intense envy, dear reader. Anin had never been up to my bed, of course, and according to the rules of the goad, Anin was supposed to hate Inannah. A lovely little sleepover wasn't supposed to happen.

Worse yet, it was I who wanted to be sleeping in Inannah's bed. She'd said that our private relations would resume since we were back at the country château, but after the first night in my bedroom, it had never really manifested. Our relationship had turned almost businesslike, with Inannah obsessing and theorizing endlessly over the finer points of Anin's emotions instead of forbidden lesbian love with me. I went back to my bed in a turmoil of Hunger and jealousy. I wished Cole hadn't left.

The next morning I awoke with a need to know what was going on. I got dressed, put my hair up, and painted my lips with the sole intention of looking good when I went to confront Inannah. As always, I'd need every bit of courage I could get with her. I found the Mistress alone in the library.

"Why did you sleep last night with Anin?" I said. "I've never seen you sleep with any of the slave boys in your bed."

Inannah leaned back in her chair. A characteristic clever smile bloomed on her unpainted lips. "The boy needed consolation. I was there for him. I made him feel better."

"Consolation? Why?"

"Well, I instructed Anin to stand outside your bedchamber for an hour while you fucked Cole. I made him press his ear to the door and listen to your noises. He heard the sounds of your pleasure. He heard some sweet things you told Cole. He heard how much you loved Cole, and the things you wanted Cole to do to you. That was nice timing, my fledgling. The outcome of the effort far exceeded my expectations."

A strong heat stole over my cheeks. "Why did you do that?"

Inannah smiled softly. "Because it's time that Anin should come back to me, fledgling. I told him last night that you didn't really love him, and that you never would. He believed me, because of course it's true. He needed to come to that realization himself, and thence find his way to surrendering his soul to me completely. He did, like a good boy. This is a wonderful success on a number of levels. I plan to make it an example when I write my next book about angel training. His lingering love for you was the last bastion that was holding me back from his soul. Now I finally and truly have him."

"I can't believe you did that! I do love Anin!"

"No, you don't, my fledgling. You only think you do. A succubus feeds her Hunger. You cannot love a slave any more than a wolf can love its furry prey. If you require any more explanation, I happen to know that when you were an angel girl you never truly loved Anin either. You spurned him."

"How do you know that?"

"I have it in writing. Anin wrote the facts down himself. He knows the truth about you, and he confided it in me. He'll never be who you want, and he never was. He knows you were always pretending, and now that you're a succubus, it's even more painful to him. He can't take it anymore. The game of the goad is over, my fledgling."

I felt a fury creep through me. I clenched my fists. "I loved him. I loved being with him. You make me so angry sometimes, Mistress."

Inannah smiled. "With the revelation of your true deceptive nature to Anin, he was presented with a double double bind. I told him that I loved him, even though I hurt him. You told him that you loved him, but you lied. He will never have you, and you will never have him."

"Only because he's your slave and not mine."

"Partly. So I persuaded Anin to let go of you and end his own suffering. I told him that his best choice was me. I've hurt him as part of his training, just like I've hurt you, but I'm deeply devoted to him in my own loving way. Anin had an inevitable choice to make. He made it."

"With your persuasion, I'm sure."

"Perhaps, but all angels have a subtle gift of telepathy that they bring with them from the mental realm. It's part of what makes them such fascinating slaves. Anin has finally accepted the truth that he knew all along. From now on, he will happily serve me. He's now resigned and accepting of his slave life. He will be my most devoted and special slave boy for a very long time."

"I hate you," I said.

Inannah's moon-silvered eyes were hooded. "If you'd still like to have him, and you're nice about it, we might work something out for the evening feedings. You have your own double bind with me. Let this be a lesson."

"But you don't truly love me either," I continued recklessly. "It's all that I ever wanted from you, and you keep betraying me."

"I gave Anin to you in the first place. I didn't have to concede that. I could have just punished you for messing with my precious project and been done with it. Of course, that would have left Anin short of perfection."

I bit my lip. It was true. Inannah had given Anin to me at least temporarily. She'd shared her favorite toy with me. Inannah stood up then and came around the desk. I fell into her, and she embraced me warmly. My heart was thumping. I tried to accept the idea that Anin had been taken from me. His mouth and cock had been so incredibly sweet. Inannah's fingers caressed my head. I pressed up to kiss her, but she turned away.

"Why won't you ever kiss me?" I asked.

"I don't feel like it right now," Inannah replied.

I pushed away from her in disgust, but she grabbed me back, spun me around, and found my lips with hers. I opened to her, but I was passive. I pulled away again.

"I'm going to my room."

"No," Inannah said. "There is something else you must do."

"What is it?"

"Go and punish Anin spitefully. This is the last piece of his training that will seal his devotion to me. I've been working on Anin now for over two years. For the rest of the winter, he'll visit me in the evenings, venerate me, and find his true devotion to his eternal mistress. But first, you must sever things with him on your side completely."

"Oh, so you still need me then? I thought we were finished. No. Sorry. I don't think so."

"This isn't a request. It's a requirement."

I steeled myself. "No. I'm not playing any more games, and I'm not afraid of you any more, Mistress. I care for Anin, unlike you. I refuse to go and hurt him."

"I understand." Inannah looked at me with her eyes bright. "I was kind to give Anin to you, but apparently that isn't enough. You won't be selfless enough to do this for me out of gratitude. What if I offered your own slave to train? Could another angel boy replace Anin in your heart?"

"I don't want another one of your slaves. Anin is unique."

"I could purchase you a new one. Your slave would be an angel war prisoner—poor, beaten down and defeated, but yet with a spark of hope, a desperate yearning for some form of love and meaning that he has lost. You could touch him out of pity, like with Anin, and if you do it right, he'll reward you with his devotion. Is that what you'd like?"

"Not really."

"I didn't really think so. What about a girl?" Inannah settled on the edge of her desk and crossed her arms. She gestured at the nearby armchair. "Have a seat, fledgling. I'm an ambassador for Hell. This is what I do. I'm prepared to negotiate all day with you if I have to."

I scowled, but I couldn't help but be intrigued by the possibilities. I sat down. "So you'd find me a girl-slave of my own, like one of Cole's or Asmodai's?"

"Yes. I see you like that idea." Inannah drummed her fingers on her knee and hitched her short skirt slightly. "In fact, I have a confession to make. I was planning to leave you and Fubuki here alone for some moons this spring. I'll be traveling to Elysium to take part in a special operation against the Seelie Court Fey."

"What kind of special operation?"

"Each spring, the two great Courts of the Fey—the Seelie and the Unseelie—send ambassadorial delegations to visit each other, and thereby maintain political relations. This year one of these delegations will be betrayed. It's a time of war. Bad things happen. Archduke Belial has consolidated his victory against the angels at the Trivium and will send a division to invade the isles of the Seelie Fey, using the arrival of the Unseelie delegation as an opportunity to breach the Seelie veils."

"And you're going to be involved with this?"

"Yes. It looks like I'll be sent to help negotiate the inevitable surrender. Lord Oberon, the King of the Seelie Fey, hasn't paid his tithe in three years. He bet on Heaven to win more battles in Elysium, or at least to cause significant delays in certain things. Oberon erred in his judgment. Lord Hades and Lady Lilith require that the Fey will pay the ancient penalty."

I bit my lip. "If you're leaving, then Anin will be lonely. It will be a good opportunity to let me stoke him again for you."

Inannah smiled at me. "Clever girl, but I'm taking Anin. I'll require a slave boy porter and a fine cock to take my sustenance from. He is the best I have available. The trip will be dangerous, but I'll want him with me."

I sighed. "Fine. You win again."

Inannah arched her eyebrow. "You're conceding so easily? And here I was thinking that I might have to take you with me across Tartarus, Erebus and Elysium, and over the bounding Sea of Desire. You're right. It would be too adventurous for you. There would be nightlong wyrm rides, sailing ships, dangerous battles, and deadly betrayals. The Fey are treacherous, and their beautiful besieged island will be a hornet's nest."

My heart thumped a little bit at the idea of traveling with Inannah and seeing far exotic climes. "I'll go with you on your trip, but I still won't hurt Anin."

Inannah examined her fingernails. "You see, fledgling, there is a penalty assessed when the Seelie Court Fey do not pay their tithe to our Lord—they must surrender their own sons and daughters to be slaves. Fey slaves are the most exotic, rare, and beautiful slaves in all of Hell. Would it not intrigue you to possess one?"

"Maybe. If she's a female."

"Of course. She would be an exquisite creature born from the fair leafy woods and the salty sea. No slave is as beautiful to train, not even an angel. Normally, Fey cannot be legally obtained because they have an eternal pact with Lord Hades. Yet if everything went well, my fledgling, you could potentially become one of only a few dozen legitimate registered owners of a Fey slave in all of Hell."

"I'd like to go, but you'll be busy. I'll be in your way."

"Nonsense." Inannah shifted and pressed close to me. She looked deeply into my eyes. "There is something more that I haven't told you, fledgling. You were once a great student of swordplay. In fact, to a select few who know who you really are and what you can do, your skills are brilliant. You're a highly skilled swordswoman, a blade fledgling."

I snorted with laughter, as if Inannah were joking. I felt curious tears spring to my eyes, however, and I reached up to wipe them. Inannah's words touched at things long lost—things still deep within me. It was a familiar feeling.

"That's hard to believe," I said, nonetheless. Such were my profound insecurities. "Ridiculous."

"It's true. In fact, I've intended from the very beginning for you to become my personal bodyguard and assassin. If you go on this trip, you'll start practicing with your blades again with the blessing of Lady Lilith. Your job will be to protect me."

"I don't know what to say."

"Anin knows all of this, of course," Inannah continued. "He's always been jealous of you. He loves the girl you once were and doesn't understand that you had to move on. Deep down, he's still a typical angel male who thinks that girls should pray, sew, and be subservient. Anin isn't so sweet and innocent in his love for you. He would like to see you go back to being a simple, dull girl, reduced to nothing more than a frilly, white-stockinged object of his male affection. You're so much more than that."

"So let me get this straight," I said. "I'll begin practicing with a sword so I can re-discover myself as a swordswoman. I'll go away on this trip with you. Then I'll get a female slave to train as my very own and take every night into my bed, if I see fit."

"If Hell's army succeeds in occupying the Blessed Isles and bringing the Seelie Fey to their knees, I will get a female Fey slave for my fledgling. At worst, I will hunt high and low for a female angel as a consolation. All of this has but a small price. You must complete Anin for me. I'm trading you a very valuable future slave so I can finish training the one sitting in his cage."

I swallowed. "Yes, Mistress. I'll do it."

Inannah smiled widely. "Excellent. I'll require one more thing, aside from punishing Anin. You see, I'll be giving you a deadly sword and helping you recover your memories. This could be dangerous to me, and I'd also like to keep reducing your tea. I want you to agree to an powerful fate spell—a _geas_ that will prevent you from ever trying to betray me."

"I wouldn't ever hurt you, Mistress. Sometimes I'm angry at you, but I will always love you."

"Sometimes things change." Inannah watched me closely. Her cold silver eyes made me uncomfortable. I was suddenly afraid of what she was thinking due to my hesitation.

"Of course," I said. "I agree with whatever is needed."

"Good. Anin will go back into his chastity belt for a few weeks while he re-considers his feelings. On the night of the next red moon, we will perform the ritual, and then you can go to the pit and do what you need to do. Be cruel to that boy who loves you. Tell him you lied. Use a cane for at least thirty strokes on his ass and thighs. I'll want to see the evidence of what you've done."

I nodded. "I promise."

"After you are under your geas, and Anin's training is fully complete, we'll have a few weeks before we pack up and leave on our trip. A military succubus from the Serpent Sisterhood will be coming up to visit, then she'll be traveling with us. I'm going to convince her to give you sword lessons. That way I'll have two bodyguards instead of just the one."

I couldn't help but laugh again at the idea of me being a swordswoman and moreover Inannah's bodyguard, but Inannah's expression was completely serious.

## Chapter 20. The Circle Of The Oath

After the ten on the next dies Saturni evening, under the light of the red Tartarus moon, I left the château with Inannah and Fubuki-si. We bustled across the gravel drive. All of us looked resplendent in our black dresses. We piled into Inannah's rickety country four-seater. Paulo cracked the whip, and we rolled off to Apertura Arroyo.

It was the night of my oath—the night that I would pledge to serve Inannah forever and never raise a finger to hurt her, in exchange for a moons-long adventure out in Hell somewhere, a sword in my hand, and a female slave to call my own. Or at least, that was the deal on paper.

As for Anin's punishment, Inannah had been right yet again. I'd realized that I couldn't really love that slave boy, not like I loved Cole. Inannah's wisdom once again was beyond my own. I was proud to be her fledgling, and proud of the young succubus that she was making of me. I loved the power, the lust, and the life of wealth. I was a young succubus princess, and Hell was my oyster.

The night was peaceful and perfect. The carriage horses were eager to run in the moonlight. Within twenty minutes, we arrived at the home of one of Inannah's friends. The home was grand like a castle and decorated in medieval styles with heavy oak furniture, colorful tapestries, and torches burning in wall sconces. One room was a shrine to Lady Lilith, with a statue of the serpent mother hovering over a low stone altar. A wide circle had been inscribed in the center of the room—a circumference of chalk on the smooth, polished grey stones.

Several succubi were there to greet us. They were well-dressed and wealthy types from the city—some of Inannah's friends and colleagues. Inannah introduced me to them, but soon we dispensed with the social formalities. The evening was all about the oath between me and my Mistress.

The High Priestess—a real priestess of Lady Lilith—was to perform the spell. She asked Inannah and me to disrobe. We undressed with Fubuki's help while the women formed a double line to escort us into the circle. Inannah and I entered the circle clad only in our corsets. We joined hands. The women set to chanting around us. They droned in Latin words that I didn't understand. The scent of ritual incense hung thick in the air.

The High Priestess stepped forward and asked for my hand. She cut my palm, and then Inannah's, and as the pain laced through my forearm, I sealed my pact. Inannah and I re-clasped hands. Our blood mingled between our fingers, slippery and wet in homage to our great beloved goddess of sex and blood—Lady Lilith.

The succubi chanted and raised the power. The spell was cast. I said my oath to Lilith with the Fates to bear witness, and Inannah did the same. Inannah and I would be bound together for all eternity. I could never raise a finger to hurt her, nor she me. We would be of one mind and purpose, in service to Lilith's will, as succubus mistress and earnest fledgling.

When the ceremony was over, the High Priestess gave me the ritual knife. I took it and looked at the priestess questioningly. She smiled and ordered me to try to stab Inannah. Inannah wanted the spell to be tested to be sure it worked. Such rituals had been performed on fallen angel slaves, but never on a fallen angel who had been turned into a succubus.

I steeled myself. I wasn't going to show everyone how nervous I felt. The room fell silent when I lifted the knife. Inannah lifted her chin to take the blow on her chest. A small smile played on her lips.

I felt strange poised with a blade in that moment, like a viper waiting to strike. A turmoil of emotions surged from within me like a flood. A deep part of me wanted to plunge that dagger into Inannah. I thought of everything that she'd done to me and all of my anger towards her. The sudden feelings shocked me, yet I recovered and willed myself forward to attack.

My hand wavered when a tried to stab Inannah. It was like my arm was paralyzed. I grunted and dizzied. The force of my arrested momentum threw me off balance. The magic seized my body and hurled me aside. I spun and landed face-first on the floor. Everyone crowded around to help me up bodily. The High Priestess pried the knife away from my trembling fingers.

"It's done," Mistress Inannah said. "You're ready, my fledgling. Tomorrow you will punish Anin. After that I will give you a blade, and you will begin your training. Someday, perhaps you will join the Serpent Sisterhood and train formally as an assassin for Lilith."

The ritual room dissolved into smiles, pats on the back, and relaxation. A cork popped, and wine was poured. Fubuki came up and gave me a hug. Her eyes were wide with respect for me. I felt a powerful pride wash through my body and rise higher than I'd ever felt before. Fubuki was always the one bragging about her conquests. This time it was her turn to be impressed.

When the celebration was over, Fubuki and I climbed back into the carriage with Inannah, and the slave boy cracked the whip, and the carriage rolled into the night. I sat close against Inannah—so close that I could feel her heat against my thigh. The power of my Mistress always stirred me. I felt happy and relaxed. Thanks to the spell, Inannah could no longer hurt me, even if she transformed into Fubuki before going it, or so she had assured me. She could only love me, and I knew she would.

Inannah and I both turned at the same time. We looked into each other's moon-silvered eyes in the night. I hugged her, brushed her neck with my lips, and rested my head on her shoulder. Inannah held me for a few seconds, then pushed my head gently away.

Deep in the darkest pit of my succubus soul, I was aroused by pledging myself formally to my Mistress. It was as close to marriage as I thought I could come with another woman given the laws of Lord Hades against such things. I wondered if Inannah felt the same way.

Whatever happened, my future was replete with possibility. The information that I was really a great master of blades, combined with Inannah's confidence that I would be great again someday, had changed everything. I felt more confidence than I'd ever felt as a succubus.

Best of all, I would soon go on a great adventure in the lands of the Fey, and if all went well, I'd come home with my very own slave to train—a slave girl who would do whatever I wanted and obey me in every way. The prospect intoxicated my succubus senses. I still needed to punish Anin to uphold the agreement with Inannah, but that would be trivial. I'd say some cruel things to him, cane him thirty strokes as Inannah asked, and call it a day.

I admired Inannah's desire for her slave boy to be perfect. I knew that I'd aspire for my slave to be perfect too, but I had much to learn. Inannah's warm hand came to rest on my thigh. I glimpsed a smile playing on Inannah's black-painted lips as the carriage rolled through Hell's moonlight towards home.

# II: The Dark Heart

## Chapter 21. The Hunt In Asphodel

The second part of my diary picks up a few moons later in the spring. I traveled with Inannah across Hell with a division of Hell's army. We arrived safely at the Blessed Isles, which was the home of the Seelie Fey. These were wood elves, nymphs, dryads, and other magical creatures who had left earth in antiquity to take up residence in the emotional planes of being.

As Inannah had promised, the defenses of the Seelie had been broken by treachery. The counterpart of the Seelie Court, the Unseelie, had accepted arrangements with Lord Hades to betray their fair cousins, putting the Seelie in great difficulty.

Inannah had delivered a formal ultimatum to Oberon, the king of the Seelie Court. The Seelie Fey hadn't paid their tithe in some years, so a penalty would be levied. Fifteen royal Seelie Fey were to be surrendered into slavery as compensation, or else the Blessed Isles would be occupied by Archduke Belial, and the royals would be taken by force as necessary.

Lord Oberon declared outrage and requested a delay in the negotiations, allowing time for the royals of the Seelie Court to flee the Blessed Isles under the cover of night. Hell's army and Inannah were not fooled. The soldiers sank the elf boats with cannons, leaving the Fey with no choice but to swim for the wild Elysian shores.

Mistress Inannah and I joined the hunt that night for the escaping Fey. Our goal was to capture those royals and take them back to the war camp to face their fate—an eternity in chains as collared slaves. If I could capture a Fey princess, she might become mine.

I careened on my horse through the dark forest. The moon shone brightly through the silvery leaves, illuminating a horned stag that bounded away through the trees. Fireflies swirled, agitated by the mighty stag's wake. The Elysian forests along the Seelie straits were Fey territory, and we succubi were unwanted invaders.

Four of us rode through the Elysian night. Inannah's long white hair blew ghostlike ahead of me. Inannah was an expert equestrian. She steered her steed under the low boughs effortlessly. Mistress Nimreh, my blades tutor, rode right behind me, while Mistress Snow-Under-Moon rode ahead to set the pace.

Snow was a military succubus who Inannah had commissioned from the Serpent Sisterhood. She was a tracker. Snow could see the weave of Hell and the threads of souls in her psychic mind. Snow reined in and swiveled in her saddle to look back at us.

"We're close to the two Fey. They're just ahead, trapped by the cliffs. I can see the green threads in the weave." Snow spurred her horse and darted away through the trees like a demon. Inannah followed. I tried to keep up, but I wasn't as experienced on a horse as the other three women. Mistress Nimreh surged past me as if sensing the proximity of our prey.

I tried to calm my nerves. I was worried about falling behind the others. The other succubi wouldn't leave me, and even if I got lost, Snow would still find me. According to Inannah, however, many of the royal Fey were magicians and wouldn't hesitate to slash my throat after tricking me with a magical glamour.

I ducked another tree branch and grunted with discomfort. My stomach muscles were sore. I tried to relax and breathe deeply. The smells were sweeter and richer away from the salty sea coast. The hooves of the horses churned the loam, which gave rise to earthy, ferny odors.

I followed the mistresses up the side of a steep valley among tumbled rocks. Softly glowing asphodel flowers grew on the swards. Their pale petals were open wide to catch the moonlight. The rocks slowed the chase. We came upon a yawning dark cleft in the cliffside. It wasn't a cave—just a hollow. Our trail had apparently reached a dead end. Snow reined in again. I stretched with relief. I needed the rest.

"I've lost the track." Snow's frown was just visible in the glow of the moonlight and fireflies. "The Fey should be right here at the base of these cliffs, but they aren't. I think they've cast a severing spell to end their thread in the tapestry. Either that or they're ascending the cliffs above us."

"No," Inannah said. "They're using a spell."

My elder mentor dismounted and indicated that I do the same. We'd packed special gear for capturing the Fey. Inannah handed me a gaff and took one for herself. The gaffs were sturdy poles some six feet in length with their shafts wrapped with leather to allow a good grip. The poles wore metal sleeves at their blunt end to deliver a blow, and their other ends sported shepherds' crooks with metal spring mechanisms designed to snap shut and imprison a leg or neck.

Inannah crept forward into the gloom under the cliff. I flanked her. Snow dismounted and followed alongside blade mistress Nimreh. Inannah stooped and picked up a handful of dirt and sand. She muttered a sorcerous incantation. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I could feel Inannah's magical power. She hurled her fistful of sand in a wide arc. It scattered through the night like a fountain of glowing dust.

I glimpsed the two women when the sand drifted down over them. They were slender ethereal beings wearing shimmering white dresses. Their blue-green eyes were wide, birdlike, and wild. One jumped up and darted left, while the other went right, angling past me. A short blade gleamed in her hand. I readied my gaff to swing, but the Fey opened her mouth and wailed at me.

My chest went heavy like a stone. My throat turned cold. My limbs froze. I summoned my succubus energy from my belly like a reflex—my sudden hot desire to collar that beautiful girl. She slashed at me. Her blade cut across my arm and deflected off the chest of my leather armor. The Fey flitted past me and Snow like a translucent moth.

The spell had rendered me slow. I couldn't swing the gaff. I raised my hand and sent a hateful kinehex after the Fey instead. The force of the spell struck the Fey full on her back, and she tumbled forward to crash headfirst into a rock. I shrugged off the paralysis, surged forward, and swung my gaff. It snagged the Fey's ankle as she tried to rise.

The Fey jerked her leg and twisted her foot to free herself, but I reeled her in and leapt on top of her. I grabbed her sword wrist and pinned her. The Fey struggled, but I was stronger. I held her down with my chest against hers. She was a little taller than me, but appeared no older. Her frantic breaths smelled like flowers and peppermint.

Her translucency had been an illusion, and she resolved into solidity as we wrestled. Her limbs were thin. Her skin was soft, cool, and moon-pale. Her struggles aroused me, but the stark terror in her eerie green eyes made me feel guilty and queer.

"Let me help." Snow was at my side. She wrenched the Fey's blade away, and together Snow and I wrestled her onto her stomach. We cuffed her wrists. I removed the gaff from her ankle, and Snow replaced it with a leather binding.

Inannah emerged from the forest with the other Fey girl. The other Fey's neck was locked in the metal hoop of Inannah's gaff. Both Fey girls were sobbing uncontrollably. Their cheeks were wet with their tears. I felt a pang of sadness in my own stomach in sympathy, but Inannah gave me a hard look, and I understood. I could feel no sorrow for those Fey. Their king had broken the ancient, sacred contract with our great Lord Hades, and compensation had to be paid.

"Well done, fledgling," Inannah said. "Mistress Snow, see about rounding up the startled horses. The Fey shriek startled them."

"I'll get on it, Ambassador."

Inannah handed control of her gaff to Mistress Nimreh. She examined the two Fey. "What are your names?"

"Nissia," my Fey said, almost too faintly to hear.

"Luma," said the other Fey, who seemed more defiant. She sniffed away her tears and glared at us with furious eyes as if she were a serpent about to strike. I was glad Luma wasn't mine. Inannah's lips curled into a cold smile.

"You two are Oberon's nieces—royalty both. We'll be caging you ladies this evening, and in the coming days you'll be going to Tartarus, there to stand trial in Hell's Court. Do you like yours, my lovely fledgling?"

I realized that Inannah's question was directed at me. I glanced at Nissia hesitantly. "Yes, Mistress. She's very pretty."

"Observe closely and learn rope skills." Inannah secured the two Fey girls further with thick ropes around their wrists while Mistress Nimreh and I held them still. Inannah passed ropes under their breasts and around their waists. She tied the waist knots with loops that allowed further loops of rope to cinch tightly between the legs of the Fey. Inannah's fingers flew, wrapping both Fey girls in inescapable bondage. She took extra time with the crotch-bindings, which lifted the diaphanous dresses of the Fey in a humiliating way to expose the lengths of their moon-pale legs.

Meanwhile, Snow rounded up the horses, and Inannah helped me lift Nissia into a saddle. The Fey whimpered, and I felt a quick warmth course through my succubus belly. I could only imagine how the crotch rope felt under Nissia's sex and rear end against the hard leather of the saddle. Inannah tied Nissia's ankles into the stirrups. Snow and Nimreh handled Luma, and away we went.

The forest was dead silent in the middle of the night, and the moon had passed behind clouds. Snow and Inannah each summoned a _tenebris lux_. I felt a chill on my neck as we led the prisoners along the black ferny paths back towards Archduke Belial's war camp. I felt a feeling of dread and transgression that I'd never felt before, nor ever since. When a tree branch brushed against my head, for a second I imagined that the tree itself had reached out to pummel me, and only just missed.

We rode through the night without further occurrence, and we reached the outskirts of the war camp by early morning. Inannah checked in with an incubus commander who was in charge of registering the Fey prisoners. He said several other Fey royals had also been captured. Luma and Nissia would give us the fifteen we needed.

I stood by the steel cage-sleds and surveyed the captured Fey—about a dozen beautiful beings wearing exquisite elfin raiments. The women were all huddling and weeping, and the men were trying to comfort them with little effect.

I looked into Nissia's wet green eyes, and I could see her hurt. I could _feel_ her emotional pain with my succubus senses. My heart thumped in my chest. I realized that I was aroused by her fate. The chase had worn me down, and I was feeling the urges of my succubus Hunger. I wanted to pounce on Nissia again. I wanted to hold her and fuck her until she surrendered not just her body, but her orgasm to feed me.

In the moons to come, if Nissia became my slave, I would be training her to serve my wicked succubus needs completely. The reality of her situation touched a deep chord of angelic sympathy in me. In truth, if I could have opened the cage doors and let all those royal Fey free in that moment, I might have done so.

I convinced myself that I held no responsibility—everything was politics. The Fey had broken the ancient pact that allowed them to govern their own territories in the lands of our Lord. Nissia was destined for slave papers. She would serve someone else if she didn't serve me, and another owner would surely be worse.

I lurked near the cages until Inannah came and collected me. We crossed the encampment to our little tents, where Mistress Snow and Mistress Nimreh were making a small fire with wood gleaned from the forest. They planned to heat water for tea.

Inannah misunderstood my gloomy mood. She told me to be patient. I'd get my slave. All of the captured Fey would be held until their names and identities could be confirmed, and then they would all be taken to Hell's Court in Tartarus, there to answer for the failure of their people to pay the tithe.

Inannah said that her task as Hell's ambassador was done, and the soldiers were taking over. We were going home. First we'd ride along the Phlegethon river to the war-ravaged fortress of the Trivium at the foot of Mount Purgatory. There we'd acquire a soldier escort to take us to the safety of Caina, a city ruled by the fury Tisiphone. From Caina the caravan routes would take us through the poppy fields and the madding Erebus plains back to Dis. Nissia and the rest of the Fey would be taken to Tartarus on military wyrms.

I asked why we weren't flying ourselves, and Inannah answered that travel was good for me. She wanted to show me the vast lands of our Lord. She also said that she was proud of her fledgling. She said it was time to celebrate. I wasn't sure how I felt. My sympathy for the Fey girl mingled in my belly with fear. Nissia's fate would soon be in my hands. I would own her very life and soul. I didn't feel worthy—not even close.

I didn't dare confide my weakness to Mistress Inannah. She'd gone to great efforts to help me acquire my first beautiful slave, and her approval meant a great deal to me. I really wanted to fit in and become a respectable succubus. I hated feeling like an outsider in Hell's society. Inannah said she had high hopes for my future. I wanted to prove myself worthy of her tutelage.

I told Inannah that I was too tired to celebrate with the rest of them. Inannah allowed me to take Anin to my tent. I fucked him to feed my Hunger, then I kicked him out as Inannah required. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I was lonely. The slave boy had filled my Hunger, but I missed Cole, my boyfriend. I was looking forward to going home. I'd have a hot bath and my big, soft bed again, where I could fuck to my heart's content.

## Chapter 22. The Heart Of The Garden

I made many diary entries on the trip home to Dis, but I will not bore you, dear reader, with a lengthy and pontificating travelogue like some other writers in history. A journey across the vast regions of Hell sounds more interesting than it really is.

Snow was required to remain in Elysium to do her military duties, so Inannah, Nimreh, and I charted our own path using maps. We traveled north up the sweaty, foggy Phlegethon and picked up our soldier escort in the Trivium as planned. We traipsed across Erebus in the company of those hard armored men.

I kept thinking of how I could explain to Mistress Inannah that I might not want to own Nissia. Inannah was an ambassador for Hell—a professional negotiator. I'd never won an argument against her that she didn't want me to win. I finally confronted her, nonetheless, while we sat at the evening campfire in northern Erebus, a short distance up from Tartarus and our home—the capital city of Dis.

"Mistress, what if I didn't want Nissia?" I said. "What if I just wanted her to go home to the Blessed Isles and be with her people?"

Inannah pursed her black-painted lips. She turned her head slightly to look at Nimreh, and a lock of her white-blonde hair fell across her cheek. When she looked back at me, her grey-silver eyes glittered from the shadow that had fallen across her face.

"I took you all the way to Elysium so you could claim a slave, my fledgling, and not just any slave but a Fey. You don't know how lucky you are to have a chance to own a Fey from the Seelie Court."

"I know, but I feel bad for her." My stomach twisted predictably into a knot. I was sure that Inannah was going to berate me and make me feel miserable about my pathetic attitude. Inannah was an important person in Hell's politics. My success or failure as her fledgling reflected on her. "If she's my slave, I should be able to release her."

"She isn't yours yet," Inannah said. "To make Nissia yours, my husband will need to pull strings at Hell's Court. He'll need to manipulate things and make sure your name is next to Nissia's on the list of recipients. We're going to ask him to do this favor for you, and you're going to accept Nissia when the devils announce you as her owner. If anyone asks, we'll explain that you captured her. She's technically yours by tradition, if it were legal to go capturing Seelie royals."

My throat tightened. A favor from Archduke Asmodai wasn't something that I'd ever wanted. Inannah's husband was a cruel, evil devil-creature. I hated him. "What if I don't, and what if he doesn't?"

Inannah glared at me. "Nissia will be a slave. If you don't take her, then someone else will, and I'll ask instead to get a male Fey for myself. I'll focus full time on training him, and leave you on your own. Is that what you'd prefer?"

"No, Mistress."

"You should appreciate what I'm doing for you. Everyone who matters in Dis will see this list and see your name on it, and they will say—who is this lucky fledgling named Shar-si? Why is this mere fledgling getting one of the Fey royals? Oh—she's the fledgling of Ambassador Inannah."

"I'll take Nissia," I said. "Thank you, Mistress. I don't mean to be ungrateful for everything."

Inannah cleared her throat. "It will take some days for Hell's army to transport Nissia to Dis, and even longer for the Court to process her paperwork. After that, if Asmodai comes through, you will have her."

"You'll be fine, fledgling," Nimreh offered. "A new slave is like a new blade. She'll feel clumsy in your hand at first, but if you're patient and take the time to master her—"

"Nissia is not like a new blade," Inannah interrupted. "A fine blade can be requisitioned from any good blacksmith in Dis. Not a single member of the Seelie Court has been collared in Hell for several centuries, much less a niece of King Oberon."

I nodded. I appreciated that Inannah was an old and wise succubus, and I was grateful for her love and guidance. Among the succubi, enslavement was an art form, and Mistress Inannah was a master. She'd even written reference books on the subject. Still, the pain and heartbreak on Nissia's face haunted me.

Did I really want to be responsible for the eternal suffering of such a beautiful, magical creature? Surely Nissia had friends, family, and boyfriends in the Blessed Isles. I was taking all of her joys in life away from her and making her serve me instead. It was pure selfishness. Of course, among the succubi, selfishness was highly desirable.

As I lay awake that night, listening to the howling, sulfur-tainted winds of Erebus outside the tent, I decided that I couldn't do it. I aimed to let Nissia go free. I aimed to let her escape. I just needed to come up with a brilliant plan that would absolve me of all responsibility.

I felt wretched betraying Inannah's faith in me as her fledgling. I was worried that I was defective. I'd once been an angel, and evidently I still held a few shreds of compassion left. I used Inannah's slave boys every day to feed my Hunger, but I'd avoided ever thinking about how they'd been enslaved.

And so Inannah and I arrived back in Tartarus and rolled into our lavish mansion on the south side of the capital city of Dis. I climbed the stairs into the east wing. I unpacked my things while a slave boy drew a hot bath for me. I scrubbed my skin and washed the grit from my long blonde hair. Later, I met Inannah in the east parlour for our evening feeding. We burned incense together. We and the slave boys prayed to Lord Hades and thanked Lady Lilith for a successful trip.

Fubuki-si wasn't there to welcome us home, but Inannah's husband came home from Hell's Court while we lounged half-nude with the boys in the parlour. Asmodai swept in wearing a long red robe. He held a gnarled cane in his blotchy, yellow-grey hand. My skin crawled as it always did when Asmodai's cold eyes flicked over me. The power of that archdevil immediately tainted the room.

