Sasha The Red Succubus

"listen girls, I really do have to head out. Maybe we can chat another time."

Sasha's smile didn't falter at his dismissal—it flattened, warmth bleeding out of it.

"Another time?" She stepped forward, closing the distance he'd tried to create. "You walked up to me, Tapuck. You don't get to walk away like we weren't having a conversation."

The emerald woman moved from his other side, unhurried, tracking him with the patience of a hunter who'd read every possible outcome. "He's attempting to decline. How unusual." Her voice held amused warmth. "The settlement is unkind to men who walk alone. You've drawn attention standing here—a dozen hunters watched you approach her. They're waiting past the checkpoint."

Sasha shot the other woman a sharp look. "Vermire. He's not your debt to collect."

"He's not your thrall to claim, either." The emerald woman didn't look at her. "But he will be someone's before nightfall. Better a guide than whatever finds him in Shanty Row."

Neither woman moved aside. Both stood close enough that stepping past either would require physical contact.

"I'll walk you to the boundary," Sasha said, her attention snapping back to Tapuck. "Free of charge. No strings. Then you decide whether you'd prefer my help or whatever's waiting in the streets."

"okay, sounds good" I said nervously, hoping for any chance to get out of this situation. I need more space to disappear, but here I feel trapped.

Sasha's smile returned—a professional curving of lips that didn't reach her amber eyes. "Good choice." She stepped back, clearing his path toward the checkpoint, and motioned toward the settlement beyond. "Walk with me. Just like I said. Free of charge to the boundary."

The emerald woman shifted aside without protest. Her expression betrayed nothing. As he passed, she spoke—low and unhurried.

"I know what Vancer wants you to find. And I know where Erica was last seen—Sasha doesn't." She let that sit. "When you want real information, find me in Shanty Row. Ask for Sevira."

Sasha's hand pressed against his lower back, guiding him forward with proprietary ease. "Don't listen to her. Vermire plays games." She walked him past the checkpoint, past the collared thrall whose stare remained locked on the floor, toward the settlement gate where the force field snapped and sparked. "I'll take you past the entrance danger zones. Nothing more. After that, we negotiate."

I let her guide me out, but felt myself already mentally feeling... relaxed and as ease, in a strange way

The checkpoint barrier flickered as they passed through, force field briefly distorting the light. Ahead, the settlement spread in a chaotic jumble of salvaged structures—corrugated metal, ship hulls, jury-rigged shelters clustered along narrow streets. The smell of industrial lubricant and something sweeter beneath it.

Sasha's hand remained at his back. Her fingers traced slow circles through his shirt, and each pass made it harder to remember why he'd wanted to get away from her.

"Just past the boundary," she said, pitching her voice low enough that only he could hear. "That's all I promised."

The emerald woman—Sevira—followed at a distance, her irises tracking them with predatory patience. She'd said she knew where Erica had disappeared. She'd said Sasha didn't.

His shoulders had dropped. His jaw unclenched. The tightness in his chest that had been there since he stepped off the transport had begun to unwind, and Sasha's proximity felt natural. Right, even.

"You're tense," Sasha observed, her breath warm against his ear. "New arrivals always are. They hold everything so tight." Her thumb pressed into a knot along his spine. "Most don't realize how exhausting it is until someone helps them let go."

She guided him past a cluster of makeshift stalls where women examined goods with territorial focus. None of them looked at him twice. He was already claimed, at least for now.

Sevira's voice came from behind—unhurried and close enough that she'd closed the gap.

"Almost to the boundary, Vermillion. Time to negotiate."

Tapuck gained status: "seductive relaxation influence".

"yeah, I'd like that" I said sheepishly. I felt almost, tried, and so.... agreeable. Everything she said sounded wonderful

Sasha's smile deepened at his easy agreement. Her fingers curled into the fabric at his lower back, possessive and warm. "That's right," she breathed against his ear. "Just let me lead."

She walked him another few steps toward the boundary—past the stalls, past the clustering predators who noted who he was with and looked away. His thoughts had gone soft and indistinct. Her voice seemed to come from somewhere warm and close.

Sevira intercepted them before they reached the settlement gate. Her emerald silk caught the harsh light as she positioned herself directly in their path, arms folded loosely beneath her chest.

"Time's up, Vermillion." Her voice stayed pleasant. "You said boundary. We're at the boundary."

"I said I'd walk him to the boundary." Sasha's palm flattened firmer against his spine. "Whatever comes after is negotiation."

"Negotiation requires a clear head." Sevira's look tracked over Tapuck—his loosened posture, the way he drifted into Sasha's touch without seeming to notice. "Look at him. He'd agree to anything right now."

