Succubus 8 (Riddles And Revenge): A LitRPG Series

by A. J. Markam

  Eluun led us up into the mountains that surrounded the city, then into a cave that opened up into a humongous cavern. She lit our way with a white light from her hands, and I could see that she had already turned it into a home of sorts, with a dozen furs already flung out on the ground far from the entrance. The remains of a fire smoldered near the mouth of the cave, placed there so the smoke could easily escape into the air outside.

  We unpacked the supplies, and Krug broke up the wood crates and put them on the ashes of the fire.

  “Alaria, would you…?” Eluun asked.

  Alaria nodded and set the pile ablaze. Krug gratefully sat down and warmed himself by the fire.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked Eluun when we were settled.

  “I don’t know,” she said dully as she stared at the flames. “I’ve just been trying to get through today.”

  “You can’t live out here alone,” Alaria said quietly.

  “I could… frost elves lived out here a thousand years before they constructed the temple and the palace.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Although there doesn’t seem much point in staying.”

  “Come back to Exardus with us,” I suggested. “Help us kill the asshole who did this.”

  “Revenge won’t bring my friends back,” Eluun murmured.

  I’d forgotten I was dealing with a high priestess of a religion that was all about love and connection. So I took a different tack.

  “Then just help us stop him from doing it again… so no one else will have to suffer.”

  She sat there looking at the fire… then nodded. “That I can do.”

  Then she started to cry.

  Alaria held her as she sobbed uncontrollably.

  Krug looked unsettled. He wasn’t one for displays of emotion, so this was likely enormously uncomfortable for him.

  “Eluun – have you slept since any of this happened?” I asked.

  She shook her head no.

  “Would you like to go lie down in the back?”

  “I don’t want to be alone,” she sobbed.

  “Alaria and I will go with you. We won’t leave you.”

  She finally nodded through her tears.

  “Keep watch up here, will you?” I asked Krug.

  He nodded, relieved to be rid of the crying woman.

  Alaria and I took her back into the cave, about a hundred feet into the cavern where she had set up a pile of furs to sleep on. Alaria had brought a single burning piece of wood that provided a tiny bit of illumination, and placed it far away from us. It flickered gently like a candle.

  We settled Eluun down on the ground. Alaria lay on one side of her; I lay on the other, stroking her hair and trying to comfort her.

  “Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces…” Eluun whispered.

  What do you say to something like that? I had no idea.

  “I thought I would die here alone…” Eluun said, and began to weep again, but softly this time.

  Alaria kissed her forehead tenderly. “Well, we’re here now.”

  Suddenly Eluun lifted her head and kissed Alaria on the lips.

  My succubus pulled back, surprised.

  “Please,” Eluun whispered. “Please… I just want to feel alive… it’s so sweet to be alive, and so bitter to be alone…”

  Alaria looked over Eluun’s shoulder at me.

  I nodded gently, then moved to get up to go –

  But Eluun grabbed my wrist.

  “Stay,” she pleaded. “Please… stay…”

  And so I did.

  What happened next made me uncomfortable at first… but then it seemed natural, a way for Eluun to deal with her grief.

  She kissed Alaria… softly… gently…

  And then me. Her tears were salty on my lips.

  Then she began to fumble at our clothing. First Alaria’s, then mine. We both helped her out of her robes.

  Skin on skin, naked bodies pressed together. We piled furs on top of us to keep warm.

  I caressed Eluun as she and Alaria tenderly made love. The frost elf and I kissed as Alaria brought her to orgasm… Eluun whimpering and staring into my eyes as she came.

  And then she gently pulled me on top of her, nestling me between her legs.

  I entered her and moved slowly, staring into her eyes as silent tears coursed down the side of her face.

  I didn’t try to make her come; I knew that wasn’t the point.

  It was connection… not being alone in a time of need.

  First she would kiss me… then turn her head to Alaria and kiss her… then all three of us would gently kiss each other, our lips brushing over ears, necks, lips.

  Alaria reached down with one hand and began to caress Eluun’s clit. With her soft touch, and my gentle movements, Eluun eventually climbed to the peak of bliss.

  After she had finished crying out, I asked gently, “Would you like me to stop?”

  “No,” she whispered, “stay inside me as long as you can… it feels wonderful…”

  And so I did. My movements weren’t vigorous enough to make me come, and so it seemed like I was inside her for hours, caught in a hypnotic haze of pleasure and tenderness, as we touched each other, and kissed, and stared into each other’s eyes.

  I did finally reach a point where I couldn’t hold back.

  “I’m going to come,” I whispered. “Do you want me to – ”

  I felt her hands grab my ass under the silken furs and pull me deeper into her.

  “Come inside me,” she whispered. “Please, come inside me.”

  I did, and as I groaned with pleasure, her face lit up with the first smile I’d seen from her since we’d arrived. She stared into my eyes the entire time, then kissed my lips softly as I came down from my peak.

  As my erection faded, I pulled out of her. Alaria and I nestled in on both sides of her, softly stroking her, caressing her, kissing her neck and shoulders… until finally she fell asleep, and Alaria along with her.

