Succubus Inquisition Ch. 00

The velvet sheath squeezed and slid along this length. Faster, harder. Then it would stop, keeping him guessing.

<i> "No more fighting, you want this, don't you?" </i>

He moaned and mumbled, sounded reall close to a yes. Her smirk grew wider. He leaned in slightly, body shaking.

<i> "So soon? Out of practice, are we?" </i>

He cried out as it started, doomed from the very beginning. Only her tail tightened, painfully. He cried out again, for another reason. His member throbbed and twitched angrily. Without finishing his lust rose higher, her tail sped up, thrusting harder.

<i> "You're going to love this, don't worry." </i>

She licked his lips and he lunged forward, attacking her mouth with his. She squealed with delight as she kissed back, bringing her left hand to the back of his head, pulling him harder into her.

His body spasmed past the edge a second time. Her tail tightened around his base once again, and he screamed into her lips. Her hot breath poured pure lust into his lungs, driving him crazier. All the while their eyes never broke contact. His had glazed over long ago as he approached another orgasm.

She broke the kiss again and whispered with mischief.

<i> "Dream of me, my pet." </i>

His body couldn't take anymore as it convulsed violently. Pure sinful pleasure exploded between his legs as his dick climaxed yet again. Only this time she didn't tighten her coils, instead undulating them along this length. The spade tip's velvet mouth stopped thrusting and squeezed, swallowing every delicious drop. It felt like an eternity before his orgasm ended.

Against all odds he remained standing.

<i> "Remarkable, you're unlike anything I've ever tasted before. I want to keep you!" </i>

She moaned loudly as she savored his essence. A climax that powerful would have sent any normal man into a comma. Or at least caused by her it would. Two orgasms and somehow, she wasn't any closer to consuming his soul. Though she'd never wanted someone's soul more than right now. Her skin was glowing already. His essence was like nothing she had ever tasted.

Something else happened though, surprising even the supernatural seductress. His eyes began to glow red.

<i> "Stop, lose yourself in my eyes." </i>

She purred sexily. Yet, she didn't sense any internal struggle from the monk. For all intents and purposes, he was hers. Lost to lust and sin. His eyes kept glowing brighter. She didn't understand what was happening. And that, scared her. No mortal man had ever scared her. Despite her fear, she was intrigued.

His skin began to flush red and harden. Scales formed, and grew, as did he. Arms, legs, and neck extending slowly. While his body changed, he never blinked or broke their gaze. So, whatever was happening, he wasn't consciously doing it.

The longer his metamorphosis continued, the more she recognized it. For one such as her never forgets their worst nightmares. Panic surged through her as she let out an incredulous gasp.

<i> "I knew you were special. <b>DREAM of ME!"</b> </i>

She said with all her seductive power behind it. By now his face looked more reptilian, mouth lined with razor sharp teeth.

<i> "Wake now, my pet." </i>

She tapped him between the eyes and his glowing orbs winked out, returning to green.

~*~

Yshomatsu woke with a start, covered in sweat, gasping for air.

What in the world was that? Ysho had never felt fear or lust like that before. He sat up in bed shaking. Every shadow jumped out to grab him. He started to hyperventilate as the room closed in on him.

It took him a while to calm down. He realized where he was, back in his room. The dream had shaken him to the core. It had felt so real. But it couldn't have been. He had started to morph into something at the end.

Everything from his clothing to his sheets were soaked with sweat. He hadn't even noticed until he felt the chill run up his spine. Quickly, he rose and disrobed. With a new set of under robes he set out to change his sheets.

One of his magic wards started to buzz. He had placed quite a few of them; and each would alert him to a different type of intruder. While others kept things out. For humans he had one that would make them confused and forget their reason for engine his run-down shack above ground.

The ward that was buzzing now let him know a messenger raven awaited him.

He tilted his head in confusion. His order didn't use birds anymore. After discovering the dream state, they had no reason to retain the primitive form of communication.

