The Dreams of the Succubii Read online

  The Dreams of the Succubii.

  An erotic anthology by Stephanie Calvin.

  Copyright page.

  Dreams of the Succubii

  Stephanie Calvin

  First Published by Stephanie Calvin on Amazon

  Copyright 2013 Stephanie Calvin

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

  or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

  please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting my hard work and creativity.

  Cover photograph is licensed. It remains the copyright of Mastertouch. Not to be reproduced other than for the legitimate promotional purposes of Stephanie Calvin or Mastertouch without written permission.

  Contact: [email protected]

  In affectionate memory of James Marriott. A fine man, and a great editor.

  Foreword.

  The Succibii are mythical female vampires who feed, not on blood, but on human sexual activity.

  They sup from the frantic couplings of mortals, they wickedly cavort amongst themselves, and then, perhaps, they sleep. But if they sleep, then surely they must dream?

  And if the Succubii do dream, what tantalising tales would stir their jaded lusts? Their appetites, their imaginings, must be the distillation of the erotic daydreams of ordinary women. A concentrated essence, a lascivious liqueur.

  These three stories, of magical happen stance, elegant sodomy, and gentle, preparatory spankings, are like the lusty tatters of those dreams. They swirl, around slick thighs and shuddering, sobbing midnight cries, to sting the Succubii awake.

  The first, of Kali the Destroyer. Eater of Souls. A professional wrestler and part time dominatrix finds that a case of mistaken identity, one which could destroy her reputation, and even land her in prison, is just the rod she needs to spur her ingenuity. One last time, Kali must teach a man the beauty of submission to her will, and the pleasure that is the reward for that surrender.

  The second tale is of Customer Complaints, where Connie Masterby discovers that being firm with surly staff can lead, at certain times, and in certain secret places, to temptation beyond endurance, as she stumbles on to a hidden temple of Dionysus, and gives herself to the little God of buggery and flagellation.

  The last, a curious, modern tale of the corporation, AnonymAss, where those, like the beautiful, but scar faced Ghita O' Connor who seek salvation, can offer their anonymous bottoms to the highest bidder. The sacred Whores of Isis are reborn, with Ghita as the sacrifice, in a modern temple of Sodom.

  Publishers warning: This is a work of erotica. It is strictly adults only, as it contains lurid scenes of perverse sexual behaviour not suitable for minors, or those of a prudish disposition.

  Table of Contents

  The Dreams of the Succubii.

  An erotic anthology by Stephanie Calvin.

  Foreword.

  Table of Contents

  KALI the Destroyer.

  Customer complaints.

  AnonymAss.

  Afterword.

  Dolly Boss.

  An exclusive excerpt from the erotic novella by Stephanie Calvin.

  Supercunt.

  Downhill.

  Captured

  KALI the Destroyer.

  Angie Thurrock, professional name KALI, the Destroyer, loved pumping iron. She had a whole room in her house devoted to every kind of muscle building apparatus that a woman on a serious income could afford. Put simply, if there was a muscle in the body, then Angie - Lets call her Kali out of professional courtesy, shall we? - had the latest version of it. Everything from grip enhancers, to pectoral pumpers, to deep knee-bend assisters. She had black-sprayed free weights by the ton, literally, in various combinations right up to thirty kilograms a piece. She had tension machines and treadmills, pull up bars and a sit up bench. There were ropes bolted to the ceiling, and rods inserted in the floor. Everything a serious body builder could need , and some they would admit were indulgences. It was a veritable temple to the sculpting of the body, to the torture of the flesh into perfection, where Kali would spend hours pushing her massive frame into new heights of pumped up splendour. The room smelled of feminine sweat and oil, and the low level sharpness of pheromones. The atmosphere was quiet, and intense, as if all the hours of her solitary, excruciating effort had embedded the psychic impression of determination and masochism in to the very walls.

  At present, she was laying on her free press bench, steadily pushing a light, 30kg or so, bar above her head. The exercise caused her no concern, as the weight was well below what she could press at her maximum. The movements of her arms were smooth and graceful, and she watched her forearm's corded sinews flexing as they twist-gripped the bar above her. She was pumping herself up for her next client. Making the muscles of her chest and shoulders swell in readiness. They liked the impression of awesome strength her massive chest and shoulders gave . It made their submission to her even more exciting. In a curious way, she understood them, thought she didn't share their need for domination.

  With her, it was the opposite. She liked to overpower men. Liked to make them do as they were told. Her Chinese horoscope claimed her as a Dragon, and what little she bothered to read about her supposed qualities tended to agree with the reality. Ever since she had blossomed from a mousey, gawky teen into the six foot colossus that she was now, Angie, Kali, had loved to exercise her physical superiority over men.

  It was not even that she was a man hater. She loved her dad, a quiet engineer who lived an entirely blameless life in the London suburbs. She had several normal sexual relationships, mostly with averagely fit men, who liked an average sort of girlfriend and eventually cast her off, puzzled by their inability to connect with her. She had tried sexual intimacy with women a few times, thinking that deep down she was probably lesbian, and though she enjoyed both the sex and the company, she found that eventually they did not give her the psychic conflict she seemed to need and the relationships, like those with men, petered out.

