A Succubus For Christmas (7 page)

“This is a special place,” the taxi driver said. He sounded almost awed. “Can you feel it?”

There was an odd feeling to the place, Fowler thought. His hairs were standing on end as if he'd just walked into a field of static electricity. It was a little weird. He was also surprised to find he felt a little turned on as well. Maybe the excitement was getting to him. Maybe he needed to get laid more than he'd originally thought.

The taxi driver opened the door at the end of the corridor and the first thing that struck Fowler was the heat. It was very hot inside and humid, like a hothouse, yet the room on the other side of the door was dark and vast. They went through the door and found themselves standing on a metal platform staring out at formless darkness both ahead, above and below them. The room was so large and dark they couldn't see any of the other walls.

“Where are the girls?” Miller asked.

“Wait,” the taxi driver said, “here they come.”

Fowler heard a sigh, but the acoustics were strange. It was like an echo, but from so far off it didn't even sound like it came from this world.

Forms descended down out of the darkness. They were female. At least partly.

The upper part of their bodies was definitely recognisable as female. They were naked and beautiful beyond description. All had the delicate high cheekbones, perfectly rounded breasts and large soft eyes of top models.

No, their beauty was beyond that. They were an ideal of feminine beauty. Any could have displaced the latest model sensation from the cover of a fashion magazine with ease.

At least until you looked at the bottom half of their bodies. At first it looked like they were each sitting on a bulbous green sac, nearly big enough to hold a person. Then you looked closely at the waists and saw how the pale white flesh of what should have been their legs formed an unbroken hoop of flesh around the opening to the sac. Currently the hoop was tightly closed.

The sac beneath them was bulbous, green and shaped a little like a vase. It looked like it might be part of a plant.

Definitely part of a plant, Fowler thought. The sac curled round and upwards into a thick green vine that stretched up into the darkness above them. A separate thick stalk ran out of the back of the sac, just below the girl's waist, and entwined upwards around the other vine.

“What are they?” Fowler asked.

And why did they make him feel so horny?

“Souls of former whores, sprouting up from the shores of hell itself,” the taxi driver said. “During the second world war Prague was occupied by Nazi Germany. They used to bring pretty local girls here to 'entertain' the soldiers. It was bad enough normally, but in 1945, with the Soviet tanks poised to take the city, the soldiers went far beyond even those levels of depravity. What they did to the women was so monstrous it tore a fracture in the wall that separates our existence from that parallel dimension we refer to as hell. These precious blooms are all that remain of the souls of those poor girls.”

“They look like someone crossed a stripper with a pitcher plant,” Chris said. “Are they dangerous?”

“They are souls in torment,” the taxi driver said. “Life was unkind to them and so in their afterlife they crave the embrace of a warm, living body.”

“Pitcher plants are carnivorous,” Chris pointed out.

“You've got nothing to fear from these,” the taxi driver said. “All that remains of their wretched souls is an unquenchable desire to provide pleasure. Don't feel that you're taking advantage of them. They need to please as much as you want to be pleased.”

“This is a bit fucking weird if you don't mind me saying,” Fowler said.

The plant-like features extended into the girl's upper bodies. Their pale skin was flecked with green and long tresses of leafy vines cascaded down onto pale shoulders instead of hair.

“Yes, but you won't find pleasure like it anywhere in this reality,” the taxi driver said with a knowing smile.

The girls held their arms out to them. As one they sighed and the mouths of their bulbous pitchers fell open. The air was flooded with a sickly sweet scent. The thick aroma left Fowler feeling a little foggy. He was aware of a sudden tightness in his trousers as his cock strained against the material. It was difficult to think. He had the sudden overwhelming urge to fuck something, anything, right now.

“How do we fuck them?” Miller asked.

A girl descended right down so that the opening to her pitcher was just below the level of the platform.

“Take off your clothes and slide in,” the taxi driver said. “Then relax and leave everything to her. She'll show you pleasures you never even dreamed existed.”

Fowler was already ripping off his shoes and socks. On the other side of him Terry was tearing off his shirt like a man possessed.

“I'll come back in a couple of hours after you've finished,” the taxi driver said, shambling off. Fowler barely heard him.

“Uh guys, are we sure this is a good idea?” Only Chris seemed reluctant.

Fowler had kicked off his trousers and was removing his shirt when he thought, whoa, what are you doing here? This was all a bit damn fucking weird when you thought about it.

The opening of her pitcher twitched and the air was thick again with that sickly sweet scent. It pervaded Fowler's lungs and roared through his blood like fizzing magma.

On either side of him Fowler saw Miller and Terry carried up and away in the embrace of two of the plant girls. His girl waited for him, arms outstretched, at the edge of the platform.

“Climb in,” the girl said in a voice that seemed to be both there and simultaneously an echo from a great distance away.

Fowler scooted to the edge of the platform on his butt and sat with his legs over the edge. He looked like someone about to enter a swimming pool but trying to delay the shock of actually entering the cold water.

His naked foot rested on the fleshy hoop of the opening. He dropped his other foot over the rim. The inside of the pitcher felt warm and moist.

Fowler pushed himself off the platform's edge and fell forward into her embrace. His feet slid down the inside of her pitcher until they came to rest on a spongy material at the bottom. It felt like two legs wrapping around him as the opening to the pitcher closed around his midriff. Her arms wrapped around his upper body and drew him tight to her body. He felt her soft breasts against his chest.

