Little Love | Chapter VIII (Patreon)

Another week passed, filled with more perfect meals, more encounters that took Tristan’s breath away, and more hours spent cuddling on the couch watching movies or playing games. After they beat Thirteen Nights, Lillith mused that after watching him play as one character, she would see him play another of her own making.

But this wasn’t what he’d pictured at all.

“So many choices,” Lilith sifted through piles of black latex and strange garments held together by nothing but strips of PVC and a dream. “What role shall my Tristan play?”

Tristan stared into Lilith’s closet with equal excitement and apprehension. Just a glimpse inside the planet-sized collection of leather and lace on his first day in her house had made his heart skip. Lush carpet tickled his bare feet and thighs while he watched her from the floor, sorting outfits into sections of possibilities and impossibilities. Not that he minded, watching Lilith do anything captivated him. Just her shuffling through the closet on her graceful legs, bending forward as if whispering to her lover, touching her finger to her lips in thought; it was impossible to look away.

“I’m up for anything,” he repeated for the tenth time, wondering what exactly it was she had in mind for him. As if he had a choice in the matter.

“You say that, but it should be something that fits you. A perfect ensemble.” Lilith hummed and strolled to the pile of possibilities. “This will certainly aid us for future options.” She bent to one knee, eyes glittering with determination, and began to separate them. Straps, buckles, belts, and shoes flew from the mountain of clothing into her ever-growing impossibilities pile.

Finally, she stopped and held a crisp white piece of fabric up for inspection, nodding approvingly. “Ahhh… Yes, I believe this is best.”

“What…what is that?” It didn’t look like enough fabric to cover one leg, let alone his whole body.

“Your role, my sweet.” She giggled. Standing, she dropped the white number into his lap alongside a black bag. “Dress quickly, now. My imagination will run away with me otherwise.”

“All right.” He sighed and moved to a corner of the room to undress, stripping from his boxers and T-shirt. Holding up the concerningly small length of fabric, he tugged and poked his fingers between the straps where he guessed his arms should go. It looked a little like a woman’s one-piece swimsuit. His fingers trembled the longer he stared at it.

She really wants to see me in this?

“Is aught amiss?” Lilith called from inside the closet.

“N-No,” he replied quickly. “Are you watching me?”

“Of course not. That would ruin the surprise.” Lilith’s amusement raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “Besides, I must dress as well.” She vanished inside of her closet, her smile as secretive as its contents.

With a deep breath, Tristan stretched out what he hoped was the neck and slid his legs into the two holes at the bottom. The spandex clung to his abdomen and torso, thin straps cutting into his shoulders and baring his arms. It raised in high arches on the sides of his thighs and dipped low on his back, leaving most of his spine vulnerable. He thought the worst part of the whole thing was how tightly it wrapped around his crotch, riding hard against his inner thighs.

As soon as he opened the bag, however, the actual worst part stared back at him.

Rabbit ears. Wrist cuffs with golden cuff links shaped like hearts. Along with a fluffy white tail that didn’t look at all like it wrapped around the waist. Instead, it held a slick, oddly shaped implement at one end and the fluffy ball of white at the other. Is this for me?! A flood of color rushed to his face. heart surged, and his breathing came faster. Setting the tail aside with a quivering hand, he slid the ears on his head, the headband hugging his temples.

“Lilith?” he called.

“Are you on the bed, sweet?”

“N…No…?”

Another giggle. “You should be.”

He labored the handful of steps from the corner to the bed with a grimace. The spandex gripped and threatened to wiggle its way into parts of him where he did not want to feel fabric. Crawling onto his knees, he rested his weight on his calves while he smoothed the fabric as best as he could and straightened the cuffs on his wrists. This was insane. He may have loved the theater and musicals, but a bunny?

“Here we are.” Lilith threw the doors of her closet wide and made her entrance into the room. Tristan caught his breath. A series of thin, black, leather straps just barely covered her vital areas, leaving nothing else to the imagination. One hand was empty as she leered at him from across the room, and a riding crop resided in the other, dangling lazily at her hip.

“What an adorable little bunny you make,” she crooned, making her way to the bed. Tristan held his breath, his heart slammed against his chest, and a thin coat of sweat covered his skin.

“I-I don’t…T-this is…” he stammered, but a full thought refused to take shape on his tongue before she was at his side.

Lilith pinched his chin in her free hand, tilting his eyes up to hers. The straps over her chest pressed into her skin, and the lower half of her breasts spilled out into his vision. Tristan swallowed hard. “My sweet, skittish Tristan,” she murmured. “Do you not find this a suitable role?”

Seeing as his first instinct was to dart beneath her bed and hide, maybe she had a point. “I-I—”

“‘I’m up for anything.’ Is that not what you said?” She bent forward, and her breath was hot on his lips. The riding crop tapped a slow rhythm against her thigh. Heat rushed into his fingertips, his toes, flooded between his legs.

“Yeah. I did,” Tristan whispered. She was so close. The strap around her chest was fighting for its life. He licked his lips. “It’s a good role.”

“I thought you might agree.” Lilith released his chin and moved her hand to the back of his neck, drawing him forward and looking over her shoulder. “It appears you still need your tail.”

“I… I didn’t know…” Tristan’s voice died in his throat as Lilith circled the bed, the tail in her hand. He didn’t remember bringing it to bed, and he struggled to think of when she could have picked it up.

“Did not know how to wear it? No need to worry. A good mistress will always take care of her pet.” With a wicked smile, she dragged a nail down his spine. He shuddered beneath her touch. “Just relax.” Leaning her palm to his back, she urged him to bend forward until he was on his hands and knees.