The ageless monk made his way up the ladder entrance to his home. Dispelling the sand magics with a flick of his wrist. Once the powerful gusts of wind died down, he opened the hatch and climbed out into the run-down shack.

A black raven sat on the lone table tilting its head at Yshomatsu. It crowed once and hopped towards him. A parchment had been wrapped up and attached to its leg. How uncivilized.

<I> Monks have been found asleep in various stages of decay. We can't wake them up. Everyone is afraid to use the dream state. Please help us, end your self-imposed exile.

~ Zoticus</I>

Yshomatsu stares at the parchment in incredulity. It couldn't be a coincidence, the dream, now this? If the dream had been real...how could he explain the transformation? Despite his disbelief, he couldn't ignore a plea for aid by the order's elder himself.

While his research was important, it could wait. Perhaps it was all connected. He had started to feel a strange presence. A tug on his mind he couldn't explain. He exiled himself to try and find answers. What if the answers had found him first?

In the twisted dream he had walked in blind, unprepared. He wouldn't make that mistake willingly. There had to be a book in his possession that would be of assistance. He rolled up the note and placed it in a pocket.

The raven hopped onto the monk's shoulder as he climbed down the ladder and closed the hatch. With his mind occupied he didn't bother activating the sand spell.

With a determined focus he headed for the library. Making a quick stop in the kitchen to feed the raven.

During his self-imposed exile Yshomatsu sought answers to explain his extended life and why he felt the woman, like a persistent thorn on his mind. As he entered the impressive room filled with books the torches flared to life.

He had one book in mind. A book he had found over a hundred years ago, about demons. A collective force, humans neither understood nor knew much about.

After a few hours of searching he came to the leather-bound book he sought. Flipping through the pages describing many different demons he finally came to the section covering one that sounded like what he saw in his dream. A type that were physically weaker than others. The first demon listed in the section was the succubus. Bold writing at the top stated, <B>"Though the succubus is one of the weakest demons known to man, she is also perhaps the most dangerous."</B> It went on to detail how the demon never needed to fight due to the fact that no mortal could resist her charms.

A sick feeling filled his gut. His dream made sense now; given how easy it was to fall under the succubus' spell. Determined to find a way to defeat her quickly, he kept reading.

The pages were filled with details of how the demon feeds on the human soul through sexual acts. It even showed pictures which—unbeknownst to Yshomatsu—combined with the memory of his dream was causing a reaction within his robes. He began to touch himself while staring at a portrait of a succubus' face.

A few moments went by before a moan escaped his mouth. Shocked by his unconscious actions he shook his head to clear his thoughts. The monk worried how easily this creature might tempt him again. For it attacked a man's weakest, vulnerable side. He rubbed his eyes and continued to read. The book detailed, once a succubus haunts someone; the only way to purge it is to summon and banish it. Something felt fishy about that part. The book didn't go into much detail regarding the banishing. It focused on the summoning, and in the back of Yshomatsu's mind he sensed a trap.

Hoping it wouldn't come to that, Ysho put the book aside. He was determined to practice a few binding spells before entering the Dream World.

With his mind made up the monk wrote a reply, rolled it up, and attached it to the raven's leg. He set it loose outside and watched as the black form slowly faded from sight. Ysho felt reluctant but resigned to his duty. It couldn't all be a coincidence. The strange presence and tug on his mind. Then the dream and now the cry for help?

It had to be connected to his long life and strange powers. Deep down he wished he had all the answers. What had happened to him and his young apprentice that fateful day over a hundred years ago?

What dark power granted him ever lasting life, quick reflexes and unnatural healing? The thought troubled him more than ever. If only he could remember!

Later after growing bored with the limited details in his books he decided to train.

Yshomatsu's workout room was filled with the sounds of warfare. Pieces of dummies scattered all over the room. His body spun in the air, and his staff moved so quickly it appeared as though a shield was formed around the monk. Martial arts mixed with spells gave him the tools he would need to fight the demon from his dream. Or so he hoped.

Many hours later he slept, exhausted. Luckily no dreams came to him that night.

In the morning his journey to the old cave in his dream would begin. The trip would take him past a few villages until he reached the mountains in the east.

