Succubus 3 (The Good The Bad And The Crazy Stupid Hot): A LitRPG Series Read online

  SUCCUBUS 3

  The Good The Bad And The Crazy Stupid Hot

  A LitRPG Series

  A.J. Markam

  Copyright 2018 A.J. Markam

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  Other Books by A.J. Markam

  SUCCUBUS

  SUCCUBUS 2: Hell To Pay

  DEAD MAN GAMING

  LitRPG - a safecracker has to infiltrate the Russian mob, who are posing as a bunch of orcs in a virtual reality video game.

  OPERATION ZODIAC

  Sci-fi - elite American military group uses bleeding edge tech to fight the wars of tomorrow.

  1

  You ever heard the expression ‘too much of a good thing’?

  Normally it’s one of those sayings you scoff at. There’s this meme of a really hot woman with large breasts, and the caption underneath it is, Whoever said ‘More than a handful is wasted’ was either gay or stupid.

  (For the record, I don’t think gay guys would say that either, so long as it’s a handful of something other than boob.)

  But if you’d told me that I would ever say ‘too much sex is a bad thing,’ I’d have laughed you out of town. Especially considering my pitifully small number of past romantic relationships. In most of them, I was lucky to have sex more than once a week.

  And then I met Alaria.

  She was a succubus in a virtual reality videogame – so, technically not real.

  Okay, not even ‘technically.’

  NOT real.

  Fine. Whatever.

  Didn’t matter, because she felt real to me. Real enough that I fell in love with her.

  I was her Warlock – a magician who summons demons to fight for him in the videogame I was QCing. After a tumultuous beginning, I agreed to help her take revenge on nine former ex-masters, and eventually wound up giving her her freedom.

  She fell in love with me, too, and we went off and had more adventures. Pirates in a flying airship, nymphomaniac frost elves, that sort of thing.

  And then we settled into a kind-of, sort-of relationship. I say ‘kind-of, sort-of’ because she hates the ‘R word.’

  Things were going great – until suddenly they weren’t.

  Because damn that girl likes to fuck.

  But not just me.

  And that was the problem.

  2

  After our showdown with the warlock Saykir in the Northern Wastes, we spent another week in the kingdom of the frost elves.

  I had the time of my life.

  Between passionate sex with Alaria, threesomes with the beautiful priestess Eluun, and some crazy orgies with Alaria and up to 20 female frost elves at one time, I never wanted to leave.

  Unfortunately, we had to. Because of Revenge.

  No, not Alaria’s private quest for vengeance (although there was that, too). The Revenge was a pirate ship that belonged to a demon named Krug whom I’d freed. He’d sacrificed his ship to come save me and Alaria, and the frost elves were helping to repair it.

  Except they weren’t any good at repairs.

  Which was understandable when you lived in a kingdom where virtually everything was carved out of ice.

  The elves and pirate crew did their best, but in the end Krug realized there wasn’t going to be any way to get the ship airborne. However, it would still be seaworthy if we could only get it to the ocean.

  So we basically moved it across ten miles of Arctic ice.

  There’s this old film director named Werner Herzog who did a film called Fitzcarraldo. It’s about a rich guy in South America who hires a bunch of indigenous people to move a 340-ton steamboat across a mountain. Apparently it’s based on a true story, although the real-life guy was smart enough to disassemble the freaking thing rather than move it all at once.

  But not Werner. Unh-unh. He had his crew actually transport a 340-ton ship across the mountain, all in one piece.

  This is the same Werner Herzog who pulled a gun on his lead actor Klaus Kinski (who was an insane bastard himself) and threatened to kill him if he walked off a movie set. That should tell you a lot.

  In the end, we decided to follow Werner’s lead. (With the ship – not the gun.) We moved the Revenge via force fields cast by Mages, and rolled it over circular pillars of ice crafted by ice goblins.

  After it was all over, I understood why ol’ Werner might have wanted to pull a gun on somebody. But we still managed to put the ship back in the ocean without it sinking.

  After picking up some quest items I was owed in a fishing village, and after many heartfelt goodbyes with Eluun and the frost elves, we sailed fifteen days to the nearest port city of Exardus.

  Exardus was a brand new experience, I can tell you that. It looked like somebody crossed Angkor Watt and the skyscrapers of Manhattan, but carved everything out of ivory. Everywhere you looked, gleaming white buildings soared 20 stories into the air.

  The city was one of the richest on the continent, but beneath the polished façade was a teeming underbelly of villainy and scum. (We’ll get to that part shortly.)

  The important thing about Exardus was that it was one of the greatest shipyards in all of OtherWorld, famed for their craftsmanship and repairs.

  It was also a decidedly amoral city. Meaning as long as you had the money, they didn’t care – they would do business with anybody. Including a bunch of demon pirates.

  Which is how Krug, my imp Stig, and I found ourselves sitting across a desk from Varkus Gark, the head of the Shipwrights Guild.

  Varkus looked like the Monopoly Guy. You know, on the old board games? Bald head, monocle, fancy suit, and only three feet tall. He was also unpleasantly fat – almost as big across as he was tall.

