You can’t escape . . . You won’t want to escape . . .
Succubi and other monstrous femme fatales abound in M.E. Hydra’s fourth collection of wild, warped and wickedly dark erotica. Lie back and enjoy as alluring sirens ensnare helpless prey in thirteen weird tales of sex and horror.
A drummer’s plans to separate his mother from her boring partner go horribly awry when he asks “A Succubus for Freedom”. An arrogant massage parlour reviewer is taught a lesson by a creature of myth in “Naga Massage Review”. In “Come on the Candle”, a student upset over a recent break-up summons a succubus during an arcane rite of cleansing. A young man discovers “What Bad Boys Get For Christmas” after he is abducted by some extremely naughty elves. “Riding the Medusa” details an unorthodox and risky form of recreation for bored soldiers stationed in an adjacent dimension. And finally, a shy man in his thirties finds his virginity and more under threat after he’s “Locked in with a Succubus”.
Prepare to be surprised, shocked and aroused by these and other tales of dark temptresses. They'll give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, and terrors beyond your darkest nightmares . . .
They continued on through Nicole’s lower floor. She skipped the next door, but opened the one after it. Now this room was more like how George expected a tart’s boudoir to be. The lighting was low and soft. The walls were hung with heavy black velvet drapes. A huge circular bed took up most of the centre of the room. It was covered in glossy black silk sheets and plush black pillows. An apothecary’s dream of bottles and vials stood on the back shelves.
“This is my relaxation room,” Nicole said.
“Is that a waterbed?” George asked.
“Yes,” Nicole answered.
He pushed down on the edge of the bed and watched the surface sway with wet sloshing sounds.
“Can I?” he asked.
“Be my guest,” Nicole smiled.
“I’ve always wanted to find out what one of these felt like,” George said.
He put the wine bottle down, took off his shoes and dived backwards onto the bed. The bed rocked and swayed beneath him, waves lifting his body up and down. He grinned as he stared up at his reflection in the mirror on the ceiling.
“Yes, I think this is the right room,” Nicole said, looking about her.
George lifted his head up, puzzled.
Nicole took off her coat and hung it on a peg next to the door. Her body was even more gorgeous than George had imagined. She was curvaceous around her chest and ass, but there wasn’t an ounce of spare fat anywhere else. George knew this because he was seeing a lot more of Nicole’s body than he was entirely comfortable with. Beneath her coat she wore a skimpy black bra, panties, thigh-length fishnet stockings, and that was about it.
Her skin was the biggest surprise. She was covered from head to toe in black tattoos. It was an unusual design; George hadn’t seen anything like it before. It looked as if a mad scientist had scribbled all over her body in black pen, covering every inch of her exposed flesh in bizarre symbols and pictograms.
Nicole hadn’t finished disrobing. The bra went next. The mad designs continued across the ample swell of her breasts. Her left breast was decorated with a complex whorl that spiralled all the way down to the pink disc of her areola. George thought she didn’t really need additional help to draw the gaze to the perfect curves of her bosom.
His mouth gaped open. She was topless. Why was she topless?
“Uh . . . I thought you said Miss Kitson hadn’t given you any money.”
Nicole looked at George and smiled. “She hasn’t.”
Her skin wasn’t the biggest surprise.
She finally took off her shades and shook out her hair. A chill ran through George. What was that at her temples? Horns? And her eyes—god, her eyes—where were they? He saw now why she always wore those dark glasses. There were two empty black wells where her eyes should be. Nicole stretched her shoulders and a pair of black bat wings erupted from her back. A black tail—slender as a whip and ending with a spade-like point—unfurled down the back of her legs.
“Ah, much better,” she said.
She smiled at George. It was the same elegantly angled face; the same full, kissable lips; the same gorgeous contours of her body. Her features should have been perfect, but they also came with horns, wings, tail and those unsettling empty black eyes. It turned her beauty into something horribly wrong. Sexy into perverse.
“W-w-what are you?” George asked.
“I’m a succubus. I guess Inari neglected to tell you that,” Nicole said. “And you appear . . .” She turned a key in the door, locking it with a click. She hung the key around her neck like a pendant and dropped it down into her cleavage. She turned back to George. A predatory smile was on her blood-red lips. “. . . to be locked in with me.”