Albedo's human required a nearby residence. Ainz readily permitted housing him on Nazarick's ninth floor, but Albedo vehemently objected. The other servants grimaced—humans living among them? Unthinkable. "Do as you wish," Ainz relented. Thus, Albedo prepared a mansion in E-Rantel.
The mansion's grandeur its size, its lavish furnishings seemed excessive for a mere human, some whispered. But it doubled as Albedo's dining hall. It demanded a certain prestige, and as Albedo herself deemed it necessary, no servant dared protest.
Then, Ainz's brilliance shone.
"Pity you can only dine in E-Rantel," he mused, granting a magic item to connect two points. The servants' usual chorus of "Wise Lord Ainz!" followed, though Ainz, tired of the praise, downplayed it. The item was no grand artifact like a Gate; it transported one person between fixed locations Nazarick's beginner gear, hoarded but seldom used, too trivial to discard.
Registered were Albedo's Nazarick chamber and the mansion's dining room. Inflexible, it worked only from those points. No one else could use it, ensuring no intruder could breach Nazarick. Practicality was limited, but to Albedo, it was like adding a dining room to her chambers. "Truly, Lord Ainz's genius!" she thought.
Her meal was once daily, before bed.
Regular food sufficed for ordinary meals, but Albedo craved her special feast—ideally all day, every day. Sadly, the man's stamina couldn't sustain it.
Tonight, she visited the dining room.
"I've been expecting you. Shall I prepare a drink?" the man asked.
"No need. Prepare yourself," Albedo replied.
"Understood."
The dining room was vast, its thick stone walls broken only by a heavy door, no windows. A single obsidian table, a masterpiece, stood with two chairs, unused. A fine leather chaise in the corner, cushioned for comfort, remained untouched. A lone eternal magic lamp illuminated the sparse space. The true centerpiece was an enormous bed—firm yet soft, draped in silken sheets smoother than silk, adorned with a canopy. This canopy, a minor magic item, warded against prying eyes, ensuring absolute privacy unless meticulously probed.
The man, barefoot, slipped through the veiled canopy onto the bed. Albedo followed shortly.
He lay bare, not a stitch of clothing. Albedo joined him on the bed.
The implication was clear that act, though not that far, as Albedo found satisfaction in her current method of feeding.
She hadn't lied to Ainz. The man was her meal. As a succubus, her dining was as Ainz surely understood his vast knowledge left no doubt in her mind. His request for a demonstration? Merely curiosity about alternative methods, perhaps a quicker one for busy days. When rushed, a succubus might crudely siphon essence, but with time, she savored it—teasing, heightening, relishing the peak. No other succubi were in Nazarick to share such talk, a relief to Albedo; competition for her prize would be fierce.
"Keep your eyes closed. Open them without permission, and I'll kill you," she commanded.
"As you wish."
"Keep your mouth shut too."
He obeyed silently.
Gazing at his bare form, Albedo licked her lips. Hunger twisted her beauty into something feral. Lust mingled with appetite, but hunger prevailed.
His face was passable. His toned torso, free of scars or blemishes thanks to Nazarick's potions, was acceptable. His legs, lean yet muscular, held no interest—save for what lay between. A thick, proud rod, almost a third leg.
Licking her lips again, she wet them with saliva and leaned close. His faint scent stirred her succubus instincts. His soft member, though cute now, would soon turn fierce.
She knew the magic to make it so.
A soft breath made it twitch. Another warmed it. A third, and it swelled, doubling in length. Her rose-pink lips parted, her tongue flicking the tip, making it jump.
A low chuckle escaped her.
Before her lay a delicious feast. Her smile widened, inevitable before such a treat.
Fully erect, the angled shaft stoked her hunger and more. Though a virgin succubus, Albedo had seen plenty at Demiurge's breeding ranch. This surpassed them all. No human woman could handle its entirety, but Albedo could effortlessly, as a demon and succubus.
Still, diving in was gauche. She preferred finesse.
Her slender fingers grasped the base, guiding it toward her. Veins pulsed along its length, the underside most prominent. She traced it delicately. Her elegant fingers, capable of crushing stone, moved with tender precision, caressing as if chanting, Be delicious, be delicious.
A bead of clear fluid formed at the tip. She loved this precursor to the main course. Her crimson tongue pressed against it, lapping it up with a slow, deliberate swipe.
A sigh of delight. Nectar, as remembered.
But this tease wasn't enough. She craved the thick, hot, jelly-like essence. Opening wide mocked by Shalltear as too big she enveloped him. His heat and firmness filled her mouth, hotter than her own fervor. Her lips tightened, her inner membranes clinging to every inch.
So delicious… so hot… my cock… Her succubus nature reveled in crude thoughts as she buried her face, head bobbing fiercely. Saliva slickened the act, her sucking producing wet, relentless sounds slurping, smacking.
His length glistened, her lips reaching the base, the tip hitting her throat. A human might gag, but Albedo, a succubus, felt only pleasure. No pain could touch her.
No need to hold the base now. Her left hand kneaded his soft sac, coaxing the milk within. Its pliant texture tempted her to linger. Her right hand aided the growing stain on her own body, a soft moan escaping. For a succubus, hunger and lust were entwined unavoidable.
Her head moved faster, a pace no human could match. Her lips, her mouth's softness, its heat, the depth of her throat only Albedo could perform such a sublime act. The man, utterly surrendered, couldn't resist. Nor did he try.
Her sensitive lips caught the slight swelling ejaculation imminent. She pulled back, lips clamping the flared ridge, ready to savor. Swallowing it whole would be a waste; she wanted to taste every drop.
It came—forceful, abundant, hot, thick, exactly as she craved. Not a drop spilled. Eyes closed in ecstasy, she received it.
Even after, she didn't release him, sucking hard to claim every lingering bit. She didn't swallow immediately, rolling the essence on her tongue, savoring it. Yet, it dwindled—absorbed by her nature or unconsciously swallowed, she couldn't tell.
Once finished, she teleported back to her Nazarick chamber.
Silence returned to the room. Certain Albedo was gone, the man opened his eyes.
Alone on the vast bed, only a faint dent, lingering warmth, and a lascivious stain on the sheets remained as proof of her presence.