Welcome to "Mileena", a new and much darker iteration of my older "Succubus" story. The plot will be different and my writing style has evolved in the 4ish years since I last was active on this site.
There will be explicit and adult content in this story, as it goes on. It may include graphic sex, profanity, physical/sexual/emotional/psychological violence, and other dark/disturbing things. Mileena is a thoroughly selfish, sexual, and psychopathic character and I'm not going to kid-glove her or any other character. While much of the narrative will be relatively inoffensive, this is not for you if you find reading such things to be upsetting.
Updates will be posted as I am able to get around to writing/typing/editing/posting them. There is likely to be a relative rush of entries as I work my way through what I've already written by hand, then the posting will slow as I compose the continuing story. I am not usually a consistant poster on any media, as I constantly have all kinds of real-life adult things to do. Please be patient with me and I hope you enjoy this story!
Mileena
Part 1: "The Flesh Pits" (Shang Tsung)
Awareness was new to her, even as it was forged and sharpened in her mind. In the wild and savage dream-existence, which was all that she had ever known, there were images and knowledge. However, there were no connections between them with which she could construct thoughts. It was a void, more of a wilderness than a form of sentience. There was nothing cohesive enough to make sense. What were familiar to her were sensations without context, on parts of her that she could not name nor place. The raw sensations of pleasure and pain were her first taste of the world around her and the two opposites crossed and became intertwined in the chaos. Pleasure and pain were familiar to her. Therefore, it was a comfort that the sudden clarity, burning its way through her, was accompanied by pain.
The rush of the new clarity overwhelmed any feeling of confusion that she might have felt; it was so exhilarating, so fulfilling, that it left only the vaguest memory of her old pseudo-existence in its wake. If she experienced any bewilderment or inertia during her metamorphosis into a developed personality in a known world, she never registered it.
To her, there was nothing to be confused about: whatever she wasn't before, she was now Mileena, full of awareness and desires and untested skills.
Her body was that of a voluptuous woman and pain sang through it, stiffness and shrill burning in her muscles and bones. The air on her skin was thick and cool, smelling of gore and acid. The stone on which she lay supine was smooth and colder than the air. Mileena luxuriated in the sensations, and opened her eyes.
The first thing that Mileena saw was a beautiful woman in blue, with eyes full of horror and disgust, framed by a dark chamber full of experiments and abomination. A mere instant later, context focused and filled her with understanding, spite and delight.
The frightened woman spoke of Mileena, her soft lips moving under her mask, "She looks like me!" It was her first irony that Mileena felt, upon hearing it; those offending lips, hidden by that silken mask, represented a stark difference between them. Mileena felt the desire to tear away both the mask and the offending flesh.
Moreover, Mileena knew who this woman was, what this Kitana represented. The recently awoken woman greeted the other, "Sister!" She heard her own voice echoing around the shadowy laboratory and was pleased by the sultry lilt. Ignoring the pain that flooded her with the motion, Mileena pushed herself up from the slab on which she lay and rose to feet that seemed already familiar with the cold stone ground. The flawed original backed away from her perfected hybrid as Mileena mocked her, "So pretty, so fair. So sad and alone."
Mileena realized that she hated this soft and frightened thing; she gestured invitingly, "Come. Let us be a family!"
Let's see if I can fix that ugly soft mouth of yours.
Anger flared in Kitana's dark eyes and she became proud, aggressive, "You are not my family!" Beautiful razor-edged fans appeared in her hands as she advanced on Mileena, exclaiming furiously, "You are a monstrosity!"
Mileena's body moved of its own accord, reflexively evading and reciprocating. She had no awareness of technique or strategy, just savage glee. Adrenaline and the way her body knew how to move, the dance. Yet, it was clear to her after just the first flurry and exchange of blows, that whatever combat aptitude she had awoken with, Mileena's instinctive ferocity and reflexive movements could not match the refined skill of her opponent.
Sensations of pain and more pain as they fought; gashes from the fans and bruises from the blows wore Mileena down. She could feel her body healing and knew that the process was drastically accelerated beyond what ordinary beings were capable of, but she could see that Kitana had the same power.
Kombat, something in her mind whispered.
An incredible pain as Kitana grabbed Mileena's arm and wrung it brutally, mangling her elbow, then a feeling like fire as the joint almost instantly set itself and healed. Yet, the next gash dealt by the fans healed slower, incompletely; Mileena realized that she was losing a battle of attrition. Her own augmented healing factor was being exhausted much faster than she could tax that of her opponent.