  Her relationships with body building males were a particular disaster. One had ended in a broken nose, hers, and the other had ended in a dislocated arm, his. It seemed that the type of males who developed their bodies were, almost uniformly, into performance enhancing compounds that made them unable to control their aggression. Kali refused to use anything like that, and so her mind state was more cerebral than theirs. Unfortunately, that type of man seemed unwilling to develop their minds to the same extent as their bodies, and so, in the battle of wits she required to make things interesting, they found themselves out gunned, and resorted to bluster and force to get their way. Kali would never submit to oppression by violence, and so, both relationships had ended with the police calling and a messy separation of possessions. The worst arguments, typically, had revolved around which weights belonged to whom. And so, she was alone, at thirty-five, and quite happy that way.

  She masturbated, when she felt the need for it, and had all that equipment tucked away in her bedroom. She was nearing the end of a relatively successful career as a professional woman wrestler, and she had her little sideline as a Dominatrix to bring in a little extra income. Her house was her own, and her savings were substantial, so all in all, Angie/Kali ws a very content woman.

  She was wondering idly, as she slowly pumped the weight, if she should have artificial insemination, to give her the child she found herself actually wanting to make her life complete, when the doorbell chimed.

  'That will be him,' she thought.

  The little worm was early! Already, her mind was switching over to the Kali persona entirely. Angie's pre-occupation with her ch
ildless state slipped, with that personality, into the background. As she dropped the bar into its holding hooks, Kali felt the sense of anticipation in her rise. This newest client had been sent to her by special recommendation. She performed a particularly specialist routine in domination which involved wrestling men into submission, and then sodomising them. As she was particularly muscular, and very attractive if you like the Swedish blonde colouring, there was no problem finding clients willing to pay good money. The problem was keeping things discrete for, though her pro-career was nearly over, she still didn't want the sort of publicity an expose in the Sunday papers would attract.

  The doorbell chimed again, and she rolled smoothly upwards, enjoying the sensation of her taut abdomen clenching, sat and swung her massive, muscular thigh over the side of the bench so she could rise and head towards the door. She paused in front of one of the several posing mirrors, which hung on the walls of her gym, and checked her appearance. She always prepared early for clients, because of exactly this sort of early bird nuisance, and so the figure that stared back at her from the mirror was fully dressed and ready for action.

  The latex bikini was one of her old posing costumes from when she worked the fitness circuits in the states, but it served equally well as a 'dom' costume, because it exposed everything she wanted exposed, and covered, almost, everything she wanted hidden. These little bastards who used her services were not entitled to anything other than a good humiliation session, and a hard arse fucking at the end of it. They were not allowed to touch her, and only allowed to look at her if she said so. Little worms!

  Kali spread her big thighs and extended the sweep of her arms to the side so that her awesome chest expanded, and the muscles all over her glossy frame stood out. Her thighs were her pride and joy. They curved in all the right places, for she was careful not to over bulk, but still had that stark relief of musculature that only intense training can give. Many was the man whose ears had been crushed between the silky vices of those thighs.

  She smiled at herself in the mirror, all tanned skin and white teeth. Her blue eyes held a hint of hardness, as Kali anticipated the new client, and what she was going to do to him. Her legs were encased to the knee in dull leather boots that laced up the front along chromed eyelets. The heels were wedges, rather than stilettos. This was a health and safety issue, as she had learned after one unfortunate man had needed stitches in his calf from wrestling with her in high heels. Her breasts, which she refused to have augmented, were rather small for a woman of her type, due to the leanness of her frame, and in fact, had it not been for the balance of her broad shoulders, she could have looked decidedly bottom heavy. As it was, the large muscles of her pumped thighs and the great, round hemispheres of her glutes were perfectly enhanced by comparison with her upper half. She was just admiring the play of tiled muscle on her abdomen as she leaned back when the doorbell chimed yet again.

  The little bastard was nearly twenty minutes early, and yet he wasn't taking the hint of her not answering the door.

  She picked up her silky door robe off the hook and swung it round her. It wouldn't do to answer the door looking like a lost member of a dodgy sci-fi movie, as she had discovered on a previous occasion with Jehovah's witnesses. They had scurried away before she needed to come up with a witty explanation, but it had taught her a lesson in discretion.

  Today's theatre was based on the conceit that the client was the TV license inspector, and she was supposed to overpower him and make him rue the day he had called to her door. She had often wished she could just answer the door in costume, but knew that one day she would answer the door and it would be a real license inspector, or God forbid it, her poor gentle Father come to visit.

  She ruthlessly suppressed the urge to smile at the thought, and headed determinedly to the front door. She could see a medium height figure shifting round on the doorstep through the smoked glass panes of the old fashioned door to her house.

  'I really must change that door to something more energy efficient,' she thought to herself, knowing she wouldn't ever get round to it.

  She wrapped the robe tightly around her, checking that not too much golden thigh was showing, and opened the door to reveal her guest. He had his back turned towards her, as if he had finally decided that he should come back at the appointed time.