"My sweet love," Inannah said. "My darling Archduke." Inannah got up eagerly to embrace her husband. His ugly hand entwined in her long white-blonde hair when he received her against him.

"Come to the bedroom," Asmodai said. "You can deliver a firsthand report from the war front."

"I can report right here. Shar-si and I captured two Fey princesses. I was so proud of my fledgling. Shar-si wrestled one of the Fey down to the ground. The Fey's name is Nissia. Shar-si should have her."

Asmodai's baleful yellow eyes looked at me over his wife's shoulder. He always looked at me with contempt. "You want me to arrange things for your fledgling at the Court? It will be difficult. The Fey will be coveted by many. Every wealthy collector of rare slaves in Hell will want to put a collar on them."

"Shar-si would be very, very appreciative," Inannah purred. "Wouldn't you, my darling fledgling?"

"Yes, Mistress. I want Nissia very much." My voice emerged from my lips like a croak. I was tortured. At least I wasn't lying—my darkest succubus self wanted Nissia. I wanted her in my bed. I wanted to fuck that exotic creature like she'd never been fucked before. I wanted to drink Nissia's sweet sexual cream into me and make it mine. My stomach quivered under Asmodai's devil eyes. I felt a little ill.

"I'll see what I can do." Asmodai kissed his wife and ran his nails across her lower back, leaving trails of red marks under her corset. He flicked his gaze away from me, wrapped his hand over the curve of over Inannah's ass, and escorted her out through the parlour archway.

The click of Inannah's hooves mingled with the thud of the Master's boots as they ascended the marble foyer stairs. I felt good in that moment because the Mistress had said she was proud of me, but a flood of envy washed over my pride.

I loved my Mistress. I loved Inannah more than my life itself, and I knew she loved me almost as much. I envied her attention to Archduke Asmodai. Inannah's love meant less when she slept with her husband. Devils felt pleasure through the suffering of others, and Asmodai hurt his wife in every way that she could survive. Inannah said she loved the suffering and scars her husband gave her, but I hated Archduke Asmodai.

Asmodai's noncommittal promise gave me a modicum of hope. Maybe I wouldn't get Nissia. Nissia would serve someone else, and I'd be absolved of responsibility. Nissia's eyes still haunted me. I went to bed early. I considered sending a messenger bird to Cole, but I decided that I'd see him when I was settled into my routine again. He had other girlfriends. He was always seeing someone other than me—usually a young fledgling. I wanted his cock, but I didn't want to seem desperate.

I lay awake and alone with my bedchamber window cracked open, allowing the polluted, stinking air of Dis to wash over my succubus skin. I needed so much the love of another woman, but Inannah couldn't fuck me in the capital city without rousing her husband's ire, and to force Nissia to love me seemed unthinkable.

If I received Nissia from Hell's Court, I still intended to defy her fate. I intended to help Nissia escape Dis regardless of anyone else's opinion. Meanwhile, I would just have to find another woman to love—someone to heal my loneliness. As long as Inannah had her husband, my relationship with her couldn't satisfy me. I could never have Inannah while Asmodai imprisoned her heart in his cruel barbs.

My plan then was two-fold. I'd help the Fey escape, and at the same time, I'd try harder than ever to find a female lover. Surely there were other succubi like me in Dis—women who loved other women illegally and in secret. I just needed to find them.

Such was my state of mind that first night back home in the capital, and such is the life of a succubus, dear reader—always empty and always yearning to have that emptiness filled by something, normally a nice cock. When we aren't taking cocks, we strive to acquire inanimate objects to fill up our lives—jewelry, clothes, shoes, sex toys, and gold and silver coins to buy what we desire.

When I finally fell asleep that night, I felt empty and depressed.

## Chapter 23. Just One Cup Of Black

The next morning, I was still in bed when Mistress Inannah's magical messenger bird rustled through the slit above the door, shot across the room, and landed on my shoulder. The bird spoke in my ear with Inannah's voice before fading.

Get dressed and come to my office.

I rose, wrapped a front-laced corset around myself, threw on a sack dress, and made my way to the north wing where Inannah's ambassadorial office overlooked the rear gardens and the reflecting pool with its circle of eroded satyr statues. Inannah closed the door behind me. She explained that she was going to begin teaching me the arts of slave training in preparation for Nissia's arrival.

Inannah handed me a leather crop and gave me instructions. She had a human slave girl there for me to use. The girl's name was Tressa. She had short dark hair and a lithe body. I wasn't familiar with her, as I rarely saw the girls around the house. The boy-slaves all belonged to Inannah, and the girl-slaves all belonged to Asmodai, and all of the slaves slept in cages in the pit.

The pit was a series of rooms under the house where we kept the slaves. We called them girls and boys, but they weren't all young. They were souls of various apparent ages. Most of Inannah's boy slaves were fallen angels, because she collected them and hunted them especially. We were very wealthy and well-to-do in Hell, dear reader, if it wasn't yet clear. I was a very lucky succubus fledgling.

Inannah instructed me in the basics. Tressa needed to keep her eyes lowered at all times. She needed to keep her hands clasped behind her back and strike certain poses at certain times. She needed to keep her mouth slightly parted and her legs at shoulder width to reveal the petals of her sex. I swung the crop. I intoned orders and gave directions. The girl obeyed, and I enjoyed it. I was aroused in a succubus way, and I could feel it in my belly and between my legs.

The slave girl had scars all over her body, and I knew that Master Asmodai had put them there, just like he put them on Mistress Inannah's flesh, but only where she could hide them with her corset. I felt dirty for becoming aroused by what Asmodai had done with his girl. Of course, I'd seen the Archduke's slave girls around the house, and I'd even desired a few of them at first sight, but for the most part I'd never touched the Master's property. As much as I hated Asmodai, I feared him even more.

"Tressa is meek and tamed," Inannah said when our training lesson was over. "Nissia will not be. We'll need much more than this to tear down her pride and make her resigned to serving obediently in our house."

I bit my lip and tried to sound nonchalant. "How will we do that?"

"We'll use black nectar," Inannah answered. "It will help her forget her old Fey life just like it helped you forget your old life in Heaven."

"Yes, Mistress. That's a good idea."

"I'd be surprised if Hell's Court doesn't prescribe specific regimens for the Fey," Inannah continued. "The royal Fey will be very dangerous slaves. They'll require special permits, I'm sure."

"Permits? What do you mean, Mistress?"

"A dangerous slave is a special classification from Hell's Court that indicates a potential public menace. An angry Fey can kill people, fledgling. A Mistress or Master must apply for a special permit and demonstrate expertise in slave-handling procedures." Inannah winked. "Don't worry. Asmodai and I are certified, of course, so we'll take care of the papers and vouch that your slave will be well-handled and trained."

"Thank you, Mistress." I swallowed. I tried to imagine Nissia trying to stab me or strangle me. Those things didn't sound pleasant. Maybe some nectar would be good for her, or so I rationalized.

"We'll want to brand Nissia as soon as we get her. You should go today and have your personal design made. Your unique design will be registered at the Court forever unless you file paperwork to have it changed."

"Yes, Mistress." I'd considered my brand, at Inannah's request, during our trip back to Dis. An oak leaf didn't mean anything to me, but if Nissia had to be branded, it would at least remind her of the forests of her homeland. My future slaves would then also have the oak leaf, and that would remind me of Nissia, my first.

"I've arranged for Fubuki to take you to the East Market district today to see a metalsmith that I know," Inannah said. "His name is Master Degas. He's a brilliant artist, and he makes the highest quality brands for wealthy succubus debutantes. I'll have only the best for you, my fledgling. When you and Fubuki are dressed and ready, I'll have the stable boys pull the carriage up to the side-drive."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Paulo should have left a full cup of tea in your bedchamber. A full cup should soothe your anxiety, fledgling." Inannah kissed my cheek and dismissed me. I drifted through the front foyer in a turmoil. I didn't want to hurt Nissia, but the idea of branding her and making her mine did intoxicate me a little bit. I had an abnormally kind heart for a succubus, but I was still a succubus. Would Nissia try to kill me? Surely not if I promised to help her escape.

I went back to my bedchamber. The aromatic black nectar tea was on my side table as Inannah promised. I frowned at the white porcelain cup. The cup was full. I was supposed to only be drinking a half cup per day, but Paulo had given me a full one.

I bent and sniffed the tea. My head instantly tingled, and my stomach warmed at the prospect of such pleasure. I picked up the cup and drank it all quickly. I trusted Inannah's instincts. She knew what was best for me. When I finished the tea, I dropped the cup and doubled over gasping. The tea hit me very hard. The pleasure filled my head and trickled down through my legs to my toes, washing away my worries over Nissia.

I trembled slightly and sat down at my vanity. I smiled as the pleasure inundated me. While I brushed my hair, I had a fantasy of drinking tea with Nissia and sharing the beautiful black pleasure with her in my bed. Inannah was right about the tea. The tea would fix Nissia just like it had fixed me.

I finished my hair, painted my lips, blushed my cheeks, and decided on a black dress with a black push-up corset and matching black gloves. I called Paulo to come dress me, and while I waited for him, I chose a necklace of obsidian beads for an accessory. The color scheme wasn't seasonal, but it was appropriate to go with my lovely tea-feeling. August brought blistering winds to the city of Dis, so I added a black hat with a chinstrap and skipped a parasol. My long blonde hair looked beautiful in the mirror—stark against all the black fabric and lace.

After I was dressed, I drifted on the wings of my tea pleasure down the rear stairs. Fubuki was waiting for me outside the east wing door.

## Chapter 24. A New Brand, An Old Flame

Fubuki was beautiful that morning. Her face was well-powdered and her lips were painted into a tight flower-petal pout. She wore a short-sleeved red dress, which matched her lip paint and her hat. Her hat was made of red felt with a gold metal ribbon around it. Ruby and gold earrings dangled from Fubuki's earlobes.

Fubuki and I hugged happily and climbed into the carriage that was waiting for us in the driveway. The driver boy pulled us out and began to negotiate the crowded, dirty-pretty streets of Dis. While we rode, I filled Fubuki in on everything that was happening. She was jealous that I was getting a slave already. Normally only fully-fledged mistresses owned slaves, while fledglings used the slaves of their mentors.

"And a Fey too," Fubuki said. "That's the rarest type of slave. I've never even seen a Fey wearing a collar. Is she beautiful, Shar-si?"

"She's different. She's more beautiful than any of Asmodai's slave girls, or at least I think so."

"You're so lucky. I can't wait to see her."

"You will," I said nonchalantly. "She should be here within the week. Hell's army will bring her and the rest of the Fey royalty to Dis. They'll be sentenced in Hell's Court to pay for the offenses of their people. Nissia will come to be with me and live in our pit."

I rode quietly and enjoyed my tea-pleasure while Fubuki did the talking. Fubuki went on and on about how jealous she was, and I felt prouder and prouder about my Fey slave, to the point of having second thoughts about letting Nissia escape.

I was resolved to let Nissia escape at my first available opportunity. It tortured me to disappoint Inannah, but it was her fault for pushing me too fast into my succubus life. I wondered if Fubuki could help me find a safer, healthier woman to love—someone to help me forget my difficult desires for Inannah and Nissia. Fubuki knew the city and its people far better than I did. I just needed to find a way to ask her.

Fubuki knew something of my secret desires, but we never spoke of them. The topic made both of us uncomfortable. I'd been attracted to Fubuki in the past. We soon arrived in the East Market district at an address on the east edge of the French Quarter. We weren't far from the city auction houses and the slave traders' row. As I climbed out of the carriage, I sniffed the smells of industry on the air.

The metalsmith's assistant us let in for our appointment. Fubuki and I browsed the racks of branding tong handles on the wall. Fubuki informed me that the Mistress was allowing her to get a brand too. She wasn't getting a slave, but in the coming years she would take her Mistress Test and graduate from Inannah's mentorship, whereupon she too would acquire and train her first slave.

Master Degas came out and greeted us. I sat with him, and he hand-drew the design for my branding iron as I'd imagined it. When I was finished, he sat with Fubuki. As I waited for my sister fledgling, I tried to formulate a conversation that would lead Fubuki to help me find a lesbian lover—a succubus who might be sexually interested in me.

I wanted a woman lover so much. Desire was everything for a succubus—desire was my life. Desire ruled me more than I could even admit to myself. I wanted what I wanted. An incubus could fill my sex and my mouth, but no man had yet truly filled my heart, and that was my biggest dissatisfaction. Finally Fubuki was done, and she paid Master Degas for both of us.

"Fubuki," I said when we'd settled back into the carriage. "How do you feel about me being with a female slave?"

Fubuki avoided my eyes. "A lot of succubi have dressing girls that do their hair and manage their clothes and things. I think it's fine for you to have a girl to serve you."

"You know that I'm planning to take Nissia to my bedchamber. I'm planning to feed my Hunger from her."

Fubuki looked at me with her eyes sultry and lidded. "I know. I know you like girls, Shar-si. It's against our Lord's laws, but I understand that you're different. The laws are a little bit silly, and I don't hold it against you. You should lust after whoever you want. Hell's Court doesn't really arrest lesbians, at least not recently. I think they have in the past."

I took a deep breath. "Thank you. You're my best friend. I'm glad I can confide in you. I want to go to more parties—less respectable ones if you know what I mean. Can you help me find them?"

"We're going to one right now. We're going to go see Cole." Fubuki's red-petal lips parted into a quick grin at her own cleverness for having changed an uncomfortable subject. Only then did I realize that the carriage wasn't heading home, but instead into the Quartier Francais.

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm not perfumed for a party."

"It's a surprise. You'll be fine."

"I guess. It was nice of you to think of me." Fubuki was right. I'd be fine. My hair was straight and undone, which was what Cole liked. I could feel the core of my body responding to the mere thought of being with my boyfriend that afternoon.

I'd fucked Cole many times, and he could pretty much have me when he wanted. If I hadn't been a mere fledgling, I would have wanted to marry him. Incubus seed was more wicked and addictive in a succubus than even black nectar. The magical essence of incubus seed persisted for seven years, or so Inannah said. If an incubus fucked you, his seed stayed in you. His seed made you think of him frequently. It made you dream of him. Cole's seed was no exception to this rule.

And so the carriage rolled fast into the Quartier Francais, and I was rolling fast back into my succubus life in Dis. I loved Hell's capital city in the heart of Tartarus. I was in awe of its decadence and size. I had no memories left of my angel life in Heaven, but I couldn't imagine a city grander than Dis.

The Quartier Francais was on the southeast side of the city, between downtown and the market districts. The Quartier was a comfortable hangout where higher-class incubi hunted succubi, and the succubi hunted them. The Quartier had a distinct scent of couture houses, milliners, linen shops, pastry shops, and all of the other delicacies for which the French Quarter was known.

Fubuki and I didn't partake of the foods in the Quartier Francais. We were forbidden by the Mistress. A succubus who imbibed the material stuff of Hell would swell her body and become a patapouf. Inannah said such interests were not acceptable for her fledglings. I didn't care. I doubted that I'd eaten anything at all in Heaven as an angel. As a succubus, I just needed to feed myself with plenty of sex.

The Quartier was a nicer part of the city, so we saw no Gypsy beggars or lower class whores on the street corners. We passed through a less savoury plaza, however, and we saw the war veterans camped there—mostly demons and French incubi who had gathered to play music for coins. The music drifted and jingled on the air. Some of the men wore bandages on their eyes or lacked limbs. The war between Heaven and Hell seemed never-ending.

Fubuki ordered the driver to turn the carriage around Boulevarde Marchamps onto Rue Chartraine, and we'd arrived. The driver directed the horses into the end of a carriage line in front of La Bougie Rouge, which was run by the dissolute French king, Louis XV. The king wasn't so popular with his own French, who chose mostly to party elsewhere, so the club was open to the general public, with younger, better-class succubi (like Fubuki and I) welcomed and allowed one free drink. Fubuki and I disembarked from the carriage and made our way to the door.

"Laquetta-si said Cole would be here today," Fubuki said. "So I thought I'd do you a favor and bring you. You've been a long time away from him."

"Does he know I'm coming?"

"I don't know. I didn't tell him. I didn't think it would make a difference. Do you want me to run interference for you?"

"No. I think I can handle it myself. I'd appreciate it if you could tell me who his girl is when we see her."

Cole had been one of the last things on my mind to do that afternoon, but as Fubuki and I entered La Bougie Rouge, my past encounters with Cole came dancing back pleasantly into my drifting, tea-floating head, warming my nethers.

## Chapter 25. Rhyming Blue Beauty

The interior of the club was crowded. Master Cole was there, sure enough, in a corner with some succubi. He didn't even notice me. He wasn't watching the door, but the gaggle of succubi were, and Fubuki and I were like Hell's Court royalty.

Two of the succubi with Cole melted away like butter when they saw me coming for him, but one remained—a brunette in a thigh-high fuck-dress who hung on Cole's arm like a skinny black leech. I diverted my course and paused at the bar. Fubuki followed me.

"Two absinthes please," I said. "So Fubuki, who is she?"

Fubuki eyed Cole and the succubus. Fubuki's painted-on eyebrows tightened with concern. "That's Mistress Jayeh. She's a lyrical poetess. She's Egyptian I think, and a little famous or so I've heard. She's very pretty. What are you going to do, Shar-si?"

"I'm going to go right up to Cole and find out how much he wants me after all these moons."

Fubuki pursed her red petal lips—the look she always gave me when she thought I was being naïve. "I don't know if that's a good idea. We should drink for a while and wait for him, don't you think?"

The bartender slid our drinks across the bar. I downed my absinthe quickly while Fubuki lingered over hers. Fubuki's brown eyes scanned the club for her own brand of huckleberry. She liked Asian incubi, and the ones that came to La Bougie Rouge especially preferred younger succubi, for which the club was well-known. Louis XV's club specialized in matchmaking the older and younger.

"Alright," I finally said. "That's it. Stay here and find yourself a handsome one."

I slipped from the bar with a warm fire in my belly. Absinthe mixed well with the black. Fubuki shrugged. She seemed morose. I hoped her jealousy wasn't going to spin out of control. Not only was I getting Nissia, but Cole was also Fubuki's ex-boyfriend. He hadn't been with her since he'd gotten with me, that I knew of. The club pianist launched into a Chopin sonata. It seemed appropriate. I launched myself towards Cole.

Cole was alone with Jayeh, who was stroking his arm and whispering in his ear. Cole looked good with his shoulder-length dark hair pulled into a pony tail. He was a big strong man with a thick neck. He stood at least a head taller than me. His masculine diameter was in full evidence in his biceps. Cole finally saw me, despite being absorbed in his conversation. A grin spread across his devilishly handsome face.

"Well hello, Shar-si. It's wonderful to see you back in the city. Did you have a good trip?"

"I did. How are you?"

"I'm fantastic. You look different. You have a bit of a tan from your travels. You look a bit more muscled too. Rough outdoor living is a change for you."

"Mistress Inannah has me practicing with blades." I smiled. I was pleased whenever Cole's eyes roamed my figure, but I wasn't so thrilled with the compliment he'd come up with. Was I that much more muscled from my sweaty efforts to strengthen myself as Inannah wished? "It's nice to see you again."

I bent and kissed Cole full on the lips. I pressed against him and lingered to let him smell my scent. I let my perfumed hair brush his face ever so gently when I turned to face Jayeh. Jayeh smiled halfheartedly. Her lips curled to speak.

"Is this the fledgling I've been hearing about, Cole?"

"Yes. Mistress Jayeh, meet fledgling Shar-si. Shar-si studies with Ambassador Inannah, who of course is married to Archduke Asmodai."

"So I've heard," Jayeh said. "Fascinating."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Cole, may I please speak with you in private?" I smiled politely to Jayeh and grabbed Cole's right hand to pull him away. Jayeh, however, retained firm possession of Cole's left arm. I couldn't hide my frown. Normally the mere mention of my very high-powered connections was enough to get what I wanted.

"Why don't we dance?" Cole said. "It can be like a contest."

Jayeh smirked, but I felt annoyed. Cole was as arrogant as he was handsome, and he knew full well how horribly I danced. On the other hand, I'd been practicing. I wouldn't win, but I'd at least surprise him and get a chance to show what I'd learned from Inannah.

"Fine," I said.

I pulled Cole towards the dance floor, but he grasped the neckline of my dress and pulled me instead towards the end of the bar and the hallway towards the back of the club. Jayeh turned on his other arm, and the three of us walked quickly. Soon we were in one of the private Bougie rooms. The walls of the room were painted flat black. Flickering white candles in elaborate crystal sconces illuminated adequate expanses of black leather divans. Everything smelled like sex.

Cole closed the door to the private salon. He pulled Jayeh close and insinuated his tongue into her mouth before tugging at her dress. "Strip," he told her. "You too, Shar-si. Take each other's corsets off. I want to watch you."

I wasn't sure what to think of Cole's request. I met Jayeh's dark brown eyes. She wasn't sure either. She had a beautiful face with black lip paint to match her hair.

"You're pretty," Jayeh murmured, as if begrudging me that much. Mistress Jayeh wasn't so young, but she was painfully thin. I wondered if Jayeh was a nectar addict like me, or if she fashionably starved herself—not in the way of earthly women, but in a succubus way with sex.

Just as succubi could turn patapouf by eating pastries and sweetmeats, Inannah had told me that succubi could turn thin and waifish if they tortured themselves by declining to feed from slaves or incubi. Jayeh was thin. It was written all over her frame, from her birdlike neck to her girlish calves.

I stripped my dress, then worked the lacings of Jayeh's corset. Jayeh smelled of a perfume with an expensive red nectar, similar to what I might have worn if Fubuki had bothered to tell me that we were going out. Cole opened the fly of his pants to reveal his thick cock. He settled himself on a divan and pulled out a small nectar pouch.

My eyes were drawn to the nectar, even as my Hunger stirred in my belly. I wanted Cole's cock in me even more than nectar. I removed the shell of Jayeh's corset to reveal the rest of her slim, light brown body and unnaturally narrow, corset-trained waist that barely exaggerated her petite ass. I turned to allow Jayeh access to my own corset back-lacings, but Jayeh ignored me. She knelt instead in front of Cole, where she laid her small breasts over his knee to lick at the lines of blue nectar that he'd formed on the black seat.

I felt myself heating again with annoyance.

"Leave a line for Shar-si," Cole murmured. He stroked the black hair of the poetess. Jayeh warbled a response, unintelligible from the effect of the nectar in her throat. Cole looked at me, smiled, and pointed at the nectar.

I hesitated. It had been moons since I'd done nectar at a party, but I figured I might as well jump right in and bump my black. It was only a little blue. I knelt on my knees alongside Jayeh at Cole's feet, nudged her hip away with mine, and licked up the long line of nectar that they'd left for me.

The Blue Beauty raced through my tongue and brain long before it even touched my throat. It was very high quality. My heart was pounding, and my stomach was warming, and Cole was moaning while Jayeh pulled hard on his cock.

I swayed on my knees. I didn't care in that second to compete with Jayeh while the nectar ran its race. I just wanted to feel it. The blue spiked up on the black tea that I'd drunk and jagged even harder on the glass of absinthe. I felt Cole's thick fingers in my hair, tugging me gently. I gathered myself and slid up to give him a kiss, but he didn't want my mouth. He only wanted to control me. He kept me down with his fingers locked in my hair.

"What do you want," I warbled.

"I want you to fuck her for me," Cole answered. "Fuck Jay-jay with your fingers while she sucks me." A flush of more anger spiked through my rush of blue, black, and absinthe. So it was Jay-Jay, I managed to think. Cole's girl even had a pet name.

Jayeh smiled at me with her eyes half-lidded. "It's fine, if it's fine with you."

"I'm fine." So there I was on my knees, moving over the poetess and running my fingers along her back. Cole was moaning from Jayeh's attention to him. Both of them were absorbed. I reached low under Jayeh and explored her small hard nipple. Her breast jiggled beneath my fingers—such was the intensity of her efforts to suck Cole off. I massaged Jayeh's buttocks and moved my fingers into her warm crack. I looked up. Cole was watching me.

I slid my fingers lower and slipped them into Jayeh's heated wet furrow. I adventured on into her surprising and lowbrow shock of pubic hair, and then went back and deeper into the real business. The sensation of fucking another woman was new and curious for me. I was always submissive with Inannah.

Still, Cole would come soon, I knew, and Jayeh was in control of him. What could I do? I considered my options as I scissored the little lump of Jayeh's clitoris. She moaned and worked her hips in response, and my desire stirred further. I felt hot.

A cruel idea came to me—a solution for getting Jayeh off of Cole. I slipped my wet fingers up and found the tight aperture of Jayeh's anus. I wobbled back for leverage. I stabbed a finger in. Jayeh jumped off of Cole like a rabbit.

"By the Lord's cock!" Jayeh exclaimed. "What are you doing to my ass?"

I bit my lips and stifled a giggle. My smile was smashed, however, when Jayeh slapped me. My cheek stung. I couldn't believe what she'd just done.

"Maybe you should just put Cole's cock back in your mouth," I said clumsily. "Or better yet, just leave. You're rude."

Jayeh sighed, but when she spoke, her voice hinted at sympathy. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. You're a beautiful girl, and you have a famous mistress, but you're acting like a fool. Evidently you can't hold your nectar either, not even Rhyming Blue Beauty."

"I can hold my nectar back. I've done a lot of the black."

"She has," Cole interjected.

"Well, that's a shock," Jayeh said. "Still, I was the clever one to have Cole's cock. If anyone is being rude, it's you. I was with him first. First to come, first to be served."

"I've been with him for two years. Let him decide. I'm all ears."

I picked up my dress, folded it in my arms, and glowered at Cole. Meanwhile, Jayeh had a hand on her face and a smile on Cole's cock. Or rather, the other way around. I blinked and shook my head. I realized that I was a little delirious. I'd done way too much blue nectar too quickly on top of the tea and everything.

"Wait, Shar-si," Cole said. "Come back to the party."

"If you want me, you know where to find me."

Jayeh's head bobbed. Cole's thighs fell wide. My formidable rival resumed her efforts to suck my boyfriend dry, and he was totally enjoying it. I didn't bother to dress. I left the room in the nude. I ignored the raised eyebrow of the bouncer at the end of the hall and floated out the back door into the cobblestoned alley. I tottered on my heels and almost fell down the steps. I almost tipped over as I got back into my dress.

I stalked up the alley towards the street in front of the club. Fubuki-si was also in the alley. She was standing on one leg with her other leg folded up like a heron. An Asian incubus had her pinned to the wall. I watched for a moment, then sighed. I was floating out of my mind from that fat blue line. I made my way back to the street and crawled into my carriage. I slumped and watched the hazy ochre clouds in the dirty Tartarus sky. I ignored the people who walked by.

I happened to raise my head to see Cole and Jayeh leaving from the front. I wondered if I was psychic like the succubus tracker, Snow-Under-Moon. I wondered if I'd detected Cole's thread in the weave with my cunt. They were a perfect couple walking double. Jayeh was a fully-fledged mistress and eligible for marriage. She held her corset in her hand, folded up like a purse. I was just a second-year fledgling who was thinking in verse.

_Rhyming Blue Beauty_. The name of the nectar came back to my head. It must have been a special blend. That's what had given me such a lift. Jayeh had given it to Cole as a gift. I reviewed my heated exchange with the poetess. I visualized Jayeh removing her dress. I wished my willpower had been a lot stronger. I wished I'd been able to touch her much longer.

Fubuki came back to the carriage an hour later with a look of surprise on her face. I was still just lying there, watching the afternoon sky and the French Quarter spin by. I asked Fubuki if she knew if Jayeh came often to La Bougie Rouge. Fubuki grinned at me. Her painted eyebrows arched mischievously.

"What do you want with her?"

"I don't know yet," I said. "We've only just met."

"Jayeh is a lyrical poet," Fubuki said sagely. "She performs at some clubs. You should leave her and Cole alone and pick up some other boyfriends. Don't heckle her. You'd only embarrass yourself."

"I know. I know."

"You don't own Cole. He's always been a single incubus. He's always been like this. He has lots of women."

"Let's go." I made room in the seat for Fubuki. She didn't understand me. When Fubuki and I got home, I went to my bedchamber and slept off the nectar. I awoke in time for the evening slave-taking. After I'd sated my Hunger with a handsome angel slave boy, I drifted half-naked and alone into the Asmodai's library. I was searching for poetry books.

I made up my mind to go see Jayeh perform. I decided to learn poetry. I stayed up studying poetry all that night, with a queer intense fervor. I imagined myself much more literate and sophisticated.

## Chapter 26. King Cole And The Queening Seat

The next morning, Inannah called me into her office again for another slave-training lesson. She informed me that Nissia had arrived in Dis. It would only be a few days before I received my slave. I needed to be ready to train her. I tried not to betray my lack of excitement, even as I noticed a gleam in Inannah's eyes.

We ran through the same paces that we'd done the previous day. Tressa was in a better mood. She looked freshly bathed and beautiful. The final practice exercise of that session was the most memorable— _vénération_. I'd heard the term bantered before, but I'd never fully understood it.

Inannah explained that succubus fluids had an intoxicating effect just like incubus seed but to a lesser extent. Nissia would perform cunnilingus on me twice-daily to get my succubus essence to stick in her head. Inannah said that vénération, along with black nectar, were the two quickest tools to tuning a slave to serve her mistress or master faithfully. Since Nissia would be dangerous and rebellious, we'd need to intoxicate her with lust, pleasure, and addiction quickly.

And so Inannah introduced me to facesitting, as it was more commonly called, right there in her office. Tressa lay on the floor, and Inannah dragged a low wooden box over the slave girl's head. Inannah called the box a queening stool. The wooden stool had an oval hole in the seat-top and a curved archway cut from one side that fit over Tressa's neck. The slave girl's face was centered in the box where I was to sit.

I had to admit that the polished aperture of the stool seat worked well for me. I planted my vulva on the middle of Tressa's face, and at the same time the sculpted inner edges of the seat caught my buttocks and thighs and opened my sex to better cover the slave girl's nose and mouth. I felt pleasure as the slave dutifully licked, but in truth I found it an impersonal and unsatisfying experience. I told Inannah so.

Inannah accepted my criticism of the technique while warning me that other methods would be more strenuous. She took the stool away and helped me undress. She showed me different positions of sitting more naturally on Tressa without any assistance. I liked straddling her without the stool. I could see her eyes then and caress her head. The position quickly made my legs ache, however, and I knew it would become painful and tiresome when employed for hours.

Lastly Inannah showed me the _soixante-neuf_ , or sixty-nine, where I lay on Tressa bodily with a pillow under her head and my mons against her chin. I liked that as well, although then Tressa complained meekly of neck pain after a few minutes of effort. Inannah laughed at the slave girl, but didn't scold her. My Mistress could be wicked cruel, but she could also be nice. That was one of the things that I loved about her.

Inannah called it a day. She criticized some flaws in my appearance as I got dressed again, and I agreed with her that I needed to fix them. As I left Inannah's office, I tried to imagine all of that facesitting with the beautiful Fey girl. I'd need to do whatever Inannah demanded until I could figure out a way for the girl to escape. I'd do well to follow every imperative.

I was concerned about my willpower to set Nissia free. I was torn in half over it. I kept thinking of rationalizations to keep her. I couldn't help myself. After all, the black nectar tea would make Nissia's pain go away, just like it had done for me. She would forget her home and her friends after a while.

I hated myself for thinking that way. I knew that my deep need for a real lover was my main reason for wanting to keep Nissia as a slave. I knew that I needed to find a girlfriend before I got Nissia, or else I might struggle to let the Fey go. I knew the taste of Nissia would be exquisite. I also knew how easily my succubus desires could take over my rational mind.

After writing, I dressed nicely, perfumed myself, and had the dressing boy Paulo work on me for an hour with scissors and wax. My hair had gotten out of hand during the long trip, as Inannah had observed, especially my eyebrows and armpits, which needed waxing. I'd done a fair amount of waxing and shaving already, but as Ambassador Inannah's fledgling, I needed every inch of my girlish figure to be perfect. Luckily I had the slaves to attend to me from head to toe.

After a lot of efforts in the bath at my vanity, I ordered up a carriage, and I was off to see Cole at his home. My excuse for going was to express my jealousy and try to seduce him again, but my secret plan was to acquire more information about Mistress Jayeh.

Master Cole was a wealthy incubus. He was a playboy, as Inannah once referred to him. He lived in a manor on MacNutt Hill, which rose as a fixture on the Disian south side. Like Beaujardin, MacNutt offered some of the few elevated views of Dis from within the city.

The carriage driver pulled into Master Cole's drive within the half-hour. I disembarked, hoping Cole wouldn't be put out that I'd arrived unannounced. His topless housegirl led me through the manor to the back patio, where Cole was lying out by his pool wearing only a bowler hat and a pair of linen drawstring pants. He lowered his book and grinned at me.

"I thought I might see my Shar-si today."

I bit my lip wryly and smiled. Of all the incubi I'd fucked, Cole knew me the best. That was just one thing I loved about him. "What are you reading, sir?"

"Plutarch's biographies. _Parallel Lives_. It's an interesting but somewhat boring study of morality and whatnot. It's mostly interesting to me from the standpoint of fate."

"Fate? How do you mean?"

"Well, do you think we shape our destinies ourselves, Shar-si, or do you think the gods or some old women do it for us?"

I hesitated. I wasn't in the right frame of mind for a philosophical conversation. "I think it's a combination. There are powerful forces in this world, like Mistress Inannah. She can shape other things, like me. I don't shape much of anything because I'm not very powerful."

"You can make your own choices," Cole persisted. "You can act. Ambassador Inannah is many things, but she isn't your puppet master."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure." I cleared my throat. So far I'd avoiding considering how much Nissia's escape might anger Inannah, especially if she divined that I might be culpable. She could see through me like a glass window. That was why I needed a perfect plan. I sat down on the patio next to Cole's chair.

"We should make our own choices," Cole continued. "Including you, Shar-si."

"I know. If I don't step up and take the reins of my life, someone else will take them for me. I'm sorry I was gone from Dis for so long with my Mistress. I really did miss you."

Cole stretched his hand out and caressed my cheek. "I missed you too. So did you and Inannah capture a Fey?"

