Chapter 15: Bimbo
The morning light crept through the Crimson Lotus's heavy curtains in thin, amber ribbons, catching the dust motes that drifted lazily through the air. Kendra stirred first, her pink-streaked blonde hair fanned across the black silk pillowcase like a halo of sin. She felt the familiar warmth beside her—Candy's body pressed against her own, one arm draped possessively across Kendra's waist.
But something was different. Something hummed in the air between them like a plucked string.
Kendra's eyes snapped open, and she felt it immediately—a surge of power radiating from her sister's sleeping form. The Lust Mana in the room had intensified overnight, swirling around Candy like a visible heat haze. It took her a moment to process what she was feeling, to measure the sheer weight of the energy pulsing from the woman beside her.
Level fifty. Candy had reached level fifty.
"Fuck me," Kendra breathed, sitting up and staring down at the sleeping succubus. "You leveled up in your sleep."
Candy's eyes fluttered open, violet-dark and lazy. She stretched like a cat, her massive tits rising and falling with the motion, her long black-and-purple hair pooling around her like ink. And she felt it too—that same electric thrumming in her veins, the sweet intoxication of power that made her skin prickle with awareness.
"Damn," she purred, her voice still rough with sleep. She sat up, looking at her hands, watching the faint pink shimmer that danced across her fingertips. "Daddy's going to be so proud."
It wasn't just her power that had grown, though. Something else had shifted. Candy felt it in the way her thoughts seemed to flow through honey, slow and luxurious and utterly uninterested in anything that didn't sparkle or please her cunt. Magic theory? Boring. Arcane history? Who the fuck cares? Her nails were more interesting. Her tits were more interesting. The ache of her empty holes was more interesting.
When her feet hit the floor, she walked to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, her reflection greeting her with that tanned, curvaceous body she loved to worship. She held up her hands, wiggling her fingers, admiring the long pink acrylics. They'd grown another inch, it seemed, now ending in sharp, impractical points. Whore nails. Perfect for scratching a man's back while he pounded into her, not worth a single damn for turning pages or holding a quill.
"Paperwork is for ugly girls anyway," Candy muttered to her reflection, watching the way her massive lips moved. She pressed one nail gently against the glass, leaving a tiny scuff mark that vanished a second later, healed by residual magic.
Kendra appeared behind her in the mirror, wrapping her arms around Candy's waist. Their eyes met in the reflective surface—two identical faces, two bodies sculpted by forbidden desires, two halves of the same lascivious whole.
"It's been happening for days now," Candy said, tilting her head to admire her profile. "I try to read, and the letters just blur together. I look at the book, and all I can think about is cock. I mean, one of them looks like a cock if you squint hard enough." She giggled at her own joke, then frowned. "Actually, no. Mine looks like a stack of papers with a scratchy texture."
"Girl." Kendra laughed, low and filthy, her lips brushing Candy's bare shoulder. "That's just your textbook."
"Is it?" Candy asked brightly, shrugging. "It's so hard to remember."
The sound of a summoning chime cut through their morning reverie. Glittering green script etched itself into the air before Candy's face—Adrian's signature. Then the words formed, crisp and commanding as his voice.
My office. An hour. Kendra, stay focused on your own studies. There is a new transfer student I need you to corrupt while I handle your sister.
Candy felt a thrill race through her spine, electricity licking at her skin. "Daddy wants to see me," she said, the sentence dripping from her lips like sex. "Alone."
"Then you'd better get dressed before you make him wait." Kendra smacked Candy's bare ass hard enough to make it jiggle. "Wear something that shows off those new tattoos he mentioned."
The tattoos. Right.
It had been Adrian's suggestion, of course. At dinner last night, in the private booth at the back of the Crimson Lotus, while Candy had been sandwiched between Kendra and Madame Lysandra, her head thrown back in unbridled pleasure. He had looked at her over the rim of his crystal whiskey glass, his voice casual and idle, like he was discussing the weather.
"You're reaching level fifty soon, pet," he had said. "A succubus of that caliber should look the part. I want tattoos etched along your spine, down your hips, into your skin. Purple, to match your hair. Marks that tell everyone exactly what you are."
Candy had groaned as Lysandra's fingers worked magic between her thighs, barely able to form words. "Tattoos?"
