After discovering her new roommate is literally the Wraith of her nightmares, Query flees from her dorm room only to fall down the stairs and hurt her hoof. When she goes to her RA to figure out how to get medical attention, she comes across Sasha Beauregard. Sasha is a Vampire stepped out of Carmilla and Dracula, draped in shadow, ambition, and seduction. When she is lured into the affects of Query's Succubus aura, instead of melting and becoming supplicant, Sasha's dominant side flares up. Query is eager to submit, and the two discover how fiery Devil blood is.
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Queers & Queries 3 By Trixie Adara Chapter 3
"You can't ignore me forever," Impa says.
"That's exactly what I plan to do." I stare at my trunks, still closed, still packed. When Finley sensed the tension between Impa and I, she tried to begin an immediate roommate conflict intervention protocol or something, but I shooed her out. The last thing I need is Impa telling everyone on my hall about my past.
"Don't you want to know how I've been in your dreams?" Impa slides close to me. I twist my hand and mutter the incantation for a cantrip of harmless sparks. She hisses and backs away.
"I could lodge a formal complaint for that," she says.
"I'm sure haunting future roommates isn't permissible behavior."
"Psh," Impa waves a twiggy hand with shadow knives for fingers at me dismissively.
"Nobody got hurt."
"My sleep did."
"What would you have rather dreamt of?" She slithers close to me, keeping her distance but doing her best to whisper in my ear. "Alma?"
I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly. I imagine I'm on a mountain, and a —
"A cottage in the woods waits for you," Impa says with disdain. "Yes, go to your mind palace. It's not much to look at."
"Lucy's tits," I mutter. "What is your problem?"
Impa hovers in front of me. She moves silently. Instead of feet, she glides on a cloud of black mist. "It's in my nature to be terrifying." She shrugs.
"You're a Wraith."
"Ooo, said with disdain." She sidles up next to me and sits on the rotting lumber one could call a bed if they were drunk and stupid. "How cruel of you."
"Why are you haunting me?"
She puts her head on my shoulder, but her touch feels like the faint buzz of an electric current before you get shocked, nothing else. "It's how I show love."
I stand up, my body moving through the shadow of her head. "How did you even know we were roommates? I just found out my room got reassigned today, but I've been —"
"Having nightmares of me."
"The mind reading thing is not cute."
She shrugs and shrivels to the floor. The solid black silhouette of her crawls towards me until she rises again, inches from me. "Come now, Q, I'm the perfect —"
"Don't call me that. Only my —"
"Roommate. I'm the only one you can't —"
"Parents or friends call me that. And —"
"Accidentally seduce. Well, except for cuties like Finley. And —"
"You are not my friend."
"Are you saying we're not friends?"
I realize she's backed me up against the door to our cramped room. She leans forward and exhales on my exposed neck. She has no breath, but the pulsing current of her power flutters there, like the edge of a blade to my throat.
"You didn't answer my question," I say. There's nothing pressing against me, and if she tried, I could conjure up a burst of flame to scare her off.
"No." As though at the crack of a whip, Impa straightens. Her fluid movements become jagged and sharp. When her limbs move, it is as though she is a skeleton with no joints whose bones break and reassemble over and over to form a pose. "I didn't." In a crooked flash, like riding the twisting arcs of a bolt of lightning, Impa jumps back to her corner. "Do you know how long I've been haunting you?" Her body fades from my vision, but the shadow of the corner grows, spreading over the room and casting out the tiny slits of light illuminating my shitty room.
An impossible chill creeps over my skin. How long has she been haunting me? Months, right? Since the summer. Since Bo said I was finished studying with him, and it was time for me to go to Dalton.
"Not months," the room whispers to me. "Tell me, Query, when did everything change? When did your mother make that one desperate plea? Healthy for a mother, but foolish for a Devil. She had to know there would be a cost. There's always a —"
I fling the door open and storm down the tiny steps that lead up to the turret. In my haste and horror, I forget exactly how small the steps are. My hoof catches on one of the steps, and then I'm ass over teakettle, tumbling down the stairs and hitting my everything against sharp stone steps repeatedly. But no matter how much it hurts, it's still preferable to being in a room with Impa.
