Angela's spiritual master, Annette Schwarz joins the scene!

The Incubus’ Gambit: Hypnosis and Power Plays

The air in Angela Liegi’s office was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and something darker—something primal.

*Shlup*

*Shluck!*

*Shlup*

Stefano’s smirk never wavered as he watched the raven-haired matron’s large chest rise and fall with ragged breaths, feeling the voluptuous milf's throat clench around his shaft as she swallowed his creamy load, her porcelain skin flushed with fury and something far more dangerous—worship.

"Huuu..."

Darya, her once-loyal bodyguard, was still sprawled across the couch, the Russian beauty's toned thighs twitching as aftershocks of pleasure wracked her toned body.

"Cum... m-more cream, master... cock, p-please!!"

The blonde vixen’s lips were swollen, her throat raw from swallowing Stefano’s seed, the young woman's mind still swimming in the Celestial Bliss that had turned her into a cock-drunk mess.

Suddenly the familiar wetness wrapping the incubus' throbbing shaft disappeared, the Casino's matron tucked Stefano's cock in before settling back on her feet, though she was quite unsteady. It seemed the aphrodisiac pheromones had taken quite the toll.

"I-*Cough!*-I hope that was eno-*Ah!*-ugh... to sate your urges, Mr. Kevin."

Of course it wasn't, the incubus' fat cock was already bulging against his pants, Angela's dark hazel eyes lingered on her guest's crotch for a second too long before meeting his gaze, there was no way this business woman was just **** down his cock... if it wasn't for the dripping mess between her deep cleavage that is,

"Hum... Three days from now," she began, her smoky contralto still sore, "the Bratva will settle a major deal with our Moretti clan. The terms are... unfavorable to us."

Stefano—still wearing the mask of Kevin Ngobe—leaned back in his chair, the half-Nigerian man's rough fingers idly tracing the rim of his untouched whiskey glass.

"And what do I have to do with that?"

Angela’s luscious lips curled. "We have an ancient tradition... in the underground world. The stronger fist rules, I'm sure a man of your stature knows this as well. As Kasimir’s representative, I can choose a champion to turn the tables and gain the upper hand."

Stefano chuckled. "OK, but I’m sure you wouldn’t do that unless absolutely confident in the fighter’s skills." He tilted his head. "I suppose losing means being at the Bratva’s complete mercy..."

Angela’s gaze flickered—just for a second—toward the window, as if staring into some distant, unpleasant memory.

"Shit..."

Stefano had hit the nail on the head.

"There is no such a thing as a free meal in this world, she would only rise up to the challenge only if absolutely confident in her champion's skills."

He brought her back to reality with a slow, deliberate sip of whiskey. "In the end, if the benefits aren’t big enough, I wouldn’t lift a finger." His deep baritone dropped, just for her. "Besides, I can’t bear too big of a risk. Who would take care of my business then?"

Angela’s hazel eyes sharpened. She had thrown the bait, now it was time to see Stefano's terms.

The incubus smirked, the half-Nigerian man's pearly teeth shining in the dimly lit studio. "First, if you are willing to close an eye on Patrizia’s... debt." He swirled his glass. "I would be much more... receptive."

The Casino's matron leaned forward, the seductive mistress' deep cleavage pressing against the emerald silk. Then, like a cat sensing prey, she pounced, the curvy milf's smoky contralto cutting through the deception,

"I don’t care about your relationship with them, Mr. Ngobe, but you could make your interest a bit less clear. If it were someone else, you might be ending up under some serious ****..."

Well, it seemed the small-time gangster's disguise wasn't enough to fool this woman's sharp eyes. Still, he couldn't just openly admit it, right? And denying it out right would sound too suspicious.

"..."

Silence was usually the best option in these cases, yet Angela's final blow reached him unexpectedly,

"Stefano Bianchi."

The name hung in the air like a blade unsheathed.

Stefano, no, Kevin didn’t even flinch.

"Ooh, interesting... I'm either wrong which is rarely the case or we have seriously underestimated you..."