"I have a contact in the Demon Quarter," Lysandra murmured, leaning around to nip at Candy's ear. "My own not-quite-daughter. She inks succubi and incubi with runes that enhance Lust Mana absorption. They'll sing to anyone who sees them, lure them into dropping their guard. Another tool for your arsenal."
"Only if you want them," Adrian added, but his voice carried the weight of an expectation. A request that was not quite a request.
And Candy, drunk on pleasure and power and the sheer debauchery of the evening, had thrown her arms around his neck and moaned her agreement.
"Fuck yes, Daddy," she has said, grinding her wet cunt against his thigh. "I want them. I want everyone to see what I am."
She had been excited about the idea, sure, but the sensation pressed through her now with a new urgency. Standing in the Crimson Lotus, her body aching with power she was still learning to wield, she wanted them—needed them—carved into her skin. Markers of her greatness, her godhood, her total submission to her own orgasm.
She pulled a small pink mesh dress over her body, the fabric doing absolutely nothing to hide her distended tits or the massive curve of her bare ass. She slipped on her thigh-high boots with the four-inch heels and cocked a wide pink collar around her neck that Adrian had given her, purple gemstones catching the dim light. Long, impractical nails sprawled from her fingertips like elegant claws, each one punctuated with tiny skulls painted at the base.
From the room's vanity, she caught Kendra in the mirror, still naked in the tangled sheets. Her lover was watching her dress with unapologetic hunger, those pink-nailed hands slowly drifting down toward her dripping slit.
"Don't start without me," Candy said, only half-joking. "We're showing off my new ink when Daddy's done with me. I expect you to be properly wet for that."
"Oh, I'll be soaked by the time you walk back through that door," Kendra promised. "Now stop primping and go slay."
The walk to Adrian's office was a gauntlet in itself.
Students parted for her like she was lava, some licking their lips, others averting their eyes in desperate attempts to retain self-control. Candy drank in every scrap of their stolen glances, feeling their collective arousal titillating against her skin like tiny electric kisses. Power high, her nails glinting in the enchanted sconces, her hips swaying to a rhythm only she could hear.
A first-year, barely a man, stumbled into her path with an armful of books. He gawked at her openly, mouth open, his cheeks flushing to scarlet.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he stammered, unable to stop staring. "I didn't—I wasn't—"
Candy reached out, placing a single taloned fingertip beneath his chin, tilting his face up to meet hers. Purple eyes flashed with amusement.
"Take a good look, little boy. But you'd need to level up about forty more to afford me."
She sauntered past his frozen form, leaving him trembling and utterly undone.
By the time she reached the Dean's private ante-chamber, Candy was practically buzzing with carnality. The obsidian double-doors gleamed darkly in the sconce light, their surface carved with figures that writhed and twisted in silent ecstasy. She didn't knock. When had she ever? Adrian had made it abundantly clear that his cock was the only appointment she needed to keep.
She stepped in.
The office was all shadowed mahogany and glinting crystal, burnt sugar and old secrets heavy in the air. The candles flickered, as if welcoming her. Adrian Aldridge stood at the window with his back to her, silhouetted in the weak sunlight that struggled to pierce the enchanted glass. In his hand, a crystal decanter of single-malt whiskey glowed amber, catching the light into kaleidoscopic patterns.
"Close the door, pet," he murmured.
Candy kicked it shut with the heel of her boot. It clicked together and sealed. She didn't wait for permission to approach him, walking around the desk with a bounce in her bare-assed step, before pressing herself flush against his back. Her arms wound around him, her massive tits flattening against his doublet.
"I made fifty, Daddy," she breathed.
He turned, that sharp, calculating gaze sweeping over her with a hunger he barely tempered. Then he gripped her chin, tilting to make her look up at him.
"Level fifty." His voice was a low growl of approval, full of dark delight. "The fastest any student in my history has ever reached that milestone. And you did it with your legs spread and your lips wrapped around half the faculty." He paused, letting a titillating note twist into his words. "You've become something magnificent, pet."
Candy preened, pressing her body harder against his. "You told me to practice my feminine wiles. Between Kendra and me, the campus is practically leaking with lust."
"You're not wrong." Adrian allowed a lean smile, then he was cupping her jaw, his thumb stroking across her lower lip. "But level fifty is not where you stop. You need to reach the point where Succubus Magic flows through you as easily as blood. Where your cunt tightens, and the world reacts to your delight." He studied her. "Tell me about your studies."
