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I do not have underwear on beneath.
“A surprising beauty, I see,” he rumbles. Like most people, he must have thought I was a girl until presented with my cock. He doesn’t touch me though, other than having undressed me. “How exquisite. Be you mistress or master or otherwise, you are equally as radiant for all your desire pulsating. I would like to taste it,” he says with hot breath on my balls.
The story is real. He’s an incubus.
How the fuck is the story real?
“Please, grant me permission,” he says. “Desire sustains me, and I have been starved for so long. I will offer you unknown pleasures if you say the word… yes.”
I shudder. He’s not even doing anything, but his breath, his nearness, with my ass and balls and cock exposed to him has me throbbing.
“If I harmed you making my escape, forgive me.” He reaches around my throat to gently caress the scratches. “I was desperate, crazed for the taste of freedom. Let me taste you to make up for it, and you will never know harm from me again.”
He has an accent, I think, but it’s so subtle, I can’t place it. My neck doesn’t hurt. The scratches are surface-level, and who wouldn’t be crazed after being walled up for… over a century? Holy shit. This is too surreal.
But I kind of want to say yes.
“Wh-what… would you take from me?” I ask, peering over my shoulder again and struck by how gorgeous he is, his purple-black face like the sky right before the sun finishes setting. “My soul?”
His laughter reverberates through my cock with his face and breath still right by it. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re an incubus.”
“Incubus?” He tilts his head, and his golden horns glimmer with reflections from the minimal light. “Perhaps. I have been called daeva, demon, djinn. But it is not your soul I want, nor can I take it. I serve you and your desires should you bear my amulet and choose to free me.”
He seems to strain to get closer to me, and I hear the rattle of chains.
When I look more carefully, I can see them on his wrists and ankles, leading back behind the wall where he came from. He can’t get closer to me. If I get up and run, I can get away.
But the heave of his toned chest, and the forked—actually forked—tongue that flicks over his lips, has me considering the crazy option.
“Please, a demonstration if you doubt me,” he says. “No contract yet, just a taste to ease my hunger and loneliness. Please. May I?”
I think I might be hard enough to be dripping onto the dirty ground.
My knees are literally in smeared dirt on the cracked stone slabs of the underground’s floor. The presence of the incubus behind me with me exposed, prostrate, and helpless, yet with him asking permission has me so needy for what I haven’t felt in so long that I rock my hips toward him and say the impossible.
“Yes.”
His forked tongue feels incredible when it tickles my hole. It licks and licks, and then moves to curl around my balls like fingers or a prehensile tail.
His tail, I think it’s a tail, hooks into my bloomers to pull them the rest of the way down, while his hands grip my ass to spread my cheeks apart.
“Oh fuck.”
He keeps licking and teases the tip of his tongue inside me. The thin tips give way to a normal tongue’s girth as he pushes inside, but it’s when he licks down and around my balls again, and finally, down the length of my shaft to my dripping slit that I moan and pound the ground with my fist.
Worth it.
“I would like to better look at you,” he says. “Might I turn you, mistress? Master? Beautiful one?”
I laugh a little hysterically. “I-I like that last one.”
“Then come to me, my beauty.” He takes hold of my hips and flips me without my back hitting the ground but gently sets me down again. I’m sprawled beneath him, bloomers at my ankles, skirt hiked, while the rest of me must look like a flushing mess, harlot on a romance cover for real, holy shit.
I wish I could see myself like this.
I can see him, so clearly now. He’s like if Goliath from that old Gargoyles cartoon had shorter hair and horns. There is no undergarment for him either besides the loincloth, and I can see the heavy shadow of a cock twitching through the fabric. That shadow makes it look huge, but I don’t have time to wonder what it looks like, or what it might feel like, because he tips me backward with both arms under my knees.