  'Hello,' Kali said, pleasantly, as she tensed herself to grab him.

  'Head or arm,' she wondered, studying his posture, trying to decide which move would overpower him faster. He waved his identity card, a fairly amateurish affair, and said, 'T.V license inspector. Our records show that you haven't renewed your license, and we were wondering if you still had equipment capable of receiving a signal?'

  She studied him professionally, noting the nervousness and the sweat on his brow. She wasn't surprised at how handsome he was, as her clients came in all sorts, and were rarely the cliché of fat, old businessmen that the media would have you believe.

  He raised his eyebrows, as if to prompt her to speak, and she leaned a little closer as if to see what was written on the clipboard he carried.

  He moved slightly away from her, twisting as if to hide what was written there. She took hold of the clip board and leaned ever closer, testing both his grip and their relative body weights. She had the advantage by about ten kilos she estimated, and she could see by his exposed wrists, where they poked out of his shirtsleeves that he was not weak, but definitely not at her level of development. Some of her clients were quite strong, and it often took special martial techniques to subdue them. It didn't seem to be the case this time, but one could never be too careful, she had learned. A short struggle ensued, as she twisted the clipboard towards her with the powerful muscles of her left arm and wrist, and he tried to stop her. He was no match, and she saw her address written in a neat hand on the ripped sheet of paper sloppily attached to the cheap clipboard.

  Se pulled him closer to her using the clipboard hand, and when he started to protest, she wrapped the other big arm around his head so that he his face was pulled into her broad chest. The gown muffled his snorts of indignation as she dropped her grip of the clipboard and got a firm hold of his free left wrist and thumb.

  Using an applied Aikido technique, she locked his wrist, then his arm straight, so that she could get properly behind him. She shifted the grip on his head, angling her forearm so that his chin was bent to the side, and tilted her big hips forward so that he was almost lifted off his feet. The pain of the hold, she knew from experience, would allow her to move him wherever she liked, and this theory was proven right as she swung him inside and tipped the door shut with a sweep of her right hip. She marched him down to her 'studio', as she liked to call it, which was a normally locked room adjacent to her gym.

  Today it was unsecured, ready to receive this latest naughty boy, and the door swung open under the pressure of the vaguely struggling man's pelvis. She twisted his arm, hard, and he gave a strangled,' Arrgh!' sound, as she made him dip his head towards the floor.

  'What are you doing?' he managed to blurt out, before she silenced him by pressing his face into the mat. She really enjoyed this part of the job, and so she let her hold of his arm go and laid herself entirely across his back, locking her calves around his and forcing his lower legs to part. She reached a hand down between then, seeking his privates, and found them exactly where expected. The squeeze she gave his scrotum got a deep groan out of him that spiralled to a high squeak as she gave him a quick clench of her powerful fist. It temporarily knocked the stuffing out of him, and she took the opportunity to wriggle out of her robe and cast it carelessly behind her. She reached one long fingered hand out to her equipment cupboard, admiring the way her newly manicured nails twinkled scarlet under the neon light of her playroom. She plucked a simple ball gag, and pulled it swiftly over his head, pressing it into his protesting mouth through sheer strength, then hauled both his arms up into a version of a half nelson hold. He squawked, satisfyingly, and she settled her thong c
lad bottom into the small of his back. The sensation of a man trapped between her thighs always aroused her and she took a few selfish moments to enjoy the pressure on her cunt and clitoris.

  Then, professionalism re-asserted itself, and she turned him over in a quick flip roll so that she could swivel around on one knee and sit on his face. The ball gag swttled nicely into the area around where her anus was, and she idly noted to her self to check the instructions to see if he had put himself down as a cunt or ass licker. She was careful to allow air to pass down the groove between her cheeks and his nostrils, so that he wouldn't smother, but tilted her hips occasionally so that he would have to sniff her ass-cheeks. They liked that, she knew.

  Kali reached again to her cupboard and selected a velvet sheathed pair of quick lock handcuffs. It was no part of her brief to actually injure the clients, though she was expected to make them pretty uncomfortable as long as the play acting lasted, so she always selected her equipment with an eye to safety as well as refinement. She snapped the cuffs in place, so that his hands were tied together at the front. She quickly pulled a length of silken rope from the cupboard and wrapped it round the chain beteen the cuffs, then she looped the free ends into his groin and under his struggling thighs so that she could haul his hands down by hauling on the rope.

  His handcuffed limbs came down to his groin, and she expertly tied them off so that he was secured. She rolled off him, plucking at the material of her posing costume where it had let her cuntlips escape in the struggle. She made sure to let him see this, as the little bastards liked a peep now and again in the early part of the show. His eyebrows raised, above the gag and he tried to scramble away from her by desperate pistoning movements of his feet against the mat covered floor. She had seen this so many times it had ceased to surprise her. She knew he was okay because the pre-agreed signal of having two fingers outstretched on each hand had not been given. Non-verbal signals were essential as safe words when gags were used. It was no use shouting 'orange' behind a gag if your play tormentor couldn't understand you and thought you meant 'harder'.