Centuries...
For centuries, those who summoned me were greasy, dirty bastards. Their lustful eyes and aching hands chased me day and night.
I was indifferent.
I was an object of desire, a creature of lust and basic animalistic needs. With each Master I acquired, it was always the same: fear, curiosity, and insatiable lust. Perhaps that was the way things needed to be. Perhaps not. But it was dull, year after year, decade after decade. I watched countless die, whether it be of old age, corruption, or a stray demon slaying them on the spot. I could only watch with a flicker of my tail and a smile upon my lips as the creatures got what was coming to them: death. How many times had I stood above their dying bodies, hoof pressed against their chest, watching as the life-force slipped away? Too many times to count. I am ancient. And I will live for centuries more.
But then, things changed.
Free, with no Master to control, it had been decades since I slaved away under a man's rule. So when the unfamiliar tug of magic ripped at my very being, a growl curved at my lips, and my body dissipated, only to reappear in a very unfamiliar, very luminous room.
My eyes were blinded by the light; so long in the darkness had weakened my eyes, and it took what seemed like centuries to adjust. A deep hissing echoed from my throat, as as the blinding light lessened, I took my clawed hands away, blinking quickly, my blurry vision readjusting.
The room was of elvish construction; from the bright reds and golds, it could only be of Sin'dorei decor. Highly suspicious, I gazed upon the room, hand reaching for the whip which sat upon my wide hips, fingers curling around the ebony rope in anticipation. What sort of pervert had summoned me for his own pleasures? It wasn't until I turned completely around that my reservations were debunked; staring at me, her eyes wide and fearful, was a red-headed woman, her vividly green eyes widened in surprise. I wasn't even able to say a word before she picked up a leatherbound tome, which I was certain weighed more than her.
"I was certain that this was supposed to summon a felstalker," she murmured hurriedly to herself, flipping through pages frantically, her imp peeking at me from behind her skirts. "Succubi have always killed their masters...this isn't what I expected..."
She was a sweet girl, innocent, far from the mentality of what a warlock should have. There wasn't a lustful bone in her body, and as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, looking for her fault in her spell, I stepped forward, my polished, ebony hooves clicking against the floor loudly, causing the woman to face again.
"Stay back!" she exclaimed, backing into the wall, her imp squeaking as she nearly tripped over him. "You're n-not what I want!" Fear was visible upon her face as she gulped, as every last master I ever had. But this one was different; looks were nothing to her. While the physical perfection and the scantily clad appearance of my body would draw even the most self-controlled and faithful man to my feet, this woman held no such though in her mind. There was an innocence in her eyes as they fixed upon my own, icy blue hues, and I knew this was the master I had been waiting for for millenia.
"You're not getting rid of me so easily, sweetheart," I had purred, tracing my fingers across her cheek, my voice like velvet. "Accidental or not, I am yours to command however you would like." While it was the truth, I would also test her. If she were to use me for her own personal pleasure, then so be it, but her end would meet her sooner than it should. But if she did not, then I would work for her as she wanted. Succubi were known for devouring those who used them for pleasure; even I had my fair share of victims, mainly men, that I had happily destroyed. But this woman would be the first in a long line of disappointments that I would actually willingly work with.
"I am yours," I had stated.
"And you are mine..."
