In Dreams

How could I resist the offer? Plain and uninteresting me. The opportunity to be as close as is possible to the man I had obssessed over and sickened for. What would it matter if I lost my soul for it? Give up my humanity forever. Become something else. Powerful. Desired. A Succubus.

I was no longer tied to the shell of a body that had been my miserable prison. I went to him that very night, in his dreams. My form became not how I had always appeared, but instead how he wanted me. I embodied every illicit fantasy that he had ever experienced. In space of his mind I created the room as I had always pictured it, a gothic cell with blood red furnishings, and a four poster bed. He was restrained in a carved wooden chair.

I went to him and began to undress a hair’s breadth away from him. He was enraptured as I slid the silken dress to the floor, and began to stroke my hands up and down my own body, just out of his reach. When I was naked I sank to my knees in front of him. In this place I had created I did not give him the power of speech. I could see his green eyes were clouded, and he was silently begging me for release as I took him into my hands.

I touched that senstive tip with my tongue and breathed delicately on him. He writhed under my touch until finally I succumbed to my own need. I straddled him, grasping the wooden back of the chair until our bodies knit together, and he fought with all his might against his bondage. I set our rhythm, rocking back and forth, completely in control of what was happening. I saw his dissent mixed in with his lust, and grasped his nipple cruelly to remind him who was in control here. I kissed him deeply and fiercely, stealing his breath and crushing my breasts againt his chest. I threw myself onto him and screamed as my orgasm hit me, the reaction of my own body bringing him to his climax too. I kissed him lovingly on the forehead as the room around us began to blur and fade.

I left him. I know that his corporeal body has been moaning in the throes of a dream that his beautiful wife cannot awaken him from. He awakens feverish, and for want of a better word, drained. Well, the creature I have become does require a little something for sustenance. He is strong, he will recover. And when he does I will return. And he will love me for it, because I’m in his blood now. But for now the world is full of other people who want to fulfill their wildest dreams. I’m simply the means to that end. Is it really so bad of me?