The Curse of the Succubus
Chapter 4: The Curse of the hair

Copyright© 2011 by BobRooney

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Curse of the hair - A highwayman finds himself as the victim when he tries to hold up the carriage of a beautiful and deadly demon.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Reluctant   Rape   Mind Control   Magic   Heterosexual   Fiction   BDSM   DomSub   FemaleDom   Humiliation  

My legs shook. I felt weak, drained, defeated. I had nothing left to fight with. I kept my eyes on the ground, averted from the demon woman who had twice made me waste my seed. She had feasted on my pain.

"I like this one," she said, probably to the driver. I did not look up.

"Maybe I shall take him with me and release you?"

Only silence greeted those words.

Then the woman laughed. "I bet you would like that, my dear! But no ... Your soul has belonged to me for so many generations now, and I have gotten so very used to you. I'm afraid you will have to serve me through yet more ages, my love."

There was more silence, and then I heard rough sobs. The driver was crying, he was actually weeping! I did not dare look up from the spot where my eyes had rested these last minutes.

"Don't be sad," she laughed. "I have fed well on this one! I will not need to use you for a week, at least. You have not had that much rest for many a day now, have you?"

Somehow I had the feeling that having an arrow in his guts was the least of the driver's worries. I just hoped and prayed that my ordeal was over, that I at least would be allowed to go.


"There are," said her soft, yet evil, voice in my ear and I knew that there was still torment to come, "things even more beautiful than having a woman call you by your true nature, or even seeing her wearing a lovely garment. Do you know what I am talking about?"

I stood stock still. I understood the game now, and did not not want to play it anymore.

"Her hair," she breathed. "Her long, shining, smooth hair. Don't you agree? The poor man you just shot agrees with me. One touch of my hair and he is down on his belly, crawling wherever I send him."

As she was speaking she had slowly moved herself in a position where the top of her head was just in front of my face. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at her, but from her blonde hair came scents wafting through my nose and into my brain.

At first it smelled like flowers, like fruits, like mild spices, like the perfumes the rich ladies of the cities spray themselves with. I tried breathing only with my mouth, but the scent would not let itself be shut out.

I was reminded now of heady wines that would confuse and dull me. Then of drugs I had taken when I was younger, drugs that addled my brain and made me weak and insane. That is, if wine or drugs were mixed with the promise of female loveliness and of pleasure.

I opened my eyes. There was nothing else I could do even though I tried to squeeze them shut. The drug compelled me. To my surprise I saw that she was standing three paces away. I was not aware that she had moved, the scent was still as strong as if she was close by me. I was not aware of what she was wearing, just that it was not the black dress. All I knew was that she was combing her hair.

Such a sheen of loveliness, a silken scarf of pure, shimmering strands! The comb brushed through the thick, blonde hair as slowly as the tide, and the movement sent waves and lazy ripples through the golden waterfall.

My manhood was hard once again, but I couldn't care less. "Oh Gods," I sobbed. "Such beauty. I have never seen such beauty! Make it touch me! Please, make it touch me!"

Tinkling laughter was all the reply I got. The silver comb moved slowly and steadily, and the white-gold mane fluttered in the light breeze. I could have died to touch that hair, I could have killed to have it brush against me. But all I could do was what I knew to be utterly futile: I fought to get loose, I shouted, I begged, and I cried.

How long this went on I did not know, but the sun was dying when my desire finally overcame me. I did not know it was possible to ejaculate without even having been touched, but that is what I did.

As I was about to send my precious drops flying, she seemed to conjure up a wide, black satin ribbon from nowhere, and deftly tied her hair in a large bow at the back of her neck. And with the sight of that golden, divine hair caught in the lovely, black fabric as it flowed straight down below her waist; with that sight I came with such a violence as I had never thought possible.

Burst after burst shot from my manhood, and I roared and screamed. It went on and on. I could not stop. The last thing I remember before I fainted, still ejaculating, was her hair, egging me on to one more, just one more, excruciatingly painful thrust.

 
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