Chapter 9: Gloryhole Slut
The weeks blurred into a haze of honeyed pleasure and electric torment. Candice's body had become a finely-tuned instrument of suppressed desire, and every single moment of her waking life was now spent on the knife's edge of desperation.
She woke each morning to Kendra's gentle hands sliding the violet butt plug into her ass, coating it with slick lubricant that warmed against her skin. The sensation of being filled first thing in the morning had become as routine as brushing her teeth. But it still made her breath hitch every single time.
"Deep breath, buttercup," Kendra would murmur, pressing the plug home with a practiced ease that made Candice's toes curl.
Then came the dildo. Constantly buzzing, strapped securely between her legs, pressing against her outer lips and sending sparks of pleasure through her pelvic floor with every movement. It wasn't inserted—that would have been impossible to walk in—but it pressed firmly against the slick folds of her pussy through the lace underwear she now wore exclusively.
"That's it. Feel how snug it sits?"
Candice would nod, biting her lip as Kendra adjusted the strap, cinching it tight enough that the toy didn't shift as she walked but loose enough that it didn't chafe. Always so careful. Always so precise.
And then the nipple piercings. Tiny clamps connected to delicate chain links that rested against her sternum, each one set to vibrate at unpredictable intervals. The element of surprise kept her nerves alert, her nipples constantly pebbled and straining against the sheer fabric of her bra. Kendra said the unpredictability was key—it prevented her body from becoming desensitized.
"You're a masterpiece in the making," Kendra whispered each morning, kissing Candice's forehead before sending her off.
School became a bizarre theater of composure. Candice would sit in lectures, her face a careful mask of academic interest, while beneath her desk her entire body hummed with suppressed electricity. She'd learned to shift her weight in subtle ways, rolling her hips just enough to press the dildo harder against her clit, or clenching her internal muscles around the plug to chase that maddening pressure.
But she was forbidden from orgasming alone.
The rule was absolute. Succubus magic users couldn't come without a partner, and the enforced celibacy during school hours created a pressure that built higher and higher throughout the day. By the time her last lecture ended, Candice would be practically vibrating with need, her brain foggy with lust, her thighs slick with arousal, her every thought consumed by the desperate craving for Kendra's touch.
She'd practically sprint back to the Crimson Lotus, her heels clicking against the cobblestone paths, her skirt riding up her thighs, not caring who might glimpse her damp underwear. The only thing that mattered was reaching Kendra, collapsing into those waiting arms, and finally—finally—being allowed to release the tidal wave of pent-up pleasure.
Afternoon trysts became their ritual as the weeks passed.
Kendra would be waiting by the door, always dressed in something scandalous—a silk robe that gaped open to reveal her tanned cleavage, or a leather corset that cinched her waist to an impossible degree. She'd pull Candice inside, and they'd fall onto the enormous bed.
The first time they'd used the strap-on, Candice had hesitated at the sight of its size. Ribbed. Purple. Thick as her wrist.
"You want this inside you, don't you, Candy?" Kendra had asked, stroking the shaft with her pink-nailed fingers.
"I don't know if it'll fit."
It did. Oh, it did. Kendra had warmed her up with her tongue first in that way she did that made Candice feel she was flying. And then the strap-on had pressed inside, inch by glorious inch, and Candice had felt her world rearrange.
"Fuck, you're so tight."
"More. Please, Kendra, I need more."
"Beg for it prettier."
"Please, I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk, please."
And Kendra had delivered.
The sex was world-altering. Candice had never imagined pleasure like this. Her hypersensitive succubus body translated every stroke into pure magic, each thrust sending waves of pink energy coursing through her veins. Watching their bodies move together in the mirrored panels of the chamber—Kendra bending over her, her massive breasts swaying, sweat glistening on their skin—became a drug more potent than anything Candice had ever known.
Kendra was adept, always seeming to know when to speed up, when to slow down, when to pull out just to make Candice ache. She whispered filthy encouragement in her ear, calling her pretty whore and needy cunt in ways that should have been degrading but instead made Candice feel powerful, desired, alive.
Every day, Candice's magic level jumped.
Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.
She was closing in on thirty. Graduation was within reach.
The best sex of her life happened on the day she hit twenty-nine. Candice had come home nearly delirious from six hours of suppressed stimulation, and Kendra had devoured her like a feast. She'd made Candice cum four times, each orgasm more intense than the last, until Candice lay trembling in a pool of her own sweat, unable to move, her throat raw from screaming.
Kendra collapsed beside her, equally spent, their bodies intertwined like vines.
One day soon, Candice noted how Kendra seemed to have altered a schedule to accommodate her new sexual cravings. She knew what she needed, and her best friend was willing to provide.
