The Succubae Seduction: Chapters 15-19 - Sex Stories

The Succubae Seduction: Chapters 15-19

... isn’t fit for cutting wheat, but if you have a scythe I could borrow, I’ll see what I can do with that,” I tell him, before he can ask. He wouldn’t like the consequences if I pulled my blade out. He grunts again, and nods his head to the back of the shack. Heading back, I find a rusted scythe, and sigh. This is going to be a lot of work. The farmer has to teach me how to properly use the blade, but I catch on quickly enough, and get lost in the work. “Ho!” Thomas yells, thankfully pulling me from my thoughts. I’d been daydreaming about a strange orange carriage, winged women, and odd-looking houses. “Come, sit.” He shows me a plate of food, and I drop the scythe where I’m at, rushing to him. It’s probably poisoned, a voice says in my head, but I ignore it. Muramasa is always paranoid. The food is simple fair, roots soaked in a simple broth, but as famished as I am I devour it quickly. “You do good work,” Thomas says, as he surveys his field. “Would you consider staying on? I don’t have much, but I get by, and I can promise you’ll never go hungry.” I laugh lightly, patting the hilt of Muramasa. The older man tenses at the gesture, but relaxes when I speak. “I’m afraid I have a different destiny,” I tell him. “Maybe when I’m done with that, I’ll come back. There are worse ways to retire, than with a good honest job.” “A destiny, huh?” he asks me. “I don’t put much stock in those.” Kill him! Kill him now! I thump the hilt, willing Muramasa to shut up. “Normally I’d agree with ...

... you,” I say, laughing to cover the action with the blade, “but I feel as if I have little choice.” “Thomas!” someone yells in a panic, and we both stand to look in the direction the voice had come from. I realize my right hand is tightly wrapped around Muramasa’s hilt, and make a conscious effort to loosen my fingers. “Your daughter’s been kidnapped!” The old farmer begins to curse in earnest, spitting on the ground, before turning to the young boy that comes running up to us. “Who took her, Isaak?” For some weird reason, I can’t seem to make out any features on the boy’s face. It’s not that he doesn’t have one, just that I can’t seem to see it. “I don’t know, Thomas,” the young faceless boy states, trying to catch his breath. “He must have been some lord, though, because he was dressed all fancy, and had a couple guards. He took your daughter from the inn and rode off with her on a large black stallion.” The older man looks sharply at the boy. “Go home Isaak. Thank you for telling me.” He turns the boy around, and gives him a gentle shove. “Are you going to go get her, Thomas? I know she can be annoying sometimes, but she always treated me well enough.” There is genuine interest in the boys tone before he leaves. “Go home, Isaak,” the farmer repeats firmly, and the boy takes off running. “I don’t suppose you know how to use that blade on your hip, stranger?” he asks me, looking off in the direction the boy had come from. “Well enough, I suppose,” I tell him, and he only grunts ...