  12

  As both women slept on the furs next to me, I luxuriated in the sweetness and quiet sensuality of everything that had just happened…

  But then my thoughts returned to another woman I cared about.

  I checked Meera’s picture on my menu bar.

  No change, which meant she was alive and unhurt. Good news.

  Stig was fine, too. Probably drunk off his ass, but no damage (except to his liver).

  I lay back on the bed of furs and tried to sleep, but couldn’t. I was too agitated about what was going to happen, so I left Eluun and Alaria sleeping and logged out.

  I awoke in my long-term immersion pod in Westek’s research department and opened the unit’s gull-wing door.

  Westek had come a long way since the days when I first got hired. Gone were the dozens of wires and medical monitoring machines; now I had a self-contained unit. The company was on the brink of going to market with long-term immersion technology, so I’d been upgraded to a prototype. It was a lot sleeker than what I was used to, and the mattress inside was a lot more comfortable, but otherwise it was the exact same in-game experience.

  After a brief pit stop in the bathroom, I walked down to the writer’s room.

  What I found was a flurry of activity.

  Satish, the head writer and one of my best friends at Westek, was walking around barking orders. Everybody else looked like their pants were on fire as they rushed to complete activities.

  “Dude, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Can’t talk, the Russians will be here in an hour,” Satish informed me.

  The ‘Russians’ were Igra Corp – a Russian corporation that had recently bought Westek’s competitor, DarkWorld. Word on the street (the ‘street’ being the internet) was that they were looking to do an acquisition of Westek, too, and merge both games to basically corner the immersive VR market.

  A while ago I’d asked my boss, John, how a Russian gaming company could have enough cash to buy out two of the biggest VR gami
ng companies on the market. I mean, Japanese, sure – Sony or Nintendo came to mind. And there were plenty of American companies who could have done it. Microsoft, Blizzard, EA –

  But Russian?

  “There are some who speculate that Igra’s actually a front for Vladimir Putin’s pals who need to launder money,” John had told me. “That’s speculation, though, and you didn’t hear it from me. Especially if you ever meet anybody from Igra.”

  I didn’t understand why the writing department would be in such a tizzy, though. “So why are you running around like a chicken with its head cut off?”

  “It’s only partially detached, thank you. And the Russians asked to meet with all the major departments.”

  “What – QC, too?” I asked, shocked. It was the first I was hearing of it.

  “Ha – no. Not a major department,” Satish said with a smile and a condescending pat on my head.

  He was just trying to get my goat.

  Although it was funny because it was true.

  I snorted. “Since when do bigwigs meet with writing departments?”

  “I don’t know. I just chew my food with my mouth shut and show up when and where they tell me to.”

  “By the way, you guys are going kind of dark on my latest quest – ”

  “Can’t talk!” Satish called over his shoulder as he headed back to his office.

  I sighed, turned around, and headed down to the cafeteria. The pod’s intravenous infusions had their charms, but I was hankering for a burger.

  There was a nervous thrum in the eating area. People were apparently abuzz about the prospect of the Rooskies’ impending visit and what it meant for the company – and their jobs.

  I got my burger, fries, and a coke, then looked around for any familiar faces.

  None.

  That was sort of the downside of being isolated in a pod for 96 hours at a time: you tended not to make work friends very easily.

  I avoided any groups that looked like they were intently gossiping, and settled for a mostly empty table. The only other person sitting there was a woman with a half-eaten burger of her own.

  More like a girl than a woman, really. She was early 20s, short, petite. Cute. Black hair in pigtails, round John Lennon-style glasses, nose ring. She wore a black indie rock t-shirt, some band I’d never heard of.

  If I had to bet where she worked, I’d put money on the art department.

  “Mind if I join you?” I asked politely.

  “Ah, the famous Ian Hertzfelder,” she said with a smirk. “Be my guest.”

  She had a nice voice – and a playfully sarcastic tone – that I liked right away.

  “Famous, huh?” I said as I sat down. “How’s that?”

  “What, are you kidding? Every guy near my desk keeps talking about your latest sexual exploits. I can’t fucking get away from your fucking.”

  I immediately blushed. “Uhhhh… I didn’t realize it was a topic of conversation…”

  “Relax, dude. I play the adult expansion pack, too. I’m not busting on you because you like to get your freak on.”

  “Oh… um… what’s your handle?” I asked.

  AKA, what’s your in-game name.

  She cocked one eyebrow, amused. “If you’re delicately trying to ascertain if we’ve slept together in OtherWorld, that would have been my lead instead of my coworkers endlessly talking about you.”

  Actually, I had been delicately trying to ascertain that.

  “Okay. Phew,” I said with a laugh.

  She narrowed her eyes. “‘Phew,’ what?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said ‘phew,’ like you were relieved. Why?”

  “Oh, you know – it might be a little… awkward.”

  I immediately thought of Stig and was glad he wasn’t here to interject his commentary.

  The girl shifted back in her chair and draped one arm over the top, like she was settling in for a contentious discussion. “How so?”

  “…what?”

  “How it would be awkward? Are you saying I’m not attractive enough to sleep with in the game?”

  “Oh, no – no, you’re really cute, I’d totally sleep with you – ”

  As soon as it slipped out, I froze like a deer in headlights.