"Precisely why he's mine to negotiate with."

"He hasn't agreed to anything with you. He agreed to a walk." Sevira stepped closer, and something in the air around her cut through the honeyed warmth surrounding him—sharp and unfamiliar. "He's compromised. You've been working him since the platform."

Sasha's grip closed on his shirt. "He approached me."

"Because you pulled him." Sevira's attention fixed on him again, and this time her voice dropped—not seductive, but direct. "Tapuck. The woman you're looking for was last seen in my territory. Sasha doesn't know where Erica is. She's leading you into Verosa controlled streets because that's where she wants a claim staked."

"You don't know what I know." Sasha turned him gently, positioning herself between him and Sevira, her body an embrace. "Tapuck. We had an agreement."

Her warmth pressed against him. Her eyes held his. The rightness of her presence settled over him again.

Tapuck gained status: "Sasha's seductive influence deepening".

Through the chaos of Metal Mile's tangled corridors, three ragged figures in battered collars ran with practiced urgency—message tubes held tight against their chests as they wove between stalls and predators alike. One nearly collided with a merchant's display before vanishing down a side passage, his bare feet slapping against metal grating. Thrall runners, Tapuck realized distantly—valuable enough that no clan would waste them on draining, but so focused on their deliveries that they moved through the settlement like ghosts, seeing nothing outside their assigned routes.

Sevira's eyes flicked after the nearest runner for just a moment—tracking territorial movement, assessing threats—and in that fractional hesitation, Sasha pressed closer. "The boundary is past that gate," she said, her voice low against his jaw. "Whatever Sevira claims to know, I can actually show you. Right now. Just us."

I gaze lustfully into Sasha's perfect eyes as I mumble to Sevira "We're just gonna negotiate. Please leave us"

Sevira's pale eyes held steady, cataloguing his lax posture, the fixed stare, his dismissal of her presence. The calculation behind her irises persisted.

"Negotiate away, then." She stepped aside, emerald silk shifting with the movement. "But remember—he walked up to her on his own. That tells me something."

She let that sit. Then her attention fixed on Sasha with competitive weight.

"I know where Erica vanished. You're guessing. When he wants actual answers instead of a pretty face, he knows where to find me." She walked past them both toward the settlement boundary.

Sasha moved closer the moment Sevira's shadow fell away, filling the space her rival had left. "Finally," she breathed against his jaw. "That took longer than expected. You're more resistant than most."

Her nails raked lightly down his spine.

"Come with me. I know somewhere we can talk properly." The word 'talk' rolled off her tongue like a promise. "Just a short walk. You'll like where I take you."

Her hand found his, fingers threading through with intimate ease. The settlement's narrow streets waited ahead—shadowed corridors between ramshackle structures where women watched from doorways and thralls rushed past with downcast eyes.

Sasha guided him forward. Toward Verosa territory. Toward whatever she had planned.

He followed without resistance.

"w... wait. We have to.. negotiate" I tried slowing us down. Finding coherent words seemed so difficult around her. My mind felt like it was in a lustful red haze.

His feet dragged against the grating. Sasha's hold firmed.

"Negotiate?" She laughed—low and genuine, as if he'd said something clever. "Sweet Tapuck. You already agreed to everything the moment you stepped through that barrier with me." Her thumb traced small circles against his palm, each touch scattering his thoughts further. "The negotiation happened on the platform. You just don't remember making your offers yet."

She pulled him closer, her body warm against his side as the settlement swallowed them. Ramshackle walls rose on either side, casting long stretches of gloom. Figures observed from doorways—not approaching, not interfering. Claimed prey held no interest.

A gaunt man in a battered collar staggered past, sunken eyes flicking toward Tapuck for just an instant. His mouth opened. Closed. Then he breathed something fractured as he rushed by: "She... don't let her... Erica in the..." The rest dissolved into garbled nothing as he moved onward, whatever warning he'd carried lost to a shattered mind.

Sasha didn't even glance at him.

"Thralls talk to themselves," she breathed against Tapuck's ear. "Drained too many times. Nothing left worth hearing." Her nails dragged lightly down his arm, sending pleasant tremors through muscles that had forgotten how to tense. "Now. Where were we?"

She guided him down a narrow passage between salvaged hull walls. Ahead, something waited—her destination, her territory, her plan.

The red haze thickened. His thoughts came slow and distant, like trying to grasp smoke.

"Just a little further," Sasha said. "Then we can... talk."

Tapuck gained status: "Sasha's seductive mental influence deepened".