Candy blinked. Studies. Wait, she had those. Somewhere.
"Oh," she said, the word drawing itself out as she tried to recall. "I mean, yes. I've got a theory exam in three days, but—" she waved a hand decorated in purple-tipped acrylics. "The reading is just so hard to focus on, you know? The letters all blur together. I spent an hour last night trying to read chapter one of something, and instead I got distracted by my own reflection in the window." She ran a self-adoring hand down her corseted body. "Do you think the professor will mind if I just suck his cock and ask for a pass?"
Adrian laughed, a dark, warm sound that vibrated against her skin. It was the most genuine laugh she'd coaxed from him in weeks.
"That's the most honest thing you've said all year." He stroked her hair, fond and proprietary. "No, you won't pass. You'll fail that exam spectacularly, in fact. But it's not the pages you need to master anymore, pet." He tilted her chin toward him. "Put your focus where your nails are. On spread thighs and gaping holes. On the taste of cum on your lips."
Candy let out a long, low moan. His words were like honey being glazed over her brain. "Is that all I need, Daddy? Just be pretty and whorish?"
"You need to be the most devastating whore this university has ever produced," Adrian corrected, his voice stroking through her with undiluted intensity. "That's your true talent, little succubus. Your books can wait." He released her jaw, pouring himself a finger of amber whiskey and downing it. "I have a gift for you. To mark your achievement."
He gestured toward a velvet-wrapped bundle on the corner of the desk. Candy pounced on it with squealing delight, ripping the dark fabric aside to reveal a black leather collar inlaid with amethyst crystals. An elegant silver tag hung from its front, engraved with three intertwined initials: C.A.L. For Candy Aldridge, the name he'd said he might bestow on her in his private affection. The mark of one of his whores.
She wept, full-bodied and gasping, tears of joy streaking her carefully applied makeup. "Daddy," she choked, clutching the collar to her chest. "Oh, Daddy, it's so perfect, it's—"
"Let me put it on you," he said softly. He took the collar from her shaking hands and circled behind her. She stretched her neck, baring it to him without a trace of shame. The leather was cool and supple against her skin. He fastened the clasp with an audible click, the crystal at her throat winking in the candlelight.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Candy grabbed him by the front of his robes, yanking him toward her. Her mouth found his with ferocious intensity, all tongue and teeth and desperate speed. She tasted of mint and something darker. When she finally pulled away, breathless, her eyes were wild with adoration.
"Thank you, Daddy," she said, dragging the words out of the back of her throat like they were being drawn from her very soul. "I'll wear it every moment. Even while I sleep."
"Good girl."
"We should celebrate." She pressed her body to his, grinding her tits against his chest, the crystals on the collar scraping lightly against his doublet. "I want to feel you everywhere, Daddy. I need to feel your cock in my mouth, my cunt, my ass—every hole at once."
Adrian smirked, gripping her hips. "Then get on the desk, pet."
Candy scrambled up onto the mahogany surface, knocking over a stack of papers without a care. The books scattered across the floor like autumn leaves. Her legs fell open, boots hooked around his hips, her dress slipping off one tanned shoulder.
"Make me feel it, Daddy," she purred. "Make me cum until I can't remember my own name."
He reached beneath her dress, sliding his hand up her thigh, finding the soaked evidence of her arousal soaked into her lace. "You're soaked, pet."
"I've been wet since I woke up," she confessed freely. "Every time I think of you, I need—I need. It's like the pleasure is wired straight into my cunt."
Adrian withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening crimson-pink with her Lust Mana. He brought them to his lips, tasting her with slow deliberation.
"And now you're mine," he murmured, moving to stand between her open thighs. The drag of his cock against the damp lace made her moan, her body straining toward him, almost purring.
"Yes—put it in—please—"
He tore her underwear aside with a sharp sound of fabric splitting, the head of his cock pushing against her entrance. Candy keened, arching her back, nails scratching deep lines into the polished surface of the desk. He entered her with one jerk of his hips—brutal, immediate, filling her so completely that her mouth fell open in a near-soundless gasp.
Her head fell back, her body singing. The Lust Mana surrounding them snapped and crackled like static electricity, drawing latent power from the walls themselves. Level fifty had made her feel invincible, maybe she was. She was Candy. She was Daddy's cumslut. She was the death of all scholarship.
