A ThreeTrilogy BDSM Bundle by Jon Zelig

Author:Jon Zelig [Zelig, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica
Publisher: Pink Flamingo Media
Published: 2018-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

Punishment Incorporated, Book II:

Mistress Judy’s Journey

Why must I lie beneath you? I also was made from dust, and am therefore your equal.

—Lilith

Prologue

Adam was expelled from the Garden of Eden.

Mother Lilith left of her own accord, enraged at the role she had been assigned, at the very idea that she should be considered as—treated as—less than. For this “sin,” she was cursed for all eternity.

Does that sound fair?

Mother was not seeking power.

She was seeking simple justice—and would accept nothing less.

Yes: She became angry.

Yes: She became a stalker and seductress of men.

Yes: We, The Succubi, her daughters, forever damned as well, carry on in Mother’s tradition, invading the dreams of men, entangling them in webs of sensuality, mating with them when we wish, using their lust to tap and drain their pride and their power, on which we feed—always and only as they lie beneath us.

Perhaps it remains a crime; but, is it sin when the hungry steal a loaf of bread?

How then can it be demonic when women take what we both deserve and need?

In the case of myself and my Sisters, this need is neither a matter of lust nor of love. By our very nature, we feed on the energy of men, depending on it for our basic survival.

Denied equality, Mother Lilith took instead the path of dominance—bequeathing that power to we who have followed, as well.

And, yes, from what we must do, we take—we drink down; we suck up—pleasure, both physical and spiritual, as well as sustenance.

To sit astride and look down on a man rendered blind with lust, to orchestrate his final pleasure, to watch the phases of recognition and understanding flash across his features—always too late, always futile, that tender terror, that abject surrender—the light in his eyes first fiery then snuffed, to feel that last scald of his seed, as I rhythmically clench and milk him with that most powerful muscle in my body, my womb a hungry and powerful pump, voraciously draining him, my climaxes sometimes strong enough to trigger thunder and lightning, that is to live fully and without limits.

But after centuries of feeding in this fashion, gloriously and well, I have grown, if not quite sympathetic—men, after all, remain impossible to understand; the idea of actually loving one of them seems unlikely at best—I have grown somewhat weary, taking the energy that I need, taking less and less pleasure from that endless snuffing-of-the-light.

And so, I have been searching for … another path.

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