---
On the day everything changed, Candice burst through the door of the Crimson Lotus, slick with arousal, her thighs rubbing together so desperately that she could barely maintain her walk.
"Kendr—" Her voice died in her throat.
The main room was different. Heavy velvet curtains had been drawn, and Candice could hear wet sounds—a rhythmic slapping, a muffled groan. Through a partially open door leading to one of the private rooms, she saw a glimpse of Kendra on her knees, head bobbing between the thighs of a burly, broad-shouldered man whose head was thrown back in obvious pleasure.
A client.
Candice froze, her entire body screaming with frustration. The plug inside her ass pulsed. The dildo against her cunt throbbed. Her nipples ached beneath the clips. And Kendra was busy.
"There you are, sweetheart."
Candice spun around. Madame Lysandra glided toward her, elegant as a serpent, draped in a black silk gown that hugged her generous curves and shimmered with each movement. Her dark hair was piled up, revealing the elegant column of her throat. Her lipstick was deep burgundy, her smile knowing.
"I need Kendra," Candice gasped, her voice cracked with desperation. "I need her right now. Is this a joke? She's with a client while I'm—"
"I understand your frustration, darling." Lysandra's voice was honey laced with smoke. She placed a hand on Candice's shoulder, and even that innocent touch made Candice shiver. "But my girls can't simply stop their appointments just because their playmates are desperate to come."
"Please." Candice hated how pathetic she sounded. "I've been in lectures for five hours. I can't do this much longer. I'm going to lose my mind."
Lysandra studied her, those dark eyes penetrating and ancient. Candice could feel herself being weighed, measured, found... interesting.
"You know," Lysandra said slowly, "there are other ways to relieve your needs."
"I don't want other people. I want Kendra."
"Do you want to cum, Candice? Do you want that release more than anything right now?"
"Yes." The word came out as a sob. "More than anything."
Lysandra moved closer, her perfume intoxicating, a dark mixture of jasmine and something deeper, muskier. She traced a manicured nail across Candice's jawline.
"In our world, we must learn to separate pleasure from love. Kendra is your anchor, but she cannot be your only source of satisfaction. That would make you dependent, and a dependent succubus is vulnerable." Her eyes glittered. "And right now, you're so very vulnerable."
Candice's throat was dry. "What do you suggest?"
Lysandra's smile was a slash of crimson. "Follow me, darling."
---
The gloryhole was nothing like Candice had expected.
She'd imagined something grimy, a peep-show booth from a low-budget film with sticky floors and the smell of stale beer. What Lysandra brought her to was an elegant room off the main hallway of the Crimson Lotus, decorated in dark paneling and soft amber lighting.
In the center of the room was a gold and glass screen, beautifully carved with spiraling motifs of succubi in various states of undress. Along its polished surface were openings at various heights—some low, designed to accommodate a kneeling woman; others higher, sized for someone to stand or assume other positions. Each hole had a soft cushioned rim, stained from repeated use.
On her side of the screen, there was a pillowed alcove, wide and comfortable, with a thick silk rug beneath it. A small basket held various implements Candice didn't recognize; she could see them in her peripheral vision. But her gaze was fixed on the hole immediately before her.
"What is this?" she asked, though she already knew.
"This is freedom, in a way." Lysandra gestured toward the screen. "On the other side, there's a corridor. Men come through it when they crave a release without the intimacy of a face-to-face connection. They don't know who's on this side. They don't care. They just want to be drained."
Candice swallowed hard. "You do this?"
"I own this establishment, sweetheart. I do many things." Lysandra moved closer, leaning down to whisper in Candice's ear. "There was a time when I was the one on the other side of that screen, serving twenty, thirty men a night just to remember what power felt like."
Candice's body was still screaming for release, her inner thighs slick and sticky, her pelvis aching. She knew what Lysandra was suggesting. The thought made her nauseous with shame, but beneath the shame, filthy and shimmering, was a thread of excitement.
"What if they hurt me?"
"They can't. The screen is enchanted. They can touch you through the holes, yes. They can grope your breasts and grip your hair. But they can't see you. They can't reach around the screen." Lysandra's hand rested on Candice's lower back. "You are in complete control, Candice. If you want to stop, you pull the red cord beside the pillow, and a bell rings on their side. They'll leave. The corridor exits to the street back alley."
"Men will just... line up?"
"Men pay to use these booths. Every man who crosses through has already paid a premium to release himself. And his need is very close to the surface. They're you, in a way—desperate, aching, willing to do anything for the sweet relief of coming."
Candice stared at the gloryhole. Inside her ass, the plug vibrated once, reminding her of her need. The dildo pressed against her swollen, weeping cunt, and she winced at the contact, both unbearable and desperately desired.
