The first time she dropped to her knees and sucked his cock without permission—he let it slide. Barely. Her mouth was too good, her lips too desperate. When she locked her eyes on his and refused to pull away when he told her to, he came down her throat with a snarl and pulled her up by the hair after, breathing hard.
"Do that again," he'd warned, wiping her chin with his thumb, "and you won't get dick for weeks."
She smirked. Licked his thumb slow like she was tasting victory. "Then I'll just have to take it next time, won't I?"
Now it was week two.
Week two of no cock.
And she was losing her goddamn mind—or at least pretending to.
He was on the couch, legs spread, watching TV like he hadn't been hard every time she walked past. Like he didn't notice how she'd gone from seductive to strategic, brushing past him just close enough to tempt, just far enough to deny contact.
He noticed.
He was just waiting to see how far she'd go.
"Baby…" she cooed, climbing into his lap, panties already damp. Her hips rolled slow over his sweatpants bulge like it was instinct, but the gleam in her eye said otherwise. She was hunting.
He grabbed her hips and held her still. "What part of your punishment don't you understand?"
She pouted, nails slipping under his hoodie, grazing heat. "I understand. I just think you're being soft."
He blinked. "Soft?"
"If you really wanted to break me, you wouldn't let me sit in your lap. You wouldn't let me breathe your scent. You'd lock me up and make me beg from behind a door."
He narrowed his eyes.
"But you haven't," she whispered against his jaw. "Because you like when I squirm. You like when I act like a needy little slut and you get to pretend you're still in control."
His grip tightened.
"Careful," he said darkly.
"Why?" she smiled. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
He leaned back, gaze raking her. "You're playing a game you'll lose."
"Maybe," she breathed. "Or maybe you like that I'm not just some cumdump on her knees. Maybe you like when I make you want to break your own rules."
His jaw flexed. She felt the twitch beneath her.
"You miss it too," she whispered. "You miss how I take it. How I hold still when you push too deep. How I whimper when you choke me and still ask for more."
"And you're wet," he growled.
"Always," she admitted. "Since you denied me. And you know what? I almost touched myself last night. Almost. But I didn't."
"Why?"
"Because I want to feel it all at once. Your fingers, your cock, your hands on my throat. I want to drown in you."
He grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at him.
"Say that again."
"I want to drown in you."
He stared at her, conflicted, heat rising. There was power in this—too much. He used to fantasize about control. Now he had it, and the weight of it clawed under his skin. She wasn't just a succubus. She was a trigger—his trigger. And every time he gave in, he felt himself slipping further into something monstrous.
And worse—he liked it.
"You like being a little cumdrunk brat, don't you?"
"I like making you need to use me," she corrected.
He exhaled sharply.
"You love being punished."
"Only by you."
"You love being used."
She smiled. "I love when you forget you're still pretending to be human."
His cock pulsed. She felt it. She rolled her hips once more.
"Please," she whispered. "Command me. Fuck me stupid. Fill me until I forget where I am."
He held her by the throat again, tighter. She moaned as her eyes rolled slightly back.
"Too bad," he rasped. "Brats don't get what they want."
She whimpered, but that same wicked smile curved her lips. She wasn't broken—just biding her time.
He leaned in, voice a growl. "Now crawl off my lap like a good girl, and go put your plug in. Since you like being stretched so much—keep that pussy aching for me."
"You want me aching and ready… in case you need to use me in a hurry?"
"Exactly."
Her legs shook when she climbed off his lap. But her eyes never left his.
This wasn't surrender. This was strategy.
And she was going to make him break—even if it meant dragging him down with her.