The Clan of the Incubi
The Incubi, and their sisters the Succubi, are possibly the least and the most frightening of the Daemon species. A full-blooded of the kind could bend the will of their victims with the use of lust and sex in any form. With powers ranging from instant orgasm to sensory explosions leading to excruciating pain, other species found them either delightful or deadly.
The worst of their power, however, is the ability to drink in the life-force of those who succumb to them. The soul's energy can be a drinking fountain for the Incubi, or a meal worthy of a king that will fill them more than any food could.
Luckily, over time, their kind had become diluted with other Daemon species. Sex was replaced by power. The ability to drink energy lost or capped with a constant leak of the energy ingested. Very rarely, an Incubi can hold onto the power fed to them for extended amounts of time, especially a child of an Incubi/Human union–though that was rare in itself.
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Shadows and light played on her face as she stared up at Rhoe, sweating heavily and breathing just as hard. He smiled down at her. The vampire looked imposing with his chest heaving at her on false breaths. Even his face appeared flushed like he still had a heart to beat. Areica knew otherwise. The smell of old blood filled the air too much to think the man in front of her lived. It made her feel sick though she did not show it.
With a raised brow and teasing smile, Rhoe kicked the sword from her hand. The shining metal glinted as the weapon skidded across the glossy wooden floor of the sparring room. Her now empty hand closed, scraping against the flooring with over-sharp nails before becoming a fist.
His own sword fell to her neck, the point taunting her to move along the visible bite marks healing on her skin. Areica's violet eyes flashed at him with more than a hint of anger–something that made him rather amused.
"You know, pet, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were fighting to kill." He said, bending down with the sword still in place, "But we were just playing, were we not?"
He'd been teaching her to protect herself and defend herself for the last few weeks. Thanks to the violent breaking of her, she remained on the protective side. During this session, he threatened such an attack again. It forced her on the offensive.
His hand wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her near. The point bit at her, but she refused to satisfy him with a scream.
"Weren't we?" he asked again, hands tightening in her curling black locks
"Yes." She spat more than said
He pulled his sword back then tossed it to the side. She whimpered, despite her will not to, as he jerked her closer to his face. Fear shot through her, just as he'd trained her to feel whenever he crossed her personal boundaries like this. Master Rhoe smiled, obviously smelling that scent of terror that he seemed to love so damn much.
"Good. I thought as much." He pulled her roughly again, but up this time, not toward, "You'd never hurt your Master Rhoe, would you?"
She swallowed her reply like a bitter pill. Yes . . . if she had the strength, he'd never see the sun set again. But she didn't say it. She was not as foolish as that. However, when no reply came, he pulled her as close as he could, closing the distance between their bodies. The move knocked her off balance. To regain some of it, her hand fell to his chest. He was cool and wet thanks to the blood she spilled with her sword. Her open palm fell in the center of the slit of blood, marring the perfect pale, white expanse of his chest.
Rhoe sucked in a breath of pain as the palm pressed into him. His hand came to her neck with claws pressing into the length of her neck. Fear grabbed her again. He had the capability to rip her throat out, and he would if it suited him.
His head threw back slightly, while his eyes fluttered. A look of ecstacy crossed his features as he dug in. Her fear was an aphrodisiac to him. His member ripened between them. Immediately, she felt ill . . . she felt numb . . .
With a graceful movement, he sat higher up on his knees until her face touched his hardness through his leather pants. His crotch grounded into her flesh as he gyrated on her. It obviously gave him a thrill. Rhoe's breath hitched then growled as the air spilled from his lungs.
Areica feared what came next. Normally, by now, Master Rhoe would have pushed her to the ground and made his way between her legs. This time, however, he just continued to rub himself on her, possessively. She couldn't hold back the whimper that crept to her throat. Rhoe rewarded her fear with a deep throated chuckle.
His free hand slipped between the meeting of their bodies. His pants fell open after a jerky movement on a leather strap hanging before them. The hard pink shaft of him sprang out of the new opening. Rhoe's hips continued to move, brushing that thing on her. It left a cool, wet line along its path.
He maneuvered himself, and her, so that her face lined up with his manhood. She looked at it, then looked to him with confusion.
"Open your mouth." He said, his voice thick with need.
She refused, shaking her head. Her jaw tightened as though she was clenching her teeth. Rhoe yanked her hair hard enough that she knew some of it ripped from her scalp. She whimpered pathetically. Tears stung her eyes.
"Open. Your. Mouth!" his voice was forceful this time, more anger than need.
Unwilling to go through such pain again, Areica did as told. Her trembling lips parted, forming an "O." Roughly, Rhoe pulled her face closer to the stiffly standing cock. He shoved her onto it, pushing that smooth, sleek thing into her mouth as far back as it could go.
She gagged which made him groan.
She choked; he laughed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks; he smiled.
He moved her head back and forth like the friction of sex and all she could do was allow it to happen submissively. She hated the sensation of the meat throbbing between her lips. Her teeth began bearing down on it.