"It doesn't have to mean anything, Candice. You can simply come here when Kendra's busy and let each man fuel you. With every load they spill, you'll feel power return, crawling up your spine like a bolt of fire."
Lysandra reached over and opened the basket beside the pillow. She pulled out a pink phallic toy, smooth and glistening with what looked like fresh moisture.
"There are toys in here too. You can have men thrust into you with these if you want. Or you can use them on yourself for your own pleasure. All while your mouth, or cunt, or your lovely rosebud is pressed against that opening, the man on the other side using you as a vessel for his need."
Candice's treacherous body reacted violently at the thought. Her nipples ached, her pussy throbbed, and she felt slickness run down the inside of her thigh.
"Kendra doesn't need to know," Lysandra purred. "Unless you want her to."
"She'll be with her client for another thirty minutes at least."
"Then you have thirty minutes to experience something new. Or you can sit here and wait for her, trying to breathe through the ache of your unused cunt, your empty ass, your burning need."
Candice stared at the screen, her heart hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Fuck it."
---
The position was different from what she expected.
Lysandra helped Candice undress, stripping away layers until she was stark naked, her curvy form displayed in the warm, dim light. Candice noticed herself in the small mirror above the alcove—pale skin with the hint of a tan, small breasts with their sensitive pierced nipples, hips, and thighs that held the new curves her transformation had granted her. She looked like a creature built for sin.
"Kneel here," Lysandra directed, pointing at a cushion facing one of the lower holes. "The height is perfect for your mouth."
Candice settled onto the cushion. The floor was warm, heated from below. Her pussy, desperate and swollen, pressed against the plush surface. Kendra hadn't trained her to wear the vibrating dildo inside herself, just strapped against her mound. As Candice knelt, she knew she was dripping onto the silk.
"I'm nervous."
"Nerves are natural. They'll fade." Lysandra crouched beside Candice, her lips hovering near Candice's ear. "Just remember this one rule, my darling: you don't catch a load, you take it. Let his cum paint your throat, fill your belly, mark you from inside. Succubus magic is thirsty, and these men are the water that will quench it."
With that, Lysandra withdrew, quietly circling around to the door. Candice heard it open, heard a murmured exchange with someone in the corridor, and then her hand came back.
"First one is coming in," she said as if a guest had just entered. "Ready?"
Candice looked at the gloryhole, a mere oval in the gilded screen, dark and blank in its invitation.
"Yeah."
A man's cock slid through the opening.
Candice gasped. It was thick, circumcised, veiny, and already hard. It pulsed with the man's heartbeat. On the other side of the screen, she heard a low grunt.
"Hello?" a male voice said, heavy with arousal. "You still there?"
Candice didn't answer.
Instead, she leaned forward, parted her lips, and took the head of his cock into her mouth.
It was utterly different from being with Kendra. Kendra's strap-on was silicone, lifeless. This was alive. She could taste the man's skin, the faint salt of his arousal, the clean scent of soap. As she worked her tongue around the head, the man groaned and pressed forward, wanting more.
Candice opened her jaw wider and took him deeper.
Her throat muscles contracted. She hadn't sucked a real cock since before becoming a half-succubus—and never a stranger's. But her new instincts kicked in, guided by some primal succubus knowledge buried in her veins. She relaxed her throat and slid the entire length down in one smooth motion, hollowing her cheeks to suckle him.
"That's right, sweetheart," the man grunted. "Fuck, you've got an eager mouth."
Candice pulled back only to shove forward again, bobbing her head. With each movement, she moaned, the vibrations of her throat making the man twitch violently.
The plug in her ass pulsed in rhythm with her movements. And Candice realized she was getting exactly what she'd needed: purpose.
The connection of another person using her body through that anonymous screen was different—yet intoxicating. She was in complete control, even as she kneeled there. If she stopped, he'd be forced to wait or leave. The power was dizzying.
The cock swelled in her mouth, and the taste of pre-cum coated her tongue.
"Gonna cum," the man warned, grabbing a fistful of her short black hair through the hole. "Swallow it, you dirty whore."
Can't talk with a mouthful, she thought with vicious humor, sucking deeper still.
The cum burst into her mouth—hot, salty, thick. Candice swallowed it greedily, used to Kendra's fake loads or downing the way she kept her arousal high. But this was real. She took it all, even licking the shaft clean, until the cock withdrew and disappeared back into the corridor.
A moment later, stronger, she realized she was still hungry.
The second man was bigger. After he came in her mouth, he demanded, "Put it in your cunt. I want to feel those tight lips."
Candice pulled back from the gloryhole. There were more openings beside her, at different heights and angles, for different parts of your body. She saw a low, cushioned bench with a soft, angled pad for her hips, and in front of that, a gloryhole positioned exactly at the level of her crotch when she was on her knees on the bench.
