I receive the visitors in a spontaneous spatial warp and manifest hall of vaulted ceilings. We're somewhere off the coast of Thlact Angaelkar. If this situation spirals into real danger, or they do something tiresome like opening a portal to their home base, I'll rip the ceiling open and call the briny deep to crush them for me.

In my mind's eye I see the fractal moons of Machrae Diir trimming the midnight clouds with silver, red light filtering down on the stark promontory where the crescent tower overhangs my seer's dais. Waves crash on the rocks below. I feel their spray upon my skin, feel the magnetic buzz of unraveling auras pouring into me. Bringing memories of hunting predators in dark waters, old things stirring in the deep...

Later, Kai. Sech is gone. You're finally safe. You can finally dive into yourself and figure out what it is you want from the sea in just a bit. Just play the good hostess, first.

Fissures gush obscuring blue fumes. Dismembered figures squirm in bindings. Rifts in the floor stare down to distant hells, red glows and winged figures teeming.

I'm sure my ardent guests want me to call them "invaders," but to my mind "invasion" connotes a meaningful threat. So far no one's topped the Crusade of a Thousand Heavens, and... well... much as I do enjoy mocking the divine, that was a meaningful challenge.

Enough, Kairlina. You promised yourself you'd find joy in something other than slaughter, remember? And besides, the visored figures with their matching insignia and carefully pigeon-holed complimentary power sets might yield a challenge of another kind.

The thought makes me giggle. That's right... I just need to persuade them to give me the right kind of fisting! A quick aura-reading... mhm. They're quite in vain. I could cast a battle augury if I really wanted to dig in, maybe summon the old umbral blade just to toy with them for a bit--no, stop. I am not doing this today. Put the Ruinborn back in the vault. Temper that searing Saelvur edge with a little winter poise, hm?

--Oh, fuck me, I've been ignoring the speech!

A big bruiser type, anthro tigress. Team leader by aspect if not by designation. Arms folded, tail lashing. "--can cooperate," she's saying, "and the boss will let you keep this enterprise running the same way you have before." She cracks her knuckles. Ooh! Satisfying. "Resist?"

"And you'll have to put the hurt on me, yes, yes," I say. I'm still terrible at snapping my fingers--somehow--but I can generate a nice loud sound all the same.

There we are! Music accompanied by pulsing fire-gouts from the fissures, auroral holograms shaped by nowhere light. I must confess I didn't have a secret genius plan. I just did the snap for a little extra flair. But I'm far too practiced a domme already--ever since consuming Sech's little Shard, I've been oh-so busy making up for lost time!--to miss how the rat-girl in the back left snaps to attention for a second. I take it back. No challenge.

Well, now... that's fun too!

"Sweethearts," I say, running my talons over the indulgent swell of my hips--less so than one of the team's own members, but there's more to sensuality than pure mass. So, so much more. Oh, gods of the lost, I'm going to eat these morsels alive.

Metaphorically speaking.

Probably metaphorical.

"My darlings, my doves, my dear sweet honored guests," I continue. The tigress gets a very conflicted look, so I know she's made the mistake of processing me as "humanoid" and assuming that means she won't be attracted to me. "I've read your MO. I know you."

The slow strut, oh, I how love the slow strut! I've practiced so much, but there's so little use for it in a phase-duel. Here, though? Here it serves me very well! Every eye on me, a languid forward slip of each leg with my tail twisting playfully over my curves all the while.

The eagle chooses this moment for a pop-up beam attack. Foresight tells me it will effectively be a laser. An energy beam against me. Against me! I eat stars, you adorable idiots! The very idea that his tiny body could output enough power to--oh, enough.

Don't be cruel, Kai.

In any case, receiving the hit feels both cheap and mood-killing.

Though if it would be fun to let them see me bend light itself and swallow, moaning with delight, parting my gown to grace their eyes with sight the rays transmuting, translucent pulses under my skin to highlight ribs and brighten my womb tattoo. To let them see how the fleshy shapes warp, distort, change and squirm inside the hyperdimensional flesh of an outer succubus.

Corrupted radiation streaming down through my belly, emerging as a swarm of new-birthed parasites from my pussy-folds, along the coils and creepers and claws of horrid things answering my lust to crawl forth from the labyrinthine spaces inside my womb…

Unfortunately, by the time that thought occurs to me, I’ve already made my move. A blue-dappled flash-step aside a fraction of a second before the beam erupts. It disappears into the obsidian floor behind me without raising so much as a glow.

