Tales from the Dubh Linn Read online

  Supposedly Wendy was away on a business trip. An enchanter, she worked away from home more than she would have liked and Barry had just nodded and smiled when she had told him she would be in Manchester for the weekend. As she watched him drive away from a bar with a leggy blonde in the passenger seat she could see why he had smiled.

  Starting the car, Wendy followed them from the centre of Oxford and out along London Road. By then she knew where they were heading; the bastard was taking the bimbo home. Sure enough she found herself pulling up not far from their two storey detached house which she had largely paid for. Barry was a junior lecturer at the university and his salary was pitiful in comparison to the money she worked hard to pull in. She sat watching out of morbid curiosity. There was one thing she needed to know, just one minor detail which seemed so important somehow. After about twenty minutes, the light went on in the master bedroom; he was going to fuck her in their bed.

  Wiping tears from her eyes, Wendy started the engine and pulled the car away. On the way back to the hotel she picked up two bottles of wine in an all-night store. She was going to get drunk and sleep on it before she decided what to do.

  November 27th

  ‘Good weekend?’ Wendy asked, amazed at how calm she was keeping her voice.

  ‘Quiet,’ Barry replied. ‘Watched Grandstand and Match of the Day. Liverpool beat Manchester two-one. I think that was the highlight.’

  She wanted to ask if the highlight had actually been fucking the bimbo in their bed, but what she said was, ‘That’s nice. Work went okay.’

  ‘Great.’ There had been a time when he was actually interested in her work. He would have asked what the client had wanted, what she could actually do for them. Even if he did not understand what she did much, he had tried. Now he did not bother. Eight years of marriage and he had lost interest. Apparently not just in her work.

  ‘I’m kind of tired,’ she said. ‘I thought maybe we could catch an early night.’ She put a little up-turn in her voice, a hint that perhaps she was not really all that tired.

  ‘Okay,’ he replied, not looking away from the TV. ‘There’s a documentary I want to catch on BBC Two. I’ll be up in a couple of hours.’

  Turning so that he would not see the tears in her eyes, not that he was looking, Wendy headed for the stairs. Maybe it was for the best; she was not sure she would actually be able to have sex with him anyway.

  December 5th

  It had taken her a week to decide. She had tried to ignore it, but all she could think about was her husband and the blonde humping in the bed she still shared with him. She had gone out and bought a new bra and knickers, sexier than anything she usually wore, and had walked through the house in them; he had told her she should put some clothes on. Damn it! She kept in shape, she was not that bad looking. He had loved her body when they were married, what had changed? She had thought of confronting him, arranging the divorce, but confrontation was not her thing and the bastard would get half the house.

  No, she knew what she had to do and the sooner the better. She could not live like this. She was a practitioner, damn it! All right, enchanting was her speciality, but any idiot could raise a demon. The demons wanted to be brought to Earth, they made it easy.

  Wendy had rented a self-storage unit on the outskirts of the town the day before, though she had nothing to store there. She had spent most of the morning carefully drawing out the elements of a summoning circle in chalk on the concrete floor. Later she would cover the markings in salt, but she wanted to be sure of what she was doing. Any idiot could raise a demon, but the idiots who did tended to get eaten by them afterward.

