Part 11: Lessons in Consent
A gang learns some hard lessons when they pick on the wrong woman
WARNING: This story deals with the subject of non-consensual sex. If you find that subject distressing, you should skip this story.
"That’s a fine looking pussy... cat!" rang out from the steps as she passed.
Umbra kept her eyes forward, the narrow heels of her shoes clicking loudly on the pavement as she picked up her pace. A small knot of men she’d never seen in this neighborhood before laughed from the stoop where they lounged about drinking something from a paper bag. Kissing noises, cries of "Damn!" and "Your ass is so fine, baby!" chased after her like hyenas. A shiver ran through her as she heard footsteps start to follow behind her. Her throat tightened, and her skirt flattened against her legs as she lengthened her stride.
She was petite with an athletic build, fair skin, sandy blonde hair, and huge round eyes just one step away from panic. She wore a light summer dress with a tight bodice, pleated skirt, and a bright, floral print. It seemed wildly out of place with the ominous turn things had taken. Despite the heat of the setting sun, she was suddenly chilled to her core and pulled her gauzy scarf closer around her shoulders. Hearing the men starting to overtake her, she struggled to keep her composure and thought: “Just a few more blocks, and I’ll be home!”
"Hey baby! Those legs are so fine... Lift up your skirt so we can see the rest!"
She could hear them getting closer, but there was no way she could move any faster in these shoes. Even worse, with straps buckled around the ankle, she couldn't just kick them off and run, either.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no..." she thought in desperate panic as the men caught up to her and surrounded her. Her mouth twisted into a frightened grimace. Trying to steady her voice, she quavered "Leave me alone!" Far from the angry command she was aiming for, it sounded more like a frightened squeak. She tried to push through them. No such luck. The one in front shoved her backward, and she toppled into another man behind who caught her. He stank of booze, cigarette smoke, greasy food, and body odor. He shoved her forward into another one of the gang, who grabbed her upper arms with bruising strength.
"Stop! Please!" she begged, unable to hold the tears back. She struggled to free herself, but he was much too strong for her.
"Come on, bring her over here!" someone yelled, and she felt herself being forced backward out of the light into an alleyway lined with parked cars, trash cans, and dumpsters.
Still struggling, she felt something hard touch the back of her legs. A hand grabbed her throat and thrust her backward. A resonant bong reverberated from the hood of the car as her head slammed into it, and she was momentarily stunned. By the time her vision cleared, she was lying flat on her back with a switchblade gleaming directly in front of her face.
"Don't move little bitch. Don't scream. Don't even breath. Me and my friends are going to get what we want, or you're going to get this. Got it?" The hand squeezed, and cut off her breath until she bobbed her head with tears leaking down her face.
Rough hands groped her body in a horrible mockery of intimacy. She trembled uncontrollably as she felt the point of the blade dig ever so gently into the skin under her eye and trace a teasing line across her face and under her chin. The hand choking her moved downward to grab the neckline of her dress while the point followed slowly along her skin.
Laughter rang out, and the roaming hands clamped down on her shoulders, hips, and knees. "Do it!" squealed a high-pitched voice, "Let's see what kind of panties she has!" A ripping sound was followed by a flood of cold air across her bare chest, stomach, and thighs. She whimpered piteously as the rough hands tore what was left of her dress away. Her bare skin crawled to feel their hands callously exploring the sensitive flesh still covered by her underwear.
"Nice! A matched set! But, does the carpet match the drapes?" someone said with a nasty laugh. A hand slipped under the waistband of her panties, and she desperately thought of the demonic form she ought to have. As a succubus, she should be able to transform into a powerful demon, but she was so inexperienced that she’d never actually managed it. Trying to push down her panic, she attempted to clear her thoughts and will herself to change. Like her all her previous attempts: nothing happened.
Her concentration was shattered as cold steel slipped under her panties and touched her labia. She panicked. She couldn't help but try to squirm away as she started to scream. The stench of cigarettes filled her nostrils as a meaty hand clamped down over her mouth, and a hot sting traced a line across her pubic bone.
"See little bitch?" asked the man with the knife. "That's what happens when you struggle. Stay still, or you get it on purpose next time." Something hard smashed into the side of her head, and her vision momentarily went dark. She could feel a trickle of blood ooze across her cheek. Cruel chuckles surrounded her as she went limp again. The hand returned to crush her head back into the hood with excruciating pressure. Her heart ached in terror as she stared into the darkness above: no longer able to even see what they were about to do to her.
A chorus of sly giggles accompanied the ominous sound of a zipper and the jingle of a belt buckle. The man with the knife said: "Lift up her legs. I'm gunna get me some of that juicy pussy!"
At that instant, a primal shriek rang out from somewhere high above them, echoing down the alleyway. It might have been a hawk, but nothing so small, so innocent, and so natural could have made that sound. It was the kind of sound that makes man—the apex predator among apex predators—feel what it is to be prey for the first time in his life. Terrified cries of "Holy Shit!", "Dios!", and "Yo! What the fuck!" echoed through the alleyway.
