The Gentleman Incubus
Page 18
Annie noticed none of this though, because she leaned in closer to Glenn, eyes smoldering with desire. “And I want my toy back—my favorite toy, actually. And this time, nobody’s going to get in my way…”
She shoved him down then, pinning him roughly unto the couch with one hand as she crawled on top of him. Something clicked in Glenn’s mind, something old and familiar. His eyes glazed over, and Annie the woman, the human, was gone. Only the Mistress sat atop him now, straddling his stomach and grinning maliciously down at him.
The skin that she wore this time was a haughty one, finding pleasure in exerting her dominance. He recognized the submissive role that she wanted him to play, and he acquiesced to her will.
The Mistress licked her lips in anticipation, tracing a finger down his chest. “Mmm. It’s been too long since I played.” She inhaled deeply, grinding her groin on his abdomen as she tugged at a button holding his shirt in place. “Too many risks, too many dangers for Anastasia to manage, when Annie only wants to just get down and play.”
She tugged harder, undoing two buttons with a loud pop as the threads connecting them snapped. Glenn just lay down on the couch, his steady breathing the only compromise to movement.
“Anastasia Rutledge is too big a name, too tempting a target, for her to let her guard down. She couldn’t find new toys to play with, not when her siblings would do anything to dig up dirt to topple her from power. A honey trap here, a paid informant there, and they’ll get the dirt they need to start ousting me from my throne.”
She leaned in, breathing harder and harder as she whispered into his ears. “But Annie Rafters… Annie Rafters knows you, Roger Hill. She knew you before she died and became Anastasia Rutledge… which means you’re a safe toy to play with.”
She leaned in and bit him on the shoulder, hard and sharp enough to draw blood. Glenn rolled his eyes back in his head, grunting in both pain and pleasure as he reveled in the Mistress’ games. She pinned his arms down, keeping him locked in place as she continued. His lip, his cheek, his nipple… she kept marking him as her own, her breath hitching with excitement.
The Mistress finally leaned up, licking the blood and saliva that settled on her lips.
“You still remember what I like…bitch?”
Glenn froze for a moment as memories clashed with one another. One set of memories showed a gangly boy shoving his face into a young girl’s crotch, fighting back tears of humiliation as she sneered at him. Another set of memories showed himself tied down to a bed, his arms and legs drawn tight like he was about to be quartered. The Mistress wearing her new skin held a bloodied scalpel in her fingers, eyes gleaming with lust as she flecked away bits of skin and muscle. He would scream in agony while writhing in ecstasy, the Mistress inflicting both in equal measure.
Glenn shivered, the dissonant memories merging into a more cohesive and logical sequence of events. The Mistress in her current skin had shimmied higher up, presenting her groin as it radiated heat and moisture through the flimsy undergarment covering her sex. She pressed her entire weight down on his face and promptly moaned in pleasure as Glenn began servicing her.
Hazy memories blended into one another, creating new ones that he drew experience from. He craned his neck up, inhaling the scent of the Mistress’ skin, and nudged closer to the orifice before him. He flicked his tongue out, tracing and teasing the fabric above her swollen lips. He followed the contours of those lips with his tongue, applying pressure evenly as he worked.
The Mistress in her current skin sighed and closed her eyes in pleasure as she put even more of her weight upon Glenn’s face. He wrapped his arms around the base of her spine, almost mashing his face upon her sex as he shifted his focus toward the flesh folds around her bud. The Mistress inhaled sharply in surprise before bucking against his face. Sensing her mounting need, Glenn shifted his tongue so that it lay directly upon her bud, wrapping it in the soft, raspy sheath of the appendage.
The Mistress didn’t even bother using words to express herself. Sharp intakes of breath and hiccups of surprise were all that she could muster in the heat of the moment. He kept right at it, maintaining the pace that caused her to grit her teeth and buck her hips with even greater urgency.
She pulsed once, twice, and then went on to shake violently as she found herself pushed over the edge. She gasped while her legs shivered and went limp, the pleasure mounting higher and higher. She shut her eyes tight as she rode the wave, panting helplessly as ecstasy consumed her entire world. She noticed nothing around her, not the ripping of cloth or the shifting of bone and muscle, as the white bliss of a hot orgasm cut her away from her surroundings.
She finally collapsed bonelessly upon the couch, spent and exhausted from the encounter as Glenn’s face remained buried within her snatch.
“Heh… hehe… damn. I forgot how much fun it was to ride your face. I—what the FUCK!?”
The Mistress reared back, ecstasy giving way to shock as she leaped away from him.
Glenn sat up and craned his neck, his muscles straining to balance the weight of the bovine horns jutting from his temples. He leaned against the two appendages protruding from his back, carrying his weight and providing support as he pushed himself up. He set aside his spade-tipped tail, shifted his elongated member so he could sit up properly.
He sat there, intending to wait for the Mistress to use him as she saw fit. The woman in front of him, however, recovered her wits and jumped further away—brassiere-covered breasts swinging freely from her open blouse. She scrambled toward a nearby dresser, fumbled with the lock, and pulled out a handgun which she pointed at Glenn in a smooth, well-practiced stance.
Glenn simply cocked his head, confused with the Mistress’ displeasure. Did he do something wrong? Did he break the mold of the character he was supposed to play tonight? Did he do something that went against the sensibilities of the Mistress’ current skin? He was still pondering his potential mistake when a line of text popped up in the bottom of his vision.
Ynnistoria: