Part 1
"Oi, what are you up to, Greenie?" he asked Verdé. His prominent lower jaw jutted out like a bulldog's.
"I thought I saw a little bit of fluff on her arm," she said, all innocence as she withdrew her hand.
Mr Buggeritall eyeballed her.
A spark of mischief lit up Verdé's green eyes. "You can watch," she said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the show."
Mr Buggeritall considered it...
...but not for very long.
He jammed a thumb against his chest. "The only one that gets to mess with toots is me," he said. "We're going to go far together."
Adriana gave an apologetic smile for her imp's antics, but there was none of the desperation Phil had seen before. It was as she'd said—she'd accepted it and come to an accommodation with the noisome imp's presence.
"You know it has to happen at some point," Verdé said.
"It will... when she's ready," Mr Buggeritall said with a determination that belied his tiny uncouth form.
The door to the test room opened and Phil's name was called out.
"I wouldn't worry," Adriana called after him. "I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Another one with promise," Verdé said as she and Phil walked to the test room. "Although she still has a long path to walk."
Phil was more concerned about his path coming to an end right here. He was looking at the succubus standing next to the open door and feeling anything but fine. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and random facts and pieces of information swirled through his head in a great impenetrable swarm.
Phil really really hated tests.
He entered the room and saw it was as Adriana had described—the only people in the room were three of The Scrote's succubi. With a sinking feeling Phil recognised the one sitting in the chair opposite him. She was the one who'd made him ejaculate into her hand on the very first day he'd gone to one of Stine's fast-track lectures. She also recognised Phil and smiled as though he was a piece of livestock she'd already bought and owned.
"Ah, the student who summoned a pair of inferior lust daemons. Phil Rowling, isn't it?" she said.
Phil nodded. "Um, how should I address you, Miss...?" he asked.
"Miss?" The succubus laughed. "We're not decrepit husks. I am Astrapia, this is Seleucida and that is Paradisea. We are here to see if you are fit to call yourself master of daemons."
She gestured to an empty chair opposite her.
"Sit down and we'll begin."
Phil looked down at the chair. He repositioned it and sat down.
That seemed easy enough, he thought.
Then the succubi started to take their clothes off. Admittedly, they hadn't been wearing much to begin with—little more than the skimpy black costumes of showgirl dancers—but there was a big difference between not much and nothing at all. Phil's eyes boggled and his Adam's apple worked furiously as the sex daemons peeled off their bodices to expose the bulging pink hemispheres of their breasts. Was there a succubus that didn't have a body gorgeous enough to turn a glamour model green with envy?
The succubus that had shown Phil in, Paradisea, saw his discomfort and paused. "Surely as a master of succubi you must be used to this by now."
"Yes, what a splendid idea," Verdé said as she removed her diaphanous green robes and hung them over the back of Phil's chair.
Phil was once again surrounded by gorgeous naked woman. And as usual he wished he could enjoy it without being terrified for his life and soul.
"Why don't you take off your robe as well?" Seleucida asked.
"We're already naked," Paradisea said. "You'll feel more comfortable if you're naked as well."
"If you're worried about your size, you shouldn't be," Seleucida said.
"We don't care how big or how small they are," Paradisea said.
"We suck them all," Seleucida said.
"Fuck them all," Paradisea bent closer to whisper in Phil's ear.
And now Phil had a single, hard, reason to keep his robes on.
"As delightful as this all is, it is rather unnecessary," Verdé said.
to be continued...
Showing posts with label new serial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new serial. Show all posts
Thursday, July 07, 2016
Tuesday, July 05, 2016
Succubus Summoning 213, part 1
Phil had always hated exams. It didn't seem to matter how much revision or prep he did, or how well he knew the subject. He'd sit down, stare at the question sheet and then his mind would go blank, or worse, a million different facts would start careering around inside his head like drunken dodgem cars. And that was for normal non-daemon-world exams. Here, at Wargsnouts, if you failed a test there was a chance of dying or worse.
Phil didn't even know what the test was on. The Scrote had neglected to inform his students. Phil shuffled through his notes. Hellscape Topology... Rites and Rituals... Extra-Dimensional Daemonology... anything? It was impossible.
Phil was surprised when Darvill breezed up to him and spoke. The other student had plenty of cause not to be friendly with him, when you considered it was his succubi that were responsible for killing Darvill's friends. Sort of.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Phil said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill didn't seem to be bothered about it. Or the upcoming exam. Darvill was the sort that didn't seem to get fazed by anything.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
That was fine and all that, Phil thought. He shuffled miserably through his notes.
"I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it," he said.
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
Phil looked at the members of staff Darvill pointed to and didn't understand. They were a mismatched bunch. Cartifax Brion Jacks could pass for a P.E. teacher. High Magus R. L. Conley looked as though he'd just stepped out of an old horror movie. There was no pattern, no connection Phil could see.
Was this something Phil was supposed to know? Some lesson he'd missed?
Even Verdé seemed amused by his bafflement.
"It's not his strongest suit," she responded to a question Darvill asked her.
Everyone seemed to know more than Phil.
One of The Scrote's succubi, resplendent like a star showgirl, opened the door and looked around the room. For one heart-stopping moment Phil thought it was his turn, but then the succubus called out Darvill's name instead.
That gave Phil another half hour to shuffle through his notes in a last-ditch effort to cram for a test he didn't have the slightest clue about. He wondered if it might have been better if the succubus had called out his name instead, if only to get this damn exam over and done with. And now he'd mixed his notes up. They were an incoherent jumble. He didn't think this extra half hour or so was going to change anything.
He lifted his head and turned to Verdé. "Hey wait. Darvill spoke to you directly."
When Phil had first met Darvill, the other student had ridiculed the notion of talking to other warlock's daemons.
"Yes," Verdé said. "It's been quite pleasing to observe his personal growth. There's a lot of promise there. I think he'll develop into a fine warlock."
"You sound like you'd rather have been summoned by him instead of me," Phil said.
Verdé laughed. "Oh no. We're perfectly happy with the master we have."
She rested her head on Phil's shoulder and his nose was filled with the scent of fresh meadow flowers. His cock stirred in his pants.
Great. As if it wasn't difficult enough to concentrate already.
Phil's last-minute cramming was going so badly he was even glad of the interruption when another fellow student approached him. It was Adriana Mayall, but Phil had to do a double take as she'd changed so much since the last time he'd seen her. The skinny mop with a pale face hidden behind scraggly curtains of blonde hair was gone. Instead Phil found himself looking at a pretty young woman dressed very neatly in a business suit as if she was about to take an interview in the city. Even her posture was different. Phil hadn't realised it before, but she was taller than him when she stood up straight. There was an easier smile on her lips and she actually looked at Phil while talking to him rather than staring at the floor.
Her imp, Mr Buggeritall, was still present. He sat on her shoulder and puffed away on a foul-smelling stogie. He was different from before in that he was no longer naked. Like Adriana he was dressed in a suit right down to a miniature tie. Okay, not everything was different. He still leered at Verdé like a dirty old lecherous uncle.
"You look different," Phil said.
Adriana shrugged. "They told me there was no way to get rid of him, so we've come to an arrangement."
"She stops being a whiny little bitch feeling sorry for herself all the time and I stop embarrassing her in public," Mr Buggeritall said.
Adriana gave a little roll of her eyes that indicated she was not that far removed from the awkward girl she'd been before, despite her drastic change in appearance.
"Don't be like that, toots," the imp said. "It was for your benefit. I did it to toughen you up."
Adriana gave Phil a goofy little smile. "It is better than before."
The imp stood up and puffed out his chest. "I'm her personal trainer now."
Adriana suppressed a giggle. She looked down at Phil's notes.
"Revising for Magus Stine's test?" she asked.
"Yes," Phil replied. "Have you already taken it?"
Adriana nodded.
"What's it on?" Phil asked.
"It's odd," Adriana said. "Magus Stine wasn't present for the test, nor were any of the staff. It was just his succubi, three of them. They asked me some fairly straightforward questions about my background and Mr Buggeritall. I thought they were trying to put me at ease before the test began, then they told me it was over and I was fine."
She shrugged.
"Maybe after all the recent deaths, accidents and students going missing, they're taking some extra precautions to try and keep us safe."
Mr Buggeritall suddenly moved from Adriana's right shoulder to her left.
"Oi, what are you up to, Greenie?" he asked Verdé. His prominent lower jaw jutted out like a bulldog's.
to be continued...
I wasn't sure how to post this chapter. The serialisation plan was mainly to keep me moving on the story. Then I stalled. Then I wrote virtually the whole thing one night while waiting at the airport. I think I'll put it up here anyway. It gives me a final chance to correct things for the ebook/novel version if it turns out I flubbed the ending.
The new parts will be posted a little more frequently than weekly (one every two days at a guess) and I'll return to the H-space Monster Girl Bestiary stories once I've finished up with Phil's current arc of adventures.
Phil didn't even know what the test was on. The Scrote had neglected to inform his students. Phil shuffled through his notes. Hellscape Topology... Rites and Rituals... Extra-Dimensional Daemonology... anything? It was impossible.
Phil was surprised when Darvill breezed up to him and spoke. The other student had plenty of cause not to be friendly with him, when you considered it was his succubi that were responsible for killing Darvill's friends. Sort of.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Phil said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill didn't seem to be bothered about it. Or the upcoming exam. Darvill was the sort that didn't seem to get fazed by anything.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
That was fine and all that, Phil thought. He shuffled miserably through his notes.
"I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it," he said.
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
Phil looked at the members of staff Darvill pointed to and didn't understand. They were a mismatched bunch. Cartifax Brion Jacks could pass for a P.E. teacher. High Magus R. L. Conley looked as though he'd just stepped out of an old horror movie. There was no pattern, no connection Phil could see.
Was this something Phil was supposed to know? Some lesson he'd missed?
Even Verdé seemed amused by his bafflement.
"It's not his strongest suit," she responded to a question Darvill asked her.
Everyone seemed to know more than Phil.
One of The Scrote's succubi, resplendent like a star showgirl, opened the door and looked around the room. For one heart-stopping moment Phil thought it was his turn, but then the succubus called out Darvill's name instead.
That gave Phil another half hour to shuffle through his notes in a last-ditch effort to cram for a test he didn't have the slightest clue about. He wondered if it might have been better if the succubus had called out his name instead, if only to get this damn exam over and done with. And now he'd mixed his notes up. They were an incoherent jumble. He didn't think this extra half hour or so was going to change anything.
He lifted his head and turned to Verdé. "Hey wait. Darvill spoke to you directly."
When Phil had first met Darvill, the other student had ridiculed the notion of talking to other warlock's daemons.
"Yes," Verdé said. "It's been quite pleasing to observe his personal growth. There's a lot of promise there. I think he'll develop into a fine warlock."
"You sound like you'd rather have been summoned by him instead of me," Phil said.
Verdé laughed. "Oh no. We're perfectly happy with the master we have."
She rested her head on Phil's shoulder and his nose was filled with the scent of fresh meadow flowers. His cock stirred in his pants.
Great. As if it wasn't difficult enough to concentrate already.
Phil's last-minute cramming was going so badly he was even glad of the interruption when another fellow student approached him. It was Adriana Mayall, but Phil had to do a double take as she'd changed so much since the last time he'd seen her. The skinny mop with a pale face hidden behind scraggly curtains of blonde hair was gone. Instead Phil found himself looking at a pretty young woman dressed very neatly in a business suit as if she was about to take an interview in the city. Even her posture was different. Phil hadn't realised it before, but she was taller than him when she stood up straight. There was an easier smile on her lips and she actually looked at Phil while talking to him rather than staring at the floor.
Her imp, Mr Buggeritall, was still present. He sat on her shoulder and puffed away on a foul-smelling stogie. He was different from before in that he was no longer naked. Like Adriana he was dressed in a suit right down to a miniature tie. Okay, not everything was different. He still leered at Verdé like a dirty old lecherous uncle.
"You look different," Phil said.
Adriana shrugged. "They told me there was no way to get rid of him, so we've come to an arrangement."
"She stops being a whiny little bitch feeling sorry for herself all the time and I stop embarrassing her in public," Mr Buggeritall said.
Adriana gave a little roll of her eyes that indicated she was not that far removed from the awkward girl she'd been before, despite her drastic change in appearance.
"Don't be like that, toots," the imp said. "It was for your benefit. I did it to toughen you up."
Adriana gave Phil a goofy little smile. "It is better than before."
The imp stood up and puffed out his chest. "I'm her personal trainer now."
Adriana suppressed a giggle. She looked down at Phil's notes.
"Revising for Magus Stine's test?" she asked.
"Yes," Phil replied. "Have you already taken it?"
Adriana nodded.
"What's it on?" Phil asked.
"It's odd," Adriana said. "Magus Stine wasn't present for the test, nor were any of the staff. It was just his succubi, three of them. They asked me some fairly straightforward questions about my background and Mr Buggeritall. I thought they were trying to put me at ease before the test began, then they told me it was over and I was fine."
She shrugged.
"Maybe after all the recent deaths, accidents and students going missing, they're taking some extra precautions to try and keep us safe."
Mr Buggeritall suddenly moved from Adriana's right shoulder to her left.
"Oi, what are you up to, Greenie?" he asked Verdé. His prominent lower jaw jutted out like a bulldog's.
to be continued...
I wasn't sure how to post this chapter. The serialisation plan was mainly to keep me moving on the story. Then I stalled. Then I wrote virtually the whole thing one night while waiting at the airport. I think I'll put it up here anyway. It gives me a final chance to correct things for the ebook/novel version if it turns out I flubbed the ending.
The new parts will be posted a little more frequently than weekly (one every two days at a guess) and I'll return to the H-space Monster Girl Bestiary stories once I've finished up with Phil's current arc of adventures.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 5
And, a little later than planned, the final part of Succubus Summoning 212.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Succubus Summoning 212, part 5
Darvill was not ready to depart this plane just yet, in a haze of bliss or otherwise. The circle prevented the casting of new magic, but Darvill still had the protective anti-lust wards he'd carved into his arms after following Rowling's succubi into hell. Their power had faded as his flesh had healed, but they were still there, waiting to be activated. All Darvill had to do was bend one finger back to his palm, and...
Zap!
There was a crackle of energy, the acrid stench of burnt flesh and the succubus jumped out of his lap like an electrocuted cat.
Not enough, Darvill thought. Not powerful enough. Flesh wards were powerful, but only when the cuts were fresh and bleeding. His had had two days to heal. The protective aura they granted him was as brittle as an eggshell.
The shocked succubus turned to him. With her red eyes and face contorted in rage her daemonic nature was fully visible.
"How dare you," she hissed.
Her black nails were long and pointed like claws. For a moment Darvill thought she intended to tear out his throat with a swipe of her wickedly-pointed nails.
Better that than her claiming his soul, he thought.
Then the daemon regained her composure. Her face softened back to its original exquisite beauty.
"No, I must remember the teachings of Mother Diabolicia," she said. "Pleasure is the one true path."
She gestured with her hands and Darvill's arms were yanked behind the chair and his wrists bound with tethers of shadow. She placed a palm under her chin and blew him a kiss that expanded and surrounded Darvill in a warm cloud of scented air. His lust wards crackled and shorted out. The warmth settled in Darvill and concentrated in his loins. An erection rose unbidden and tented the front of his trousers.
"Much better," the succubus said.
She stepped inside the circle and ran her fingers lightly up the underside of Darvill's bulge. His manhood twitched and he felt slick wetness on the inside of his underwear.
No, the brutish chavs he'd been forced to grow up with were slave to their genitals. Not Darvill.
The succubus slithered down between his legs. Eyes fixed on Darvill, lips turned up in a sultry half-smile, she found Darvill's fly and unzipped it. Her hand reached inside and extricated Darvill's erection.
"Yum," the succubus said.
She tilted her head down. The helmet of Darvill's cock was enfolded by her hot tongue. His dick twitched again. Clear pre-cum oozed from the tip. The succubus lapped it up and murmured her pleasures.
"You're a good student. You deserve my luscious cunt."
She stood up and sat in Darvill's lap with her legs astride him. Her exposed vulva was puffy and moist with desire. Darvill felt the heat spilling out of her as she pressed the dripping flaps up against the swollen head of his erection. His cock twitched eagerly. It wanted to be inside.
Darvill didn't. He knew what she was and what she'd do.
He was finding it harder to think. His thoughts were slow and sluggish as if wading through thick fog.
Succubus charm magic. He was lucky he could still think at all.
The succubus put her arms on Darvill's shoulders.
"In you go," she said.
The plump lips of her sex parted around the head of his cock and she slid down him like a pole, slowly easing him up into her warmth. And she was warm, hot even. And wet. And tight. Really really tight. She took him all the way inside her and her fleshy walls closed around his penis like a fist.
