Three servings, that’s all it took.

The first would get you hooked, the second destroys your inhibitions and critical thinking skills, and the third wipes away any sense of individual will remaining.

Three strong servings, or vials, of Succubi poison, and you were no longer human, just a submissive and breedable slave for Redevers to enjoy.

It smelled surprisingly sweet, even in its watered down form, and tasted like licorice. It was fizzy against the tongue, like a carbonated beverage, and tingled down your throat. Tia Serrano knew that from experience, having been forced to drink it several years ago.

She was lucky, having only indulged the taste of one vial, before being rescued. Had she been given a second serving of that exquisite beverage, Tia would’ve likely ended up alongside the poor slave girl, who was sitting in front of her.

One could be rehabilitated if only ingesting the first sample, albeit, it took time, and a considerable effort. Tia had to drink a watered down version of the poison, until eventually weaning herself off of it completely.

Had she been forced to drink two vials during her short lived internment, Tia would’ve been sent to a clinic, where she could pray to the saint for salvation. There was little else that could be done. There was no curative, or even treatment after ingesting too much of the poison.

Tia Serrano looked down at the poor slave brought before her, a collar wrapped around her throat. The woman had rose colored skin, with stark purple nipples poking against the thin layer of silk fabric dangling down her engorged breasts. Silk stockings ran up her arms and legs, but outside of that, she was completely naked.

The leash of the slaves collar was held by a rather tall Redever man who smiled at Tia welcomely. As part of the peace treaty, their peoples were allowed to trade freely across their borders, but only if a portion of their goods were submitted as a tax. As military governor of Godechill Mount, it was Tia who got to be on the receiving end of that deal.

As military governor, Tia set up a special relationship with the slavers guild that traded through her occupation zone. With a coy smile, the Redever was here to make good on his delivery.

“Twenty vials, sub-grade Allucia, like you asked.” Allucia, that’s what they called it. Not poison, or breeding juice, or concubine potion. There were multiple other names given to it, all of which did it better justice.

“Allucia,” the word flowed from the tip of Tia’s tongue, and she hated how nice it sounded. She shot him a nod, “You know the rules, stray outside the line, and I’ll geld you.”

She meant it, Tia always lived up to her threats.

“I would never question the laws of Tia Serrano, murderess of the Bloody Winged Regiment,” he followed his statement with a bow. “I’ll be here for your next shipment in a month.”

Tia waved him away, trying hard not to take pity on the woman he dragged behind him.

“Always pleasure doing business with you,” the Redever said, leaving the room.

Tia leaned back in her lounge chair, looking down at the vials of purple fluids packaged in an open crate. She reached out, uncorked a bottle, and smelled its contents. The watered down version still sent tingles through her core. Her heart began to race, her breathing labored, as she brought the tip of the vial to her lips. She leaned it back, and all her taste buds rejoiced.

She didn’t want to swallow. The liquid was thick, and bubbly. The smell of it lit up her nostrils as she swished it around her gums. When Tia finally gulped it down, her throat contracted, before letting it flow to her stomach.

A warmth spread from her there to her limbs, tickling the hair between her legs, and making her nether lips soaking wet. Tia Serrano gasped a heavy sigh of relief, as the Allucia did its job. That insatiable itch, that unrelenting craving, finally ceased…for now.

A warm bead of sweat strolled down the woman's ample bosoms, her soft skin glistened in the auburn light. Tia Serrano rested her chin in the palm of her hand, her long brown hair flowing down past her broad shoulders, clearly against uniform regulation, but no one would ever challenge her on that.

No one challenged Tia Serrano, hero of the Thirteenth Redever War, and Colonel Commander of the Bloody Winged Regiment, made famous during the Fourteenth. Because of her, the Godechill Mount still stood under human control, making it the only tangible gain humans made during the last two wars.

The Godechill Mount was a solid block of granite with deep roots, its outer surface smoothed from the constant torrential blasts of wind. So grand, it was once home to the center of international trade between the Redevers and Human settlements. During the Thirteenth War it became the first major objective for Voxsturm’s armed forces to claim, and then it quickly became the lynchpin for additional assaults.

The mount was claimed, albeit at heinous losses. Like a rounded canker it rose from the wind blasted wasteland, a dark grey mound protruding from the flat surface. Once claimed, the people who had been living within the mined city were ‘encouraged to leave’, and a military bastion took its place.

The Fourteenth War had proved disastrous. The Redevers moved to retake their lost territory, and they were almost successful. The general leading their fourth grand army laid seige in the opening month of the war, but not before seizing all the sentries, and forcing them into breeding pens. Thousands were given the slave marks, fed Allucia, and subjugated.

As the entire war ground down to a ruthless battle of attrition, Tia Serrano was dispatched, with what little forces they had left in reserve, to hold Voxsturm’s only bastion beyond the canyon walls.