He was Kevin Ngobe—through and through. His disguise was flawless, his mind honed by the Osiris ring’s fallen divinity.

"Damn... how did she? Nevermind, let's try to keep this exchange friendly, if Angela pursues things it won't be that hard to find more discrepancies in my disguise."

It was kinda scary, but Sefano couldn’t help but admire how easily she had seen through his tricks.

Angela studied him, her lips parting in a slow, dangerous smile. "Huu, still nothing?" She exhaled smoke. "Well, you are either better at this than I thought, or my intel is wrong." She shrugged, the movement deliberate, calculated. "Regardless, I won’t attack you or your people... as long as we can cooperate."

Stefano quirked an eyebrow.

"Is that a threat I hear?"

Angela laughed—a rich, throaty sound that sent a shiver down the spines of her guards. "No, caro. A promise."

She stood, her stilettos clicking against the marble as she circled him like a panther sizing up its prey.

"The Bratva’s champion is Yuri Norabov—a fighter closer to a battle demon than a human. He’s butchered men twice his size in the Piazza dei Leoni, Torino’s underground arena." Her fingers trailed along Stefano’s shoulder. "But you... you’re something else, aren’t you?"

Stefano caught her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "And if I win?"

Angela’s pulse jumped beneath his fingers.

"Then," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear, "I’ll give you what you desire."

Stefano’s lips curled.

"Tempting. But I’ll need more than just you."

Angela’s eyes darkened. "Name your price."

Stefano released her, standing to his full height, towering over her even in her stilettos.

"Patrizia’s debt—erased."

"Done."

"Exclusive distribution rights for Celestial Bliss in your casinos."

Angela’s lips parted. "Bold."

Stefano wasn’t finished. With a step he was already half across the room, the incubus towering frame over Angela's broken security guard,

"Huu... c-cock!! YESS!! B-BLYAT!"

Darya screamed, her back arching as Stefano hilted himself inside the blonde vixen's tight pussy, his claws digging into her wide hips.

*Plap!*

"And," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, "you—on your... f-fuck, she is tight... yeah, on your knees, in front of your... I mean our men—swearing fealty to us."

*Plap*

Angela didn’t look away.

*Plap!*

He tried to peer into her mind yet unexpectedly failed, it seemed a pretty skilled hypnotist had left a soul ward on the Casino matron's spiritual realm.

Darya’s moans still echoed off the gilded walls, the security guard's toned body glistening with sweat as she rode Stefano’s cock with ****, animalistic hunger. The wet slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by the blonde’s breathless whimpers as she took him deeper, her tight ass clenching around his monstrous girth.

Angela’s lithe fingers trembled around the stem of her champagne flute.

"Y-You overstep, demon," she hissed, her smoky contralto laced with venom.

Stefano merely chuckled, lazily stroking his still-hard length, smearing the voluptuous mistress’ saliva and his own precum along his shaft. "Do I? Or have I simply exposed what you’ve been too afraid to admit?"

A shadow flickered behind Angela’s dark eyes—doubt.

"Who’s your backer?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "The Orsinis, that old bastard has been restless lately... or maybe the Sbarras?"

Stefano chuckled, thrusting harder, wringing another scream from Darya. "Guess again."

Angela’s face drained of color.

"Osiris Temple."

The name hung in the air like a curse.

Angela’s fingers clenched around her glass, her knuckles white. "Impossible. Those witches haven’t surfaced since the 70s."

Stefano grinned, his cock twitching as Darya sobbed, the pale beauty's orgasm ripping through her. "They’re back."

Angela stood, her heels clicking against the marble as she paced, her mind racing.

"You’re lying," she hissed. "This... this is a trap."

Stefano shrugged, pulling Darya flush against him, his lips brushing her ear. "Tell her your truth, pet."

Darya whimpered, her voice raw. "H-he’s not lying... Mistress... Please... I need him... i-it feels soo good!!"

Angela’s jaw tightened.

"Oil form is easily... damn, tighten up slut! Achievable," he purred, his deep baritone steady despite the brutal pace of his thrusts. "Low costs, high margins. A few million in three months? Child’s play."

