10. The Favor
Aleiraah
My mind reels, caught between shock and a rising tide of panic.
Isla Inkwright’s progeny has come to collect his due.
I should have known the dream about Jadeth was a bad omen. That monster wouldn’t leave me in peace, not even from beyond the veil of afterlife.
Isla was my handmaid more than two and a half centuries ago.
She was a human who grew up at the border of Mytherra.
Hers was a rare scenario: a bunch of nasty goblins had accidentally chased her family into our realm.
A group of minotaurs saved her family and her young friend who had been a tag along. Later they decided to settle here.
She was my mother’s favorite handmaid, and became my nanny when I was a toddler. Isla was always kind but cunning too. In this realm you can’t survive otherwise.
After Mother joined Father in the afterlife, Isla watched me fall for Jadeth like a young fool. She did point out that perhaps I was rushing into things but I hadn't listened.
I was adrift, drowning in grief when Jadeth Stonebriar came into my life. A strong, quiet, handsome gargoyle. Calm amid my stormy emotion-laden life. Needless to say, I was swayed by hormones and bad decisions. By the time Jadeth showed his true colors, it was too late.
Isla saved me, buying me precious moments to escape him. But she wished for a favor in return with her dying breath. I thought her family had moved back to the human realm, but it seems I was wrong?
I’ve been standing quietly for too long, lost in memories, when Rozalin gently touches my arm. I blink at her as she says, “I can ask him to come back another day. You seem tired, Aleiraah. Are you feeling okay?”
Suddenly, a bone-deep exhaustion hits me—my earlier high from the trio’s essence long faded.
“No, no.” I shake my head. “Please bring him to the blue room. I’ll see him today and get this over with.”
Rozalin studies me with a pinched expression but nods and moves to fetch Isla's heir.
Dragging my feet I head toward the blue room—a seldom-used chamber with a darker, moodier setting.
The walls are a robin’s egg blue, while velvet black sofas sit in stark contrast. It’s a far cry from the room where Ispahan is probably still enjoying post-coital glow, with its mint-green walls and cream-and-sunny-yellow divans.
Heavy midnight blue curtains swallow most of the sunlight pouring through the windows, as I take a seat on the plush armchair facing the door. The room reflects my mood perfectly.
While trying to anticipate the favor from Isla’s progeny, I realize that I’m not wearing the enchanted ‘Chain of Chastity’ which dampens my succubae allure to humans.
Hell and eternal damnation!
"I’m about to make a run for it, but the door opens and Rozalin walks in, followed by a sharp-jawed human, nearly six feet tall."
He has a thin frame, almost malnourished, and Isla’s light brown eyes and features. Kind with a hint of cunning. He’s wearing pedestrian clothes and carrying a brown satchel.
“Mistress Silvraeth.” Rozalin addresses me formally, as we’re in unfamiliar company. “This is Malakai Inkwright. He claims to be Isla Inkwright’s great-grandson. He seeks an audience, to lay claim to a favor you once bestowed upon his great-grandmother.
Malakai steps further into the room. “Greetings, Mistress Silvraeth! My name is Malakai. I’m a struggling author trying to make a name for myself in the literary world.
My mother told me about the story of my great-grandmother saving your life while”—I raise my hand, interrupting him sharply and glance at Rozalin.
“Could you give us a few moments, please? I’d like to discuss the favor owed with Mister Inkwright alone. I’ll call for you if needed, thank you.”
Rozalin hesitates to leave us alone, but with a tiny nod closes the door behind her.
I don’t wish for her to know my horrid past experiences and see me in a different light.
Even my husbands don’t know the entirety of my troubled relationship with Jadeth.
Some things better lay buried in the past. Where they belong.
There’s an immediate shift in the room’s energy, and I realize my mistake. No matter how small, her presence was acting as a barrier between my succubae allure and the human’s impulses. With her gone, I notice Malakai’s pupils double in size as he takes a few steps forward.
“Oh, beautiful Mistress—!” He begins with an unnatural awe tinging his voice.
Hell! Hell!
“Sit.” I bark at him and he collapses on his knees, right where he’s standing.
“You’ll answer my questions honestly.”
He nods his head like a buoy in a turbulent sea.
“You’ll not spout unnecessary compliments that increase my headache.”
He nods mutely with a slight frown on his face. I signal a will-o’-the-wisp––invisible to his mortal senses––to discreetly fact-check his story.
“I recognize that you are Isla’s great-grandson.” He smiles hearing that. “Where have you and your family been living all this time?”
He walks forward on his knees but stops when I give him a stern look.
