Fallen: A Hasting Joining (Succubus/Vampire) (Futa/Fem) (Mind Control) (Curse)

Story by stgmilleralive

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Hello, I just joined today and decided to impart my mark on the forum with a recent story I wrote on commission. It's set in a established fantasy world, "Fallen", and it's a 'porn with story' entry and I'm sure it'll have an audience here.

I see no reason to give any more big introductions or anything else, this is the third forum I've wrote stories on and so I want to try something new here. Basically a cold dip into the world to see how people respond. If that makes you uneasy then just know I acknowledge the fact my readers love: violence, sex, and mystery.

I've divided it in two parts. Both parts are about five pages long in MSWord.

Part one: Mostly introduction, no sex, blood and violence with a pinch of mystery and bleakness.

A Hasting Joining

Part One

“Arrga! Fuck that burns,” the soldier growled lowly as the Lightbearer poured a pouch of alcohol over the gash on his hand. “Can’t you just use some of that flashy-healy-light?” he asked, fixing the soiled bandages around his pencil-thin neck.

The Lightbearer grinned, her bloody, gloved hands still comforting the wounded man. “Not every cut can be healed by Melittale’s Light. Now Guardian, act like a man and I might just give you a parting kiss…”

The soldier’s smiling teeth were dried black with his blood. “Surviving a halberd to the throat is one thing; being kissed by such a lovely lady would make my day.”

Zaeilla of the Heart Mire sighed deeply as she lifted herself off the wet floor of the tent. She wiped the dirt from her chainmail pants, satin-gloved hands jiggling chainmail around her wide hips. “I’ve had my nap amongst the wounded,” she said with a yawn, arching her curved back, stretching her shadowy wings. “The Heart Mire calls me,” she said to the Lightbearer.

The girl turned from her Guardian patient, “You’ve done too much for me to repay, Zae.” Her glowing eyes, radiating with Melittale’s Light, warmed the Succubus's heart.

Zae ran a hand through her chest-length auburn hair, curling the end around her bulging breasts suspended in chainmail. “We Succubi don’t believe in debts,” she said with thin lips painted dark crimson. “It’s all about exchanges,” she continued with a wave of her short, thin fingers, “and consequences.”

“And hot arses,” a wounded soldier in his bed mumbled as he stared at the flawless cheeks pointed directly at his face.

Zae admired the attention, faking coyness; she popped her hips with each step towards the Lightbearer. She held out