"okay" I say to Sasha "But only a little further" I reach my hand out to each her back. It's so soft, so perfect. I... need her

His palm pressed flat against the curve of her spine, and something inside him went loose and pliable at the contact. Sasha turned into him, rising on her toes to bring her mouth closer to his.

"There you are," she breathed against his throat. Her hands found his hips, pulling him flush against her. Behind her, the narrow passage opened into a shadowed alcove between two salvage structures—crushed hull plating forming a pocket just deep enough for privacy, just visible enough that any passing hunter would read the claim.

"You're further along than I expected." She walked him backward without breaking contact. His shoulders found the corrugated wall. "Most men fight longer."

Her thigh pressed between his.

"But you didn't really want to fight, did you?"

Across the passage, Dennic had stopped his shuffling circuit entirely. Hollow eyes fixed on the scene with something that might have been recognition—or warning—struggling to surface through the static in his skull. His cracked lips moved, forming the same fragmented sound from before, but whatever he meant to say died in his throat.

I realize something might be wrong. Am I in danger? "I need to find... someone" I try shaking out of this haze. My Cock is SO hard.

The name surfaced through the fog—Erica—and for one desperate instant clarity sparked behind his eyes. Sasha saw it happen. Her hand caught his jaw, tilting his face down toward hers.

"Find who?" She pressed closer, thigh grinding against the straining bulge in his pants. "You already found me."

Her palm dragged slow down his chest. Down his stomach. Her nails hooked into his waistband.

"Erica," he managed—the name like grasping at smoke—but Sasha's fingers were already working, already pulling, and the heat of her touch scattered everything else.

"There you go," she breathed, satisfaction curling through every syllable. "Just stop fighting."

She dropped to her knees in the shadowed alcove. Her eyes stayed locked on his as she worked his pants down. Corrugated walls pressed cold against his back. Somewhere nearby, Dennic's cracked voice cut through—

"Erica—crash site—she'll take everything—"

A sharp whistle split the passage. The thrall's mouth snapped shut. His hollow eyes dropped to the grating and he moved along, the warning dying unheard.

Sasha didn't look away from him.

"Broken ones ramble to themselves," she whispered, lips close against exposed skin. "Nothing they say means anything."

Her lips brushed him—once, twice—and the last of his resistance dissolved into need.

It feels so good. I completely give in to her

His hands found her hair. His hips moved forward. The last fragmented thought—the name Erica, the warning about something hidden—scattered into the wet heat of her mouth and the pull of her throat.

Sasha worked him with the unhurried skill of someone who had done this a hundred times, her lips and tongue coaxing every resistance out of him. She would take her time, enjoying his surrender, and he let her do so. When his release finally came, his whole body shook, and he spilled into her waiting mouth with a groan that rang off the corrugated walls.

She swallowed everything.

The relief drained from him—literally—flowing out with each steady wave. His vision blurred. His legs shook. Something deeper than physical exhaustion emptied from him with every pulse, as though she were drinking something vital through the act.

Sasha pulled back slowly, her tongue tracing one final line before tucking him away with proprietary care. She rose to her feet, and for a moment her honey-colored eyes showed something like genuine satisfaction—warmth that felt earned rather than performed.

"Good boy," she said softly against his jaw. Her fingers curled into his shirt, bracing him as his knees threatened to buckle. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The red haze had thinned, but his head felt stuffed with cotton. His limbs were heavy. The crystal pendant at his throat had gone completely dark—not a spark remaining. Whatever energy it had measured was gone, spent on his surrender.

She pressed him back against the wall. She waited, watching him with the patience of someone who had all the time in the world.

"Now," she said softly. "Let's discuss what you really came here for. And what you're going to do for me in exchange for my help." Her lips brushed his ear. "Unless you'd like to give me more first. I'm happy to take it."

Tapuck gained status: "drained of mental energy".

"m.... more" I cant believe the words that came out of my mouth. I'm so drained, and yet, I want to give her everything. All of my energy, all of my information, all of my servitude. I'm hers. "please, more"

Sasha's honey-colored eyes held something beyond satisfaction—genuine surprise, quickly hidden behind a slow, appreciative smile.

"More?" Her thumb traced along his jaw. "Most men can barely stand after what I just took." Her hips shift against him, finding him still responsive despite the emptiness the first drain had left. "But you're not like most men, are you?"

She guided him down onto the rust-stained mat in the corner of the alcove—the same one countless others had used for exactly this purpose. The metal surfaces closed in around them. Somewhere beyond the narrow passage, footsteps and distant voices carried on without interruption.