I squish against the magic door at the bottom of the stairs, and apparently my girth and momentum are enough to trigger the mechanism or magic and the door slowly opens. My clothes are skewed and scrambled in what I'm sure is the least flattering way, probably revealing all the skin I've worked so hard to conceal. A hallway full of concerned monsters stare at me as the magic door slides away to reveal the grand prize of one hot mess.
"Oh my gosh," "Holy shit," "Are you okay?" and "OMG" ring out from my neighbors as one lovely Batgirl and Finley rush to me. They pull me to my feet, and while I'm smoothing out my clothes, insisting that I'm alright, and trying to check for injuries, the Batgirl leans in closer and whimpers as my body makes her lose all sense of her manners.
"Seriously, I'm okay," I lie.
"Yeah, and my elbow is going to heal in time," Finley says. "Can you stand?" She pulls me to my hooves, and the Batgirl sneaks in a grope as she looks like she's helping me."
"I got it," I say. I pretend to check my clothes again as an excuse to knock the Batgirl's touch. "Seriously." I take a step forward, and pain spikes up my leg and all over my spine. "Oh fuck fuck fuck," I say and sink down to the ground. Finley catches me and pulls me back up.
Looking down, there is a large crack in my left hoof. I can place the hoof flat, but the slightest amount of weight on it is a nightmare to my nervous system.
"Time to get a tour of the hospital," Finley says. She stoops down and puts my arm over her shoulder. She wraps her arm around me so I can lift my left hoof off the ground. It's a relief, but I don't say so.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."
"Too late," Finley says. "I got it from here, Oona, thanks."
Oona leans forward and whispers in my ear, "If you need help recovering later, I can play doctor." Her tongue darts out and slides up my neck, and if I wasn't experiencing pain, social anxiety, and terror from Impa all at once, I would have dumbly agreed to let her. Thankfully, suffering grants clarity.
"Stay on call, Dr. Oona," my mouth says instead of setting a firm and healthy boundary like Mom keeps coaching me to do. Oona's eyes gleam, and she bites her lip before bouncing away and back to her room, which I can't help but note is room W027.
"Alright, here we go," Finley says, and then we're off. I expect us to reach the door at the end of the hall and make our descent down to the castle proper, but Finley stops at a room just before the exit. "One sec," she says as she leans me up against the door. She steps inside, and I peek around the corner.
Finley's room is best described as part workroom and part junk yard. There are piles of scraps of metal or what appears to be abandoned projects. A giant wooden panel against the far wall might be a bed, but the predominant piece of furniture is a massive metal work bench. Finley reaches into a pile, pulls out a wheel, smells it, recoils, tosses it behind her, and reaches into another pile. Her wrench comes out, and with a flick, she has a blowtorch and is getting to work crafting something.
"One second," Finley says. "Promise we'll make up for lost time. How's the hoof?"
Behind me, a Bunnygirl with nothing but a towel on is approaching with the tell-tale signs of lust in her eyes. I smile politely and then hop on my right hoof until I'm inside Finley's room and the door is closed behind me.
"It's fine," I say. "Hooves crack. It's no big —"
"Right but horseshoes, yeah?"
"Horseshoes?"
Finley looks around the room for something, stepping from pile to pile and tossing discarded options behind her. It's not hard to see how the room became like this. "Yeah, like, that's why horses have horseshoes? To prevent wear and cracks, or they can be used like a cast to help hooves heal, right?"
"I'm not a horse," I say flatly.
"Obviously." Finley stops looking around and glares at her chair. With a flick of her wrist, her wrench is a saw, and she hacks apart her chair. "I'm just talking about hooves in general. Sorry if that was offensive."
"It's fine," I say. I'm not sure if it actually is fine, but being silently offended is preferable to conflict with the one person supporting me here. "Is that what you're doing? Making me horseshoes?"
"No," Finley scoffs with a shake of her head. There is so much product in her pink hair, that it doesn't move no matter how frantic or frenetic she is. I guess I could ask about Reliven if I wanted to return the offensive question volley. Does their hair grow? Does blood replace itself? Does skin heal?
"I wouldn't trust myself with anything like that," Finley says. "Just making it easier to get us from A to B. I doubt your injury will be too much for the clerics downstairs. Besides, I've always wanted to —"
"Oh, hey Finley?" A slender Orc in a tight black tank top and skinny jeans rounds the corner. Her protruding tusks have tiny gold rings on them, and her thick green hair is in a messy ponytail.