  She glanced at her watch; just after five. She would go grab something to eat and then perform the summoning. And then, by Sunday morning, she would be a widow.

  ~~~

  ‘Lorril osh,’ Wendy intoned, reading from a paperback she had picked up on demonology rituals. ‘Ey hofishta sho!’ She had no clue what the words actually meant, but the book claimed that this was a sure-fire method of summoning a succubus used by a lot of wizards in the sixties and seventies.

  In the centre of the circle, the candle she had placed at the southern point of the pentagram flickered and danced as her power released. Aside from that there appeared to be no reaction and she was beginning to think she had done it wrong when the air split open in front of her. Light poured out of the jagged rip in reality, forcing her to cover her eyes. As it died away she looked again and found the light obscured by a dark cloud which swirled and shifted, slowly forming a shape. The cloud seemed to shudder, a ripple passing over its surface, and suddenly Wendy was looking at herself.

  The succubus smiled at the look of surprise on its summoner’s face; surprise was always good. As Wendy got over the shock she started to see the differences. The succubus had shaped itself for the form Wendy wished she took. A little taller than her five-foot-seven, a little more muscle, but under skin as smooth as silk it was less hardbody and more goddess. Its hair was a slightly more vibrant red and a few inches longer. Its breasts were about a cup-size bigger and they held themselves up with a firmness Wendy’s were starting to lose. And she was quite naked.

  Perfect Wendy looked at Wendy, still smiling a smile full of perfect, white teeth. ‘What is your will, Mistress?’

  Suddenly Wendy was not as sure as she had been. Succubi were supposed to be the most fantastic sexual experience you could get. This thing could take the form of her deepest desire and satisfy her in ways Barry never had. The thought made her wet and had her squirming; her husband had not even tried to satisfy her in any way in weeks.

  ‘We have limited time, Mistress. If you wish it, I could return to you after I have done what you summoned me here for.’

  Wendy blinked. ‘You already know why I called you?’

  ‘I know what you want, Mistress. Fulfilling desires is what we are.’

  Wendy pointed down toward the demon’s feet where a disposable razor was sitting on the concrete. ‘That’s his. Find him, seduce him, kill him.’

  Perfect Wendy nodded. ‘Are you absolutely sure of this, Mistress? When I leave here there will be no calling me back. Once I’m gone, your husband will die.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Do you wish me to join you in your hotel room when I’m done?’

  Wendy clenched her fists. Yes, she did, but… ‘No.’ She did, but she did not entirely trust the lovely creature in front of her.

  ‘As you wish, Mistress? Dismiss the circle that I might go about my task. Our deal is made, I will not harm you.’ Wendy stepped forward, lifting her hand to break the circle. She blinked as the power rushed through her… and the demon was dressed. Wendy would never have worn a dress with such a short skirt, or such high heels, but she had to admit she looked good in them.

  The succubus smiled, turned on its heel, and walked out, passing through the door of the unit as though it was air.

  ~~~

  Barry spotted the woman at the bar as soon as he walked in. Tall, blonde hair, a very substantial chest, and legs that went on forever. She looked stunning and he knew he did not have a chance as he approached her… And then she smiled at him.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Could I buy you a drink?’

  She kept the smile and lifted her full glass. ‘I don’t mind you sitting here while I drink it,’ she said. Her voice was soft, husky. He felt his cock stirring.

  Climbing onto the stool beside hers he ordered a whiskey and then turned back to his companion. ‘I’m…’

  She reached out and placed a finger gently on his lips; his cock jumped. ‘We don’t need names. We’re both here for the same thing. Names just complicate things.’ She leaned back again and took a drink.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. She was perfect, his wet dream. A gorgeous woman who liked him and just wanted to fuck. She wanted to screw him! The barman put a glass in front of him and he took a nervous pull on his drink. He had to be really careful not to blow this one. Anonymous sex with a total
stranger. She did not even seem to want chatting up. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said anyway.

  She smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I’ve never had any complaints.’ She emptied her glass and Barry quickly drained his. ‘Can we go back to your place? I want that big cock of yours in my mouth.’