"You don't know anything about us," the eagle shouts.

"Well, now you're putting me in a rather awkward position," I say, de-manifesting and reappearing as my wolf-phase--with some eldritch flair, of course--blue-burning paws draped atop his shoulders, backwards-angled horns clustered behind my white-furred ears.

The tigress freezes in full-blown Sapphic panic. Given the choice, I will always make that particular quandary worse, so I favor her with a wink over her avian friend's shoulder.

"Your organization's security protocols exist in reality, as part of its laws." I teleport in beside the big orange lady and lean against her. "I, an outer demon, routinely..." I pause for just long enough to drag my thick, three-fork tongue over my chops and gather myself for some disgustingly self-indulgent emphasis as I continue, "violate those laws. I bend, break, unmake and reshape them to my whims a thousand times a second. I violate the First Law of Thermodynamics just by existing."

Then, just to really make my point, I enter sight-space where I am solid only within the vision-cone of the increasingly panicked fox-witch--a distorted screen of being physically present in the non-physical concept-realm of the images "on" her eyeballs.

Fuck, I love being me!

"So," I say, "if I took this seriously, I could learn a plethora of hyper-classified secrets and seduce all your technology--I get on very well with computers--throw open every containment zone in all those special research facilities your boss hides from you, and once I've subverted everyone I can tempt to fall for me, I would introduce some self-propagating cognitohazards causing things that aren't terribly nice to think about," I finish. "Is this fun?" "It's BULLSHIT!" the tigress roars.

The fox chants frantic incantations to a bunch of spirits whose sense of self-preservation is far too refined to try tangling with me.

"Hey Kai," one of the wraiths whispers in astral space. "How're the kids?"

"You mean 'when,'" I whisper back politely.

Enough, I'm straying into mean Kai territory again. Back to the pitiable sliver where the flesh-souls and their needlessly narrow self-conception of reality intersect with the continuum forever unfolding.

I manifest a whip of hissing cobalt nova along with me this time. One snap of my arm, and a hypersonic crack that sends rippling images of erotic entanglement in spherical waves from the whip's tip, just about puts the quivering rat on the floor.

"Are you, um..." I tilt my head. "Are you tribute? You seem like tribute."

The tigress has reached the point where both priorities in her personal continuum--fight the wolf, fuck the wolf--involve tackling me. So naturally, she charges and tries to knock my jaw off with a haymaker punch: she's denying herself to serve her boss.

Or does she want me to take her off balance? The pressure-wave emanating from the dodged punch reveals her kinetic energy powers. After all this teasing my mind jumps straight to the kinky possibilities. I bet she can vibrate anything she wants to...

In any case, I'm well prepared when she answers the twining of my whip around her arm with a kinetic yank, pulling my form through the air past her--well, it was supposed to be past her. I spring off when she pulls and fly an arcing collision course that sends me slamming right back to her chest.

A slam, a tumble, a snarl from her while we grapple. Then a woozy groan after I put her in the path of the delirium-inducing spell the fox had meant to hit me with once the tigress threw me into a clear shot. Good plan! Unfortunately for them, I am still me.

"Oh, hey, these silly super-battles are actually kind of fun!" I laugh, straddling the downed tigress. I peck her fluffy cheek because, come now, it's right there.

A lazy sigh. I begin rising slowly, then pirouette upwards and away to dodge a beam so easily it looks planned. The eagle clacks his beak and flaps harder with frustration.

"Look, cherries," I say, twirling the whip idly. Its tip rips amber sparks from the floor. "Let me put it this way. I'm from fantasyland. Urban, contemporary, epic, dark... take your pick. In the conceptual realms I'm from, we kill our enemies. Like, routinely."

"That's so hot," the rat groans, fondling herself. I love rats.

"We kill people sometimes!" the eagle snaps, almost defensively.

"Oh, I don't mean that as a mark of pride or some kind of," I run through a complicated array of expressions. How do I want to put this? "Anti-moral moral point," I finally decide. "Just bloody fact. I'm very happy to play with you. I just want you to know that the energy readings your tech specialist collects so frantically, the ones meant for cobbling together some sort of MacGuffin to nullify my powers? Are a waste."

Watching someone stutter through a beak is a novel and very enjoyable experience.

"H-how did you know that?" the eagle demands.