Angela’s lips curled. "Perfect." Her gaze flicked to the bag of Celestial Bliss on her desk, the faint pink glow of the powder pulsing like a heartbeat. "But what about the pure product? The source?"

Darya screamed, her back arching as Stefano hilted himself inside her, his claws digging into her hips.

"Can’t say," Stefano growled, his hips snapping forward, stretching Darya wide. "I’m just the middleman."

Angela scoffed, crossing her legs, the slit in her dress parting to reveal a glimpse of black lace. "Getting head from my best girl isn’t enough sincerity for you?"

Stefano laughed, yanking Darya’s head back, his cock twitching inside her as he edged her ruthlessly. "She’s doing this because she wants to. The **** just removes the lies."

Angela’s breath hitched.

"So it reveals the truth?" she murmured, her fingers trailing along her own collarbone.

"Something like that," Stefano grinned, his fangs glistening. "Less inhibitions. More honest fucking."

Angela’s thighs pressed together, her cunt throbbing. "You have a breeding kink, don’t you?"

Stefano shrugged, his hips rolling as Darya whined, her nails scraping at his thighs. "Depends on who I’m dealing with."

The mature woman was too mesmerized by the sight before her, completely lost in the incubus' lurid breeding symphony as he rutted against Angela's loyal guard, making sure the broken slut wouldn't be able to walk on her feet for days.

"I know what you desire, lady Liegi" Stefano murmured, his voice laced with compulsion. "Kasimir is weak. His empire is rotting. And you... you burn with ambition."

Angela’s large breasts rose and fell, her nipples pebbling beneath her dress.

"ENOUGH!" she snapped, her smoky contralto cracking like a whip.

Silence.

Then—

"A deadweight," she whispered, the word bitter on her tongue.

Stefano smirked, pulling Darya off him, his cock glistening with her juices. "Took you long enough."

Angela laughed, a dark, hollow sound. "Do you think you’re the first pretty boy to whisper treason in my ear?"

Stefano grinned, stroking his length slowly. "Then why haven’t you killed me?"

Angela’s eyes flicked to the bag of Celestial Bliss. "You interest me."

Stefano tossed the bag onto her desk. "500 grams. Pure."

Angela stiffened. "Half a kilo? What am I supposed to do with this? There is no way this can supply..."

Stefano held up a finger. "Half a gram to six liters."

Angela’s breath caught. "W-what?"

"The ratio," Stefano purred. "Your chemists can test it."

Angela’s fingers trembled as she reached for the bag, the powder glowing faintly in her palm. "What is this made of? I'm serious, this kind of thing can't just be..."

Stefano grinned, his fangs bared.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Stefano stretched, the half-Nigerian man's muscles rippling beneath his dark skin, the sex demon's claws tapping idly against the armrest. "Does it even matter? You’ve seen what it does."

Darya whimpered beneath him, the blonde vixen's lithe fingers twitching toward her own pussy, still aching and empty.

Angela’s lips curled. "It matters if I’m going to sell it. My clients aren’t stupid. They’ll want to know what they’re putting in their veins—or their lovers’ mouths."

Stefano chuckled, low and dark. "Fair enough." He leaned forward, the incubus' golden eyes burning into hers. "It’s me."

Angela froze.

"Excuse me?"

Stefano grinned, his fangs glinting. "The pure product? That’s incubus essence. Dried, refined, perfected."

Angela’s breath hitched. "You’re joking."

"Try it." Stefano’s voice dropped to a hypnotic purr. "A pinch under your tongue. Just to see."

Angela’s fingers trembled. She should have called her guards. She should have had this creature shot. But the powder glowed, and her body burned, and—

She dipped a finger into the bag.

The moment the Celestial Bliss touched her tongue, her world exploded.

Pleasure detonated in her veins, white-hot and consuming. Her back arched, her tits heaving, her pussy flooding with wetness. A moan tore from her throat, raw and uncontrolled.

"F-FUCK!"

