Tales of the Crimson Succubus
Branding Nina
by Carmine

Five of Crimson Succubus' strongest thralls dragged the Nubian Nina into the red-hot forge. Upon a massive anvil they chained the obstinate woman, who even now screamed at the top of her lungs.

Succubus stood by a steaming hearth, the flames lapping at her leathery wings and tail. She picked up a rod and placed its end into the kiln. In that hideous maw of red and white she rotated it round and round.

"Begin, my thralls," she ordered.

With her command given, the men lowered their trousers and held high their long, thick cocks. Strong, callused hands worked the shafts' length while index fingers teased bloated, mushroom-like heads. Groans filled the air, blending with Nina's insistent screams, and in that cacophony Succubus opened her wings to absorb all the calenture and consternation that would come her way.

"Behind me, thralls," she ordered as she retrieved the rod and walked over to Nina. "Be still, my slave."

The brand hissed on ebony flesh, Succubus' mark forever etched upon the canvass of skin. Succubus stepped back, her hands releasing the rod. Arching her back, she allowed her fingernails to migrate toward the slit between her epicurean thighs.

"Now!"

The thralls stepped forward, shooting wave after wave of silver juice onto Nina's face and neck. Succubus then moved forward, pushing the thralls aside. The demon fell to her knees and extended a long, snake-like tongue. With uncanny precision she licked along the outline of the indelible mark.

"You are mine now," she whispered.

"Thank you, mistress," responded the slave before passing out.