When he exiled himself to his desert home the surrounding lands were under attack by the Horadric Legion. A kingdom from the southren jungles seeking to expand their territories.

Yshomatsu would travel at night to avoid possible interaction with soldiers in the area. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself. Especially if they were already on edge and eager for a fight.

One of his new abilities—that frightened people—allowed him to see at night. A form of night vision. His green eyes would glow brighter until they appeared to be smoking.

Out in the middle of nowhere he enjoyed the ability. Yet when he closed in on civilization, he would wrap a thin cloth tightly around his eyes. It forced him to reach out with his other senses. A worthy skill the monk order taught to all their students. It was used to prevent their eyes from playing tricks on them in the dark.

He felt relieved knowing he could walk around blind folded without scaring people with his glowing eyes.

He traveled for two days before seeing civilization. The desert sands slowly turned to fields or grass. Then plantations and crops with buildings scattered about. It wouldn't be long before he had to pass through a village. He'd restock his supplies for the remainder of his journey.

The few people he saw regarded him with wary glances. Some where quick to close their doors or windows. So, things were still uneasy for the common folk? Perhaps the war never ended. Ysho kept his hooded cloak over his face, looking down. Armed with only a staff he wished to look like a traveler, not a bandit.

He walked at a brisk pace hoping to avoid any confrontations.

When the sun set behind him, he placed the blindfold over his eyes and took a deep breath. He had made it to the main road leading towards the village. All he had to do was keep walking, keeping the crops to his right.

Knowing there could be someone watching him at any given moment he used his staff like a walking stick.

A feint sound reached his ears from further down the road. It took him a moment to recognize it for the echoing patter of horses. They were approaching him fast. Yet, not at a sprint.

~*~

An armored man pulled himself onto his horse. Reports had come in that a strange man was heading for the village. Sir Drake as his men called him wanted to meet this man before he could cause any trouble.

The knight had been placed in command over the surrounding area and told to keep the peace. The Horadric Legion has conquered the land and were still meeting resistance.

The people weren't loyal subjects yet, but they would be soon enough. Drake and his men weren't afraid to get their hands dirty when times called for it.

A random, lone person hardly represented a threat. However, he could be a spy. Sent to scout the area. Who knew?

So, the knight and his men rode their horses out to meet him.

With nightfall quickly approaching he instructed a few of his men to bring torches. They galloped due west down the main road looking for a lone walker. They rode with a thirst for battle. It had been quite some time since their last encounter.

The knight and his men were restless. A group of men used to fighting weren't comfortable stationed at a small village.

When they spotted the stranger, Sir Drake wasn't surprised when he ducked for cover. The sun had all but set, leave an orange streak across the sky. Just enough light to see the man briefly before he hid from them. Drake chuckled with contempt. It appeared they had a troublemaker on their hands.

The type of person that hides from the village guards were the type he didn't want visiting. His men lit the torches as they approached the man's last known location. His heart raced with excitement. They'd have some fun to blow off steam tonight!

"Spread out men," the knight called out. His men unsheathed their blades while fanning out in a wider formation. Two of them dismounted their horses before pulling their weapons from their hips.

Sir Drake's horse stomped upon the ground, eager to be on the move again. A storm was forming overhead, rain slowly started to fall. Soon the dirt road would turn to mud. The men drew closer to the man's hiding spot.

Once they passed by him he began to slowly move on. But a lone stone under his foot gave way.

The stone echoed as it rolled, just loud enough for the closest soldier to hear it.

"Get him," the armored knight cried out. He watched in horror as the man moved like a blur painted on the horizon. Dressed like a peaceful monk with a staff Drake hadn't expected to see such skill.

One by one the man knocked out all of his men. Their horses fled for the village. Not even one of his men had come close to striking the robed man. And they had swords against a staff!

Drake's horse began moving nervously as the robed man stepped back into the road. The area was lit by the flickering fires of dropped torches, creating dancing shadows all around them.

The man slowly approached the Drake, staff tucked under his armpit.