"Yes. We caught two of them. Nissia and Luma. Nissia is to be mine. I don't know who the other will belong to. The Fey are all in Dis now. They are being processed by Hell's Court. Pretty soon I'll have my very own slave girl sitting in a cage waiting for me to train her."

Cole cocked his head. "You don't seem too eager."

"I think I'm just tired."

"Did you feed well enough on your trip?"

"We had a few slaves with us. Inannah also introduced me to a young Hell's army lieutenant. She thought it would be good for me to make military connections. The guy is supposedly an up-and-comer and maybe husband material for me some day. He fucked me a few times. I liked it, but he was kind of stinky and hairy. He wasn't nearly as sweet and handsome as you."

Cole smiled. "Flattery sounds beautiful coming from you."

I felt heat stealing over my cheeks. "Does it sound good coming from Mistress Jayeh? Or is it just her poetry that moves you?"

"She has a beautiful mouth, but so do you."

"Does she give performances like Fubuki said? Poetry recitals or something like that? Where do people do things like that?"

"Jayeh recites poetry most dies Venĕris nights at the Gold Heron Tavern on Heron Lake Square," Cole answered. "Do you know the place? The Square is southeast of downtown, wedged between the outer city wall and the French Quarter. Jayeh lives alone in a loft down there. She passed her Mistress Test four or five years ago, and she still hasn't married yet."

"Oh." So I knew where I could find Jayeh. I had the information I wanted, but as I flicked my eyes over Cole's muscled body, I felt all too acutely how much I wanted something else. Cole gave me a tight smile. I felt sure he mistook my silence for lust and jealousy. He didn't divine my real desires for Jayeh. I recognized that my feelings were hard to understand for anyone but me. Cole shrugged.

"Actually Jayeh is a loudmouth. She speaks her mind, and sometimes her tongue bites a little too sharply. She doesn't know when to stop criticizing things."

"You like her. Why?"

Cole grinned. "For one thing, I know a simple way to make her quiet. I just need to put something in her mouth. I'll wager you and I could have had a conversation while she worked if you hadn't been so jealous and stuck your finger up her ass. That was funny, Shar-si."

My cheeks heated again. "So it was my fault? I didn't want to do a threesome with you and your new girlfriend."

"I was rude, and I apologize. You'd just come back from your trip. I know you wanted to see me. On the other hand, Jayeh and I were together, and you came right over and tried to stake a claim on your territory. You kind of interrupted us, didn't you?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about that too."

"That's fine. I like that you want me so much. Did you really I think I was going to make you dance and compete with Jayeh for attention? I was joking with you. I know you don't dance."

"I was practicing on my trip every night with Inannah. I was trying to get better so—"

"So what?"

"So I could get better."

Cole arched his eyebrow at me. "Then I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to dance. I was about to go inside and play the piano. Come dance for me while I make the music."

"Oh no. I couldn't."

"You just said you could."

I grimaced. "Fine. I'll dance for you. So is she good? I mean Jayeh with her mouth."

Cole stood up, helped me back to my feet, and kissed me on the lips. "She's one of the best, but only because I help her practice."

"Do I need practice?"

I followed Cole inside. He didn't answer me. I felt a twinge of humiliation. I was certain I wasn't nearly as good at cocksucking as Jayeh. I felt like such a girl. That was the most wonderful and horrible thing about incubi. They made me feel like such a girl.

We walked into Cole's music room, where he asked me to undress down to my corset, and of course I did it. I danced slowly around while he played Chopin and Debussey on his piano for a while. I felt like an idiot. Ballet wasn't the kind of dancing that I'd practiced with my Mistress.

Eventually Cole stopped and danced with me instead of playing. He caressed my arm and my buttocks while we moved. He brushed close to my lips with his a few times, but he didn't kiss me. He was teasing me, and it was working. I was getting wet under my dress.

"So what are you up to today, Shar-si?" Cole said as we danced.

"Nothing. I was practicing my slave training earlier." I paused. We danced longer. He didn't say anything, so I kept talking. "I was practicing facesitting. Inannah was teaching me how to use a queening seat. I need to do it with my Fey girl."

"A queening seat? Really?" Cole gave a chuckle, which sounded to my lusty ears like a low mating call from his throat. I caught his eyes. They were distant, as if he were reminiscing. "I've actually got one of those. Mistress Jeanetteh de Joinville gave it to me as a gift. Jeanetteh is a French succubus—have you heard of her?"

"No."

"She and I had a lengthy romance nigh on a decade ago. She gave me that old seat with a red ribbon tied around it. She promised she was going to sit on my face regularly once we got married. You know—train me to be faithful to her. She got a bit obsessive in the end."

"Lovely," I said acidly. I sounded a little like Inannah.

Cole forced a grin. "I'm sorry, Shar-si. That was years ago. I don't fuck her anymore."

"I bet she'd like to. I bet she's sent you a bird since then."

"Yes. I'm a bloody bastard." Cole stopped dancing and held me by my shoulders. "I blame myself for your envy, Shar-si. I need to be more tactful with you. Most succubi don't mind the screwing around, flirting, and teasing, but you're a more serious type. You're also more fragile. I love that about you."

"Really?"

"Tell you what. Why don't we try it. That will prove how much I like you in my life."

"Try what?"

"The queening seat. You'll be my queen. You'll sit on me. It's the least I can do for not paying enough attention to you. Come on, then. I think it's in my pit."

I couldn't help but smile as Cole tugged me by my hand. The idea of Cole venerating me was a little bit ridiculous, but intriguing at the same time. We descended the stone steps into his pit, past his lounge where a few of his slave girls were lounging on silk beds and couches. Cole didn't keep his girls in cages. He didn't need to. He was a powerful incubus, so his girls naturally adored him like a bronze god. Cole didn't have to worry about his girls sneaking off anywhere except into his bed at night.

We found the queening seat in a pile of knick-knacks. It was nicer than Inannah's but older with a black lacquer finish that looked a little chipped. We took the seat back to the piano room, where Cole undressed, and we fitted the seat over his head. It barely spanned his neck. He admitted it choked him a little bit, but he would cope.

I lifted my dress and settled down over his nose and mouth. He reached his hands up to tickle me. I giggled and wrestled his hands away. Cole quieted then and did his job in earnest, tonguing my cunt like a champ. He proceeded to venerate me. I knew that my fluids would influence Cole's mind, making him love me and want me—the same way I was affected towards him when he put his seed into me.

It was strange to be in his shoes, doing that to him. At first I tried rubbing his half-hard cock with my foot, but I gave up and rubbed between my own legs instead, trying my wicked best to come on him. As I rode Cole's increasingly wet face, my opinion reversed completely on the queening seat. The queening seat was a pure thing—more pure than my own turbulent mish-mash of needs. It was a focused and purposeful thing—a lot like my Mistress.

Finally I gave up on the orgasm and stood up. I wanted to fuck. We moved the seat away, and Cole fucked me. Cole fucked me deeply for my pleasure. He was sweet and charitable as always. He massaged my back with his strong, gentle hands, which relaxed me. Cole's cock worked his magic, and I spasmed.

I came three times for Cole in his music room before he filled me back up with his wonderful seed, which sent a warm life-giving fire all through my needy succubus being. Cole commented that he wanted to fill my mind too, and he trotted off to his library.

I sat on the piano bench, where I caught my breath and composed myself. I intentionally made a small wet spot. I blew down at my bosom to cool my sweat, which smelled unflatteringly like sulfur. If I'd known I'd be sweating like a horse in my corset, I would have powdered myself better like Fubuki. The thick, thorny foliage on MacNutt Hill seemed to raise a humidity.

Cole came back with a fat leather-bound book entitled _Don Quixote_. He said it was good reading in the English translation, and mentioned offhandedly his opinion that Inannah was neglecting my education in the fine arts. I was glowing when I strode out of Cole's home late that afternoon. He was a bastard sometimes, but he was devilishly handsome, intelligent, and nice. He knew how to leave a young succubus satisfied. Best of all, his willingness to do the queening seat with me showed that he really cared about me.

My driver was missing from the front drive by then, having been called away by Fubuki. I had to call his rear end back with a bird, but aside from that delay I got home in plenty of time to relax and enjoy the evening slave taking with Fubuki, who wanted to know where I'd been. I was excited to confide my Cole story. Fubuki remained unimpressed. By the standards in the wicked city of Dis, my queening seat story was unremarkable.

Fubuki invited me to go to a party that night, and I went back out and got fucked yet again by a handsome incubus friend of hers. His name was Master Lue Pang. With Fubuki's consent, I went down on his cock for him. Lue didn't have an opinion on my skill, but it was interesting to fuck another of Fubuki's boyfriends. Apparently she wasn't afraid that I'd steal that one away. Lue Pang was older, dignified, and Asian.

I got home very late and called it a good day. As I drifted to sleep, my mind traveled forward to dies Venĕris. Cole had told me where Jayeh recited her poetry, almost as if he'd wanted me to go have a jealous catfight with her. I didn't want to have a catfight with Jayeh. I wanted to give her my milk in exchange for her pussy.

Jayeh thought I was pretty, but she also thought I was a fool. She'd even slapped my face. My rational mind told me that I was being ridiculous and optimistic. I was going to see her anyway.

## Chapter 27. The Gold Heron

Each morning for the rest of that week, Inannah summoned me for more lessons in slave training. There were a myriad of details to deal with, and I won't bore you with them, dear reader. Nissia's sentencing at Hell's Court would be that weekend, which put me under time pressure. I tried to learn my lessons. I wanted Inannah to be proud of me.

I hadn't considered that I'd be accessing the slave pit daily and using all of Inannah's toys and slave paraphernalia. I was afraid I'd run into Master Asmodai more often down in the pit, and this was stressful for me. I didn't want to be in the same room with him. I didn't want to look at all of his edgy things that he used on his slave girls to make them cry and bleed.

I had other things to worry about. There were pit keys and cage keys to keep separated, for example, as well as cuff keys, collar keys, and harness keys. All of these things needed to be managed, kept straight, and kept away from the hands of the slaves.

Inannah kept her very expensive nectar supply in a wall safe, which had yet another lock. The key to this lock was super-important, and at the same time I had to stop myself from drooling all over the contents of the safe—the many glass jars and pouches full of pure powdered pleasure, which made my eyes bug out just seeing them for the first time.

Inannah made me swear to Lady Lilith that I wouldn't abuse the nectar in the safe except to mix the black tea for Nissia and myself as she strictly prescribed. I would do this each evening and morning at a small chemist's station in the cluttered pit workroom. I needed to access the safe, mix the nectar according to the recipe, then triple-check the safe to make sure everything was locked up after it was put away.

I was a little overwhelmed from the sudden responsibility, but Inannah had faith in me. Prior to this time, most of my interactions with the slaves had been orchestrated. I tried not to worry so much. Nissia was going to escape anyway if I had any say in it. I'd come to the conclusion that I just wasn't ready to train my own slave.

Each evening that week after the slave taking in the parlour, I retreated to a private nook somewhere and made progress in _Don Quixote_ for some hours. It was the strangest book, and so boring, but interesting and fanciful at the same time. My favorite parts concerned Dulcinea, the love interest of the book, and how romantic Don Quixote's love was. Was Cole sending me some sort of message? I didn't know. I was flattered that he'd given me the book, and I tried not to read much into it.

Dies Venĕris morning I awoke jittery, but I calmed myself down. Yes, I was attracted to Jayeh, but I decided that it was silly to think there was any chance she was attracted to me. I even enlisted Fubuki to go see Jayeh with me that night at the Gold Heron. I was working under the assumption that I was making a fool of myself, as Fubuki pointed out. I didn't say a word about my lesbian attraction. I implied that I was stalking Jayeh for a catfight.

Dies Venĕris afternoon, I saw Nimreh and had a blades lesson. Inannah also informed me that she'd hired a tutor to give me magic lessons three times a week. I didn't care so much about studying spells. I liked blades practice the best. I had a tremendous knack for it.

According to Inannah, I'd been a brilliant fighter in my days as an angel spy—a master of sword techniques. Nimreh affirmed that I had astonishing talents—more than she'd ever seen in a fledgling as young as me. She was serious about teaching me, and I was serious about learning. It was a source of pride, and even more so because Inannah believed in my brilliance.

Inannah wanted me to be a powerful succubus. Specifically, she wanted me to become a vicious assassin—an assistant for her as an ambassador for Hell. I welcomed the concept—I saw it as a way of getting respect and acquiring things I wanted, like Cole's continued attention. Most of all, I wanted Inannah to be happy with me.

I was so proud of all the special attention I was getting. I felt a little sorry for Fubuki when she declared that Inannah was ignoring her. As Fubuki and I climbed into the carriage to head across the south side of Dis to Heron Lake Square, I tried to cheer my sister fledgling up a little, since she was going out to such a lame, no-name establishment with me.

"Thanks for coming with me, Fubuki-si. How is Master Lue? Are you going to see him later tonight?"

"He's busy with other things. Probably another lover. Did you know he fucked Maitresse Du Barry and Maitresse O'Murphy at La Bougie Rouge?"

"King Louis' mistresses?"

"Yes. He told me the story dies Martis night after you left the party. Lue's wife went and fucked King Louis, knowing he hates the French. Lue went after her, fell into the hands of Louis' mistresses, and ended up making things worse. His marriage with his wife has turned into a war of sleeping with people just to annoy each other."

"Thanks for sharing Master Lue with me. He was fine, but he's obviously more enchanted by you."

"I just wanted to see how he fucked you," she said, not looking at me. "I don't know if I'm going to see him anymore. I think I was right about him."

I frowned. "What's wrong with him, aside from already having a wife? He seemed fine to me. He didn't say much, but he did me as well as any incubus."

"Of course he did. I'm not saying anything. Forget it."

"What do you mean?"

Fubuki sighed. "Master Lue is a professional slave trainer. He's very good. Incubi from all over bring him their slave girls, but he trains boys too. He teaches them all sorts of refined techniques."

"Like cocksucking?"

"I'm sure. He teaches everything, and it shows in his lovemaking. He's too controlling. He makes me feel like a slave. Why do you want to know if he teaches cocksucking?"

"It was just a random question."

"Maybe you should see him again. I'll trade him if you give me Cole back." Fubuki looked off at a city slave who was lighting a gas lamp on the street corner.

"You shouldn't have thrown me at Master Lue if you were just going to be envious."

"I'm not envious. You don't get it. You make sex like a slave, Shar-si, and that's why you get along with Lue." Fubuki laughed. She threw her hands over her head, went slack in the carriage seat, and spread her legs. "Look at me! I'm a pretty angel, so come fuck me! I'm sorry Shar-si, but it's true."

I bit my lip. The last thing I needed on my way to girl-stalk Jayeh was a crushing blow to my succubus confidence.

"Incubi seem to like me just fine."

Fubuki shrugged. "Well you must be having trouble with Cole if you're going to harass his girlfriend at a club. It's a low move, but I don't blame you. Is Cole ignoring you?"

"No. He fucked me just yesterday."

"So why mess with Jayeh? Why are we even going to see her perform tonight?"

"I just want to listen to her poetry."

Fubuki looked slowly askance at me, and we made the rest of the trip in silence. We approached Heron Lake Square through a dark warehouse district south of downtown. The square was cozy enough with gas lamps around a little park in the center with grass, some thorny trees, and a low, swampy stretch of sulfuric water. A smattering of Gypsy ragamuffins played music for the succubi, incubi, and the occasional horned demon who strolled the sidewalks. Most of the people were lower-class, and some were drunk.

Fubuki ordered the driver to stop in front of a jewelry cart run by a Gypsy husband and wife. It was odd to speak with collarless humans in Dis, and we amused ourselves by flirting with them. Fubuki asked the man if he had a nice cock. I told him he had a pretty wife. I lied for her benefit. She looked morose, as if she never smiled, which I thought was a pity because Asmodai's slave girls would have surely jumped for joy to live free in her human shoes.

Pureblood Gypsies, of course, were the only humans in Hell who were exempt from slavery by virtue of ancestral contracts with Lord Hades. The Gypsies accepted our jests with little humor. Fubuki bought a cheap copper bangle and slipped it into her purse. I couldn't imagine her ever wearing it.

We finally made our way to the Gold Heron. It looked like a hookup place for Hell's middle-class residents, offering English beers and liquors within an Asian décor. Two horned and hairy dragon-type demons played billiards in the corner, some run-of-the-mill succubi sat at the bar in skimpy clothing, and a few tweed-jacketed incubi talked with the women over glasses of liquor. I didn't see Cole, which was a relief to me.

The bulk of the pub-goers coagulated in the middle of the Heron common room. They were seated in a low crowd of tables and chairs in front of a stage. All of the chairs were full except for one next to a scruffy incubus in an overcoat. Fubuki pounced on him, and after a few kisses on the cheek and a bit of sweet talk, we convinced him to shove off and let us have the table for ourselves.

Fubuki and I turned heads with our beauty, expensive clothes, and jewelry. I was surprised by the clientele. I hadn't realized that Jayeh was so lowbrow or that Cole had been bottom-feeding.

In truth, I didn't appreciate the arts and literature as much as I should have at that time. I hadn't gotten much of a cultural education from Inannah, aside from studying the history of the succubi and learning to revere the Lord and the Lady. I considered myself a cut above the Disian populace by virtue of my wealth and status, and I had yet to know anything different. I'd only known a succubus life for two or three years. I was very ignorant.

While we waited for the poetry, Fubuki turned moody. She didn't like the fake Asian décor in the English-style pub. I again tried to lift her spirits, this time with a glass of absinthe. She happened to have a wee bit of Hetemitis Red, and we snorted the nectar for maximum effect while we waited at the table.

The nectar's lust-inducing bloom hit quickly. When a decent-looking incubus introduced himself, Fubuki skittered off with him. The red nectar eliminated any barriers to that relationship. I myself began to lust for some of the ladies in the room, who outnumbered the incubi, which was unusual.

When the poetry recitals began, I attempted interest. I listened. I was impressed by the first two poets, especially Xiaoxiao, who was a silver-collared Asian slave. She was younger than I was. She was escorted to the stage by her mistress, who was a venerable elder succubus, judging by the clomp of her hooves when she climbed onto the stage. I was entranced by Xiaoxiao's beauty and voice, even though she recited poetry in a language that I couldn't understand.

Finally Jayeh took the stage. She was as painfully thin as I remembered, and she wore no corset. Her pear-shaped breasts hung slack like her bones under her thin black dress. I found Jayeh to be plain but exotic—compelling in a way that one is compelled by people different than oneself.

Jayeh played a beautiful stringed instrument with a long neck like a guitar and a pearlescent surface that shimmered. She sang her poetry instead of just saying it. Often her poetry shifted into other languages—Greek or French—but I understood that it spoke of ancient times—of love affairs between people of different races and classes. The theme wasn't lost even on me, and I wondered if the wealthy man in her poetry represented Cole.

Jayeh noticed me when she finished her poetry. The silver in her succubus eyes brightened and showed a moil of conflicting emotions before she turned away. I waited at my seat. I sort of hoped Jayeh would come see me, but she didn't.

Fubuki came back to the table. She declared that she was bouncing to another party with her incubus, and asked if I wanted to come. Fubuki looked over-energized and hair-mussed. I guessed that she'd been fed with an alley fuck, and maybe she'd bumped herself up with another shot of red. I declined. I still had eyes for Jayeh. Fubuki shrugged.

"Fine. You can keep the carriage. We'll get a rickshaw."

After the next performance, I slipped over to the guard at the door that led to the backroom of the Heron. "I'm looking for Mistress Jayeh," I said. "I'm a friend of hers. Can I go through?"

The bouncer looked me up and down and shook his head. "Send her a bird. The backroom is for performers only."

I gave him a disappointed look, but I didn't press him on the issue. I conjured Jayeh a bird as I went back to my table. "Jayeh, this is Shar-si. Cole introduced me to you at La Bougie Rouge. I was hoping to talk to you. I'm in the main room."

I sent my magical messenger bird off, and it flitted through the bird slit above the backroom door. I couldn't sit down again, to my chagrin. My table had already been taken. I glared at the interlopers with all of my well-dressed snootiness, but they just smirked at me. I ordered another absinthe at the bar, where I lurked and fended off a few incubi, even though I was still a little stoked by the Hetemitis Red, and I almost wanted them.

"Can I help you? You seem lost, lovely one."

An elder Asian succubus spoke close in my ear. She warmed my shoulder with her hand. She wore an odd red robe with gold trim that almost looked like a bathrobe fastened by a wide silk sash tied around her torso. She was a succubus, judging from the glow of moon-silver in her dark eyes. I recognized her then. She was the elder succubus mistress who evidently owned the poet-slave Xiaoxiao.

"I'm not lost," I said shortly. "Are you?"

"No. I'm the owner. Mistress Jiaoeh." The succubus gave me a look. "Well let me know if I can help you with anything."

I nodded a little nervously. I didn't want to ask Mistress Jiaoeh to help me stalk one of her own performers. I sent another bird to Jayeh on my way out the tavern door. "I'm leaving if it makes you feel better. I just wanted to say that your performance was beautiful and interesting, just like you. I'm sorry I was rude at La Bougie Rouge. I actually like you just fine. I just wanted to talk with you."

I took a pee in a gutter grate and ordered the slave boy to take me home. I was riding through the dark warehouse district when Jayeh's return bird whispered through the night and perched on my shoulder. _Thank you, Shar-si. I'm busy tonight, but please come see me again next dies Venĕris._

My heart leapt a little bit. I couldn't help it. I was a fool, I knew. I was a horny fool, though, and I wanted so much to fuck someone as I rode the way home. I was lonely. I regretted not going to the other party with Fubuki. When I got back to Beaujardin, I went down to the slave pit to pick a succubus nightcap. I wasn't normally allowed to just go into the pit and pick one of Inannah's boys (we kept them on schedules), but I was feeling rebellious, and I wanted to use my new pit privileges.

I went through the cages of the slave boys, and then dared to venture into Asmodai's domain. I lurked through the girl-cages in the low pit lamplight. Asmodai's poor abused slave girls were so beautiful lying in their cages like forbidden scarred skin-flowers. I imagined Nissia lying there, waiting for me to come get her and make her do things. I returned to the boy cages and picked one. I escorted him all the way up and across the house to my east wing bedchamber.

I fucked the boy in my bed and drained as much of his love-energy as I could get. I made the boy lie there like an odalisque to keep my sheets warm. He lolled with his spent, brown-pink cock exposed while I sat at my desk and wrote in my diary.

I wrote that my soul yearned to lie next to a woman. I wanted sweet-tasting feminine lips on mine. I wanted to kiss a neck that smelled like perfume and not sweat. At least my Fey slave would be arriving soon, and I would begin Nissia's training, and I would have her until I figured out how to send her on her way. Perhaps Jayeh, with her lower-class background, might know how slaves could escape from the cruel capital city.

That dies Saturni morning, Inannah took me out, which was a surprise. We went for a spin around town, including a trip to the Disian Coliseum to see gladiators fight. It was nice to spend time with my Mistress.

Later, I studied blades for some hours with my trainer. The fighting and killing at the arena had inspired my general succubus lust, and I wanted to unleash some energy. On dies Saturni night all of us—Fubuki, Inannah, Asmodai and I—attended the mass at the downtown cathedral. We prayed and sang hymns to the Lord and the Lady, and even Asmodai seemed to mutter the words with his devilish stoicism.

On dies Solis, Inannah affirmed that the Seelie Court Fey prisoners were being arraigned at Hell's Court on schedule. I was curious to go to see them, but according to Inannah the seating was limited and filled by important people for such an occasion of political significance. I only needed to wait a few more days.

On dies Lunae, my personal brand was delivered from Master Degas. It was a three-foot tong with a leaf of sculpted metal on one end and a smooth wood handle on the other. The handle looked like raw wood and unfinished to me, but Inannah said that was the way it was supposed to be. A varnish would get sticky when the tong was heated.

Inannah gave me a final slave training lesson, which was just a long lecture. I tried to pay attention. She reviewed the goad technique—a key succubus method of persuading a slave to open emotionally to her owner.

Inannah warned me that she herself would be cruel to Nissia on purpose. She would goad the Fey girl. Her cruelty would make me seem much nicer in Nissia's eyes. Nissia would naturally seek solace in me if I appeared to protect her and fight for her against Inannah's pitiless treatment. I didn't like the idea of Inannah of treating Nissia like this, but Inannah insisted that she and I should employ the goad technique on my Fey slave. It was the only way.

On dies Jovis, the day before I was supposed to go see Jayeh again at the Gold Heron, Nissia arrived. The Mistress summoned me out to the front driveway at dusk. The horrible ugly Court devils dragged Nissia from a cage-carriage, and Inannah signed the papers that the devils presented.

Nissia kept her eyes lowered. Her lower lip was trembling. The Fey was even more beautiful than I remembered, with her long walnut-brown hair and her pale, near-translucent skin. Of course, they had stripped her from head to toe. She was nude except for heavy iron handcuffs and a thick leather collar, which looked awful on her gentle neck.

The devils handed Inannah a black feather. She showed it to me. I thought it was a pen at first. "This is a tracking feather, fledgling. Hell's Court placed spells on all of the Fey as a standard precaution for dangerous slaves. If Nissia tries to escape, we only need to drop this feather, and it will point in her direction. I'll keep it safe."

Inannah had spoken with her voice raised, to be sure that Nissia heard. I nodded, smoothing the frown from my face. A tracking spell on Nissia would definitely complicate my effort to let her escape.

Inannah handed me the end of the leash. I tried not to look at the devils. They disgusted me with their blotchy skin and beady eyes. I shivered just going near them. I escorted Nissia quickly into the house past Fubuki-si. Fubuki's doll-painted face was difficult to read, but I knew she was envious. As I tugged Nissia by her leash, I was secretly proud for having achieved something as a succubus.

## Chapter 28. A Brand In Hand

Past the end of the worktables in the pit common area, a cast-iron woodstove rose with a vent pipe that went up through the dingy, soot-covered pit ceiling. This was where I would heat Nissia's tea. Inannah bent over the houseboy Paulo and directed the slave boy to load the stove with the wood from a cobwebby pile, thereby lighting that iron beast.

The fire burned bright, casting a ruddy glow over Nissia, who looked positively grim. The Fey was so beautiful. Her features were elfin, with green eyes, a thin nose and nostrils, and lips curved like the arches of a longbow. Nissia's fine brown hair was light and wispy around her ears. It felt like silk when I dared to run my fingertips through it.

Nissia's breasts were a little fuller than mine, perfect and shapely with pale, pointy nipples. Her waist was thin, and her stomach was as flat as Fubuki's, but her hips and rear end were a bit more generous and feminine. Nissia was a little taller than me. Her advantage would disappear when I was wearing my heels, and I intended to make the slave girl crawl a lot on her knees.

I admonished myself for these succubus fantasies. I still remembered dragging Nissia from her home and delivering her into slavery. Even with my daily half-cups of tea, I'd held onto that memory. I caressed her arm to comfort her and suggest that I meant no harm. I tried to meet her eyes, but she was looking at Inannah, who slid my brand into the fire. Inannah stood up, strode over to Nissia, and slapped her hard in the face. Nissia's gasp was audible in the quiet pit.

"Never look a succubus directly in the eye unless she commands you," Inannah said. "You're new here. You'll learn. Do you understand?"

I blinked. Inannah normally wasn't so cruel, and I didn't want her hitting my slave. In the excitement of the moment, I'd completely forgotten about the goad. "Mistress, I think I should be the one to decide whether to punish my slave for something."

"This Fey has to lose her attitude. Perhaps we should discuss this."

Inannah pulled the leash from my hands and marched Nissia through the pit to one of the girl slave cages, where she pushed the Fey roughly in. Inannah returned to me in the workroom, pulled me over to the warmth of the stove, and whispered in my ear.

"I'll be the cruel one, and you'll be nice, apologizing and making her feel better." Inannah grimaced. "I know you have some skills with apologies, at least. Never forget she is dangerous. The Fey can cast illusion magic just like I can."

I nodded. I understood that I needed to be careful. I understood Nissia would suffer before I could find a way to help her escape. Inannah took me to the nectar wall-vault. I was able to open it with the key, and I measured the black nectar while Inannah heated water in the burning stove. When the water was ready, I mixed a cup of tea for Nissia under Inannah's supervision. I took the cup to her cage and handed it to her.

"Please drink, Nissia," I said. "It's a nectar tea. You'll have two cups every day. It will help you feel better. It will be good for you."

Nissia took the cup from my hand. She lifted it halfway to her mouth, paused, and dropped it. The teacup shattered on the floor.

"Mix her another cup, fledgling," Inannah said. "She'll drink it one way or another."

"Yes, Mistress." I went back to the nectar vault with my cheeks heating. I looked back at Inannah, who was pulling Nissia back out of the cage. Inannah dragged the Fey through the pit and into the workroom again, where she laid the Fey over a worktable. I measured out another gram of black powder from the jar and focused on preparing more tea. I felt a little angry that Inannah was handling my slave. I'd imagined things happening completely differently, but I trusted Inannah. I knew I was ignorant.

By the time I had the fresh black tea ready, Inannah had cuffed the Fey, then bent her over one end of a worktable and tied her leash off at the other end, stretching her such that her buttocks and sex were fully accessible. My heart began to pound in my chest. Inannah procured a small leather bag, tube, and silver nozzle from the racks of paraphernalia on the walls. She demonstrated how to fill the little bag with the black.

"Lubricate her, then insert the nozzle and turn the stopcock," the Mistress explained.

"Yes, Mistress." I bent and dared to lave Nissia's anus with my tongue, then I pushed the nozzle in and released the fluid contents of the enema bag into her. Nissia moaned deeply, and her moan heated me. I'd never taken my black that way, but evidently it was effective. I could imagine the intense pleasure the Fey was feeling.

Inannah opened a drawer in one of the work room cabinets. She extracted a carved and polished ebony plug with an onyx gem in its handle. She pulled the nozzle from Nissia and inserted the plug just as quickly, sinking it deep and stoppering the black inside the Fey's body. Nissia gave another moan—a low sound thick with pleasure and inner suffering. I was feeling thick too—thick with desire, lust, and everything else inside me that made me a succubus.

"Her brand will go here of course," Mistress Inannah indicated the low hillock of Nissia's sacrum. "There's an art to it. I'll guide your hands. Please get your brand, fledgling. Don't burn yourself."

"Yes, Mistress." I carefully retrieved the tong from the fire. The end glowed dully. My heart nearly stopped when I went back to the table. Inannah was massaging Nissia's sex. Nissia whimpered.

"She won't feel much suffering," Inannah said. "The nectar in her will take care of that."

"I don't want to hurt her," I said. "She's suffered enough for one night. Do we have to brand her now, or can we wait?"

Inannah was annoyed with me for a second, then her eyes sparkled with cunning. She winked at me. "Yes. All slaves must be branded to show their ownership. Your heart is too soft and sweet, Shar-si. You must show no mercy."

I realized that I'd played to the technique of the goad, although I hadn't really meant to. I didn't want Nissia to be branded forever if I was going to let her free. I would always feel guilty. I bit my lip. "Maybe you should do it, Mistress?"

Inannah gave me a look, as if warning me that I was going too far. I wanted to show I was compassionate, not a bumbling fool. "No. This is how you stamp your slave girl forever. Even her future owners will know you were here first."

Inannah helped me position the tong in the air. We both grasped the handle with our hands. It was a difficult angle, but we managed. Inannah nodded, and we pressed the tong down. A wisp of smoke rose from Nissia's skin. She kicked and jolted against the strap that held her. Her shriek of anguish echoed through the pit. I'd forgotten the Fey shriek. I felt frozen for a moment, but Inannah forced the tong down for long seconds before she pulled it away, leaving a dark red mark in the shape of an oak leaf.

Nissia was officially mine. For the rest of her life, even if I let her go home, my mark would still be on her. I felt many emotions, dear reader. I was elated, fearful, disturbed, sickened, and aroused. I stroked Nissia's rear end and planted kisses on her skin. I touched her wound and sent love through my fingers, as if I imagined it would make her feel better.

Inannah unfastened Nissia, and we escorted her wobbling back to her cell, where we lowered her onto her sleeping pallet. Nissia moaned. She stretched with her fingers, but her hands were cuffed behind her so she couldn't quite touch her plug that held the black inside. I turned the key to throw the bolt home in the florette lock. Inannah said we were finished. Nissia would spend the night alone in her cage.

I went back to my bedchamber and wrote in my diary for a while, then I snuffed my lamp and tried to sleep. I lay awake instead, looking at the dim grey shadows on the ceiling that were formed from the driveway lamps outside, which the slaves kept burning all night to accommodate Master Asmodai's erratic schedule.

I kept thinking about the magical tracking feather. Could I ask Inannah to have possession of Nissia's feather? What would that accomplish? How did the spell work? Was there any way to trick it? I supposed I could question Inannah or my magic tutor, but I didn't want to draw the slightest bit of suspicion.

I imagined Nissia curled alone in her pit cage. What was she thinking? How was she feeling? I understood, or could guess, the psychological effect of isolation, and inflicting hopelessness on the girl. I also realized that if Inannah caught me going to see Nissia despite her wishes, I'd have an excuse—I was acting out the goad by being nice.

So I got out of bed, retrieved Nissia's cage key, and went back down to the pit in the middle of the night when the house was silent. I stood outside the bars of Nissia's cage and looked down at the handcuffed Fey. She was sleeping in the dim light of the few lamps that were still burning at that time. The Fey looked fragile, beaten, and forlorn lying nude on her simple slave mat of stuffed straw. I turned the key in the lock and went inside. I unlocked her cuffs. I couldn't help myself.

The Fey leapt from her mat in the blink of an eye.

Nissia was past me in a flash, and I was shocked because she'd looked for all the world like she was sleeping under the influence of the tea. Worst yet, she disappeared into thin air. I instinctively snapped off a quick kinehex in her direction—the same telekinetic spell that I'd caught her with in Elysium. I heard her grunt, even if I didn't see her. I launched myself with all of my succubus strength and managed to collide with a foot, which I grabbed and held fast.

Nissia pummeled my head with what felt like her fist, but I grappled higher to her thighs, and then I had her around her waist, even as she coalesced and solidified once again into flesh from invisibility. I upended her in the middle of the pit floor. I was physically much stronger than her even though she was a bit bigger.

