Albedo was in high spirits that morning. Nabe's special training was over, freeing her to enjoy a delicious meal without worrying about schedules. A special feast awaited at day's end—a reward worth celebrating. Unlike last time, it wasn't a holiday, but as the capable Albedo, carving out a few hours was no issue.
Some might cram new tasks into that time, even using 10th-tier magic like Time Stop to stretch a day to 30 hours. Once, Ainz-sama, moved by a subordinate's zealous 30-hour workdays, tearfully pleaded, "Enough…! Rest…! Rest!" His compassionate order sent waves of awe and tears through Nazarick's ranks.
It began there.
Before Operation Gehenna in the royal capital, a princess hiding her cunning caught attention. Deemed worth conversing with, the task fell to Albedo, whose strategist was on forced leave. The princess's intellect was decent for a human, but Albedo's focus drifted to an indescribable fragrance. Likely, the princess had bathed for their meeting, but Albedo's succubus senses weren't fooled.
A masculine scent. Not hers. Whose?
She probed, found the man, healed his burns, and secured his loyalty.
"Would you like a drink?" the man asks.
"Prepare something suitable," Albedo replies.
"Understood."
In E-Rantel's mansion dining room, dim light bathes Albedo and the man. She lounges on a cushioned bench, backless to accommodate her black wings. He serves deftly, pouring clear liquid from bottles, squeezing a yellow fruit, and stirring with a slender spoon.
Albedo sips the offered glass. "Thin, simple taste. Not bad."
"Honored," he replies.
Nazarick's divine liquors spoil her palate; no worldly drink compares. This cocktail, crafted from meticulously distilled estate spirits, prioritizes pure flavors. A rag in the bottle could turn it into a Molotov.
After three sips, Albedo muses that building anticipation isn't bad. She craves the meal after days apart but wants to savor it slowly. Today's for lingering, hence the carved-out time.
The delay was Ainz-sama's order—Nabe kept the man occupied. Unavoidable. But the five-day gap before that was Albedo's doing: self-loathing, shame, and identity crisis.
As a succubus, her meal is essence, taken orally. Watching Solution drink "man-milk" elsewhere made Albedo question herself. Why hadn't she used her other "mouth"? The proper succubus way through intimacy felt neglected, sparking shame.
Succubi lack chastity. A succubus preaching modesty is like a mole, born and bred underground, raving about flying to mountains. Absurd. A succubus with chastity isn't a succubus. Albedo is a succubus.
Still, she has standards. No indiscriminate feasting.
But she found a delicious man.
Setting the half-empty glass aside, she says, "Sit beside me."
"This is what I meant," Albedo says, closing the gap on the bench.
He hesitates, mindful of her wings, but she spreads them, tucking him close. Their shoulders and thighs touch.
"Oh, I spilled my drink. Wasteful. Drink it," she commands.
"Understood."
She lifts her breasts, creating a deep valley, and pours the liquor there. Not a drop escapes her grip. "No slurping. Lick it."
"Yes."
His face buries in her chest, lapping sounds echoing. Half the glass was hers; the rest vanishes quickly. Yet he lingers, licking her skin. Her hand cradles his head, urging him on wordlessly. Her other hand strokes his silver hair, evoking her long-absent sister.
"My breasts are that enticing?" she teases.
No words, just fervent sucking and a hand slipping under her dress. He kneads her breasts, fingers grazing her nipples, which harden, straining against the fabric. She lowers her dress, revealing swollen, red nipples.
"Oh, my poor nipples, so swollen. Heal them with your tongue. Ahh♡."
He licks. Her nipples, slick, gleam. "Kissing them so much… that tasty?"
"Of course! No nipples rival Albedo-sama's!"
"Then indulge all you want♡."
She holds his head gently, stroking his hair. As her grip eases, he moves to her lips, swapping saliva, tongues dancing.
My nipples tingle. My stomach flutters, womb aching. Why did I only take it orally? I should've used my pussy. He's rock-hard but won't enter me, though he did with that childish girl. Her immature pussy can't compare. My pussy will devour him. He's so hard from my breasts. He wants me to take him, and my pussy's starving♡.
"Time to eat," she declares.
"Understood."
"Oh?"
He lifts her effortlessly by her knees and back.
