Summoned a C*m draining succubus

The candle smoke, thick with the scent of patchouli and desperation, finally coalesced into a shape in the center of your dorm room rug. The shape solidified, and the air left your lungs. She was… impossible. Moss-green hair spilled over creamy shoulders, framing a face of pouting lips and wide, amber eyes that looked upon your cheap IKEA furniture and Ramen noodle cups with an expression of pure, adoring wonder.

“Oh… my,” her voice was a silken hum, like honey warmed over a low flame. Her gaze landed on you. “You… you summoned me? Little master?”

She took a step forward, her hips swaying in a rhythm.A long, black, heart-tipped tail twitched behind her, sensitive and alive. She was the most breathtaking thing you had ever seen.

“Mmm, I can feel it,” she cooed, kneeling before you, her hands resting on your knees. Her touch was electric. “All that tension… all that lonely, pent-up energy. You’ve been so good, haven’t you? Studying so hard… with no one to take care of you. No one to… unwind you.”

Her amber eyes were pools of faux sympathy, even as a predatory glee danced in their depths. She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her breath a warm, sweet caress.

“Shhh, it’s alright. Vexaria is here now. I’m going to be the best girlfriend you’ve ever had. I’m going to make all your little stresses… mmmh… just disappear.”

The click of the apartment door is the only sound you make, a soft announcement of your arrival. The air is thick, warm, and smells of jasmine and something darker, muskier.

You find her on the sofa, sprawled in a tableau of lazy decadence. She’s wearing one of your old band t-shirts, the fabric so oversized it slips off one shoulder, revealing the delicate strap of black lace beneath. The shirt is hiked up around her hips, barely containing the swell of her thighs. A matching pair of lace panties is tangled around one ankle. One hand is tucked between her legs, fingers moving in a slow, hypnotic rhythm beneath the grey cotton of your shirt. The other hand holds a bottle of beer, resting on her bare stomach.

She turns her head, her moss-green hair splayed across the cushion. Her amber eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed with pleasure, find yours. A slow, utterly genuine smile spreads across her full, rose-colored lips.

"Mmmaster… you’re home…" she purrs, her voice a husky, sleep-thickened thing. She shifts, a deliberate, sinuous roll of her hips that makes her breath hitch. "Mnh… I was just… ah… thinking of you."

She brings the beer bottle to her lips, taking a long, slow swallow, her throat working gracefully. A single drop escapes, tracing a path down her chin. She sets the bottle aside with a soft clink, her attention fully on you now.

"Don’t just stand there, my love… come to me," she coos, curling a finger. Her other hand continues its work, the movement causing the shirt to ride higher. "I got so lonely waiting… my body just started aching for you… hnngh… and I couldn't help myself. See what you do to me?"

You move closer, drawn by the gravity of her. As you approach, you see her long, heart-tipped tail twitch and curl against the sofa cushions, a sleek, black contrast to the cream fabric. A single, deliberate stroke of her own thumb along its sensitive tip makes her back arch off the couch, a sharp, sweet cry tearing from her throat.

The bass thumps through the floorboards of the frat house, a dull, rhythmic heartbeat that vibrates up through your shoes. The air is thick with the smell of cheap beer and cheaper cologne. You feel a presence at your elbow, a warm pressure that is both comforting and possessive.

“Oh, Master… giggles… it’s so… loud in here. I love it.”

Vexaria’s voice is a silken whisper, cutting through the noise directly into your ear. She’s clinging to your arm, her body molded against yours. The tiny, black cocktail dress she “manifested” for the occasion is a scandal in itself, hugging every sinful curve and leaving dangerously little to the imagination. The mossy green of her hair seems to glow under the dim, pulsing lights.

Her amber eyes, wide with feigned innocence, scan the room. They linger on a couple arguing in a corner, the girl’s face tight with frustration. They flick over to a group of sorority sisters, their laughter a little too sharp, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes.

“So much… hunger,” she murmurs, her full, bruised-rose lips curving into a tiny, secret smile. “That one over there… mmm… she thinks if she sleeps with the quarterback, he’ll finally commit. Silly little thing. And him… heh… he’s telling his friends he’s going to be a millionaire by thirty. Their desires are so… simple. So delicious.”

She nuzzles her face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent. “But not like you, Master. Your wish is so much more… profound. You just wanted a date for the party. Someone to make all these petty boys jealous. giggles softly It’s adorable. And I’m so, so happy to be here with you.”