I pinned Nissia with the length of my body again just like I'd done in the Elysian forest, and she finally stilled underneath me. We breathed hard, breasts against breasts, and I looked into her eyes. I was as frightened as she was. I was afraid to let her go of her even slightly. I was afraid she had more tricks to use against me, like another scream, and I was waiting for her to attempt them. I wanted to let Nissia escape, but not under circumstances that would place the blame squarely on my own failure.

"Nissia," I whispered in her warm ear, such that the slaves in the other cells, some of whom had awakened from the scuffle, couldn't hear. "I've tried to be nice to you, so please listen to me. I feel horrible for what happened to you and your people. I'm going to try to help you get free. But you can't just run out of the house. Mistress Inannah has the tracking feather to get you back. We need a real plan."

Nissia frowned at me. Her lower lip trembled when she whispered. "I don't believe you. This is a succubus trick."

"No. It's for real. I'm nicer than other succubi."

"You're young," she said. "Are you learning, or something?"

"Yes. I wasn't always a succubus. I'm a fallen angel," I said, as if that explained everything. "The succubi made me into one of them, but I'm still different. I don't really enjoy hurting slaves. Well, unless maybe if they are boys."

"What is that tea? What is doing to me?"

"It's black nectar, distilled from flowers on the banks of the Lethe," I answered. "I used to take it too. It relaxed me and made my memories of Heaven go away. It will help calm you and make you feel good, but the longer you take it, the more you'll forget everything from your home."

Our bodies were warming together, and my eyes strayed to her lips, and I shifted to form a better mold to her stomach. I pushed my thigh deeper between her legs at the same time. My movements were laden with sensuality. I couldn't help it. I wanted her. I was enjoying lying on top of her. My eyes and body language betrayed my dark succubus heat. Nissia turned her head as if recoiling. Her jaw clenched. I could feel her emotions hardening against me.

"You're still like the others. You lie. If you're going to let me escape, then let me. Otherwise put me back in my cage. Either way, get off of me please."

I did as she asked. I held onto her collar and her arm to make sure she didn't try anything, and I hauled her up and pushed her back into her cage. I locked the cage door quickly. Nissia snorted and curled up on her bed with her face turned away from me. She reached between her legs and worried at the plug with her unfettered fingers. I didn't watch her take it out, but I heard it clink and clatter across the stone floor.

I wended my way back to my bedchamber. I seemed alone in the house in the late hours approaching morning. I was so depressed. Things weren't off to a good start between Nissia and me. I'd meant to re-assure her that I wanted nothing from her—that I wanted to help her—but that wasn't completely true, and we both knew it. I'd betrayed myself by wanting pleasure from her already. I wanted to fuck her. Nissia was right—I was partly lying, struggling with myself.

I went to sleep angry. I had so little control over my succubus Hunger. I was pathetic. If only I had another woman to love and hold—someone who wanted me like I wanted her—then I could let go of my desire for Nissia without hypocrisy. It was already dies Venĕris again. I intended to see Jayah recite poetry again that coming night.

## Chapter 29. Three To A Pair

In the morning, Inannah woke me. We met in the pit to give Nissia her first real lesson. I had to explain how Nissia's cuffs had come off, and Inannah only seemed annoyed because of the risk I'd taken. She understood my midnight desire to go play with my new slave.

I mixed more tea while Inannah opened the Fey's cage. I warily handed the tea to Nissia. I pleaded with my eyes for her drink it properly instead of dropping it, and thankfully she did this time. She wrapped her hand around mine, and I put the cup to her lips. She choked on the intense numbing sensation.

Nissia's green eyes rolled back. She sighed—a sound like leaves in the wind. I caressed her hot cheek and pulled her from the cage. She was malleable and floating. I fastened a leash to her collar and guided her slowly upstairs ahead of Inannah. Such was the power of the tea-pleasure over Nissia that she had to grab onto my arm for support. I knew the tea-pleasure well myself.

We took the Fey to Inannah's office. The Mistress supervised while I instructed Nissia on how she should behave as a succubus slave. The Fey was more docile than the night before. The tea made her hot. Her skin felt feverish. Her eyes were heavy and sensual. Nissia did everything I asked of her. She was floating in pleasure and oblivious to the humiliation. At the end of the session, it was time for her to venerate me.

"I think you should use the queening seat, fledgling," Inannah said.

I agreed. After the episode with Cole, I liked the seat a little more. I helped Inannah guide Nissia to the floor and arrange the queening seat over her neck and head. I caught Nissia's eyes. She looked up at me with a quiver of contempt on her lower lip. By that point, she was starting to return to her senses. I lifted my skirt, removed my panties, and settled over her face. I took the leather crop that Inannah handed to me.

"What's this for?" I asked.

Inannah stood back with her arms crossed. "Go ahead, slave. Lick like a kitten, Nissia. Lick. Lick my fledgling's cunt like a little Unseelie slut."

I assumed Nissia could hear Inannah even with her head inside the stool, but nothing was happening. I felt no wonderful pleasure from her cute rabbit tongue—only her nose in my cleft and her faint warm breath on my nethers. "She isn't licking, Mistress."

Inannah nodded, as if it was obvious. "Now you know what the crop is for."

I snapped the crop against the top of Nissia's pale thigh, and again. I snapped the crop down onto Nissia's mons in a fit of inspiration. I slapped again with the folded leather against the small tuft of brown hair there. I didn't like hurting Nissia, but it worked. She yelped, whimpered, and began to lick.

Pleasure warmed my labia. The black transferred from Nissia's fevered tongue into my sensitive sex. I sighed with pleasure. Inannah's grey-silver eyes were bright as she watched me. I wondered if Inannah might be jealous of me with Nissia. I couldn't imagine her being so petty, but I knew she had a vulnerable side. After a few minutes, Nissia stopped licking and struggled a little bit. I stoked her with the crop again, and after that she found a pace and a rhythm.

And so I sat on my Fey's face for most of an hour in Inannah's office while the Mistress settled at her desk and worked on some papers like nothing special was happening on the floor. Finally, the Mistress said it was enough, and I let Nissia get up. I took her back down into the pit. I gave her a quick kiss on her damp, sex-drenched lips. I cleaned her face with a towel and water, and I put her back into her cage. Just as I was turning away, Nissia pressed her slender body against the bars.

"When will you help me escape?"

I blinked in surprise and looked into her eyes. Had Nissia suddenly decided to trust me? I whispered when I spoke. "I need a perfect plan to free you, but you will be free. Until then, I must train you so I don't raise the suspicions of my Mistress."

"This had better not be a succubus trick." Nissia shrank away, wiping a tear from her face with her hand. I could tell that it tortured her to even think of trusting me. I understood her desperation. Meanwhile, her first training had gone uneventfully with no protest or horrible scene. This relieved me. I felt like the goad was working. Of course, my promise to help Nissia escape fell perfectly in line with the goad. If Innanah caught wind of my intent, I could say it was a trick, a brilliant scheme I'd conceived.

That afternoon, I rested for some hours and practiced sword-forms on the patio behind the house. I practiced in an area that had been constructed as an open-air _gymnasion_ with a circle of hammered gold inlaid in the stones for a sparring ring. Master Asmodai, it could be noted, was a skilled blades master himself and occasionally practiced on the patio with a fencing master, just like me.

Fubuki came out to watch me. She lay by the side of the pool. She wore nothing but panties and a hat. She smirked at my lunges and ripostes. I was wearing a training robe, and Fubuki teased me about my fashion taste. Fubuki respected me. It was a curious revelation. When I finished, I crossed the patio and I asked her about going to the Gold Heron that evening. She said she was taking out a few friends of hers—fledgling Paloma-si and fledgling Trun-si—to a downtown club. She asked me if I wanted to come.

This put me into difficulty with respect to a carriage and driver, as the slave boys only kept two carriages active, or three at most for Fubuki-si. I already understood that Mistress Inannah was taking her own carriage to go to an opera with her husband, and I wouldn't consider using the master's sleek black two-seater. I didn't want to ask Cole, of course, so I decided I had no choice but to take a horse if I wanted to see Jayeh.

That evening I fuck-dressed myself in a modern black half-stola with double satin cinches that hugged my breasts and hips and set off my scant cleavage. I put my hair up in a braided bun that showed off my neck. I perfumed myself from head to toe.

Before I left, I needed to train Nissia. I met Inannah in the pit, and she supervised as usual. I mixed the tea. I gave it to Nissia. I straddled the Fey girl's face in her cage. Inannah and I were both pressed for time, so Nissia licked for only a short while. Nissia nipped my folds three times between her teeth, which made me clench with pain. I felt sure she was doing it on purpose, but I didn't hit her. I didn't scold her. I didn't do anything. I tried to show compassion and love in my eyes when I locked her cage door and left.

Inannah climbed the stairs with me to where the Master was waiting for his wife in the foyer. Like Inannah, Asmodai was well-dressed that night with his fine opera-going attire. The Mistress kissed me goodbye and wished me a pleasant evening. On inspiration, I lied about having concerns over everyone leaving the house. I was worried whether my new slave would have any chance to escape. Perhaps I was trying to look properly cruel in front of Master Asmodai, too.

Inannah assured me the cage was secure as long as Nissia didn't steal my key. I switched to the topic of the tracking feather, as I'd intended. The Mistress assured me the feather was in a safe place. I asked if I should have it.

Inannah said it was unnecessary for me to have the feather, and dangerous to keep it in my room, where I might someday take Nissia to attend my dressing and toiletry, giving her access to it. Inannah intimated that the feather was safely labeled and locked in a lead box in her closet along with half a dozen other old feathers from her and Asmodai's favorite slaves.

Inannah and Asmodai rolled away in their carriage. I ordered a stable boy to saddle a spare horse for me. It wasn't normal for a wealthy young succubus in the circles of Hell's Court to ride out across the capital city alone, but like Don Quixote, I blithely climbed onto my nag and went off on my lesbian quest. I rode fast down out of Beaujardin, enjoying the rhythmic jolt of the polished leather under my perfumed and wanting sex. I still needed to feed my Hunger that evening.

I rode across Dis, through the stinking streets and past the catcalls of soldiers and ugly demons. I wracked my brain for ways to free Nissia. Should I dare to steal the tracking feather from Inannah? The thought of delving into the forbidding recesses of the Master's bedchamber filled me with fear and dread. How powerful was the tracking feather? If Nissia got a head start on a horse, could she outrun anyone who went after her with it? I supposed it depended on Nissia's equestrian skills. I had no idea if elves were brilliant on horses.

I was so deep in my thoughts as I rode through the city that I was nearly run down by a motorcar—a great stinking beast that made a loud noise. Inannah had sworn that motorcars were a lowbrow fad of industry and the middle class, and she would never own one. She loathed Mistress Kensington up the street, who had purchased two of the noisy things and had been driving them through our peaceful historic neighborhood.

I reached the Gold Heron without any trouble. I tethered my horse, found a seat in the pub, and listened to the poetry recitations. Jayeh's poems that night were short and indecipherable due to her complicated references and polyglot lexicon. I hung on every word. I tried. I assumed she'd forgotten about me completely, and I was about to leave when her messenger bird landed on my shoulder.

Meet me behind the tavern.

I considered the strange invitation. Her tone had been tense and cryptic. Why did Jayeh want to meet me in a dark, beer-stinking alley? Was she going to strike at her rival for Cole's attentions? Was she waiting with friends and a shiv?

I gulped the dregs of my absinthe to stiffen my nerves. I went around to the dark alley, where three different couples were fucking against a worn brick wall, which was apparently the spot for such activities.

Jayeh was waiting in the rear, and she had a few succubus friends with her. Mistress Jiaoeh was one of the succubi on the rear steps. The owner of the Gold Heron looked out into the night while she smoked sweet-smelling herbs from a long pipe. Jayeh and her friend were smoking too. Jayeh held a hand-rolled cigarette in her hand. Jayeh wore a long antique brown skirt ornamented with gold beads, matched with a breast-hugging halter top.

"Hello Shar-si," Jayeh said. "Did you like the poetry?" A bit of relief ran through me. Jayeh's voice was elevated with no special signs of menace.

"Yes, your poem was lovely."

"This is my friend, Mistress Nathaleh. We wanted to head up to the French Quarter and maybe stop in at La Bougie Rouge. Do you want to go with us?"

"Sure," I said. "How are we getting there?"

"You have a nice carriage, right?"

I grimaced. "No. Fubuki-si took the carriage, so I only have a horse. I can take someone on it though. There's room in the saddle for two."

After some consideration, Jayeh decided to go alone with me, and Nathaleh would go home to her husband. Jayeh and I climbed into my saddle together. I hadn't realized that she was taking her guitar in its case, so it was awkward. She slung her guitar over her back and wrapped her arms around me. I took the reins, and off we went to the French Quarter. It was a bizarre situation, but neither of us wanted to walk that far over the cobbled Disian streets. I was Don Quixote again, and my adventure was becoming more curious.

We didn't say anything to each other while we rode. We arrived safely at La Bougie Rouge. I tethered the horse, and we went inside. A demon chamber quartet was playing on that dies Venĕris night. We sat, got drinks, and chatted.

I told Jayeh about my new Fey slave and about my life as Ambassador Inannah's fledgling. She said she only owned one slave—an average-looking boy. She lived alone in a loft down in the Heron Lake area. She asked me questions about poetry, but I didn't even know enough to have a preference. I told her I was studying some Greek, but otherwise I was very naïve. I suggested that she could loan me a poetry book to read.

Cole showed up. I'd had a pricking suspicion all along as to why Jayeh had wanted to go to La Bougie. Cole was surprised to see me, and gave both Jayeh and I equal kisses. He danced with me, and then he danced with Jayeh. While I sat alone watching them, it seemed clear that I wasn't going home with Jayeh that night, despite my most hopeful fantasies. My crush on Jayeh had only strengthened by that point, however, so I schemed for a re-take of the threesome.

When Jayeh went to powder herself after dancing, I confided this in Cole. He was reluctant, so I resorted to begging, and he made it happen. We trooped into the back room like before, where Jayeh and I undressed.

Jayeh again was the clever one and arrived first at Cole's cock. She extracted his cock from his fly and massaged it to hardness while he removed his shirt. I leaned over her to kiss Cole. Cole's lips were cool and salty from his martini. Jayeh worked Cole's dress pants off. We turned him against the wall.

"You can have him this time, Shar-si," my rival offered charitably.

I got on my knees, although it wasn't my favorite position. I'd never felt comfortable with sucking. Jayeh, meanwhile, got behind Cole, and pretty soon he was grunting with her fingers up in his ass, and his cock was pulsing hard as a rock as it jumped and hammered on my tongue.

Cole finally grabbed my hair and dragged me up. He picked me up in the air, pivoted, and pinned me against the wall. Cole was very strong. He fucked me against the wall while Jayeh worked him from behind, and I clung to him like a little frog. The position opened me so much, and he fucked until I came in a moaning ecstasy.

Cole sat down on the leather seat then, and Jayeh claimed him. She mounted him with her scrawny brown body and rode him like lightning with her dark hair flying and her skinny buttocks bouncing. I dared to stroke the corded lines of Jayeh's back. I ran my fingers over the bones of her spine and down to cup her buttocks. I pressed close and helped her a little bit.

I dared to press even closer and kiss Jayeh's shoulder while she worked. I pushed the position further and kissed her ear. She reached over her shoulder and gripped my head gently, as if accepting and enjoying my little attentions. And then she came, and Cole came also, and they were bucking together in ecstasy.

Jayeh said next dies Venĕris to come see her again, and bring Cole with me. Maybe we could all go someplace a little more intimate. Cole agreed, and he hugged me very affectionately. He was pleased with me. He told me he'd take Jayeh home. He asked me about Don Quixote. I warmed with pride. I told him I'd read three hundred pages. I felt very literary.

I was both happy and sad when I left for home. I was happy that I'd been more intimate with Jayeh, and she hadn't minded my kisses and caresses. My sadness, dear reader, should be self-explanatory. I was going home alone, while Jayeh and Cole were laughing and heading together for her abode.

When finally I got back to Beaujardin after midnight, I dismounted in front of the stable. A few of Asmodai's black Hell hounds trotted up to sniff and mill around me. The usual night boy was nowhere to be seen. The slave was likely sleeping, and I was alone with no lamp and a saddled horse in the mouth of the carriage house. I was a little tired and hungering, and hells if I was going to wade through a dirty, spidery dark stable to put my own horse away just because the stable boy was lazy.

It had been like that most nights. Fubuki and I had been parking our carriage and sending the lazy boy a messenger bird. Neither Fubuki nor I had bothered to waste our time admonishing the boy on behalf of the horses, who would stay harnessed until the boy woke up and tended to them.

Just as I was about to send a messenger bird to the stable boy, I had a bright idea. The saddled horse would be a perfect conveyance for Nissia to get away. I could blame the stable boys in general for their failure. Unfortunately, the Master and Mistress were already home on that particular night, and Fubuki was still out. I couldn't have Nissia grab the horse and break for freedom while Fubuki might pull up the road at any moment, or the Hell hounds might start growling and howling, alerting the Master and Mistress.

I decided to sleep on my idea, which was the best I'd had yet. I needed to face my terror of betraying Inannah and negating all of the time she'd spent on my behalf, as well as the money for my classy slave brand. Inannah was clever. She could see through ruses easily. I couldn't allow any suspicion of foul play to fall on me. I knew all too well how cruel Inannah's punishments could be, and how wicked her anger.

As I went to bed that night, I'd made up my mind. I was going to do it when the time was right. I was going to let Nissia free, put her on a horse, and blame that stable boy. Nissia's escape from her cage itself would perhaps remain a mystery.

With so many thoughts in my head, I couldn't sleep, and as the hours passed, my succubus life seemed to collapse upon itself, and little demons of self-loathing whispered in my ears. I pulled my strip of little steel hooks from my writing desk drawer. I took them under the blanket with me and inserted four them into my belly—two pairs into the tender creases on either side of my mons.

I turned on my stomach, and I masturbated. I imagined Cole slapping and commanding my ass, calling me a whore and a slut. When I came, I wept, such was my inner misery, and such was the Hunger that gripped my belly with its emptiness. I pulled the hooks out with trembling fingers, and I slept. In the morning, I discovered that one of the hook tips had ripped the bedsheet—such had been the force of my thrusting and tortured lust.

## Chapter 30. The Escaped Slave

I wanted to get the issue with Nissia over with, because it was making me unstable. I think Inannah intuited as much, because she ordered me to take one cup of black tea each of the following days to help soothe me. In the hours after I took each cup, I no longer cared to release Nissia, but slowly my resolve would come back to me.

I planned to give Nissia a saddled horse, and I'd found maid uniforms in the workroom in the pit. It seemed reasonable that Nissia could steal one of those to cover her nudity and help her get through the streets of Dis, if not through one of the outer guarded gates, which saw a lot of trade and military traffic. My plan had serious difficulties, and the tracking feather was only one of them.

My dies Saturni was busy. Mistress Inannah took me back to Master Degas to commission a nice silver collar for Nissia. I felt bad about Inannah spending more money on a collar for Nissia, but she insisted, and I had to accept it. We ordered Nissia's collar inscribed with a monogram that the metalsmith designed for me—the letter "S" with little wings to show that Nissia was owned by me.

After the collar shopping, we took the carriage into the East Market district to find Inannah some new nightgowns. I knew how Inannah's gowns frequently got ripped—they were victims of Master Asmodai's cruel desires.

That night Inannah fed from the slave boys in the parlour with me and Fubuki. Dies Saturni seemed to be our day to spend time with our mistress. That night was the evening mass again, and I prayed and sang hymns to Lord Hades and Lady Lilith in the downtown cathedral with hundreds of other upper-class succubi, incubi, and devils from Hell's Court.

When I got home that night, I went to the pit with Inannah to give Nissia her evening tea. The Fey drank quickly. Her skin was fevered to some degree from the tea, the effect of which persisted subtly all the way between her tea times. Her pleasured, intoxicated eyes looked darkly into mine. I could only guess what she was thinking as her memories drifted away from her across a dark inner lake.

I went to bed that night feeling wretched, and I had to resist hooking my still-sore skin again. Dies Solis passed with another training session for Nissia, more veneration, and more black tea that devastated the Fey girl yet again. She didn't look into my eyes this time while the pleasure possessed her. She kept her head lowered the entire time, as if surrendering, just like I had, to the undeniable, unstoppable pleasure.

I awoke dies Lunae morning truly resolute to do something. I went and trained Nissia in Inannah's office like normal. I sat on her face, and I enjoyed the wonderful and lovely licking of her wet nectared tongue up and down in my cunt. I realized that I was growing fond of her. I wasn't sure if I wanted to make the treacherous effort to let go, given that she'd become docile and sweet in serving me. If I only allowed her training to take its course, everything might be fine, except not fine.

That dies Lunae night at the slave taking, Fubuki announced that her relationship with Master Lue Pang was going fabulously, despite him making her feel like a slave, and she was going to spend the night with him. She politely asked me if I needed the carriage, but I declined. I could just ride if I desired to go somewhere.

I did ride after Fubuki departed. I skipped out on Nissia's evening tea with the Mistress. I took a tour around the downtown, going over in my head whether I really wanted to follow through with it. I received a messenger bird from Mistress Inannah about the tea, and I told her I'd forgotten and would give it to Nissia when I got home.

I was worried about this little anomaly, but I needed an excuse to be in the pit later, when I planned to conveniently leave the cell door unlocked. I stopped at a club for some drinks and heavy petting with strangers, and I performed fellatio on a random incubus who wanted me. I was feeling dangerous. I asked him boldly of his opinion on my sucking, and he confirmed that I was awful at it. I asked him to teach me, and he did. I was proud of myself for being so daring.

As a reward for teaching me, I let him fuck me. I gave Master Godrick my name and address, and he was surprised by my highbrow location in Beaujardin. I didn't tell him my true provenance, or that I was the fledgling of Ambassador Inannah. He said that he'd definitely send me a party invitation some time.

I returned home just after midnight, and sure enough the stable boy was slacking and asleep somewhere again. I left my horse and proceeded quietly through the house and down into the pit with my heart pounding faster with every step. I made a cup of tea, going through the proper motions so that nothing would be amiss. I left the cup sitting on the workbench.

I unlocked Nissia's cage. I knelt close and whispered to the Fey. "I'm leaving the door open. When I'm gone, take a maid's smock from the cabinet in the workroom. Take a weapon if you can find one. Use your invisibility magic to get out of the house."

"Thank you," she whispered back. Her eyes were wide.

"There is a saddled horse waiting for you in front of the carriage house at the end of the east side drive of the home. There is a slave boy who is supposed to handle the stable. You may have to deal with him. I can only hope the Hell hounds won't give you much trouble. Can you ride a horse, I hope?"

"Yes," she said. "Of course."

"When you get to the road, take a right and follow it out of Beaujardin. Take another right when the road hits the Lady's Highway, which will run you away from downtown across the south side of the city. Keep going into the market district, where you'll see a lot of warehouses and closed-down stalls. When you reach the city wall, follow it left until you get to the gate. Use your magic to get past the gate if you can, and then you're in the forest, and you'll want to turn right and head south into Erebus. You'll have a long, long road. There might be trackers after you, so ride as fast as you can, and hide when you need to rest."

Nissia pressed forward and hugged me tightly. When she broke away, she was smiling. The Fey's smile was beautiful, and I realized then that I'd never even seen her smile before. She looked like a different person. I stared into her green eyes for a few seconds. I wanted to kiss her, but I tore myself away and didn't look back.

I went and downed the cup of black tea myself. The pleasure warmed my throat and raced to my toes. I could barely climb the stairs. I'd gone a number of moons with only half-cups, and that day I'd taken two full cups of tea. I reached my bedroom without incident, lit a stick of incense, and lay floating for quite a while until I fell fast asleep, praying that Nissia would get away.

I awoke to sharp pricks on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see the black feathers of Inannah's bird before it faded away. Her stern voice spoke.

Your Fey slave has escaped, fledgling. Her cell door is unlocked. Meet me in my office immediately so we can discuss this.

I dressed quickly, went down to the office, and sat opposite Inannah at her desk. I rubbed my head. I had a tremendous headache. The Mistress looked extremely displeased. I fidgeted. I tried my best to look vapid, sleepy, and innocent.

"I must have left her cell door unlocked when I left last night."

"You weren't supposed to go into her cage," Inannah countered. "You were to hand the cup through the bars for your safety."

"She was asleep. I needed to wake her up for her tea."

Inannah pursed her lips and pushed Nissia's tracking feather across the desk at me. "And now you need to track her down. Mistress Nimreh will be here soon for your blades lesson. I'll pay her instead to help you go after your escaped slave. If the feather shows that she made it out of the city gates into the Tartarus forests, however, you should give up the chase. With the Fey's panglamour magic, she could run you around in the trees indefinitely. If you can't find her, I'll need to hire a professional bounty hunter, or get a posse of devils from Hell's Court."

"Yes, Mistress."

Inannah glowered at me. "Well, go! Get dressed. You'll need your riding pants and your sword. You'll need to drop the feather from waist height. The feather will point the way towards Nissia, and the speed of its descent will indicate her distance. Nimreh is surely familiar with it."

I went and changed clothes. I fingered the magical tracking feather, imagining that I could feel its magical power. I hoped Nissia was safe and out of the city already.

Inannah and Nimreh met me at the stable, where a boy had a horse ready for me. We dropped the feather, and it fell very slowly when I dropped it, spinning in slow motion through the air. Nimreh and I rode fast across Dis, dropping the feather every five minutes until we reached the outer city wall. The feather pointed straight at the massive wall and fell faster than before, but still slowly. Nimreh shook her head, as if pitying me. Nissia was apparently outside Dis. I agreed to part ways with my blades teacher, and I rode home alone.

A sense of happiness and relief came over me. Nissia had made it. She wasn't safe, but she was at least on her way home. I prayed that she would ride far, far away from Dis. I'd done what I needed to do to make my inner peace with both the Fates and my morality. I feared a punishment when I got back to Beaujardin, but Inannah appeared dismissive, which made me more fearful, not less. I knew Inannah's mood, and I knew there was something she wasn't telling me.

"You'll punish yourself tonight for your mistake," she told me.

"Yes, Mistress. Will you help?"

"You know I want to, but not with my husband here. We'll have time to spend together when we go north for the winter. You didn't want your slave anyway."

A glimmer of a tense smile caught the corner of Inannah's mouth. I smiled back. I loved that the Mistress knew me so well. I wanted her in my bed to punish me personally. That night I used the hooks again, and I imagined Inannah doing it. I imagined her holding me down by my hair and fucking me with her fingers.

I used eight hooks in my mons and lower belly. I just kept going. It was more than I'd ever used before. I left my bedroom door cracked open. I imagined Inannah was watching, so she could see how much I loved her and wanted to please her, despite letting Nissia go free.

The following day passed, and the day after that. My tea was reduced back to a half. The Mistress made no mention of taking a special effort to hunt the Fey. No more punishment came, nor any further discussion of Nissia. Such reticence wasn't like Inannah. She never dropped a major issue so quickly. She was a tactical aggressor. She pressed ahead and never retreated unless she intended to attack again. Worse yet, I'd as much as admitted some culpability by falling silent when she'd accused me of not wanting Nissia.

At the same time, a depression hit me. I hadn't realized how much Nissia meant to me as someone for whom I felt sympathy. Like her, I was a foreigner among the succubi, of a noble race from a distance place. I was glad she'd escaped, but her departure reminded me how I also struggled to fit into the cruel city of Dis.

Some weeks passed, and I made very few diary entries, dear reader. I may have been worried that Inannah was reading my diary, another technicality that I hadn't considered. During these days, I went through my usual routines of meeting with Mistress Nimreh and Mistress Hattepreh for my blades and magic lessons.

I was applying myself and working hard to better myself as a succubus, and both tutors seemed to think highly of my abilities. I didn't have such a high opinion of myself. I thought maybe they were just stroking my pride because I was the Ambassador's fledgling, and they were expected to coddle me like royalty.

Summer passed into fall with still no more discussion of Nissia, and I ceased worrying about her. I went each dies Venĕris night and watched Jayeh recite poetry, and then typically we'd go back to her loft to have a threesome with Cole. I enjoyed the threesomes. I was over my insecurities. I wanted both Jayeh and Cole.

Jayeh and I formed a casual friendship. We understood each other at the level of being women. We both loved Cole. We turned more feminine when we were in his masculine presence. The _menage a trois_ was an art form, as Inannah informed me when I mentioned my escapades. She gave me some random pointers on the topic, but I felt like my experience counted for more. I wasn't aware that she ever did threesomes with Master Asmodai.

I also finished Don Quixote during this time and started another book Cole gave me—a collection of Spanish poems. The Mistress seemed pleased with Cole, and said that she appreciated his help in my education. Perhaps she had underestimated him.

Inannah was working during this period to wrap up her personal and professional business. We were getting ready to go north again for the winter. The Mistress was finishing yet another book—a military recount of the sack of the Blessed Isles during the previous spring. She had taken testimonies and interviewed soldiers.

The book had to go to the printer before she, Fubuki, and I could move to the country château in Apertura Arroyo and retire for a while from the city life. Inannah had free time. For some reason, she was no longer performing her ambassadorial duties for Hell's Court.

September passed, and with it a lot of parties and incubus-fucking that I recorded in brief terms in my diary. I was stymied in my efforts to find a real lesbian relationship with another woman until one dies Venĕris night, when everything changed between Jayeh and me.

By this time we knew each other well and had become friends. We'd even gone shopping together a few times, and she'd gifted me with a signed copy of a poetry book of her own. I met her behind the Gold Heron as usual with my horse, where she was smoking a cigar to calm her nerves, or so she told me. To me, she never looked nervous.

"Cole can't be here tonight," Jayeh said. "He's with someone else."

I frowned. "Who?"

"She's another pretty rich bitch from the high circles of Hell's Court. I don't mean any offense, Shar-si. Her name is Mistress Thyrah. She's a former Duchess of Cummerbund or Brunswick or something like that. Her husband was an officer in Hell's army, but he was sent to the void in a skirmish against Heaven in western Erebus. Thyrah is out of her mourning period, and now she's playing the field for a new incubus. Cole is looking for some play with her, preying on her vulnerability surely."

"He's a bastard to stand us up," I said.

"I know, right? So I don't know what I'm doing tonight."

"We could go back to your place anyway," I said. "We don't need Cole." The words darted out of my mouth like pregnant lightning. I'd rehearsed those words in different variations over and over in my head like a hundred times, imagining the exact scenario that had finally presented itself.

## Chapter 31. Strung For Allegro

Jayeh's loft was warmer than the Disian streets, almost stuffy. Persian wall hangings decorated the lavender-painted walls except in the living room, which was a sunken performance pit with wooden seats. A square parquet floor and a ratty red rug rounded out the middle. A variety of musical instruments were arranged on the wall. Jayeh had said she gave music lessons in her flat during the day to support herself as a single unmarried succubus.

Jayeh lit a stick of incense and settled on the edge of the music pit with her instrument from her performance at the Heron, which she called a bouzouki. We sat down, and she played a little bit. She showed me how to hold the instrument and pluck a chord with her plectrum. I definitely wanted to pluck a chord with her plectrum, but I was patient, brushing against her and touching her as if in passing to make it clear that I wanted her if she wanted me that night without Cole around.

"Have you ever made love just with a woman," Jayeh finally asked me point blank.

"I have," I said.

"With who?"

I bit my lip. Of course, I'd had several intimate encounters with Inannah during the previous two seasons in the north country, but Inannah had sworn me to secrecy. Such forbidden love could ruin her reputation. "I can't tell you."

"Right," Jayeh said. "Lesbian love is treason against our Lord."

"Well, you didn't have to say it."

"Will this help?" Jayeh put down her guitar and gave me a full-on kiss on the lips. Her warm wet tongue pushed aggressively between my teeth, and her hand fell to my breast and lower across my stomach to my lap. I put my hand on her skinny stomach, just above the hem of her skirt. She pulled back from our embrace and looked me in the eyes. "We can do this without you breathing a word of it, right?"

"Right." I smiled wryly. "I have a solid record of confidence. I just now refused to tell you about my other lover."

We kissed again, fencing with our mouths. I reveled in twining my tongue with her tongue—that skilled, intelligent tongue of hers that made so many wonderful sounds during her performances. Jayeh tasted and smelled like cigar smoke mingled with cheap red nectar. Her warm hand went to my bare knee and slid up the inside of my thigh. Her fingers pressed into my pantied sex and gently caressed.

Her touch was so perfect, even better than Cole's. Cole's touch was strong but gentle. Jayeh's touch was everything plus feminine. I was timid. My hand stalled on her stomach. Her narrow hips made it difficult to soldier lower. I went up to her modest breasts instead, which were uncorseted, like wild fruits just hanging loose.

We rubbed against each other. We swayed a tug of war to see who would top the other. Jayeh was so thin. I was younger, but I was somewhat stronger and more muscled. I ended up pushing Jayeh over and straddling her hips.

I ran my lips down her neck like an explorer conquering a new world. Her hands responded by caressing my back and grabbing my ass. After endless minutes of more kissing and caressing, Jayeh pushed me off, but only to pull me to her dark bedchamber, where she shooed her male slave away from his mat at the foot of her bed. Jayeh closed the door, and we were alone.

We helped each other undress, and the lovemaking began in earnest. Our wet fingers tested, teased, and penetrated. Jayeh had a remarkably large and firm clitoris compared to the size of her lithe brown body, and I enjoyed the feel of it, knowing she was aroused by me.

I went down on Jayeh with abandon and tasted that clit with my mouth. I licked her like Nissia had licked me. I had the crazy idea in my head that I wanted to venerate her. In truth, I didn't know what I was doing, and she showed me. She turned the tables and fingered me far better than Cole.

She sealed her lips tightly over mine, and I felt her suction tighten my throat, and the pressure of her succubus Hunger reached all the way to my sex, and when I came, Jayeh hauled my orgasm upwards through my entire body with the force of her succubus Hunger. She took my energy from me. It was incredible.

Jayeh's eyes went wide, and she licked her lips with a smile. She said I was delicious and angel-sweet, maybe the best girl-orgasm that she'd ever tasted. She asked me if I wanted to slake myself with her, and of course I said yes. I fucked her with my fingers, but I think she was tense, and I wasn't skilled. She didn't surrender her love, so I couldn't even attempt to take it.

Finally I gave up, and we lay in each others' arms, and I asked Jayeh why I didn't please her. She answered that she was very nervous, since I had close Hell's Court connections. Ambassador Inannah was a well-known and outspoken anti-lesbian.

