The Succubus

Serpents-II[1]
Gustav Klimt-Water Serpents II-1904
Nightly, though sometimes in the daytime too, it has to be admitted, whenever I close my eyes, empty my mind and begin to drift, you appear against a shimmering, shifting background of various shades of blue. Sky, Klein, Royal, Electric. The hues of sex, sorrow and the sense of shame that can only be savoured because there is no succour to be found anywhere in this world.
An anthology of every one of your conceivable postures is imprinted indelibly upon my memory.
Sometimes you tentatively gesture with your forefinger, knowing full well that your feigned shyness is the ultimate aphrodisiac and that I will follow you wherever.
The red zonal markings of your target areas (mouth, tongue, the areola, the labial lips and the cleft of your cunt) beckon to me against the white hesitations of your flesh. You lead me into the shower where the water beats against our shoulders while outside the rain drums against the windows and the roof. I hold your glacial stare with difficultly (never have I known such icy depths) as we embrace each other with one arm (our other hands exploring our respective tropics).
Some nights I am rendered immobile. Yet you still approach, straddle my face with your firm flanks as you take me in your mouth.
While on the still deeper nights, you torment me with black echoes of our imagined union with a succession of strangers –your heavy breasts rubbing against the swollen nipples of a series of sluts or mounted from behind by a stable of studs.
During the interminable nights (and days too, if the truth be told) you taunt me, tease me, tempt me, tie me, bind me… I can never get enough, I will never be sated; this fire cannot be quenched.
Till the time when I unwillingly open my eyes and the vision vanishes, all my lust fades in the grey half-light of an ashen dawn and I am left with an unbearable leaden ache in the centre of my being that weighs down every passing moment. That is, until I fall asleep again.

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55 thoughts on “The Succubus

    1. Thank you Roger, this is one of my ever expanding Blue pieces… need to get my mind off this subject. Glad you liked it…. I was hesitate (as always) though really I shouldn’t be by now. Glad to write some prose again, gearing myself up to getting back to Tempting Fate soon.

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      1. Hesitation is good. It often means we have achieved something but are slightly afraid of committing ourselves to what we ave achieved. I am often more hesitant about y good writing ‘on the edge’ than about my not so good writing, ‘won’t offend anyone’. It is a tightrope that we must walk.

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      2. Comfort is where you find it. I found it many times in the depths of books, in art galleries, and in quite out of the way libraries where others rarely wandered. I also found it in journal writing. in the bar, but seldom in the bottom of a glass.

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    1. Thank you Em. Did you like it? I was a bit worried I had crossed some kind of line (but I think I have maybe crossed it before at some point). Believe it or not the starting point was the colour of the words.

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      1. Well, you didn’t cross my line. I can’t speak for others. You’re erotica feels unique to me, perhaps against the surrealist backdrop you’ve laid from the beginning, so even if it is explicitly real…I still feel like I’m in another realm. And I can believe it started with the color words…I love it when that happens, a little nugget gives birth to something beyond its intention. I love it, yes.

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      2. Thank you Em, I think it is really hard to write well about erotica. There are so many potential traps, too clinical or too crude (I have no problem obviously with crude words but they have too be used sparingly) too mechanical or too vague. The idea is to excite the senses and the mind and that is not easy at all. And something the most thought provoking erotica (I am thinking De Sade and Bataille) is actually not erotic at all.

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      3. There’s something about the way you use the crude words that works. There’s an equality in the heat between your subjects, even when one is clearly dominant. My erotica writing has slumped in production the last few months, probably just in line with life’s ups and downs. But, always inspiring to read others work to help fire up again. And I agree…the mind must be stimulated. But, I say that as something of a sapiosexual, so I’m biased. 🙂

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      4. I read a good comment once about the writer Octave Mirbeau which was a good tip…that masochism is more aesthetic than sadism…and you know that I think the female is inherently more aesthetic than the male… though I am sure that certain people would disagree.

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      5. Well…depends on the female and depends on the male, perhaps? 🙂 And the viewer? But the tip is pretty true, in terms of aestheticism, but I’d just add that aestheticism is not always a requirement for arousal…

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      6. That is true… besides Mirbeau (the fin-de-siecle decadent writer not the libertine pornographic writer from the time of the revolution) was a definite masochist involved in some horribly sordid affairs with actresses, so he was definitely arguing from his own peculiarity.

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  1. Well done. I like this part especially:
    “The red zonal markings of your target areas (mouth, tongue, the areola, the labial lips and the cleft of your cunt) beckon to me against the white hesitations of your flesh.”
    This is relatable (though maybe not for everyone, lol) and intense and arousing.

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  2. The piece is wonderful. The reader unfortunately (at least on my phone) doesn’t show the words in color. They do show on your blog page though. Sex, sorrow, sense of shame, succour… savoured. That is a brilliant line. Actually all the alliterations are wonderful. Dreamy in a totally Cake way. Who’d want to wake up?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, I always thought that it was a sign of a ‘bad taste’ to alliterate in prose (or so I have been told) as it is showy and baroque. But rules are meant to be broken sometimes. Anyway I am glad you found it dreamy, and it’s about time I did dream.

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  3. If the succubus (Lilith, etc.) is timeless, I don’t imagine it/she takes showers, a late twentieth century contraption.Otherwise, I love your adjective strings, including Klein blue. I imagine your creature to be Klimty eternal Vienna Secession.

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    1. Good point, you are going to have to grant me poetic license on this one. I love Klimt and yes that was what I was aiming for. I have written about Yves Klein on several occasions.

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    1. Thank you very much Kindra… not all of my stories are in this vain though there are a couple. I can send you links if you like but what would your preference be…long or story, risqué or fantasy?

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