It was as she had this insight and felt the first risings of fear and doubt that Kitana's booted foot slammed into her forehead with the force of a stone mallet. Mileena heard a strange cracking sound and experienced the curious sensation of the stone floor rising up to meet her in an oddly soft embrace as she slipped into darkness.
A crackling fire, achingly familiar, coursed through Mileena's body as she regained consciousness. She knew immediately whose burning hands rested on her bare hip and breast, even before she was fully awake. Her voice came out as a moan as she opened her eyes, "Shang Tsung..."
He was there, leaning over the stone altar on which Mileena's body had been replaced. A jolt that was not caused by the hot green energy flowing from the sorcerer's hands ran through her as Mileena became aware that she had seen this man many, many times before. Numerous blurred memories experienced from unfocused eyes and nerves began to snap into focus. He was the master of the Flesh Pits, the sorcerer, her creator, Shang Tsung.
It was not gratitude nor love that she felt for him.
"Hush, my Mileena," he said, inclining his head to meet her eyes, "I am healing you. You are to meet your father, the emperor, shortly."
Mileena relaxed and waited for her healing to be completed. "Shao Kahn. Yes." she closed her eyes.
It was not gratitude nor love that she felt for him. Already she was impatient to take his place as Empress of Outworld.
The green magic ceased flowing from her architect's hands; Mileena stretched and flexed her body with a delighted moan, free of pain for the first time in her short existence. The hairs on her neck tingled and she looked to see Shang Tsung with his hands still resting on her bare flesh, staring at her.
She could not read his expression, but felt his hands tense slightly. The hand on her breast's thumb was against her nipple, which was hard in the cold air of the Flesh Pits. Unconsciously, she took a sharp intake of breath and her hips twitched; she became aware of both the sensitive area between her legs and her detailed, but incomplete, knowledge of sex. Lust flared in her, along with a vague sense of deja vu that she didn't immediately take the time to consider.
"Interesting." the sorcerer commented under his breath. With a slight, pleased smile, he asked her, "Do you desire me, Mileena?"
Mileena hissed. Her body ached with desire and somehow she knew that it was exceptionally intense. It was not for her creator specifically, but for the feeling of skin and bodies against and inside her. Her body reflexively shuddered and a moan snaked its way through her fangs as Shang Tsung shifted his hands. He rolled her nipple between his fingers and traced his hand down from her hip, along the soft valley between her thigh and pelvis. It was only as the caress of his hand on her vulva made her spasm, grasping the edge of the stone table and pressing her breast into his other hand, that she realized.
"It was you." she hissed, breathing heavily. It was an accusation and a confession, "You made me want this!"
Her creator's smile widened, showing some of his white teeth, "Even if it is so, are you not pleased?"
The lust was torment. Mileena bore her teeth and answered with mock-affection, "Not yet, my dear sorcerer."
Like the kombat, sex had the feeling of savage release, an instinctive dance for Mileena. She sat up, rotated herself so she was sitting on the edge, and pressed her body against him, in a single fluid motion. As he unclasped his belt, as he thrust into her and she cried out, as she thrashed in pleasure, Mileena realized that she hated him. She thrust her hips to meet his harder, cried out in ecstasy as release and pleasure tore through her, took delight in his grunts and spasms as he came, and hated him.
It was over fairly quickly, leaving Mileena dissatisfied. Bracing himself over her for a few moments with his muscular arms, Shang Tsung then smiled, not kindly, "Enjoy yourself, my creation. As perfect as I have made you, you will never bear an heir to Outworld." He chuckled to himself.
Disgusted with him and only partially fulfilled, Mileena spat and pushed him away, deciding pridefully never again to give him the pleasure of controlling her. Still laughing softly, Shang Tsung gestured and Tarkatan slave-soldier approached, carrying something. Ignoring the sorcerer as he composed himself and straightened his clothing, Mileena instead turned her attention to the slave, who was down on one knee before her.