A hand moved up his back, gripped the back of his head and pushed him forward into a kiss that flooded his body with the scent of a meadow on a warm summer morning. Fowler didn't even notice as the girl took him up and away from the platform edge.

“That was...wonderful,” Fowler said after she finally broke off the kiss. “What's your name?”

The girl looked puzzled at the question, as if the concept of name might have meant something to her in the past, but now no longer held any meaning.

Fowler tried again.

“I'm James and you are?”

“Your pleasure,” the girl replied. She gripped his shoulders and began to massage them while rubbing her breasts against his chest in circular movements.

That she certainly was, Fowler thought. Those hands were expert, finding and kneading out every little knot in the muscles of his neck and back. And those breasts...fuck names when she was doing this to him.

There was still something not right and it involved Fowler's cock. Currently it was as hard as an iron bar and lying flat against his belly. So how exactly was he supposed to fuck her?

“Um, this is lovely,” Fowler said. “But how do I make love to you?”

The girl put her hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes and smiled. She relaxed the opening of the pitcher, letting Fowler fall back a little. She reached in and put a hand around Fowler's erect cock. Then she contracted the opening, pulling Fowler forward. As she pulled him closer she guided the head of his cock into a tight channel filled with thick syrupy liquid just beneath the opening to her pitcher.

Fuck, that felt good, Fowler thought.

He flexed his buttocks and began to thrust into the honey-filled hole. Thick syrup oozed out and dribbled onto his legs. He felt a tightness across his buttocks and realised she had closed the opening around him and was helping him thrust into her.

Fuck, that felt fucking good.

The cushioned hoop of the opening felt like strong legs wrapped around his buttocks, driving him on. She wrapped her arms around his upper body and drew him close for another passionate kiss. Her midriff moved sinuously against his as he thrust in and out of the honeyed well in her inner wall.

He was still kissing her when he opened one eye and saw the tangle of vines that suspended her were trembling with some kind of internal tension. He watched as the walls of the vine swelled and the swelling passed downwards. A warm sticky liquid welled up between his toes and lapped at the top of his feet.

“What's this?” Fowler asked, apprehensive. Chris's comments about carnivorous plants and the unwelcome image of his legs being eaten away by acid entered his mind.

“You're making me wet,” the girl said. “My juices will heighten your pleasure.”

More bulges ran down the vine as she pumped more liquid into her pitcher. It rose up past Fowler's calves and then above his knees.

“I hope you're not trying to digest me,” he said, smiling as he put his arms around her body.

He didn't feel worried. If it was acid he'd feel pain or a loss of feeling. Instead the liquid seemed to magnify his sense of touch as it bathed his skin.

“Fuck!” Fowler exclaimed.

The liquid had reached and enveloped his balls. The tingling sensation sank right into his sac and sent pleasurable sparks ricocheting through his nerves.

The girl smiled and continued to caress his shoulders.

That felt...Fowler didn't have words to describe how good that felt.

This was pure fucking heaven. He lay back and relaxed in her embrace. He let the gentle contractions and relaxations of her opening languorously dip his cock back and forth into the squelchy honey of her internal vagina. His thrusts set the liquids of the pitcher in motion and he basked in the feeling of the warm currents swirling through his legs and tickling his balls.

Meanwhile her hands, breasts and soft lips were driving his upper body crazy. Lost soul from hell? Fuck that. She felt like an angel from heaven to Fowler.

Chris was the biggest muppet in the world for walking away from this.

He wondered how Terry and Miller were getting on. He looked around.

Miller's girl was really fucking lively. He spotted them as they hung in the darkness a few metres away. Her pitcher was pulsating like crazy and he could see Miller pistoning in and out of her through the movements of his back. Her hands were hooked around him and clawing his flesh in ecstasy.

He turned to where Terry lay in the embrace of another girl. Terry's upper body lay slumped against her as her pitcher gently pulsed around Terry's lower body. The girl looked over Terry's shoulder right at him and smiled.

He watched as Terry's body jerked with each pulsation of her pitcher and a bulge travelled upwards. Then he realised in horror Terry's body was shrinking. It was deflating like a balloon.

Fowler tried to climb out of her. His feet thrashed, but he couldn't get any purchase on her slippery inner walls. His legs just slid and slipped. He tried to grip the sides of the opening, but they'd also exuded some kind of slippery mucus and his hands kept slipping.

“Let me fucking go!” Fowler shouted.

The fluid in her pitcher was thick and tired out his legs quickly as he kicked and thrashed within it. The pitcher expanded, becoming a little deeper and Fowler dropped within it until his head was level with her breasts. His hands slipped on the opening and were pinioned against his hips as the cushioned hoop closed tight around his body.

“Your struggles are futile, little fly,” the girl said. “You can't escape my trap. Relax and let pleasure take you.”

What was she doing?

Within her pitcher his cock was gripped by a powerful suction. It was drawn back into the honey-filled channel, only this time the orifice had come alive and the soft walls gently throbbed against his cock.

And why did it feel so good?

She put her arms around the back of his head and smothered his face in the lush cleavage between her breasts. The walls of her pitcher gently pulsed, driving his cock deeper into her vaginal opening and swirling the fluids to massage his buttocks and legs.