Darvill let out a surprised gasp.
That felt... incredible.
Of course it felt incredible. She was a succubus. Sex was how they cracked men open to suck out the soul within.
Come on, focus! he yelled through the haze filling up his skull. Think! You're too smart to end up spurting your life and soul away up a succubus's cunt.
He caught the back of his shoe on the edge of the chair leg and slid it off.
The succubus kissed him lightly on his lips, his chin, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. Her perfumed breath excited his nostrils and thickened the fog blurring his thoughts. She moved her hips up and down sinuously, adding a little rotation at the end that dragged her vaginal walls against his foreskin and sent streamers of pleasure tickling down his shaft.
Darvill kicked down at the floor, stubbing his big toe against the hard stone floor and sending a bolt of pain shooting up his leg. While the pain was good for shaking him out of the pleasant fug the succubus was smothering him in, it wasn't the reason he'd done it.
The succubus sighed and moaned in pleasure as she moved against him. Her wet sex slid smoothly up and down Darvill's erection. As his cock pushed up deeper inside her it came up against a soft knot of flesh that shuddered wetly in unwholesome anticipation.
Darvill banged his foot down hard on the stone floor, breaking his big toe and driving the nail back through his flesh. Blood oozed out and soaked the tip of his sock.
The succubus continued to swing her hips back and forth. Her sumptuous sex gripped and squeezed him. Pre-cum flowed out of his twitching member in a constant stream. An inner maw at the back of her sex sucked hungrily at his glans with each stroke.
Darvill kicked down at the hard stone floor.
More blood. He needed more blood. His sock was already saturated and dripping, but he needed more. Darvill specialised in blood magic. A trickle of his blood over the line would be enough to break the circle and negate its hold on him.
He smashed his foot down again.
Hot blood was sticky between his mangled toes. It dribbled from his saturated sock and splashed onto the floor.
More. He needed the blood to flow.
Before...
The succubus gave a louder sigh and sank all the way down in his lap. Her inner maw parted around the outside of his glans and she engulfed Darvill's cock into a soft, muscular organ lined with hot juices. That heat was transmitted to Darvill's member, and from there flowed down into his balls.
Darvill's foot stopped. It hovered, trembling, a few inches off the floor.
The succubus wrapped her arms around him and pressed her naked breasts against his chest. She kissed his cheek and then wormed her hot, dripping tongue into his earhole.
"It's over," she whispered. "Just let go and enjoy the final pleasures I can give you."
The walls of her inner sex wriggled lewdly around Darvill's throbbing member. The muscular walls gave him a gentle squeeze.
Darvill's whole body trembled on edge. His balls felt swollen, bloated and itchy. He ached with the need to empty them into her.
No. He was more than this. Could be more than this.
The succubus sucked on his earlobe as she writhed against him. Her scent filled and overwhelmed his senses. Darvill's legs trembled and his toes curled as he fought to resist the urge to come.
"Still trying to hold on?" the succubus breathed in his ear. "Time to end this."
The walls of her inner organ softened and then clenched around Darvill's cock. He felt a strange, irresistible drawing sensation. A dam broke within him and his thoughts were swept away by the force of the climax. He let out his breath in a pent-up gasp. His feet drummed against the chair legs and his hips bucked as he emptied great throbbing gouts of semen inside her.
"Yessss," the daemon hissed.
The same exultant cry echoed through Darvill's thoughts. Trying to hold it in for so long seemed so foolish now as he gushed in a fountain of bliss.
The succubus's sex clenched and throbbed around his manhood as she swallowed his issue with muscular gulps.
More. He wanted more of this. Wanted to give her more. Wanted the feelings, the sensation, the pure release of unrestrained rutting to run on and on and on.
She leant into him and he was enveloped by her heat. She unfurled black bat wings and wrapped them around both him and the chair. Within them her sex continued to clench, throb and gulp. Slowly, with Darvill completely drowned in sensual ecstasy, she pumped out first his semen, and then his life and soul.
Then, the feeding over, she drew back her wings and stood up. She kissed her finger and placed it against the withered lips of Darvill's shrivelled-up husk.
"You were a good student," she said with a luscious pout.
The other succubus popped the bubble of bliss she was using to imprison Darvill's daemon. The poly-Oc stared mournfully at Darvill's wizened remains.
"Time to look for a new master," the other sitting succubus said with a malevolent smile. "One with the wisdom to hide their strength from those who'd see it as a threat."
The poly-Oc glowered at them before vanishing with a pop of displaced air as it returned back to its own dominion.
* * * *
The door to the examination room opened. A succubus stepped outside and looked around the room before her gaze alighted on Phil.
"Phil Rowling?" she said. "It's your turn."
And that's that for Succubus Summoning 212, and Evan Darvill.
Next up is Succubus Summoning 213, where Phil is in danger (again!) of ending up as dessert. My plan was to restart after a week's break and try a little harder to keep to a weekly schedule than I managed last time. As with all things Succubus Summoning at the moment, expect schedules to slide. If I have a good week and get 2K or 3K words ahead I'll start posting next Monday, if not, the Monday after.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Succubus Summoning 212, part 5
Darvill was not ready to depart this plane just yet, in a haze of bliss or otherwise. The circle prevented the casting of new magic, but Darvill still had the protective anti-lust wards he'd carved into his arms after following Rowling's succubi into hell. Their power had faded as his flesh had healed, but they were still there, waiting to be activated. All Darvill had to do was bend one finger back to his palm, and...
Zap!
There was a crackle of energy, the acrid stench of burnt flesh and the succubus jumped out of his lap like an electrocuted cat.
Not enough, Darvill thought. Not powerful enough. Flesh wards were powerful, but only when the cuts were fresh and bleeding. His had had two days to heal. The protective aura they granted him was as brittle as an eggshell.
The shocked succubus turned to him. With her red eyes and face contorted in rage her daemonic nature was fully visible.
"How dare you," she hissed.
Her black nails were long and pointed like claws. For a moment Darvill thought she intended to tear out his throat with a swipe of her wickedly-pointed nails.
Better that than her claiming his soul, he thought.
Then the daemon regained her composure. Her face softened back to its original exquisite beauty.
"No, I must remember the teachings of Mother Diabolicia," she said. "Pleasure is the one true path."
She gestured with her hands and Darvill's arms were yanked behind the chair and his wrists bound with tethers of shadow. She placed a palm under her chin and blew him a kiss that expanded and surrounded Darvill in a warm cloud of scented air. His lust wards crackled and shorted out. The warmth settled in Darvill and concentrated in his loins. An erection rose unbidden and tented the front of his trousers.
"Much better," the succubus said.
She stepped inside the circle and ran her fingers lightly up the underside of Darvill's bulge. His manhood twitched and he felt slick wetness on the inside of his underwear.
No, the brutish chavs he'd been forced to grow up with were slave to their genitals. Not Darvill.
The succubus slithered down between his legs. Eyes fixed on Darvill, lips turned up in a sultry half-smile, she found Darvill's fly and unzipped it. Her hand reached inside and extricated Darvill's erection.
"Yum," the succubus said.
She tilted her head down. The helmet of Darvill's cock was enfolded by her hot tongue. His dick twitched again. Clear pre-cum oozed from the tip. The succubus lapped it up and murmured her pleasures.
"You're a good student. You deserve my luscious cunt."
She stood up and sat in Darvill's lap with her legs astride him. Her exposed vulva was puffy and moist with desire. Darvill felt the heat spilling out of her as she pressed the dripping flaps up against the swollen head of his erection. His cock twitched eagerly. It wanted to be inside.
Darvill didn't. He knew what she was and what she'd do.
He was finding it harder to think. His thoughts were slow and sluggish as if wading through thick fog.
Succubus charm magic. He was lucky he could still think at all.
The succubus put her arms on Darvill's shoulders.
"In you go," she said.
The plump lips of her sex parted around the head of his cock and she slid down him like a pole, slowly easing him up into her warmth. And she was warm, hot even. And wet. And tight. Really really tight. She took him all the way inside her and her fleshy walls closed around his penis like a fist.
Darvill let out a surprised gasp.
That felt... incredible.
Of course it felt incredible. She was a succubus. Sex was how they cracked men open to suck out the soul within.
Come on, focus! he yelled through the haze filling up his skull. Think! You're too smart to end up spurting your life and soul away up a succubus's cunt.
He caught the back of his shoe on the edge of the chair leg and slid it off.
The succubus kissed him lightly on his lips, his chin, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. Her perfumed breath excited his nostrils and thickened the fog blurring his thoughts. She moved her hips up and down sinuously, adding a little rotation at the end that dragged her vaginal walls against his foreskin and sent streamers of pleasure tickling down his shaft.
Darvill kicked down at the floor, stubbing his big toe against the hard stone floor and sending a bolt of pain shooting up his leg. While the pain was good for shaking him out of the pleasant fug the succubus was smothering him in, it wasn't the reason he'd done it.
The succubus sighed and moaned in pleasure as she moved against him. Her wet sex slid smoothly up and down Darvill's erection. As his cock pushed up deeper inside her it came up against a soft knot of flesh that shuddered wetly in unwholesome anticipation.
Darvill banged his foot down hard on the stone floor, breaking his big toe and driving the nail back through his flesh. Blood oozed out and soaked the tip of his sock.
The succubus continued to swing her hips back and forth. Her sumptuous sex gripped and squeezed him. Pre-cum flowed out of his twitching member in a constant stream. An inner maw at the back of her sex sucked hungrily at his glans with each stroke.
Darvill kicked down at the hard stone floor.
More blood. He needed more blood. His sock was already saturated and dripping, but he needed more. Darvill specialised in blood magic. A trickle of his blood over the line would be enough to break the circle and negate its hold on him.
He smashed his foot down again.
Hot blood was sticky between his mangled toes. It dribbled from his saturated sock and splashed onto the floor.
More. He needed the blood to flow.
Before...
The succubus gave a louder sigh and sank all the way down in his lap. Her inner maw parted around the outside of his glans and she engulfed Darvill's cock into a soft, muscular organ lined with hot juices. That heat was transmitted to Darvill's member, and from there flowed down into his balls.
Darvill's foot stopped. It hovered, trembling, a few inches off the floor.
The succubus wrapped her arms around him and pressed her naked breasts against his chest. She kissed his cheek and then wormed her hot, dripping tongue into his earhole.
"It's over," she whispered. "Just let go and enjoy the final pleasures I can give you."
The walls of her inner sex wriggled lewdly around Darvill's throbbing member. The muscular walls gave him a gentle squeeze.
Darvill's whole body trembled on edge. His balls felt swollen, bloated and itchy. He ached with the need to empty them into her.
No. He was more than this. Could be more than this.
The succubus sucked on his earlobe as she writhed against him. Her scent filled and overwhelmed his senses. Darvill's legs trembled and his toes curled as he fought to resist the urge to come.
"Still trying to hold on?" the succubus breathed in his ear. "Time to end this."
The walls of her inner organ softened and then clenched around Darvill's cock. He felt a strange, irresistible drawing sensation. A dam broke within him and his thoughts were swept away by the force of the climax. He let out his breath in a pent-up gasp. His feet drummed against the chair legs and his hips bucked as he emptied great throbbing gouts of semen inside her.
"Yessss," the daemon hissed.
The same exultant cry echoed through Darvill's thoughts. Trying to hold it in for so long seemed so foolish now as he gushed in a fountain of bliss.
The succubus's sex clenched and throbbed around his manhood as she swallowed his issue with muscular gulps.
More. He wanted more of this. Wanted to give her more. Wanted the feelings, the sensation, the pure release of unrestrained rutting to run on and on and on.
She leant into him and he was enveloped by her heat. She unfurled black bat wings and wrapped them around both him and the chair. Within them her sex continued to clench, throb and gulp. Slowly, with Darvill completely drowned in sensual ecstasy, she pumped out first his semen, and then his life and soul.
Then, the feeding over, she drew back her wings and stood up. She kissed her finger and placed it against the withered lips of Darvill's shrivelled-up husk.
"You were a good student," she said with a luscious pout.
The other succubus popped the bubble of bliss she was using to imprison Darvill's daemon. The poly-Oc stared mournfully at Darvill's wizened remains.
"Time to look for a new master," the other sitting succubus said with a malevolent smile. "One with the wisdom to hide their strength from those who'd see it as a threat."
The poly-Oc glowered at them before vanishing with a pop of displaced air as it returned back to its own dominion.
* * * *
The door to the examination room opened. A succubus stepped outside and looked around the room before her gaze alighted on Phil.
"Phil Rowling?" she said. "It's your turn."
And that's that for Succubus Summoning 212, and Evan Darvill.
Next up is Succubus Summoning 213, where Phil is in danger (again!) of ending up as dessert. My plan was to restart after a week's break and try a little harder to keep to a weekly schedule than I managed last time. As with all things Succubus Summoning at the moment, expect schedules to slide. If I have a good week and get 2K or 3K words ahead I'll start posting next Monday, if not, the Monday after.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 4
Yep, the posting schedule is still wildly inconsistent, but at least the story is moving along.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Succubus Summoning 212, part 4
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
Deprived of his daemonic familiar, Darvill went for his knife. At the same time, the succubus sitting opposite him tapped the tip of her tail on the floor and an esoteric circle surrounding his chair lit up with spectral white light. A circle of subdual Darvill realised just as he was slammed back down on the chair as if gravity had increased tenfold around him. These circles were usually used to detain troublesome warlocks and other practitioners of the dark arts.
To his left the succubus pressed the squirming poly-Oc down into her lap. She flexed her hips and let out a little erotic sigh as a swirling pink translucent globe swelled up and enveloped the squirming daemon. A change came over the daemon. Its eyestalks stopped thrashing about and it floated languidly within the globe of pink light.
The succubus turned cold black eyes to Darvill. "You need not worry about your little pet."
She pressed her hips up against the ball of energy and her heavy eyelids fluttered as she let out another erotic moan. The daemon within gave a little shudder of pleasure and its eyes blinked slowly.
The succubus smiled down at the daemon and stroked the sphere of pink light. "As you can see, they're totally happy within my little bubble of bliss."
"What is going on here?" Darvill demanded.
Had he been too cocky? Were they trying to scare him as punishment for showing off?
The succubus sitting in front of Darvill glanced up at her companion. The other succubus loosened her bodice and turned it down to expose the firm pink mounds of her tits. She plucked a long pink plume from the back of her costume and ran her fingers through the fronds as though she was unsheathing a sword.
"I do believe you challenged me to show you more," she said.
She stepped in front of Darvill and stroked the feather against her body in a slow, sensual dance that showcased her long lissom legs and the firm, inviting curves of her chest and ass to devastating effect. No human exotic dancer could come anywhere close. Even though Darvill knew this was part of a spell to mesmerise him, it was still a battle to keep his thoughts clear and unclouded.
She walked around the edge of the circle. She caressed the side of Darvill's cheek with the tip of the plume. His skin tingled where the feather brushed against him and he felt a creeping lassitude spread out from the point of contact.
He squirmed ineffectually against the force pinning him to the chair.
"This is pointless," he said. "It's not a test if she coerces me. There is no succumbing to temptation if she takes away my free will with her charm magic."
"Test is over," the succubus walking around him said. She tickled the back of his ear with the plume and the hairs on the back of Darvill's neck stood up as a pleasant tingle ran through them. "Now it's playtime."
"The warlock world is a dangerous one," the succubus sitting in front of him explained, "full of intrigue and deadly feuds. Our master gave us two tasks. The first is to prod novice warlocks down the correct path. The second is to identify novice warlocks who might one day grow into threats to our master's position."
"Identify and eliminate," the succubus circling him said. She tickled Darvill's nostrils with her plume and his nose was filled with exotic, soporific perfume.
"You are clever and ambitious," the sitting succubus said. "Given time you could develop into a warlock powerful enough to challenge our master and others of his cabal."
"Unless we chop you down now, while you're still weak." The other succubus stroked her plume against Darvill's crotch and he felt a throb in his loins that had nothing to do with his own desires. "Chop you down before you have a chance to grow into a more troublesome opponent."
Darvill felt vertiginous reeling fear. Not a test. Not a hazing. An execution.
And he was outclassed. Even had he not been trapped within the circle of subdual, this trio were far beyond his level.
He was also without his daemon. A glance to his left and he saw the third succubus had both hands on the pink globe in her lap. She writhed, flexed her hips and pressed her sex to it. Bubbles rose in the shimmering pink sphere and the poly-Oc trapped within gave a weak, blissed-out shiver.
Darvill attempted to recite the standard emergency dismissal every student was taught. Rather than taking flight from his tongue, the words flopped, soundless, and were absorbed by the energies of the circle.
Figured. There would be glyphs in the design that prevented the casting of any spells.