"Hm?" I consider. "I just imagined the most demeaning, trivializing solution to my powers and figured you had someone working on it." I wave a paw idly. "I take it impersonally these days. Please tell..." A little of the sight? Seems fair! "... the charming ferret at their little computer-bank that numbers only measure my effects, not my cause."

I tighten the whip between my claws. "I'll make you a deal, because you've all been good sports, and I only like to step on feelings when turns me on." The infernal nova in my eyes stokes brighter. Superheated azure fumes pour from my maw. "If you can defeat me in sexual combat, Machrae Diir will work with you for..."

I lick my chops. "One month. Does that sound fair?"

"A month?" the fox demands. "If we beat you in a real fight--"

"Doubtful," I laugh. "Do you really want me to pull out the good stuff? Stasis fields, multi-timeline attacks, Cascade Evisceration?"

"FLAY ME, MURDER MOMMY!" the rat screams.

"She does not speak for the rest of us," the tigress says, holding up one claw. "Uh... can I get a reset? I feel like I'm gonna lose real fast if you're already sitting on me when I start?" She blinks. "Hey, wait a minute, didn't you stand up earlier?"

I look down. I am, indeed, straddling her again. "Oh, right, sorry! Accidental timeline merge. Happens a lot if I lose track of which continuity I chose to manifest by my actions."

She absorbs that while I once again extricate myself.

"Machrae Diir's essence is entwined with my psyches, and those of the other denizens, you know," I say. "A living dimension behaves far differently from the input-output device you're expecting. Even if you did manage to invade, you'd have seize control of a disempowered husk. Only by this community's own desires will that power exist for you."

"Oh," the fox murmurs.

I shrug. "As I said, fantasyland. Different rules here, take it impersonally, et cetera, et cetera. Let's dwell on happier matters. How does everyone feel about Pleather for Breakfast as musical accompaniment? And yes, I am going to lipsynch to the moans."

"You can't be serious," the fox says. "Sexual combat against a demon of lust? How is that fair?"

I lean forward, letting my breasts dangle. Her eyes drift to the downy white fur between my ample cleavage. "I like succumbing to my own desires. Resisting pleasure, contests of endurance... those are mortal predilections, dear. Noxious forms of sexual meritocracy. I only enter sex to maximize pleasure--my own, my lovers'..."

I grin. "Anyway, it's more fair than pitched combat against an immortal cosmic horror."

Considering looks. A huddle. A whispered conference.

My visitors ultimately agree to my terms.

Some might argue I cheated--I kept a few small secrets to myself. Secrets like transcending refractory periods, and how I can stand and "fight" just fine while cumming myself brainless. They come much nearer to victory than they realize. But in all the moaning and swaying hips, the tantalizing traces of my lambent claws on swelling cocks and dripping pussies standing out stark against their jumpsuits, they overlook the obvious.

Sexual combat depends on stoking your foe's pleasure so high they just can't bear to waste a single braincell on fighting back. And the delight of being my own Lady, here in the lambent halls of my self, outstrips all the pleasures they could ever offer me.

Before all else, this is the heart of a succubus: freedom to direct her own lust.

They come close to changing my mind, though. With ever-more frantic caresses along my striped thighs, with eager licks at my bewitching pussy-folds. I toe the line, psychic edging between dominion and surrender--would it be so terrible? A month under the collar, putting my realm-shaping to another's will? Only lust, lust, the sweet abandon of lust! I could always slip the restraints and sneak away in the night if I ever grew bored...

I'm almost disappointed in myself--that beneath every whorish tongue-sweep along a twitching shaft, every suck, every twist of my hips, every sigh and moan and howl of ecstasy when I crest the wave of climax in time with one of my dear guests, I cling to the little reminder. That cold, insistent place where even lust fades away. The innermost citadel, the true Sarcophagus.

I almost let them breach it.

Almost.

When I roll my eyes back with a final urgent groan and feel the last of the tigress's surging sperm coat my womb, I remain lucid. I lick her cheek and uncoil with a slow yawn. Ah, the bitter hollowness... hm. Well. I won, but there's every reason to keep going, yes?

Assuming I have won, that is. "Who has another round in them?" I ask. "Barring a little reinvigoration from yours truly, that is."

Only moaning.

I tap my cheek. "Hmmmm... pets, I'll grant you more. But only on the condition that you concede defeat. Give yourselves to me for a month, and I promise you ceaseless pleasure. After that, you're free to return home." I grin. "Moan if you agree."

And oh, oh, oh!--they do