She moved and knelt sideways. The plug in her ass—she pulled it out, slick with her arousal, and placed it beside the cushion. And then she shuffled forward, pressing her wet pussy to the rim of the lower gloryhole.
A new cock slid through the second hole, this one angled perfectly to meet her. The man didn't waste time with pleasantries. He slapped his cock against her inner thigh one, twice, and then drove into her slick pussy.
Candice's moan was raw. The first penetration lit up her spine, and she sank her nails into the velvet padding. The attacker began to thrust, the sound of his balls slapping against her clit ricocheted through the room.
"Fuck, this is a good cunt. Tight and greedy. You were waiting for me, weren't you?"
Yes, Candice's body begged. Yes, I was. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of words, just throaty groans that she swallowed.
He filled her, rock after rock, pounding her unresisting open flesh for five minutes, then six, while Candice writhed on the cushion. She couldn't see his face, but she could hear his urgency in his panting breath, and she focused on matching her own rhythm, pushing her hips back to meet him stroke for stroke, waiting for the moment when she felt his cock pulse deep inside her and realized he was about to spill.
"I'm gonna cum in your pussy, you little cunt." The vulgarity sent a spark down Candice's spine.
"Do it," she croaked, finally breaking her silence. "Fill me up."
He did. Candice felt the wet heat fill her, and she came with it, her orgasm crashing through her, wave after wave, her jaw falling open with a guttural scream. It wasn't as strong as with Kendra, but much more unexpected.
The man pulled out, dripping. Candice's body shuddered as she felt the thick warmth leaking from her hole.
The screen hummed. Another cock appeared.
---
Hours later, Candice collapsed on the cushion, her body glistening with sweat and a sheen of male fluids. Her pussy was swollen and raw, her lips purple with use, her ass aching from the many cocks that had pistoned through the last gloryhole she was on. The carpet beneath her knees was drenched with mixed order.
But her mind was gone, blasted away by the sheer force of her orgasms.
She didn't know how many men she'd serviced. Twenty? Forty? The count had become meaningless. She'd given her mouth to one group of strangers, then her cunt to another, and when Kendra had not come for her after so long and the men had gotten bolder, she'd moved one last time to the highest gloryhole in the wall.
Now her posterior was full of the remnants of at least ten different loads, and her entire body was aflame with a fever she didn't understand. The pleasure, though—gods, the pleasure.
Twenty orgasms? More? Candice had lost count.
By the time the last cock had withdrawn and the screen had gone quiet, Candice lay panting on the cushioned alcove, unable to move her limbs. Her clit throbbed like a second heart. Her cunt was so full of cum that she had to keep her thighs pressed together to prevent leaking.
The door creaked open.
"Candice?"
Kendra's voice was soft, searching. Candice turned her head, her vision blurred with heat.
"Here," she managed, voice hoarse.
Kendra entered. She was still in her stripper outfit, wearing only a little silk robe. She looked at Candice, taking in her nakedness, her filled body, and a slow, wide smile spread across her features.
"Well, well," she said, sitting on the edge of the alcove. "Looks like you found my little secret."
Candice blinked. "Yours?"
"Did Lysandra not mention that this is where I come when you're not here? When I'm not working a client?" Kendra's painted lips curled. "I didn't think you were ready yet. But it seems you've decided to take the leap."
"I couldn't wait any longer." Candice's voice cracked. "You weren't there, and I needed—"
"I know, buttercup. I could feel your desperation through the floorboards." Kendra ran a hand through Candice's sweaty hair, soothingly. "How was it?"
Candice let her head fall back, an expression of dazed pleasure on her face. "Best orgasms of my life."
"You're welcome." Kendra leaned down and kissed her forehead. "In fact, you look like you're ready to go again."
Candice's exhausted body stirred. "Not yet. Maybe after a nap."
"No." Kendra's voice was abrupt, yet soft. "Succubus's training doesn't stop just because you've been a greedy little whore. You're at Level 29. To push to 30, you have to learn to take the pleasure when it comes, not when you're rested." Her hand slid down, pressing against Candice's swollen mound. "So. Again?"
Candice looked at the gloryhole. Another cock slid through, long and eager. Another voice sounded from behind the screen.
"Yeah," Candice whispered, positioning herself on the cushion. The plug she'd pulled out earlier was still there; Kendra pushed it back into her wet, gaping ass while Candice let the stranger's cock fill her mouth.
Before Kendra had returned, Candice had made 100 men cum, and she had orgasmed at least twenty times. The best orgasms she ever had.
Now she moved with renewed vigor, open and hungry for more.