The Devil's Playthings (Book 2 of "The Succubus")

By Alana Church

Dark currents are flowing through the home of Rachel Wainwright. A successful attorney, she has become the unwitting vessel for a succubus. Now, in order to increase her power and to escape the prison of Rachel's body, Althea is slowly turning the conservative lawyer towards a more sexual lifestyle. While she waits impatiently for her husband to return for the weekend, her eyes roam, wondering what pleasures might be found among the other members of her household. Will it be her sexy maid? Or someone else? No matter who catches her eye, Rachel and her family have become...The Devil's Playthings.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“So I am wondering,” Rachel said to Maria, “if you might want to work for my family full-time. You would do what you already do, but we would be the only household you work for. You would have to quit your existing job, of course, but I can certainly improve on your salary. Heck, I would probably save money, considering how badly your boss is shafting the both of us. In addition to taking care of the house, you would also be responsible for my husband's workshop, if he chooses to move back here. And sooner or later Sarah is going to move out. She does a lot of the cooking for us now, so we are going to need someone to prepare meals.”

“I can cook!” Maria said eagerly. Her head spun. This was a dream come true! “I love making good food! Although,” she said, her voice faltering slightly, “my meals may be different than what americanos are used to.”

Rachel laughed. “What else?” she continued. “Oh. Right. If you like, you can move in, as well. Rent-free. There is a small apartment over the garage which we've never used. It has its own kitchen and bathroom, and is hooked up to all our utilities, so you can avoid that expense. It's unfurnished, but we'll help you move your things up there if you like. It has its own entrance as well, so you would have complete privacy. You wouldn't have to worry about us barging in when you wanted to be alone.

“However,” she said, “there are a few conditions we must set.”

“Anything!” Maria said eagerly.

“First of all,” she said, “We simply must do something about this uniform. It is very unflattering for a woman with a body as lovely as yours.” She casually reached up and started to unbutton Maria's thick, heavy blouse. Her eyes were wide and avid, the pupils dilated.

“Lovely,” she said, satisfied, as she came around to her front again. “But this,” she continued, letting her hand graze the plain white cotton of Maria's bra. “It won't do. When you come to work for me, I want something more.” As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she reached behind Maria and unclasped her bra. Her breasts sprang loose, wantonly exposed to her view.

“Not that you should walk around topless every day,” she said, with a glint of humor. “I don't want to expose my family to that much temptation. I am trying to reconcile with Josh, after all. I can't have him looking at you when he should be looking at me. Just wear something attractive. Something which will remind us of the beauty to be found in the world.” Her voice deepened. “Something which will make us desire you, as a woman should be desired.”

Desire opened like a pit in Maria's belly. She trembled softly, wondering whether her deepest, most hidden fantasies were about to come true.

“You're beautiful, too,” she said softly. She stood bravely, meeting Rachel's eyes. “I would never try to take your novio away from you. He should be in your bed. But I would like to be there, too.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Apr 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311835604

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

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The Devil's Playthings

Part Two of The Succubus

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2016 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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Our story thus far...

Torn out of her body by a foolish mortal, Althea, daughter of Lilith, first among the succubi, has been forced to seek shelter in the mind of Rachel Wainwright. Rachel is a successful attorney, but is also a woman with her own troubles. To regain the power necessary to move back into her own body, Althea undertakes a seduction from within, gently guiding Rachel towards a more sexual lifestyle, and reminding her of the power and the glory to be found in her own forgotten sensuality. Rachel finds herself responding to Althea's subtle hints, still unaware of the immortal being who is now sharing her body.

After seducing her intern at work, Rachel calls her ex-husband, Joshua, and attempts a reconciliation. They admit they still have feelings for each other, despite the conflicts in their personalities. And after years of fruitless struggle, Rachel begins to think the time has come to consider acceding to her children's wishes that they be allowed to choose their own career paths.

We rejoin the story on Sunday evening, two nights after Rachel's conversation with Josh.