Stefano laughed, watching as the prim, controlled mafia queen dissolved into a cheap slut before his eyes.

"Told you," he murmured.

Angela’s hips rolled, her fingers clawing at her dress, **** to touch, to feel.

"Y-you bastard," she panted, her voice shaking.

Stefano stood, his fat cock bobbing as he stalked toward her. "Oh, Angela... you haven’t seen anything yet."

...

Then, a voice cut through the tension like a scalpel.

"Enough."

The door swung open, and Annette Schwarz stepped inside.

"Ooh, another kitten..."

Tall, austere, her silver hair coiled into a severe bun, the hypnotist moved with the predatory grace of a wolf among sheep. Her ice-blue eyes locked onto Stefano, and for the first time since entering Casino Liegi, the incubus felt the faintest prickle of resistance.

"Ah," Stefano purred, his grin widening. "The real power behind the throne. It wouldn't be fun without a grey eminence, right?"

Annette didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, she placed a single, gloved hand on Angela’s shoulder—grounding her.

"Breathe," Annette murmured, her soft contralto a hypnotic lull. "Remember who you are."

Angela jerked, her pupils dilating as Annette’s will flooded her mind, burning away Stefano’s aphrodisiac haze like acid on silk.

"Huu..."

Stefano hissed, his claws flexing. "Tch. Rude."

Annette’s lips curled into a cold smile. "You reek of desperation, incubus. Barging into our domain, waving your cock around like it’s a negotiation tactic. Young men these days have no class..."

Stefano laughed, rolling his hips lazily, his length bobbing obscenely. "Worked well enough on Darya."

Annette’s gaze flicked to the blonde, still whimpering on the couch, the Russian's beauty's fingers kneading her own breasts. "Pitiful. But Angela is not some mindless slut to be bent over your knee."

Angela stiffened, her spine straightening as Annette’s hypnosis sealed the cracks in her resolve. The hunger in her hazel eyes cooled, replaced by the steel of a woman who had clawed her way to power.

"You dare speak of Kasimir?" Angela snarled, her voice steady now, lethal. "You dare walk into my casino and insult my husband?"

Stefano shrugged, his smirk never fading. "I dare to speak the truth. And you know it."

Annette’s fingers twitched, her hypnotic will pressing against Stefano’s own incubus dominance like two blades grinding together.

"Enough games," Annette snapped. "State your real business, or I erase your mind and feed your corpse to the Po."

Stefano’s grin sharpened. "Oh, Annette... I was hoping you’d say that."

He snapped his fingers.

"O-OHMYGODD!! YES!!!!"

Darya screamed, the broken slut's back arching as another wave of Celestial Bliss ignited in her veins. Her fingers dug into her sopping pussy, the blonde vixen's wide hips bucking as she came violently, her scream echoing through the room.

Angela flinched, her resolve wavering for just a second—

—and Stefano struck.

His incubus will slammed into Annette’s mental barriers, testing, probing.

"Nnngh!!"

Annette gritted her teeth, her hypnotic defenses holding—but barely.

"You’re strong," Stefano murmured, admiring. "But strength alone won’t save Kasimir’s empire."

Angela slammed her palms onto the desk, the charming beauty's huge breasts heaving. "Enough! What the fuck do you want?"

Stefano leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dark purr.

"I want you, Angela. Not as a whore—as a partner."

Annette snarled, but Stefano ignored her, his eyes locked on Angela’s.

"Kasimir is weak. His heir is weak. The Morettis are rotting from within. But you—" His claw traced her jawline. "—you burn with ambition."

Angela’s breath hitched.

"With my product and your empire, we could rule Piedmont within a year," Stefano whispered, his voice laced with compulsion. "No more begging for scraps. No more watching as lesser men destroy what you built."

Annette lunged, her gloved hand clamping around Stefano’s throat—

—but Angela stopped her with a single glance.

Silence.

Then—

"Prove it," Angela demanded, the Casino matron's erotic contralto low, dangerous.

Stefano grinned, his fangs glistening.

"Gladly."