The bathroom was wrapped in steam, the air warm and heavy with quiet echoes of water. The soft rhythm of droplets tapping against porcelain filled the silence, a gentle, almost hypnotic sound.
She lay back in the bathtub, eyes half-closed, letting the warmth surround her.
SPLASH!
The bathwater, once steaming, was now merely lukewarm, lapped at her skin. Her legs, long and pale, stretched out before her, knees slightly bent, a small island of flesh rising above the surface.
She dipped her right hand beneath the water, fingers splaying, then curling. Her index finger, slender and knowing, found its way. It traced the slick, wet folds, a feather-light touch, tentative at first. A slow circle, then another, the gentle pressure building. Her breath hitched, a faint sound swallowed by the quiet bathroom.
The rhythm shifted. Her finger moved faster, the circles tightening, pressing inward, seeking that pulsating nub.
A low moan escaped — a soft, involuntary sound that vibrated in the humid air.
Her hips lifted slightly from the porcelain—a silent invitation to the unseen. Her head tilted back, dark blue hair fanning across the rim of the tub, eyes closed, a flush spreading across her collarbones.
The water around her began to ripple more vigorously, disturbed by the increasing tempo of her hand. Her clit, now engorged, throbbed under the relentless friction.
Her breath grew shallow and ragged.
Another moan, louder this time, a guttural hum of pure sensation.
Her jaw clenched, muscles in her neck taut. The world narrowed to the intense point between her legs, a blinding, all-consuming fire.
Then she stopped.
Her hand went still, resting against her inner thigh. Her eyes snapped open, the emerald irises glinting with a sharp, almost frustrated clarity.
She pushed herself up, water sluicing down her bare skin, creating rivulets that snaked over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs.
Each drop clung to her, a glistening jewel highlighting the curves of her body.
She ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing the dark blue strands back from her face, then settled one arm on her hip, water beading on her elbow.
"This ain't working," she stated, her voice a low murmur, more a declaration to herself than an actual complaint.
Her gaze lifted.
"Open status."
A blue screen appeared before her..
[ Name: Riana Li ]
[ Age: 39 ]
[ Class: Supreme Knight]
[ Status: HORNY ( Cursed by the SUCCUBUS QUEEN)]
[ Title: Vice Chancellor ]
[ Level: 769]
[ Strength: 88]
[ Agility: 91]
[ Stamina: 200 ( Amplified by the SUCCUBUS QUEEN'S curse)]
[ Force: 180 ]
[ Health: 100 ]
Riana Li was the Vice Chancellor, a figure of authority defined by her position and name alone. However, due to recent incidents, her fate had taken a dark turn. She had been cursed by the Succubus Queen.
The curse marked a change in her circumstances, binding her to something beyond her control.
"Damn you, Succubus Queen!" Riana Li shouted.
She stepped out, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the cool tile.
The air, crisp against her damp skin, offered a brief, sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of the tub.
Her gaze drifted to the frosted glass of the shower.
A new thought, a different kind of hunger, began to stir within her, deeper than the fleeting physical release she had just abandoned.
This was a craving that reached beyond her own touch, a void demanding to be filled by another.
The sound of a key turning in the lock downstairs, a faint click, echoed through the quiet apartment.
A slow smile, predatory and knowing, curved her lips
"Good," she whispered, her voice laced with anticipation.
"You're finally home."
Riana Li's husband, the head of the tower's security department, already knew about her curse.
"Riana, baby, where are you?" He asked, loosening his tie with one hand, the silk falling onto the already rumpled collar of his shirt.
A faint click echoed from upstairs. His eyes lifted toward the landing. Steam, a soft cloud, preceded her. Riana emerged, framed by the bathroom doorway, a vision of flushed skin and damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Water beaded on her collarbone, catching the dim light.
She met his gaze, a slow smile spreading across her lips. Her finger, a delicate curve, beckoned him upward.
She was naked, her skin still glistening from the shower, and a wisp of steam curled around her bare shoulders.
She didn't speak, just lifted a single finger, beckoning him closer.
He didn't hesitate. He kicked off his shoes, the sound muffled by the thick rug, and ripped at the buttons of his shirt. He discarded it carelessly on the floor, followed by his belt and trousers. A primal urgency consumed him, eclipsing the exhaustion of the day. He moved toward her, drawn by an invisible force.
Inside the bathroom, the air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and her. He reached for her, his hands tracing the curve of her waist, the delicate arch of her back.
Her skin was warm and soft beneath his touch.
Their lips met in a desperate, hungry kiss.
It wasn't gentle or tentative; it was a claiming, a reaffirmation of their bond.
He tasted the residue of her shower gel, the sweetness of her skin. He pulled her closer, molding her body against his, feeling the electric shock of their connection.
"I was missing you," she whispered against his lips, her voice husky and breathy.
"You're finally here."
"Of course," he said, his tone soft but certain. "How could I leave my lovely wife all alone?"