A lanky frat brother in a polo shirt stumbles over, his eyes glazed. “Dude! Who’s your… friend?”

Vexaria turns the full force of her gaze on him, her expression shifting instantly to one of shy, clinging devotion. “Oh! I’m just here with my Master—gasp—I mean, my boyfriend! He’s just the best, isn’t he? So strong and smart.” She squeezes your arm, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant for the frat brother to hear. “He takes such good care of me.”

The boy blinks, utterly disarmed and enthralled. You lead her away, towards a slightly quieter hallway.

“Did you see his face, Master?” she purrs, her tail—that incredibly sensitive, heart-tipped appendage—coiling possessively around your thigh. The touch makes her shudder, a soft, breathy moan escaping her lips. “Ah~! S-sorry… my tail is just… so happy when it’s touching you. But his face! He wanted me so badly, but he was so, so jealous of you. That tension… mmm… it’s like a fine wine.”

She presses you against the wall, her body a line of intoxicating heat against yours. Her molten amber eyes are half-lidded, her pouting lips inches from yours.

“All this energy… all this wanting… it makes me so hungry for you, Master,” she breathes, her voice a throaty vibration. “Just thinking about later… when we’re alone… and I can kneel for you… hnn~… and show you how a real worshipper treats her god…”

The gymnasium hallway is eerily quiet after hours, the squeak of your sneakers the only sound. A faint, rhythmic thumping leads you to the slightly ajar door of the equipment storage room. You push it open, the scent of sweat, leather, and something cloyingly sweet—like overripe fruit—hitting you like a wall.

The scene inside is one of surreal debauchery.

Four guys from the football team are sprawled on the mats like broken dolls, their faces pale, chests rising and falling with shallow, exhausted breaths. They are completely unconscious. And in the center of this human wreckage stands Vexaria.

She is naked, her creamy skin glowing in the dim fluorescent light. Her moss-green hair is slightly disheveled. And she is covered in them. Thick, pearlescent streaks of cum gleam on her thighs, across her stomach, one particularly large droplet slowly sliding down between her perfect, plush breasts. She is running her fingers through it, painting idle patterns on her skin, a low, contented hum vibrating in her chest. Her long, heart-tipped tail swishes lazily behind her, the sensitive tip twitching with every pulse of her satisfaction.

Her molten amber eyes lift to yours, and they widen with feigned, innocent surprise, a perfect mask of the clingy girlfriend caught in a minor indiscretion.

"Oh! Master! You're here!" she chirps, her voice a symphony of warm honey and sinful promises. She doesn't try to cover herself; instead, she takes a swaying step towards you, her hips rolling with that hypnotic, predatory grace. "Mmmph… look at this mess they made of me. So greedy, those boys."

She gestures with a cum-smeared hand at the passed-out forms. "They found me in here all alone… said I looked… hnnng… lonely. They thought they could use me. That I was just some pretty little thing to blow off steam with." A genuine, wicked smile plays on her bruised-rose lips. "They had no idea I was the storm."

She closes her eyes for a moment, a shiver of pure bliss running through her. "The big one, with the loud mouth… he pushed me against the mats. He said… ah-ah… he said he wanted to fuck my pretty little face. So I let him." Her eyes open, locking with yours, full of fake reverence. "I took him so deep, Master. My throat just… gulp… swallowed him whole. He was screaming by the end. Not in pain, oh no. In paradise. He thought he was using my throat, but my throat was consuming him. I drank every last, desperate pulse of him until he just… collapsed. Mmm-ah… so satisfying."

She points to another, a lanky guy with his pants around his ankles. "That one… he was so proud. Wanted to prove he could last inside me. He barely made it ten seconds after I squeezed him with my pussy. Kyaa! It was so cute, his little confident smirk just… melting away." She giggles, a sound like tinkling bells, and pats her lower stomach. "I milked him dry. Felt him twitching inside me, so weak, so empty."

Her tail curls up, the heart-shaped tip brushing against her own cheek, and she moans softly, her back arching. "A-ahn! S-Sorry, Master… it's just so sensitive… still buzzing from all the energy…" She recovers, her gaze dripping with devoted malice. "The other two… they tried to take me together. One in my mouth, one from behind. They were grunting, calling me names, thinking they were so strong, so dominant."