The standing succubus completed her circuit and stood before him again. Eyes smouldering with lustful fires, she stepped into the circle, pushed his legs apart and went down on her knees between them. She reached up, popped the buttons of his shirt and then slithered up against him. The soft fleshy mounds of her tits rubbed against his exposed chest. Wherever her skin came into contact with his it left behind a pleasant tingly sensation that left his skin craving more. She slithered up until her face was level with his.
"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered. "Succubi are the gentlest assassins. Our victims depart this plane in a haze of unparalleled sensual bliss."
She twisted in his lap and rubbed the swell of her ass against his crotch in a final lap dance. The wriggling pressure sent blood surging down into his cock and it rose up against the fabric of his underwear.
Darvill was not ready to depart this plane just yet, in a haze of bliss or otherwise. The circle prevented the casting of new magic, but Darvill still had the protective anti-lust wards he'd carved into his arms after following Rowling's succubi into hell. Their power had faded as his flesh had healed, but they were still there, waiting to be activated. All Darvill had to do was bend one finger back to his palm, and...
to be continued...
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Succubus Summoning 212, part 4
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
Deprived of his daemonic familiar, Darvill went for his knife. At the same time, the succubus sitting opposite him tapped the tip of her tail on the floor and an esoteric circle surrounding his chair lit up with spectral white light. A circle of subdual Darvill realised just as he was slammed back down on the chair as if gravity had increased tenfold around him. These circles were usually used to detain troublesome warlocks and other practitioners of the dark arts.
To his left the succubus pressed the squirming poly-Oc down into her lap. She flexed her hips and let out a little erotic sigh as a swirling pink translucent globe swelled up and enveloped the squirming daemon. A change came over the daemon. Its eyestalks stopped thrashing about and it floated languidly within the globe of pink light.
The succubus turned cold black eyes to Darvill. "You need not worry about your little pet."
She pressed her hips up against the ball of energy and her heavy eyelids fluttered as she let out another erotic moan. The daemon within gave a little shudder of pleasure and its eyes blinked slowly.
The succubus smiled down at the daemon and stroked the sphere of pink light. "As you can see, they're totally happy within my little bubble of bliss."
"What is going on here?" Darvill demanded.
Had he been too cocky? Were they trying to scare him as punishment for showing off?
The succubus sitting in front of Darvill glanced up at her companion. The other succubus loosened her bodice and turned it down to expose the firm pink mounds of her tits. She plucked a long pink plume from the back of her costume and ran her fingers through the fronds as though she was unsheathing a sword.
"I do believe you challenged me to show you more," she said.
She stepped in front of Darvill and stroked the feather against her body in a slow, sensual dance that showcased her long lissom legs and the firm, inviting curves of her chest and ass to devastating effect. No human exotic dancer could come anywhere close. Even though Darvill knew this was part of a spell to mesmerise him, it was still a battle to keep his thoughts clear and unclouded.
She walked around the edge of the circle. She caressed the side of Darvill's cheek with the tip of the plume. His skin tingled where the feather brushed against him and he felt a creeping lassitude spread out from the point of contact.
He squirmed ineffectually against the force pinning him to the chair.
"This is pointless," he said. "It's not a test if she coerces me. There is no succumbing to temptation if she takes away my free will with her charm magic."
"Test is over," the succubus walking around him said. She tickled the back of his ear with the plume and the hairs on the back of Darvill's neck stood up as a pleasant tingle ran through them. "Now it's playtime."
"The warlock world is a dangerous one," the succubus sitting in front of him explained, "full of intrigue and deadly feuds. Our master gave us two tasks. The first is to prod novice warlocks down the correct path. The second is to identify novice warlocks who might one day grow into threats to our master's position."
"Identify and eliminate," the succubus circling him said. She tickled Darvill's nostrils with her plume and his nose was filled with exotic, soporific perfume.
"You are clever and ambitious," the sitting succubus said. "Given time you could develop into a warlock powerful enough to challenge our master and others of his cabal."
"Unless we chop you down now, while you're still weak." The other succubus stroked her plume against Darvill's crotch and he felt a throb in his loins that had nothing to do with his own desires. "Chop you down before you have a chance to grow into a more troublesome opponent."
Darvill felt vertiginous reeling fear. Not a test. Not a hazing. An execution.
And he was outclassed. Even had he not been trapped within the circle of subdual, this trio were far beyond his level.
He was also without his daemon. A glance to his left and he saw the third succubus had both hands on the pink globe in her lap. She writhed, flexed her hips and pressed her sex to it. Bubbles rose in the shimmering pink sphere and the poly-Oc trapped within gave a weak, blissed-out shiver.
Darvill attempted to recite the standard emergency dismissal every student was taught. Rather than taking flight from his tongue, the words flopped, soundless, and were absorbed by the energies of the circle.
Figured. There would be glyphs in the design that prevented the casting of any spells.
The standing succubus completed her circuit and stood before him again. Eyes smouldering with lustful fires, she stepped into the circle, pushed his legs apart and went down on her knees between them. She reached up, popped the buttons of his shirt and then slithered up against him. The soft fleshy mounds of her tits rubbed against his exposed chest. Wherever her skin came into contact with his it left behind a pleasant tingly sensation that left his skin craving more. She slithered up until her face was level with his.
"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered. "Succubi are the gentlest assassins. Our victims depart this plane in a haze of unparalleled sensual bliss."
She twisted in his lap and rubbed the swell of her ass against his crotch in a final lap dance. The wriggling pressure sent blood surging down into his cock and it rose up against the fabric of his underwear.
Darvill was not ready to depart this plane just yet, in a haze of bliss or otherwise. The circle prevented the casting of new magic, but Darvill still had the protective anti-lust wards he'd carved into his arms after following Rowling's succubi into hell. Their power had faded as his flesh had healed, but they were still there, waiting to be activated. All Darvill had to do was bend one finger back to his palm, and...
to be continued...
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 3
A slight delay this week. I always knew this chapter would be a nightmare to write because of the various bits of background being revealed. Making this a weekly serial has finally got the overall series moving again, but expect the weekly updates to slide around a little.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2
Succubus Summoning 212, part 3
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
The lead succubus arched a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Really? And what do you think you know?"
Darvill glanced at the standing succubus. "I know she's trying to tempt me. I also know she's not using the full extent of her succubus abilities. And I also know why."
The two succubi shared a glance. "Do tell," the lead succubus said.
"There are seven circles of hell, each corresponding to a frailty of human nature, otherwise known as a sin. When a warlock successfully contracts with their first daemon they align themselves with the circle the daemon comes from. Beginning warlocks mistakenly believe this circle represents their strengths. It doesn't. It represents their weakness."
"Go on," the succubus sitting opposite said, her face a perfect unreadable mask.
"The first daemon does not come to us out of desire to serve or be our familiar, it comes—drawn by the vulnerabilities it senses in our character—to take our soul. That is what daemons desire—souls. They serve us because it gives them opportunities to harvest souls from the earthly realm, a plane they cannot otherwise reach, but only if we prove ourselves to be sufficiently strong of mind and discipline. A weak warlock is of limited benefit to a daemon.
"The first challenge every would-be warlock faces is to prove themselves to their daemon. They must demonstrate they have the strength of will to overcome their baser desires. And it is not just the one circle, they must show they are able to resist the temptations of all seven. Only then will their daemon see them as a potential future master rather than a soul to be claimed. Only then can the warlock open the way to mastery of the dark arts.
"Which brings us to you," Darvill said to the two succubi in front of him. "You are succubi, representatives of the Circle of Lust. Not only are you here to confirm we understand the true nature of the bond between us and our daemon, Magus Stine has also engaged you to test we are able to resist the temptations of the flesh."
Darvill hadn't finished. He slotted together the final piece.
"From your costume and your pink plumes I can deduce you are Bedmistresses from the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures, a powerful order devoted to the mastery of the arts of seduction, manipulation and sensual ecstasy. If you were to draw upon your full repertoire of succubus charm abilities I doubt any student would be able to resist them.
"However, you won't and the reason you won't use the full range of your considerable talents is because the test must be fair. If the student succumbs, it must because of their own flaws rather than the overwhelming temptation of a daemon far beyond their level."
Darvill turned his gaze to the succubus standing at the shoulder of the lead succubus.
"I imagine being restricted to using only a small fraction of your considerable seductive appeal must be incredibly vexing. You have my sympathies," he said.
"I can show you more," the succubus replied. "A lot more."
"Maybe later," Darvill smiled. "After we've established some proper ground rules."
And a cast-iron safeword, he thought to himself.
He turned his attention back to the others.