Umbra sobbed with joy and relief.
The gang leader spun around looking for the source of that unholy sound. His knife flashed in the glare of the light above them, but now that it was fully dark, he couldn't see anything outside of its narrow cone. His hands shook as he looked wildly about. The shriek sounded again, and his glance flashed upward in time to see the silhouette of huge wings before something massive dropped to the ground on top of one of his men. There was a wet, crunching pop as something broke inside the man and he collapsed.
The figure landed facing away from gang leader. She had a passing resemblance to a tall, burly woman, but there was no way one could mistake that creature for human. Her naked body was covered with dark reddish skin which darkened to black at her hands and feet. Enormous bat's wings grew out of her upper back, hiding the rest of his gang from view. Muscle rippled through her calfs, thighs, and ass as she tore into men in front of her.
He'd only just taken in what was going on before the rest of his boys were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground. As he watched in horrified amazement, she turned toward him. The knife clattered to the ground and a wet stain ran down his leg. Her figure was that of an Amazon, but her face burned with demonic fury. Full round breasts swayed with her motion, and a crisply-defined six-pack ended in a tangled mat of coarse, black hair. Arms much thicker than his own ended in claw-like hands. Even with the promise of mutilation and death mere moments away, he couldn't do more than just stare: balanced between lust and terror. A snarl, the flash of a fist, and darkness swallowed him before he could tear his glance away.
He awoke laying flat on his stomach bent over some kind of low table: naked. His hands were stretched out at right angles and manacled down. His knees ached from contact with the hard floor, and his feet, too, were manacled. His mouth was filled with a large rubber ball gag, and his neck was twisted up so he faced forward: his chin just at the edge of the table. It was pitch black.
He squealed around the gag in alarm and tried to yank himself free. The steel manacles dug painfully into his limbs without budging. After a few moments of panic, he started to whimper and sob. With a soft hiss, a flickering light ignited somewhere behind him.
He was staring directly a pair of crossed legs encased in smokey black stockings. They were held in place with garter straps connected to a sapphire corset. The flesh bulged alluringly at the tops of the stockings, matching her wide hips. Her breasts poured over the top of the corset with deeply tanned skin and more than a hint of dark areolae. The narrow face—framed by straight, black hair—carried obvious South American heritage. The only part of her voluptuous body which wasn't exquisitely inviting was the flinty expression on her face.
She waved his wallet in front of his face. "Hello, Mr. Rodriguez," she said in cultured Spanish. "You seem to have some trouble with the concept of consent. You are now going to receive a few lessons which should make it clear why it is so very important."
His eyes got even wider as she slowly uncrossed her legs to reveal a cleanly shaven pussy with a sparkling piercing in the hood of her prominent clit. She slid down in her chair so that her lips spread open wide, only inches from his face. He could no longer see anything else. A delicate hand slid into view, and dipped two fingers into her vagina. They reappeared and began to gently roll her clit back and forth, making the piercing dance and sparkle. The tangy smell of her arousal saturated his senses. Despite the fear roiling in his belly, he could feel his cock straining in a metal cage tightly clamped around his cock and balls.
"Here is your first lesson. You now have a choice. You can either spend the night here with me... doing whatever I like... or I turn you over—exactly as you are—to the police." At this point, she spread open her labia for a moment, giving him a clear view of the pink flesh inside, before dipping her fingers into her pussy again and continuing to stroke her clit. "Would you like to stay?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
A whistling crack broke the air behind him, and a sharp pain tore across his exposed ass cheeks. He squealed and pulled even more violently as several more strokes landed, flaying burning lines into his flesh. The woman in front of him waved a hand, and the whipping stopped.
"That was your second lesson. Ordinarily, consent can be withdrawn at any time. Unfortunately for you, your vile actions earlier this evening mean you have forfeited that right until dawn. I own your body until sunrise."
Unseen hands removed the gag as she slid forward the final few inches so that her pussy nearly smothered him. He began to lick in a half-hearted way until, at a gesture from his mistress, a smart crack landed across his ass. He began licking with much greater vigor. She closed her eyes, and seemed to be half asleep. Any time his licking flagged even for a moment, one finger raised the tiniest amount, and another painful lash landed on his stinging backside.
Arousing herself from her doze, she said: "You're completely hopeless. Let’s see if you can pleasure my friend instead." With that, she got up and walked out of sight. A door opened and closed. He lay there in increasing anxiety as the minutes ticked by. He shifted painfully in his bonds. After a while, he started to try to pull a hand free and was rewarded with a stinging smack across the knuckles with a hard length of cane. He was still after that.
His anxiety had almost drained off through inactivity when he heard a door open behind him. A deep, male voice chuckled and said: "Well, doesn't that look like fun?" His anxiety spiked back to panic as he struggled with his bonds, provoking another painful smack from the cane. He felt something cold, wet, and slippery drip onto his crack followed by a hard push against his asshole. After a painful stretch, he felt something smooth and fat lodge in place. The stretching stung, but eventually started to subside. Other hands shoved another gag in his mouth which forced his jaws open. Feeling that it had a hole through the center of it, he started to weep and sob as he anticipated what was to come.
