Vanessa, the rich neighbour's slut-milf

Vanessa’s garden was quiet, the pool still rippling from his earlier leap. She stood where he’d left her, entranced, her silk robe open, blonde hair catching the moonlight.

*SPLASH!!*

Her aquamarine eyes widened as he emerged, water dripping from his scaled frame, the sex demon's corrupt presence a weight that pressed against her very mind.

"You… you’re back,” she whispered, her smoky contralto trembling, but her voluptuous body leaned toward him, drawn by the pheromones rolling off him in waves. Stefano’s vocal cords were stronger now, his voice a low, hypnotic growl.

“Kneel,” he said, testing the ring’s charm, and she sank to the grass, her thighs parting slightly, her breath shallow. His senses flared—her fertile glow, her arousal spiking, a pulse that screamed ripe.

The ring’s whispers drowned out the last shreds of his reason:

Claim her.

Mark her.

His claws twitched, itching to grab her curves, to bend the Vanessa over and—No. Rebecca’s face flashed, grounding him, but Vanessa was here, willing, a canvas for his power. A willing fertile womb for his corrupt seed.

Stefano stepped closer, looming, his voice weaving a trance. “Look at me,” he commanded, and her eyes locked on his, glazing over, lips parting. “Tell me what you want.” Her answer was a whimper, incoherent, but her body spoke—hips shifting, hands trembling.

Stefano’s mind reeled, torn between the man who’d raised Rebecca and the beast craving conquest. Vanessa was a start, a test, but the ring wanted more—Beatrice, Vanessa's daughter, pale and perky, one of Rebecca’s classmates.

The thought sent a dark thrill through him, his incubus charisma surging, ready to bend another to his will. But Rebecca’s trust lingered, a chain he couldn’t break, not yet.

The night was still young.