I snorted and laughed. "I wouldn't be so worried about that. So you're a fully-fledged Mistress, but you haven't found a man?"

"Not one who I'd like to marry," Jayeh answered. "I'm picky. I like Cole, but maybe he isn't going to work out with me either."

"He probably won't ever marry anyone," I said, as if I were wise to the ways of incubi.

"Well, it's unfair that succubi are required by law to marry but the incubi aren't. How am I supposed to comply with the law if there aren't enough men to fall in love with? For every incubus who doesn't marry, like Cole, there is a single succubus." Jayeh's voice sounded vulnerable. I realized that she was confiding something in me—something deep and worrying for her.

"You'll be fine," I offered. "You're beautiful. I'm sure you can find a man to love you if you want."

"I'm afraid I'm really a lesbian, and not just bisexual. I thought I'd outgrow it, but I'm not. Maybe I've been lying to myself, and I'll never fall in love with an incubus. I don't want to get arrested. I don't want the devils to send me to the Disian prison."

"Surely that won't happen."

"It's happened before," Jayeh countered. "Every few centuries, Hell's Court goes on a campaign to rid the capital city of lesbians. I don't think they get a warning. The succubi must take husbands from the male children of Lord Hades and take the seed of His seed, and if they don't, the devils get rid of them. You must swear to me that you won't say anything about this to Ambassador Inannah or Master Asmodai. I'm so terrified even thinking of it. My life is in your hands, Shar-si."

"I won't. I swear to you by Lady Lilith. Inannah is one of us, anyway. She was my only succubus lover until you. So don't worry."

"Inannah has made love with you?"

"Yes. She's given me pleasure many times. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but now we know each others' secrets, don't we?"

Jayeh fell into silence. She seemed shocked that Inannah secretly indulged with me. That seemed to relax her a little bit, and we started kissing and caressing each other again. Jayeh said she wanted to fuck me with a phallus if she could find one. She asked me if I'd want to be with her again.

I said yes, but I warned her that I was moving soon to the north country where Inannah and Asmodai kept a country château. I also warned her that I'd probably be in bed with Inannah again when we were away from her husband, or at least I hoped so. That dampened Jayeh's enthusiasm, but we still agreed to see each other until then.

We decided that I would arrive under the pretense of taking music lessons in the early afternoon, and she would give me lessons in between sex so the neighbors would hear the music and no one would suspect anything.

We talked in bed in the candlelight until the hours of morning. Jayeh's worries and precautions sobered me about lesbianism. She seemed terrified to be a single succubus for so long in defiance of our Lord's laws. Apparently her options boiled down to three—join the Serpent Sisterhood and seek an exemption; leave Dis completely and take her chances in Caina or Hetemitis where Hell's Court was less vigilant; or marry any incubus who would give her a ring, even if she didn't love him.

Jayeh spoke wistfully of the Serpent Sisterhood. She said many lesbians went to serve in the Sisterhood solely for the military exemption from marriage. Of course, she'd have to train to fight in the war, and she didn't have the strength or desire to learn swords. She was a poet. Worse yet, a certain percentage of succubi in every new Sisterhood training class were killed in some sort of cutthroat competition, where the penalty for failure was death.

When I left that night and rode home, I was a little angry at our Lord and his laws. Jayeh was a wonderful artist, poet, musician, and lover, but she was privately miserable. Her passionate dalliance with Master Cole appeared to be transitioning into something like my own relationship—a weekly fuck at best.

Over the weekend, Jayeh and I communicated by messenger bird, but I was too busy to see her. We arranged to get together on the coming dies Martis for a music lesson. I explained to Mistress Inannah that I wanted to take music lessons with Jayeh, who was a friend of Cole's, and she said that was acceptable. She seemed pleased by my pro-activeness to better myself. She gave me some gold aurei coins to buy my own instrument.

When dies Martis came, I dressed my best, and I went on my way to see Jayeh. I purchased a gift of expensive perfume using a few of the gold coins. Jayeh was delighted by the perfume, but she was a little dismayed. She was hoping to actually get paid. I gave her some denarii, and her mood improved. She'd gotten me a gift too—a polished hardwood phallus made by a Greek artisan she knew. She'd also gotten a harness to strap it around her slender waist along with some Rhyming Blue Beauty. We took the nectar together.

Jayeh and I took turns trying the wooden phallus on each other, and I made her come. I was so happy to finally give Jayeh an orgasm without the need for Cole's cock in her cunt. We kept rhyming with each other while we talked. She said one thing, and I'd rhyme not by any effort—it just happened magically from the nectar. It was the most beautiful lovemaking, and we didn't bother with any music lessons.

I wanted so much to stay all day and night with Jayeh. I wanted to be together with her. I wished I could magically transform into an incubus so I could marry her, please her, and give her a ring. None of that would be, dear reader.

Jayeh and I saw each other twice a week from the end of September until the end of October. She helped me buy an inexpensive bouzouki of my own, and I gave her the balance of Inannah's coin as a fee for her services. I was glad to help Jayeh financially. Jayeh confirmed why she was painfully thin. Her picky feelings toward incubi and her single low-quality male slave meant that she didn't feed her Hunger much, and she also had an expensive nectar habit. She needed Beauty to write her lyrical poetry. She couldn't live without poetry, so she couldn't live without Beauty.

In the first week of November, Inannah announced that we were finally leaving. She, Fubuki, and I packed for the flight north. Our essential possessions were crated and packed into the riding baskets of the wyrms—those great scaly beasts that conveyed the more well-to-do denizens of Dis to distant places in Hell. I almost wanted to ask Inannah if I could stay in the city over the winter, but I didn't. I loved Jayeh, but I wanted to nestle again like a bird in Inannah's arms. I wanted Inannah's touch. I wanted her attention. I wanted her love.

I loved Inannah, and the winter was our special time together away from Master Asmodai. In fact, the main reason why the Mistress went to the country was to heal from her husband's intense and painful abuses of her body and mind.

I was conflicted about the annual move, but Fubuki was more enthusiastic. The fashion industry in Dis was mostly dead in the winter, and she was looking forward to the smaller, more private parties in Apertura Arroyo. Cole would be up there too, I assumed.

I realized that I had an advantage over Cole's affections because he lived just down the road from us in the north country. When Jayeh and I kissed and said our parting words, I made her promise that when I came back in the spring, we'd make love just as before. I considered inviting her up to the north country. I considered asking Inannah to fly my music teacher up, but I had no faith that Inannah wouldn't see right through me.

For better or worse, dear reader, fate sometimes spins the weave in ways unexpected, and all of those plans were not to be. Inannah, Fubuki, and I flew north uneventfully and unpacked our things as planned. The desperate slave boys were happy to see us. We let them free of their stifling cages, and they busied themselves cleaning branches and weeds from the driveway and unshuttering the grand old château windows. We planned to unlock their chastity belts only when we needed their cocks.

Inannah invited me to her bedchamber immediately, and we indulged in a bit of forbidden lovemaking, which involved the little steel hooks of hers that stimulated us both. I began lessons with a new blades tutor in Apertura Arroyo. The retired Serpent Sisterhood lieutenant was matronly and informal. I didn't like her.

I went to a few parties with Fubuki and took red nectar. I had a few good weeks with the wealthy incubi in Apertura Arroyo. I didn't see Cole at the first few parties. Fubuki learned that he'd stayed in Dis with Mistress Thyrah, indicating a possible sea change in Cole's bachelor status. This really depressed me, and in mid-December, my succubus life turned on its head.

We received word from Master Asmodai that Nissia was back in the capital. The little Fey bird was back in her cage and waiting to resume her slave training. Nissia had come home. The news shocked me and disturbed me deeply. I interrogated Inannah about how it could have happened, all while attempting lamely to seem happy.

"All of the captured Fey had a fate bindings placed upon them, fledgling, in addition to the tracking feathers," Inannah answered. "I told you. Nissia is a slave for all eternity. She has been magically bound. She might have hidden herself for some moons in the old Tartarus forests outside Dis, but her fate binding would have physically prevented her from going as far as Erebus."

"And you knew this all along? Why didn't you tell me?"

Inannah shrugged. "You didn't ask. I guessed it was only a matter of time before hunters or a Hell's Court posse snagged her and brought her back into the city for the bounty on her head. She has a brand on her backside. I didn't expect her to come crawling back on her own though. It just shows how well the black nectar and her vénération of you had already started working in her head."

"She came back on her own?"

"That's what my husband said. He described her as a miserable thing with dirt under her fingernails and her hair tangled with burs. She was desperate, lonely, and cursed in the forest. She won't say anything more to my husband. She says she will only speak with you."

"What happens now? Will we bring her up here?"

"No. As I said, your slave is bound to the vicinity of Dis. Before she escaped, I wasn't planning on wintering up here anyway, so I suppose we'll pack our bags and go back. If Nissia sits in her cage all winter, she'll just waste away. We need to take care of her situation. She will serve as a slave in our home in Dis, and she will accept her fate as a princess in chains."

I bit my lip. In the pit of my dark succubus belly, something twisted and cruel was happening. I was aroused at the thought of Nissia underneath me. I was aroused at the thought of her obedience and my control over her. The Fates had decided that she would be mine. I was absolved of my twisted guilt. "I'm sorry for the trouble, Mistress."

"I can't pick up and leave this very moment, however," Inannah continued. "I need to clear my calendar again. Against my better judgment, I'm sending you down to Dis yourself. You can deal with Nissia for a week or two until I get there. I'll write up a training regimen. You can do it. You can have your pick of the slave boys to feed yourself. I assume you can unlock their chastity belts. I'll be in Dis on the solstice at the latest."

"I'll be fine, Mistress."

"Never forget the Fey is dangerous. If you're alone, you should make sure that she takes her tea before you unlock her cage for training. That way she is easier to manipulate. I'll ask my husband to oversee your evening sessions. In the morning you'll be on your own, as it's too much to ask him to come home from the Court."

Inannah seemed both pleased and annoyed by the situation. I assured her that I could handle it. My enthusiasm was genuine, because the turn of events meant I could see Jayeh through the winter. Between Jayeh and Nissia, I imagined a wonderful time in the capital city, engaging in decadent love with my slave and my music teacher. Perhaps with Jayeh's help, I could also pester Cole for attention and try to sway him back to his bachelor ways.

My life as a young succubus adventurer had never looked better. The only problem was that I'd be living in the Disian home with Master Asmodai. I prayed to Lilith that he would just leave me alone. I hoped he wouldn't even speak to me.

## Chapter 32. A Serpent In Paradise

I handed the teacup to Nissia. She drank the black tea in gulps. She moaned, and her fingers trembled when I pried the empty cup from them. Nissia's eyes rolled back as the intense pleasure filled her head. I sniffed the empty cup. My nostrils tingled with a bit of pleasure.

The Fey girl grabbed the silver cage bars and leaned for support. I unlocked the door, clipped the leash to her leather collar, and tugged her out. I helped her slowly up the stairs. I caressed Nissia's lower back as we went, running my fingers over my brand on her skin. Asmodai's slave girls had bathed her, but she still smelled of trees and leaves. I frowned at the fresh red weals on Nissia's arm and ass, however.

"Are you sure you didn't tell Asmodai that I let you escape?" I asked as we climbed the pit stairwell. I didn't bother whispering. I'd watched Master Asmodai leave half an hour previously. My second-floor bedchamber had a view of the driveway where it widened in front of the stable house.

"No," Nissia murmured. Her voice was throaty from the numbness of the nectar. "I just came back on my own. I couldn't live in the forest anymore. It was too dark and horrible. There are ghosts out there, and when I tried to go in any direction, I reached a point where my feet refused to move. A magic force held me. I...I couldn't get a single step farther away from this horrible city."

"The Hell's Court devils put a fate spell on you. I'm so sorry. No one bothered to tell me about it, or I would have warned you. I don't want you to have a horrible life. I want you to be happy serving me. Please believe me."

Nissia didn't answer. She kept her eyes low. I escorted her to the dark parlour, where Kveta waited in the faint light that came from the edges of the window draperies. Kveta was the winter housegirl for Archduke Asmodai at Beaujardin. The capable female slave had taken over the duties from Paulo, who had traveled north with Inannah, Fubuki, and me. Kveta had arranged a stool in Inannah's parlour with a sheet on the floor. I settled wobbly Nissia onto the stool, and Kveta went after Nissia's hopelessly tangled, brambled brown hair with a pair of shears.

I watched Kveta snip aggressively. Nissia's hair fell in torrents down Kveta's linen maid smock. Kveta was older than most of Asmodai's girls, of middle age in human terms. Kveta wore the signs of long exposure to Master Asmodai's desires—several scars on her neck, dozens of lines on her thighs, and surely many more under her maid smock. A five-denarii coin piercing glinted on her left cheek, advertising her availability for oral sex with guests.

I realized another perk of staying at Beaujardin through the winter—I was surrounded by Asmodai's girls instead of Inannah's boys. I was in a lesbian paradise. I was supposed to unlock a slave boy of my choice each evening to sate my Hunger, but otherwise the entire house staff had changed over to girls. The stable had switched to two girls, but they wore no fancy pants and chapeaus like the boys. Instead they went nude. Their backs were striped with fresh pink whip lashes. Their heads were harnessed with feathered plumes to match the horses they groomed.

I'd commanded a stable girl to move Inannah's carriage, which had been stored in the side-drive, blocking my approach to the east wing access door. I wanted that carriage cleaned and ready for my use. I found pleasure in giving orders to those horse-harnessed girls. The pleasure was blunted by an underlying fear. The girls belonged to Asmodai, and I couldn't know how he felt about me using them.

Kveta chopped Nissia's hair to just under shoulder length. The slave girl managed to comb out the rest of the forest remnants. I could hardly imagine how Nissia had lived in the haunted, polluted forest outside of Dis, curled up for three moons or more amidst the rotting scrub brush and hoary old oaks.

I escorted Kveta out of the parlour, closed the door, and began my training routine, which involved Nissia obeying simple orders like standing, sitting by my feet, and keeping her eyes lowered. I moved to the vénération, but I eschewed the queening seat and sat on her face directly. She licked dutifully, drifting in her nectar pleasure.

I was so much more stimulated alone with her. I finally pivoted and lowered myself onto her. I couldn't help myself. I kissed her hot nectared lips, and I ravished her. I reached low and massaged her vulva, warming her while I sprinkled kisses across her hot abdomen and perfect elven breasts.

Nissia moaned softly, and when I felt her wetness crest, I scissored her with my fingers a bit, then I slid two fingers into her and thumbed her clitoris. I'd learned much from Jayeh about how to make love with a woman. Inannah was bland and unpracticed by comparison. When Nissia approached her apex, I slid up, sealed my lips over hers, and applied my succubus desire—the psychic vacuum that forced the psychic energy of Nissia's orgasm out of her mouth into mine.

Nissia came with hard little shivers and then an explosion, like shocks followed by a total disgorgement of her love. I drank her sexual energy into the empty well of my succubus Hunger, and with it came a rushing undertone of the nectar. The Fey's nectared love was so unlike Jayeh's. It was clover and mint leaves mingled with sea salt and tree bark. I'd never imagined such a taste inside of me.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, letting the energy from the Fey pervade me. I listened to Nissia's panting breaths—the only sound in the still room. Such was my awe of Nissia's love that if she'd have taken advantage of my reverie and killed me right then, I wouldn't have protested.

Nissia turned to me and pressed her forehead against my shoulder. I dared to pet her and stroke her soft hair behind her ear with my fingers. She clenched her eyes closed, as if my touch both pleased and pained her. I turned my head and kissed her gently.

"I'll take good care of you," I said. "I promise. I want you to be the happiest slave in Dis."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You're so cruel and sex-obsessed, but I can feel your compassion. If anyone should tame me, I'd like it to be you. I'm tired of fighting. I just want my suffering to end."

I blinked. I didn't think I was cruel at all, and her comment dismayed me. "I want you to feel lots of pleasure, not suffering. So please tell me if I'm too cruel."

"I understand you need to drink my energy from me. It's how you feed." Nissia put her soft fingers on my arm. It was an intimate moment. I understood the forest had been horrible for her, and Nissia needed love and companionship every bit as much as me. I caressed the red marks on Nissia's slender bicep.

"What happened here," I asked. "How did you get these?"

Nissia winced. "Master Asmodai."

"Did he fuck you?"

"He came into my cage," she said. "He slapped me and mocked me because I failed to escape. He tried to humiliate me completely. He insulted my people. That pleased him. Lord Hades only proves his evil by creating such devils and calling them sons."

A fury at Asmodai kindled inside me, but a rationalization for his behavior came to me. Inannah and I had arranged for Inannah to be cruel and for me to be kind—to apply the goad technique on Nissia, and thereby drive her to love me and devote herself to me. Had Inannah and Asmodai arranged to trade places in the goad without saying so?

Even so, it was unacceptable for Asmodai to be touching my slave girl. I loathed the idea of confronting Asmodai, so I resolved to speak with Inannah when she came down, as she'd promised, for the winter solstice celebrations in two weeks at most.

"I like women too," Nissia said suddenly. She shifted to look into my eyes. Her green eyes were liquid between her long brown lashes. "Do you remember Luma, my friend who you captured?"

"Yes. I think so."

"My memories are drifting away like you said, but I still remember Luma. We made love together. We always said we'd live together when we grew older. We didn't care much for the Seelie Court princes. Do you know where Luma is, Shar-si? Do you know who owns her? Do you think I could see her? It would make me so happy. Please. I need to stop drinking this tea, too. Or at least I need to see Luma before I forget her. You're a succubus. You hold love as sacred, don't you? So you must understand how I feel."

I bit my lip. "I have no idea who she even belongs to. The owners of your people were all worked out at Hell's Court. If the owners were made public, I wouldn't know, but I suppose I could find out for you."

"Could you? You're so sweet, Shar-si."

"We'll see." I felt a bit of jealousy towards Nissia's former lover. Nissia was mine. She needed to be thinking of me, and I felt strange. Nissia had placed me in a difficult position.

I noticed Nissia's eyes had brimmed with tears again. I caressed her and hugged her. She seemed to need comforting. I wanted her in my bed. Did I dare let Nissia sleep with me until Inannah came back? I knew Inannah wouldn't approve, but Nissia didn't seem particularly dangerous. If she were with me, Asmodai couldn't enter her cage and molest her.

I felt sad. Not only had I taken the Fey girl from her home, but I'd helped her girlfriend to be taken into slavery as well. Hell's cruelty knew no bounds. The depths of the wickedness and my complicitousness made me feel a little ill. Nonetheless, I climbed to my feet and plucked my custom silver collar from the side table, the collar that I'd commissioned just before Nissia had escaped from Dis.

I asked her to lie on her front side. I unlocked her ugly leather thing and replaced it with my perfect silver monogrammed circlet. I slid the lock through the little flanges and closed it with a click. The click sent a little thrill through me. I brushed Nissia's hair from her cheek, and I kissed her once more.

"Morning training is over."

"Am I going back to my cage, then?"

I nodded. "Yes. I have plans for the afternoon."

"May I have a book to read?"

I took a deep breath and assented. Nissia looked prettier with her silver collar. I wanted to paint her face next and shave her nethers, but those things could wait. I led Nissia into Asmodai's library to pick out a book. She selected _On The Nature Of Succubi_ by Mistress Ereshkigeh, which was an ancient text. I warned her to be very careful with it. I escorted Nissia back to her cage in the pit and locked it, and then I sent a messenger bird to Jayeh.

Surprise. My Fey slave who ran away came back, so I'm staying in Dis for the winter. I hope everything is fine with you, Jayeh. Can I come to your place for a bouzouki lesson?

I received the return bird twenty minutes later as I was undressing to take a bath. Jayeh's little green finch landed on my shoulder.

You can come now if you want. I could use someone to talk to. I got a breakup notice from Cole. He said he couldn't see me anymore. Did he break up with you too? Did you get something formal?

I froze and blinked, and a slow burn of pride went through my chest. I'd gotten no notice from Cole about breaking up, and the very idea seemed stupid. It was only then that I realized how I still felt about the lust-triangle situation. I'd come to love Jayeh, but I was secretly pleased that Cole had dumped her, while keeping me in his succubus stable.

After I took a pleasant bath, Kveta helped me dress. The slave girl seemed eager to please me. Either she was bored with managing a giant house occupied only by Archduke Asmodai, or she liked me. I wasn't going to touch a girl owned by Asmodai, however. I was worried enough about using his girls as it was. In fact, when I went to the stables to ask about a carriage to take me to Heron Lake Square, the girl on duty informed me that she was picking up the master at six and wouldn't be able to bring me home.

I took a horse. I went to Jayeh's, and we fell over each other with impassioned kisses. Jayeh asked me again if I'd gotten a breakup notice from Cole.

"No," I said. "I'm not really expecting one."

Jayeh smiled wryly and pecked me on the cheek. "You're silly. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you're broken up too. Cole must have sent the messages while you were in the north country, and you weren't here to get it."

I was taken aback. "What makes you think that?"

"He's formally breaking up with all of his girlfriends. He's signing an exclusivity contract with Mistress Thyrah, the former earthly Duchess of Cumberland, Consort of Hanover, and Royal Consort of Denmark. All of her consorting annoys me since she's consorting with our Cole."

Since I was just an ignorant fledgling, Jayeh sat me down and explained something I'd never heard mention of—a succubus and incubus going exclusive, forming a sacred fuck-bond, as Jayeh described it—an official thing with a signed paper, enforceable by Hell's Court.

Almost all married incubi and succubi had sex outside of their marriage, but exclusivity was something different. It was a serious pre-nuptial courtship ritual among the more well-to-do of Hell's children. Everyone in Dis knew about the deal apparently, and Jayeh was certain that I'd simply missed my own severance notice.

I was a little upset. Jayeh and I hugged and fell on each other again. We launched into bed and offered each other extended mutual sympathy with our sex. We made love to an accompaniment of piano music played by Jayeh's slave boy, which muffled our sounds and offered the ever-present pretense that we were practicing music in her apartment and not illegal lesbianism.

When we'd both come for each other, we relaxed. Jayeh and I discussed Cole again. We bonded through our feelings of resentment towards Mistress Thyrah and her control over Cole. Cole's incubus seed was rich in both of our succubus souls, and I was surprised by the intensity of my hurt emotions, which Jayeh echoed. Cole's seed had put its deep hooks into both of us with an influence strong enough to drive us crazy.

We considered taking revenge on Cole—hitting back at him somehow, but our only practical idea was to make him jealous, and there we hit a dead end. He'd already wrung the best out of both of us. He'd made us stretch ourselves to the maximum to please him with our mouths, our sexes, and our wits, at levels both physical and emotional.

Jayeh and I brooded as we lay in bed together, warm skin against skin. We finally agreed that we wanted a good look at Thyrah. Jayeh said she'd ask Cole about any public appearances at parties. At the end of our time in her bed, Jayeh turned hopeful.

"We both know Cole. She won't keep him chained forever like a dog. After he marries her, he'll grow bored. The two of us can sneak back into his heart and steal him away from her."

"I hope so."

Jayeh shrugged and climbed out of bed. She called the slave boy to lace her corset. "It's sweet that Cole is going exclusive, but I think we'll see him again soon. His exclusivity contract won't even last, so maybe he won't even get married. He'll be back, and we'll be back with him. If not, I can find another guy as fast as the sun sets over the Mare."

"I think going back to Cole now would be ridiculous." I said the words, but I didn't mean them. I just didn't want Jayeh going back to Cole.

"Maybe you'd better go, Shar-si. You're getting snarky."

I climbed out of bed and got dressed. I asked Jayeh what the word _snarky_ meant, and Jayeh said it meant to complain grumpily. I agreed that I was snarky. On my way back to Beaujardin, I sent Cole a messenger bird. I wanted to know if I could see him one last time. My heart was queerly torn to shreds at the idea of never seeing him again.

In my first full day back in Dis, my love life had been trampled. Cole was abandoning me, Jayeh was talking about finding another guy, and Asmodai was molesting my personal collared property. At least Nissia could never leave me. That evening, I went to the pit and made Nissia's second daily cup of black tea. I didn't give it to her. I poured it into a bag with a nozzle. I pushed my legs through Nissia's cage bars, filled my cunt up with nectar tea, and commanded my slave girl to drink it from me.

After only a few seconds of coaxing, Nissia fell to her knees and greedily lapped and sucked to get every drop of the precious liquid back out of me. We floated together on intense spiraling pleasures. When I finally opened the door and pulled her out, I took her to the workshop table and fucked her. We were both nectar-drunk.

I was considering another cup of nectar when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Asmodai entered the pit. He said nothing to me, but I could feel the weight of his baleful yellow-eyed gaze. I quickly toweled myself and Nissia dry. I took Nissia to her cage while Asmodai was extracting a slave girl to play with. I slipped quickly out of the pit, even as the Master's devil eyes crawled over my backside. The Master's presence was intense, and so were his eyes.

## Chapter 33. The Little Lickers

A few days passed, and I orchestrated three or four more feverish, intense sexual episodes with Nissia, to the point where I was emotionally overwhelmed. I needed to step back and hold my slave at arm's length for a few days, and I could feel Nissia needed the same.

I started to read a few poetry books, but I was distracted. I received a messenger bird from Jayeh inviting me to go to a party in the German quarter, where we could see Cole with Mistress Thyrah. Cole had invited us both, and supposedly some of his other ex-lovers, to celebrate the official commencement of his exclusivity contract. Thyrah's former lovers would also be there to wish her well.

I should have been pleased, but instead my depression deepened. I'd never received a response from Cole to my messenger bird, but apparently Cole had taken the time to correspond with Jayeh. I felt a pointless enmity towards Jayeh the likes of which I hadn't ever felt. Life in Hell was intoxicating, but it wasn't all wine, roses, fun, and wonderful fucking. Even as the throes of lust carried me to new heights, hate and envy could topple my ivory tower just as easily.

I was angry with Cole, and I would have hated him if he hadn't been so nice to me for so long. I had to admit I was lonely at Beaujardin, despite the presence of Nissia. I actually missed Inannah giving me lectures and taking my shopping. Fubuki wasn't around either to chat in the bath or to take me to parties with the Disian high society.

One night, Master Asmodai showed up at Nissia's training time. He sat in the stuffed armchair in the corner of the parlour, completely unwelcome. It should be mentioned, dear reader, that Inannah's husband was devilishly handsome by Hell's Court standards, but by any human measure he was hideous. His skin was yellow-grey with burgundy blotches around his temples and on the backs of his hands. His hands terrified me because I'd seen for my own eyes what those hands could do to a woman under his control.

Asmodai's fingernails were blackened, and when he sat in the armchair in the corner of Inannah's office and watched me, he played with a long, polished wood cane with a bent brass handle that looked like a vulture's beak.

I finished the session quickly, and I took Nissia back down to her cage. When we arrived in the slave quarters, she said Asmodai had visited her again and spoken to her through her cage bars. I demanded to know what he'd said, but Nissia didn't remember.

The next morning when I went to mix Nissia's tea, I couldn't help myself. I fully succumbed to the lure of that lovely little nectar vault in the wall. I mixed a full cup of black nectar for myself and drank along with Nissia before taking her upstairs for her lesson.

I fed feverishly. I held Nissia's head between my legs, and made her lick and go delving with her agile Fey tongue for an hour. I forgot about my worries and cares, and I felt much better. I drifted through the following hours in a lingering tea-pleasure. I embraced the black in my belly. The black was my dark mistress coming back to life, gifting me and Nissia with her dark collar of addiction.

While I could argue and drift apart from Jayeh and Inannah, the black was always there for me. I only needed to drink her, and she would hold me, control me, and fuck me. Deep down, I always wanted her, and I never wanted her to leave me.

I seriously primped that night with Kveta's assistance. My party-prep regimen was extensive. I shaved my legs, armpits, upper lip, labia, and buttocks. I clipped, filed, and painted my nails into perfect half-moons. I plucked and waxed my eyebrows. I powdered, perfumed, and pressed my finest lingerie into service. I felt the need to compete with Jayeh for prettiness that night. I couldn't calculate whether I'd look better than Thyrah, but Cole's tastes ran high, so I figured my chances were low.

When I descended into the pit to say goodbye to Nissia, I was in my full glory with a black evening gown that hugged my silk-lined corset while leaving my high breasts and cleavage available for ravishment. The lower half of my gown was poufed with semi-transparent black chiffon to show off the spindles of my legs, which I considered, along with my rear end, to be my best features. The transparency of my gown silhouetted my black panties, which sported a black ribbon on my mons and slit crotch.

Those were my most expensive clothes from the best designers in Dis, and I knew they were beyond affordability for Jayeh. I was already fantasizing girlishly about seducing Cole away from Thyrah, getting his cock, and then bragging to Jayeh later. As I'd learned from Fubuki, half the fun of a difficult conquest was bragging after the fact.

I fixed Nissia her evening tea, and I made just a half cup for me. I drifted out of the house, heady in my tea-pleasure. My carriage was prepared and waiting, as I'd asked. The feather-plumed stable girl snapped her whip, and off we went.

I arrived around the nine at Jayeh's residence. She'd dressed in a more rustic style. She wore a short brown skirt with vertical stripes of grey. She'd matched that with a chocolate lady's waistcoat and agate earrings carved into the shapes of little feathers.

I sort of liked Jayeh's odd, interesting outfit. She said it was an inspiration from the Gypsies, who she admired for their poetry and music. Jayeh looked askance at me, and I looked askance at her. I could feel it—a rivalry was on, and the winner was the one who managed to bag Cole and ruin his life with Thyrah.

I ordered the stable girl to get the horses trotting north towards the German quarter. I told Jayeh she looked beautiful, but she looked like a lesbian. I might have been trying to undermine her self-confidence. I wanted to fuck her in the carriage seat, which was proof enough that she was alluring to other women.

Jayeh smiled and gave me a chary kiss on the cheek, as if feeling my hidden desire with her succubus senses. We passed the Gold Heron and rolled around Heron Lake Square in the light of the lamps that ran along the lakeside promenade. We pinched our noses. The seasonal wind in Dis was from the east, and Asmodai's slave girl had taken the carriage around the stinky side of the lake, which apparently everyone liked for a piss pot.

The Disian traffic was heavy downtown at the prime partying hour, and it took us nearly forty minutes to negotiate our way up to the German quarter, where the old, eroded stone façade buildings rose three stories on the streets with high gables and sandworn shutters. We finally found a place to park and made our way along the crowded narrow sidewalks to the Himbeerblume, where Jayeh and I were searched by two ogre guards with lusty little eyes. I rejected the paws of those oafs on my body, and I told them so. Where was I going to hide a weapon with my outfit?

Jayeh calmed me. She explained that it was normal for prenuptial-type parties to have patdowns of succubi, because it was common for jealous succubi to do irrational things. And so Jayeh and I passed inside, and we saw Cole. He sat in a room through an archway off the far left corner of the Himbeerblume common room. Jayeh and I stalked closer to examine Thyrah.

I had to admit that Thyrah was exquisite. She wore a long embroidered dress and an antique stomacher of a type worn only by elder mistresses who had lived in bygone eras. Thyrah was a petite young doll, however, not ancient at all. Her hair was rolled in the front with little twists under her tiara like the twists in a loaf of bread. I thought Thyrah looked too cute for Cole, but her moon-silver eyes gleamed with a cunning intelligence. She was clearly much more than her sweet, youthful appearance.

Cole and Thyrah were surrounded by Germans, and all of the Germans were sumptuously dressed. The beautiful German succubi seemed to cover their skin more with modest dresses and stockings. Cole waved at us and placed an order with a waiter, and soon Jayeh and I were sipping gifts from him—champagne glasses that brimmed with a bubbly pink house drink called Himbeer Meer.

I drank quickly, drowning myself in the diluted mix of alcohol, fruit, and red nectar, even while I stared at Cole where he was smiling at Thyrah's side. Like a little queen, she had her hand possessively on Cole's thigh. In her other hand, Thyrah held a cane that was similar to Asmodai's. I knew Asmodai didn't really need his cane. It was a weapon with a slender blade hidden inside. Was Thyrah packing a weapon to ward off Cole's former lovers? That didn't seem sporting after my mauling by the door guards.

The red nectar in the Himbeer Meer compounded with my black, jacking me up a little crazy. A pair of German incubi introduced themselves. Jayeh used her more capable brain to socialize one of them into a corner. I sent the waiter a messenger bird asking for another Himbeer Meer. He delivered it. I drank it. I was really jacked up then, floating off the floor in my high heels. I needed to pee, and on the advice of the German incubi I made it to the narrow back hall, where I ran smack into a hulk of an incubus with smooth inky black skin. His white teeth almost blinded me when he smiled. I vaguely recognized him.

"Why Shar-si," he drawled. He interposed himself in my toilet trajectory. "Where ya been, girl? Ya rememberin' Master Dredge?"

"Sort of. You're here to see Cole?" I let my eyes roam to the smooth expanse of Dredge's black chest. His shirt was unbuttoned, so I guessed he'd been fucking someone. I vaguely knew Dredge from the abyss of my diaries from over a year previously, when I'd been taking black nectar daily. I couldn't consciously remember what we'd done together, but my belly remembered. When Dredge's hand drifted down the skin of my bicep, the sensations made a connection in my sex.

"Ya, I'm here for Cole," Dredge answered. "Where's Fuki-si? She up da north country?"

I blinked vapidly until I realized he must have meant Fubuki. "Yes. She's with Mistress Inannah up in Apertura Arroyo. I'm here in Dis because I'm training my first slave. She's a Fey."

Dredge grinned. "Ya got one o' dem Seelie Court they be bringing in? Good on ya, girl. Reckon connections will get ya 'bout anywheres. Hey girl, speakin' o' that, you wanna play a bit? We's lookin' for a little plaything in the backroom maybe."

"Backroom?"

"I'm talkin' with Prince Rudolf, girl. Ya want some? Sure ya do. Come on, now. Ya here alone?" Dredge winked and clasped my arm as if to escort me.

"I'm sort of alone," I said. "I came with a female friend. I'm sorry Master Dredge, but I desperately need to pee. I had a couple of the drinks and another one before I left home."

Dredge caressed my forehead with his free hand. "Oh, ya hot girl. Ya still takin' that black ain't ya? Ya pretty dirty inside? Come on, girl. Let's see Prince Rudolf. We'll show ya a good time."