  Barry could not get off the stool fast enough.

  ~~~

  She reached over and unzipped his jeans as soon as he turned the ignition off. ‘What…?’ he gasped.

  ‘I told you I couldn’t wait.’ She bent over the gear stick, her fingers quickly disentangling his engorged dick from his boxers.

  ‘Someone could see,’ he mumbled.

  ‘That’s half the fun.’ Her tongue slid over the head of his cock.

  ‘I’m married,’ he moaned.

  ‘Naughty boy.’ Her lips tightened around his shaft a second later and he let out a groan. She slid her lips down until he could feel the back of her throat, her tongue swirled over his skin. Her mouth felt hot, hotter than he had expected. She sucked, her cheeks hollowing, and his body tightened, his head pressing against the headrest. Her head rose up slowly and then dropped back faster. Up, down. Up, down, faster now. Another three strokes and he felt his balls tightening.

  ‘Going… come,’ he growled out and she just sucked harder. His eyes rolled back, his back arched. He seemed to hang on the edge of coming for what felt like ten minutes before he was finally gushing into her mouth and she was gulping it down like a pro.

  She lifted off him, giggling and licking her lips, and reached for the door. ‘Don’t make me wait in the cold.’ He struggled out of his seatbelt, tucked himself back into his pants, and climbed out of the car. She did not look cold, standing beside the front door with a Cheshire Cat grin on her face, but he hurried to get the door open and let her inside.

  Her dress was pulled off over her head as soon as she got in the door and she was left wearing only a pair of four-inch pumps. Barry swallowed, drinking in the sight of her body, the wide areolas, the nipples which stood out like thimbles, the tattoo of a succubus above her shaved pubic mound. She stepped forward, unbuttoning his shirt. He undid his belt and the button beneath; getting out of his own clothes was becoming a priority. Her hands felt hot against his chest as she slid his shirt aside. God she was hot!

  She pushed him, naked, onto the couch and straddled his hips. ‘I normally like,’ he began.

  ‘You’ve never done it with me,’ she told him and sank his cock into her pussy in one, sudden movement. He let out a gasp; she was tight, and so wet. And she was wasting no time; her big breasts danced in front of him as she started to ride him. He was sure he would last a bare few seconds inside her at this rate. His teeth were gritted as her tried desperately not to come, but it did not seem to matter to her. ‘You’ll come when I let you,’ she whispered. Once again his back arched and he was hanging on the edge. His body was burning, screaming for release which did not come, but this time it kept going. It was incredible, intense. Pleasure beyond anything he had ever experience, or ever would again. His mind melted into a soft fuzz of ecstasy. His heart began to stammer in his chest. His breathing slowed.

  He came and the searing pain which lanced through his chest was nothing to the wave of pleasure that swallowed it.

  December 6th

  Wendy opened the front door and stepped inside. ‘I’m home,’ she called out, just in case. She got no answer, but by then she had spotted Barry’s head sticking up above the back of the couch. ‘Barry? You awake?’ From this angle he could almost have been asleep. She walked around to where she could see him, almost tripping over his jeans as she went. Her breath caught.

  Of course, she had expected him to be dead, but not the expression on his face. It was something like a rictus grin; half intense pleasure, half unendurable pain. She stood looking at him, wondering what it was like to be fucked to death. If anyone deserved it, he did. She had expected to feel more. Pain, horror, even satisfaction. She felt nothing.

  After a few minutes she went to the phone and dialled 999. The ambulance crew who responded called the police and insisted on taking Wendy to hospital to be treated for shock.

  December 21st

  The problem with being self-employed was the Christmas party; there was none. Well, this year there was going to be. Wendy had gone out shopping and found herself a tight, black sheath dress, a little like the one the succubus had worn when imitating her, and four-inch killer heels with open toes. She had discovered they were called “killer heels” because it had almost killed her to walk in them, but she had got the hang of it after two days of wearing them around the house. She had dyed her hair a more vibrant red and put on more make-up than she usually wore, and now she was sitting at the bar in a night club, bored out of her head and on her third glass of wine.

  ‘You look as bored as I am.’ She turned on her stool to find the source of the voice and then tried not to let her surprise show. He was tall, tanned, good looking. There was the suggestion of a firm, muscled body under the tight slacks and the silk shirt. Black hair fell to his shoulders framing a face with a strong jaw, narrow nose, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

  ‘I, uh, yes, I am kind of bored.’

  ‘Here alone?’ She nodded a reply and he nodded toward a loud group of people occupying a corner of the room. ‘Office Christmas party. Sally’s already drunk and throwing herself at the men. My boss is four sheets to the wind.’ He settled onto the stool beside hers without asking; she did not object.

  ‘Well, this is my office party, but I’m self-employed.’

  ‘I wish I was.’ He had a gorgeous, masculine voice, yet soft. It felt like he was stroking her ears when he spoke. ‘You… don’t mind me chatting do you.’ There was hint of uncertainty in his voice; did he really think she would mind chatting to someone who looked like him?

  ‘No, I could do with the company. Partying on my own isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.’

  ‘No husband or boyfriend to keep you company.’

  She shook her head. ‘I was recently… divorced.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. He was cheating on me.’

  His eyebrow raised. ‘He’s been committed, I assume?’

  Wendy laughed and his disbelieving look turned into a grin. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he hasn’t.’

  ‘I’m Flynn.’

  ‘Wendy.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Wendy. Would you care for another drink?’

  Her glass was empty again. ‘I’d love one.’