It was costly. Three months of constant bombardment, followed swiftly by wave after wave of assaults. Her fingers twitched at the memory. Their first commander died in those opening months, their second was scorched by a Redevers magi almost immediately after. The third disappeared during the chaos of the bloody offensive, his arms and legs were found hanging before the entrances of the underground tunnels.

Tia took command, being the only officer left, and managed the impossible. She avoided death. Her men fought for weeks, even after being cut off from the front lines, and fought without end until her motley band of soldiers became known as the Bloody Winged Regiment.

They fought on, until Voxsturm broke through Redever lines to relieve them, not out of duty, but out of necessity. Tia was fully aware of what fate was in store for her, should they be captured. Being bound and bred by some Redever swine wasn’t very appealing, so Tia resisted defeat with every ounce of her breath.

Ultimately she was captured, much to her regret, but not for long. She expected it might happen during some offensive, instead rogues infiltrated the base in the middle of the night, while she slept. She was nabbed, and dragged to Redever base camps hidden underneath the Mount. For two days she was whipped, and strangled for their amusement. They wanted to take their time, watching the fabled commander of the Bloody Winged Regiment break down under duress.

They eventually force fed her the strong aphrodisiacs of Allucia. Her world melted around her, new colors became visible, and entirely new sensations began to form. Just before they fed her a second vail, her men raided the Redever stronghold, and rescued her from a lifetime of depravity.

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When the Voxsturm regulars finally came, they expected to find a barren graveyard, its only living habitants Redever soldiers, or worse, broken human slaves. Instead they found her in command, with some fifty surviving guardsman. They wore blood soaked rags over their shoulders, which were quickly replaced by red painted capes drown over their left shoulder guards.

The broken bones of countless soldiers littered the landscape, the swirling clouds that descended from the skies collected them, creating winds of sharpened bone. To brave the slopes of Godekill Mount, was to illicit a grueling death. Even tacsuits and behemoths proved dangerous. Once bashed to pieces, the metal shrapnel only made the cyclonic winds even more lethal.

Despite all the bad memories, Godekill Mount did have an amazing view.

Tia adjusted herself in her couch, so that she could look outside. Her office was on the top floor of her bastion. Thick pane glass windows gave her a broad exterior view. A thick drape of wind churned the earth before her, the vortex easily two miles wide in diameter. Smaller daughter tornadoes sprouted from the mesocyclone above, curling and extending in gangly arches.

How anyone ever thought they could wage a war in a place like this, she could only imagine.

Far off into the distance, not too far away from the vortex, stood a Behemoth, the Redevers primary weapon of war. The giant bipedal machine stood nearly forty stories tall, with giant protruding cannons built into its shoulders. Slabs of iron and steel protected it from the worst of the wind, and somehow it stood even against the tempest swirling around it.

Should a Fifteenth Redever war ever start up, that war machine would unleash its furry. Its opening salvo would annihilate Tia’s outer defense, and likely shatter the underground roadway, and pipelines. She had long range artillery already sighted to respond, should the worst happen, but Tia doubted it would even dent its armored plating.

She shoved the grim thoughts aside. There was no point in worrying about things outside of her control. She didn’t know when the next war would happen. What she did know, however, was how happy it felt, not ending up as a breeding sow for some Redever slave pen. There were more than enough rancid half breeds out there, as is. She certainly didn’t want to populate the world with any more.

Tia scowled, if she had her way, she would’ve cleaned house long ago, slaughtering every Redever in the city of Voxsturm, and locking down the border. She wouldn’t only go after the dissidents, but even those Succubi who were loyal to the city during the war. She would take the scalps of every one of those creatures. The fact they still roamed the streets, freely, unnerved her.

Tia stood up. She was just over six feet tall, with bronze colored skin, and dark almond eyes. She had almost regal facial features, her cheeks were soft, and her chin elegant. Had it not been for the jagged scar down the right side of her face, she might’ve been considered beautiful. The woman's body had been sculpted from war, giving her a muscular frame over her feminine curves, and it was decorated with scars and blemishes.

As a Colonel Commander, she had the right to commission and customize her own uniform, and the uniforms of her soldiers. She could even design her own from scratch, if she desired. What she had put together was a form fitted cuirass armor plate that exposed the top portion of her chest, and a dark blue uniform to compliment it underneath. Shoulder pauldrons were decorative, etched in silver, and installed with golden tassels. Medals were pinned above her heart, and silver cufflinks matched the shoulder guards.

Her leather boots were designed with mid level heels, and extended up her legs. Two other trademark details were also added; a thin red sash that draped over her right shoulder, and a pair of Nightbane model pistols attached to her hip.

Tia popped her knuckles, her gloves masking her scarred hands. She had lost three fingers on her left hand, their absence was hidden by the gloves. With Allucia still in her veins, the relief of pressure to her joints were magnified ten fold.