"Just let me—"

Dredge cleared his throat. "I ain't waitin' 'round for no fledgling in da hall. You comin', girl, or you ain't comin' t'all."

"Fine." I felt a little nervous as Dredge led me down the hall. I'd heard rumors of the decadence of Prince Rudolf of Austria. I'd realized I wasn't going anywhere near Cole that night, so a famous prince's cock seemed like a nice consolation prize. I was young and hot, after all, and I was too timid to rock the sophisticated German party boat. Any easy outlet for my nectar-fueled lust in that moment sounded inviting.

A private door at the end of the hall led into a room designed for VIP fucking. The décor was all in tones of black and grey, lit by a tarnished silver chandelier in the center of the ceiling. The room was similar to the back rooms of La Bougie, but ten times bigger and more extravagant.

A few armchairs and high-backed throne chairs nestled in the corners, and a few long divans with low backs lined the walls. The furniture wasn't leather or fabric—it was made of a hammered dark-gray metal. The metal looked like _plomb_ as Inannah called it, or lead, which formed some of the gutters of the homes in the hills of Beaujardin. The dark grey plomb furniture sat low on a polished marble floor. The air reeked of cigar smoke, and my nectar-sensitized eyes burned a little as I floated across the floor, escorted by Dredge.

Most of the chairs were occupied by the party-goers, of course, but none more so than the central divan, where a small crowd of German incubi had gathered around a bearded man in red trousers and a military-style red coat. A pudgy dark-haired girl sat beside the man. She wore a short black dress similar to mine with silver pins in her hair.

At first I thought Rudolf's girl was a succubus patapouf, but then I saw the glint of a black collar. She was just a well-dressed slave girl who was fed sweetcakes, sweetmeats, or other Hell-stuffs to plump her up. A white purse draped the girl's shoulder, and her fists knotted around white leather leashes attached to two little white dogs in her lap. The black silk collars of the lapdogs matched that of the slave girl.

Rudolf hailed Dredge and looked straight at me. "You've fetched us a plaything, my African friend?"

"Name's Shar-si," Dredge answered. "Little fledgling o' Ambassador Inannah, who's outta town up da north country."

Dredge floated me over by my arm. I winced a little bit. I was still spiking on the nectar, but that didn't assuage my deep urge to pee, which was only getting worse. The word _plaything_ sent a little thrill up the lengths of my legs. The prince stood up, and I was quickly surrounded by German incubi.

Dredge gave me a warm kiss on my cheek. He drifted away from the sea of German hands that were all over my tits and ass. I'd never felt such a thing, and I giggled. I was the epicenter of a whirlpool of male scents, breath, and flesh. Rudolf was front and center. He gave me a rough kiss on my lips. He went for my neck and inhaled my scent. His moustache tickled.

"You're pretty as a peach," Rudolf said. "I wonder if you're as sweet?"

"I sure am," I said boldly, because I was.

"We'll see." Rudolf's hand went under my short skirt and found my crotch. He rubbed me through my panties. Pleasure bloomed, and I reached for the bulge in his trousers. Rudolf's fingers slipped around my lace and found my folds. He grunted lustfully. "Marie, please?"

The plump slave girl pushed through the men. She went to her knees and put the end of the leather dog leash between her teeth. Rudolf pressed me hard with kisses on my lips, and I took his tongue, even as the slave girl's hands went under my skirt and pulled my panties down my legs. I dutifully stepped out of them.

I heard a bottle unstopper, and I felt the girl's hands return between my legs. Her little fingers were slippery with oil, and she rubbed up into my vulva and up between my buttocks, even while Rudolf and the German incubi kept pawing my entire body. I was in nectared Heaven—the center of attention. A dream flitted through my head of Cole walking in and seeing me there surrounded by those men. Of course, he'd be intensely envious.

Prince Rudolf unbuttoned his pants and helped my hand into them. He was a little brusque, as if I were an idiot for not having my hand in there already. I pulled his cock out and stroked it. Compared to Cole, Rudolf was hardly more than half a man in size, but he was enough to satisfy. Rudolf turned me around to take me, and the slave girl turned to suck the cock of another incubus.

Rudolf lifted my skirt, put his cock underneath, and nosed at my oil-slicked anus. I was floating in the red so much that I almost toppled over. Another incubus grabbed me, and Rudolf pushed in. The splinter of pain made me gasp, but my body responded with a flush of heat and desire. Rudolf began to thrust.

By the gods, I wanted to get filled up in that moment. The wave of red nectar bloomed in my overwrought body. I wanted to be filled everywhere, not just where Rudolf had put his cock. My eyes whirled to Dredge's bulge. I wanted all of those cocks and fingers. I wanted the leg of the nearby chair. I wanted Dredge to fuck my front, but he drifted away, and Rudolf wrapped my body, embracing me from behind like a bear. He pulled me down to the black marble floor—straight down without breaking the connection between us.

"Down little kitty," Rudolf commanded. He pushed deeper when I settled onto his lap. He lay prone underneath me, and he pulled me down to sit on him. I bounced a little, threw back my head, and gazed up at the glowy rings of light formed by the silver chandelier above me. Rudolf's hand grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. He cock was deep inside me in our position, and when I bent backwards onto his chest, my front side and sex were totally exposed.

"Marie." Rudolf's voice was loud in my ear. "The licker, please."

The slave girl broke away from her incubus. The leather leashes jingled, and I felt tickles. I looked down to see the two little furry dogs wriggling between my legs. The slave girl's fingers pried on my thighs to help the dogs get better access. The rough flicking tongues sent spasms shooting like lightning through my sex. My clit went white-hot. The little dogs were licking me like mad, and Rudolf was moaning too, thrusting hard up into my ass.

I felt like my soul was twitching with every lick of those two little dogs, and soon I came in great heaves—not very hard but kind of painfully, and it was at least three or four seconds before I realized I was peeing. I squirted all over the dogs, and it was some seconds before I could clamp down my trembling inner muscles. Meanwhile, Rudolf had come inside my anus, and he dumped me off onto the floor.

"Sie pinkelte, Meister Rudolf," the slave girl exclaimed. Her cute fat face was a mask of scandal. Her head bobbed to sniff the perfect fur of her over-excited dogs. Rudolf snapped his fingers, and the slave girl went quickly to clean his cock with her mouth.

Meanwhile, a few of the other incubi had claimed me with their big hands, apparently intent on seconds and uncaring about the puddle on the floor. Dredge shouldered his way through and wrestled me away from the rest. He pulled me back out of the room, down the hall, and into the ladies' toilet. Dredge went in with me, ignoring the looks of two other succubi in there.

"Uptight rich fuckers got piss all over dey dogs and dey floor!" Dredge burst out belly-laughing. He wiped tears from his dark cheeks, and he supported his mirth with his hand on my shoulder. "Haha! Ya done good, girl! Ya done good!"

I finally settled myself on the toilet. I took a deep breath and relaxed my abdomen so I could expel the rest. I didn't care if Dredge watched me. I was still floating halfway to the ceiling on my nectar.

"You liked that, Master Dredge?" I asked.

Dredge belly-laughed again. "Shit, I gots a story to tell Timothy. Almost makes it worth da trip down 'ere to Dis."

Jayeh burst in then. She bumped into Dredge and looked down at me. Relief played on her face. "Oh good, you're in here, Shar-si."

I arched my eyebrow. "Where else would I be?"

Jayeh shrugged and tugged the rim of her corset to adjust her dis-arranged nipple. "Cole disappeared the same time you did. I just wanted to make sure you weren't with him. I mean—it would be horrible for Cole to break his exclusivity so soon."

"He was in 'dere wit us for a minute," Dredge said, gesturing over his shoulder at the hallway. "In da back room, watchin' Shar-si wit the Prince."

"Good," I said. I blushed then, which I hadn't done in a while. Jayeh hadn't met Dredge, so I introduced her. Jayeh, Dredge, and I chatted for a while in the lady's toilet while other succubi came and went. Eventually Dredge had suffered enough disapproval and racist remarks from the prissy German women, and he said his goodbyes to us. I gave him a hug and told him I'd enjoyed seeing him, and I hoped I'd see him again soon.

Jayeh and I freshened ourselves and went back out to the main room. After more flirting and chatting with German incubi for a few hours, during which Cole spent most of his time at Thyrah's side, I went with Jayeh to the alley for an unmemorable fuck with an incubus. Later we went back to Jayeh's place, where we fucked each other. I wanted to sleep with her, but she wanted me to leave in the middle of the night. She didn't want the neighbors to see me leaving in the morning.

I argued with her and made a little scene. I demanded to know if she loved me. I raised my voice so the neighbors would hear us, which made her wide-eyed furious. She shoved me out and shut the door in my face. My diary was sketchy because I got home late and upset. I didn't record anything in my diary that night, and the events of the next morning would overshadow Cole's party in my mind.

## Chapter 34. A Letter To A Love

It was a drudgery for me to make a fire twice a day to heat Nissia's tea. We had a stack of tar-swabbed kindling that caught flame quickly, but the stuff dirtied my fingers and got under my nails. This menial task made me appreciate the fact that we had slaves to do these things. I didn't make Kveta do it for me, however, because I was afraid of what Asmodai might say if I caused his slave girl to get nasty black tar all over herself.

The morning after Cole's party, I lit the fire, placed the matches on the workbench, and slid the teapot onto the rack that would hold it in the little stove. I double-checked that the flue was open. I went to Nissia's cage, where she lay curled on her bed. Her eyes were wild and sullen when she looked at me.

"What's wrong, darling," I said, hardly paying attention. I was sleepy and low-strung. "The tea will make us feel better."

Nissia rose and crossed her cell to the bars. "He took me last night," she whispered as a tear tumbled down her cheek. "Master Asmodai came into my cage."

I blinked. "He took you? How?"

Nissia looked around at the other cells, where a few of Asmodai's slave girls stirred and pricked their ears. Nissia bent closer to the cage bars and lowered her voice. "Asmodai took that long wand from the wall over there, and he kept poking me with it. He threatened to do things to me unless I didn't come to the bars and give him my hind end. He poked me and poked me, and I was crying. There was nowhere in the cage to escape, and I was in pain, so I finally gave myself to him. He tied my thighs to the bars, and he hit me with a strap while fucking me. He told me I shouldn't have hesitated. His cock. Oh gods, his cock."

Nissia sobbed and showed me her backside. I could see the ugly red weals. I'd slept late, and I was tired, but my anger snapped me awake. "This is unacceptable. How long was he here?"

Nissia sniffed. Tears were streaming down her pinked cheeks. "You're not even going to do anything, are you? Well, I'm no human. I'm a Seelie Court princess. I've drunk pure water from the springs of Elysium. I've touched the stars with my mind in the Blessed Isles in the moonlight. I wasn't supposed to be a slave. I wasn't supposed to take a devil cock up my ass."

"I don't think you're an animal," I said. "I think you're a beautiful Fey, and I'm so lucky to have you. I'll try to do something about Master Asmodai. It's wrong to fuck someone else's slaves while they're away."

"You'll try?" A twisted smile flickered on Nissia's face before fading. "My people are more civilized. We have a rule—hands off of each other's humans. When will your mistress come back? It was better with her here. Her husband is so loathsome. If he touches me again, I hope I just die."

"I hate him too," I said in a sympathetic voice. "I've always hated him, and now that he fucked you, I wish I could kill him. I need to do something about this, but I don't know what to do."

"He likes our hate," Nissia said, hugging herself. "He likes to make me feel these dark things when he's away. I don't want that in me. I don't want his seed in me. I wish I could bathe."

I licked my lips and nodded, but I didn't know what else to say. I went back to the work area and checked the water in the stove. Asmodai's rape of my slave was infuriating. I felt like I myself had been violated. I fantasized about killing Asmodai.

As I poured the heated water over the aromatic black powders—one cup for Nissia and a half for myself—I decided that I simply couldn't confront Asmodai about the issue. I didn't want to say anything to him. Inannah was supposedly coming in about a week, and I could trust her to deal correctly with her husband if anything could be done.

Nissia and I drank our tea and went into the black together, and then I unlocked her cage and took her upstairs with me. I didn't take her to the office, however—I took her to my bedchamber.

There was only one solution to protect my slave. From then on, Nissia would sleep in my room with me, and she would go out into the city with me. It wasn't uncommon for succubi and incubi to take pretty slaves out and about to serve as porters and hand servants. An uncommonly beautiful slave was almost a fashion accessory, a symbol of wealth that earned respect.

Nissia was supposed to be dangerous, but I reasoned that it was only for a week, and Nissia was very sweet. What could she do to me? I was wary of her quickness and her invisibility spell, but we'd determined that she couldn't leave, and I simply didn't believe she would hurt me, especially if I was protecting her. I'd keep my sword by my bed, and Asmodai would have come through me to get Nissia again.

Envy and hurt over Cole had brought Jayeh and me closer together, and from that moment on, a shared hate for Asmodai made me feel closer to Nissia. Nissia was dependent on me. She needed me, while Jayeh clearly didn't.

I showered Nissia with attention and love that afternoon. I gave her a few new books to read, and I had Kveta draw us a hot bath with lavender salts. I took Nissia into the bath with me. I washed her and massaged her, and she returned the favor. She reveled in the water—something that I took for granted on a daily basis. She missed the open sea, and when the bath water grew cool, she didn't want to leave. She didn't want me to shave her sex either, so I acquiesced and let her keep her brown belly-fuzz.

We dried off and went to my room, where I decided to dress Nissia. It seemed silly for her stay nude while I was fully dressed. Nissia was a bit taller and willowier than me, but some of my clothes fit her. I took her to my vanity and brushed her hair. She asked to use my brushes and powders, and I let her.

I left her alone for a few minutes when I went to borrow Fubuki's vanity chair. I dragged the chair into my bedchamber and pulled it up next to Nissia, and we sat side by side and painted our faces.

Nissia tried to tell me stories of her homeland—of her life and loves in the Seelie Court. She couldn't remember half of the names and places, and her improved mood regressed quickly again into darkness and tears. I finally embraced her close and tight so she'd be quiet, even as the soporific effect of the morning tea began to dissipate from both of us, leaving the stark bony structure of reality.

My slave smelled so good. Under the lavender and perfume on her skin, the smell of leaves and sea came through at some deeper sense-level. I could _feel_ her with my succubus senses whenever I pressed against her. It wasn't clear who kissed the other first. I had my nose in her hair, and her chin was on my shoulder, and then we turned into each other, and we kissed with our lips and tongues, tasting each other's lip paint.

I pressed Nissia into my bed, but I didn't take her. We only caressed and kissed, healing each other. We lay together for an hour or two until dusk settled over Dis, and a knock came to my door, and I answered it. Kveta carried a message in an envelope. I took it back to my bed.

"What does it say?" Nissia said when I opened it. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was in shock. I told her.

"I have an incubus boyfriend. His name is Master Cole. I thought he broke up with me, but he says he didn't. This letter says that he was hoping the social circles of Dis would forget about me, since I was only an occasional and little-known partner of his, and since I was supposed to be in the north country anyway. He was touched by the messenger bird that I sent to him, and he wants to see me secretly as long as I swear an oath not to let anyone find out, especially Thyrah and Jayeh."

"Will you see him, then?" Nissia said softly.

"I think I will. He wants to set up a place and time where we can meet. I do love him. I've been seeing him for a few years, and he's a wonderful lover that makes me feel good about myself." The floodgates of my emotions came crashing open for no apparent reason, and it was my turn to cry.

"What's wrong?" Nissia said.

I was a sniffling, cheek-wiping little fool in that moment. "What I really need, so deeply and more than anything, is just this, what we've been doing. Us together, a friendship between two women."

Nissia nodded. "Maybe you should make love to me as yourself, not as my owner."

I dropped the letter on the floor and leaned into her, seeking her lips with mine, and we kissed, and this time we kissed with heat and passion, and soon we were yanking fabric to get our clothes off of our bodies again. I don't know how we kept the balance of dominance and submission, but it was her brilliance in the bed that surely did it.

After an hour or more of foreplay, Nissia finally fingered me, and I was in paradise. It seemed more real and physical without my head running fresh and hot on nectar. Nissia plunged right into me with her long fingers—long strokes, two then three, and that did it, along with her lickings of my clit, and she made me come in a different way than Jayeh. Nissia slid up my body and laid her length on me. We made love with our feet—running our legs against each other and rubbing our toes together. With our soft breasts pressed together, we gazed into each other's eyes.

We lay for a while and caressed each other until I finally reached low, scratched Nissia's mons, and touched her sex. Her eyes scrunched with seeming discomfort, but I was persistent. I tried to be real when I touched her, not a succubus—just myself. I tried to let her feel my effort. She wouldn't come, so I climbed on top of her and dominated her, asserting my succubus will. I fingered her, bumping her clit with every stroke.

Nissia grabbed my wrist hard, but she didn't tell me to stop. I grabbed her hair. She hit my chest and clutched my shoulder as her fever increased. Tears formed in her eyes, and the tears were echoed in my own, and I kept going and going until I finally made her come, and at the last second I couldn't help myself. I thrust for the kiss, and she twisted her head away to keep me from drinking. I seized her chin and insisted. I suctioned away her beautiful sweet love like the succubus I was, pulling her mystical energy up through her body.

I collapsed on top of her. We were both sweaty, and the room was growing dark. Outside my bedchamber window, through the elegant damask curtains, a ruddy sunset was falling over the capital of Hell.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I couldn't help myself."

"It's fine," she whispered. She kissed my cheek, and I breathed her minty, leafy breath. "I love you."

"I love you too," I said, but I was confused. I knew Inannah would disapprove, and the thought of Inannah grounded me. I drew away from Nissia. I said I needed to write in my diary. I wanted her to lie and be quiet.

I felt like an island in that moment, and Inannah was my rock. I wrote that my succubus senses were deluding me. I was obsessed with pleasure and lust, and I needed to get a grip on myself. I wasn't sure if Nissia was my friend, much less my lover. Still, I didn't want her to leave my bed. I wanted to protect her from Asmodai.

## Chapter 35. A Ring And Things

"What do you want from me? I thought Thyrah was enough for you." I looked into Cole's eyes. I wasn't trying to sound snarky, but I'd ridden for two hours to find the rendezvous in the dark Tartarus forest. I'd gone to all of that effort despite the fact that Cole's house was hardly a fifteen minute ride from Asmodai's home on the south side.

Cole looked off through the blackened, twisted oaks. I didn't want to be an ingrate, but I felt a little thrill that I'd made him genuinely uncomfortable. He deserved it. He'd made me saddle a horse, strap on my sword, put on my riding clothes, and escort Nissia all the way outside of Dis to a place where Cole liked to ride and go hunting.

He was familiar the forest that stretched from the east gates of Dis over a number of leagues to the Malebolge mines. I wasn't. I considered it silly that we couldn't meet in the city, but I'd gone to all that the trouble for him anyway. My desire for him was undeniable. Cole leaned and gave me a pacifying kiss.

"Thyrah is a remarkable woman," he finally said. "She seems sweet, but inside she has the heart of Circe and the intellect of Socrates. Still, I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you again. I've been thinking about you since our last meeting. I thought you'd be up north this winter where I could see you discretely. I was planning to fly up some weekend and oversee some repairs on my château."

I kicked my snarkiness up a notch. "So you just started your exclusivity contract, and you're already scheming to break it. That's nice. Jayeh was right."

Cole sighed. "I'm glad your Fey slave came back. How is she?"

I looked across the glade at Nissia. She'd pleaded with me to take her to the forest and not to leave her alone. I'd agreed. I'd made her promise to not run away. I'd made her swear a solemn oath to Lady Lilith, just like Cole had made me swear to keep silent about our secret rendezvous that afternoon.

"She's sad about her situation, but she's fine. I love her. I mean, I love how she serves me." My heart thumped, as if I were embarrassed to confide that I'd indulged in tons of girl-fucking recently. Nissia had lived and slept in my bedchamber for the previous five days and four nights. I assumed Asmodai knew, and the Mistress was due home soon. My intimate arrangements with Nissia were surely doomed, and the only uncertainty was the painfulness of my punishment.

Inannah would set everything straight, and thereby I hoped to be removed from responsibility. I planned to assert my dominance again over Nissia, while at the same time being nice. I planned to justify my cruelty, if Nissia wanted to call it that, with the command of the Mistress. Despite Nissia's oath to not run away, I'd handcuffed her to a horse harness anyway. If she disappeared for any reason, I would have no reasonable excuse.

"You sound nervous, Shar-si." Cole hefted his gunne and looked over his shoulder again, as if scanning the forest gloom for ghosts, goblins, and wandering Germans. "If we do this, no harm will come to you. Is that what you're worried about?"

"Mistress Thyrah does make me nervous. I was nervous when the Germans searched me for weapons before I could enter the Himbeerblume club."

"Thyrah looks young, but she's a powerful succubus. She has lots of enemies, including some that involve her Earth nationality and position. Some things she did during her Earth lives have carried over into this one. Such is the lot when you're involved in politics. A lot of succubi are jealous of her, and a lot of incubi either want to be her lovers or kill her for ruining them."

"And one of them happens to be my incubus, the one I love to fuck."

Cole smiled. "You make the word fuck sound beautiful, Shar-si. No songbird can sing her fucking so sweetly, either."

Cole leaned and kissed me, and I responded instantly. I was such a sucker for his flattery, and within a few minutes my dress was off, and I was fucking Cole on the ground in the dark and leafy forest. Cole was heavy, and twigs and rocks poked and jabbed my buttocks. When we finished, I was filled and glowing so happily with a warm helping of Cole's seed.

We got dressed, and Cole asked me about Jayeh. I told him that I hadn't seen her in four or five days. He made me promise again not to tell her anything. Cole asked me if I could meet him again at the same time and place the following week. He would bring some poetry to read. I agreed.

Finally, he asked if I'd be willing to share Nissia with him. He'd never so much as touched an exotic Fey. I said no. Nissia would probably be back in her cage the following week because Inannah was coming home. He questioned me about the situation, but I was reticent, and he let me and Nissia leave. He said we should all go separately like we came, but he'd follow behind us with his gun to keep us safe.

I wondered why Cole had let me go unescorted in the first place if the forest was dangerous, but I didn't say anything. Nissia and I rode back to the city gates and passed through behind a merchant caravan. Once inside the east gate, we wended our way into the dirty and crowded market district, where I stopped at the metalsmith's shop. Nissia's new silver collar had scratches of unknown origin.

I left the collar with Master Degas, and I sent a bird to Jayeh. I wanted a polished wooden phallus like Jayeh owned, along with a leather strap for my waist. I told Nissia my desires, and she was resistant. I said we could at least try. Jayeh sent me a return bird and told me where to go. She warned me that the strap-on phallus was for the anuses of boy-slaves, of course, not for lesbians. So I was burning with nervousness when I went into the shop with Nissia.

Nissia turned heads everywhere with her exotic Fey beauty, and even more so in the toy shop. I told the demon proprietor that I wanted a phallus for a fictional slave boy, and the shop owner obliged me. I purchased a whore-sized phallus and a harness. I was secretly proud of myself for being a self-confident, sneaky succubus.

"You've bought something that pleases you," Nissia said as we untethered the horses. "Now what about me?"

"Are you still unhappy that I cuffed you?"

"I didn't say that," Nissia answered. "I just want a gift that proves that you love me like you say, because when you act so much like a succubus, I have trouble believing you."

I shrugged. "I do love you. How should I prove it? A slave isn't supposed to own things, that I know of."

"Slaves in this city wear jewelry. I could wear jewelry like I used to. I know I'll be going back to my cage when Mistress Inannah comes home. I could wear something that you gave me, so I can think of you while you're away. I was thinking of a ring."

I hunted for a ring for my Fey slave. I still had some of Inannah's coins, and I knew that if I didn't spend them, she might ask for them back. Nissia suggested that Gypsy merchants might have something Fey-like in style. I countered that she should wear something of my own style, not hers, if she wanted to think of me.

We found nothing we both liked in the common market, so Nissia and I finally went back to the metalsmith, Master Degas, and I used my young succubus charm. I begged him to make me a simple ring on the spot using my leaf design from Nissia's brand. We wanted a Fey-style braided ring with a little leaf. Degas said he liked a challenge, and he dropped his normal schedule to handle the special request of Ambassador Inannah's fledgling. I spent the last of my coins on the beautiful custom ring for Nissia.

Nissia and I got back on the horses together and rode home. Nissia drew the eyes of people in the street all the way, just as she'd done all day. We got back to my bedchamber, and I ordered Kveta to draw a bath for us to wash the stink of the city from our skin.

I watched Nissia undress. I was so lucky. I hadn't fully realized how lucky I was to have a slave who was so beautiful and rare. Everyone who saw Nissia was intrigued and fascinated by a collared Fey, including Master Asmodai, apparently. I was still furious with him. Nissia and I undressed, but the bath wasn't ready yet, so we went downstairs and out to the rear garden pool around dusk.

The water was cool and smelled of sulfur. The pool had been ill-maintained by Asmodai's slave girls, but we went swimming anyway. After a while, we went back up to the bath, where I lit a stick of incense and a few candles on the marble surround, and my slave and I bathed in the candlelight, into the evening. At that point I felt the need to feed again, so I brought a boy up to my bedchamber, and Nissia and I had another adventure together.

The day had been beautiful and perfect. As I lay awake that night, I looked at Nissia while she slept. She lay breathing quietly next to me. The ring on her finger caught the moonlight that came through my bedchamber window. The light of the moon on Nissia seemed magical, as if it were shining solely for her. I was suddenly smitten again, returning full circle to my weak, watery feelings. I'd never in my life spent an entire day with a man like that—riding, shopping, swimming, bathing, and making love. Sadly, I knew the perfect moment couldn't last.

Perhaps the Fates had given me a premonition, because early the next morning a knock sounded on my bedchamber door, and I roused myself from slumber to see Master Asmodai. He gripped his cane in his hand. He was dressed for the Court with fine black trousers, silver-toed shoes, and a black waistcoat with a folded red kerchief. A cold glare was etched on his putrid face.

"That's enough. There will be no more illegal lesbianism in my house. Nissia will come with me."

I could feel Nissia shrink in fear next to me on the bed. She hid under the covers. I sat up and interposed myself. "No. We'll wait until Inannah comes home. You just want to have your way with my slave."

"Lesbian nonsense," Asmodai muttered. I held my ground and sheltered Nissia from him, even though Asmodai was a powerful devil. I'd seen the horrible things he did to Inannah. I was afraid of the things he might do to me too.

"You fucked her at least a couple times," I accused. "You raped her in her cell. You disgust me. Just go away. Leave us alone."

Asmodai snorted, strode across the room, reached over me, and grabbed Nissia's wrist. I felt a cold chill run through my bones just from the Master's proximity. He yanked Nissia up from my bed like a doll, dragged her upright, and corralled her with his arms. I climbed from the bed and reached for my sword. I could have tried to wrestle with Asmodai, but my spine shivered at the mere thought of touching his skin. I pulled my sword from its sheath.

"Let her go!" My voice quavered. Asmodai ignored me. Nissia had allowed herself to be cowed, and Asmodai escorted her out. In the shadow of the hall, Asmodai turned to look over his shoulder at me.

"I spoke with your Mistress via the dream-world last night, Shar-si. She isn't pleased with what you've been doing. Her instructions are that Nissia will remain in her cage at all times until she returns. She will be home one week from today."

Nissia looked at me as Asmodai hauled her away. Her face was a mask of terror and streaked with tears. I felt a sob welling up within myself in sympathy. I threw on my bathrobe, took up my sword, grabbed Nissia's cage key, and I went after Asmodai. I caught up with him and Nissia in the pit, where I watched him drag my slave back into her cage.

Asmodai thrust his hips and humped Nissia's rear end a few times, pressing her against the bars and whispering in her ear. He smiled sideways at me, as if mocking me, then he slapped Nissia's ass as he broke away from her. He locked her cell door with keys from his pocket. I gripped my sword tightly in my hand. I wanted to kill him.

"Fix her some tea," Asmodai commanded. I thought he planned to watch me, and I planned to disobey, but he left the pit, and his footsteps echoed away.

As I watched Nissia sobbing in her cage, some tea actually sounded like a nice idea. I started the fire and brooded in the workshop until the water was ready. I made a full cup for both of us, and I went into Nissia's cage and drank with her. After a while, we both used her chamber pot, and I took it to the sewer hatch and emptied it. I went back to my bedchamber and got a few books, along with my bouzouki. I decided that if Nissia couldn't come to my bed, then I would go to hers.

Yes, dear reader, I slept in Nissia's cell that night with my sword at hand. I was a rebel, and I wasn't going to leave her alone. I was afraid, but not nearly as afraid as Nissia. I prayed that when Inannah heard my story of how her husband was fucking my slave girl without my permission, my failures as a succubus would be justified.

Nissia was deeply grateful for the fact that I cared so much about her. She tried again to tell me stories to entertain me—tales of her own people and faraway places and things. When she couldn't remember, she just invented something. She told me the tale of a boggart, which was a foul and ugly Fey creature of the Unseelie Court. The boggart loved a princess who was too good for him. When Nissia grew tired telling stories, I took over and recited poetry from a book that Jayeh had loaned me.

Asmodai's slaves in the surrounding cells edged close to their bars and listened to us, and a few even asked for more when a particular tale would end. Over the next days, Nissia and I became performers for the girls in the female slave section in the pit. The boys were interested too, but their cages were on the other side of the room, and they couldn't hear what we were saying.

The female slaves were so happy to have entertainment that Nissia and I even scheduled a late session when the stable girls came to bed, and Kveta came down too from her many daily chores so she could enjoy poetry and Fey stories. Sometimes Asmodai came down to the pit to take away a girl to serve him, but we all pretended he didn't exist. We didn't even look at him.

I exchanged a few birds with Jayeh during this time, but I didn't see her. Jayeh implied that she'd met a few new incubi to occupy her time. And so a week passed slowly, and Inannah's return approached, but not before I was to meet Cole again in the forest.

Nissia begged and pleaded with me not to leave her alone. Such was her anguish that I finally agreed to once again disobey orders and take her from her cage. She was happy. Asmodai was at work in Hell's Court.

I saddled the horses late that morning, and we rode out for another wonderful day. Nissia beamed when she went outside and looked up at the Tartarus sky. She held up her arms and greeted Dawn's chariot with a language I didn't understand.

We rode through the crowded city at the noon hour, and I hungered as a succubus. I could hardly wait to see Cole. I wanted his strong arms around me. I wanted his masculine kisses on my lips. I needed his sweet incubus seed. I hoped he'd go twice.

Of course, none of those things would happen. Nissia and I were too carefree and defiant against the rule of suffering and cruelty. Happiness plucked the wrong chord in Tartarus. We had grown imaginary wings, and the Fates saw fit to make sure they were snipped.

## Chapter 36. Borrowing Cupid's Wings

Nissia and I rode across the city without incident, but when we reached the gates of Dis, the guards held up their hands and asked us to wait in the shadow of the archway. In the previous week, the guards had let Nissia and I trot past both ways under the massive gate portcullis with all of the rest of the traffic coming through the worn rutted road that passed under the Disian east gate.

The road was the main road that led through the Tartarus forests up to the Erebus plains and Caina. Lines of travelers were passing slowly in both directions. The men grabbed our bridles to make sure we couldn't escape.

"State your name and your business," the captain said. The guard captain was a burly incubus wearing armor emblazoned with the fiery fist of Hell's army.

"I'm fledgling Shar-si," I said. "This is my slave, Nissia. We were going for a ride in the forest."

"A ride?" The incubus looked skeptical. "You look well-to-do, fledgling. Who is your mistress then?"

"Ambassador Inannah," I answered with a hint of arrogance. "My Mistress won't be pleased that you're delaying me."

The guard's lips arched into a cruel sneer. "You're detained for questioning."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe what was happening. The guards guided Nissia and me around the corner of the gate tower and into a closed side plaza. The plaza was like a corral with a guard house, a row of hitching posts, and a few broken down caravan wagons.

"This is a big mistake," I said as I dismounted. "You can't detain us for no reason."

"I saw you go through last week," the guard captain said. "I remember you and your friend. A lot of lesbians go to fuck in the forest. It's my job to watch for them. If nothing else, a traveling Fey is suspicious these days."

"Nissia isn't suspicious. She's a slave wearing my own clothes. Her collar is at the shop being repaired. I was going to pick it up this afternoon. You can check her backside for my brand." I felt tears coming to my eyes, which only implicated me further. I was completely surprised. Until that day, the illegality of lesbianism under the laws of Lord Hades had been mostly an abstraction to me. I hadn't respected Jayeh's worries. I felt sheltered and untouchable as Inannah's fledgling.

"Why are you really going into the forest?" the guard captain said.

My words caught in my throat. I couldn't tell the guard that I was going out for a secret rendezvous with Master Cole. The guard was just an army grunt, as Mistress Inannah called them, so he'd probably never heard of Cole or his exclusivity contract with Mistress Thyrah. Still, I'd sworn an oath to Cole to not reveal what I was doing with him.

I tried to think of a better story—something involving Nissia and the fact that she loved forests, when I realized the guard wasn't even looking at me. He was watching the other guards, who dragged Nissia off her horse and escorted her towards the guard house door. Nissia looked over shoulder. Her face was frozen with fear. A guard had his hand on her ass. A flush of anger went through me.

"Stop that! That's my slave!" I started to move forward, but the guard captain grabbed my arm.

"You're staying right here. We're interrogating that Fey."

"You're a bastard," I said.

"Really?" The guard captain turned on me. "I could put in prison, my sweet. There's a devil from Hell's Court here, and he'd be happy to clap chains on a pretty thing like you. He doesn't give a rat's turd who your mistress is, and you're probably lying anyway."

"Nissia is my slave. She's a Fey princess. You can check her papers at Hell's Court. She's registered under my name."

"We'll check her out. Of course, that will take some hours." The guard smirked. "You might as well tether up your horse and have a seat over there."

The guard captain pointed at the end of the hitching posts, where a couple of dirty wood benches waited. I seethed as the men dragged Nissia into the building. I ran my fingers over my sword hilt as I led my horse to the hitching posts. When the door to the guard house closed, I heard Nissia cry out inside. I gauged my chances of grabbing my blade from its sheath, plunging it into the guard captain, and staging a daring rescue of Nissia. I did nothing.

