Mutualism

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*Ren's POV*

My head was pounding as awoke and my eyes tried to focus on the barely lit room. Everything was fuzzy and I could barely make out discernable shapes, however, the harder I tried to view and hopefully recognize my surroundings, the more my vision began to cooperate. The room I was in was dim, the only light was an orange glow from the flame of a couple candles burning in various places, casting dancing shadows against the walls. It appeared the room wasn't a room of plaster, but seemed to be carved out from stone, much like a cave. There wasn't much in terms of furnishings, at least not what I was used to. The entire set up seemed medieval to its core. I attempted to see more when a sudden bout of intense nausea rocked my entire body and I had rest my head back where it laid previously, trying to gain composure of my stomach and gag reflex.

I laid there, with my stomach in knots and sweat streaming from my pours, for what felt like forever, until my symptoms disappeared, or at least wasn't as noticeable. Deciding it was time to explore my foreign environment I attempted to swing my body over the side of the structure I was stretched out on, but my body didn't budge. Instead they strained against some form restraints. I tried to look where I was bound, but my upper body was restricted in such a way that I could lift my head far enough to see my restraints.

My breathing started getting labored and I tried to maintain a mellow head, so that I could think reasonably and plan for escape when the time arrived. I scanned my brain for any indication how I arrived in this strange structure and how I managed to be tied down to this platform that was as hard as a rock, but I could not find an answer to any of those questions.

"You're awake," a familiar voice stated, as a figure approached my form, their footsteps echoing in the room. The person walked in the dim light and after some time examining the woman's features I recognized her. It was Grace, the woman I met the other night at Spades.

"Grace?" I asked, unsure of my current situation. The woman looked stunning. She wore a relatively short yet flowing red dress, with a reasonable dip at her chest, revealing ample cleavage that would bring any other man to his knees. "Where am I?"

She smiled, showing a strait white smile. "Our lair."

"Our lair? Who exactly consists of the word 'our'?" I questioned.

Her eyes were calculating as she decided what say. The anticipation for her response gnawed at my insides as I waited. "Others..... Others like me. Shapeshifters, succubi, incubi, and our friends."

Succubi. Grace was a succubus. A demon. Is that why she captivated me so easily, drawn me in? She hadn't seduced, my intentions were never of a sexual nature. "What do you want from me?" I inquired.

Her grin widened as she peered at me with admiring eyes. "You and me, Renier, we are a good fit." Grace walked over to what appeared to be an unstable table and began fiddling with some of the many objects clattering around. The orange light hit one of the objects and revealed that the tables surface was covered with knives. A familiar emotion struck me and I could easily play it off as fear, however I knew that it was yearning. I craved the pierce of  those blades. "You like receiving pain and I-" she said as she plucked a knife up from the crowd and fingered the tip of the dagger. "I like causing it."

"I don't quite understand what you mean," I lied. I knew what she was suggesting, and adrenaline rushed through me as I desired the blade, the pain. Yet, somehow it felt wrong. I was reluctant to accept what Grace had so blatantly offered.

"Silly boy," Grace chuckled. "I am  your seductress, a succubus. We are perfect for one another and we can achieve mutualism." The woman prowled towards me, her long legs moving in such a way that accentuated the curve of her hips. The knife was still in her hand when she traced a gentle path from my temple down to my chin with her finger nail, sending goosebumps across my flesh. She enjoyed the fact that I was defenseless against her and I believe I may be enjoying it almost as much as she is. She is teasing me, not with her body which I did not crave, but with the possibility of surrendering myself to the torturous cravings. "You, you can fuel my power and I can provide you with your beloved pain."

"Grace, I don't know if this is a very good idea." I wanted it. Bad. Yet, some either severely rational or completely irrational part of me- I hadn't decided which yet- kept screaming DANGER.

Grace traced her finger down my chin, circling my nipple with her sharp nails, and then scratched all the way down my leg. It was that moment that I realized I was naked. And that I was her prey. "I think it is a spectacular idea and if you don't fight too hard I might just let yo live." She hoisted her leg over my side, her skirt draping my naked flesh and straddled my waist. Only when she relaxed her legs and sat over my groin area did I notice she wasn't wearing undergarments. If I wasn't bound and incapable of movement I would have jerked away immediately at the feel of her folds against me. This is wrong. I don't want this. I tried to resist and break free of my chains, but they would not bust. Her smile transformed from something mildly amused to malicious. This wasn't just about pain. This was about desire. Sexual desire. Her sexual please and her gaining of power in return of my pain. "Buckle up, Renier, and prepare for the ride of your life."

There was a flash of silver and suddenly she had imbedded the blade in my side and dragged it down, creating an open cavern in my flesh where blood flowed from in mass amounts. I howled, in a mixture of genuine fury and intense pleasure.

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