*****

It was quiet in the hospital. Too quiet.

Doctors walked along the cool, florescent-lit hallways on silent feet, speaking to each other in low voices. Nurses at their stations leaned close, their conversations all but unheard. Janitors and support staff swept and mopped, cooked and cleaned, moving noiselessly from one room to the next. Even visitors spoke in hushed whispers, as if sickness and disease were malignant demons who would cast their unwelcome attention on them if they talked too loudly.

In one room in the Intensive Care Unit, a woman lay in a sleep so deep and dreamless it was all but indistinguishable from death. An eternity seemed to last between each slow rise and fall of her chest. The monitor which registered her heartbeats paused mockingly between each harsh beep. In her dark, silent sleep, her face held an unearthly calm, as if it was beyond all trouble and care.

An unbiased observer, which Yasna was not, would say that despite scrapes and bruises, this woman was incredibly attractive. Her golden skin was clear and firm over the sculpted bones of her face, her lips red and full, her attractively tousled hair long and curling, reaching far past her shoulders. Tall for a woman, her body was sweetly curved, with deftly carved thighs, full hips, and breasts that were lush and ripe for a lover's touch.

Yasna Marafi stood at the bedside and silently begged the woman to open her eyes. Ever since she had been brought in, three days before, she had been obsessed with her and the mysterious malady which ailed her. Her fingers itched for the touch of her skin, her lips burned for the feel of her mouth. She knew, deep in her secret heart, that with her eyes open and her face alive with wit and humor, the woman who her chart identified as Althea Carpenter would be gloriously, incredibly, incandescently beautiful. A beauty to make men and women throw themselves in her path for one smile from her lips, one touch from her hand, one word from her mouth. Despite every professional scruple, she ached to take her in her arms, to peel away the unflattering hospital gown and revel in the wonders of her body.

A voice spoke at her elbow, making her jump. No change, Doctor Marafi?

None, Doctor Webb, she replied with a sideways glance at her colleague, making her voice detached and clinical. "Heartbeat and respiration are very slow, but not life-threatening. No sign of any external trauma, except the cuts and bruises she got when she fell flat on her face on the sidewalk outside her home. The bloodwork is completely clean. No drugs, no unusual deficiencies.

We gave her a CAT scan yesterday. The vertebrae at the base of her spine are unusually thick, but no other abnormalities. She clenched her hands in impotent anger. "No concussion, no aneurysms, no blood clots, no signs of a stroke or a heart attack. I've set her up with an IV drip, so she doesn't starve or die of thirst while we wait for her to wake up.

"So what the hell is wrong with her? Yasna's voice was quietly furious. If she wasn't lying here in front of me, I would say the tests showed an abnormally healthy woman, not one who should be in a coma. You've been in this business a long time, Mike, she said. What do you think? Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

The older doctor frowned, his fingers drumming on his thigh. He shook his head and shrugged. The human body is strange, Yasna, he said. "I've been practicing for nearly forty years, and I see things that surprise me every day. I've seen people who look to be on their deathbeds recover and walk out the door. And I've seen people who look completely healthy die from raging fevers in the blink of an eye.

I would say to look for signs of some sort of viral or bacterial infection. See if you can find if she's been out of the country. She might have picked up a disease we're not familiar with. And she does have an elevated temperature, he said, glancing at her chart.

Yasna waved a dismissive hand. "A piddling two degrees. Nothing that would explain this. And if she had an infection of some sort, you would see other signs. Clammy skin, unusually high perspiration. A high white blood cell count, or...or something," she argued.

Dr. Webb spread his hands helplessly. You're probably right. But you asked me. I'm giving you my professional opinion. He laid a sympathetic hand on her thin shoulder. You know, Yasna, we're not perfect. We can't heal everybody. He smiled ruefully. "That's why we say we practice medicine."

Yasna snorted. You old fraud, she said. "You can't fool me. You hurt as much as