"And besides," he added with a faint hint of amusement, "This special treat is only for me to enjoy.."
During his working hours, he came to her regularly. Again and again, he made time to stand by her side, balancing his duties with quiet consistency—and even enjoying it. Sometimes, he even thanked the Succubus Queen for the curse.
Inside the shower room.
The spray hit her back first, then slid down her curves, tracing the line of her spine before pooling at her feet. Steam bloomed around them, thick and sweet with the scent of jasmine soap.
Her fingers, long and elegant, raked through the dark blue cascade of her hair, pushing it back from a face that defied the years.
Each movement was fluid, deliberate, a dance of anticipation.
"You like that, hmm?" His voice, a low rumble, vibrated against her ear as he pressed closer, his chest a warm wall against her back.
A shiver, not of cold, but of something deeper, coursed through her.
"What do you think?" A soft laugh escaped her lips, a sound like wind chimes in the rising mist.
She leaned into him, her hips nestling perfectly against his, feeling the hard ridge of his erection press into her.
The water streamed down her face, mingling with the beads of sweat already forming on her brow.
He captured her neck, his thumb stroking the pulse point beneath her jaw.
"I think you're playing coy."
"Am I?" Her head tilted back, meeting his gaze.
Her eyes, the color of emerald green, held a mischievous glint.
She twisted slightly, rubbing her ample bottom against his groin, a deliberate friction that drew a sharp intake of breath from him.
"You know what you do to me."
His hands slid down her sides, cupping her full breasts. They were firm, defying gravity, the nipples already hard nubs under his touch. He teased them, rolling them between his fingers, eliciting a low moan from her.
"Tell me," she urged, her voice a husky whisper, her hips grinding back against him with more force. The water sluiced over them, an eager accomplice to their rising heat.
"You always make me lose my mind."
His mouth found the sensitive skin behind her ear, tasting the water, the jasmine, and something uniquely her. A deep growl vibrated in his throat. His fingers spread wide across her chest, feeling the weight and swing of her breasts with each subtle shift of her body.
She arched her back, pressing her hips harder into his, seeking the entrance she craned.
"Then lose it."
With a guttural sound, he lifted her slightly, positioning her, and then plunged into her wet depths. A gasp tore from her lips, a mixture of shock and pure pleasure. He filled her completely, the sudden invasion a delicious jolt. Her muscles clenched around him, milking him, drawing him deeper still.
The rhythm began, slow and deliberate at first, then building, each thrust pushing her forward, then pulling her back.
The spray from the shower head intensified the sensation, a thousand tiny needles prickling her skin.
As he pounded into her from behind, her dark blue hair, now slick with water, danced around her shoulders.
Her breasts, heavy and full, swung wildly with each powerful stroke, a mesmerizing pendulum against her chest.
The air in the shower thickened, heavy with their scent, with the primal sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wet, shlicking sound of their bodies intertwining.
"Oh, yes," she breathed, her voice ragged, her head thrown back, exposing the delicate line of her throat.
"That's it."
His hips slammed into her, again and again, a relentless rhythm.
Her body responded, clenching, tightening, drawing him deeper with every thrust.
A low, guttural moan escaped her lips, echoing off the tiled walls. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure building within her, threatening to consume her entirely.
The water continued to cascade, washing over them, cleansing and inflaming all at once.
Her nails dug into his forearms, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin, a testament to the intensity of her climax building.
Her orgasm hit like a storm, pussy spasming as she cried out, juices soaking him. The sight triggered his release; he buried deep, groaning as hot cum flooded her, bodies trembling together.
They clung, panting under the water, his seed trickling down her thigh.
Slowly, he eased out, watching his release trickle down her thigh, mingling with the suds. He pressed a softer kiss to her forehead.
ZZZTT!
//Telepathy from Ricardo
"Riana… are you there?"
Ricardo's voice slipped into her mind, calm and unyielding.
"Yes, Chancellor… I'm here," she answered, her thoughts slightly uneven, her breath still heavy.
A brief pause followed, as if he could feel it too.
"You're out of breath. Are you at the training ground?"
"No."
The reply came too quickly—sharp, almost defensive.
"…Never mind. Come to the twenty-second floor. There's something—"
"Yes, Chancellor. I will be there in a minute."
__________________
At the same time
RING! RING!
Riana's husband's phone rang sharply.
He answered . "Hello."
"Sir, return immediately," came the urgent voice of the security guard.
"I'm on my way."
He exhaled, tension settling into his shoulders.
"Dear, I'm sorry—I have to go," he called out, already moving.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and hurried out.
Riana stepped beneath the shower, letting the water cascade over her in a brief, hurried calm. Steam curled around her as she closed her eyes for a fleeting second, then reached for the tap and turned it off.
She moved quickly—drying, dressing with practiced ease, every motion sharp with purpose. Fabric settled against her skin as she fastened the last detail.
Without another pause, she turned and strode out, her footsteps echoing with urgency as she made her way toward the twenty-second floor.