Before she could really enjoy the synthetic high, a message popped up on her terminal, and was relayed to her ocular implants.

“Your son applied again for the expeditions,” the message was sent by the Dean of of the University of Voxsturm. A portly man with balding hair, and a rounded face, he somehow projected more authority than his appearance should allow.

Tia sighed, mentally framing her response, and verifying its accuracy, before sending. “I would appreciate it if his applications were rejected again, like last time.”

“Are you sure? He does exhibit—“

“Dean…” Even through the message links, her word cut through.

“Of course my apologies.”

“Thank you,” Tia ended the message. She strolled to her desk, carved from the very same granite of the Mount, and retrieved a thin cigar from a wooden box. She cut the tip of the stogie, brought it to her lips, and lit the other end. Drawing a long breath before exhaling, Tia savored the taste.

Staring out into the storm beyond the glass, Tia’s mind wandered, like the very winds of magic. To become a slave of the Redevers was to no longer know the soft touch of decent fabric on your skin, but instead to be stripped bare for the remainder of your life. Thin silk was your only comfort, and it only covered your legs and arms, with tiny strips that draped over your breasts, with nothing to secure them in the wind.

Once you drank the slaves intoxicants it didn’t matter. Your mind went to mush. Libido, serotonin, dopamine, all flooded your brains synapses, carrying some form of genetic viral infection that altered the brain chemistry. To go without sex for anything longer than twelve hours was to know excruciating pain, followed by a coma, if one fought the temptation long enough.

Unable to forgo sexual desire, their brain chemistry triggering their need for pleasure, the slave slowly lost the ability, or desire, to critically think for oneself. Instead, they followed their masters, and obeyed them for the remainder of their lives, which were short.

Most women died from some form of poor treatment after their third or fourth birth. A rare few lasted longer, becoming prized possessions that were highly coveted until their bodies gave out to old age. Then they would likely be discarded anyway.

Men who were enslaved were given the same aphrodisiac poison, and often used for pleasure by female Redevers. Most didn’t survive past a year. Either dying from exhaustion, or some stress induced illness, or simply forgotten once new toys were found. Tales of men being kept in pens, forgotten until they starved, were not uncommon.

With each Redever war, there was only one thing for certain, it was better to die than to be captured. Women might survive a short time, like she had, but even then recovery was difficult. When slaves were liberated, few could ever be returned to society.

And then there was the tragedy of of dealing with their unwanted offspring.

Human and Redevers always bred Redever children. If they had purple, blue, or dark red skin tones, they were often accepted by their own kinds society. Pink however, were given little regard. In nearly every instance they were cast out. Which was why when women, or even men in some cases, were liberated holding a pink horned child in their arms, they were not missed by the Succubi. When women were saved, only to give birth shortly after, their children were, by law, given residential status in Voxsturm, but rarely did their human families keep them.

Tia Serrano sighed, taking a seat behind her desk, and leaning back. She puffed on the cigar, until she had the energy to go through her daily reports. Her staff handled all the leg work, but it was still her job to review everything. She swiped her hand to open a holographic monitor, and gazed at the long list of communiques.

The hours drew by, the light pouring from outside slowly dwindled, and eventually Tia had enough.

She shifted her attention from the long list of daily logs, to her sons studies. She wondered how Theo was doing. Privately, she kept track of him. Logging into an administrative account on the Universities servers, she tracked through her sons whereabouts every day. Images from campus security cams populated her monitor, and she went through them quickly.

Something eventually caught her attention. It was small at first, barely avoiding her notice. Slowly, synapses started firing. Tia flipped through several pages of screen captures.

Her son in class, walking to the dorm, playing sports, going to the gym, drinking where he and his roommate obviously didn’t know were cameras, all of which seemed normal. More pictures flew by; Theo watching intramural sports, talking to someone at a gift shop, interacting with a damn vampire.

Tia scoffed. Of all the people her son could wander into, why a damn vampire. While she wasn’t fond of them, they didn’t reserve her anger the same way Redevers had.

No, what’s bugging me? Tia cursed silently.

Suddenly it clicked.

She noticed it in the very corner of a stilled image. A pink Redever girl looking at Theo from behind a pillar. Tia almost missed her entirely. She then studied the other images. One after another she noticed a slim whip last tail, or the whole body of that same girl somewhere in the background. Sometimes she would be in the bushes! At others, hiding almost out of view. In one image, Tia noticed a set of pink horns and jet black hair in a window, looking down at her son as he talked to a Lamia girl on the sidewalk.

In almost every picture of Theo, captured from security cams, Tia could see that same Redever girl hidden somewhere.

Was she watching him?

It seemed obvious.

Tia ground her teeth, utterly bewildered at what she was seeing.

I’m going to fucking kill her!