  The only major difference between him and the Monopoly Guy was that Varkus was a goblin, and therefore green and warty.

  Krug was the polar opposite – a gigantic grey demon, ten feet tall, with a lantern jaw, a chest like a barrel, and biceps big as Butterball turkeys.

  Stig was closer to Varkus’s end of the scale: two feet tall, thin, like Yoda’s anorexic grey cousin. I made him come along because if I left him alone on the Revenge, he would have drunk himself into a stupor.

  We were all sitting in a sumptuous, wood-paneled office that looked out over the bustling shipyards of Exardus. Judging from the office décor, the Shipwrights Guild apparently made bank.

  “You were wise to come to me,” Varkus said. “Fortunately for you, my men are the best in all of Exardus. Unfortunately for you, the repairs to your ship will be quite expensive. My foreman says that the engines’ turbine system will need to be entirely overhauled.”

  I could feel Krug getting agitated in the seat next to me. “How much?”

  “Four thousand gold.”

  I almost choked. Four thousand gold was a pretty significant sum, especially at my current Level 14 Warlock status.

  And I was on the hook for all of it.

  Because Krug had sacrificed his ship to come save me and Alaria, I had agreed to do whatever was necessary to make it right. And by that standard, 4000 gold was absolutely a bargain. I could have lost Alaria to the Old Gods that Saykir had summoned and never seen her again. I would have given up everything I owned in the real world to make sure that didn’t happen, so 4000 gold was nothing.

  And yet… it was still a lot of money.

  Krug looked over at me.

  “I’ll handle it,” I promised him.

  “You better,” he grumbled.

  “I can extend you credit, of course, but the amount will ha
ve to be repaid,” Varkus said with a faint smile.

  Then he slid a piece of parchment across the desk. The three-foot-long document was filled with near-microscopic text, all hand-written in looping script.

  “There’s a great deal of fine print. You’re welcome to read it if you want, but the long and short of it is that I’ll loan you 4000 gold with weekly repayment installments due beginning a week after the repairs are finished. If you don’t repay it, well… I’ll be forced to make an example out of you.”

  Oh – did I mention that the Shipwrights Guild was basically Exardus’s version of the Mob? And that Varkus was reputed to be both Don Corleone and Jabba the Hutt all rolled into one?

  So when he said ‘make an example out of you,’ we all knew what he meant.

  A computer window popped up with a quest item.

  That’s Some Docked Up Repugnant Ship

  Cute. A Pulp Fiction reference.

  Sign for the loan from Varkus the Goblin to get the Revenge flying again.

  XP: 2000

  Cost: 4000 gold

  Lovely. A quest I had to pay dearly for, with little to be had in return.

  Sort of like my college degree.

  “I’ll sign for the loan,” I sighed. “It’s my responsibility, I’ll cover it.”

  “That’s a lot of booze, boss,” Stig said warily.

  “Well, at least we’re still around to drink it.”

  I picked up the quill that Varkus proffered and scribbled my signature on the parchment.

  I was distracted by the golden ‘2000 XP’ that shimmered through the air. I didn’t see what Varkus was doing until it was too late.

  The goblin leaned over and slammed some kind of a rubber stamp on my right hand. A brief pain seared my skin, leaving behind a shimmering gold seal that gradually faded from view.

  “OW!” I yelled. “What the HELL?!”

  “A Seal of Adjudication,” Varkus said matter-of-factly. “It magically binds you to the legal agreement until all payments are made. Just a formality.”

  “You might have warned me,” I snapped.

  “I thought you knew. It’s standard in all legal contracts in Exardus.” The goblin smiled nastily. “To make sure you repay.”

  “If I don’t, then what – you drag me to prison?”

  “No. As I said, we make an example out of you,” Varkus said, and pointed at a miniscule line on the contract.

  Clause 57: Torture and Assassination for Non-Payment.

  Jesus. I guess I should have read the fine print.

  I’d never signed a contract with a ‘Torture and Assassination for Non-Payment’ clause – although it sure felt like my student loans had one in there somewhere.

  “The seal can’t be broken until the payment is made in full,” Varkus explained. “And it will allow us to find you no matter where you might hide.”

  “I’m not going to hide,” I protested.

  “I hope not, for your sake. Alright, that concludes our business. I’ll get my best crew to work on your ship. The repairs should be done within two weeks’ time.”

  “Two weeks?!” Krug roared.

  “If you would prefer one week, we could put two crews on it for 8000 gold,” Varkus suggested.

  “Two weeks will be fine – thank you,” I said, hustling Krug out of the room as fast as I could.

  As we walked back along the docks to the ship, Krug was dour and silent. Despite all signs being decidedly negative, I decided to ask the favor I’d been mulling over.

  “Um… look… do you think maybe you could front me the gold so I don’t have to be in hock to that guy?”

  “NO.”

  “Just a temporary loan – ”

  “NO.”

  “Why not?!”

  “I’m a pirate. Pirates don’t GIVE loans.”

  “Yeah, but – ”

  “I don’t even have it onboard. It’s all buried on distant islands. We’d have to sail for days just to dig up one chest.”

