The Longest Road, Part 2


You watch the girl as she blithely darts through the crowd, moving without a care. Her brown hair hangs down either side of her head to her shoulders in simple pigtails, which bob and twist as she maneuvers her way through the press of people. She wears a long, plain dress that was designed to be functional rather than seductive, but even its unflattering lines cannot fully conceal the swell of the girl's breasts—which are impressive for her age.

Licking your lips, you decide that she will make an excellent meal.

Your ravenous hunger cries out to be filled immediately, but you force yourself to be patient. Instead, you start to weave through the crowd yourself. Cutting through the press of people with supernatural grace and speed, you approach her in her blind spot. Then—taking advantage of her inattentiveness—you slip into her path while she isn't looking, positioning yourself so that she crashes into you at full tilt.

The girl stumbles from the impact, nearly losing her balance. But you catch her, holding her tight against you so she doesn't fall. She sucks in a quick gasp. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she blurts out. "Thank you for—"

She breaks off, eyes widening, as she notices your demonic features. The girl tenses instinctively in your arms... but she doesn't exactly pull away either. While tieflings might be feared and hated in general, there's a chance that you might be able to turn it to your advantage in this case. Your prey this time is an adolescent girl, after all... and "good-looking, dangerous older man her father probably wouldn't approve of" is something you can work with.

The key will be balancing just that hint of danger with enough charm that she doesn't feel genuinely frightened. You hold her tight for just a moment longer, then carefully set her back to her own two feet. "Be careful, young lady," you say, still keeping a hand on her shoulder. "This crowd is rough, and I would truly hate to see you injured because of a misstep."

She bows her head, looking at the ground and fidgeting. "I... I just wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I'm sorry that I hit you, sir."

You chuckle. "I'm fine. And having a beautiful girl run into me isn't an experience that I'd ever demand an apology for."

Now that earns a blush. Before she can gather her thoughts, you press on. "Though... if you still wanted to make it up to me anyway, there is one small thing I needed help with. I'm new in this city, and still learning my way around. Could you give me directions to a place where I could buy high-quality parchment?"

The girl hesitates. "I... do know a place like that," she says. "But... rather than give you directions, it... might be easier if I just... showed you the way myself?" She looks up at you hopefully. You can tell that she finds you interesting, but that this isn't anything truly serious either. Just a simple girl, hoping to prolong a harmless little adventure with the exciting, devilishly-handsome man who flattered her.

She has no suspicion at all of what is about to happen to her.

"Are you sure?" you ask, feigning uncertainty. "I wouldn't want to take you out of your way." But at her emphatic assurance that it wouldn't be a problem, you relent. And so the two of you head off through the city, walking side by side.

She turns out to be quite the chatterbox, especially once you start to draw her out with a few well-selected questions. Her name is Greta, you learn. You also learn a detailed description of her father's caravan, some of the idiosyncrasies of its members, as well as a few rambling stories of life on the road. It's clear that she enjoys the life she leads, and is trying eagerly to share some sense of that enjoyment with you.

Whenever you can get a few words in edgewise, you continue your campaign of subtle flirting, while looking for "innocent" opportunities to brush skin against skin. Even the simple touch of an incubus is enough to stoke the flames of arousal, albeit slightly, causing her to become even more invested in her attempts to impress you.

You're able to get her so wrapped up in your conversation, in fact... that she doesn't even notice as you slowly guide her away from the main thoroughfares, further and further into a more secluded alleyway. "...and then Uldreyin finally admitted that he'd lost the manifest," she says. "Which, of course, is when I told... him... that..."

Greta's voice trails off as—far too late—she finally starts paying attention to her surroundings. The girl takes a few more steps forward, only to realize that this alley is a dead end, and that you've long since gone around enough corners that you're out of sight of anyone who could help her. She knows there's no way you ended up here by accident. Then your arms wrap around her from behind, removing all doubt.

She whimpers, struggling as you pull her back against you, but it's half-hearted. It's clear what's going to happen. It's clear that there's nothing she can do to stop it. What's not entirely clear is just how adverse she even is. You can still sense a bit of nascent arousal on her, though it's now tempered by her fear.

An involuntarily moan escapes her as you start to pet her in earnest, your hands roaming across her body, groping her breasts, between her legs and everywhere else. Her breath is coming in gasps now, and she looks back over her shoulder at you, tears in her eyes, a pleading expression on her face. "Please," she begs. "Please, I'll... I'll do anything you want. Just... don't kill me. Please. I don't want to die."

Oh. She still thinks you're an ordinary assailant, with all the danger to life and limb that implies. Best to disabuse her of that notion right away.