Screams of men came next from inside the guard house, however. The captain sighed and strode towards the door, apparently satisfied that I was done protesting. The captain had just reached the door when it flew open to reveal Nissia. Her dress was covered with blood, and she carried a blade in her hand that dripped red ichor. She darted forward just as quickly as I'd seen her dart once before. She plunged the bloody blade into the stomach of the guard captain, who doubled over with a grunt.

"Hurry," Nissia cried as she ran towards me. I couldn't believe my eyes. Two wounded guards stumbled out of the guard house behind Nissia, followed by a black-robed Hell's Court devil with a whip in his hand. Nissia leapt into her saddle, and I leapt into mine. I followed Nissia at a gallop. We rode hard out of the gate past the caravaners, Gypsies, and the remaining guards, who half-raised their crossbows but didn't fire at the two pretty girls riding by.

Nissia and I rode fast away from the city walls into the forest. I followed Nissia. She continued doggedly, navigating twisty forest tracks parallel to the well-traveled road leading south, away from the track to Cole's location. I knew Nissia had been in the forest before, so I trusted her. We went on and on for what seemed like an hour before Nissia finally slowed her horse to a walk though the dappled sunlight under the twisted tree branches. Our horses were panting and lathered.

Nissia gazed at the twisted black tree canopies. Her eyes were pained and far away. Her dress was covered with blood. "They will be coming for us. We need to watch the sky too."

"What happened back there? Did you kill any of those men? The Mistress said you were dangerous, but I never thought you were capable of doing such a thing."

"I didn't know what I was capable of until I was made into a slave." Nissia avoided my eyes. "I admit that I snapped back there. I was looking forward to getting out into the forests. I couldn't let them stop us."

"What do you think you're doing?" I said. "You can't leave Dis. You'll have to go back. You'll have to be punished. They might take you away from me, and who know what might happen to you."

"Maybe not. Do you really love me?" Nissia's golden-green eyes were bright with hope, sadness, and pain. My heart melted, and I took a deep breath.

"Yes," I said. "I think I loved you from the first time I saw you, in a way. I wish we could be equals, you and I. I wish we could be real lovers. We just can't. You have slave papers. You're in bondage for all eternity. A real love between us is impossible."

"If I could escape, I'd no longer be a slave."

"You can't escape. The devils have a curse on you. You know that. You tried last time, and you had to come back. You can't leave the forest. I don't have the power to counter such magic, and neither do you."

Nissia's face paled, and her brows furrowed. "Maybe you do have the power, Shar-si. The black nectar has been stealing my memories away from me, but I remember this thing—a devil curse can be broken by true love. For a while, I hoped I could find Luma. You promised to help me find her, but you didn't."

"I kind of forgot."

"So my hope went to you, Shar-si." Nissia's lips grimaced into a smile. "I hope your succubus love is enough, or else I might have to kill myself. They'll surely put me to death anyway for what I've done. So I ask you again. Do you love me? Because if you truly do, then that love can be possible. We can be together in our hearts, but only if we are apart."

I blinked. I wiped sudden tears from my eyes. "I do love you. I'm much less lonely when I'm with you. You're not like anyone else. I don't want you to go, but I understand how much you're suffering. I don't want that. What do you want me to do?"

"Ride alongside me for the rest of the day. Think of your love for me the entire way. We have to try. Please, Shar-si."

"I'll help you. Let's keep going." I took another deep breath. I could only imagine how much trouble I was in.

"I'll cast a spell to help hide us." Nissia murmured words of Fey magic, and I felt a tingle come over me as she waved her hand. After a minute she seemed satisfied. Nissia looked deeply into my eyes. "Remember your love for me in every second that passes from now until we reach Erebus."

Nissia kicked her horse into motion, and I followed. We left the forest tracks and re-joined the main road. The road sloped up to higher country to the south, ever upwards away from the valley of Dis. We passed other travelers, but no one paid us any mind. I knew almost nothing of horse breeding, but I knew the horses of Asmodai and Inannah were the highest possible quality. I dared to hope that no one would catch up to us.

I struggled so much during the many hours of that long, epic ride, dear reader. I struggled with my love for Nissia, which was just as selfish as it was altruistic. I was waging a war within myself. I was a succubus. I was a creature of profound sexual needs, and Nissia was my slave, destined to serve me.

Part of me wanted to deny her. Part of me wanted to quietly sever my love from her and see the curse fulfill its work. Part of me wanted to stop Nissia cold in her tracks, so she'd give up her hope forever of leaving me. I reminded myself of Nissia's suffering at the hands of Master Asmodai. I thought of the beauty of Nissia's homeland and her people, which she had showed me in her many stories. I knew how she missed her home, a beautiful place apparently free from rape and abuse.

Most of all, I was worried about Nissia's punishment for such a bloody massacre. A Court devil had witnessed it personally, so I could probably assume the worst. If the Hell's Court devils didn't simply execute Nissia, they would surely torture her. They would sentence her to a cell in the Bolgia pits. She'd become a pretty plaything of the devils, and I'd never see her again. My love for Nissia overwhelmed all selfishness, and I tried to keep that warmth flowing through my soul.

We rode for hours as fast as our horses would carry us. We rested once where the road topped a series of steep cliffs. We watched the grand pink sunset that evening over Tartarus. Nissia kissed me long and deeply there in that beautiful light among the trees of the Erebus rim country. The air was less polluted away from the capital and the Malebolge mine pits. We rode farther into the night, under the stars, and it seemed like madness, but we didn't turn back.

As we went farther and farther from Dis, my desire to see Nissia free became more resolute in my mind. She was a proud and independent being, and I was honored that she was wearing the special ring that I'd given her. In fact, I'd given her everything she was wearing. I'd given her dignity.

Deep in the night, we stopped again and dismounted in the blackness of the trees off the road. Nissia summoned Fey magic—little wisps like succubi could summon. Nissia hugged me. She felt my love for her had worked. She was free. We made a little shelter under a tree. I wanted to feed from her, but she begged me not to. She was afraid to spoil the magic. I eventually fell asleep with my succubus Hunger stretchy and snarky in my belly.

That was my last night with Nissia. In the morning, she was gone along with her horse. I descended the road slowly back down through the steep cliffs. I'd just reached the depths of the Tartarus forest again when a hunting party found me. Archduke Asmodai rode at the front of the devils, and when I saw him, a horrible chill ran over me. A couple of Hell's army soldiers rode with the devils for good measure.

I begged Master Asmodai to just let Nissia go. He held her magical tracking feather in his gloved fingers. Asmodai refused my request. He gave the feather to his second in command, and the devils continued after Nissia while Asmodai escorted me back to Dis. I have no idea to this day what happened to Nissia.

I wished her well. I did love her, and I refused to ever regret my decision. For a few moons, she and I had developed a truly special bond in the depths of Hell. Our parting had been tragic but perfect, just like the Fey story that Nissia had told me about the boggart and the princess. As I rode back to Dis with Asmodai, I didn't feel penitent. I felt secretly pleased. If Nissia managed to ride to freedom, I'd won a victory against my nemesis.

## Chapter 37. Love And Punishment

When Asmodai and I rode up to the stable of the mansion in Beaujardin, the Master ordered me confined to the house until the Mistress came home. He told his stable girls to allow me neither a horse nor a carriage. The Master promised me he'd punish me himself if I left again. He swung his crop casually, catching my hip as I pivoted away from him. I skittered and ran into the house.

It was a joke to think that two mere slave girls might stop me from taking a horse from the stable, but I didn't care about Asmodai in that moment. My succubus Hunger was ravenous from my long riding efforts—aching like a beast. I needed to feed. My first order of business was to fetch two slave boys. I locked my bedchamber door and took both of them.

When I was feeling better, I sent Cole a carefully-composed messenger bird. I gave no explanation except that Nissia and I were retained for questioning at the city gates. I lay by the pool until night fell, then I read a book for a while and slept. The next day was much the same, and on the morning after, Inannah came home. Fubuki arrived too. They'd re-shuttered the country château. They were coming back to Dis to stay through the winter season, and all for naught since Nissia was gone.

When I went to the drive to greet them, the Mistress didn't speak to me at first. She only glared at me and told me to go to my room. I went upstairs and flopped onto my bed. The confrontation came within an hour. Inannah knocked and bustled through my door. She walked up to my bed with her arms crossed.

"I'm disappointed, fledgling. I left you alone for a few weeks, and you blatantly shirked all of your responsibilities. Tell me why."

I opened the argument with my best card. "Your husband was molesting my slave. He insulted her. He hit her. He actually fucked Nissia in her cage. I didn't want him touching her. I gave her private lessons here in my bedchamber. I refused to leave her alone so your husband could torture her anymore."

Inannah took a deep breath. "The Fey was manipulating you. My husband never touched her."

I snorted in disbelief. "I would believe her far more than him. If that's what he told you, I'm sure he's lying. I saw the red stripes on her backside."

"They could have come from somewhere else. Maybe Nissia sat against her cage bars and made the marks that way."

"I can't believe you're defending him and not me! Now I know the truth of how little you really care about me." I felt a flush of rage that I could scarcely contain.

"I gave Nissia to you in the first place—a rare and valuable slave." Inannah cleared her throat. She must have seen the tears in my eyes, because her tone softened. She leaned forward and squeezed my shoulder. "She can't get away. A hunting party will root her out of the forest eventually. Her third stay with us will be a charm, as the Fey are wont to say."

"I don't think there will be a third time." I explained everything to Inannah about what had happened at the gate house. I explained how the guards hadn't realized that she was my slave because she wasn't wearing her collar, and how her collar was still being repaired. I told Inannah about Nissia's theory that true love could break the curse of Hell's Court. I told Inannah how far we'd gone in the forest, and about the last night I'd spent with Nissia. I felt sure that she'd broken her curse, and we wouldn't see her again.

"You believe you truly loved her then?" Inannah finally asked.

"Yes." I wiped my eyes. Even after all of the spent emotions over the previous two days, I still had some sadness left. "I must have, or else we wouldn't have made it all the way to Erebus."

"Well, I confess I liked the girl too. She wasn't born to be a slave like all of our humans. I hope she wasn't expecting to go home and pretend like this never happened, though. The Blessed Isles are still occupied by Hell's Army."

"Why? Why won't they leave Nissia and her people in peace? Haven't they suffered enough? Do we have to destroy everything that's beautiful? Is that the goal of our Lord?"

"No." Inannah rolled her eyes slightly. "There was an underlying motive for taking the Blessed Isles, and a punishment for neglecting the tithe was only an excuse. Archduke Belial wants to open the Seelie Fey dream portals and use them to press the war effort on Earth."

"Oh, well I guess that sounds important enough to go raping and pillaging everyone."

"Yes, it's important. It's also good for the ambassador business, but unfortunately they haven't called on my services again. I think Hell's Court isn't pleased with me at this point. I may lose my position." Inannah plucked a small folded envelope from where she'd tucked it under the rim of her corset. "This message came from Cole. It arrived sometime this morning, or so I'm told."

"What does it say?"

I sat up on the edge of my bed. I examined the letter. It was a breakup notice, written in an informal and distant tone, detailing Cole's exclusivity contract with Mistress Thyrah. Inannah stepped close to the bed, pulled me forward, and hugged my head to her warm bosom. I wasn't really furious with Cole. He'd trusted me with something important, and I hadn't shown up. Fubuki-si shadowed my open bedroom doorway. She watched the intimate embrace between me and the Mistress.

I met Fubuki's eyes past Inannah's arm, and I felt a chill go through me. Fubuki knew I was bisexual, and moreover that the Mistress had occasionally made love with me in the country. I broke Inannah's hug and pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Inannah looked down at me.

"You still must be punished."

"Why?" I protested. "I just lost my slave, and my boyfriend broke up with me. Have you no pity?"

Inannah snorted. "Pity is a virtue for angel girls, not succubi. You disobeyed your instructions as to how to handle Nissia, and the Master says you've been surly and disrespectful towards him. He didn't appreciate having to chase you through the forest. He also says you've been indulging every night with Nissia. He is an official of the Court. He won't have any illegal activities in his house. He insists I make it clear that we expect you to behave well."

"You promised I could take Nissia any way I wished!"

"I want you to be happy. Many succubi enjoy a female slave every now and then, but the Master of the house sees things differently."

Inannah took my arm and escorted me out of the bedchamber past Fubuki, who kept her eyes downcast as she followed us. I was trembling as we trooped down the hall out of the east wing and through the foyer, where the slave boys were taking the last of Inannah's luggage up the stairs.

When we reached the pit, Inannah instructed me to stand at the edge of the worktable and bend over, just as she'd once made Nissia bend over to take her tea anally. The Mistress lifted my skirts and pushed them over my back. She retrieved a slender reed.

The first blows went to the center of my hindquarters. Inannah bunched my panties in her left hand and tugged them into my crack to expose my tender skin. The cane snapped again and again. Every blow elicited the most profound shiver in my being. I gripped the edge of the worktable and pressed my forehead to the surface. Sweat dripped between my breasts into the silk lining of my corset.

The real agony began when the cane descended to the backs of my thighs. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing. I tried to rise, but Inannah shoved me back down.

"Hold her by her hair, Fubuki-si," the Mistress ordered. "I'm in no mood to bother with bondage right now."

Fubuki had been watching from the bottom of the pit stairs on the far side of the workshop. She advanced across the room. I looked for sympathy in my sister fledgling's eyes, but I found none. Fubuki gathered my hair into her fist and pressed my head down against the worktable. Inannah's cane descended lower to the backs of my calves, eliciting whimpers and cries from my lips.

Inannah's hands went to my ankles. She removed my shoes one by one, stretching me on tiptoe to stay in position. I felt a rough poke in my anus. The Mistress penetrated me with a shoe heel, and she held it inside me. I felt a wave of pleasure and weakness run through my sex.

"Bend your leg and show me your foot," Inannah ordered. I lifted my foot, and Inannah caned the bottom of it again and again, all while keeping me penetrated with my shoe. She lowered my foot. "Next your other."

I lifted my other foot. Inannah caned my sole, even as tears streamed down my cheeks. When Inannah finished with my other foot, she removed my shoe from my ass, tossed it on the floor, and put the cane away.

"Am I finished, Mistress?" I managed. Fubuki was still holding my face against the hard wood of the table.

"Yes," Inannah answered. "I want you in the parlour at the seven for feeding time, fledgling. We'll all pray together to the Lord and Lady before we take our slaves."

Fubuki released me. I was burning hot, and my cheeks were wet. I was humiliated. I grabbed my shoes and ran back up the stairs, ignoring the pain that throbbed from my anus to my toes.

When I got to my bedchamber, I examined my backside in the mirror and sent a bird to Jayeh, begging her to let me visit. She said that she was busy, but I could come the next day. I decided to go swimming in the nude to soothe the burning stripes on me. I called Kveta to remove my corset. After the swim, I went to the parlour as Inannah had commanded. I went completely nude.

The Mistress had three slave boys ready—one for each of us succubi. Asmodai was there too, sitting in the corner and fingering his cane. He glowered at me, and his cruel eyes followed my body. We rarely saw Asmodai in the parlour, and I virtually never went nude. I turned right around to leave.

"Come back here, fledgling." Inannah snapped. She took my arm and brought me over to Asmodai. She turned me around and showed my buttocks and legs to him.

"Not enough," he said gruffly. "We'll discuss this."

Asmodai stood up and left. Inannah smiled at me, as if with twisted sympathy. I refused to look at her. I felt betrayed. The Mistress directed Fubuki and I to pray with her at the fireplace. We all knelt and recited our devotion to Lord Hades and Lady Lilith. Inannah asked for a bountiful New Year. She finished with a scripture.

The three of us succubi had a satisfying lust-filled night. The cocks of all three of Inannah's selected slave boys were overflowing with desire, having gone weeks without release. I felt better after taking the slave boy's sustenance, or at least my succubus belly did, and for a while Cole and Nissia drifted from my mind. Jayeh was another story.

Later that night, I tried to talk with Fubuki and ask how she was doing. She was reticent. She knew about everything. I refused to feel bad about who I chose to love. I decided to do everything I could to reconcile with Jayeh and take whatever she was willing to give me.

If I'd known what was going to happen, I should have forgotten about Jayeh too. I went to see her the next day. She was all that I had left in love except for Inannah, and I wouldn't have Jayeh for long.

## Chapter 38. Loves And Losses

As I'd expected, my fledgling life righted itself with Inannah back in Dis. She sent birds to Mistress Nimreh and Mistress Hattepreh, and I resumed my regular lessons. For more than a moon, my life returned to normal. I tried to avoid Master Asmodai.

I convinced Jayeh to let me see her regularly. I visited twice each week, and I paid her a fee for teaching me. For the first few weeks, we actually had music lessons and no sex. Jayeh was distracted and hinted that she had other lovers.

I really wanted to sleep with Jayeh again, and on a dies Jovis afternoon she acquiesced to my pestering. I charmed her. I wore my highest-quality red nectar perfume with see-through chiffon corset cups. My skirt was hardly larger than a hand rag. I used all of my succubus tricks on her. Jayeh told me to come to the poetry on dies Venĕris just like old times.

And so my last lovemaking with Jayeh happened poetically on a dies Venĕris night. I went to the Gold Heron to see her sing stanzas and play. She was beautiful that night in a pencil-thin burnt golden dress that caught her slender hips down to her mid-thigh, revealing her pale, wax-shiny legs when she sat on her elevated chair. Her fake gold earrings glistened softly in the lamplight. I'd always remember how nice she looked that night, and how I flattered myself into imagining she'd dressed for me.

I knew Jayeh was on the prowl for an incubus to replace Cole. She'd told me. I think I saw the incubus that night too for the first time—a tall slender man in an antique top hat. He sat at a table by himself in a dark rear corner, and his hawk-like eyes were intent on Jayeh.

Jayeh sent me a bird from backstage. She said she was busy. She didn't have time to see me after her poetry recital. I sent her three birds in return, begging her and sweet-talking her into spending time with me. She gave in. She invited me over to the French Quarter, where one of her close poetry friends was having a prenuptial party. The party was wild with lots of stripping and dancing. I got red with some Hetemitis and participated in the Dionysian festivities.

I danced sensually with Jayeh that night. After the party, Jayeh and I were both red, and we went back to her place and enjoyed sex. I wanted to use her phallus and harness on her, and she let me. We kissed and fingered while her slave boy played quiet music for us. I got her plenty slippery with olive oil and fucking. Her bedsheet was drenched.

I wanted to claim her that night. I wanted to fuck her like an incubus. I put a lot of effort into it, and I made her come. She was languorous afterwards. We talked for a while. After losing both Nissia and Cole, I was grateful to have someone who understood me—someone in whom I could confide my secrets and feelings about Asmodai, Inannah, my forbidden bisexual life, and everything. I left Jayeh's apartment that night fairly happy and satisfied, but I felt alone going home. I missed Nissia.

On dies Saturni night after prayers downtown, I ran into Cole. Fubuki and I were walking out of the cathedral while Inannah stayed behind to chat and socialize with her upper-class friends. Cole said hello and asked me how I was doing. I said I was fine. Cole invited Fubuki and me to the Himbeerblume. Fubuki declined. I went. Cole introduced me to a few German incubi, but I was a little bored despite the drinks. Master Dredge had returned north. Cole took his place next to Thyrah, and I went home.

On dies Martis I hadn't heard from Jayeh when I put my leather bouzouki case in the carriage and rode down to Heron Lake Square. I hopped out of the carriage, climbed up the stairs, and knocked. Jayeh didn't answer. I frowned and summoned a bird.

"Hello?"

The bird didn't go through the wide slit above her door. Jayeh wasn't even home. I felt a flush of heat. Where was she? Had she forgotten about me, or was she with someone else? Had she finally found an incubus? I hurried down to the carriage, climbed in, and summoned another bird. I remembered a trick I knew—if Jayeh wouldn't answer me, I'd just keep summoning birds and following their flight paths to her.

"Jayeh where are you?" The bird flitted not far from my fingertips and disappeared. I blinked. I thought I understood what that meant from my magic lessons, but I hadn't seen it happen, at least that I could remember. I summoned another bird to be sure, and it fizzled. I didn't know what to do. Apparently Jayeh had either left the vicinity of Dis, or she was in a place that was unreachable by any messenger bird.

I ordered the stable boy driver to go to the Gold Heron. Still my bird to Jayeh fizzled. I sent a bird to Cole, asking him whether he knew anything, and I went home. Cole didn't answer me immediately. A few days passed, and I still couldn't send a bird to Jayeh. I assumed she'd left Dis. She'd talked once of a vacation in Erebus, especially if she could find a rich incubus who would sweep her off her feet.

On dies Jovis, Paulo came to my door. The slave boy handed me a sealed response to my messenger bird from Cole.

Dearest Shar-si,

After making inquiries, I've determined that Jayeh was arrested by Hell's Court. She's in a cage in the Disian dungeons. She was found guilty of lesbianism and will be sentenced today for crimes of treason against our Lord. It's a pity. I blame myself. If I'd not been exclusive with Mistress Thyrah, this might not have happened.

Much love, Master Cole

I couldn't believe my eyes. If Cole felt guilty, I felt guilty tenfold. I was horrified, and I was worried the devils might come for me next. I took Cole's note down to Inannah. She was writing in her office. I showed her the note and asked if she could take me to Hell's Court. I needed to see my friend and let her know she wasn't alone.

Are you mad?" Inannah snapped. "If anything, we should take you quickly back to the North Country to hide, not deliver you to the devils and Asmodai."

"What does Asmodai have to do with this?"

"Perhaps nothing," Inannah said with her eyes hooded. Her voice went low. "Perhaps everything. I refused to punish you any more for your indiscretions, and I forbade my husband to touch you. He said fine. He said you had other suffering coming, and he mentioned your female friend. Are you guilty, fledgling? Were you fucking your music teacher?"

I bit my lip and lowered my eyes. I loved Mistress Inannah. She was like my mother. The lie stuck in my throat. I wanted to confide in my Mistress, but I was terrified. "I went to her for music lessons. I was learning the bouzouki. Would Asmodai have me arrested too, if it were true?"

Inannah stood up from her desk, came around, and hugged me to her warm chest. Her voice was anguished. "My darling rebel fledgling, what am I going to do with you? I'm sure losing Cole had every influence on your inner turmoil and confusion. You need incubus seed. The tea isn't enough. You need another boyfriend. I'll help you find one. This is my fault."

I held back my protest. There was no point. I didn't think anything could cure my desire for love with another woman, even if I wanted to cure it. "Am I in big trouble?"

Inannah cleared her throat. "Were there witnesses to your indiscretions with your music teacher?"

"Just her slave boy."

"You're a proper fool. The devils will torture both Jayeh and him, and he will crack if Jayeh hasn't. The devils torture everyone. Yes, the devils will likely hear your name when they inflict enough pain. The only question is what they will do with it. You should stay home until I think of what to do. Hell's Court has spies. Did you see any mice while you were staying at Jayeh's?"

"No. She didn't have mice. Why?"

"The devils use magical eye-spy mice to catch criminal behaviour sometimes. They have incubus and succubus spies too. They are called Eyes, and they often have magical spells to ferret things. If Jayeh names you, the devils might watch you before making an arrest. Sometimes with important, connected people, the devils will wait and see. They'll make sure they have absolute proof."

"Do you think Jayeh was watched?"

"Likely. She might have come into contact with an Eye. The Eye might have observed her, then turned her in with his professional word as evidence. Go back to your bedchamber where you'll stay for the rest of the day, fledgling. I'll talk to my husband later tonight. If you're arrested, it would be a catastrophe for both of us. Perhaps we should leave Dis."

"What will happen to Jayeh?"

"Lesbianism is treason in the eyes of our Lord, and the penalty for treason can be death. Now go to your bedchamber. I need to be alone."

"Yes, Mistress."

Inannah leaned close then, lowering her voice to a whisper. "And if you've written anything in your diary, especially about me or Fubuki-si, or even a single line of illicit lesbian desire, you should tear it out and burn it immediately. Actually, I want you to the bring your entire diary down to me now. I'll deal with it personally."

I strode darkly through the halls to my bedchamber. I slammed my door. I sat sweaty hot at my writing desk with a storm cloud in my head. I looked at my diary—at the pages and pages of damning evidence that I'd written about myself for many moons. I hadn't written a lot about Jayeh, but I'd written pages and pages about Nissia. In fact, every paragraph in my diary seemed laced with references to sex with women. It was like opening my eyes and seeing myself for the first time.

Inannah was right. My diary was damning evidence.

I'd hated Asmodai before, but my hate for him that day knew no bounds. I hated the Hell's Court devils. I looked out of my window over the Beaujardin trees at the skyline of downtown. I could see the squat basalt monolith of Hell's Court, which was on the west side of the downtown plazas, in a cluster with the gleaming obsidian towers of Lord Hades' palace and the cathedral.

Hell's Court was a dark and all-powerful institution, and Jayeh had been swallowed up by it. In the pit of my fear and anger, I felt a twisting worm of guilt. I thought of the times I'd coaxed Jayeh into letting me visit, and the times when I'd asked her to let me spend the night. Apparently her fears had been justified. She'd been watched, and maybe so had I. Who had watched her and how? I couldn't remember anyone around her apartment building or anyone following us when we'd traversed the city streets together.

The Eye was probably an incubus. Hell's Court wouldn't have sent a succubus to stalk a lesbian. That would make no sense, or so I decided. I took my diary down to Inannah. I reluctantly surrendered all of my most precious memories for destruction.

That evening I went to the parlour for feeding, and no one spoke. Everyone was tense. That night as I lay in the dark, I tried to imagine Jayeh being tortured, or perhaps dying at the hands of the devils. In a best case scenario, she was lying alone and suffering in a prison cell, wrapped in chains with a lead mask over her head, wasting away in pain.

I'd heard the stories of the Disian prisons sometimes at parties. The well-to-do in Dis liked to celebrate their narcissism with _schadenfreude_ as Cole called it—a love for thrilling tales of misfortune and horror, typically inflicted on poor humans and other unfortunate souls.

I turned my thoughts again to how Jayeh could have been caught. Jayeh had hinted at lovers she wouldn't speak of—a new incubus or two. Perhaps an Eye had wormed his way into her life, only to expose her and rip her guts out.

## Chapter 39. The Eye Of The Court

The next morning, Inannah called me into her office. She said we'd stay in the city. We wouldn't try to flee a possible accusation of lesbianism against me. Inannah confided that new and cruel legislation was under consideration by the Court. A preliminary edict had already emerged, which resulted in Hell's Court offering rewards to anyone who turned in a lesbian. The reward was thirty aurei, a small but motivating sum for most citizens.

This made me even more angry—the possibility that Jayeh's betrayer had ruined a beautiful poetess and sent her to prison solely for a fistful of coins. I asked Inannah if she's heard anything new about Jayeh from Master Asmodai.

"She is not dead yet," Inannah answered flatly. "The arrested lesbians are being imprisoned. The provisions for them are unclear. My husband says he isn't sure of the punishments."

"That's good news," I said.

"No. If Asmodai says he isn't sure, it means the worst. The devils have _carte blanche_ to do whatever they want with the sentenced. If it isn't death, then it's an equivalent. It's a little disturbing, even for me. You shouldn't plan on seeing your friend again. Now go get ready for your blades lesson. Mistress Nimreh should be here soon."

"Is my diary destroyed?"

"Yes," Inannah answered. She didn't look at me.

I went back to my bedchamber and got dressed. I went through my blades lesson with Nimreh. I was distracted. I was in a state of shock, and I was constantly paranoid that I was being watched.

Over the next few days, I got a pen and some paper without telling Inannah, and I started a new diary. I felt a strong need to write. I avoided insulting Hell's Court and the devils. I dutifully stayed at home as Inannah had requested, but the incubus who betrayed Jayeh was the main thing on my mind.

That dies Venĕris, I was dying of boredom and deeply depressed. Inannah took pity on me and let me go to a small party in the French Quarter with Fubuki-si. The driver pulled the carriage up at the curb of La Bougie Rouge, and Fubuki hopped out. Her relationship with Master Lue was still going strong, and she was happy to see him—so much so that I hoped she wouldn't say much when I stayed seated in the carriage and didn't go into the club.

"Are you coming?" she said.

"No. I'm driving down to the poetry reading. I'll bring the carriage back in a few hours to pick you up." I smiled sweetly. Fubuki gave me a warning look and almost said something, but she knew better than to argue with me. She kept her mouth shut, and I ordered the driver south to Heron Lake square.

The Gold Heron was crowded for poetry night. A wave of sadness passed over me just being there, and it took willpower to limit my drink to a small glass of absinthe. I wanted my head clear of nectar, the better to focus on my task.

I scanned the crowd and watched Mistress Jiaoeh, who came and went not only from the backroom but also from a wall hanging that seemed to conceal a stairway. I scanned the crowd. The place was packed with so many people that I couldn't guess who might be the Eye. None of the incubi looked extra menacing.

Near the end of the poetry readings, Mistress Jiaoeh settled on an available seat at the bar, and the bartender poured her a drink in a little turquoise cup. She pulled her pipe from her robe and began to smoke. I got up, stretched my legs, and approached.

"Hello, Mistress Jiaoeh. You probably don't remember me. I'm Shar-si, the second fledgling of Ambassador Inannah. I'm Jayeh's friend."

Jiaoeh eyed me warily. "What do you want?"

"I'm trying to find out more about what happened to Mistress Jayeh. I wanted to know who Jayeh was seeing before she died—the names of the incubi she was sleeping with. I thought I could talk with them."

Jiaoeh lowered her pipe and took a sip from her drink. "Go away and leave me alone. Better yet, just get out of my place."

"But—"

Jayeh's hand snapped forward. I jerked back. The stem of her pipe poked my throat. "I told you. Go. No more questions. No more talk about Jayeh in here, or you will no longer be welcome."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I shrank away. I didn't know what else to say. Shortly after, I received a magical messenger bird from Fubuki saying that she was sleeping with Lue. She didn't need a carriage. I was a little bit jealous at her carefree, happy tone.

I left the Gold Heron wrapped in gloom. If only I could passionately love incubi, I thought, every problem in my succubus life would be solved. I could try going crazy and fucking every incubus I could get, filling myself up with seed as Inannah suggested. I knew that wasn't the answer.

In the weeks that followed, I wasn't arrested by Hell's Court. I heard nothing more of Jayeh. Nissia remained escaped. Inannah held a few parties at Beaujardin and introduced me to new incubi, but I just wasn't interested. I was in mourning. I was in perpetual gloom. I kept going back to the Gold Heron every chance I had. I met more people there, including a patapouf named Mistress Viridiah, who I became something of friends with.

On other nights than dies Venĕris, the Heron had musicians. I liked the Heron scene. It wasn't like higher class parties that Fubuki or Inannah would prefer. It was a real slice of Dis, with real and interesting people. Mistress Viridiah helped me a little bit. She admired my expensive clothes and complimented my perfumes, but she suggested that I dress less extravagantly.

During these weeks, I was often approached by incubi, including a few of the regulars, one of which was slumming like me. He called himself Master Grakel, and from his watch and the clothes under his plain coat and top hat, I guessed him to be rich. He lived on the wealthy south side like I did, but in Trow Hill, not Beaujardin.

I rejected his advances twice, preferring the company of Viridiah or other bohemian artists and poets that frequented the place, especially the beautiful but low-dressed succubi who reminded me of Jayeh. One night I saw a succubus who tugged at a memory string. She was Mistress Nathaleh, Jayeh's friend.

I spent that entire evening talking with Nathaleh, and for the first time since Jayeh, I felt like I was falling in love with another succubus. We went for a walk around the lake, ignoring the odor, and talked about our lives and about Jayeh. Nathaleh been married for two decades since she'd passed her Mistress Test, but she hinted that her husband left her unsatisfied. He went to sleep with other women. In a deserted stretch between two street lamps, I asked her if she'd ever slept with Jayeh.

"Did you?" she said.

"I asked you first," I said. "I'm not a spy for the Court. Fine, I admit that I did. I'm not afraid to say it. I loved Jayeh."

Nathaleh nodded. "I slept with her three or four times, but she was more interested in you and Ahu-si."

"Ahu-si? I don't know her. Does she go to the Heron?"

Nathaleh stopped walking. "Not any more. She was arrested when Jayeh was. I haven't seen either of them since. I'd better go home, Shar-si. My husband will be expecting me."

"Your husband doesn't go to the Heron?"

"No. He refuses to go there. He thinks it's a place for lesbians. Of course, that's why I go. This is obviously a mistake. I don't want to lose everything." With that, Nathaleh turned on her heel and walked away.

"Wait!" I called after her, but she didn't answer. I went back to the Heron. I know it sounds foolish, dear reader, but I hadn't even realized the Heron was a secret place for lesbians to meet. With this idea tugging at my mind, I went there even more relentlessly, and I was more aggressive in my socializing.

I drank more red nectar. I flirted. I even flirted with Viridiah, who flirted with me back, and we ended up kissing and groping each other in the alley when no incubi were around. I didn't fuck her. I wanted a woman to sleep with me, but I wasn't in love with Viridiah.

All the while, Jiaoeh kept watching me with her dark eyes lined with kohl, and her lips painted red. I had a theory that soon turned into a fantasy. If the Gold Heron was a secret meeting place for lesbians, then surely the owner was a lesbian herself? Was Jiaoeh an old sage of decadent woman-loving lust?

Jiaoeh watched me a lot. I wondered if she liked to prey on younger girls. After all, Jiaoeh owned Xiaoxiao, the young slave and crowd favorite who recited classical poetry each week in the Chinese language. I felt sure I could see a lesbian heat in Jiaoeh's sultry, guarded eyes, whenever her eyes met mine.

One night my wild fantasies converged into reality. A little yellow bird scrabbled at my shoulder and spoke. Jiaoeh's voice was low and commanding. _Come through the wall hanging by the bar. Up the stairs to my office._

I was stoked up on red nectar, and I immediately warmed between my legs. I got up from my table where I was sitting with Viridiah and a duo of succubus musicians. Was I in trouble? Why did Jiaoeh want me?

The Gold Heron office was a tiny cramped room with a desk, two chairs, and shelves piled with receipt-boxes and order forms. Jiaoeh lounged behind her desk, looking at me. She indicated that I should close the door, and I did. My heart was pounding. Jiaoeh's perfumed mingled with the musk of cigars and papers.

"You're banned," she said.