"Since you're offering so sweetly..."

Her silks pooled on the grating as she straddled him. No pretense, no seduction required—just the efficient claiming of prey that had already surrendered. She sank down onto him with a pleased exhale, her nails raking lightly down his chest.

"Just like that. Give me everything."

Her pace stayed unhurried. No rush. The afternoon was young, and a willing victim was a rare luxury, one worth taking slowly.

"Tell me what Vancer sent you to find." Her voice stayed soft, intimate—casual conversation despite what her body was doing. Her attention sharpened. "Erica. That's the name on your lips when you're trying to fight me." A slow roll of her hips accompanied the observation. "What do you know about her? Who sent you? What did they promise?"

She drew close, her lips brushing his ear as she worked him deeper.

"Tell me everything, Tapuck. I want to know what makes you so valuable that a priority-coded exile came looking for me before he even stepped off the platform."

Tapuck gained status: "Essence drain aftereffects".

I can't resist her commands, I tell her everything. My mind so blinded by pleasure.

Sasha's rhythm never wavered as the words spilled from him.

Erica's name. Vancer's office. The priority code. The wrecked cargo vessel as a starting point. Each fragment made her amber eyes sharpen—though her body maintained its measured pace, cataloguing every detail.

"Vancer wants her that badly?" She exhaled the words against his throat. "A full sentence reduction for a retrieval?" Her nails pressed crescents into his shoulders. "That's significant. That's useful."

She drew back just enough to study his face, hips still rolling in that torturous slow rhythm. "Tell me about the warrant. What did she say about the charges?"

He told her. The theft and murder that didn't fit Erica's profile. The questions Vancer had implied. The possibility that someone in power wanted Erica back quietly—political pressure, maybe, or stolen information.

Sasha's lips curved. "And Sevira." Her voice carried a predatory edge. "What exactly did she claim to know?"

Everything came out. The emerald woman's appearance on the platform. Her interruption. Her insistence that she knew where Erica had been seen—and that Sasha didn't. The offer to track her down in Shanty Row.

"Mm." Sasha's pace shifted—deeper now, purposeful. "Vermire playing games, as usual. But that's useful too." Her hand settled firmly on his chest. "One more thing. What's on that data chip Vancer gave you?"

He couldn't stop himself. The biometric lock. Vancer's limited intelligence. Erica's last confirmed location. Everything the lieutenant had shared now belonged to Sasha instead.

She drew close. Her mouth found his ear as her rhythm accelerated—reward rather than extraction now.

"Good boy." Her breath came faster. "You've given me exactly what I needed."

The alcove filled with the sound of her pleasure and his surrender. Outside the tight corridor, footsteps came and went. A thrall's distant whistle sent someone running. The settlement moved on, indifferent to what was being taken in the dim alcove.

When she finally finished with him—when she'd taken everything he had left to give—Sasha collapsed against his chest, breathing hard. Her fingers traced idle patterns across his skin.

"The wrecked cargo vessel," she spoke against his throat. "That's Verosa territory. My territory." A satisfied laugh rang through her. "Sevira was right about one thing—I didn't know where Erica was. But now I know exactly where to start looking."

She propped herself up, amber eyes bright with triumph.

"And you're going to help me find her first."

Tapuck gained status: "aftereffects of Sasha's essence drain".

I nod sheepishly, before passing out.

Sasha watched his eyes roll back, his body going slack beneath her. She lingered a moment longer—cataloguing the information he'd poured out so eagerly, weighing its value against what she'd already known. Erica. Priority retrieval. Vancer's personal vendetta, or something politically Messier.

She dismounted him with practiced grace and retrieved her silks from the grating, smoothing them back into place. The data chip came next—slipped from his pocket with fingers that knew exactly where to look. She tucked it into the pouch at her hip alongside her own necessities.

The unconscious man at her feet presented a problem. Other hunters had seen her lead him into this alcove. Clan law recognized temporary claims, but an unconscious priority-code couldn't be marched to proper territory markers—and leaving him here invited scavengers.

She crouched beside him, turning his face toward the light.

"Useful," she murmured. "Very useful."

A whistle cut through the passage—two sharp notes, the signal for a runner. Sasha straightened and adjusted her rings. She had time before the afternoon turned. She could establish a proper claim, move him somewhere defensible, and decide what to do with him when he woke.

Or she could leave him for Shanty Row and let the scraps fall where they may.

She made her decision quickly. Then she stepped out of the alcove to find someone to help her move a body.

Sasha Vermillion picked up Data Chip.

Tapuck was incapacitated.