  I could imagine a stern executive staring at me from across a desk: And THAT was when you propositioned your coworker, Mr. Hertzfelder?

  The girl just kept looking at me.

  I felt a bead of cold sweat start to trickle down my ribs –

  And then she started laughing.

  She actually put her forehead down on the table, she was laughing so hard. When she finally sat up straight again, she wiped a little tear out of the corner of her eye. “Oh my GOD, that was priceless… don’t worry, I was just busting your balls.”

  I grinned in spite of myself. “Not cool.”

  “I know – I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I saw my entire career flash before my eyes.”

  “Don’t worry, I get in trouble with HR all the time, and they still haven’t fired me.”

  “You get in trouble with HR? Doing what?”

  “It’s all the giant penis pictures I post in my cubicle.”

  I stared at her. “…uhhhh… what?”

  She laughed again. “All the dweebs in my department keep putting up pictures of giant tits and perfect asses they’ve rendered on the compositor – orc ass, elf tits – oh, and LOTS of shots of Alaria.”

  “What?!” I exclaimed, and got a little pissed.

  Stupid, I know. I mean, Alaria was a character in a videogame. But it felt like the equivalent of guys ogling naked pictures of your girlfriend on the internet.

  Probably more than ogling, actually.

  Ewwww.

  “She’s a hot succubus who gets naked all the time,” she said in a I hate to break it to you kind of voice. “People are gonna look.”

  Then she straightened up and returned to her normal voice. “And I get tired of it, so I put up pictures of giant penises I render. Orc schlongs, elf dicks, you name it. Always super-sized. Makes the dweebs all butt-hurt.”

  “Art department?” I asked.

  She gestured to her get-up and gave me an Are you fucking kidding? look. “No – accounting.”

  I chuckled. “Touché.”

  “It raises an interesting question, though, doesn’t it?”

  “What’s that?”

  “In a company where a major portion of their profits derive from fucking… and they have an entire department devoted to writing about fucking… and creating art about fucking… and programming said fucking… how bad do you have to be to actually get hauled into HR for sexual harassment?”

  “Apparently posting pictures of giant orc dong will do it.”

  “Touché yourself. Actually, don’t. Touché is French for ‘touch,’ so – ”

  “Yeah, I got the joke,” I said with a sardonic grin.

  “Good. That’d land you in real hot water with HR if you started ‘touché-ing’ yourself right here in front of me.”

  “I’m sure it would.”

  “Be kind of hot, though,” she said as she bit into a French fry.

  Was this art nerd girl… hitting on me?

  “Just kidding,” she said. “If you started touché-ing yourself here, it’d be kinda creepy.”

  “I’ll keep it in the game,” I said with a narrowed-eye, That’s a good idea kind of look.

  “So disappointing,” she said, deadpan. “You’re way more strait-laced than your online adventures.”

  “Yeah, well, fantasy versus reality.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she sighed. “At least they’ve fixed the female orgasm problem.”

  I almost choked on my food.

  “…the… what?”

  “The female orgasm problem. I don’t know if you know this or not, seeing as you primarily bang digital women now, but it’s harder for a woman to get off in the real world than in Other
World.”

  “I… uh… yes, I’ve seen from my real-world experience – ”

  “Such that it is,” she joked.

  “ – such that it is, that, yes, it’s far easier to make a woman… um… help her… reach orgasm in OtherWorld.”

  “‘Help a woman reach orgasm,’” she said with a snort. “What are you, a grandpa teaching sex-ed? You can say ‘make her come.’”

  “Um…”

  She leaned over and whispered loudly, “You can say it, Ian. HR’s not gonna jump out of the shadows. It’s harder to make a chick come in the real world. Say it. Saaaaaaay it.”

  I shifted in my seat.

  Partially because I was uncomfortable –

  But also because I was kind of getting turned on.

  Suddenly she winced. “I’m sorry – am I oversharing? My therapist says I tend to do that. See, you didn’t need to know I’m seeing a therapist. Oversharing.”

  “It’s – yes, you kind of are, but I find it endearing.”

  “Oh, well, as long as you find it endearing,” she said with that playful sarcasm.

  “And kind of hot,” I said, attempting to flirt.

  “Not as hot as me touché-ing myself, I’ll bet,” she said as she bit into another French fry.

  “True. Did they base Alaria on you, by any chance?” I joked.

  She gestured to her chest, which was much more B-cup than triple F. “No.”

  I laughed. “I meant your personality.”

  “Why, cuz of all the sex talk?”

  “That, and you’re also very outgoing. And uninhibited.”

  “None of the art department dweebs talk to me all day long, so unfortunately you’re the one getting the gusher.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s unfortunate.”

  “You don’t mind the term ‘gusher,’ though?”

  “What, ‘oil well’?”

  Actually, I hadn’t thought ‘oil well’ at all. She’d said it in such a way – raised eyebrow, half-lidded eyes, naughty smirk – that I knew she was talking about female ejaculation.

  She smirked some more. “That’s not how I meant it.”

  “Then it might be a bit much.”

  “Noted. You gonna turn me into HR?” she asked, obviously joking.