"I don't know who you are, but I can't let you pass," the knight said, voice crackling.

The man's hood had been blown off by the storm's wind, revealing his blindfold.

Lightning struck, providing Drake with a clear view of the man before him. He was shocked to see that a blindfolded man had defeated his entire squad. The man didn't stop slowly moving forward.

"Very well," the knight said as he grabbed his sword and kicked his horse to charge forward.

The robed man rolled to his left at the last possible moment, avoiding the downward thrust of the blade. Swinging his staff backwards once he was back on his feet, he smacked it into the horses' back legs, causing them to buckle and lower the horse's hindquarters to the ground. The knight slid off and rolled in the mud as his horse ran away, more frightened than hurt.

Now covered in mud, Drake rose to his feet and turned towards the monk who was now spinning his staff in a figure eight. The knight couldn't fathom how a blinded man could move so quickly. Pushing all thoughts to the back of his mind he charged forward. The armor created loud noises that easily gave away his position.

Determined to run him through Drake attacked with rage. Yet, the man dodged swing after swing of the knight's sword until finally one came too close. The very tip cut into the side of the man's forehead, slashing the blindfold. Stumbling back from the blow, eyes blinking fast trying to adjust to the slight but noticeable light difference. His body reacted which caused his eyes to glow bright green as he returned to a defensive stance.

Sir Drake was blinded by the man's bright eyes, throwing off his next attack. The monk used this time to strike a blow to his upper chest. Followed by a low cut behind his knees, sending the knight down into the mud, coughing for air.

The many years of combining Martial arts with magic had molded the monk's body into the perfect weapon; able to perform acts like second nature that others could only dream of.

By the time Drake recovered the strange man was long gone. All around him men were groaning as they began to wake up. Each would suffer a headache for the rest of the night. He couldn't get the seared image of the man's bright eyes out of his mind. He made sure each man was alright before they all stumbled back towards the village.

Drake was determined to confront the robed man again. One of the horses hadn't run completely back. So, Drake sent one of his men to retrieve reinforcements and meet him back at the village.

~*~

Yshomatsu tilted his head as the horses rode towards him. He listened to the echoing sounds. They weren't casually riding out to greet a wanderer. They were moving fast, almost as if eager for a fight. He didn't like the thought of that.

Thinking it would be best to avoid them all together he ducked off the path. When his ears heard a feint chuckle his heart fell. He didn't act soon enough. Since they saw him, he most likely caused more trouble for himself by hiding than he would have by greeting them.

"Spread out men."

Ysho winced when he heard swords drawn. He stayed down low, listening to their heart beats.

Having no other choice Yshomatsu acted. With his eyes closed he focused on the air around him. The sounds they made in their loud armor. The grunts before each swing.

One by one he slammed his staff into key points. Before long he stood alone without breaking a sweat.

Ysho took a step onto the road and heard the first man to speak. So, he had stayed back and watched his men fall. The energy he felt blasting off the man in waves didn't calm his nerves. This man loved to fight.

He had tried to avoid confrontations for a reason. They served no purpose for one such as him. Setting his abilities, a side the realms of man didn't interest any monk. They sought only to protect the world from unnatural threats.

Let mankind do as they pleased with their short lives. The monks just wanted them to have that chance. Rather than be subjects to other worldly beings.

Yshomatsu knocked the man off his horse. Sending him into the mud. Furious the man struck out blows that were easily dodged until one sliced the side of his face.

More shocked than hurt he stood there with eyes opened wide, blindfold sliding free. The darkness flashed to green as he watched the armored man's fright. Stunned and blinded the man kept swinging.

Ysho stepped to the side, struck the man's breastplate, then behind the knees. Now that he was down for the count the monk resumed his journey.

He could have handled that a lot better. Nothing like pissing off the local populace and endangering your mission.

When he reached the village Ysho decided not to stop. Instead he kept walking. He'd have to go slightly out of his way for supplies. But he figured it would be safer. He didn't need the armored men finding him so easily, pissed, and out for blood.