"Stronger than you look," she notes.
She's tall for a woman but weighs as she appears. Easy for a fit man, unlike her full armor.
"I train to serve you," he says.
"Good boy."
She kisses his cheek. Had he downplayed his strength, memories of a certain vampire's taunts would've soured her mood, leading to brutal extraction via secret techniques. But no such misstep.
She parts the canopy's veil, entering a secluded world. He lays her on the bed, her wings unburdened—battle-axe-proof, a trivial detail.
"Undress me," she orders.
"Yes."
He lifts her dress. She raises her arms, and it slips off, revealing her divine form. Her breasts, soft yet firm, adorned with perfect nipples. He swallows hard.
"I said undress me," she purrs, sucking a finger, dripping saliva onto her nipple, kneading her breast.
His hands move to her skirt. She lifts her hips, and it slides off, revealing glossy black panties with delicate embroidery.
"Those too," she says.
"…Yes."
She closes her legs, lifts her hips, and the warm, damp panties slide off. Fully bare, she spreads her legs, exposing everything.
"Well? Is my pussy… pretty?"
He nods dumbly, eyes glued.
He'd be embarrassed to know it's an unused succubus pussy, but he's too entranced. Staring so hard. It's heating me up. My pussy's drooling. No wonder, after all that breast play. It's aching, begging for his cock.
Her flawless slit, pink and glistening with her juices, stirs primal hunger. No stretched lips, no darkening—just pristine, dripping arousal. The thin folds guard her virgin membrane.
"Today, my pussy wants to eat your cock-milk," she says.
He snaps up, urgency in his eyes.
"Not yet. You loved my mouth sucking you, didn't you?"
"…Yes," he rasps, throat dry.
"Your turn. Lick my pussy until I'm satisfied, then I'll let it devour you♪."
He kneels, hands on her plush thighs, tongue touching her clit. "Starting with my clit? You know what you're doing."
He teases the hooded bud, coaxing it out, erect like a tiny cock. One hand fondles her breast, the other strokes her clit's base.
"Ahh… yes♡. Keep going, good boy. Drink my naughty juices as a reward."
Obscene slurping echoes as her slit spills more. She laughs wantonly, drooling, unaware. She thrusts her hips, pressing herself against his face, hands pinning his head. He sucks and licks her clit, her juices soaking his chin. A finger enters her, gripped tightly, coated in her essence.
"Oh! Wait, stop♡!"
She means more. He moves faster, curling his finger, rubbing her womb's spot.
"Wait, no, more! No, really, stop! My pussy, my pussy—ahhh!!"
Her walls clamp his finger. Her trembling hips collapse, toes curling, head thrown back, a sweet scream escaping. A gush drenches his face. Her slit spasms, breaths ragged, tears streaking from closed eyes, drool pooling.
Albedo climaxes.
Masturbation's routine for a succubus, but this—vision blanking, disorienting—was new. She fainted briefly, overwhelmed. His tongue, honed on another for thousands of hours, mastered her untouched, ripe pussy with unmatched zeal.
Lost in afterglow, exhaustion, or thought, Albedo gazes blankly, then rises languidly. "…I'm leaving."
"What?" he gasps.
She activates a magic item, returning to Nazarick, leaving him alone.
"No way…" he mutters.
His erection strains, unfulfilled. Albedo's gone.
"No way…"
Solution later absorbs the drenched sheets' juices light, refreshing, yet rich and potent. Top-tier, apparently.
I came without his cock. So intense. Just fingers and tongue. I'm a succubus, yet a human man made me come. My mind went blank. It felt incredible, but I didn't eat his cock. A succubus… defeated by a human?
Albedo stumbles through Nazarick, unsteady. A maid, concerned, asks if she's unwell.
She smiles faintly. "A human man beat me."
Shock ripples through Nazarick. Albedo, level 100 Overseer, defeated? No wounds, so not combat. A mental game? Her intellect is unmatched, save by Ainz. What happened?
Her wounded pride seals her lips. A catfight with Shalltear erupts, as usual. It's chalked up to a trivial board game loss, but to avoid worrying Ainz, a gag order is issued.
"A board game defeated Albedo? Intriguing," Ainz muses.
A strange flag has been raised.