"So, as much as I'd like to see the three of you put on a sexy show for me, we all know it would be a waste of your time and mine."
He gave them all a rakish smile. Now that was how you ace a test.
"Very impressive," the sitting succubus said. "Even seventh year students don't always attain this level of understanding. Some warlocks never learn it."
"This one is cocky," the succubus standing at her shoulder said.
"I prefer to think of it as being confident in my own abilities," Darvill said.
"This one could go far," the first succubus said. "Maybe very far indeed."
"I hope so," Darvill said, "Although I'm aware there's still much for me to learn and walking the path will require plenty of discipline and hard work."
He affectionately ruffled the eyestalks of Calli-Scitu-Oc perched on his shoulder.
"You are partially correct on what this test is about," the first succubus said. "It reflects poorly on my master if few of his students survive to become full-fledged warlocks, and there have been an unacceptable number of losses in the last few weeks. However..."
Her black eyes glittered malevolently in the midst of her otherwise heart-achingly beautiful face.
Before Darvill could react, the succubus on his left leaned forward and snatched Calli-Scitu-Oc off his shoulder.
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
to be continued...
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1, Part 2
Succubus Summoning 212, part 3
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
The lead succubus arched a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Really? And what do you think you know?"
Darvill glanced at the standing succubus. "I know she's trying to tempt me. I also know she's not using the full extent of her succubus abilities. And I also know why."
The two succubi shared a glance. "Do tell," the lead succubus said.
"There are seven circles of hell, each corresponding to a frailty of human nature, otherwise known as a sin. When a warlock successfully contracts with their first daemon they align themselves with the circle the daemon comes from. Beginning warlocks mistakenly believe this circle represents their strengths. It doesn't. It represents their weakness."
"Go on," the succubus sitting opposite said, her face a perfect unreadable mask.
"The first daemon does not come to us out of desire to serve or be our familiar, it comes—drawn by the vulnerabilities it senses in our character—to take our soul. That is what daemons desire—souls. They serve us because it gives them opportunities to harvest souls from the earthly realm, a plane they cannot otherwise reach, but only if we prove ourselves to be sufficiently strong of mind and discipline. A weak warlock is of limited benefit to a daemon.
"The first challenge every would-be warlock faces is to prove themselves to their daemon. They must demonstrate they have the strength of will to overcome their baser desires. And it is not just the one circle, they must show they are able to resist the temptations of all seven. Only then will their daemon see them as a potential future master rather than a soul to be claimed. Only then can the warlock open the way to mastery of the dark arts.
"Which brings us to you," Darvill said to the two succubi in front of him. "You are succubi, representatives of the Circle of Lust. Not only are you here to confirm we understand the true nature of the bond between us and our daemon, Magus Stine has also engaged you to test we are able to resist the temptations of the flesh."
Darvill hadn't finished. He slotted together the final piece.
"From your costume and your pink plumes I can deduce you are Bedmistresses from the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures, a powerful order devoted to the mastery of the arts of seduction, manipulation and sensual ecstasy. If you were to draw upon your full repertoire of succubus charm abilities I doubt any student would be able to resist them.
"However, you won't and the reason you won't use the full range of your considerable talents is because the test must be fair. If the student succumbs, it must because of their own flaws rather than the overwhelming temptation of a daemon far beyond their level."
Darvill turned his gaze to the succubus standing at the shoulder of the lead succubus.
"I imagine being restricted to using only a small fraction of your considerable seductive appeal must be incredibly vexing. You have my sympathies," he said.
"I can show you more," the succubus replied. "A lot more."
"Maybe later," Darvill smiled. "After we've established some proper ground rules."
And a cast-iron safeword, he thought to himself.
He turned his attention back to the others.
"So, as much as I'd like to see the three of you put on a sexy show for me, we all know it would be a waste of your time and mine."
He gave them all a rakish smile. Now that was how you ace a test.
"Very impressive," the sitting succubus said. "Even seventh year students don't always attain this level of understanding. Some warlocks never learn it."
"This one is cocky," the succubus standing at her shoulder said.
"I prefer to think of it as being confident in my own abilities," Darvill said.
"This one could go far," the first succubus said. "Maybe very far indeed."
"I hope so," Darvill said, "Although I'm aware there's still much for me to learn and walking the path will require plenty of discipline and hard work."
He affectionately ruffled the eyestalks of Calli-Scitu-Oc perched on his shoulder.
"You are partially correct on what this test is about," the first succubus said. "It reflects poorly on my master if few of his students survive to become full-fledged warlocks, and there have been an unacceptable number of losses in the last few weeks. However..."
Her black eyes glittered malevolently in the midst of her otherwise heart-achingly beautiful face.
Before Darvill could react, the succubus on his left leaned forward and snatched Calli-Scitu-Oc off his shoulder.
"...this is not the only purpose of the test."
to be continued...
Tuesday, March 08, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 2
Not quite Monday, but getting closer.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1
Succubus Summoning 212, part 2
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
The succubi did not look like your typical examiners. They looked more like high-class Vegas showgirls. Each wore a black velvet bodice that pushed up their breasts and displayed their cleavage to the maximum effect. These bodices were tightly laced together in a way that emphasised the gorgeous hourglass figures of their owners. Each succubus wore a black velvet skullcap that curled around their horns to form an elegant widow's peak, and was adorned with a long fluffy plume that was flamingo-pink in colour. If Darvill had not been a student warlock at Wargsnouts he might have thought their devilish horns, wings and tails were part of the same costume.
"Where is Magus Stine?" Darvill asked. "I thought he was giving this test."
Darvill was alone in the room with the three succubi. The only furniture was three plain wooden chairs.
"Our master does not wish to be bothered with such minor trifles," the first succubus said.
"He sent us to carry out the test on his behalf," the succubus to her right said.
The succubi standing before Darvill were a little underdressed compared to normal. In spite of their reputation, the succubi that accompanied The Scrote around the college were usually tastefully dressed in sumptuous black dresses that brought to mind exotic ladies of the night from period dramas. These succubi had done away with those dresses. They'd done away with everything below the waist as it happened. Aside from the fancy black stiletto-heeled boots on their feet, there was nothing covering their crotch and long, lithe legs. The hairless folds of their vulva were completely exposed, flaunted even.
The exception to this was the succubus who'd shown Darvill into the room, and this was only temporary. As soon as the door was closed behind them she peeled off the little black miniskirt she was wearing and draped it over the back of a chair.
"You don't mind?" she asked Darvill.
Her exposed nether regions were as pink and shiny as the other two succubi.
"Not at all," Darvill said. "I imagine clothes must feel inhibiting to beings of your nature."
"They are an irritation," the succubus in front of Darvill said, "but a necessary one when going out into the human world. Our unclothed forms can be quite distracting for the weaker willed."
She pursed moist red bee-stung lips and placed a foot on the seat of the chair facing Darvill.
"I hope we're not affecting your concentration," she said.
Darvill simply smiled. "A warlock should be above such distractions."
The succubus was satisfied by his answer. She sat down in the chair opposite and crossed her legs. Her attitude shifted from playful seduction to business. She motioned to the chair facing her. "Take a seat."
So, an oral examination, Darvill thought. He used to dislike them as they forced person-to-person interaction. Practise made them easier.
The succubus who'd shown him in took the remaining chair and sat facing him to his left. That left nowhere to sit for the third succubus. She stood at the right shoulder of the succubus sitting in front of him.
The succubus sitting in front of him—Darvill presumed she'd be the one giving the test—reached under the chair and picked up a clipboard.
"Let's get the preliminaries out of the way," she said. "You are Evan Darvill, correct?"
Darvill nodded his head.
"And you're Outreach?"
"Yes. I am the first potential warlock of my line."
"Tell us about your daemon."
"Their name is Calli-Scitu-Oc. They are a poly-Oc from the Circle of Greed. I summoned and successfully contracted with them on June 3rd."
"Poly-Ocs specialise in knowledge acquisition. Was it a conscious decision on your part to align yourself with the Dominion of Greed?"
"Yes?"
"Why?"
"At the time I thought it best suited my overall aims and ambitions."
"Which are?"
"Power, or more specifically—knowledge. Knowledge allows one to both obtain power and keep it."
"You're very ambitious," the succubus said. "We can smell it."
"It excites us," the succubus at her shoulder added.
"How far would you like to go? A position at this institution, the Shadow Council... further...?"
"Maybe," Darvill replied. "But that's a long way off. First I must traverse the path from student to master. Then we'll see. Positions of true power and influence are not given out, they must be worked for and earned."