"Yeah, Bagrak?" Finley is cross-legged and carefully screwing together a tangle of copper and brass piping.
"I was just wondering if the school provided free condoms?"
"Uh, wow, yeah." Finley looks up. "Gosh, you are all so wound up on your first day. Don't any of you have nerves about the first day of school?"
"I do," I say.
"Some people react to nerves differently," Bagrak says. She steps into the room and places a hand on my lower back.
"Well, yeah, sure. You do you, boss." She closes her eyes as she says, "The student center has them. It's past the harbor in the outer bailey."
Bagrak looks at her, confused.
Finley sighs. "Go outside, go to the lake, follow the shore, go past all the buildings that house boats and other aquatic things, and there should be a rather modern looking building you'd see on a traditional mortal campus. That's the student center."
"Gotcha. Thanks, Finley."
"Mhmm." Finley goes back to work, but Bagrak doesn't leave yet.
"I didn't catch your name," she says in my ear. If my hoof wasn't killing me, and if I thought I could traverse this room without tripping and dying, I would hop away. Or maybe I would hop closer. Maybe as she puts her hand on the back of my thigh, as her thin and strong fingers move under my skirt, maybe I'd lean in closer. Maybe I'd tell her my name and then go with her to find condoms and then make sure they got put to good use. Maybe I'd do what I do every time Alma makes a move on me like the slut I —
"That's Query," Finley says, saving me. "She's hurt her leg."
"Oh, I saw!" Bagrak says, her voice now softer, higher, and full of faux-feminine concern. "Are you alright? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"
"I got it," Finley says. "You go to the student center, but make sure you're back by seven tonight, okay? I'm taking you all to the amphitheater for the dean's welcome speech."
"Absolutely," Bagrak says. Her fingers find the edge of my panties under my tights, and she pulls on them playfully. My body shivers, and she clearly enjoys the effect she has on me. "Catch ya later."
"Later," Finley says without looking up.
Bagrak leaves, and I'm thankful for the quiet. Finley works silently, an intense focus overtaking her. She transforms into an entirely different person, and I have to admit that it's attractive. Not like Bagrak-attractive. It's such a joy to see someone give themselves entirely to a task they love, to get a hidden glimpse into their passions. Finley's wild and erratic nature is gone. She is only one thing right now: a brilliant fucking artificer.
"I don't remember freshmen being this horny. I mean, yeah, horny, but this is out of control." Finley looks up at me. "It's like every person here wants to devour you."
"Yeah. Sorry about that."
"Oh, no reason to apologize. I mean, you're pretty. I totally get in an objective sense that people would want to touch your parts and have you touch their parts." She gives the first sarcastic thumbs up I've ever seen in my life. "Do you, boo. I just figured there would be ..." She shrugs. "I don't know."
"Self-control?' I offer.
"Yeah. That."
I cross my hooves again, leaving my weight on my right hoof and tucking my left hoof behind it. "That's kinda my fault."
Finley scoffs. "Victim blaming? What, dressing for the Russian winter in the middle of August in DC is this generation's version of `asking for it?'"
I laugh. "It's the girl, not the clothes."
Finley smiles. "See. Confidence?" She tilts her magic wrench — currently operating as a wrench — at me and lets it bounce to punctuate her points. "Now that's attractive."
"Well, it's more my blood than my personality." I point to my horns. "Half-Devil. Mom's a Succubus. People just kinda ..." I shrug. "Want to fuck me."
Finley scoffs. "Jesus, that sounds like Hell. Pardon my French."
"Which word do you think offends me: Jesus or Hell?"
Finley pauses her busy fingers and looks right at me. Not in my direction. Not longingly into my eyes. Not at my body. At me. Right. At. Me.
"I like you, Query Nolastname. You're five by five."
"I like you too, Finley Farragut."
"Oooo, bonus points for remembering my full name." Finley gets back to work. "Well, almost full name. Middle name is Mildred."
"Oof."
"I know, right? No alliteration? Talk about lazy."
I release my weight against the wall of Finley's room as relief surges through me. Talking to her is almost as good as talking to Alma. It doesn't fix everything — like my roommate problems, for example — but it's enough to finally let me stop clenching my jaw.
"Out of curiosity," I say. "You don't feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"Attracted to me?"