"Look at me." Adrian's command cut through her haze. "I want to see the eyes of my perfect little failure."
Candy opened her eyes, meeting his brilliant emerald ones. She smiled, slow and filthy, as he began to move inside her.
"Oh, I'm a failure, huh?" She gasped as his next thrust hit that perfect spot. "I'll have you know—fuck—I failed my quiz last week because I was thinking about your cock." She laughed a breathless, degenerate sound. "Got a perfect score."
Adrian's head tipped back, a low, guttural laugh rolling out of him. He drove into her with a punishing rhythm, his hand moving to grip her throat.
"Look at you," he said, voice full of malevolent pride. "Useless. Gloriously, devastatingly useless." He twisted his hips in a way that made her see white. "And mine."
It took forever and no time at all. The orgasm that crashed over Candy when he finally allowed it was cataclysmic—it burned through her veins like wildfire, tore her entire body to shards, and rebuilt her again, stronger, filthier, more erotic. She screamed his name until her throat went raw, her massive tits bouncing messily as her body convulsed around his cock.
Adrian continued to pound into her through the aftershocks, his rhythm building with dark, relentless purpose. When his release finally came, he pulled out just enough to spill himself across her thighs, covering the gold-touched skin with his seed.
"Cum," he commanded, and Candy's body obeyed him without hesitation. She came again with a shriek, her seed spraying into his hand as his fingers worked her clit with exquisite cruelty.
The force of her orgasm sent a visible pulse through the room's ambient magic—a shockwave that blew half the candles out. Candy's body twisted, her head thrown back in ecstasy. When she finally collapsed onto the desk, trembling like a newborn fawn, she was smiling like a degenerate.
Adrian smoothed his hand down her sweat-slick back, his touch almost tender. "You'll get your tattoo appointment tomorrow. Ten a.m. In the Demon Quarter." He withdrew from her, still hard, his cock gleaming with her juices. "Lysandra has arranged everything."
"Yes, Daddy." Candy's voice was a quiet, adoring mewl. "Whatever you say."
"Good girl." He stroked her hair back, studying her face with an expression that was half affection, half calculation. "Now, I believe you have a class to fail."
She giggled and rolled off the desk, landing on unsteady feet. Her legs shook, barely able to hold her weight. She pulled her ruined dress back into something resembling a garment, then looked down at her thighs, covered in his spend.
"Should I clean up first?"
"No," he said, still watching her with dark appreciation. "Let them smell me on you. Let them see what happens to girls who forget their studies for the taste of their Dean."
Candy's smile was all teeth and syrup. "You're the best Daddy a girl could ask for."
She walked out of his office with a fresh bounce in her step, absolutely ruined and proud of it. She paused in the corridor to check her reflection in a polished shield hanging on the wall. The collar sat perfect at her throat, glittering. Her dress was askew. Her hair a wild mess. Her makeup smeared.
Gorgeous.
The lecture hall was half-empty when she finally arrived, twenty minutes late, every eye tracking her as she sauntered to a seat in the front row. She let her knees fall open, not caring that the entire hall could see the tacky lace between her thighs, that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Professor Ellsworth paused mid-lecture, adjusting his spectacles. He had been her transmutation instructor last year, a mild-mannered man in his forties who was currently struggling to maintain his professional composure as he caught the distinct scent of sex and power radiating from her.
"Miss Dixon," he said, flustered. "You're late."
Candy stretched like a cat in the seat, her massive tits rising to display her cleavage. "I apologize, Professor," she said in a sweet, syrupy voice. "I was in Dean Aldridge's office. He was giving me special lessons."
The entire class laughed.
Professor Ellsworth turned to the chalkboard and began writing furiously, as if that would somehow stabilize the situation. But Candy kept the pressure on. She uncrossed her legs, pulling one knee up to her chest, her skirt hitching high. He could not see anything, the angle was suggestive but innocent enough. Except for the fact that Candy was absolutely, definitely emptying every ounce of Lust Mana in the room on him.
"You'll need to catch up on Chapter Fourteen," he said, his voice strained.
"Oh, I can't read." Candy said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, holding up one taloned hand with her cream-and-purple nails. "These don't work for turning pages anymore."