"And that's it, you have no other desires?"
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
to be continued...
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1
Succubus Summoning 212, part 2
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
The succubi did not look like your typical examiners. They looked more like high-class Vegas showgirls. Each wore a black velvet bodice that pushed up their breasts and displayed their cleavage to the maximum effect. These bodices were tightly laced together in a way that emphasised the gorgeous hourglass figures of their owners. Each succubus wore a black velvet skullcap that curled around their horns to form an elegant widow's peak, and was adorned with a long fluffy plume that was flamingo-pink in colour. If Darvill had not been a student warlock at Wargsnouts he might have thought their devilish horns, wings and tails were part of the same costume.
"Where is Magus Stine?" Darvill asked. "I thought he was giving this test."
Darvill was alone in the room with the three succubi. The only furniture was three plain wooden chairs.
"Our master does not wish to be bothered with such minor trifles," the first succubus said.
"He sent us to carry out the test on his behalf," the succubus to her right said.
The succubi standing before Darvill were a little underdressed compared to normal. In spite of their reputation, the succubi that accompanied The Scrote around the college were usually tastefully dressed in sumptuous black dresses that brought to mind exotic ladies of the night from period dramas. These succubi had done away with those dresses. They'd done away with everything below the waist as it happened. Aside from the fancy black stiletto-heeled boots on their feet, there was nothing covering their crotch and long, lithe legs. The hairless folds of their vulva were completely exposed, flaunted even.
The exception to this was the succubus who'd shown Darvill into the room, and this was only temporary. As soon as the door was closed behind them she peeled off the little black miniskirt she was wearing and draped it over the back of a chair.
"You don't mind?" she asked Darvill.
Her exposed nether regions were as pink and shiny as the other two succubi.
"Not at all," Darvill said. "I imagine clothes must feel inhibiting to beings of your nature."
"They are an irritation," the succubus in front of Darvill said, "but a necessary one when going out into the human world. Our unclothed forms can be quite distracting for the weaker willed."
She pursed moist red bee-stung lips and placed a foot on the seat of the chair facing Darvill.
"I hope we're not affecting your concentration," she said.
Darvill simply smiled. "A warlock should be above such distractions."
The succubus was satisfied by his answer. She sat down in the chair opposite and crossed her legs. Her attitude shifted from playful seduction to business. She motioned to the chair facing her. "Take a seat."
So, an oral examination, Darvill thought. He used to dislike them as they forced person-to-person interaction. Practise made them easier.
The succubus who'd shown him in took the remaining chair and sat facing him to his left. That left nowhere to sit for the third succubus. She stood at the right shoulder of the succubus sitting in front of him.
The succubus sitting in front of him—Darvill presumed she'd be the one giving the test—reached under the chair and picked up a clipboard.
"Let's get the preliminaries out of the way," she said. "You are Evan Darvill, correct?"
Darvill nodded his head.
"And you're Outreach?"
"Yes. I am the first potential warlock of my line."
"Tell us about your daemon."
"Their name is Calli-Scitu-Oc. They are a poly-Oc from the Circle of Greed. I summoned and successfully contracted with them on June 3rd."
"Poly-Ocs specialise in knowledge acquisition. Was it a conscious decision on your part to align yourself with the Dominion of Greed?"
"Yes?"
"Why?"
"At the time I thought it best suited my overall aims and ambitions."
"Which are?"
"Power, or more specifically—knowledge. Knowledge allows one to both obtain power and keep it."
"You're very ambitious," the succubus said. "We can smell it."
"It excites us," the succubus at her shoulder added.
"How far would you like to go? A position at this institution, the Shadow Council... further...?"
"Maybe," Darvill replied. "But that's a long way off. First I must traverse the path from student to master. Then we'll see. Positions of true power and influence are not given out, they must be worked for and earned."
"And that's it, you have no other desires?"
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
to be continued...
Wednesday, March 02, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 1
Yes, that title is correct. I finally got Phil's adventures moving again. Really sorry to all the people that have been waiting so long for this. There were reasons, but I'm not going to go into them as they're not particularly interesting. The plan is to update every Monday with a thousand words or so until the 201 arc is done. This may shift around a bit (as you may have noticed on account of this being Wednesday and not Monday) depending on where I am with the story, but I'm hoping serialising the final chapters like this will get me over the finish line.
On the off chance you don't know what I mean by either Phil or Succubus Summoning, it's a serial about a hapless student warlock who gets into various life-threatening messes after summoning some sexy succubi. The first volume of his sexy misadventures can be found in this lovely ebook, or you can read them in their slightly rougher form here on Literotica. A couple of years ago I hit a brick wall and the story stalled. Now I think it's time to finish the Succubus Summoning 201 arc off so I can put out a lovely ebook sequel and hopefully make enough money to write even more sexy succubus stories for you all.
Without further ado, here's the first 1K words of Succubus Summoning 212:
Succubus Summoning 212, part 1
Darvill had never been afraid of exams. In fact, during his schooldays, before he'd learned of this parallel world of magic and daemons, he'd even grown to relish them. Exams cut through all the bullshit. Exams were remorseless pieces of paper. Exams didn't care about who you were, who your daddy was, or who your friends were. They didn't give a shit about your station. They didn't give a fuck about what your little clique said and thought.
Darvill liked exams because he had control over the outcome. Ultimately that was what it was about—control. He couldn't control who his parents were. He couldn't control where he came from. But exams, he could control them. Knowledge, preparation, hard work—those were things he could control and exams respected them. Exams showed, unequivocally, where everyone stood in relation to everyone else. They took a group of people and churned them out as a ranked list.
And Darvill always made sure his name was at the top of that list.
Wargsnouts College was no different. Sure, the stakes were higher. No-one got their limbs ripped off and devoured for getting a math question wrong in the mundane world, but the principles were still the same—knowledge, preparation, hard work.
So when Darvill had found out about The Scrote's little surprise test he hadn't been fazed in the slightest. Truth be told, he relished it. The last few days had not gone well.
No, that was a massive understatement. The last few days had been fucking disastrous. So much for those plans of building a cabal to shake up the old order. He'd been arrogant and naïve, in a world that laughed at arrogance and destroyed the naïve.
At least it wasn't all for naught. He'd learn from this, had learned much already. He ruffled Calli-Scitu-Oc's eyestalks as the poly-Oc sat on his shoulder.
But the cost...
He grimaced at the thought. Dever, the others, gone. His friends—dead or worse.
No, he mustn't dwell on that. Control the things he could control. Knowledge, preparation, hard work.
Not everyone shared Darvill's phlegmatic attitude when it came to exams. Outside the test room he saw Rowling sitting at one of the tables with an untidy sprawl of notes and papers spread out in front of him. One of his succubi—Verdé, the one with the green hair—was sitting next to him and watching with a look of amusement on her face while he frantically shuffled through his notes.
One of Rowling's succubi...
Everyone thought Rowling had somehow managed to contract a pair of succubi. Darvill knew differently. He'd counted five in the castle in hell. They weren't your regular succubi either. Darvill had done a little research on his return to the college. He wondered if Rowling knew what he'd contracted. He wondered if anyone knew.
Verdé glanced up at Darvill with bright green eyes. She was stunningly beautiful, but so were plenty of other women. And once you had plenty of power behind you, you could screw all the beautiful women you could possibly want... and not worry about them sucking your soul out in the process.
"Last minute revision?" Darvill asked.
Rowling noticed Darvill and seemed both surprised and a little awkward when the other student sat down opposite him. Rowling was the sort that would feel guilty over what had happened, Darvill thought, not that he should.
If Darvill was a lesser person he supposed he could have held Rowling responsible for the deaths of the others, maybe even let a grudge fester while he secretly plotted revenge. Not that Darvill had the slightest intention of doing this. Wargsnouts was dangerous enough as it was without getting himself bogged down in senseless, petty feuds on top. They all knew what had happened to Emma Brennan.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Rowling said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill thought about Rowling. They had a lot in common. Rowling was outreach, like him. He'd come from a very ordinary background. He had talent. Darvill's original plan of a brand new cabal was in tatters and likely never to be mended, but the recent events had given him a fresh appreciation of just how dangerous this world was. Allies would be useful.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
Rowling looked sourly at his notes. "I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it."