Finley looks up at me as though my head has burst into flame. "Oh gosh, I —"
"Not like that. Hells." The relaxation vanishes. "I mean, the pull. The compulsion. My aura that makes Bagrak and Oona and all the rest go a little nuts. Do you feel it?"
"Is it happening right now?"
"Yes? I can't turn it off as far as I know."
Finley squints at me. "No? Yes? Maybe?" She shrugs. "I think you're barking up the wrong tree?"
"It normally doesn't care if the girl is straight."
Finley's smile widens to her tattoo. "Definitely not what the heteros would call straight. But I don't think I'd bang my boo on our wedding night, you know? Even before death did me part, I was more of a holding-hands girl than a make-me-cum girl." She shivers. "Ugh, that word."
"You're ace?"
"Wizards" Finley says as she gets back to work. "Nothing gets past them."
There's a knock on the doorframe, and Finley and I turn to see the sultry vampire I've seen lurking around campus today. She looks like a combination of Morticia Addams and Jessica Rabbit. Her hair is a black waterfall of silky black hair touching the back of her thighs. Her skin is white as ash, and her lips are the deepest shade of purple. Her black dress that looks more like a cocktail dress or extravagant red-carpet look is shimmering black that hugs the curves of her hourglass figure and shoves up her barely covered breasts so they're almost spilling out.
"Finley, we have an emergency," she says. Her posh exterior is weakened with a look of worry, but her aristocratic Southern accent still makes her sound dignified. "One of the Bunnyfolk broke their leg."
Finley's eyes widen, and she turns to me. "Go. I'll be fine," I say.
Finley nods and yanks hard on the contraption she was fiddling with. A full-blown wheelchair unfolds in front of us in steampunk styled brass and copper. Finley shoves it down the hallway and jumps on the back as she rides it down the hallway of freshmen girls. There are shouts as people dive out of the way, but Finley is gone from sight, and I'm left with what may be the hottest creature I've ever seen.
"Hope she's okay," I say.
"She'll be fine," the Vampire drawls. She closes the door to Finley's room and latches it. "I made sure it was a clean break."
"You ... what?" I gawk at her as she floats toward me, invading my personal space like she's its landlord.
"So, you're what all the fuss is about." She runs a long fingernail down my cheek. I try to step away, but the wall behind me and the injury to my foot makes that almost impossible.
"What f-fuss?"
"You reek of Hell." Her finger hooks into the thick collar of my sweater and tugs it down, exposing my neck. "And it's driving the girls wild."
"I don't do it on purpose," I say. "My mother is a —" A moan escapes as her other hand presses against my thigh. Without hesitation, she moves closer and closer to the hidden parts of me — one hand creeping between my legs and the other ready to cup my breasts.
"I don't give a glorified fuck how or why you do it." Her hands meet at my waist. Will they slide under my sweater and go up? Will they reach into my skirt and tights and go down? "There can only be one predator in this hall."
"Go ahead. Take it. I don't want it." The words spill out of me. "Seriously."
She leans in, the sharp features of her face like a blade that will spill the hot blood in my throat. But before she sinks into me and has her drink — as we both already know she will — she inhales my scent from the neck to the back of my ear.
"Mmmm, where is all that yum coming from?" Her voice is like honey dripping over me, slowly making its way down my body. Every nerve tingles as I sink into this moment. I know what she wants. I know I'm going to give it to her. It isn't about what I want anymore; her taking me is an inevitability. My mother's magic makes her a predator, but it makes me eternal prey. I've been biologically predestined to lure in huntresses and melt before them.
"There it is," she says when she sees my hand. The skin is scored and scratched from the fall down the stairs and my lingering black blood has stained the flesh. Without permission or hesitation, the Vampire runs her long tongue over the meat of my palm. The cold metal of her tongue's piercing tickles the flesh, and shivers ripple over my body from where she tastes me. My knees soften. My mind fuzzes. I fall against the wall, but she follows, pressing her cold body against my hot one.
"Oh, fuck," I gasp as her tongue slithers over the sensitive skin of my hand. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
"If you insist," she says, and then with a strength I can't imagine from her slender frame, she releases my hand and pushes down on my shoulders. I cry out in pain as I put weight back on my cracked hoof, but then my legs bend, and I sink to my knees before her.
"Go on, Hellion," she says as she grabs the back of my hair, holding my braid tight. "Fuck."
