The Solstice Succubus (part one)

When that goddess within turns out to enjoy the holidays more than you want her to. Part one of a horrifyingly erotic Christmas short story.

I can feel my mind race a thousand times. Mental lapses and cathartic finishes. All unhinged pieces come to form a disastrous picture of beauty. I know in the depths of my mind that I was a goddess. Does morality matter? Not to an effervescent being. I was born of grace and aged up to become an enchantress. I was here, seducing all. Gender didn’t matter back then. I was accepted by those who wished to be blessed by me. The men became a chair, using their bodies to hold mine. I can still hear their whimpers when I sat down, allowing my rear to graze their chest. The greatest pleasure was to serve me.

I feel my human body longing to return. I was yearning and aching to be served again. Earthly musings cannot trap such a sensual being. So, in my mind, the goddess within roams free. She comes to play when I get ready for a night out. Perfumes with musk, tobacco, and spice call her name. She craves to be seen, smelled, and heard. My voice drops to a warm husky tone, laced with cigars and ja…