Mara's Pov

The Raven’s Submission

The bedroom door clicked shut behind Mara, sealing the young woman’s fate with a sound far too soft for the storm raging in her chest. Her fingers trembled against the wood, nails digging half-moons into the paint as she leaned her forehead against its cool surface.

This isn’t right.

The thought flickered through her mind like the last ember of a dying fire. She should turn around. Mara could have still marched back to the living room and demand Zeno grow a spine. At least call a taxi and spend the night at a hotel—anywhere but here, in this apartment that no longer felt like hers.

But her legs wouldn’t move.

A pulse throbbed behind her eyes, the same invasive warmth that had coiled in her belly during dinner, when Ettore’s fingers had "accidentally" grazed her inner thigh. The memory alone made her clench—not in disgust, but in something far more treacherous.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heartbeat synced with the creak of mattress springs behind her.

"Don’t keep me waiting, bella."

Ettore’s voice was different now—smoother, darker, the gravelly edge of age polished into something serpentine. Mara’s breath hitched as she turned, her back still pressed to the door.

The man on the bed was not the Ettore she knew.

Oh, the shell was the same—salt-and-pepper stubble, the crow’s feet at his eyes, the broad shoulders of a man who’d worked manual labor his whole life. But the way he lounged against the headboard, one arm draped over his bent knee, the other hand stroking the obscene bulge in his slacks—

This was completely different.

"C-Come on, Mr. Bianchi,” Mara stammered, her voice thin. "Zeno’s right outside, we shouldn’t—"

"Ettore," he corrected, his golden eyes glowing in the dim lamplight. "And we both know you’re not leaving."

Mara’s throat tightened. Why wasn’t she leaving?

Ettore’s lips curled. "Come. Kneel."

The command rippled through her, a vibration in her bones that bypassed thought entirely.

"W-What the hell is happening... Why am I going along with this madness, fuck!!" A mental echo, dripping with shock and corrupt lust. It seemed Zeno's girlfriend had a hidden submissive streak...

Mara’s knees buckled, the pale vixen's voluptuous body moving before her mind could protest. The carpet scraped her bare knees as she crawled forward, the young woman's pulse hammering in her ears.

"G-Good," she whispered, as if convincing herself. "I’ll just... give you a quick massage, like Zeno said, and then—"

Ettore’s laugh cut through her like a blade. "Oh, Mara." His fingers tangled in her raven hair, yanking the curvy beauty's head back until her neck arched. "You think this is about a back rub?"

The rip of fabric echoed through the room as he tore her sweater open, buttons pinging against the walls. Mara gasped—not in protest, but in shameful arousal as the cool air pebbled the young woman's exposed nipples.

"Look at you," Ettore mused, his free hand groping her tit, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh. "All this sweetness wasted on a boy who can’t even defend it."

Mara’s protest died as his thumb flicked her nipple, the jolt of pleasure-pain wringing a whimper from her lips.

"Z-Zeno—"

"Is jerking himself to the thought of you right now," Ettore purred, his other hand unbuckling his belt. "Pathetic little cuck. But you? You were made for real men."

The slap of his fat cock against her cheek stole the voluptuous beauty's breath.

"H-Holy shit..."

Thick. Veined. Dripping with precum that smelled wrong—musky and addictive, like opium laced with honey.

Mara’s tongue darted out before she could stop it, lapping at the bead of moisture at his tip.

Oh God.

The taste exploded across her senses—dark chocolate and something else, something that writhed down her throat and into her belly, coiling like a living thing.

Ettore’s fingers tightened in her hair. "That’s it. Take it."

Mara’s lips parted, her body moving on autopilot as she swallowed him to the root.

The Cuckold’s Ignorance

On the couch, Zeno sighed, his hand still tucked beneath the blanket. The muffled thumps from the bedroom were easy to ignore—probably just Mara fluffing pillows for his dad.

Such a good girlfriend.

He rolled onto his side, his half-hard cock pressing against the couch cushions as he imagined Mara’s hands on him instead.

A moan drifted down the hallway—Mara’s moan—high and breathless.

Zeno froze.

Was she...? No. Couldn’t be.

Another moan. Louder. Followed by the rhythmic creak of bedsprings.

Zeno’s stomach lurched.

"D-Dad?" he called, his voice thin.

No answer. Just the wet slap of flesh and Mara’s broken whimpers.

Zeno’s cock twitched.

No. No no no—

His hand moved anyway, stroking himself to the sounds of his girlfriend’s ruin.

The Raven’s Ruin

Mara choked as Ettore hilted himself down her throat, the voluptuous slut's nose buried in the coarse thatch of his pubes. Tears streamed down her cheeks, the young woman's body convulsing with the need to breathe—but her throat relaxed, her gag reflex vanishing under Nero’s corruptive influence.

"Good girl," Ettore growled, his hips pumping into her face. "Take your real man like you were born to."

Mara’s fingers clawed at his thighs, not to push him away, but to anchor herself as the pale beauty's vision darkened at the edges.

Thump. Thump. THUMP.

Her heartbeat slowed, her lungs no longer burning. The lack of oxygen should have terrified her—

*Glock!*

Instead, it freed her.

*Glock!*

"T-This is just practice, right? If Zeno is half as big as his dad... F-FUCK!! Y-Yes, I seriously need some... Training" A spiritual echo, dripping with corrupt lust, if she expected her boyfriend to be hung like a fucking incubus... Well, by the time Nero was done with her Zeno would be long forgotten.

*Glock!!*

Her panties soaked through, the cheating girlfriend's clit throbbing in time with Ettore’s thrusts.

"That’s it," he crooned, yanking her up by the hair. "Look at you. Drowning on your fiancee's dad, worshiping his old man's cock and dripping for it."

Mara’s luscious red lips smacked as he pulled out, a strand of saliva and precum connecting them.

"P-Please," the lustful vixen begged, not even knowing what she was asking for.

Ettore flipped her onto the bed, the voluptuous cheating girlfriend leggings shredded with a single clawed swipe. His teeth scraped the nape of her neck as he mounted her, his cock notching at her entrance.

"Scream for him," he whispered. "Let your fiancé hear how good you take his father."

Mara screamed.

On the couch, Zeno came.

The Incubus’ Triumph

Dawn crept through the curtains, painting Mara’s ravaged body in sickly gold.

"Ah, how refreshing..."

Ettore—No... Nero—lounged against the headboard, the doppelganger's fingers toying with the fresh bite marks on Mara’s fat tits.

"Mine," he murmured, the old man's deep baritone layered with the demon’s growl.

Mara whimpered, her thighs sticky with his seed.

In the living room, Zeno snored.

The first thread of the Incubus’s web was spun.