I blinked. "What? Why?"

"For your own good. I don't want to see you here ever again. Do you understand me, Shar-si?"

"No. I don't understand." Heat burned my cheeks. My arms tingled. "Why don't you explain to me? In fact, I refuse to leave until you do."

Jiaoeh jerked up out of the seat and grabbed my shoulder with one hand. She grabbed the door knob with the other. I threw all of my weight against the door to oppose her. We struggled. She was extremely strong as an elder succubus, but she was also weak with her vices and leisure, while I was strong from my daily blades practice.

My emotions poured energy into my limbs, enough strength to keep her from ejecting me forcibly into the hall. Finally we stopped and stared each other down. Our hips were pressed. Our arms were locked together. Jiaoeh's wrinkled old lips were mere inches from mine. I could glimpse her blemished skin just under her dark hairline where sweat had washed her white face powder away.

"Fine," she said softly. "I'm throwing you out because you're too careless, and my place is watched. Hell's Court has spies here. I keep hoping they will go and leave me alone. I like you, but you see why you need to leave? You need to leave."

I could see the flicker of her eyes over my lips, my neck, and my corset-enhanced cleavage. I felt a thrill then, despite my dismay. I'd been right about Jiaoeh. After so many weeks, I'd finally connected with someone from the lesbian world who knew people and things. Unfortunately, she never wanted to see me again.

"Who are the spies?" I said. "Why do you allow them in here?"

"Hell's Court has me over a barrel," Jiaoeh rasped with a curl on her lips. "They could fuck me any time and take away everything I have, including my life. I've worked for decades to make this place into what it is. Now they've made it into a honey trap. The devils warned me not to breathe a word to my clients, but word is spreading anyway, of course."

"Is there someone down there right now?" I whispered. "Is there an Eye of the Court?"

"I'll tell you if you agree to leave this place and not come back," Jiaoeh countered. "You can't help Jayeh, Ahu-si, and the others, but you can still help yourself."

I considered the offer. "Fine, but I want to know who the Eye is. I want to know that spy. If you can tell me, you have a deal. I swear I won't tell anyone what you told me."

"Master Grakel is the man you're looking for. Now go. You've been up here too long. He'll get suspicious. Don't look at him when you leave."

Jiaoeh pushed me out of the office door. I felt hot. My legs were wobbly as I made my way down the stairs, and when I reached the common area, the music set off a queer ringing in my ears.

I'd thought Master Grakel was nice, although not my type. I didn't meet his eyes in the common room. I sent a bird to Viridiah saying goodbye. The streets of Dis were unusually cool that night. As I rode home, I felt sick. I imagined Grakel charming Jayeh and going home with her. I imagined him fucking her and filling her with his incubus seed, and thereby swaying her mind into confiding her secrets to him.

Grakel had apparently reported Jayeh to Hell's Court when he'd grown tired of fucking her. I imagined Grakel smiling, smoothing his moustache with contempt, and pocketing sixty aurei as the devils hauled Jayeh and Ahu-si away to their doom in the Bolgia pits.

It was unacceptable. Master Grakel had to pay for what he'd done to Jayeh and the other lesbians at the Gold Heron. Unlike the artists, poets, and the other peaceful, non-violent people who patronized Jiaoeh's place, I happened to be a brilliant student of blades. I practiced killing techniques every day with Nimreh.

On the other hand, Grakel was a big, strong incubus. He wore a fashionable gentleman's saber that would likely be dangerous in his capable hands. Inannah had said the spies of Hell's Court were usually magicians with magic at their command. In the span of my memory, I'd never tried to murder someone. I wasn't sure of my chances with a direct assault on Master Grakel in a dark street, although the thought made my heart beat with excitement.

I considered a plan of seduction and deception, as much as it wrenched my gut. Grakel had approached me twice with a desire to get to know me. How could I reach him, however, if I couldn't go into the Gold Heron? I sent a polite messenger bird the next morning to ask Jiaoeh if she'd reconsider. I received a return bird after a few hours. Jiaoeh issued a flat rejection in my ear.

No. Forget it.

I was fairly certain I could convince Grakel to take me someplace private. The gleam in his eyes had been clear when he'd looked at my lips and assets. I simply had to do it that way. I ignored the possibility that I might be going insane. I ignored the chance that I could end up chained in Hell's Court as a prisoner forever. At least I might see Jayeh again.

I worked my plot down to the grittier details. As I may have mentioned, I was the most precocious blade fledgling that Mistress Nimreh had ever seen. She said my skills were shocking and beyond her ability to comprehend. I was cunning and quick with a short blade especially, and that was the type of weapon I'd need to kill Master Grakel.

I was distracted and nervous at my dies Venĕris blades practice, and Nimreh noticed. I made up a story about an incubus in the street who had assaulted me—a common event for a beautiful, wealthy young succubus in Dis. I asked Nimreh about ways of acquiring and hiding a secret blade on my person. Nimreh said she didn't recommend killing a random incubus even if he was assaulting me. The Hell's Court devils frowned on that sort of aggression from succubi unless they were military.

I begged Nimreh to show me her blades collection anyway, and Nimreh relented. We rode across town to her place, where she extended my training to give me a lesson on blades for discriminating ladies. She had several display cases in her musty two-story house on the northwest side of downtown.

Nimreh showed me a tiny folding blade that could be hidden in the rim of a corset; a knife that clipped into a garter with a slim holster; and a stiletto that could be concealed under a knee-length skirt, strapped to my leg with a sheath.

I thought the stiletto would be most deadly. At Nimreh's encouragement, I took off my training robe and tried it on. The leather buckles were rough and uncomfortable on my skin, and the straps didn't fit my slender thigh. I didn't like it. The garter knife was more elegant and feminine. I wasn't wearing a garter or stockings of course. I asked Nimreh if I could borrow the knife to try later, and she agreed. She showed me two different ways to hold the knife—one for punctures to the torso and eyes, and the other to target the neck and wrists of an assailant.

The following night I went to downtown worship. A lot of important devils attended the prayers and rituals in the cathedral, and I was acutely aware that I was a traitorous lesbian sympathizer. I kept my eyes low, and I only murmured my hymns instead of singing them out loud with Inannah and Fubuki.

I avoided looking at the statues of Lord Hades. I offered silent prayers to Lilith instead, serpent queen and protectress of all succubi, humbly asking her to bless my vengeance for my friend Jayeh.

## Chapter 40. The Death Of A Cocksman

On dies Lunae night I rode down to Heron Lake square. I tethered my horse at the rails and went into the dark side alley, where I lurked as if waiting for someone. I'd worn a little black dress to conceal myself in the shadows. My pleated skirt was long enough to hide Nimreh's folded instrument of death, which was hidden inside my stocking at the garter.

I waited for a few hours until Master Grakel emerged from the tavern. My thumping heart leapt and sank when I saw he already had a female companion. I shrank away so he wouldn't see me, and I only emerged when Grakel's closed carriage rolled away. I hopped onto my horse and followed at a discrete distance, across downtown and the south side, up a winding road into the heights of Trow Hill.

The carriage driver finally pulled through a high iron gate, which closed behind the carriage to bar my entry. I listened to the carriage roll up the gravel drive in the night. It disappeared into the well-tended grounds of an estate.

Master Grakel's mansion was magnificent, judging by the three tiers of lit windows. I considered trying to climb the high thorny wall, but I heard a chorus of hounds barking. Grakel's estate turned me away with a feeling of foreboding. I couldn't know if his passenger was his lover or another victim. I was unwilling to stage an assault against a pack of guard dogs in addition to Grakel, so I rode home.

On dies Martis, I didn't see Grakel at all at the Heron, nor his carriage. On dies Mercurĭi, however, he was back. I was growing impatient, a fact that only made me bolder. I knew Jiaoeh took long smokes in the back of the building, so I waited at the other end of the alley until she came out, then I circled and snuck into the Heron. Jiaoeh had a bouncer—a retired succubus from the Serpent Sisterhood in Hell's army—but I wasn't afraid of her. I also knew that Grakel sat in the rear corner near the wall, so I could approach him without drawing notice.

I bought an absinthe, downed it quickly, and bought another. I breathed to calm my beating heart. I went and sat down with Grakel. The tall, well-dressed incubus greeted me with a slow smile and a twist of his moustache in his fingers. I made small talk with him and tried to play sweet and naïve, which almost always worked for me except with Asmodai and Fubuki-si.

At one point, the conversation stopped, and Grakel turned his attention to another succubus. I was afraid that I'd bored him, but eventually Grakel tapped on my shoulder and asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. I saw Jiaoeh drinking at the bar on my way out. Her eyes were like little coiled vipers, but I could _feel_ her ire wasn't directed me. She nodded at me solemnly. I realized Jiaoeh wanted vengeance too, and I hoped I could oblige.

When we left the Heron, Grakel escorted me to his black covered carriage. He closed the door behind us, and we were alone in a classy cabin that offered dark, intimate privacy. Two velvet seats faced each other. I pulled my dress down carefully when I sat so my garter knife wouldn't reveal itself.

Grakel rested his saber alongside his seat and lit a brass oil lamp, which was mounted on the wall under the silk-padded ceiling. I was sitting with my back to the driver, and Grakel sat opposite in the seat facing me. He barked orders at the carriage driver through a rectangular open window behind my head.

"Take us to Trow Hill," he commanded. "We'll go home."

"I've heard Trow Hill is a nice place." I smiled and tried to make my eyes look excited and not nervous as the carriage accelerated to speed over the paving stones of the Disian streets. Grakel matched my smile.

"Henric is a good driver, and this is a fast carriage. We'll be there momentarily. Until then, perhaps some foreplay?"

"Yes. Of course."

Grakel bent and stroked his hand up my left thigh, pushing my skirt back up. I opened my legs quickly to swing my garter knife out of sight. He leaned further, as if assuming my splay was an overexcited invitation. He caressed my inner thigh to the crease of my black lace panties. He fondled and pinched with his thumb and forefinger, as if examining a dewy little flower in a park. Meanwhile, I was trying to imagine how I might get my knife and do real damage. Grakel pulled away.

"You're a little tense tonight, Shar-si."

"Am I? I'm sorry. I'm tired."

Grakel leaned back and reached for a pocket in the carriage door. He extracted a squat silver cylinder, which looked like a container for face powder, but I smelled nectar when he opened it. The sweet aroma of Hell-flowers filled the carriage. Grakel's moustache twitched as he wetted his index finger and dipped it in. He stretched and lifted his powdered finger to my nose. The jolt bloomed in my nasal passageways, sending a tingle through my eyes.

"Snort," he coaxed. I did. He pressed his damp fingertip up to my nostril, then slid it down over my upper lip. I opened my mouth to take it in. He penetrated me orally. He thrust his long finger down my tongue. I sucked.

"That's a good girl," Grakel said. "I know you like the red. I know you want me, and this will perk you right up."

"I'm perky enough," I said. I was perky to stab him, rather. I hoped I hadn't sounded snarky—I couldn't tell. The pleasure from the red was lighting up my head and sending desire down my spine to collect between my hips, there to pool deliciously in my sex. Grakel withdrew his finger and dipped again, and he served my nose and mouth this way for a few minutes, slowly inundating my entire body with hot red pleasure. He only took a little for himself.

"Lift up your skirt more for me," he said. "To your hips."

"No," I said. "Not yet. Let me do you."

I'd just about worked out how I could reach down to my thigh, pull the knife, and plunge it into Grakel's throat, but what if I missed? He seemed so big and imposing sitting in front of me, and the red was making me want to fuck him. I was definitely wet. I decided it wouldn't hurt to get him off first. He'd be weaker, drained of his male energy.

I scooted my rear end and crouched on my knees in the narrow space between the seats. I unbuttoned the fly of Grakel's dark tweed trousers. I leaned my head and let him smell the perfume in my hair. His cock resulted to be an impressive toy. I coaxed it from his trousers, as if charming a serpent to rear up in front of me. I took the end of his cock in my nectared mouth. I knew I wasn't a brilliant cocksucker, but I gave it everything. He moaned and helped me. He held my head between his big hands, gorging me until I choked. I pulled and throated like a little whore.

I worked feverishly, trying to get him to release. I was compromised without access to his balls and other nether locations. I was close to getting him off when I heard the metal squeal of the gate outside the carriage. The wheels crunched on driveway gravel. It had seemed like only minutes, but evidently we'd reached Trow Hill.

"Enough," Grakel said. He tugged me up. I sat back into my seat. My head whirled, and the carriage cabin dizzied in front of me. The red nectar was very high quality. I was much redder than I'd expected. I tore my eyes away from Grakel's cock to look at his fingers, and then at the knobby hilt of his saber at the end of the seat. I felt the familiar intense red feeling of wanting everything inside of me—anything phallic in sight.

I took a deep breath and arranged my skirt over my legs. My heart was pounding. We were already at his place, and there would be dogs and slaves. I just needed to steel myself, trust my blade lessons, and strike. When the carriage rolled to a stop inside the dark gloom of Grakel's carriage house, I slid my skirt up and gripped the handle of my knife. Grakel's eyes were lidded in the low light of the single brass lamp. The smile on his face had disappeared, and so had mine.

"So here we are," I said, sliding the knife slowly from its sheath.

"Henric?" Grakel said, meeting my eyes.

I heard the driver shift in the front seat. I could handle the driver with a simple hateful kinehex, I decided. No slave boy was a match for me. I pulled my knife and lunged, only to seize up short. I choked, and my eyes bulged. Something was around my neck.

I was taken by complete surprise. My eyes blinked at the crucial moment, and my knife jolted low to jab into Grakel's collarbone. He grunted with pain. I stabbed again, but I could no longer reach him. I grabbed for my neck and found a braid of rope, which tightened even as I explored it with my fingers. I could feel a knot and finger knuckles bumping the back of my head. I reach my hand back. My neck was in a noose, and the noose pulled me cruelly up against the seat back.

Grakel rubbed his upper chest slowly as a smile spread over his face. I hadn't seriously injured him. I realized what must have happened. Grakel's driver had passed a noose through the window over my head at the perfect moment. The rope tightened further, restricting my breathing. I had a feeling the driver had done such a thing before.

I panicked. I dropped the knife and grabbed for my neck to keep the rope from cutting off my breath completely. Grakel turned on me and grabbed my wrist, forcing my arm back. I lifted my left arm to punch him, but he deflected the blow and wrestled with me. Grakel braced himself against the opposing seat. He had my wrists pinned. His driver hauled more on my neck. I felt steel cuffs snapping over my wrists—one at each side of the horrible window above my head. The two men had me in bondage like a puppet.

Grakel finally eased off of me and settled into the opposite seat. He rubbed his chest again and licked blood from his fingertips. He wiped sweat from his brow. He twisted his moustache while he examined me in the low lamp light. The carriage door swung open, and Henric's head appeared. I twisted my head to look at him. He smirked. He wasn't even a slave, I realized. He was an incubus like Grakel although not as handsome—a wicked little man with a bulbous nose, thin lips, and the moon-silver clearly visible in his cunning eyes.

"Don't bother trying to send a bird," Henric said. His cultivated German accent belied his physical ugliness. "This carriage house is specially sealed."

I tried to send a bird anyway, a silent one. My throat was too compressed to form a sentence. _Help, Mistress. Master Grakel has me in his carriage house._ I couldn't know if the bird had fizzled as Grakel had promised. My hands were cuffed tightly above either side of my head, and I couldn't even see my fingers.

Grakel bent and picked up the garter knife from the carriage floor. "You're a quick little viper, aren't you? Why did you do that? Don't bother lying, because I'll wring the truth out of you before the night is over."

I swallowed against the noose. My face felt hot, and my head was dizzy. My eyes went low again to Grakel's cock, and I admonished myself. I considered staying silent and seeing what Grakel would do, but he had a persuasive voice, and most of all I wanted him to know. My vengeance had been denied, but I was still dying to let that vengeance come out.

"I did it for Jayeh."

Grakel nodded. "Yes, of course. Jayeh. You were her lover, then?"

"Did you bring her here too? Did you trick her like this?"

"Oh yes," Grakel replied. "She was in the same position you find yourself now, Shar-si. So were you Jayeh's lover? I'll ask you once more."

"So what if I was? You're disgusting." A shiver of fear ran through me, coupled with intense hate. Grakel used my own knife to cut my skirt right up the middle through the hem. He continued up my stomach until he'd cut completely up my front. Meanwhile, my head was feeling still dizzier again. The rope around my neck was too tight.

On inspiration, I pushed my feet against the base of the opposing seat to relieve the pressure. Grakel opened my dress like petals, exposing my whole body. He refocused low on my panties. He cut them away in two deft strokes, leaving me clad only in my corset and stockings. He probed my sex again. His rough fingers dragged wetness up my stomach. My gut wrenched with disgust.

"I want you to confess everything." Grakel slapped me hard across my face. "You're holding back. Tell me you were Jayeh's lover."

"I confessed."

Grakel snorted. "That wasn't heartfelt enough. A lesbian only confesses once in Hell, and then it's over. The devils own your body and soul. I want to hear more."

"I don't think so."

"You know what I think? You need some encouragement to loosen that little tongue. I'll just fuck you for a bit, and we'll see how you feel."

"Why not?" I managed. I was breathing in short, constricted gasps. The red nectar was still burning in me, making me desire Grakel deeply despite my position. I was horrifyingly wet between my legs, and even more so when Grakel took his red nectar and rubbed it into my clitoris. Pleasure waved yet again through my abdomen and sex.

Grakel wormed his hips between my stockinged thighs. He fished his cock forward, grabbed my ass, and drove into me. Intense pleasure spiked into my head. He started a muscular, energetic rhythm. I tried to pull my suction and get him off, but every vain effort made me more open and less in control. I came for him in a flood within sixty seconds. That seemed to please him, and he just kept going.

"Oh yes," Grakel gloated. "Take that cock. You love it, you little lesbian cunt. You love cock, and you hate yourself for it."

"Mmph." I tried to tighten my abdomen against him. I surrendered my efforts to get him off and switched to defense instead. Was he jealous? Was he just pathetic? I couldn't know, but he could fuck. His big hands commanded the entire curvatures of my buttocks. He speared me deep, ramming against the gates of my Hunger's palace. My Hunger was very agitated by this fact. The red nectar had stoked me, and my first orgasm had drained me. I finally came again in shuddering waves.

"There you go," Grakel said. "That must feel so good, so wonderful to feel so empty, you little whore. You're so filled with desperation that you can no longer control yourself. I'm going to play with you for a few days instead of just one night like Jayeh."

Grakel pulled out to rest for a few seconds. I caught his cruel eyes then. His eyes seemed porcine in that moment, like a devil's eyes. I wondered how he could possibly enjoy such a treatment of me. He was a male, I thought, and they were all the same.

My thoughts were collapsing on themselves. My Hunger was a roused, unleashed beast, demanding immediate attention. I was so empty. I prayed to Lilith that he wouldn't make me come again. He went to his knees and retook control of my ass. He nosed my sex, but dipped lower. He pressed my anus with the end of his cock. He pushed expertly and popped into my wet forbidden nethers.

"Damn you," I grunted, or somesuch. The jolting from that lower angle put more strain on my ankles, my wrists, and especially my neck. Pain splintered in my most sensitive flesh. Grakel fucked me with slow, shallow strokes, building momentum for a few minutes until he popped out, and then back in.

I soul-groaned. The remnants of my succubus energy flooded out through my broken hole, washing after that cock like a cork torn from a wine bottle. Grakel fucked several more strokes, then pulled out with the same result—a horrible vacuum that tugged on my insides, inverting the moorings of my inner energy vessels, emptying me completely.

Inannah had taught me the dangers of anal sex for a succubus. The apertures of my energy-reservoir were like the valves of a dam. The valves could open and close, except my anus, which was designed for flow only one way. When that valve was broken, only time and healing could close it again.

Grakel plunged in and out. The lowest remnants of my reservoir were draining. With every withdrawal I could feel more of my succubus energy leaving my body. I'd never felt so utterly empty. My skin went cold. I tingled all over. My head lolled on the rope.

In. Out. In. Out.

I tried to count his rhythm.

In. Out. In. Out.

I couldn't close myself anymore when he retracted. I was open, and my body made a sucking sound with every stroke. I came to consciousness when Grakel stopped. I was vaguely aware of an acrid smell in my brain. I opened my eyes with a dim realization that he was dragging me from the carriage. I was no longer in bondage. I was no longer a puppet, but I'd become a doll. I was utterly limp. I couldn't move a muscle.

I had a sudden realization that I didn't own my own body. My Hunger was my owner, and my body was just a rented room. I needed to pay my rent, or I'd be homeless. I'd be kicked into the void. If my muscles even twitched when I bid them, I only reached feebly for Grakel's cock. I needed his cock, or I would die. He dragged me around the end of the carriage to a workshop in his spacious, high-ceilinged carriage house. A low work table sat in the center of the lamplit room. An array of hooks and chains hung from the carriage house rafters.

"Are you ready for the second stage?" Master Grakel sounded positively cheery. "The punishment for lesbianism is all wrong, in my opinion. The Court devils only understand pain and interrogation so they can make more arrests. Lesbians need real reformations that only skilled incubi can provide. So I've brought you to my home, and I've emptied you completely so I can teach you the meaning of your female life, Shar-si. So far, I've done nothing illegal. I just fucked you, like you wanted. That's the reason why succubi exist. Lesbians don't understand that, sadly. Our Lord's scriptures are very clear, but lesbians ignore our Lord."

I vaguely saw Henric in the corner, and my head registered that something was wrong with the picture. Henric was slumping forward, and underneath him on the floor was a dark, wet-looking red pool. Grakel saw the driver's problem at the same time, but it was too late. Grakel made a queer croaking sound. He released me suddenly, and I slumped like a pile of mud onto the dirty carriage house floor.

I looked up to see Grakel wrestling and punching with someone. He spun around, dancing with his antagonist. She was a tall woman wearing a form-fitting black outfit. Her white-blonde hair was wound in a netted bun. Her diamond earrings sparked a connection in my dull, desperate head. My rescuer was Mistress Inannah. She had a wire wrapped around Grakel's neck.

Grakel finally went limp. Inannah hauled on a mechanical crank and lifted him clean off his feet into the air, where she released him. He swung back and forth, suspended by the wire. The steel wire was evidently one of Grakel's own ceiling contraptions. Inannah had turned his cruel toys against him. My Mistress knelt down, grabbed my arm, and examined my eyes.

"Wake up, you little fool! I love you too much to lose you."

I shook my head and reached for the edge of the work table. Inannah heaved me up to my feet. A bit more consciousness returned to me, and my consciousness was consumed by my need. Grakel's eyes were closed. He swayed back and forth. His face was purplish as if dead, but his cock was rock hard. I grabbed for it and almost fell.

"I need to feed," I whispered. "Please."

Inannah hoisted me bodily onto the table. She swung Grakel's body between my thighs. I was too delirious to watch her employ her elder succubus skills, but within a minute Grakel's hot cock creamed into me. I finally woke up when the energy flooded my belly. I scrambled to get off of the creepy table and away from that man. Inannah arched her eyebrow. To my surprise, my Mistress didn't seem furious or frantic. She seemed calm, collected, and solemn.

"Do you feel better, fledgling?"

"Yes," I said. "You saved me. I guess you got my bird?"

"No," Inannah answered. "I was here. I was worried."

I sniffed. "You care about me."

Inannah's brow furrowed, as if in pain. She didn't meet my eyes, and her voice sounded vulnerable. "I never stop caring about my fledglings."

"So you followed me here? You've been here all along?"

"Yes. I watched the table preparations from the side door aperture, and I came to the conclusion that he wasn't planning to send you to the void yet. I waited until he brought you out of the carriage to get the jump on him. I know Master Grakel. He's a friend of my husband. He's very dangerous, or at least he was."

"Is he dead?"

"Not likely yet," Inannah answered. "Asphyxiation will take a while to completely kill an incubus this way—perhaps a night and a day. No, we have more work to do. Where is your knife?"

"He had it," I answered. "I think he put it back in its sheath."

Inannah fished in Grakel's pants pocket and found the blade. She examined it in the light before handing it to me. "I don't care how weak you are, fledgling. You're going to finish this."

When recording the events in my new secret diary, I saw no need to go into detail. Inannah helped me disembowel Grakel where he hung. She took the opportunity to give me an anatomy lesson. She taught me the courses of his arteries and veins. After we were done with Grakel's corpse, we opened up the carriage house door and took command of the carriage driver's seat. We drove through a pack of Grakel's hounds, who were apparently feasting on a dead stable boy. The hounds growled at us, but they loped past the carriage and left us alone.

I asked Inannah how she'd gotten past the Hell hounds. She said she'd used illusion magic. She felt sorry for Grakel's handsome stable boy. I loved my Mistress so much in that moment, and I knew she loved me. She was a powerful elder succubus. She wasn't an ambassador of Hell for nothing. She directed the carriage not back to Beaujardin but instead towards downtown.

"Where are we going, Mistress?" I asked.

"We need to take care of some things. Hell's Court will investigate."

I told the Mistress that I still desperate for a male slave. I needed to feed again, or I felt like I might pass out. Inannah took a roundabout way despite my imperative, driving in circles to throw off any Hell's Court trackers. We arrived once again after midnight at Heron Lake Square.

Inannah directed the horses into the dark alley and told me to wait in the carriage while she went to speak with Jiaoeh. When she returned, she seemed pleased, and so was I, because she was towing a French incubus whose breath reeked of absinthe. The bearded man climbed aboard and fucked me graciously. I welcomed his gush of life-giving seed, hot and fresh from the French quarter.

When I'd had my fill, and life was warming my limbs a little more, Inannah sent the Frenchman packing and helped me from the carriage. She upended a large bottle of alcohol all over Grakel's carriage seats. She lit a match. We walked away. Inannah explained that I'd left moisture and bits of my hair in the carriage, and all of that had to be erased. A tracker could work magically with almost anything.

We walked briskly, and were on the far side of the lake when the carriage lit up the night with flame, creating a commotion that drifted away from us even as the team of poor horses screamed and bolted. I felt sorry for those beasts. Inannah's cruelty was more than a match for her charity. Apparently she'd only watched and waited while I'd gotten ass-fucked almost to death by Master Grakel.

Again we took a roundabout way, walking north into the Coliseum District while Inannah quietly lectured me on how to properly kill someone in Dis and get away with it. I listened as best I could, although I was walking in my heels, and my legs screamed with pain after half a league. I wasn't going barefoot on those muck-pasted bricks though, especially with the thorny cobra-leaf trees everywhere.

Finally Inannah found us a late-night public rickshaw to take us back to Beaujardin. Inannah paid the driver and escorted me inside the central foyer of our home. Inannah hugged me. She held me at arms' length. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes were low.

"Let's go for a vacation before the storms, fledgling. I'm angry with my husband and with Dis in general. My time up in the north country wasn't nearly long enough. Perhaps we could even stay the summer. We'll go just you and me without Fubuki-si."

## Chapter 41. Love's Triumph

As promised, Inannah closed up her affairs in record time. We arrived back in the north country the following night. Inannah roused a few slave boys to draw us a bath. Inannah and I bathed together in her big tub by candlelight. We'd gotten dirty and gritty from the wyrm flight. We languorously scrubbed each other. The ritual was a sensual experience with the Mistress, and at the same time abnormally normal, without any punishments, hooks, enemas, or anything else.

When we finished bathing, we went to the parlour and took our slave boys. They were desperate after some weeks in chastity, and everyone enjoyed the scene. When we finished, Inannah sent the boys to clean and ready Inannah's bedchamber.

Inannah's face became solemn again. We were alone in the intimate, lamplit parlour. She suggested that I sit in the cozy corner chair. She opened her satchel, which lay on the side table. She drew forth a small nectar pouch and dumped a generous heap of red-purple into the silver clamshell sniffer.

"I know you need this, fledgling. We're going to wean you soon, though. The Sisterhood Council says they want you."

"They want me to join the military?"

"Yes." Inannah cleared her throat. "I think your recent eagerness to learn about hidden blades impressed Nimreh. She passed word of your interest and skills, and certain people approached me this week. They want me to deliver you for training at the Sisterhood, perhaps next year. They're interested in seeing you become an assassin for Lilith."

I felt a little thrill at the thought of joining the Sisterhood, an option that Jayeh had feared. Jayeh lacked any ability with swordplay, but I was supposedly brilliant. The Sisterhood harbored many lesbian and bisexual succubi and fledglings, or so Jayeh had said, all enjoying the military exemption from marriage. My thrill turned to hollow nervousness.

"I like the Sisterhood, but I don't want to leave you, Mistress."

"I don't want you to leave me either, fledgling," Inannah murmured. "I've always wanted you to be _my_ assassin, not an assassin for the Sisterhood. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You were an inch away from killing Grakel, but he had too many advantages. Your nectar addiction was your real weakness. You should have killed Grakel before you even entered the gates of his estate. The forest was dark. You could have killed both men on the road, and then escaped into the forest."

"Wait. How long were you watching?"

Inannah's lips curled into a small smile. "What if I told you Master Grakel was sent by my husband to watch you at the Gold Heron, and Hell's Court wasn't involved at all. Once my husband had enough information on your activities to satisfy him, he ordered Grakel to play with your friend Jayeh and pump her for information, as we might say. Afterwards, he gave Jayeh to the devils for arrest, the better to push forward, on a public level, the anti-lesbian agendas currently under consideration at the Court."

I frowned. "Wouldn't that put me in danger? I'm still worried about getting arrested by the devils. If they arrest me, then they might find out about you too."

"Exactly." Inannah's eyes darkened. "My husband took over Jayeh's case at the Court, and thereby gained leverage over us both. Asmodai only had to give his command, releasing Jayeh from her cell for interrogation. He knew everything, and he was toying with me."

"That's horrible, Mistress!"

"Yes it was, until Jayeh died in her cell last night, and Grakel also met his unfortunate end. Fledgling, do you remember me asking you to kill Grakel?"

"No. I tried to kill Grakel by myself."

"Excellent. You don't remember, but you are still willing to kill for me, yes? You're willing to do as I ask, even if you don't remember. I can't control you with spells of persuasion, so I have to use different ways. I can only make strong suggestions, and then maybe you don't remember them because of your nectar."

"Speaking of nectar, I could really use some right now."

I reached for the nectar sniffer, but Inannah held me back. She knelt and laved the sniffer with her long tongue instead, taking up a shocking quantity. Inannah moaned softly. She knelt on the floor at my bare feet. She grabbed my knee for support. She rocked slowly from side to side, as if dancing with a serpentine inner rhythm of pleasure.

"I've never said it, fledgling, but I'm envious when I see you lusting for other people. I'm angry when people like my husband try to hurt you. It's a personal insult."

"So can I have some, Mistress?"

"You can have some nectar from my tongue, but first you must give me your oath. Promise you'll never leave me, fledgling. Promise I can feel this love forever, or at least until my love proves to be the death of me. Promise I can have both your garter blade and your heart. I love you, my fledgling. I love you so much, and I want to love you even more. I want to see where this feeling can lead. If I can sway your mind, it's only fair that you can sway mine."

"Yes, Mistress," I said breathlessly. Inannah's words were the words I'd always wanted to hear. "I promise. I love you so much too."

Inannah shifted forward between my thighs. I scrunched my sex off the edge of the chair. Inannah rose up and planted big wet kisses on both of my nipples. Tingles of sweet pleasure filled my breasts. I sighed with contentment and ran my fingers daringly through Inannah's hair.

Inannah met my eyes and slid lower, sensuous and undulating. She was like a serpent between my legs, but it was hard to say which of us was the charmer. Inannah pushed her head between my thighs. She licked gently at first, as if savoring my taste. She teased my creases with her tongue, and then finally took the plunge.

I hitched and bucked, but Inannah's strong hands held control, mastering my spasm. I relaxed and gave myself to the pleasure. I melted into the chair. My sex opened to Inannah's tongue—her beautiful, silken, lying, persuasive, and manipulative tongue. I wasn't sure if I could believe her words, but she was a fork-tongued serpent with serious endurance.

I drifted into bliss, and Inannah venerated me for at least an hour while the north Tartarus wind sighed and scratched outside the parlour windows. I came for her once. She licked up all of my wetness, along with my subtle succubus addiction. We went to bed. We caressed, kissed, and slept.

In the morning I awoke to find Inannah between my thighs again, licking and suckling hungrily. She brought me to the edge of pleasure, and then she rose up and climbed over me. She reversed and settled on my face. Inannah was bitter to the taste, but I wanted to share her bitterness. I wanted to know my Mistress from the inside out. I wrapped my hands around her strong thighs and went passionately to the task. I wanted to thank her. I wanted to please her. I wanted to give her something different than her husband.

I can't relate everything that happened during those weeks in the north country, dear reader. Inannah and I were making an impetuous commitment to each other. She seemed to be turning against Archduke Asmodai and Hell's Court, and that made me happy.

I'd lost Jayeh, but I'd won Inannah from her husband. With the help of Love, I'd defeated my archenemy yet again. I planned to forgive Inannah's schemes and cruelties. I planned to give our relationship a chance, at least until I went to the Serpent Sisterhood. I knew Inannah felt compassion and joy in her ancient and suffering soul. I couldn't know what our future might hold, but for the moment Love had triumphed.

###

Author's Notes:

Thanks for reading my book. If you enjoyed this book, consider leaving a positive review at its source, and reading the remaining books if you haven't already, which tell the true story of Shar's adventures, starting with her fall from Heaven. This book is an optional, supporting volume to a main traditional trilogy ( _Down Deep Inside_ , starting with _Down Where The Blue Violet Beauties Bloom_ ), all of which required sacrifice and the best times of this author's life to write. Each manuscript was developed through hundreds of hours of effort and many revisions to deliver the finished, polished work. Any form of patronage is appreciated.

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Down Where The Blue Violet Beauties Bloom: ISBN-13: 978-0-9969243-0-6

Deep In The Wild Dire Columbine: ISBN-13: 978-0-9969243-1-3

Inside The Dark Heart Of The Garden: ISBN-13: 978-0-9969243-2-0

Secret Diary Of A Young Succubus*: ISBN-13: 978-0-9969243-3-7

*While _Secret Diary_ is meant to be read after the main _Down Deep Inside_ trilogy, or simply independently, the events of the story occur chronologically between the second book _Deep_ , and the third book _Inside_.

Visit my website for maps, more images, and lore: http://gatokitty.org

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

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