  ~~~

  His hands were all over her in the taxi. His lips tasted of whiskey and mint. By the time the car pulled up outside her house she was sure the black satin thong she had bought for Barry’s benefit was soaked through. She was betting that Flynn would appreciate it far more.

  It took three tries to get the key in the lock. Partially it was the alcohol and partially it was the squirming. Flynn was actually pulling the hem of her dress up in the street! His hands were on her bare hips. She stumbled through the door as it opened suddenly, tripped over the step and ended up on all fours on the living room carpet with her dress around her waist.

  ‘You read my mind,’ he said and she giggled. Her giggle turned into a whimper as his hands landed on her calves, pushing her knees apart.

  ‘Here?’ The word was half groan.

  ‘Why not? I want you.’ His hands moved. Fingers pulled the crotch of her thong aside. The urgency of his need got to her; she needed him too.

  Suddenly he was in her and she yelped out, ‘Oh God!’

  ‘Not God,’ he grunted. He grabbed her shoulders and began ramming himself into her. Wound up already, she was on the verge of coming almost immediately. Her back arched and her breathe came as pants. Her inner muscles clenched around him and her eyes jammed closed, and her blood was roaring in her ears as they waves of pleasure washed over her again and again. The orgasm, when it came, exploded through her body like a fire storm and left he
r face-down on the carpet, gasping for breath.

  She felt her dress being unzipped. ‘Keep the heels on,’ he said, his voice husky, ‘they do wonderful things to your body.’

  ‘Anything,’ she mumbled. ‘Just fuck me again.’

  December 22nd

  Wendy opened her eyes and thought, for a second, that the night before had been some sort of wonderful, erotic, insane dream. Then she turned over and saw him standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He was naked and erect, and she wanted him as soon as she saw him.

  ‘Uncover yourself,’ he said. She was pulling the duvet off her body before she even thought to question the commanding tone in his voice. ‘Your legs, spread them.’ Her heart was thumping in her chest as she obeyed and he stalked toward her.

  He took her there on the bed and again in the shower, pushing her up against the tiles and spreading her legs with a kick of one foot. He checked her wardrobe and found some clothes she had not worn since she had got married because Barry had thought they were too slutty. She put them on because he told her to. Her work was forgotten as she let him do whatever he wanted to her, whenever he wanted to do it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was slipping away, but with every orgasm she cared less and less.

  By the time it was getting dark Wendy was lying on the floor in front of the couch, panting for breath. Her chest hurt. She could no longer think of anything aside from when the next orgasm would come, even though she thought it would probably kill her.

  Flynn picked her up gently and carried her into the bedroom. Placing two pillows in the middle of the bed, he draped her over them so that her hips were raised and spread her legs wide apart. His lips touched her ear and she moaned.

  ‘Tell me you want me,’ he whispered.

  ‘I want you.’

  ‘Tell me you want me to fuck you.’

  ‘Please… please fuck me.’

  She felt him climb onto the bed between her legs, his cock settling against the entrance to her pussy. He slid in slowly and she whimpered softly into the mattress. He was gentle, slow fucking her, taking his time, but that just seemed to make it more intense. She moaned and whined, and her hands made fists in the sheets. She felt her climax building, her heart hammering in her chest. It began, the feeling of hanging on the edge of ultimate ecstasy for eternity and, distantly, she heard his voice.