The One With Horns, A Tail, A Living Body, And Walking Toward You (Spirit Chain Succubus)

Across the room, coming in from another end of the bal room, a tall, light glocie green skinned woman moves into view. Along the floor, she walks with bare feet, four black metal cuffs around both her ankles and her wrists but with no chains. Her large hips sway from side to side, her thighs and groin bare in the air, a patch of black hair mounted above her sex, exposed from a thin chain around her waist with strands of torn obsidian fabric flowing in the fog, her belly somewhat plump as well as her breasts, hidden under a black metal bra, laced with tiny metal chains over her shoulders and sides with two large wings sprouting from her back. Their limbs are made of a black flesh while the wings themselves are a spectral green mist that trails off at the bottom.

Around her neck, another black metal collar is locked, studded with flawless emeralds. Hanging from it, a heart shaped locket made entirely of emerald with a hole in the center resembling a keyhole. Her face is very fair, large wonderful black painted lips over a small chin, a long slightly pointy nose between a pair of shimmering emerald eyes, her long black hair rolled up into a bun, two black horns protruding from the sides of her forehead, curled once in a loop.

Her steps cause the old wooden floor to creek as her approach is followed with her grabbing the locket in her right hand, an emerald light flashing between her fingers, the yellow fog quickly shifting to a green hue, the spirits and ghosts all dropping to the floor as their collars burn in a green light, forcing them to the ground as they all moan and wriggle on the bal room floor, clutching their genitalia as a snicker bellows from her end of the room. She walks up to a spectral male figure and places her foot onto his cock, her toes merely pressing the top before causing the figure to yelp and jet an ectoplasmic ooze from the tip onto her foot. She chuckles and continues forward, turning her gaze to you.

Though she is obviously a succubus, she must be a higher ranking one, a mistress or possibly even a matriarch. Succubi can be as varied as humans, each type with special powers and abilities all focused on appealing to their victim's sexual desire, from bondage and BBW to the taboo and domination. This one imparticular looks to be a Spirit Chain Succubus. A Spirit Chain Succubus is one of the more unheard of types. This succubus, instead of simply draining a person of their soul through sex, claims ownership over their victim's spirit through forcing them to orgasm. Once the succubus causes their prey to orgasm, they will pull their prey's spirit from their body and enslave their soul, making them into a spectral entity by branding them in some way, either with an actual brand or with restrains such as cuffs and collars. They will then continuously draw energy by partially feasting on their soul through sex over a longer period of time to enjoy their catch. The person's soul will be forever bonded with the succubus, trapped and linked to her, always needing to remain close by or be forcibly brought right back and pay tribute in whatever way the succubus is most accustomed to.

Most of this type will claim multiple spirits, having a virtual army of the dead to saet their hunger for sex, feasting on all of them a few at a time to allow them to rest and regain their energy, providing the succubus with a nearly limitless source to feed and a variety to choose from, keeping all they claim in a stat of sexual limbo forever. Those who are claimed are said to be filled with as much lust as their succubus, causing them to often look for satisfaction in others the succubus has claimed when she herself is unavailable. They are also bound by the word of the succubus, **** to do anything she asks of them, no matter how unwilling the victim is.

The succubus walks toward you as all the spirits still squirm on the floor. She gives you an odd glance as a tongue parts her lips to circle them. She looks with two bright gemstones in the center of her eyes, windows to the soul that pry yours wide open, making them into doorways for her to creep inside your thoughts, getting so much useful information from you with a single stare. She stands at the other side of the marble, waiting. She might be waiting for you to move first, or even talk to her, but she hasn't stopped staring.