Although she knew that it would be so, she was intensely pleased to see that the male's sharp-fanged maw and reptilian yellow eyes were familiar; she knew that they resembled her own. She felt a pleasantly instinctive kinship with him, as he shared a portion of her hybrid Tarkata-Edenian race. The intrinsic attraction also pleased her for more practical reasons; with the hoards of Tarkata serving her father, and by extension her, she certainly would never again have to turn to Shang Tsung for satisfaction. Distinctly Tarkatan features that she did not have in common with him and thus fascinated her were the arm-blades that she knew the slave must have. Looking down at his arms, she noticed what he held. He was carrying a set of rich, vibrantly fuchsia clothes and a pair of beautiful three-pronged sais, all of which she instantly knew were hers.
"Leave us, sorcerer." she gestured dismissively towards the stairwell out of the Flesh Pits.
She enjoyed the restrained displeasure in his voice, "As you wish, princess. I will wait for you above. However, it would not be wise to keep the Emperor waiting." Mileena watched him leave, pleased by his duty to obey her. She hated him for his objectification of her, but more so because he had designed her, had any influence over her helpless body at all. He was a threat to be eliminated, all in good time.
Her attention eagerly shifted back to the demonic slave bearing her first clothing and weapons. A Tarkatan smile stretched the corners of Mileena's wide needle-toothed mouth. She beckoned invitingly, "Come closer to me."
The Tarkatan glanced up at her, then rose and approached, offering the bundle. She took it and placed it on the stone surface beside her, then smiled again, "Come closer, my pet."
Uncertain, he took a step forward to within her arms' reach then paused.
"Closer." Mileena purred, smiling warmly at the knowledge that this being was effectively her possession, her toy. She was happy to play with him.
The wary soldier approached until he was nearly against the side of the altar upon which Mileena reclined. She sidled up and examined him, reaching out and taking one of his arms in her hands. He was rough and yellowed, corded with muscle. She caressed his dark horns and lingered over the hardened slit where his arm blades were sheathed.
Mileena moved her hands back and purred, "Show me."
After a pause, he flexed his arm and the long metallic blade extended from his forearm. The swords of the Tarkata were things intrinsically imbued with some small portion of the magic native to Outworld; it was far too long to be naturally sheathed in his arm. Running her fingers dexterously along the blade, Mileena felt the startling heat of the metal. The Tarkatan held his arm out for her inspection and watched her with an expression that would be indistinguishable from the regular hideous snarl to the eyes of a pure-blooded Edenian. To Mileena, created to be part Tarkatan herself, he looked at her with clear awe, fear, and intense animal interest.
She giggled girlishly.
Playfully, in a languid cat-like motion, Mileena slipped her hands under the slave-soldier's tough leather vest, then pressed her round breasts and sculpted stomach against the muscular chest of the Tarkatan male. She found the sensation of his rough and demonically hot skin against her smooth and flawless one to be intoxicating and his reaction to be even more so. His chest became tense as he inhaled harshly and the blade of his other arm shot out part-way like a cat's claws. Mileena already knew and embraced the knowledge that experiences of the flesh were her greatest joy, second only to the heady rush of dominance and power over others. The Tarkata offered her both. He exhaled in a low, bestial growl.
The inhuman snarl, a mere animal vocalization to Mileena's Edenian side, was a clear statement to the demon-kin blood in her. He feared her. He was struggling between his fear of and his desire for her. He submitted to her. Her response, part growl and part purr, was equally expressive to him. Even Shang Tsung, hidden just out of sight, could hear the notes of delight.
A sudden and unwelcome feeling of duty spoiled Mileena's enjoyment, even as she nuzzled her fangs against his. Shao Kahn is not to be kept waiting. Annoyed, Mileena hissed and pushed the male away. Reluctantly, growling in frustration, he took a step back, his blades whispering back into his arms slowly.
To distract herself from her urgent lust, Mileena admired her new clothes.
They were exquisite, worthy of the true princess of Outworld. The vibrantly purple fabric was thick, glossy, soft as silk, and strong as chainmail. She admired the embellishments of fine leather and cloth-of-gold. Thigh-high boots, long gloves, a body harness. And a mask for the lower half of her face, like what Kitana had worn. Mileena was loath to cover the proud contrast that defined her; she put on the mask last. Looking at her reflection in one of the tanks that contained her flawed prototypal iterations, Mileena ran her fingers through her thick, short hair and admired herself. Although she was not aware of it, pride would become one of her most damning flaws.
Perfect.
Mileena, trailed by the Tarkatan guard, went to meet her Emperor father for the first time.
I work really hard on these. Please let me know what you think with a review and/or a PM! Thank you!