“We live just outside Mytherra’s western border.
My previous generation moved when work became scarce here.
Since our parents passed away a few years ago, my five younger sisters and brother have depended on me, but I've struggled to make ends meet. With our money dwindling, one day I dreamt of the legendary boon promised to my ancestor—a story passed down through generations,” he says in a single breath.
It is a typical sob story, but I feel for Isla’s suffering progeny. “What do you wish for? Coins? Sustenance? Work opportunities?”
His light brown complexion flushes red before he blurts out “I wish to lick your revered cunt,—”
What?!
“—with utmost respect, of course!”
He wants to lick my cunt….with respect?
I stare at him, shocked speechless. Words fail me for long moments.
As the awkward silence stretches too far, he scrambles to explain.
“Please don’t be offended, Mistress! I sneaked into Mytherra using a witch’s potion my mother had left me with for emergency travel.
It’s then that I heard from passersby that the nectar from a succubae’s sheath can inspire epics for millennia.
I want to be a successful author so I can fend for myself and my siblings.
If you’d just let me have one lick, I’ll forever be grateful.
That’s the only favor I ask. Please grant me my wish, benevolent Mistress! ”
My brain is still on vacation, since I’m unable to form a sentence. But my mind jumps from one argument to the next, weighing the possibilities.
What to do? I can’t let him lick my cunt! That’s too outrageous!
True, it will gift him the power of inspiration— a succubus’s arousal can enhance anyone’s latent gifts, though that’s not common knowledge—but my possessive husbands might skin me like a hare meant for a hearty stew with carrots for garnish!
But, I owe Isla a life debt. She saved my life and in turn had me swear an oath. Succubae don’t go back on their vow. I don’t go back on my vow!
While I've been thinking of options to get out of this bind, the generational fruit of Isla’s loins has crept closer on his knees. His pupils are completely blown, dick hard in his pants, he’s fully aroused.
“Sit!” I snap at him and he looks up at me with big puppy eyes, as if I have hurt him.
Blue, blistering balls! The allure’s messing with his mind. Why, oh why, did I not wear the Chain of Chastity today? But, how could I’ve known about this mortal’s surprise visit?
Ugh!
If I don’t ease his arousal, he’ll eventually go lust-mad. What will happen to his siblings? Fuck!
I’d have to give him a taste of my ‘nectar’. Only, I don’t want him to lick it from my ‘sheath’ as he puts it.
The will-o’-the-wisp returns, confirming his claims about his starving siblings. They whisper their findings from the human realm into my ear—painting a picture far more dire than I imagined.
Mind made up, I state with what I hope is a steely glint in my eye.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, budding author. I’ll offer you my nectar.”—His face brightens up, while mine turns into a grimace—“You’ll lick it off my fingers, and then be on your merry way.”
“But they said I’d have to lick it off your cunt, for it to work!” He says, voice bordering on panic and distress.
“Who is this ‘they’ you keep referring to?”
I’d like to snap their necks like twigs! Leading unsuspecting men astray.
His mouth snaps shut with an audible click, and then he meekly answers, “Just random supernaturals I passed on my way in when I was traveling covertly.”
Random supernaturals, my ass! I’d have to get to the bottom of this later. Right now I need to get rid of him as fast as possible.
“You get to lick it from my fingers only. Accept or leave, Isla’s great-grandson.”
“Ok. As you say, Mistress.” He concedes quickly.
I narrow my eyes at him but he timidly smiles with hope. I miss the cunning look in his eyes as I look down to lift the layers of my skirt. I’m already soaking wet from the ménage à trois front seat show, so it’s easy to coat my fingertips with a little bit of my slick as I dip them into my pussy.
About to offer my slick-drenched fingers to Mister-Struggling-Author and get over with this nasty favor business, I hear a commotion outside the door. Frowning, I crane my neck in that direction, and Malakai takes advantage of my distraction.
He pounces on my pussy with full gusto, flips up my skirt taking me by shock. He not only licks my cunt, but before I can even blink, he has taken my clit into his mouth and given it a hard suck.
To my utter horror and indignation, that’s all it takes.
My unfulfilled desire from earlier surges, and I unexpectedly climax.
The door flies open, hitting the wall hard enough to leave a dent.
Standing in the doorway is a visibly fuming Rinn, smoky tentacles unfurling behind him in the air, and a solemn looking Azael, disappointment evident in his sapphire blue eyes.
Ah! Fuck my life—and the afterlife too, if the murderous rage I see in Rinn’s coal-black eyes is any indication!