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
He motioned over to a passing group of staff. As would be expected for a college like Wargsnouts, the staff were an eclectic bunch. High Magus R. L. Conley, the Magister of the Esoteric Conduit stood out the most with a flamboyant costume of black robes with silver trim and elaborate puffs at the wrists. No-one dressed quite like the high magus. Rumour was he'd been consulted by a horror filmmaker for input on the costume of their satanic high priest villain, and they'd ended up rejecting his ideas for being too extravagant. A masked nihmiratt rode on his shoulders like a small child. Its green eyes shone behind its mask of human skin.
At the opposite end of the spectrum was the Cartifax of Hell-Dimensional Topology, Brion Jacks. The trim, bald-headed man was dressed in a white vest and jogging bottoms. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the gym rather than a lecture on the geography of hell. A pyramid of flesh with a mouth in the centre—a minor nebrit—sat on his shoulder and gnashed its teeth together.
Walking with them was the treasury officer, Graeme Kennet. Kennet would have looked like a paunchy, middle-aged banker if it wasn't for the kappa-Oc perched on his head like a hat. It made the official look like an elderly punk rocker with long purple eyestalks for hair.
In such august company it would have been easy to overlook the fourth member entirely. Dr Will Pryce, the Zoomancer of the Cryptic Savagerium, was small, soft-spoken and innocuous. A ferocious-looking snikkersnakt prowled around his ankles.
Darvill could see Rowling didn't get it. For someone supposedly that smart, Rowling could be incredibly dim sometimes. Darvill was about to give him a helpful nudge when Calli-Scitu-Oc gave him a warning pinch on the shoulder.
Yes, yes, rules and all that, Darvill thought. Each must walk their own path.
Conscious he was not understanding something, Rowling went back to poring over his notes.
Darvill turned and spoke to Verdé directly. "Do you think he has anything to worry about?" he asked.
Verdé contemplated his question. "It's not his strongest area."
Her answer sent Rowling into another frenzy of note shuffling.
The door to the test room opened and one of The Scrote's succubi called out Darvill's name.
"Looks like it's my turn," Darvill said. "See you later."
Darvill left Rowling to his frantic—and unnecessary—last-minute revision and walked over and followed the succubus into the test room. He was expecting to see The Scrote, or maybe even Dodgy Lutwidge if The Scrote couldn't be assed to give the test himself. Neither was waiting for him in the room. Instead it was two more of The Scrote's succubi.
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
On the off chance you don't know what I mean by either Phil or Succubus Summoning, it's a serial about a hapless student warlock who gets into various life-threatening messes after summoning some sexy succubi. The first volume of his sexy misadventures can be found in this lovely ebook, or you can read them in their slightly rougher form here on Literotica. A couple of years ago I hit a brick wall and the story stalled. Now I think it's time to finish the Succubus Summoning 201 arc off so I can put out a lovely ebook sequel and hopefully make enough money to write even more sexy succubus stories for you all.
Without further ado, here's the first 1K words of Succubus Summoning 212:
Succubus Summoning 212, part 1
Darvill had never been afraid of exams. In fact, during his schooldays, before he'd learned of this parallel world of magic and daemons, he'd even grown to relish them. Exams cut through all the bullshit. Exams were remorseless pieces of paper. Exams didn't care about who you were, who your daddy was, or who your friends were. They didn't give a shit about your station. They didn't give a fuck about what your little clique said and thought.
Darvill liked exams because he had control over the outcome. Ultimately that was what it was about—control. He couldn't control who his parents were. He couldn't control where he came from. But exams, he could control them. Knowledge, preparation, hard work—those were things he could control and exams respected them. Exams showed, unequivocally, where everyone stood in relation to everyone else. They took a group of people and churned them out as a ranked list.
And Darvill always made sure his name was at the top of that list.
Wargsnouts College was no different. Sure, the stakes were higher. No-one got their limbs ripped off and devoured for getting a math question wrong in the mundane world, but the principles were still the same—knowledge, preparation, hard work.
So when Darvill had found out about The Scrote's little surprise test he hadn't been fazed in the slightest. Truth be told, he relished it. The last few days had not gone well.
No, that was a massive understatement. The last few days had been fucking disastrous. So much for those plans of building a cabal to shake up the old order. He'd been arrogant and naïve, in a world that laughed at arrogance and destroyed the naïve.
At least it wasn't all for naught. He'd learn from this, had learned much already. He ruffled Calli-Scitu-Oc's eyestalks as the poly-Oc sat on his shoulder.
But the cost...
He grimaced at the thought. Dever, the others, gone. His friends—dead or worse.
No, he mustn't dwell on that. Control the things he could control. Knowledge, preparation, hard work.
Not everyone shared Darvill's phlegmatic attitude when it came to exams. Outside the test room he saw Rowling sitting at one of the tables with an untidy sprawl of notes and papers spread out in front of him. One of his succubi—Verdé, the one with the green hair—was sitting next to him and watching with a look of amusement on her face while he frantically shuffled through his notes.
One of Rowling's succubi...
Everyone thought Rowling had somehow managed to contract a pair of succubi. Darvill knew differently. He'd counted five in the castle in hell. They weren't your regular succubi either. Darvill had done a little research on his return to the college. He wondered if Rowling knew what he'd contracted. He wondered if anyone knew.
Verdé glanced up at Darvill with bright green eyes. She was stunningly beautiful, but so were plenty of other women. And once you had plenty of power behind you, you could screw all the beautiful women you could possibly want... and not worry about them sucking your soul out in the process.
"Last minute revision?" Darvill asked.
Rowling noticed Darvill and seemed both surprised and a little awkward when the other student sat down opposite him. Rowling was the sort that would feel guilty over what had happened, Darvill thought, not that he should.
If Darvill was a lesser person he supposed he could have held Rowling responsible for the deaths of the others, maybe even let a grudge fester while he secretly plotted revenge. Not that Darvill had the slightest intention of doing this. Wargsnouts was dangerous enough as it was without getting himself bogged down in senseless, petty feuds on top. They all knew what had happened to Emma Brennan.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Rowling said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill thought about Rowling. They had a lot in common. Rowling was outreach, like him. He'd come from a very ordinary background. He had talent. Darvill's original plan of a brand new cabal was in tatters and likely never to be mended, but the recent events had given him a fresh appreciation of just how dangerous this world was. Allies would be useful.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
Rowling looked sourly at his notes. "I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it."
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
He motioned over to a passing group of staff. As would be expected for a college like Wargsnouts, the staff were an eclectic bunch. High Magus R. L. Conley, the Magister of the Esoteric Conduit stood out the most with a flamboyant costume of black robes with silver trim and elaborate puffs at the wrists. No-one dressed quite like the high magus. Rumour was he'd been consulted by a horror filmmaker for input on the costume of their satanic high priest villain, and they'd ended up rejecting his ideas for being too extravagant. A masked nihmiratt rode on his shoulders like a small child. Its green eyes shone behind its mask of human skin.
At the opposite end of the spectrum was the Cartifax of Hell-Dimensional Topology, Brion Jacks. The trim, bald-headed man was dressed in a white vest and jogging bottoms. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the gym rather than a lecture on the geography of hell. A pyramid of flesh with a mouth in the centre—a minor nebrit—sat on his shoulder and gnashed its teeth together.
Walking with them was the treasury officer, Graeme Kennet. Kennet would have looked like a paunchy, middle-aged banker if it wasn't for the kappa-Oc perched on his head like a hat. It made the official look like an elderly punk rocker with long purple eyestalks for hair.
In such august company it would have been easy to overlook the fourth member entirely. Dr Will Pryce, the Zoomancer of the Cryptic Savagerium, was small, soft-spoken and innocuous. A ferocious-looking snikkersnakt prowled around his ankles.
Darvill could see Rowling didn't get it. For someone supposedly that smart, Rowling could be incredibly dim sometimes. Darvill was about to give him a helpful nudge when Calli-Scitu-Oc gave him a warning pinch on the shoulder.
Yes, yes, rules and all that, Darvill thought. Each must walk their own path.
Conscious he was not understanding something, Rowling went back to poring over his notes.
Darvill turned and spoke to Verdé directly. "Do you think he has anything to worry about?" he asked.
Verdé contemplated his question. "It's not his strongest area."
Her answer sent Rowling into another frenzy of note shuffling.
The door to the test room opened and one of The Scrote's succubi called out Darvill's name.
"Looks like it's my turn," Darvill said. "See you later."
Darvill left Rowling to his frantic—and unnecessary—last-minute revision and walked over and followed the succubus into the test room. He was expecting to see The Scrote, or maybe even Dodgy Lutwidge if The Scrote couldn't be assed to give the test himself. Neither was waiting for him in the room. Instead it was two more of The Scrote's succubi.
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
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