My limbs move on their own. I know vampires are capable of powerful glamours and enchantments, but I don't know if this is her body's spell or mine. My fingers tremble as they search for the bottom of her seemingly liquid gown.
"Hurry," the Vampire says. "We don't have long." She pulls my face against her crotch, and I inhale the rich scent of her desire. It doesn't matter if they're a Vampire, a Dwarf, or Devil, I've found all women smell the same when they want me. It is its own irresistible scent — its own spell. I nuzzle the mound of her pleasure, and she pulls tighter on my braid, trying to drown me in her. I release a muffled moan and frantically move faster, trying to get her dress up and over my head.
"Jesus, you're pathetic," she says. She releases the back of my head, and in one smooth motion, the dark curtain of her dress wraps around me, and I am left in shadow. But I don't need light to know the curves and secrets of a woman's body. My biology attracts women, but it also tells me how to please them. In my bones, I am designed to make women like this Vampire cum.
I pull down the thin and delicate fabric of her panties, but she doesn't have patience for foreplay. Once again, her strong hand is on the back of my head, pulling me deeper into her. My face is pressed against her wet and smooth pussy, and I have to turn my head to the side to breathe. The Vampire doesn't care. She leans against the wall behind me, spreads her legs wider, and pushes hard on the back of my head. Slowly, her hips and pelvis grind against my face as she lets out tiny exhalations of pleasure.
"There we go," she says as she presses me deeper, cutting off my breath and autonomy. She doesn't want me to eat her out; she wants to use my face as a sex toy. I almost panic as I drown in her juices, but she's too strong to fight. Fear isn't useful here; obedience is the only way out. Even through the fabric of her dress on the back of my head and neck, her fingers are sharp and cold. The numbness spreads down my body as I realize some kind of spell is taking over me. Not a spell for pleasure and service. A spell for pain and subjugation.
"Don't fight it." She grinds her hips harder like riding her pillow. Though I can't imagine a woman like her needs to fuck a pillow out of horny desperation. Not when she can get girls like me to be her fucktoy.
"Be a good girl for Mommy," she says, and I almost black out. For the first time in life, the pleasure of sex and arousal isn't in my body or on my skin. Nerve endings aren't involved at all as pure bliss is injected straight into my brain. Like the voice of Lucifer herself has commanded me, I descend to the great presence of her eternal darkness and find Nirvana. I am, for the first time in my life, truly and fully, a good girl.
My hands fumble with the top of my tights as I try to get my fingers inside of me. I know she's cum already in the way only a Succubus can know, but she's not done yet. I know my aura is going to drive her wild and deeper. It lowers inhibitions and makes people desperate to obey their libidos. She might very well drown me in her pussy, but I won't stop her. Not if that makes me her good girl.
Now in control of my body, I don't just let her ride my face. I force my tongue deep inside her and get to work. She doesn't stop humping me stupid, and I wouldn't want her to. I can make her feel better than this. We can go deeper and further if she stays this brutal and relentless. A good girl. I'll be her good girl.
"You're mine," she says as her thighs tremble around my face. "You're fucking mine." I heat the tip of my tongue slightly, sending new pleasure through her, pleasure I'm sure she's never felt before. "You're fucking m—uhhhh." Her legs lock and squeeze the side of my face. We hold still in this moment as her orgasm rocks every cell in her body. The only motion between us is the furious pumping of my fingers inside of me. I'm close. It won't take much. She's already called me a good girl. This orgasm will pale in comparison to the bliss she's given me.
"Forever," she says when she catches her breath. More fumbling. Light stings my eyes as the curtain of her dress falls away from me. I gasp as she grabs the scruff of my sweater and hauls me to her feet. Her eyes are dangerous. There is a hunger deeper than any lust I've seen before. Her dark lips move from a predatory smile to a wide bite as her fangs inch closer to my neck.
"Wait," I beg, still desperately fingering myself. I'm close. So close. I can't stand it. "Don't kill me yet. Let me cum first."
She laughs, and the sound is cruel and lovely. It gives me time to move faster, to get closer. I swear to Lucy I can cum in just a few seconds. All I need is —
The Vampire is a blur as she yanks away the top of my sweater.
My fingers move faster.
Her mouth is wide.
My breath is ragged.
Her fangs press against my lavender skin.
My back arches.
Her fangs pierce my soft flesh.
My body surges with heat.
My blood stains her lips.
Fire erupts my wound.
I cum.
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