Parting a small hole in the back of the suit that he hadn’t realized was there, Lilith’s fingers split his cheeks and ventured near an area he’d never imagined touching like this.

Oh… Oh, God…

“L-Lilith?” He was nervous, excited, and unbelievably horny. Whatever she did to him, he’d allow without protest.

But this was scary.

“Relax, Tristan,” Lilith repeated. “This will not hurt.” She teased the toy against the vulnerable opening she’d exposed. The slick silicone rubbed against him, threatened to penetrate him, made his heart leap into his throat.

Tristan jerked away from her hands, a tremor rumbling through him with the thought of that thing going inside him. It looked so big. And wide. And big and wide—

A strident crack filled the air as the crop sang against his flank. He cried out in surprise, a mixture of pain and pleasure blossoming from the contact.

“Y-You—ah!—said it wouldn’t hurt!” Tristan exclaimed. The sting vibrated through his skin, raising goosebumps everywhere around it. He wanted to feel it again.

“I said the tail will not hurt.” Lilith traced the thin red line blooming across his skin. Tristan moaned. “Oh? Do you enjoy the kiss of leather?”

“Y…Yes,” Tristan admitted.

Lilith brought the crop across the other cheek, granting the first line a perfect mate. Another cry tore from Tristan’s throat, punctuated by a delicious shiver. His erection warred against the spandex.

“Now, will my bunny stop running away?”

“Yes…mistress.” He wasn’t sure why he’d added the title. Maybe because she’d said it once already. But it felt right. And he was rewarded with her delighted giggle.

“Very good.” Lilith crawled onto the bed, her knees touching his feet. Whimpering, Tristan gripped the sheets and touched his forehead to the mattress.

The sensation of her delicate fingertips returned to his skin, the cool toy to his opening. He bit his lip, still reveling in the reverberating stings from the riding crop.

“Good boy,” Lilith cooed.

As she eased the tail downward, Tristan’s eagerness to please her reacted for him, his hips grinding backward toward her hand, further down onto the toy. The sensation was strange, invasive, terrifying, exhilarating. He could hardly breathe. The deeper it went, the more he could feel it move inside of him, kneading him inch by painstaking inch. His head spun, and his skin tingled.

When the toy reached its base, the head drove into a point inside of him that erupted with pleasure. Like he was already close to a climax. Tristan gasped, and he rocked back against her hand.

“Now you are complete,” Lilith murmured. Taking him by the waist, she drew him back until he rested in her lap, melting in her arms. “Imagine if you remained this way for one entire day, my pet.”

“Oh, God. I-I don’t… I couldn’t…” Everything throbbed and pulsed and begged to be touched. His breathing rasped. She gently pumped the tail and massaged that same point, sending waves of goosebumps rocketing up his spine. Forcing short gasps and desperate moans from his lips. Somehow, he still hadn’t climaxed, despite feeling like he was.

Lilith’s free hand slid around to his stomach and drifted south to massage his shaft through the thin white fabric. The pleasure that consumed him was mind-blowing. He wrapped an arm behind her neck, watching her fingers trace and tease him with expert precision. Maybe he could stay like this for an entire day.  

“How does that feel?” she asked, tracing the lines of his ear with her tongue.

“L-Like I—ngh!—Don’t stop,” he moaned, finding himself pushing his hips against her to make the toy move harder inside of him. “Please don’t stop, mistress.” Any semblance of control he held over himself had vanished—all he wanted was for her to keep touching him.

Tristan craned his neck to claim her mouth with his. Her fingers continued to tease and taunt him while his tongue searched hungrily beyond her lips. She leaned back on the bed, and he followed, repositioning himself until he straddled her at the hips. The sensuous moans that escaped her stroked the places that her hands could not. He broke their kiss to travel the landscape of her body, ready to snap those leather straps in half.

That’s when he saw them.

Horns. Long, curving horns, the color of her beloved rosewood, branching out from beneath the waves of auburn hair on both sides of her head. Tristan’s breath caught in his throat. Ice saturated his veins.

“Tristan? What’s wrong?” Lilith’s hands immediately moved to his shoulders. She searched his face, worry consuming her emerald gaze.

Tristan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew his eyes were as wide as saucers, knew that fear was close behind.

Lilith touched his cheek, scrutinizing his form. Seeking out a pain that wasn’t there. “Have I hurt you? Please, let me help—”

“Lilith… W…What are…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He reached out his hand and stroked a horn with his fingertips. It had the same polished touch as her furniture. Dark indents segmented the horns into multiple pieces, and their tips looked as sharp as daggers. They seemed so wrong, framing her beautiful face.

“Oh no,” she whispered, following his focus. “Tristan, I—”

“What are you?” Tristan managed.

“I am…” She paused, brushing the fair hair from his eyes. “I am a succubus.”

A…monster? Had there ever been a succubus showcased in a positive light? Tristan wanted to laugh; this had to be a joke. Instead, it felt as if she’d given him the final piece of the puzzle he was looking for. Why there were no windows in her house. Why his stuff had just magically appeared despite not knowing his address. Why she was so eager for…

Tristan slid away from her, grabbing one of the pillows and covering himself with it. He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

Pain muddled Lilith’s expression—like he’d struck her—as she pushed herself to sitting. She extended one arm, seemed to think better of it, and lowered it to her lap. “Tristan—”

“You don’t care about me at all.” Tristan’s voice cracked, and he hated it.

A wry smile toyed at her lips, and she shook her head. “You see, there lies the irony.” Lilith tucked her legs beneath her and canted her head. “The glamour—the…illusion, I suppose—falters when I feel…vulnerable.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I care about you deeply.” Lilith brushed her hair away from her face, her horns catching the dim light with the movement. “If I did not, you would already be dead.”