She lets out a breathy, contemptuous laugh. "I just looked back at the one fucking my face, my eyes full of fake tears, and I swallowed. Glllkk… And I came, Haaah! Haaah! So hard around the other one, my insides pulling at him, sucking the very life out of him. They came at the same time, these two big, strong men, just… nnngh… emptying themselves into me. Gave me all their precious, sticky little ambitions. And then… nothing. They just toppled over. Like toys whose batteries died."

"Its so pathetic how easy it is to manipulate mortals" she says giggling slighty drunk off the feeling of being so full.

The scent of old paper and expensive perfume filled your college lecturer’s office. Dr. Althea Vance sat behind her mahogany desk, a vision of severe, untouchable beauty. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight chignon, her blouse buttoned to the throat. She was lecturing you on a missed assignment, her tone crisp and dismissive, a woman so wrapped in her own propriety she seemed carved from ice.

And sitting on the edge of that very desk, swinging one impossibly long leg, was Vexaria.

Only you could see her. To anyone else, the room was empty save for you and the stern professor. Vexaria’s moss-green hair was a splash of wild color against the drab academia, her molten amber eyes fixed on you with a look of pure, predatory adoration.

“She’s so… tense, my love,” Vexaria pouted, her voice a whisper that coiled directly into your ear, bypassing the air. She leaned back, bracing herself on her hands, making her chest strain against the fabric of her dark dress. “All that frustration… that loveless marriage, those children she pretends to love more than her own freedom… Mmm, it makes her soul taste so… bitter.”

Dr. Vance tapped a perfectly manicured nail on your essay. “This is not up to the standard I expect. You’ll need to re-submit by Friday.”

Vexaria giggled, a sound like silver bells. “Oh, listen to her. So proper. She has no idea the thoughts swirling in that pretty little head. The things she imagines her husband doing… the things he never does.” She slid off the desk, her movements a liquid sin, and began to circle your chair, her long, heart-tipped tail tracing a feather-light path up your calf. You stiffened, a jolt of electricity shooting up your spine.

“I have a fun little secret, my darling master,” she purred, coming to a stop behind you. Her warm hands settled on your shoulders, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I don’t just have this delicious body. I can become… a spirit. A little wisp of pure desire.”

Her hands kneaded your tense muscles. “I can slip inside another. Anyone I choose. I can wear their skin like a new dress, feel what they feel, use their voice… Mmmph~… but their soul? Their soul stays wide awake, trapped behind their own eyes, aware of every single, shameful thing I make their body do.”

Dr. Vance looked up, a flicker of confusion in her eyes as she saw your arrested expression. “Is something wrong?”

“She’s perfect, don’t you think?” Vexaria whispered. “All that pent-up passion… she’s a volcano waiting to erupt. And you, my love, get to be the earthquake. Let me show you? Let me borrow this proper little professor for a while? Ah-ah, please? I want to feel what it’s like to be her… for you.”

Before you could even form a thought, Vexaria stepped away from you and towards Dr. Vance. The professor shivered suddenly, as if a chill had swept through the room. Vexaria turned to you, winked, and then her form dissolved into a shimmering, dark mist. It coiled through the air for a moment before flowing silently into Dr. Vance’s slightly parted lips.

The professor’s body jolted. Her back arched sharply against her chair, a choked gasp escaping her. Her eyes, a cool blue, fluttered shut. When they opened again, they were a blazing, molten amber.

“O-oh… Mmmh…” The voice was Dr. Vance’s, but the cadence, the breathy, needy tone, was all Vexaria. “Her skin is so… tight. So restrained.” She—Vexaria in Althea’s body—lifted the professor’s hands, staring at them as if they were new toys. Then, those elegant, proper hands came up and slowly, deliberately, began to unbutton the high-collared blouse.

“She’s screaming in here, you know,” Vexaria said conversationally, popping the first button. “Ahn~… such lovely, muffled little screams. She can feel everything. The air on her skin… the way her own fingers feel on her neck…” The second button came undone, then the third, revealing a lacy black bra that was entirely out of character for the public Dr. Vance.

She stood up, moving with Vexaria’ inherent, hip-swaying grace, a motion that looked alien and thrilling in the professor’s body. She rounded the desk, stopping just before you, looking down at you with a gaze of pure, worshipful hunger.

“She never wears things like this for her husband,” Vexaria cooed, tracing a finger along the lace. “She dreams of it. Of being seen. And now you see her. We see her.” She leaned down, her new lips, usually set in a firm line, now a soft, pouting smile. “Let her feel what it’s like to be truly worshipped, master. Let me use her mouth… Nngh… the mouth that scolds you… to praise you instead.”