  “That’s a great idea!”

  “NO. We saved you from Saykir. That’s enough.”

  “You know, technically, I gave you your freedom – ”

  “You sold us our freedom for five more journeys around the globe.”

  “That was Alaria’s doing.”

  “You went along with it,” Krug said accusatorily.

  “Yeah, but – ”

  “NO GOLD.”

  Great.

  We reached the Revenge and walked up to the deck along a plank. To save money, everyone had been sleeping onboard – although I didn’t know how well that would work once the repairs began.

  Once they’d reached land, the entire pirate crew turned into a nocturnal species, with lots of drinking and gambling and carousing until the sun came up. Either they were going to have to limit their excesses to the daytime while the repair crews worked, and sleep at night like normal people… or they were going to have to go into full-on, 24/7 party monster mode.

  If Stig had anything to say about it, I’m sure he’d advocate for the 24/7 option.

  Once onboard, Krug walked off to talk to some crew members. Stig and I continued down to the captain’s quarters – although actually they were now Alaria’s and my quarters. Krug was apparently happy with his old first-mate room, so we’d taken up residence. (Stig didn’t need quarters, he just needed a bottle of rum.)

  The former captain, Tarka the hot MILF, still resided in a storage room with magical stocks on her hands and neck that prevented her from using her warlock powers. Alaria and I took her out every once in a while to… ahem… ‘play.’

  Once below decks, Stig and I passed by my other demon Dorp, who was meditating in the common area. He had a ball gag in his mouth, which the high priestess Eluun had told him was a magical artifact that would allow him to communicate telepathically with elves everywhere. Which he was trying to do so he could sing my praises worldwide.

  I felt bad about lying to him, but it was the only thing that would shut him up.

  “Mm mmtm,” he said as Stig and I walked by.

  “Hey Dorp,” I said.

  “Mm mmm-tm mm mrm mm – ”

  “Keep at it, buddy!” I said, and gave him a thumbs-up.

  Dorp returned the gesture and went back to meditating.

  One more bullet dodged.

  Unlike my massive debt load.

  “This is messed up,” I grumbled to Stig.

  “Messed up,” he agreed.

  “Do you know how long it’s going to take me to earn 4000 in gold?! I’m going to be in Exardus forever!”

  “Forever,” Stig nodded.

  “And if I don’t pay, I’m going to get murdered!”

  “Murdered.”

  I stopped and looked at him. “Are you even listening?”

  “Listening.”

  “No you’re not – you’re just repeating the last thing I say!”

  “Sssss…”

  He was about to repeat ‘Say,’ but realized it was the wrong reaction.

  “Why are you just repeating everything?” I asked.

  “…so I could sound like I was listening?” he said hesitantly.

  “Why were you doing that?!”

  “Because you’re boring.”

  “I am NOT boring!”

  “Yes you are,” Stig said, obviously glad to be free of the burden of pretending to be polite. “Same thing, over and over – complain, complain. You’re almost as bad as Dorp.”

  I gasped. “You take that back!”

  He thought for a second. “I take it back.”

  “Good.”

  “Dorp has the ball gag now, so you’re worse.”

  “WHAT?! That’s not cool, man!”

  “Neither are you,” Stig said mildly, like we were just discussing the weather.

  “Well, sorry I’m not some drunk pirate who – ”

  I was interrupted by a piercing female scream coming from the rear of the ship.

  My eyes bugged out
in fear.

  Alaria!

  Did Tarka get free and attack her?

  Or did someone else break in?

  I sprinted through the hall and swung open the door to the captain’s quarters –

  And found my succubus with her face between the open legs of a gorgeous dryad.

  Who was still screaming because she was coming.

  Loudly.

  In OtherWorld, dryads are forest nymphs and exclusively female. They’re human in form, with pale green skin and dark green hair. They usually wear bikinis made of leaves and vines.

  This one wasn’t wearing anything.

  She was sitting on the massive desk in the captain’s office, which was right outside the bedroom where Alaria and I slept. The dryad’s upper body was tilted back and her arms were stretched out behind her on the desktop, giving me a full view of her nubile charms.

  Apparently this had been their latest stop, because I could see Alaria’s boots, thong, and bra strewn across the floor in the other room, along with scraps of the dryad’s clothing.

  I stood there in the doorway in silent shock.

  As the dryad’s screams finally died down into heavy panting, Alaria withdrew her face from the other woman’s crotch and peered up at me happily. “Hi, honey!”

  Stig peeked around my legs. “Awkward…”

  “What are you doing?!” I asked in shock.

  Alaria gave me an Are you stupid? look. “What does it look like?”

  I glanced down at the desktop and the dryad’s bare ass sitting on it. “People work there, you know!”

  “You don’t,” Alaria said.

  “I – ”

  Okay, she was right.

  So I ignored that part.

  “I thought we agreed – ”

  “No men,” Alaria said as she stood up, her bare breasts swaying back and forth. “Xenia’s female.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I said, glancing at the dryad’s bare breasts – which were quite nice, incidentally. B-cups, firm and perky, with dark green areolas. Tight little body, thin arms –