Eyes squeezed shut in despair, he felt, rather than saw, the cock enter his mouth through the opening in the gag. He barely heard the satisfied sigh above him over the wet sounds of the cock sliding in and out of his own mouth. He wretched repeatedly as the cock delved deeper and deeper. Finally, the cock thrust in so deep that he couldn't breathe. It paused there while his throat and neck convulsed around it. His need to breath deepened into desperation and then into panic. When the cock finally withdrew, mucus flowed freely from his mouth, nose, and eyes as he gasped and choked.
Unable to clear his vision, he could only hear with horror that the man's footsteps were moving around the table behind him. He howled unintelligible noises through the gag and struggled vainly to free himself, ignoring the smart smacks from the cane which resulted. He was almost too preoccupied to notice the stretch and relief in his backside, following by the cool drip of more lube. Moments later, something both soft and rigid pressed against his pulsing hole. Without resistance, it slid deep into his ass.
Hours passed. Unseen hands moved him and trussed him in various positions as an endless progression of people of all genders used him. Close to dawn, he found himself spread-eagle on the table, facing upward, his head hanging backward over the edge. He wasn't even bound; he was too exhausted by now to struggle.
His head was locked between the thighs of a woman who ground her dripping pussy across his face. As her urgency increased, her pace quickened until she spasmed and a gush of liquid filled his eyes, nose, and mouth. He coughed and spluttered while she got up and left the room.
Shortly before sunrise, Umbra stood outside the door of her would-be rapist's dungeon looking at a small key in her hand like it was a scorpion poised to strike. She’d been staring at it all night. The door opened and Sulphurette stepped out, naked, with her own secretions running down her legs. Her expression softened when she saw Umbra. Grasping her shoulder, she said: "You can do this. You're stronger than him."
Umbra stepped through the door and saw him again for the first time since Sulphurette rescued her. He wasn't even recognizable as the same man. He was covered in sweat, lube, and secretions of every sort. All except his caged little cock, which had been left for her.
Her gut clenched. Despite his obvious helplessness, her earlier terror rose up again at the sight of him. Gritting her teeth, she hardened her expression and thought: "I'm a succubus, a demon, and I'm not afraid of you!" Using the small key in her hand, she unlocked the cage around his cock and dropped it on the ground. Grabbing him in her hand, she stroked him until he was fully erect, and then took him into her mouth. He moaned softly without even lifting his head. With many months of practice, Umbra knew exactly how to get what she wanted. His cock twitched and strained under her lashing tongue.
She could feel her pussy flush and swell with her own arousal as she used her other hand to tease her clit through her panties. She tasted the pre-cum as she, herself, felt that she was getting close. She held him off, enjoying his pained whimpers, as she brought herself to the very edge of orgasm. Finally, she attacked him with vigor so that spurts of cum splashed into her mouth just as she tipped into pulsing contractions of pleasure. Unconcerned (finally!) with the "client," she exerted the full measure of her power—strengthened by her own orgasm—to drain everything she could get from him.
A surge of mingled power and pleasure flooded through her as she swallowed one mouthful after another. Her mortal form tingled with vigor as her young spirit wove itself ever more tightly into the mortal shell she had been provided. In the joining, she could feel the intricate twining of spirit and body, and her control of her own abilities multiply. So too, grew the curse of the succubus. Her horns tore at the skin of her forehead as they thickened and lengthened. She could feel her wings, too, stretch and become more powerful.
She became lost in the ecstasy of draining the life from her victim. As her power increased, she used it to drain him even further. She didn't notice as his pleasured moaning died away into wheezing gasps. The salt of semen became the tang of blood, and she relished it just the same. Suddenly, strong hands pulled her back by the shoulders. Instinctually, she shrieked like an angry hawk and raised a hand—now tipped with claws—to strike out.
A stern face stared into her eyes without flinching. Lost in the madness of her lust, she only vaguely recognized the person in front of her. Confused, she held her claw motionless, still poised to strike. A few seconds later, the madness left her. Umbra, overcome, clutched Sulphurette and trembled. After a few minutes of quiet petting, Sulphurette gently pushed her back, and smiled proudly at her. “Look”, she said, pointing at a full-length mirror.
Umbra stared in awe.
Her skin had turned crimson except for her belly and throat which were a pale rose. Muscles she’d never dreamed of having rippled as she stepped forward, and her clawed hands clicked on the glass as she touched her reflection. Her hair was longer and had lightened to shimmering strawberry blonde. Sharp, ivory horns peeked out from her hairline. Even her eyes had changed. The pale brown was now glittering orange.
She was a demon.
Epilog
The social worker trudged back to her desk from the mail room with a stack of letters in one hand. Wearily dropping into her seat, she tossed them into her inbox. Grabbing the top one, she slit it open, and pulled out a check attached to a donation form. Her eyes got wide as she read: “Pay to the order of ‘Rape Survivors Counseling Center' $5,000.” It was signed: “J. Rodriguez.”