The professor's chalk snapped. He turned around, surveying her with something between outrage and reluctant fascination.
"Miss Dixon, this is an advanced course."
"I know." She batted her lashes, letting him smell her secret. "But I have other talents, Professor. Could I use them to maybe get extra credit?"
"Absolutely not."
The class broke into catcalls and whistles. Candy grinned, rising from her chair and stalking toward him right at the podium. She moved slow, undoing the tiny buttons of her top as she walked towards him, until the full glory of her lace-covered tits was nearly spilling out.
"Professor," she purred, right in front of him. "You look stressed. Let me help."
Before he could protest—before he could even establish a coherent thought—she dropped to her knees behind the lectern.
"No, not here—" he hissed.
But his cock was already pressing hard against the front of his trousers, a physical response to her proximity and power. Candy's fingers undid his belt with practiced ease. She freed his cock into the air of the lecture hall, where half the students couldn't see, but all of them could hear.
"Shhh," Candy whispered, opening her lips with theatrical slowness. "This will only take a minute."
And she swallowed him to the root.
Her throat swallowed his entire shaft, her lips wrapping tight at the base. Ellsworth's head lolled back as he attempted to suppress a moan. His hands gripped the lectern hard enough to turn his knuckles white. In the front row, two students were openly filming with their phones.
Candy worked him with expert precision, her tongue curling, her throat opening. She bobbed her head with purposeful rhythm, using her mouth and hands and throat in concert. Her own pleasure hummed in her veins as she drained him of every scrap of lust and stamina.
"Not here—" he gasped, barely coherent.
Candy hummed around him, the vibration making his knees buckle. She reached between her own legs, fingers finding her slick folds, pleasuring herself in full view of the class.
The final eruption was magnificent.
Ellsworth grabbed the lectern with white knuckles, his entire body convulsing as he spilled down her throat in a torrent. Candy drank every drop, swallowing with eager delight, pulling off him with a wet pop only when she was completely certain he was drained.
She stood up, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, grinning at the stunned silence of the room.
"Extra credit?" she asked.
The professor, utterly spent and trembling, managed a single word. "A-plus."
Candy sauntered back to her seat amidst a chorus of wolf whistles and clapping. She sat down, re-fixing her top, and pulled out a compact mirror to check her lipstick and that her collar was still perfect.
Her expression was dreamy; she was thinking, vaguely, of Kendra. The night ahead. Her new collar. Tomorrow's tattoo appointment.
What had she learned today? A bit about transmutation, if she'd been listening, but really, it didn't matter. She was Candy. She had claws on her hands and an ache in her cunt and all the power she needed. Who needed to read, when she could suck a man's soul out through his cock and taste his dying pleasure on her tongue?
The bell rang. Candy rose from her seat and sauntered out of the lecture hall like she owned the place—because, in every way that mattered, she did. Every gaze she met was caught, ensorcelled, dripping with craving.
In the corridor, her phone buzzed. Kendra: Your collar is gorgeous. I can feel it from across campus. Get your ass back here so I can worship it properly.
Candy's lips curved into a smile that was equal parts adoration and filthy intention.
On my way, love.
Her fingers typed out the response, carefully, one nail at a time, like she was typing out a dirty poem.
She paused one more time at her reflection in the glass of a display case, tits impossibly high and full, hips impossibly round, her nails a ravishing display in the lights. She wasn't the same meek girl who'd stumbled into this university with coffee-stained robes and quiet thoughts. She was a weapon forged from pleasure. A succubus in a world of prey.
"Gods," she said to her reflection, stroking one long talon down the curve of her own cheek. "I'm so fucking hot."
And with that, she made her way home—was it home now? The Crimson Lotus blazed with her and Kendra's combined aura, the walls saturated with their shared decadence—where her sister whore awaited, inevitably naked and already wet. Kendra would trace the new ink with her own whore nails. They would marvel together at their twin set of obnoxious acrylics, their matching tanned, improbably gigantic curves. And then they would spend the night finding ever more creative ways to shatter each other's minds.
Candy was brainless, she felt it, empty of everything but love and lust. But she had been remade for it, refined into a perfect vessel of sex and avarice. Inside her chest, where other people kept their ambition and their dreams, she had nothing but a collar. And that, she thought, stepping into the lotus-scented entrance of the Crimson Lotus, was exactly how she wanted to stay.